Legends of the Dragonrealm Read online

  The trio loomed over Cabe, who tried to analyze the spell work of the amulet. Protective, yes, but not dangerous. Certainly not the cause of his earlier distress.

  “You are the mage,” rumbled the leader.

  The fact that he stated Cabe’s calling as fact, not question, meant that no pretense would convince the soldiers otherwise. The wizard nodded.

  “I am he. Is there a reason for disrupting my repass?”

  “It is requested you come with us, mage. An invitation by his majesty, no less.”

  Edrik? Cabe had not planned to speak with the young king, but the fact that Edrik knew of his arrival intrigued him. “And will I be wearing those upon my arrival in the royal court?” he asked, indicating the iron cuffs worn at the side of each guard. “As a safety measure?”

  The bearded veteran kept his craggy face expressionless. “His majesty requests your willing presence.”

  Which meant no cuffs. Did Edrik know exactly what mage he had invited?

  Sensing the tension building within the soldiers despite their polite attitudes, Cabe nodded, then cautiously rose. Brode had vanished into the back room.

  The officer led, with Cabe flanked by the two other guards. As they stepped outside, Cabe noticed that, for the first time, the area had emptied out. Word traveled fast.

  Darkhorse gave an equine snort as they appeared. The wizard blinked, signaling his companion to maintain his pose as a simple animal.

  A fourth guard sat mounted, the reins of his comrades’ steeds in his hand. The bearded soldier indicated that Cabe should retrieve his own horse.

  Patting Darkhorse’s flank, the hooded mage mounted. Surrounded by what could pass for either an honor guard or determined captors, he rode off toward the towering palace.

  III

  “I’ve my suspicions, yes, I do, that you’re a very, very special wizard.”

  The king of Gordag-Ai was young, barely eighteen, and the wide, jeweled throne of cherry wood made him look even younger. He wore the noble, crested crown of his line slightly askew over his thin, blond hair. Edrik had soft features—not fat, for he was as thin as a rail—and dark, blue eyes. His nose was arched and his mouth was full. Even without being monarch he would have attracted women, especially those with the innate desire to mother him.

  Next to him stood the bearded officer and from Cabe’s study of the man here was a soldier who would give his life for the slight ruler.

  “What say you, General Majjin?”

  Majjin eyed their guest up-and-down impassively. “I’d place a wager you’re right, majesty.”

  The imperial chamber of the Gordagian monarch was a simple affair compared to the plush courts of some kings. Good, sturdy oak walls trimmed in gold surrounded the occupants. Carvings of mountain animals decorated those walls. A gold chandelier with over fifty candles illuminated the room and a purple carpet crossed from the entrance to the dais on which the throne sat. Above the seated figure and his general hung the ram banner of Gordag-Ai.

  Cabe decided to end the guessing. “You are correct, King Edrik. I am Cabe Bedlam, a friend of your aunt.”

  The young monarch smashed his fist against the throne’s arm rest. His eyes widened and he grinned, making him look even younger. “I knew it! When they detected you, they said you were a powerful mage! Very powerful! I was certain it was you, especially after someone reported you riding on a huge black stallion!” Edrik suddenly looked around. “Majjin! Where’s the stallion?”

  For once, the officer looked a bit disconcerted. “Majesty, I could hardly bring an animal into the royal court! It is in the stables where it belongs—”

  “Majjin, you fool! Don’t you know what that ‘animal’ is?”

  “I prefer to be considered a who, not a what,” boomed a voice from everywhere, “and I have graced the courts of a hundred and more regal kingdoms by invitation!”

  The Gordagians whirled this way and that, searching for the source. Majjin had his sword out and stood protectively over the seated king. Edrik, on the other hand, had an expression even more awed than that which had greeted the announcement of Cabe’s identity.

  Looking to the shadows in the corner to the left of the throne, the wizard spotted the two telltale blue orbs. Cabe smiled, which caused Darkhorse to chuckle.

