coming battle, what they possibly faced, and the continuing agreement that this was folly and the expedition should have actually been sent north or northwest to deal with the suddenly active clans of Silver. The warlock smiled; Talak would get to fight the Silver Dragon sooner than they expected.
The night would soon be upon them. Then he would go to the elderly sorcerer and relieve him of the burdensome knowledge locked in his subconscious. After that, the wrong that had been done to Shade could finally be corrected. He would be immortal, have control of the powers of this world, and have no rivals to argue his claim. There were good points to being the last of his kind. The Dragonrealm would be his to mold into a proper domain, and its inhabitants would adore him-because he would will it so.
A harsh voice, an old memory, thrust through his mind like a well-sharpened sword. Do not dream! Act!
The corners of his mouth curled downward as he observed Drayfitt departing for one of the larger tents.
“Yes, father,” he muttered coldly to the ghosts in his head.
AS THE LAST vestiges of an ignoble day departed beneath the horizon, Drayfitt discovered an odd thing about himself. The first few minutes on his feet-after a whole day’s journey on the back of the monster some fool of a soldier had chosen for him-he had been totally exhausted and sore to the point of numbness. Now, only minutes after sitting down on the cot in his tent, he felt refreshed and actually stronger than ever. His abilities, too, seemed sharper. Drayfitt stared thoughtfully into space for several minutes, then looked up at a lantern someone had lit for his use. Pursing his lips, he whistled to the flame. To his delight, a tiny red figure immediately leaped out of the fire and down to the ground. Miniature plumes of smoke trailed after him. The figure was little more than a doll, lacking even a face. It walked up to the spellcaster and bowed gracefully.
Drayfitt whirled his finger once. The flame-creature did a flip, landing on its feet again. It repeated its bow.
Laughing quietly, the sorcerer whistled for another figure. The one that leaped out this time was female in shape. She joined her counterpart and executed a curtsy. At a silent command from their creator, the two fiery dolls stepped together and began to dance. Around and around they spun. Drayfitt watched them with a child’s glee; Ishmir had performed a trick like this when Drayfitt had been little more than a baby. It was one of the reasons he had later tried to follow in his famous brother’s footsteps. It was one of the first tricks he discovered he did not have the aptitude for. The potential was there, but the powers, for some reason, refused to respond properly. Ishmir had claimed on several occasions that the only difference between a Dragon Master and a simple street showman was strength of will.
Finally tiring of his little dancers, he dismissed them back to the flame. It was silly, he decided, to waste his newfound strength on so childish a spell. With his present level of competency, the aged spellcaster realized that an entire world had opened up to him. Up until now, his skills had served him adequately at best-lengthening his lifespan and blurring the memories of those around him when necessary. Now, he could take his place as a true sorcerer, one who did not have to worry about the Seeker talismans that Counselor Quorin wore upon his person to keep him safe from magical assault by outside foes. He, Drayfitt, would guide the king to a more reasonable course of action, make Talak truly a city guiding the Dragonrealm to peace.
“I hope you will excuse the intrusion,” a mockingly polite voice asked quietly.
Drayfitt spun around, all his newfound strength at the forefront for this sudden attack. He knew whom he faced-even though he had not expected to actually see the other’s visage.
“Yes, I am Shade.” The hooded warlock bowed in what seemed a perfect imitation of the fire elemental’s bow. He had something unidentifiable in each hand. For some reason, Drayfitt’s stomach churned uneasily.
“I bring you-offerings.” Shade threw the two objects to the ground. As they landed, legs and tails formed. Two very large and very nasty scorpions trundled toward one another, preparing to lock with one another in battle.
“They were partners in crime once. Sent by someone who would see you dead. Poison was to be their weapon, poison in your food this very night. Enough to kill a dragon.”
Drayfitt turned pale. The scorpions sparred with their claws, their wicked tails waiting for some opening.
“I thought it only appropriate that they suffer justice akin to their crime. Don’t you agree?” The expression on Shade’s face-Drayfitt still marvelled over the fact that there was a face-was one of indifference. He might have been watching a leaf blown along by a gust of wind.
As if released from some spell, the two scorpions attacked in earnest now. Claws tore at legs. The tails darted forward and snapped back as if some mad puppeteer were controlling them. One creature succeeded in tearing a leg from his adversary. Overconfident, he was almost struck in the head by the wounded one’s stinger. As it was, the near disaster put him off guard and his opponent, dripping ichor where the leg had been lost, forced him back.
Drayfitt looked from the scorpions to the warlock. Shade noted his emotions and snapped his fingers at the two duelists. Both backed away just far enough to separate themselves from one another, their stingers tensed.
Shade lowered his hand. The scorpions struck one another on the head again and again, piercing each other’s brain. They continued to strike one another long after each should have been dead from the physical damage alone.
“Enough,” the hooded figure commanded.
Two lifeless husks dropped to the ground. They decayed rapidly and within seconds there was no trace of either.
Summoning his courage, Drayfitt glared at the intruder. “Why have you come here? What was that damnable display supposed to prove?”
“Prove? They were going to kill you on Counselor Quorin’s command.”
“What?” Even having expected the answer to his second question, it was unsettling to actually hear it. “You could have left them alive rather than torture them so! This would’ve been what I needed to rid the king of that feline’s poisonous words!”
“I wouldn’t worry about your king. I think he’s due to be toppled tomorrow.” Shade scratched his chin. “Yes, tomorrow is correct.”
“What sort of mad game are you playing?” Drayfitt readied himself. How his newfound strength would hold against the power of the eldest, most skilled spellcaster alive was difficult to say. Not very well, he supposed after a moment’s consideration. “If you planned on killing me, why not simply have those two poor souls do the work for you?”
“Kill you?” The warlock looked openly startled. “I have no desire to kill you. Just give me what I want and I’ll erase your memories of this night. Simple as that.”
“Erase my memories? After you tell me my king is in danger?”
“He’ll be toppled whether you know or not. Besides, I made a pact and I will abide by it. Be reasonable. I just want a piece of your mind.” The ends of Shade’s mouth tilted upward and he stretched out a hand toward the elderly sorcerer. Drayfitt found that Shade’s sense of humor escaped him.
Where are the sentries? he suddenly wondered. Shade was talking loud enough for anyone within the general area to hear him, yet no one had come to investigate. And I didn’t even notice the spell-whatever it was, Drayfitt concluded. What chance do I have? What choice do I have?
“You will not take memories that are not yours!”
“Ohhh, but they are! My memories, I mean! You studied that book from end to end; I know. Even if you cannot recall its contents consciously, it remains trapped within you. I merely plan to sift through until I find them. You should be reasonable about this.”
As Shade spoke, Drayfitt felt his arms and legs grow heavy. He took a step toward the warlock, thinking ruefully how much this resembled his failure during Darkhorse’s temporary escape. That reminder seemed to give him the impetus he needed. Summoning his strength, he broke the spell the warlock had wound around him with such ease that it left him startled.
Shade did not look too pleased, either. “Do not resist me. You only play the role of mage; I am magic! Give me what is mine and I will leave you be.”
Drayfitt made a circular motion with his left arm. “Anything of such value to you should be kept from you at all costs. I know what you are. I know the destructive effects of Vraad sorcery.”
The sand began to creep up Shade’s legs at a rate that caught the warlock unaware until it was up to his
