Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

Again, a taloned paw rose.

The steps around and beneath Cabe Bedlam sizzled. Bolts of blue lightning rose from the rock and assailed the warlock. They were not like ordinary lightning, for each one that assailed him remained attached like a parasite, drawing his power away and nearly forcing him to his knees.

“You are mine, warlock!” Toma the dragon roared his delight.

Gwendolyn, Valea, Aurim, Darkhorse, the Gryphon . . . all the faces formed before Cabe. They and others looked to him, called to him. Whether it was true or not, the warlock again felt that if he gave in to Toma, he would open the way for all their deaths at the renegade’s claw.

The warlock fought the lightning, even managing another step up. Toma’s cries of triumph faded as he eyed with disbelief the continued existence of his tiny bane.

Cabe drew everything he had into one last effort, aware that by doing so he might kill himself where Toma had so far failed. He met, for what he hoped was the last time, the eyes of the renegade. Cabe tried to imagine the faces of all those close to him whom Toma had already killed. Even Grath, despite the young drake’s secret allegiance. Grath had saved Cabe and Valea from the duke’s black blade.

“From the beginning,” he called to the sinister behemoth, “you’ve desired that it be you and you alone who sat on the throne as Dragon Emperor.”

“It should have been mine! I was the most worthy! I, Toma! ”

Cabe ignored the outburst. “I can’t make you emperor, Toma, but the least I can do . . . is give you the throne.”

The attack that Cabe had prepared was fueled as much by his own life force as it was by the sorcerous power at his command. He reached forward with his right hand and pointed at where he knew the dragon’s heart to be. So ensnared was he by his own spell that he no longer even noticed Toma’s own withered assault.

His last view before his bolt hit Toma in the chest was the dragon’s absolute refusal to accept what was happening.

Toma’s shield was nothing to Cabe’s spell. Neither was the thick, tough, scaled hide of the deadly leviathan. The bolt burned through all, piercing the dragon completely through and not dissipating until it struck the wall far behind him.

The dragon stiffened, transfixed by the lethal assault. Toma’s massive form shivered as Cabe continued to pour his life into the effort.

“Fall, damn you!” he cried, unconsciously mimicking Toma from but a few moments before. “Why don’t you fall?”

Toma did.

With a last, pain-wracked roar, the renegade dragon fell back upon the very object he had so long desired to control. Toma’s huge body was too much for the throne, and as he fell upon it, the throne crumbled under his weight. The drake’s head swung back in a horrible arc and smashed against the rock wall to one side of the dais. A burst of fire shot briefly ceilingward as Toma exhaled.

Cabe did not move. He could not believe that, after all this time, Toma was defeated. Surely, the warlock thought, there must be some last trick.

There was none. Even as he watched, the dragon twitched feebly once or twice. The head slowly came round so that Toma could see Cabe, but the renegade’s eyes were already clouding. Even still, Toma attempted one last sneer.

It was the expression that would remain frozen on his face as he died.

Cabe Bedlam crumpled on the steps, the knowledge that Toma was dead finally giving him release. He struggled to remain conscious, but the effort of his victory had drained him too much. His eyes closed. He forced them open again, only to find an anxious Gwen peering down at him, a vision which made no sense since not only was his wife not here but he would have had to have been lying on his back to see her so. Clearly, the haggard mage thought not so clearly, he had worn himself so thoroughly that he was suffering delusions.

Then the delusion told him to go back to sleep and Cabe, knowing that he could fight the darkness no longer, finally gave in.

XXII

“Are you feeling better?” asked Gwendolyn.

Cabe lowered his cup and peered at his wife from the bed. She looked concerned, as she had since he had first been carried back to the Manor from Kivan Grath, but she also looked preoccupied with something else.

“Better than yesterday. Better than the two weeks I don’t remember.”

His last, fairly clear memory before waking in his bed but two days ago had been of his wife leaning over him, fear dominating her expression. It had not been a delusion, as he had thought, but rather a brief awakening just after Darkhorse had brought him to the Manor. The shadow steed had returned to the cavern the moment that he had assured the safety of Kyl, Valea, and Ursa.

The eternal had joyfully greeted his human friend yesterday, ecstatic to discover that the warlock had finally recovered. No one knew exactly what had happened to Cabe, only that he had hung between life and death for two weeks, then abruptly recovered almost completely.

Darkhorse had described the surprise with which he had viewed the cavern upon his return. He had expected a battle of epic proportions still raging, only to find the dragon Toma dead on the dais, maw still curved in what seemed a cruel smile, and Cabe sprawled on the steps. At first, the shadow steed had feared that his friend had died alongside the devilish drake, but then he had noted the thin thread of life remaining.

“Praise be that it was not yet time for you to journey down the Final Path!” the stallion had rumbled yesterday. Darkhorse, too, had recovered. He had recovered so much, in fact, that he had made the rare transformation and given himself a pair of long, tentaclelike arms with which to hug the weary mage.

Everyone had come to give Cabe their best and express their pleasure at his survival . . . everyone except one young drake. Even Ursa had come, although when Cabe had pressed her about Kyl, the female drake had quickly excused herself.

No one would even tell him what had happened to the meeting with the Blue Dragon. It had, of course, not taken place due to Kyl’s own injuries. The heir, however, had suffered much less than Cabe and had recovered some days ago.

After Kyl’s heroism in the cavern, Cabe had not wanted to think ill of the emperor-to-be, but again doubts crept into his mind. Kyl had looked willing to join forces with Toma when it had seemed the renegade would win.

Toma. The Manor had been trying to warn them in its own way about the truth concerning Toma and Traske. The warlock knew that now. He wondered if the other images had any such meaning. He also wondered just how sentient the Manor was. More than Cabe had ever imagined? It would bear looking into once things calmed down.

“Do you want anything to eat?” asked Gwendolyn, stirring her husband from his thoughts.

“No, Mistress Belima’s lunch should do fine for the next few days.” The cook had been so gratified by the mage’s recovery that she had made him a bit of just about every specialty she knew. Of course, with Mistress Belima, that was almost everything. Cabe’s lunch could have easily served the army of Penacles. Despite all he had eaten-and his days of sleep had made him ravenous-he had hardly even made a dent in the vast meal. Gwen had used her power on Cabe, but that had only allowed him to survive. He looked forward to digging further into the pile of food later, but now he could only dream of eating.

“Then, do you think you can handle another visitor?”

“Another one? The Gryphon’s been here despite now officially being recrowned monarch of Penacles. Troia couldn’t make it because of the nearing birth and the somewhat abbreviated coronation ceremony. Erini and Lynnette paid a visit yesterday . . . at the same time Darkhorse showed up, of course.” It had not been surprising to find the trio depart at the same time. This way, Erini could visit with all of her friends without Melicard becoming disgruntled at the shadow steed’s presence. Melicard could never seem to make up his mind about Darkhorse. At