Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

fend for itself cause them to become careless and slovenly.

He did not see Gwen at first, not until he turned halfway around and discovered her standing only a few feet from him. She looked mildly surprised at the sight of his companion.

“What’s wrong with Aurim?” she asked quietly. The enchantress made no immediate move to aid Cabe with his burden.

“I think that he’s been trying to free himself from Toma’s spell. I think he’s done something worse now.” Cabe began helping Aurim to the nearest chair.

“He should be in his room, then.”

“We can look him over just as easily here,” the warlock returned, just slightly annoyed. He could not shake the sudden feeling that he had missed something. The enchantress spoke much too calmly, and the only times that Cabe could recall when she had spoken in such a way was when she had either been ill or angry with him. Glancing her way, he noticed no sign of sickness, but neither did she seem upset with him. Gwendolyn simply seemed . . . detached.

“I can’t right now.” She gave no explanation.

He started to straighten. “What do you mean you can’t d-?”

“Is everything all right here?” asked a voice from the doorway of the library. Cabe looked up and saw Benjin Traske standing there. “I thought-” His eyes alighted on Aurim and his mouth shut. After a breath or two, he finally added, “Master Aurim . . . are you well?”

Cabe was about to answer for his son when Aurim quietly asked, “Father, will you help me to my room?”

The scholar stepped toward the Bedlams. “Allow me to do that, my Lord Bedlam. I am certain that you and the Lady Bedlam have much to do. Is that not correct, Lady Gwendolyn?”

“Yes, let Benjin help him, Cabe.”

The warlock gaped at his bride. Could she not see how disoriented their son was? Benjin Traske, for all his offer of assistance, could hardly aid Aurim in this. The situation called for a knowledge and skill in sorcery. Traske barely had even a glimmer of ability.

From his chair, Aurim leaned toward his father. “Would you help me, please?”

That was enough for Cabe. The younger man was almost pleading. Aurim was probably afraid that he had caused more harm than good to himself, which was the way his father also felt. That Gwen could not see it astounded Cabe. Later, he would have a word with her, but for now, it was best that he brought Aurim back to his room and did what he could to help.

“Take my arm,” he ordered his son. To Traske, he added, “I thank you for your concern, but I’ll take care of this.”

The massive tutor’s face grew expressionless and he bowed. “As you wish, my Lord Bedlam. Then, if I may have but a word with your wife, I’m certain that she will be along shortly to help you.”

“Of course,” replied the enchantress.

Cabe had no more time to consider Gwendolyn’s behavior. With Aurim holding on to him, albeit unsteadily, he simply turned to her and said, “Please hurry.”

Her reply was a rather disinterested, “I will.”

He was still frowning when Aurim’s bedchamber took the place of the library. The tired mage helped his son to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Aurim looked around as if he had lost something. Cabe scanned the room, but saw no object that might have been what the younger sorcerer was seeking.

“She . . . they . . .” Aurim let loose with an uncharacteristic snarl. “Just a little more! I only need a little more and then I’ll have it!”

“Aurim, what are you talking about?” Cabe knelt by his son and tried to meet the latter’s gaze. Aurim stared past him, however, a haunted look in the young man’s eyes.

“Benjin . . . he’s the key . . . Traske with a ‘T’ . . . that’s how I remember it. ‘T’ also stands . . .”

“Son . . .”

The other waved him silent. “The spell didn’t . . . didn’t set right. Not this time. Traske with a ‘T’ . . .” Aurim suddenly looked up. A smile slowly grew. At last, he met his father’s gaze. This time, the haunted look had been replaced by one of weary triumph. “Father! Benjin Traske-”

“How is he doing?”

Startled, they both looked up to see Gwendolyn standing by the door. Cabe had not noticed her materialize, and he was certain that neither had their son.

Aurim was pleased to see her. “Mother! I was just about to tell Father! I remember! I think he must have not known that I’d worked on destroying the original spell. When he tried to cast it again, he only turned it into something even more haphazard.”

The warlock turned his back on his wife. Something that Aurim had just said had struck him almost dumb. “Aurim! Did you say that it was cast again?”

“Yes! Listen! He’s been here all the time, laughing at us! Father, Benjin Traske is Duke Toma! ”

He stared at his son, unable to make sense out of the pronouncement. Benjin Traske . . . Toma? “Aurim, you can’t mean that, can you?”

His son grabbed him by the arms. “Father, we have to act! He’s taken Ursa and I think he must have Valea!”

It was still inconceivable. “But we just left Traske at the library, Aurim!”

“I know, but it wasn’t quite clear to me, then. I only knew that I had to get away from him! I-” Aurim looked past him to his mother. Cabe saw his eyes widen.

If I may have but a word with your wife . . .

“Look out!” shouted the young spellcaster. One arm thrust forward in a defensive maneuver as Cabe was suddenly thrown to the side.

The room was suddenly aglow with emerald green flame. Intense heat buffeted Cabe, but he knew that it should have been far worse. The spell should have killed him instantly, killed him and Aurim, too.

At the hands of Gwen.

Cabe rolled over just enough so that he could see what was happening. Before him, the doorframe outlining her, stood the scarlet-and-emerald enchantress. Her hands were outstretched, and even behind the magical shield that Aurim had managed to just barely create, the master warlock could sense the incredible river of power being thrust at them.

Gwendolyn’s face was still indifferent, almost blank. How long had she been under Traske’s . . . Toma’s cursed spell? Not for very long, but definitely before the disguised renegade had entered the library. Traske had been surprised to see Aurim there, too, which meant that he had thought that he had already dealt with Cabe’s son.

The library had been a trap, one set to snare him in particular. Had Aurim not been with him, Cabe would have gone there alone to talk with his wife. Toma would have no doubt entered when he had anyway, thus giving the warlock too little time to realize what was wrong with his mate. Then, with Cabe unsuspecting, the renegade would have struck from both sides.

He would have made Gwen Cabe’s murderer.

Cabe held his anger in check, realizing that the situation now required thought, not emotion. Aurim’s shield was still holding, but he did not have the experience to keep pace with his mother. Fortunately, it appeared as if the witch did not have the full use of her senses, else she would have gotten around her son’s defenses by now.

The warlock added his own power to the shield. Toma had expected the enchanted sorceress to catch both her son and her husband off guard. Under his spell, she was only a puppet, which meant that the knowledge and cunning of Lady Gwendolyn Bedlam was almost completely lost.

Engrossed as he was in trying to understand what had become of his wife, he barely sensed the black tentacles coming from behind him.

They darted toward him, but the warlock had already shifted position, materializing just a foot or two out of