Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

that a wavering, would-be ruler would waver the wrong direction or that my foes might come to this very sssanctum! How simple, alssso, to plan ahead, come here, and leave a few sssurprises. You will not be leaving.”

Darkhorse! Cabe called in his mind. Darkhorse! I need you!

His silent cry could not go beyond the cavern walls.

“You are alone. Cut off,” Toma informed him needlessly.

“What do you hope to gain by this? You’ve lost everything already, Toma! Kyl’s offered you a fair judgment. It’s the best you can do now.”

“Not quite.” The renegade held up the knife. At first it appeared that he was going to throw it, but then Toma did a strange thing. He took the dark blade by the grip and replaced it in his belt. “There will be a terrible battle in here, yesss. Alas, only one will sssurvive. Toma will have killed the daughter of Cabe Bedlam, but the warlock and his arch foe will die together in a blaze of power that will leave few remains. Caught up in that sorcerous conflagration will also be the perhapsss not ssso trustworthy heir to the throne and the female called Ursa. Only one will sssurvive, a young lad who hasss alwaysss been more of a favorite to some of the Dragon Kingsss than his own brother.”

“What are you babbling about?” hissed Kyl. “What sssort of fanciful ssstory isss that? You have-”

The dragon heir swallowed the rest of his words as a horrific transformation took place. Toma melted, growing smaller. The massive dragonhelm crest shriveled to nothing and the helm itself pulled away. A handsome, almost human face took the place of the broad, flat visage of Toma.

Moments later, where the drake duke had been, Grath now stood. In every way, in every movement, Cabe would have sworn that it was Kyl’s brother and not the renegade.

“Did I do well, Master Bedlam?” asked Toma in Grath’s voice. An uncharacteristic sneer crossed the golden-green features. “I contemplated a masquerade like this in the beginning, but there were many reasonsss why the other path wasss better.” Toma/Grath tilted his head to one side and gave the others an innocent look. “Still, I think that I can easily fool those great drake lords. I have done so before. I’m sure that Lords Green or Blue will even give me sssanctuary when I tell them that I do not trussst my safety at the Manor. For obvious reasssons, of course.”

The knife gave him the power to create such a thorough masquerade. Cabe knew now that there had been a Benjin Traske at one time and that Toma had killed him as he had killed so many before. His present plan had merit, too, for none of the Dragon Kings, not even the Green Dragon, knew Grath well enough to see the difference. Toma had probably studied everyone of importance living in the Manor, all the better to know his enemies. The warlock was certain that, given the opportunity, Toma’s new form would fool the drakes. How the duke planned to rule through illusion for possibly the next few centuries, Cabe did not know. What he did know, however, was that if there was one creature capable of succeeding in such madness, it was Toma.

There was still one question, though. . . .

As if reading his mind, which for Toma might be possible, the false Grath added, “And surely you mussst be wondering how I plan to make all of thisss work.”

Toma blinked once. It was, to Cabe’s eyes, a very deliberate blink. Cabe felt a mild tug of the surrounding powers and recalled when the duke had earlier done the same thing.

A signal. He’s summoned someone . . . someone inside!

A peculiar, almost mournful howl echoed through the chamber from within the deeper parts of the cavern system. By the echo, whatever had made the cry was not far. A second wail indicated that it was drawing nearer at an incredible pace.

“What in the name of the Dragon of the Depthsss isss that?” whispered Kyl, so stunned he had temporarily forgotten his rage.

Toma/Grath smiled. It was a smile that told Cabe he should recognize the sound.

The warlock did. It was a cry that he had not heard since a day years ago when he and Gwendolyn had fought a frenzied Gold Dragon. It was the call of a monstrosity, a thing that should not have survived its time in the hatcheries of the drakes but somehow had. Only through a combined effort had it been defeated last time, to go fleeing deep into the vast underground system. Cabe had hoped that it had died there.

A misshapen form lumbered out of the tunnels and into the throne room of the Dragon Emperor. It caught sight of the warlock, and there and then Cabe knew that, as he had remembered it, so had the beast remembered him.

The monster started toward him, jaws wide.

XXI

Darkhorse paced, and as he did, he eyed the two great dragons guarding the entrance into Kivan Grath. They returned his gaze with steady ones of their own. He knew that this pair would not be stared down, however much that would have been preferable to the other choice. If it came to battle, the eternal was certain that he would be victorious, but any combat would leave him even weaker than he was now. Darkhorse had not yet had the time to recover from his imprisonment; whatever his captors had done with him while he had been a victim of the box had sapped much of his strength.

He did not want to endanger his friends. Better he remain here and do nothing than become a detriment during a possible duel with foul Toma.

What made the situation more worrisome was the silence that greeted Darkhorse every time he attempted to reach Cabe. He was aware that the sanctum of the Dragon Emperor likely had spells that kept whatever was said within a secret, but both dragons had received commands from someone inside. That meant that it was possible to forge a link with Cabe. Certainly, his human friend had intended to send him word of the conditions of Toma’s captives. The warlock knew how much Darkhorse cared for his children; there should have been some word. He was certain of it.

Had there already been a battle? Had Cabe been prevented from summoning him?

Darkhorse ceased his pacing and turned to confront the two mammoth guardians. The dragons studied him with wary eyes.

He tried to look his most impressive. “I must know what is happening in there.”

Their responses were the same. Both dragons hissed and readied their claws. The eternal felt each guardian draw power in possible preparation of a magical assault.

Darkhorse gouged a ravine in the rocky soil beneath him. His pupilless eyes glittered. “Yes, I did not think you would like that statement.”

“You will have to passs usss to gain entrance, demon sssteed!” snarled the one Cabe had identified as Faras.

Sighing, the shadow steed started toward them at a trot. He tried to ignore the vast reservoirs of power the two behemoths were gathering. Between the two of them, they did have sufficient ability to end his existence. He told himself that he would just have to learn to ignore that particularly unsavory fact. Otherwise, thinking about it might be the death of him. “I still have hope that you might reconsider the necessity of that. . . .”

“ HALT!”

At the sound of Duke Toma’s voice, the monstrosity paused. It looked, absurd as the image was, like a puppy that had just been forbidden its favorite chewing bone. As he was to have been that bone, Cabe appreciated the reprieve, but the warlock also knew very well that the drake had not protected him out of any sudden change of heart.

Duke Toma, again resembling himself, looked from the creature to his adversary. “I think he remembers you, Master Bedlam!”

“Father!” whispered a horrified Valea. “What is that?”