Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol III Part 73

The Storm Lord! So distracted by his visions of grandeur, of omnipotence, that he fell prey to a simple spell any apprentice could have cast! I caught him slumbering, dreaming of his perfection . . . and I simply made that dream go on and on and on . . .

What feeble creature dared speak so about he who moved the skies at will? In the blink of an eye, the Storm Dragon searched the world over, but failed to find the blasphemer.

A so-clever G.o.d, wouldn't you say? But too clever for himself, in the end.

Someone mocked him and he could not find the culprit. The Storm Dragon flew into a rage. Hurricanes swept over Irillian by the Sea, inundating the realm of the Blue Dragon. Floodwaters poured into the bowl-shaped region housing the kingdom of Zuu, sweeping away its inhabitants. Lightning ripped into Penacles, City of Knowledge, turning the kingdom of the Gryphon into one huge fire . . .

But all this brought the Dragon King no closer to discovering the heretic.

Determined to find him, the behemoth drew within him his power. Raging tempests all over the Dragonrealm dissipated instantly. The Storm Lord focused all his omnipotent will on the one task; he would find the knave.

Oddly, the more he withdrew into himself, the more it seemed that the cause of his fury lay in his own mind. He almost shook off the absurd notion, but again the voice taunted him.

See how he sleeps? A puppet with his own puppet world, playing the game I desire . . .

Fueled yet again by the sacrilegious words, the Dragon King confronted some barrier in his own thoughts. Whoever spoke out against their G.o.d thought to s.h.i.+eld themselves from his wrath! With a silent roar, the Storm Lord threw his full ferocity at the invisible barrier within- And woke up.

He no longer hovered over the world, as much a part of the heavens as the clouds or sun. Instead, he lay cramped in the back of one of his personal chambers and the worse part of it was that other, lesser creatures invaded the sanct.i.ty of his domain. The Storm Lord had every intention of punis.h.i.+ng all of them for their audacity-until he heard again the voice he had already grown to hate.

"You may take them away, now." It belonged to a tiny, cloth-covered figure that stirred some vague memory. The Dragon King did not bother to delve into that memory, for his entire mind suddenly fixated on the fact that, not only was this the one who mocked him, but now that very same creature pretended to be him.

No greater offense could there be in the history of the world.

The Storm Lord let out a roar of outrage- THE DRAGON KING'S fury rocked the entire cavern complex, sending bits of the ceiling dropping on those below. Yssa pulled Aurim back as one large piece struck the floor just where the wizard had been standing.

The drakes stumbled away, startled more by the monstrous, unexpected roar than the collapsing ceiling. Ssssurak looked around in open panic-and was the first to see the awakening behemoth.

"M-my lord?" he blurted, looking from the Storm Dragon to Shade and back again.

"Blasphemy!" roared the scaly tyrant, ignoring his confused servants. All that existed for him was the one who had dared the unthinkable. "You will be punished for this sacrilege, mortal!"

The onyx stone crackled with energy. A monstrous wind a.s.sailed not only Shade, but everyone near him. Huge drake warriors flew against the walls. Ssssurak clutched at Aurim, but the wind took him before he could grab hold. He struck the rock face with a harsh crack, then tumbled to the ground.

Aurim expected both him and Yssa to be tossed after the drakes, but an emerald s.h.i.+eld surrounded them, reducing the Storm Lord's fury to a slight breeze. He looked in surprise at Yssa, whose face was filled with strain. The wizard realized that, despite the warlock's spell, her mixed heritage had enabled her to do what Aurim could not.

Despite the Storm Lord's horrific a.s.sault, Shade stood untouched. The warlock's cloak did not even ruffle in the wind.

Behind Shade, the onyx crystal flared again-and the cavern walls around the dragon melted, pouring over the leviathan like hot lava. It covered him with such swiftness that even the immense creature could not stop it.

A drake warrior who had managed to regain his footing charged the warlock from the side. With an indifferent wave of his left hand, Shade sent a burst of crimson energy toward the attacker that struck the drake full in the chest-and burnt him to ash.

With a roar, the Dragon King shook off the steaming, hardening earth. He opened his mouth and flames scorched the area where Shade stood.

But again, the attack did not even singe the warlock's garments.

Shade drew from the crystal once more, sending a ring of fiery blades toward his adversary. The Storm Lord countered with a cloudless rain that washed the ring into oblivion.