  Edrik and Majjin turned toward the shadows. Majjin extended his blade, as if a simple steel weapon could do anything against the eternal.

  “Careful, general,” Cabe warned. “It doesn’t pay to antagonize him.”

  There was truth to what he said. Darkhorse was a loyal comrade, an avenger of wrongs, and he understood humans enough to know simple concern and fright, but if Majjin persisted, the magical stallion might choose to see him as a danger...and absorb him.

  Absorb was perhaps the wrong term, but Cabe had never come up with any better description. He had witnessed drake warriors and taloned beasts fall into Darkhorse, fall and keep falling as if into a bottomless abyss, finally vanishing. Only one being had ever emerged from that abyss and that had been the warlock Shade, a figure as potent in his own right as the eternal.

  “It’s him!” shouted Edrik, now very much the youth. He would have risen and gone to the shadows if not for Majjin’s blocking arm.

  The huge, ebony steed emerged from the black corner, forming out of the very darkness. He loomed over the two Gordagians.

  “Your majesty!” roared Darkhorse, dipping his head. “I knew your great-grandfather, Edrianos V! A cheerful, cheerful man!”

  Grinning from ear to ear, Edrik returned, “That wasn’t my greatgrandfather...that was my grandfather’s great-grandfather!”

  “Was he? Aah, how time flies, as they say! My error!”

  With a graceful, silent leap, the eternal flew up into the air, then landed with a twirl next to Cabe.

  “You were supposed to remain inconspicuous,” the wizard remarked dryly.

  “Have I not?” his companion asked in utter innocence.

  The king squirmed free of Majjin. “But why come incognito, master wizard? Gordag-Ai’s no enemy of yours! You corresponded with my father and grandfather both!”

  Cabe bowed his head. “And may once again I give my sincerest sympathies for your father.”

  “My thanks, master wizard,” Edrik returned with equal solemnity. “The sickness took him swiftly.”

  Edrik’s father, Ermanus X, had been king for only a few scant years when struck down, leaving the young prince, already without a mother since birth, to fend for himself. His aunt, the only sibling of Ermanus, had passed on what knowledge she could, but Erini lived far away in Talak. Edrik had been forced to grow up quickly.

  “You have not answered the king’s question,” reminded General Majjin sternly.

  “Majjin! Behave! He’s Cabe Bedlam, the master wizard! He doesn’t have to—”

  “But I do,” interrupted the spellcaster. “The general is correct. I was remiss in not simply going to you, but—”

  Now it was the bearded commander’s turn to interject. “But you were concerned about the wizards his majesty has been gathering...and whether my liege seeks to use them aggressively.”

  Cabe’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. The general was a shrewd man.

  “The lessons of the Horse King are not lost on Gordag-Ai, Master Bedlam. Nor is lost the fact that some of his wizards came from our realm. Be assured, though, that his majesty gathers his for the peace and security of the realm, not dreams of conquest.”

  “The Drake Confederation is not stable,” Edrik added.

  The dragon clans that had gathered in the northwest represented the survivors of more than half a dozen distinct lines, all with histories of turmoil and competition between them. That they had held together for more than a decade had more to do with their distrust of the rising human kingdoms than any true alliance. If Sssaleese, the unmarke
d drake who had gathered them, lost control, the repercussions would avalanche over Gordag-Ai.

  “Be assured, King Edrik, that Gordag-Ai will not be alone if the Confederation collapses. In addition to myself, both the kingdoms of Talak and Penacles watch the situation.” Marriage, of course, bound Talak to Gordag-Ai. Penacles, on the other hand, was ruled by the half-human Gryphon, sworn foe of the Dragon Kings in general.

  “I know that,” responded Edrik, returning to his throne. “And you should know that you’re our guest while you’re here, Master Bedlam.”

  “I thank you, but my work is best done if I continue to move about.”

  Majjin grunted. “You’re looking for these lost kids. The ones with magic.”

  “I am.”

  “You think the drakes took them?”

  Cabe spread his hands. “It seems a distinct possibility...but I hope not.”

