Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

me? You dare think yourssself a match for me becaussse you wear that color? Becaussse you wear a few sssuperficial markings that in no way determine your power or your cunning?”

Still holding the dragon at bay, Duke Toma reached down and seized the blade in his leg. With obvious strain, he plucked out the deadly toy. The renegade wobbled a little, but did not fall.

There was at last distance enough between the two dragons for Cabe to utilize his master spell. He stared directly at the knife and concentrated.

The knife flared white but was in no other way changed. In fact, the only other result of his attack was that Toma now turned to him. “And you, human! That you could ever think yourself my equal! That I have tolerated you for ssso long isss to laugh!”

Kyl took the brief moment of inattention to attempt a new and more daring assault, this time in the form of an attack on the ground around Toma’s feet. The golden dragon tore at the earth, obviously trying to undermine the renegade’s footing.

Pointing the blade toward Kyl, Toma muttered something under his breath.

Blue lightning turned the emperor-to-be into an azure inferno. Cabe watched in horror and stupefaction as Toma’s spell raised Kyl’s overwhelming form several feet above the ground and tossed him toward the far side of the vast cavern.

The huge, gleaming form crashed into the hard, rock surface of the chamber wall. Kyl’s shocked roar became, for a brief moment, an immense grunt of surprise and pain. The grunt was followed by another crash and then silence, as the dragon crumpled to the floor. As with Ursa, Kyl suddenly reverted to his more human form, a transformation that did little to improve his battered look. Unlike his sister, however, it was clear that the heir was not playing at unconsciousness.

The monster started toward Kyl. Toma called to it, but the beast paid him no mind. With its oversized head, the beast nudged the heir’s still body. When Kyl did not move, it squatted next to him and began once more its mournful howling.

“Your plans are crumbling, Toma,” taunted Cabe, a spell at the ready. He wanted the drake just a little farther away from the direction of the entrance. Valea had finally slipped past with Ursa’s floating body, but if the duke realized what was happening, he stood a good chance of taking the two women before the warlock would be able to stop him. “Just like they always do.”

“If there hasss been any fault in my plansss,” hissed the renegade, forgetting all else save the robed figure, “it isss because I have been naive enough to trussst the competence of others. In the end, I mussst always rely on myself.”

“Yourself?” Cabe took a step back and away from the entrance. To his relief, Toma matched his steps, unconsciously moving farther from where Valea had fled. “It was your incompetence that destroyed your plans. It was your incompetence that forced you to abandon the Manor mere days before your plot would have seen fruition.”

Reptilian eyes blazed within the false helm. Toma was finding it difficult to restrain himself. “That was the fault of trusssting children and bumbling fools!”

“Maybe, but who was it who was truly to blame for bringing down the Dragon Emperor in the first place? Who was it whose ambition pushed Gold to make the decisions he did?” The warlock straightened and stared Toma in the eye without blinking. “Who was it who secretly urged the kings Brown and Black to hunt down one lone human boy and kill him because of what his grandfather had been? If not for you, I might not be here to stop you now and, perhaps more important to you, Toma, Gold might never have fallen.”

“I will have your tongue, human!”

Cabe had drawn the power that he needed. There was but one more thing that he wanted to say, one more fact he wanted Toma to know, whatever the outcome. “You’ve always desired to be the shaper of the Dragonrealm, Toma, but have you ever considered that you already are? You’ve done more to make the land what it is today than almost anyone else. You brought down the Dragon Emperor, put the drake lords into disarray, and helped make humans and drakes equal.” Cabe Bedlam bowed humbly before the renegade, but his tone, he hoped, held just the proper level of ridicule. “For that, you deserve the thanks of all of us, especially me.”

“You arrogant little vermin!” Toma raised the knife toward Cabe. “You . . . human! I will have you ssstuffed and mounted! I will have you made the centerpiece of a collection of thossse who fell before my glory!”

The sinister dagger blazed.

Cabe released his counterspell just as Toma committed himself.

The warlock was buffeted by an incredible wave of sorcerous energy. He stumbled back and fell to one knee, but then the pressure eased, becoming less and less with each passing breath.

Toma did not understand at first, so caught up was he in the intended destruction of the mage. He did not comprehend until the blade began to shimmer in an odd fashion, alternating between a glow as bright as the sun and a blackness as dark as the night.

“What are you-” was all the renegade managed. Then, Duke Toma hissed in pain.

The dagger dropped from his hand. The palm of his hand was black and blistered.

The knife struck the cavern floor, but this time it did not bounce. In fact, it struck more with a splatter, for the blade was already half-melted.

“Nooo!” Reaching down with his good hand, the renegade attempted to retrieve what was left. He was too late. All that remained was the lower half of the handle, and that melted even as Toma tried to pick it up. The duke snarled and rubbed his fingers.

Around Cabe, it suddenly felt as if a vast barrier had been lifted . . . which, in truth, had happened. Against the power of the blade, Cabe’s options had been limited. Toma had worked his magics all too well in creating the knife. Not only had it helped the drake defeat Kyl, but it also still shielded Darkhorse from the knowledge of what had transpired in the cavern.

Cabe could have wasted his own strength fighting against the shielded walls, the knife, and Toma himself, but there could have been only one outcome to such an unbalanced struggle. Therefore, the sorcerer had instead concentrated on the blade and one of the weaknesses its very function forced upon it.

Only one power was certainly equal to the task of defeating Toma’s plaything. That was the power of the blade itself. It was a trick he had made good use of several times in the past. Cabe’s spell had not been an attack on the knife nor had it been a simple shield against the weapon’s might. What the warlock had instead cast was a conduit of sorts, a magical path that would turn the power of the blade to another purpose. Cabe had refocused the deadly force of the knife against the invisible barrier that cut off all communication between those in the cavern and those in the outside world.

The blade had worked against itself, feeding more and more of its power into the attack on Cabe, which was then turned on the barrier that it projected. In order to strengthen that barrier from the sudden attack, the magical dagger had been forced to further drain itself. Yet, it could not do so for long because Toma’s will continued to force more power into his battle against the apparently impervious shield of his warlock rival.

The result had been too much for Toma’s toy to handle.

He did not wait for the renegade to recover, attacking while the duke still clutched his injured hands. Crimson loops formed around Toma’s legs and torso and attempted to bind his arms together. However, the drake proved to be less disoriented than Cabe had hoped, for suddenly a green aura formed, an aura that proceeded to melt away the loops covering each arm. The aura spread over Duke Toma’s body, dissolving the loops as it touched them. Only when the last of the loops faded to nothing did the green glow dwindle away.

“You continue to pessster me like a flea biting at my flesh!” Toma held his hands palms forward so that Cabe could see them. A haze formed briefly over each palm. As it passed, the burns healed, until there was no sign of the injuries. The renegade hissed again, his forked tongue darting out once. “But that isss all you are, Cabe Bedlam! A flea! A flea!”

Duke Toma’s shape twisted. His form was quicksilver, fluid and changing. He began to expand, as if filling with air. Hands arched, becoming taloned paws. Arms and legs bent at angles that should have broken them. From the renegade’s back tremendous wings sprouted and with them a tail. The savage, leering dragon’s head