Legends of the Dragonrealm Page 5

  Without hesitation, Cabe obeyed.

  VII

  Unlike the Gordagians, Darkhorse chose to move with more stealth. He had learned his lesson and knew his foes to be crafty. If they had captured or slain Cabe, they were among the darkest and deadliest he had ever known.

  A creature formed of a magic, he could meld into the land. More important, he now focused all his power on evading detection, creating a shield he hoped that would make him a blank to anyone watching.

  That he also sensed nothing of Cabe disturbed Darkhorse. That a mage as capable as his friend could be so easily overwhelmed did not bode well. They had confronted a variety of evils in their time together and while both had nearly perished more than once, matters had always come to a good end.

  Now, Darkhorse was not so certain.

  Beyond the pass, the eternal slowed. He could sense traces of magic here and there, peculiar traces that were different from one another yet also the same. Curious, he probed them deeper, with the same results. They were and were not the same signature.

  Then Darkhorse sensed a much more welcome trace, that of Cabe. It was faint, almost completely faded, but identifiable.

  And it drifted amidst all the rest.

  He was surrounded, Darkhorse decided. Still, from what he could judge of the other traces, they lacked the intensity he would have expected of powerful spellcasters. True, together they represented a respectable level of ability and strength, but certainly not sufficient against the Cabe Bedlam.

  So what had happened?

  Scarcely had he delved more, though, when he sensed the casting of a major spell. Not near him, but rather further south, likely within the pass—

  The pass through which General Majjin and his troops now journeyed.

  Darkhorse nearly teleported himself there immediately, so anxious was he to warn the humans. Then it occurred to him that to do so would be to announce himself to whoever had cast the spell. For the sake of everyone, the shadow steed had to keep his own escape as secret as he could.

  He raced back, utilizing swiftness no ordinary equine could match. The trees were blurs, the land a vague flash of images. Darkhorse ran as he had never run before.

  And as he ran, a feeling of dread spread over him...

  Tragaro’s new Dragon Masters materialized throughout the two sides of the Myridian Pass, unblinking eyes fixed on the approaching column below. Although scattered for some distance, they might as well have been standing shoulder-to-shoulder, so well-linked were they to one another.

  At the forefront, Tragaro had placed his most favored ‘pupils’—Hala, the young man Genin, and the one who would be the experienced hand who wielded their combined might...Cabe Bedlam.

  As for their master, the elder wizard remained within the ruined chamber, eyes within the mask alight with anticipation. The dragon had been a tremendous test, yes, but this would be the first in the field. This would prove to him their readiness. The ease and swiftness with which they destroyed the column would tell Tragaro whether they were ready to strike at the crumbling confederation of drake clans to the west.

  He had little doubt of the outcome. Without the Bedlam, it would have proven more troublesome, but with him there was no question.

  The niggling sensation rose anew in Cabe’s head as the Gordagian column neared. Cabe was certain of his task, for it had been given to him by Master Tragaro, but a tiny part of him protested. That protest grew, especially when he felt the others begin to meld their minds together in preparation for giving their united power to him.

  They interfere with the planned destruction of the drakes, came Tragaro’s thoughts. They must therefore share the drakes’ fate.

  He understood that to be fact. It made perfect sense. The protesting dwindled again.

  At the head of the column, Cabe made out a face vaguely familiar to him. A bearded officer. The man looked this way and that, clearly wary of his surroundings, but willing to push on despite that wariness.

  It would be a fatal mistake.

  Raising his arms, Cabe prepared his spell. At the same time, he felt the others begin to feed him their might.

  Near his feet, loose pebbles began to quiver. The quivering spread, touching other loose rocks and stones farther and farther away—and in the direction of the encroaching soldiers.

  Hala and Genin stepped beside him, linking to Cabe and further increasing the intensity of the spell he cast. Now the ground shook with more vigor, enough so that those below at last became aware of something amiss.