  “‘Distinct possibility?’ Hell, man! What else could it be?”

  “That remains to be seen. Your own wizards have detected nothing?”

  Majjin gave him a sour look. Edrik frowned.

  “Our wizards are hardly of your caliber,” the king returned. “Den’s the best. He’s the one who created the spell that let us know you were near.” The young ruler looked to a guard. “Summon him.”

  A few minutes later, a young, slightly-bearded man not much older than the king appeared. Clad in a plain, white robe, Den was tall, thin, and very studious. He peered at Cabe through two thick lenses attached by a metal clip to his nose.

  “You sent for me, your majesty?”

  “Den, this is Cabe Bedlam, the master wizard.”

  Den nearly lost his lenses. “M-Master Bedlam!” He went down on one knee. “An h-honor, sir!”

  “And beside him is the legendary Darkhorse.”

  The thin spellcaster gaped, having somehow not noticed the towering stallion before.

  “I’ll take that as a greeting!” chuckled the eternal.

  Cabe bid the young man to rise. Den had thinning brown hair, but the silver streak was still quite evident. “So you cast the spell that detected me? I’m impressed.”

  “To be frank, it was to detect any magic. If I may say so, you and your—your companion—radiate power greater than anything I’ve ever experienced!”

  But Darkhorse and I both shielded ourselves from the presence of other spellcasters, Cabe thought. This Den has much, much potential if his spell noted us despite that. Out loud, he replied, “But a fascinating feat, regardless.”

  Den beamed.

  “We summoned you for a question,” Edrik interrupted. “You know the rumors we’ve all heard. Have you detected any other magic or spells that you haven’t told me about? Even the slightest hint?”

  “No, your majesty—but, in truth, I’ve been more focused on the west. You know why. Master Bedlam was just a fortunate mistake on my part!”

  Cabe shook his head. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  Den adjusted his lenses. “Thank you, Master Bedlam, but I don’t.”

  “This region is not the only one from which potential spellcasters have vanished,” Majjin pointed out.

  “No, but it’s where the most have.” Cabe glanced at the general. “I take it you’ve been making your own inquiries for some time.”

  “And will continue to do so. Gordagian citizens have been kidnapped. It is an affront to his majesty.”

  This received a nod from the king. “Whatever help we may offer you, master wizard, it’s yours.”

  “Actually, Den would be of use...if he doesn’t mind.”

  The novice mage nearly lost his lenses again. “It would be an honor—but how may I serve you?”

  Den’s awe reminded Cabe how he himself had felt the first time he had realized he wielded great power. “Your spell is better than you think. I’d like to see if we might be able to refine it.”

  Before Majjin could protest, Edrik cut him off with a wave of his hand, replying, “Certainly, Master Bedlam! The skills of all my spellcasters are yours to command in this effort.”

  “Thank you, but for now, I only need Den.”

  Den looked embarrassed. “Actually, I did have some help in the matter. You’ll want her, too.”

  “ ‘Her’?”

  At that moment, another robed figure entered apprehensively. “My lord, forgive my impertinence for disturbing—”

  “And here she is now,” burst Edrik, barely able to restrain himself from rising to greet the newcomer. Cabe noted a rueful smile momentarily grace Majjin’s bearded face. Both the general and the master wizard recognized the king’s infatuation with the newcomer.

  She wore robes akin to Den’s but while slim filled them much more attractively than he did. Her hair was long, straight, and brown—quite unremarkable—but it framed an ivory face such as cameo makers adored. She had deep brown, steady eyes that looked older than her by far. Cabe guessed the woman to be only a year or two older than Edrik.

  “We were just speaking of you,” the king went on, trying to recover his decorum. “Den rightly reminded us that you are just as responsible for the magic detection spell I wanted cast around the kingdom as he is. You came up with the variation that allowed us to extend it even further.”

  The woman blushed hard at his praise, making Cabe think that she shared his infatuation. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Majjin having to restrain his expression. The general did not like his lord to be entertaining any thoughts of romance with a spellcaster.

