Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade (33 page)

“I will, but first I had to come to tell you a few things. Duke Ravos might be general of their army, but the Black Dragon will insist on controlling their plans! I know his mind well, almost as well as Toos did.” The avian/human eyes briefly clouded in memory of a lost comrade.
Then he said, “He is already having them follow certain aspects I’ve seen in the past, but there are some twists I suspect he believes will fool us into thinking otherwise.”

General Marner nodded. “There
was
something different on the right flank!”

Horns blared. With the general’s assistance, the Gryphon looked toward the direction of the sounds.

Dragons flew through the air. Enemy catapults fired one after another. The fanatic ranks surged forth, even though their wild charge left them more open to the fine archers of Penacles.

Yet, the sheer force of the sudden assault pushed the defenders back.

“Get me out there, Marner!” ordered the lionbird.

“Your Majesty!”

“Do it!”

Marner called for a pair of horses. He helped his lord mount, then did so himself.

The Gryphon led them into the area hardest hit. Men took heart the moment their legendary leader appeared among them. Cheers rose up and the lines steadied. The soldiers of Penacles began to take a terrible toll on their foes, even despite the presence of dragons.

A magical whirlwind caught one black behemoth and threw it into another. The Gryphon silently thanked the Lady of the Amber. Even the greatest asset of Lochivar was falling into disarray.

And yet, the Lochivarites kept coming. They pressed ahead of the mists, which seemed curiously faded. Although fueled by a lifetime of utter obedience, their strength flagged without the mystical fog. Still they pushed into the defenders, pushed into them and died.

“This is madness even for them!” Marner shouted as he gutted a savage warrior.

The Gryphon’s breathing came in rapid gulps, but he continued to battle in the thick of things. The Lochivarites converged on his location, but if they thought him an easy target, they were soon shown
the error of their beliefs . . . for the few seconds they lived. Using both sword and claw, the lionbird created a growing area of carnage around him.

“Madness, yes!” The Gryphon peered ahead. His sharp vision beheld none other than Duke Ravos. Yet, the Black Dragon’s heir looked oddly hesitant in his actions and even held back from joining the bloodiest part of the battle. “There is something amiss concerning this entire assault!”

Marner followed his gaze. “’Tis the duke himself!”

The Gryphon said nothing more. Pulling back from the front line, he quickly sheathed his sword. The general signaled other soldiers to take their place and joined his liege. “Your Majesty! You’re about to collapse! Please.”

“I need both your eye and your arm to protect me for a moment,” the Gryphon managed to say. “There is a spell I must try.”

“But, Your Majesty!”

“That . . . is . . . a royal command!” The Gryphon was not one to speak so. He was a soldier at heart and ruled only because he seemed to be the one able to keep Penacles secure. Once, he had left the kingdom to his trusted second, Toos, but, like the rest of the lionbird’s subjects, Toos had seen only the Gryphon as king. Even during the years that he sat on the throne, Toos had always called himself regent.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Marner kept a wary gaze on the Black Dragon’s servants, both those on the ground and the creatures in the sky. At the same time, he tried to keep watch on the Gryphon.

Inhaling deeply, the Gryphon suddenly surged with crimson energy. The lionbird shook as if almost fainting but waved back the general.

“Keep to your orders!” The Gryphon straightened.

A fiery ball shot forth, darting past startled warriors, through shields both physical and magical, and then struck its target.

Duke Ravos.

Marner cheered, expecting the drake to die a horrific death, but
Ravos only shivered. The sphere faded, leaving the duke apparently untouched.

Yet, Ravos looked entirely disconcerted. He reined his mount back and retreated farther to the rear.

“What by the Dragon of the Depths happened there? He deflects your spell right enough and then runs with his tail between his legs?”

“He did not—he did not deflect it!” The Gryphon weaved back and forth, the effort of his spell clearly taxing him too much.

The Gryphon tumbled from his mount. Marner leapt down beside him.