  But as Hala’s mind touched Cabe’s, something else happened. An image briefly filled his thoughts, an image of a young, studious wizard—lenses perched on his nose—trying to awaken him from some nightmare.

  “Den?” he murmured.

  The vision faded, but in its wake it left more uncertainty. Cabe hesitated, the spell faltering.

  Tragaro’s imposing presence touched him instantly.

  Bedlam! They approach! Let the mountains fall upon them!

  Cabe fell back into the rhythm of the spell. The ground shook with more vehemence. Loose boulders and rubble tumbled toward the Gordagians.

  The bearded commander looked up, made out the several figures high above. He shouted something to his men and several tried to ride toward the towering ridges, but the tremors drove them back.

  This is not right! This is murder! a voice in his head cried.

  He belatedly realized it was his own.

  And at last Cabe Bedlam truly stirred from Tragaro’s spell.

  Swinging his hands palm back to each side, he struck both Hala and Genin in the chest with simple but effective bolts of raw force.

  With cries of startlement, the two flew back several yards, landing hard. Hala lay prone, but Genin attempted to rise.

  Cabe sent another bolt his direction.

  They were not dead, not even badly injured. Tragaro had made puppets of them and Cabe had no desire to slay innocents if he could prevent it.

  Of course, that did not mean that the innocents might not try to slay him.

  Tragaro did not wait to respond to Cabe’s betrayal. Suddenly the rest of his ‘flock’ refocused their combined energies, turning them instead on the more dangerous enemy in their midst.

  The ground beneath the wizard’s feet transformed, becoming a giant hand that sought to crush him in its grasp.

  Before the fingers could close, though, a swift black form flew past, snagging Cabe and dragging him off.

  With a toss of his head, Darkhorse set his human friend atop his back, then turned to avoid a horrendous shower of icicles that nearly perforated both of them.

  “Darkhorse!” Cabe gasped as he clutched the shadow steed’s mane. “He said you were trapped!”

  “There is not the trap that can hold me—not without a little help from friends, of course!” The stallion sobered. “Young Den somehow worked to reach out to me from afar, paving the way for my freedom!”

  “Den...Darkhorse...Den is dead! He tried to free me, but Tragaro murdered him!”

  Cabe had rarely known the eternal to miss a step, but Darkhorse did so now. “Tragaro? Impossible! Tragaro is dead!”

  “He seemed very much alive, although with that mask I can’t say what condition his face was left in!”

  “Mask?”

  “A bronze one with an evil mirth to it. You can see his pale eyes and mouth through it.”

  Darkhorse paused atop a ridge, gaze not on Cabe but the robed figures turning to face them again. “The eyes sound like Tragaro’s, but I am certain he perished! I am certain I saw his corpse!”

  Their debate ended abruptly as the ridge upon which they were perched suddenly gave way, the hard rock turned to soft, useless sand. Darkhorse leapt away. Cabe noticed and appreciated that the ebony stallion consistently steered Tragaro’s novice Dragon Masters
away from General Majjin’s troops.

  “This must end!” Darkhorse roared. “Yet I don’t wish to harm these if I can! They are pawns of another!”

  “I agree, but if we need to hurt them to keep this from going further, we’ll have to! We can’t risk more lives, not the Gordagians nor even the drakes!”

  The ice-blue eyes of the stallion studied the robed youths. “Are they truly any danger to us when we are together, Cabe?”

  “By themselves, no, but Tragaro is linked to them and he amplifies any threat a hundredfold!”

  “I feared you would say that. We may have to slay some of them yet.”

  Den’s screams flashed through the wizard’s head once more. Cabe could not allow any more to suffer or die. “No...not if I can help it. I think we need to split up again.”

  “Not a wise move.”

  “Listen to me! I need you to keep them at bay, prevent them from either leaving or casting any spells at Majjin and his men!”

  The shadow steed’s head twisted around to stare into Cabe’s eyes. “And what is it you intend to do in the meantime?”

