Legends of the Dragonrealm

by Richard A. Knaak

  VII

  The figures around Shade vanished as quickly as they appeared. Even the great structure began to dismantle...or rather unbuild. The spell had cast him beyond its creation to a period where even the founders could be called a ‘young’ race.

  A time when the powers wielded by them would be at its strongest and most primal.

  With a grunt, Shade landed on his hands and knees. He wondered why Sarcos would come all the way back here. Surely the creation of the citadel and the artifact inside made more sense.

  Then, Shade remembered the other scream. Valea was here somewhere as well. The entire world could be damned if she died because of him, he thought.

  There was no one in sight. Whether that meant anything, Shade could not say. He immediately concentrated on Valea.

  She was near, but her trace was faint. Trying not to read anything sinister about that, the warlock transported himself in her direction—

  Or tried to. The spell failed as if it had never been more than idle thought.

  A disturbing notion occurred to Shade. Despite not needing one, he tried to create a glow ball.

  That spell failed just as miserably.

  Either I have no magic in this time or magic works differently here, Shade finally decided. No matter which the truth, it bodes ill for both of us.

  That he could feel some faint hint of Valea gave him hope that it was not only the second of the choices, but that given the chance to think, he would be able to resolve the dilemma before further danger threatened.

  In the distance, he spotted a golden tower. To whom it belonged—other than one or more of the founders—the warlock did not know, but he suspected that it would not be long before the master or mistress would take note of the intruders so near. All that Shade had learned of the founders encouraged him to find Valea before that happened. Sarcos could have his mad quest; nothing else mattered but to retrieve Valea.

  He could feel himself drawing nearer. Finally, to both his relief and concern, he spotted her unmoving form near a mauve tree. Shade ran the final distance, then knelt by her side.

  She moaned, then opened her eyes. “Gerrod...”

  He started. Of course, she would see him as Gerrod. That, even though he felt more like Shade. The imbalance within added to his already mounting concern.

  “We must get back,” he murmured. “I think if we locate where the pole will be set—”

  His explanation was interrupted by a deep, musical voice speaking in some language he did not understand. Both Shade and Valea turned to the right—

  One of the founders loomed over them. As best as the warlock could tell, a sense of both curiosity and suspicion filled the magnificent albeit unsettling figure.

  “We mean him no harm!” Valea murmured. “Surely we can somehow explain that—”

  The founder spoke again, but although the music remained in his speech, there was a harsher tone that immediately made Shade stand between the enchantress and their discoverer.

  The founder’s expression changed to one of surprise. A slim hand went to his mouth and nose.

  Shade realized that the figure had reacted to the warlock’s face...or lack thereof. Even despite being so near to Valea, Shade was Shade again...as devoid of a face as ever.

  He used the founder’s momentary lapse to strike physically. Despite the countless incarnations, a few things remained consistent. One of those was the martial training he had received—or rather endured—as a son of the great and powerful Lord Barakas Tezerenee. Despite being part of a race born to sorcery, Lord Tezerenee had insisted that everyone, especially his many offspring, become skilled in the more mundane but still brutal aspects of battle. As Gerrod, Shade had been an adequate if not exceptional student...but even an adequate student of his father was more than a match for many opponents.

  But before he could strike, the glorious figure simply vanished.

  Shade swore. He had no doubt that the founder would be back soon, likely with companions.

  “Gerrod...tell me what’s going on? Was that—was that really one of the founders...alive?”

  “Yes,” he answered, happy to have even that question to divert from his state. “And I fear that there will be more very soon.”

  “’More’? Where exactly are we?”

  “Far, far in the past, where it seems the founders are to blame for all their troubles...and for all that the Dragonrealm will suffer, Vraad, drake lords, and myself included.”

  “What—”

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand as he sensed something. His spellcasting abilities might be in question, but his senses appeared to remain sharp. “They are coming.”

  Valea did not have to ask. “We have to leave!”

  “My abilities do not seem to function properly, perhaps due to them being tied to what will be, not what is now.” Even as he spoke, the wind picked up around them. Only around them.

  The enchantress grabbed his hand. “Hold on. Let me see what I can do.”

  Concentrating, Valea cast.

  To his astonishment, they vanished from their location just as the wind pressed hard against them from all sides. A moment later, they materialized near what he thought was surely an even worse location, the base of the tower.

  “It worked!” she breathed gratefully. “Father and Mother taught my brother and I how to reach into our core, where there should always be the essence of our power. It’s a strain, but it worked for now!”

  As astounded as he was by her feat, the warlock quickly became more concerned with now being noticed by the masters of the tower. However, just as Shade was about to say so to Valea, he actually noticed another familiar presence.

  Sarcos was nearby...in the tower, in fact.

  Shade informed Valea. Her expression turned more determined. “He’s our way out of this place, isn’t he?”

  “I fear so. Only he knows all that is going on—”

  Without warning, their surroundings shifted. At first, there was only darkness. Then, as Shade’s eyes adjusted, he saw the dragon man standing in the center of the tower, which was utterly empty save for the irritated figure of Sarcos.