  “You honor my efforts too much...”

  “Hardly,” remarked Den. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Edrik clapped his hands together. “Then it’s settled. Master Bedlam, you have the full compliance of two of my best—”

  She gasped, looking full at Cabe, then Darkhorse, finally registering why a traveler’s mount would be allowed before the king. “Bedlam! You’re Cabe Bedlam!”

  “Now whose reputation precedes him?” jested the eternal.

  “They are yours to use, Master Bedlam. Den, you already know, but allow me to introduce to you—”

  The young woman stepped up to Cabe, staring deep into his eyes. Once again he had the sense of more years than her young form indicated. “Hala, Master Bedlam...you may call me Hala.”

  IV

  Bedlam...

  How long since he had heard that name? Two centuries at least.

  Tragaro clenched the armrests.

  “Bedlam...” he whispered. “Nathan...”

  Below him, where in the distance the huge corpse of the dragon slowly rotted, more than a dozen young figures in hooded robes stood positioned. The pattern they created multiplied their meager power, channeled it however Tragaro desired. When he had wanted the dragon dead, the others had channeled their magic through Genin and Hala, his prize pupils. Now, they did so for their master, enabling Tragaro to watch through the eyes of Hala, study both the one who bore Nathan’s name and the dark beast that ever followed a Bedlam.

  Tragaro matched the bronze smile of his mask. The Twins would be coming into perfect alignment very soon. How appropriate that a Bedlam should make himself available.

  “Yalak, Tyr, Basil...you and the rest shall be avenged. The blood of the drakes will be spilled! The Dragon Masters will be reborn!”

  He reached out at the image in his mind, the Bedlam, and tried to wrap his gnarled fingers around the throat. Although Tragaro failed, of course, he still derived some pleasure from the thought.

  Making Hala’s eyes shift, Tragaro peered at Darkhorse, ever a Bedlam’s hound. The black beast would have to be removed first. The masked wizard laughed. “Easily done...easily done...”

  Cabe felt some guilt at not having mentioned one fact to the king—the fact that he had a particular reason for wanting to reshape Den’s spell. The memory o
f the terrible mental blow he had suffered in the inn remained with him. Someone had twisted the lines of force so essential to magic with such disregard that it had nearly killed Cabe simply by his noting it.

  There were many advantages to being so sensitive to magic, but not if it meant suffering again such an attack. Cabe had no desire to repeat the incident. He hoped Den’s spell, properly altered, would make that possible.

  It turned out that the tip of the towering palace belonged not to Edrik, as Cabe had always assumed, but to the Gordagian wizards. Being wizards, they had decided to make the trek much easier for themselves and had installed a permanent travel spell—called by some as a blink hole. One end of the hole remained fixed at the ground floor of the palace, the other opened into the mages’ wing high above. One merely walked in one end and appeared out the other.

  It did not surprise Cabe that the Gordagians knew such advanced spell work. At the behest of Edrik’s father, some of the older ones had studied for a time at the school in Penacles that the Gryphon had set up. Both the lord of Penacles and the Bedlams had done what they could to see to it that a new generation of properly-trained spellcasters would become a reality.

  After several introductions to awestruck young mages, Cabe left a cheerful Darkhorse with the rest while he joined Den and Hala in private in the tip of the high tower, where the spell they had created constantly scanned the kingdom.

  Cabe studied the arrangement. In the center of the ten-by-ten room stood a pedestal on which four delicate crystals—red, blue, yellow, and white—had been set. Each represented a direction on the compass. Dangling over the center was a nut-sized lodestone. With his heightened senses, Cabe noted the intertwining and binding of the magical forces from one stone to the next, then how they were tied into the natural lines of power crisscrossing everything.

  “This is indeed astounding. Excellent work.”

  Den adjusted his lenses modestly while Hala simply blushed.

  “Show me this here,” he went on, pointing to questionable details within the matrix the pair had created. Cabe already had a good notion as to how he could do what he planned, but he wanted to be certain.