  Cabe’s set his mouth tight. “I’m going to face our masked friend.”

  “Folly! We should face him together!”

  “He’ll either summon the others back or use the moment to destroy the Gordagians! Either way, innocents will perish!”

  “And if you go alone, you might!”

  But the wizard’s mind was made up. “Keep things going here and he’ll either be forced to split his efforts or concentrate solely on me. If he does the latter, then you’ll have a chance to rescue those he’s ensorcelled.”

  “Cabe—”

  “No more arguing.” Cabe focused on what he recalled of Tragaro’s domain. The clearer the image, the more certain he was of materializing in the right location. “I’ve got to go now!”

  “Beware! Your grandfather Nathan considered Tragaro a most accomplished Dragon Master!”

  As he vanished, Cabe managed to call back, “Then, I’ll just have to be better...”

  VIII

  Once again, a Bedlam had betrayed him. Once again, the cleansing of the land had been thwarted—at least for a time. The dream of a realm free of dragons was his only purpose, the only reason he had persevered so long.

  Tragaro rose from the ruined throne, gnarled hands cupped together in anticipation. This Bedlam assumed himself as clever as Nathan or Azran.

  He was about to discover that Tragaro was cleverer by far than all three.

  Cabe choked back a gasp, but not because of the stench. He had been prepared for the odious smell of the decaying dragon, but what he had not been prepared for was the blackened, crisp skeleton almost at his feet.

  The final, charred remains of Den.

  Disgust and regret gave way to anger. Den had done nothing more than try to save Cabe and Darkhorse. Tragaro had burned him alive simply for that.

  “Such emotion. Its like brought the Dragon Masters down and left the lands in the claws of the drakes for another two centuries.”

  “I knew you were about,” Cabe said without turning. “I assumed you wanted to announce yourself dramatically. It seems your way.”

  He sensed the spell as Tragaro cast it and quickly turned to counter. The shining silver shield came up just as the rocky projectiles struck. The stalactites and stalagmites shattered, showering both mages with rock.

  Tragaro immediately gestured. The projectiles’ remnants reformed around Cabe in an attempt to entomb him.

  Without even a movement, the younger wizard dispersed the fragments again.

  “I also assumed you’d try something like that,” Cabe remarked, nodding his head toward the massive corpse. “since it worked so well before.”

  “I merely test your skills, Bedlam. You answer some questions.” The smile within the smile stretched menacingly. “Now I begin in earnest.”

  The stone floor beneath Cabe’s feet suddenly cracked open. A hot gust of wind rising up barely warned him in time of what was to follow.

  As Cabe threw himself to the side, a burst of molten lava shot up, striking the high ceiling.

  The surface on which Cabe had landed suddenly liquefied. His right foot sank in to the shin. He tried to push himself up, only to have his hand sink as well. When he tried to pull either free, it was to find both mired completely.

  “I am a Dragon Master...” Tragaro quietly uttered as he approached the floundering form. “...and you...you are not even worthy of the name Bedlam.”

  Cabe sank beneath the liquid stone.

  “Not even worthy at—”

  Tragaro raised his arm over his masked face as the black tar suddenly flew up and over him. The Dragon Master vanished under the torrent.

  Face grim, Cabe rose from the hole created by his surprise assault and searched for his adversary. Yet, as the liquid stone splattered to the floor and resolidified, it left no trace whatsoever of the other spellcaster. As quick as Cabe had countered Tragaro’s vile work, so, too, had the dark wizard reacted in defending himself.

  A bony, blackened hand clutched Cabe’s throat from behind. Twisting, he stared into the sightless sockets of Den’s skeletal visage.

  The knowledge of just who he faced nearly did Cabe in...no doubt exactly as Tragaro intended. The regrets, the hindsight, they stifled Cabe’s reaction, made it hard for him to consider any escape.