  “It should be here...this is where it should be...” muttered the ever-shifting figure. A row of crocodilian teeth sprouted in his mouth. His nose thrust out, becoming a short snout again. He looked at the pair, unsurprised by their abrupt presence. “You are here. I am here. Just as before. It should be here.”

  “We are here and we will not be alone soon,” Shade pointed out. “They will be here any moment.”

  “But that is how it should be! There is something—” Sarcos glanced at Valea. “No...something’s wrong with her. She’s not right. She’s different.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mean me, perhaps?” Valea calmly asked...but not from next to him.

  The three of them turned to see another, identical Valea—a faint silver glow ball forming over her palm—standing a short distance away. Surrounding her were four floating faces composed of what looked like leaves. Curiously, they struck a distant memory with the warlock, a memory he would have at that moment paid dear to regain.

  “We warned you that this would only achieve the same tragic results, Sarcos,” one of the faces declared. “But now, now it is even worse than that. Now...they have finally sensed what you are doing and what is happening overall.”

  “That is not possible! We are outside their existence! They are memories, nothing more—”

  “No, Sarcos. You are the memory. All of you...and some memories are best left forgotten.”

  Shade felt a wrenching in his gut. A fear that seemed to come from experience stirred inside him.

  “Valea! Keep your grip tight! Keep it—”

  But a tremendous force ripped them from each other with ease. Valea shouted his name—both Valeas.

 
Faces abruptly formed before Shade, but not Valea’s, Sarcos’s, or those of the leaf beings. Three identical founder faces appeared. Three faces wearing what Shade could only think were expressions of mild curiosity.

  And then, there was nothing.

  VIII

  Valea stood near the city tower, utterly confused. The last she recalled was having arrived in Gordag-Ai in pursuit of Gerrod. Anger at him for tricking her was tempered by concern that he might throw himself into a dangerous situation. She immediately concentrated on locating his magical trace.

  To her confusion, though, there were conflicting traces not only of Gerrod...but herself?

  Valea started to follow the trace resembling hers...then sensed another spellcaster in the area.

  A young man overly dressed for what was clearly his role as some crown-endorsed wizard materialized some distance before her. He seemed annoyed by the crowd’s lack of proper wariness and started to cast a spell—

  But as he began, Valea sensed Gerrod very nearby. There was something peculiar about his trace, but she paid that no mind, only concerned for his safety. The enchantress focused on his location—

  And discovered herself in an underground lair where an obelisk she immediately recognized as of founder creation stood before her. The obelisk proved only a momentary distraction, however, as she became aware of the one she sought directly to her side.

  “Gerrod—” she began.

  But the hooded form had already vanished. Valea cursed her luck, then prepared to follow—

  Valea...

  It sounded like Gerrod’s voice in her head, yet at first the enchantress did not want to believe it. She had just seen him vanish. Still, there was a definite trace coming from somewhere nearby. An odd trace, but definitely him.

  Despite misgivings, Valea transported herself to where she sensed the source from.

  Darkness surrounded her, but as she began to cast a glow ball, from behind her, the crimson-tressed enchantress heard whispering.

  The glow ball already formed, Valea spun around. On an ancient stone table, she beheld a huge book. Valea needed no one to tell her that this was a tome filled with magic secrets. She had seen the books from the great libraries of Penacles and respected the power they represented. There was something about this book that hinted of those in the City of Knowledge, yet seemed even older.

  She put her free hand toward it...and understood. This was an actual book of the founders.

  No one, not even her parents nor the Gryphon, had ever claimed to a have seen an actual tome put together by the most ancient of races. She could not help marvel for a moment at its existence after all this time. Surely, this had been part of what Gerrod had sought here.

  Guilty that she had let even a few seconds pass without thought of Gerrod, Valea turned from the prized book. Once she located him, they could take the artifact with them and study it somewhere a little calmer.

  She turned around again, the feeling that he was very near so strong. Valea stared at the darkness ahead, then, with trepidation, increased the intensity of the glow ball.

  Whereupon, the enchantress screamed.

  Gerrod’s decaying remains hung on the wall before her, his death clearly a horrific, violent one. Little more than a skeleton in rags were left...and finally recognizing that was the first thing that made her reassess the terrible sight before her. Here was a corpse that had perished long, long ago.

  Valea had never seen the remains of one of Gerrod’s Shade incarnations and had, she realized, convinced herself that each faded as the new one formed. Now she saw that was not necessarily the case and even though there was the chance this Shade had been one of those of a dark nature, the enchantress still could not help feeling sickened for the suffering he had clearly gone through.

  Yet, even as she tried to come to grips with this revelation, a shifting of her hand made the glow ball move to the side...and display for her another hideous sight.

  A second Shade. Like the first, he had perished in a manner she did not even like to dwell on, suffocated and crushed from the looks of his twisted corpse.