And each time one of them cast a spell, the crystal flared more intensely.

Aurim eyed the stone. Even without the aid of magic, he could sense how the strain of both combatants actively drawing from it had begun to take a toll. The artifact could not much longer stand such abuse. At some point, the essential structure of the crystal would degrade.

When that happened, nothing would protect any of those still in the cave.

"Can you teleport us?" he asked Yssa.

She shook her head, unable to speak due to the continued effort of protecting them. The flames, the deadly rain . . . each attack spilled over on the pair. Aurim understood that if she tried to cast another spell, it would mean dropping their only defense.

Then a voice filled his head, a voice using the link with his mother-but that was not his mother's.

You must be ready when the artifact fails. We will guide you.

He glanced at the hooded figure battling the Dragon King.

The voice had been Shade's.

The crystal abruptly flared a deep crimson. Aurim felt the first hints of fragmentation. The stone had nearly reached its limits.

Caught up in their duel, neither Shade nor the Storm Lord seemed to notice or care. Scorch marks covered the Dragon King and the warlock's cloak had been reduced to tatters, but otherwise they had done little to one another.

"Give in to the inevitable, mortal creature!" roared the Storm Dragon. "And we shall grant you a merciful death!"

The warlock said nothing, but when he cast his next spell, the aura surrounding the artifact turned nearly as black as the crystal itself.

The crystal cracked.

It is time! said the unsettling voice in Aurim's head.

Hoping he was not being played for a fool, Aurim cast his spell. He felt the presence of both his mother and the one who had spoken last.

The artifact ruptured.

A t.i.tanic force washed over the wizard. He heard Yssa scream. From far away came the roar of a dragon-a dragon in agony.

And suddenly . . . silence reigned.

An anxious gasp stirred Aurim back to reality. He discovered that he lay face down in a muddy field. As the wizard pushed himself up, a pair of hands took hold.

Aurim looked up hopefully, but it was not Yssa. Instead, his mother's concerned, tearful face filled his view.

"Are you all right?" she gasped.

"I think . . . I think I am." As he straightened, Aurim desperately looked around. "Yssa-"

"There, my son."

The Green Dragon's daughter lay face up a few yards away. Aurim stumbled over to her, kneeling by her side. With relief, he saw that she breathed steadily.

Only then did he acknowledge his surroundings. The forest of willows, the swampy earth . . . "Wenslis?"

"Yes, far to the south. We cannot even see the mountains from here."

He paid no mind to that, more interested in something he had just noticed about their immediate surroundings. "The storm . . . it's stopped. It's not even raining."

It always rained in the Storm Lord's domain.

Gwen nodded. "Yes . . . it ceased almost immediately the moment we appeared here." She frowned. "It might mean something . . . and then again it might not. It's too soon to know. They both could be dead. They both could be alive. Whatever the case, only time will tell, for you and I are certainly not going back there."

Even the clouds had begun to evaporate. Aurim gaped up at a sun rarely seen in this region.

Yssa stirred. Her eyes opened and she saw him. She reached up and kissed Aurim gratefully, only afterward noticing Gwen's presence.

"Lady Bedlam, I-"

Pursing her lips slightly, Gwen said, "It's all right. We'll speak later. The important thing is that we're safe. I doubt any of the Storm Lord's minions are concerned about us at the moment."

"Thank you for saving us," the younger woman said.

"I?" The enchantress shook her head. "I did very little."

"Was it him, Mother?" Aurim asked as he helped his love to her feet. "Shade?"

Yssa frowned. "Another one?"

"No," Gwen responded. "Not another one." She gazed north, in the direction of the Storm Lord's stronghold. "The original one . . . I think."

Aurim looked around. "Where is he? What happened to him?"

She continued staring north. "He vanished after he dragged me here. You appeared on your own a moment later, as he promised. I think . . . I think he's gone back there."

"To the lair? For what?"

"I don't know, Aurim. I have this feeling that he knew everything that would happen, that he might have even planned all of this. Frankly, I'm too tired to care. Shade chose to save us . . . this time."

"And next time?"

"Forget that for now, Aurim. Can you teleport us home?" She nodded toward Yssa, her eyes softening a bit. "All of us, I mean?"

He checked. "I think I can."

"Then please do so at once. I need to speak to your father and the Gryphon. They have to know what happened in Wenslis." Her expression grew grim again. "Everything that happened in Wenslis."