“We must get you back to Penacles, Your Majesty!” the general growled. “I knew I should’ve insisted!”

“I am—I am in contact with the Lady Bedlam. She—she will summon me in a moment.” The Gryphon inhaled, then grabbed the commander by the arm. “I know the truth! I understand why they are fighting so wildly! Even they don’t know it!”

General Marner shook his head. “Save your breath!” A dragon roared, the sound all too near. Marner knew that he had to get back to the battle, but he would not leave until his liege was safe.
When will the enchantress summon him back?

The Gryphon took another deep breath. “Listen! That is
not
Duke Ravos out there! The spell I cast was designed to detect illusion! That is not the heir!”

“Not the heir?”

“Do not look at me like that! That is not Ravos. That is why the enemy fights more haphazardly! Ravos is gone—and I think the Black Dragon, too!”

“Then we’re bound to win! If they’re both gone from the battle, there’s no one competent leading them.”

The lionbird nodded but did not look at all relieved. That bothered Marner.

“We may win—win the battle, General, but ask yourself—”

The lord of Penacles vanished, at last brought back to where he
could be looked after safely. Yet, as Marner rose, what his monarch had been about to say came to the general. The veteran soldier turned to stare at where his forces were not only holding steady but making incremental advances here and there. Yes, if things went as they looked, Penacles would win the battle.

But what are the Black Dragon and his heir up to?
Marner wondered.
Will we win today . . . only to lose everything tomorrow?

THIS IS WHERE
it all happened!
Shade recalled with outright horror.
This place and not some forsaken cave!

During the course of the sorcerer’s many, many lives, there had been few consistent things other than his curse. There had always been some fragmented memories of his existence as a Vraad, especially his fear that the land was seeking to turn the intruders into something it better desired. That fear had led him on a long quest, during which he had tried to maintain his existence for centuries until that no longer proved viable. With no other recourse, Gerrod Tezerenee had finally put together a master spell that he believed would guarantee his immortality . . . and immunity from the land’s intentions. However, the spell had gone awry and he had been reborn elsewhere with an entirely different personality, an entirely different life.

Or so Shade had been
meant
to remember.

Yet, now, as he stared at the scene around him, including icons carved into the walls that matched the ancient giants found in both the sanctum of the Dragon Emperor and the realm of the hill dwarves, Shade understood that those last memories had been implanted in his mind. Instead, the warlock
had
found the tower. He
had
sought to make use of its power to save him from the land.

And in doing so, Shade had actually delivered himself into the control of the very force he so feared.

“The spell never went wrong,” he murmured, staring from the faceless figures to a confused and concerned Valea. “I
was
transformed. Through this infernal creation, I became what I am.”

Shade . . . the curse and the legend . . . had been the intentional creation of the founders.

He shook a fist at the phoenix, which watched his reactions with utter detachment. “Why? For what purpose? What insanity?”

As a servant of change.

The reply struck Shade hard. “I do not understand!”

For the first time, the phoenix appeared slightly uneasy, almost as if it, too, did not quite understand.
You serve their purpose. The same as I. The same as them.

As the words faded from the hooded sorcerer’s mind, Shade sensed others in the chamber.

“Took ya long enough to get back here,” Magron Sym wryly remarked from far to the side of Valea and the faceless ones.

“We had to be patient,” Edrin Sym added.

The two dwarves did not look triumphant or condescending. Their expressions and tones were those of someone simply performing a duty, one that perhaps they did not even care much for.

“You two were here then, also.” Shade glared, a fact he knew even then was lost upon the dwarves.

“Aye,” answered Edrin, looking not at all pleased. “’Tis our duty to stand ready to serve. As it is yours.”

A dark fury arose in Shade. He summoned together power and flung it at the sinister device.

Before the amassed energies could touch, the phoenix formed between them and the founders’ device. Shade’s attack engulfed the guardian, who shrieked. The phoenix burned to mist.

And almost immediately after re-formed where it had stood originally.