  His air cut off, his heart pounding madly, Cabe struck wildly at Den’s skeletal form. Yet, the ghoulish corpse did not explode as it should have. Instead, the force of Cabe’s spell scattered in every direction, even at its own caster.

  That which had been the novice wizard pulled Cabe high, dangling the struggling mage like a trapped animal.

  Cabe shut his eyes.

  Den shuddered and released his victim as a lance that gleamed as bright as the sun pierced his burnt torso where the heart had once beat. The corpse staggered back.

  Utilizing what magic he could, the wizard landed somewhat unsteadily on his feet. Rubbing his throat, he watched as the Sunlance suddenly flared. From his grandfather, Cabe had inherited the ability to call upon the Light Of Kylus—the last the elven name for the sun—and create a gleaming shaft that always struck its mark. The first time he had used the ability had been by pure accident, when the Dragon King Brown had attempted to kill him.

  But where Brown had simply fallen dead, the animated corpse now glowed as brightly as the lance. The light grew brighter, blinding. Cabe could no longer even see the dead Gordagian’s form.

  Then, with one last sudden flare, the Sunlance vanished again...and with it went the last traces of Den.

  “A Sunlancer...” Tragaro’s voice declared...for once a hint of respect in it. “The Bedlam isss a Sunlancer.”

  Still gasping for breath, Cabe turned to meet the Dragon Master. He took little pleasure in the fact that Tragaro also breathed heavily. At least the elder mage could stand without the fear of teetering. “A Sunlancer, yes. It’s a family tradition. One I’ll share with you firsthand unless you give in now.”

  Tragaro laughed harshly. “You are in no condition to summon a second such marvel, Bedlam. Your last trick is played, whereas I have still one more at hand...”

  His strength nearly depleted, Cabe nonetheless tried to ready himself. The longer he delayed, the more likely that Darkhorse would have the other situation resolved. Bereft of his mesmerized slaves, Tragaro would be a danger more possibly contained.

  If Cabe survived, that is.

  The masked figure simply stood there, both mouths grinning. Cabe tried his best to detect some twinge of spellcasting, some hint that his foe was preparing his next magical attack. Tragaro was too far away for any physical assault, even with a dagger, and against such mundane assaults, the younger mage kept himself well-protected, anyway.

  Then, Tragaro
opened his mouth.

  Out came a thick stream of pure flame.

  Darkhorse expected Tragaro’s ensorcelled pupils to continue their assault against him, but, to his dismay, they turned from the shadow steed and instead renewed their efforts against General Majjin.

  Rather than have the good sense to retreat, the Gordagian commander ordered his men off their horses. The soldiers spread out through the pass, trying to get near the mages. Several had bows out, the intention obvious. Majjin planned to save the kidnapped spellcasters even if he had to kill them to do it.

  Yet, it was Majjin’s men who suffered loss. The first archers to get close enough to have a chance suddenly found the earth opening under them. Two men screamed as they plummeted into the sudden chasm. Another scrambled to safety, only to have an unnatural wind thrust him back over the gap. He plunged, his cry cut off as the chasm shut tight again.

  Majjin, however, was not one to be daunted even in the face of deadly odds. He continued to spread out his forces, perhaps trying to draw the mages into too many fronts and thereby splinter their efforts.

  But the robed figures seemed not at all put off by the general’s tactics. The tremors increased and rock slides began everywhere. Herons cried out and abandoned their nests.

  As if taking its cue from the birds, the river suddenly left its banks, rushing over several Gordagians who had headed toward it. Five vanished, while several more floundered about, their armor weighing them down dangerously.

  Darkhorse trod across the raging water. With his mouth he snatched one struggling soldier, then formed appendages on each side to seize others. Seeing no more, he reluctantly departed the river with the four he had saved and brought his precious cargo to the frustrated commander.

  “Are you daft, human? Your warriors die left and right and you simply send them in for more! Be gone from here! We will deal with this madness!”