Aurim nodded. The wizard took his mother in one hand, his beloved in the other and, with a last glance at the dour realm of the Storm Lord, concentrated . . .

HE FOUND THE body exactly where he knew it would be. Reaching down, he dragged it out of the earth. Even in death, the face remained blurred, indistinct.

Shade eyed his dead self, then laid one gloved hand across the face.

The hand glowed gold. The aura spread over the face, the head, then the entire body of the dead Shade. Quickly the aura enveloped the corpse, absorbed it . . . and fed it back to the figure leaning over.

When the last of his twin had been consumed, leaving no trace whatsoever, the warlock straightened. Turning, he surveyed the huge rock collapse caused by the explosion of the crystal. With a wave of his hand, Shade sent tons of rock and the corpses of dead drake warriors flying away, digging through the carnage until he came upon the one he sought.

The Storm Lord lay motionless, but alive. His entire body had been seared by the powerful blast, but, thanks to his great power, the dragon would survive.

One eye opened. It slowly focused on the figure before it. Hatred began to burn in the eye as recognition took place- "Time to sleep again," Shade whispered.

The eye struggled . . . then closed. The dragon's breathing grew calm. The inner edges of the huge maw curled slightly upward.

Shade drew his cloak around him. "Now I am whole," he said to himself. "Now I can do what must be done."

And with that, he disappeared.

THE TEMPEST COVERED the world. Wherever the Storm Lord focused his will, lightning struck and fierce winds blew. Rain poured and thunder crashed. No place was safe from his G.o.dly wrath and the people knew that. From Dragon Kings to Seekers to ground-dwelling Quel to elves to humans-all fell to their knees before his glory.

And from the heavens, the Storm Lord looked down and smiled to himself. All was as it should be. All was perfection.

Just as he had always dreamed it would one day be.

THE STILL LANDS.

Beware Death's shade . . .

I.

SILENCE FILLED THE gray land, but despite that, the young, cloaked woman sensed that she was far from alone. At a glance, the murky, shadowy place only gave hints of dour hills and macabre trees with empty, clutching branches, but whenever she neared any of those landmarks, they seemed to fade away like dreams at waking. Peering over her shoulder, she would see a different background than the one she had walked and yet, if she tried to go back even a step, everything in the direction that she had originally been walking would also change.

Again, the hooded traveler sensed others around her. She focused her mind and what she saw in that brief moment caused her to utter a gasp that sounded like thunder in this still place.

Gray figures, countless grey figures, milled around her, moving with no purpose that she could see. They were young, old, human, drake, elven-even an armored Quel briefly made an appearance. All had the same hollow look.

And just like that, they were gone again-or rather, she could no longer focus on them.

Shaken, she paused to sip from the thinning water sack at her waist. The water had taken on a brackish taste since her arrival, no surprise to her. The young sorceress forced herself to swallow it, then took a bite of a biscuit that, like the water, now had all the consistency and flavor of clay.

As she retied the sack, she could not help but again look herself over. Her once-emerald travel outfit had, here, become a dull, faded green and the brown leather boots looked a dead black. Her skin, already pale, resembled that of a corpse and even her cascading rich, red hair had a coloring more akin to dried blood. Only the streak of silver running down the right remained as bright as ever. Everything else about her was a shadow of what it had been before her coming here, but while it disquieted her, it no longer surprised.

What would one expect in the realm of the dead?

She should not have come here alone. Her father and mother would have been horrified beyond belief that she had attempted this and they were not ones to s.h.i.+rk from danger. Cabe and Gwendolyn Bedlam were the most renowned of spellcasters, the former from a legendary line that had produced both heroes and villains. The two had become instrumental in transforming the collective lands called the Dragonrealm into a continent all but free of the once-sweeping tyranny of the drake lords. Humans now dominated, for good or ill, in most places. Her parents had faced dragons, warlocks, the avian Seekers, demons, and the incessant evil of the wolf raiders without hesitation, but here was one place that they and any sensible being avoided.

But Valea had set herself upon a mission from which she felt no obstacle could deter her. From the dead, a figure had emerged again in the Dragonrealm and the crimson-tressed young woman was certain that she had been marked as the one who had to deal with him. It had begun with dreams and ghosts haunting her own ancient home, a collection of events that tied her to that resurrected danger as none other.