We all serve,
the avian said again, and this time Shade could hear that it, too, had no choice.

“They knew long before it happened that they were dying out,” Edrin said, explaining almost by rote. “We were made from a bit of ’em, the least bit, and fashioned to do with our hands what even they couldn’t with their magic.” The last was said with the first hint of emotion—pride—that Shade had heard from the dwarven leader thus far.

“Whatever they needed built, we built it. Whatever they needed carved, we carved. We worked and fashioned everything for ’em, including this,” Magron added, also showing pride.

Shade could not resist. “And for that, you were rewarded with nothing.”

Edrin glared. “We were created to serve. So were you, Vraad. They gave up on your kind long afore you lot found your way out of your little cage! They had themselves a notion and let you high and mighty sorcerers play it out . . . but they needed themselves a wild card to keep their new creations in check until they could decide if they were good enough.”

“I was led to my torture, my endless ordeal—all the blood on my hands—just so that the Dragon Kings could be kept from too much power?”

“A bit more complicated than that, but basically, yes. You gave the land a means to make big corrections and changes as it saw fit.”

A puppet. His entire existence had been that of a puppet. All that terrifying power, those dreaded deeds, merely to keep the course of the mortal creatures of the Dragonrealm as the founders decided it must be.

“And you still follow their madness?” he asked incredulously. “I have seen the hill dwarves. They are not all immortal. They live and die like every other race.”

Edrin’s gruff face saddened. “Aye. My brother and I, we’ve watched loved ones perish again and again. The last king, he was of my blood. We left and entered dwarven life over and over, always standing ready when needed. We’re the last of the originals and that’s why they kept us going. We know this mechanism, should it need repair.”

“You purposely brought out the stone,” Valea suddenly interjected from where she was held. “You wanted it taken from the caverns!”

“Couldn’t just give it over. Tried that the last time and it ended up in the king’s hands. Had to make this one work for it so that he wouldn’t know what was happening.”

Aware that his features were not distinct even to the dwarves, Shade surreptitiously eyed the phoenix and the device while he faced the twins. “But I didn’t steal it. The Crystal Dragon did.”

“That
was
a bit of luck. We didn’t know he knew about it. The pasty ones, yes, but not him.”

Pasty ones?
“The Lords of the Dead?”

Edrin started toward the mechanism. “Aye, your dear cousins. They think this thing’ll give them the power and the life they crave.”

“Will it not?”

Edrin reached the artifact. He raised his left hand toward the nearest script. “Oh, aye. If they had a chance to reach it, but they don’t. Not even with the life force of a Dragon King to fill their spell.”

While he had no idea what the dwarf meant by the last, Shade knew that it was not wise to underestimate the necromancers. If they knew half of what
he
did, that made them capable of far more than Edrin or the faceless ones understood.

Never underestimate a Vraad
. It was a fact with which Gerrod Tezerenee had grown up and it was one that marked Shade’s entire accursed existence, for at heart, despite his denials, he was still one of them.

And that meant that even now, Shade had not given up.

Edrin placed his hand on one of the words. The script grew brighter and as it did, the structure itself began to vibrate perceptibly.

The low, steady sound stirred more memories in Shade. He had watched Edrin—or whatever this dwarf’s true name was—perform the same step. The hooded sorcerer was even able to predict the next move Edrin would make.

The dwarf touched a symbol slightly higher. The artifact’s vibration altered, touching some chord in Shade’s hearing.

He cannot be allowed to continue.
To Edrin, Shade asked, “And what do they want with me?”

“Oh, ’tis not just you. They’ve been waitin’ for her all this time, too.”

Shade did not recall anyone else being a part of what had happened last time. There had only been him.

Edrin touched a third word and a stairway formed out of light. Despite seeming nothing but illusion, Shade knew that if he stepped onto it, it would support his weight. The steps would enable him to reach the unseen top of the artifact.

The top.

Then Shade thought again about what Edrin had just said. “She is no part of this! I will do as the land demands, but send her from here!”