  “Oh, Gerrod,” she muttered. At least twice, he had been drawn to this damned place and twice condemned to a gruesome fate. Despite her revulsion at the displays, the enchantress could not help already begin to attempt to out the pieces of the puzzle together. It could not be coincidence that at least three times he had been drawn here, twice to perish. That made her fear for Gerrod magnify, especially if the curse had hold of him. If he died this time, Valea feared the incarnation that would arise. Worse in some ways to her was the fear that he would simply die this time, forever to be lost to her.

  Valea...

  She started. There it was again. His voice in her head...but originating from where? She eyed the two corpses, especially the one sealed alive. Shaking slightly, she walked toward it—

  The obelisk briefly flared brighter. At the same time, she heard the voice again.

  Valea...

  Slowly, she turned to the obelisk. “Gerrod?”

  Valea...

  “Gerrod?”

  A part...and many parts others...a shade of a shade...this Gerrod is different...it does not adjust to our duty...

  She had no idea what that meant. All that mattered though was that she had contact with some part of him. “Gerrod...tell me what to do!”

  Instead of answering, the obelisk flared again. Valea shielded her eyes. As the glow faded to normal, she saw that she was no longer alone.

  Four faces composed of leaves floated before her. Valea had the odd feeling that this was not the first time she had seen such creatures.

  “She knows us,” said one on the right.

  “She is an after,” replied the one nearest. They had identical, neutral voices. “The seal is broken. Time begins to pour out. The danger is great. We must move swiftly.”

  “If we remove her?”

  “It will not reseal then...and the Shade will not permit...he has that much power over the obelisk now. Sarcos at last went too far. He breached the unbreachable...”

  “Sarcos,” the other three muttered in unison.

  “Who are you?” the enchantress demanded. “Where’s Gerrod—Shade? You mentioned him! And who is Sarcos?”

  “Her memory is scattered,” the one on the right commented.

  “That is due to us,” returned the foremost. “She was to forget all, but clearly that is not the case.”

  “That is not possible!” insisted the other three.

  “When time is forever, all is possible,” answered the foremost in a tone that appeared to Valea to admonish the others for something that they, too, should have known.

  Even as she sought to comprehend what they were talking about, Valea also grew frustrated with being entirely ignored. She threw the glow ball at the ground before the four faces, the explosion it created on impact doing no damage but momentarily illuminating the chamber to near-blinding levels.

  That silenced the heads.

  “I would like some answers and I would like them now. What is this place?”

  “It is the position of functioning for the creators’ master spell,” replied the foremost face.

  The answer was not as clear as Valea hoped, but she nodded. “Where is Gerrod—Shade?”

  “The Shade, by his nature, is in many wheres and whens.”

  Her frustration began to grow again. “Where is the one I know?”

  “Here...and then. Sarcos divined what the creators hid and has somehow shattered his endless cycle. He fed the obelisk a part of your Shade, enough so that he could overcome and wear the rest in order to survive touching and activating the main device.”

  Despite wanting to find Gerrod as soon as possible, Valea knew she had to learn more. “Who is Sarcos? How does he know Shade and all this?”

 
The leaves shook. Then, the foremost answered, “The Shade discovered the creators’ darkest desire, that the magic they needed they could only find by stealing from their own past. They created their own downfall, but deemed it necessary to devise a far more triumphant future.”

  “That’s insane!”

  The four faces shimmered. The lead one finally said, “We Elem were made to serve, not to judge, our masters. Only when they believed they had done enough had they sealed off this moment in time and, along with it, the spell.”

  “Why didn’t they just put an end to the spell? Wouldn’t that have made more sense?”

  “More sense...if it could have been done. They made the spell strong to withstand time and power unheard of even by them. Once forged, it could no longer be halted. They could only seal it away forever.”

  Valea had once admired the founders, but that admiration had long given way to distrust based on other things discovered over the years. Now, she saw that distrust continue to have much merit to it. “Shade. Sarcos.”

  “The Shade, after many different variations of him, discovered the book. It was crafted by the one most focused on creation of the spell. It recorded efforts, but not the final result. The Shade gleaned how the spell might work, but also understood the dangers. The Shade needed a tool. Instead, he found Sarcos. Sarcos who had nightmares of a whispering world, of being not a drake, but a thing trapped in such a form. A thing called Vraad.”

  “Oh, no...” Valea did not have to have the lead Elem explain that part. Sarcos had been one of those rare spellcasters who could sense the voices of the land, the minds of the founders long imbued into the world so that they could manipulate everything as they desired. Some of that had changed thanks to recent events, but in the time of Sarcos, the founder minds had remained strong.

  “Sarcos fell prey to the Shade’s words. The Shade brought him to this place he had discovered and where he had placed the book. But the Shade, being a different Shade then, had forgotten about the book. It took generations to discover its once more and more generations to translate it. In that regard, Sarcos was most clever and helped with some of the things even the Shade could not decipher.”