Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

nearly slain himself.

Shade laughed. “The work of the Storm Lord, I will admit, young Aurim. A so-clever god, wouldn’t you say? But too clever for himself, in the end.” The warlock touched the crystal and Aurim felt a sudden heat wash over him. “And that will end any other spells from you whatsoever.” He turned toward a passage to his left. In the voice that passed for the Storm Lord’s, he commanded, “Come!”

From the corridor rushed in several drake warriors, the servitor Ssssurak at their head.

“My lord,” he murmured, bowing low to Shade. “Forgive us! We waited for your summons-”

“We are not interested in your excuses,” the warlock replied. None of the drakes appeared to notice the gargantuan form to their side. In their eyes and ears, Shade was the Storm Dragon. “Secure them. I will deal with both at my leisure.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Aurim thought of telling the drakes that they were being manipulated, but he knew that they would never believe him. As the towering warriors surrounded them, the wizard prepared to fight them with his hands. He knew that once they were bound, they would have no hope of escape.

Ssssurak hissed in derision as Aurim prepared his futile stand. Shade, attention fixed on the onyx crystal, paid the spellcaster no mind. He seemed to be searching for something within.

The foremost warrior reached for Aurim. The wizard raised his fist.

And then a voice in Aurim’s head said, Do nothing.

IX

They were dead and their deaths verified to Gwen her suspicions. The victor had no sooner triumphed then he, in turn, had been horribly slain. True, it could have been the work of the Storm Lord, but the enchantress was instead certain that Shade had died at the hands of none other than himself.

And moments later, she had had her worst fears verified by her link to Aurim. Gwen had heard everything he had heard, felt every anxiety. They had all been fooled by this other version of the warlock, who clearly had chosen the path of darkness to follow.

Now Aurim and Yssa were prisoners and Gwen, despite the opportunity to catch her breath, hardly had the might to take on the shadowy warlock.

But she had to.

Summoning her strength, she rose. The spell used to protect her from the battle faded away. Gwen steeled herself, then tried to concentrate on her son.

Her legs gave out. She toppled over.

Hands caught her. A voice in her ears whispered, “I have you. Tell your son to do nothing.”

“But-”

“Do nothing, I said . . . if you want him to live.”

She did as she was bade, relaying the short message. When she had done so, the enchantress looked up at her rescuer.

“Now,” said Shade, his murky features possibly smiling slightly. “What would make the Storm Lord so angry that he would wake up?”

The fearsome tempest spread across the entire continent, drowning the Dragonrealm. It spread west, across the Seas of Andramacus, and east, reaching the former empire of the Aramites.

And all of it was the Storm Dragon, power incarnate, a living god.

Lightning struck a thousand times in a thousand places. The puny mortal creatures inhabiting the lands scurried in fear or knelt down in prayer to him. Even the other Dragon Kings bent their massive heads low, stretched forth their necks . . . all to prove their loyalty.

The world belonged to him and rightly so. His magnificence spread over the heavens. He was the world . . .

But something suddenly disturbed his pleasure. It started as a tiny nagging sound in his ears, a buzzing like a fly. Gradually it became a voice, a taunting voice.

The Storm Lord! So distracted by his visions of grandeur, of omnipotence, that he fell prey to a simple spell any apprentice could have cast! I caught him slumbering, dreaming of his perfection . . . and I simply made that dream go on and on and on . . .

What feeble creature dared speak so about he who moved the skies at will? In the blink of an eye, the Storm Dragon searched the world over, but failed to find the blasphemer.

A so-clever god, wouldn’t you say? But too clever for himself, in the end.

Someone mocked him and he could not find the culprit. The Storm Dragon flew into a rage. Hurricanes swept over Irillian by the Sea, inundating the realm of the Blue Dragon. Floodwaters poured into the bowl-shaped region housing the kingdom of Zuu, sweeping away its inhabitants. Lightning ripped into Penacles, City of Knowledge, turning the kingdom of the Gryphon into one huge fire . . .

But all this brought the Dragon King no closer to discovering the heretic.

Determined to find him, the behemoth drew within him his power. Raging tempests all over the Dragonrealm dissipated instantly. The Storm Lord focused all his omnipotent will on the one task; he would find the knave.

Oddly, the more he withdrew into himself, the more it seemed that the cause of his fury lay in his own mind. He almost shook off the absurd notion, but again the voice taunted him.

See how he sleeps? A puppet with his own puppet world, playing the game I desire . . .

Fueled yet again by the sacrilegious words, the Dragon King confronted some barrier in his own thoughts. Whoever spoke out against their god thought to shield themselves from his wrath! With a silent roar, the Storm Lord threw his full ferocity at the invisible barrier within-

And woke up.

He no longer hovered over the world, as much a part of the heavens as the clouds or sun. Instead, he lay cramped in the back of one of his personal chambers and the worse part of it was that other, lesser creatures invaded the sanctity of his domain. The Storm Lord had every intention of punishing all of them for their audacity- until he heard again the voice he had already grown to hate.

“You may take them away, now.” It belonged to a tiny, cloth-covered figure that stirred some vague memory. The Dragon King did not bother to delve into that memory, for his entire mind suddenly fixated on the fact that, not only was this the one who mocked him, but now that very same creature pretended to be him.

No greater offense could there be in the history of the world.

The Storm Lord let out a roar of outrage-

The Dragon King’s fury rocked the entire cavern complex, sending bits of the ceiling dropping on those below. Yssa pulled Aurim back as one large piece struck the floor just where the wizard had been standing.

The drakes stumbled away, startled more by the monstrous, unexpected roar than the collapsing ceiling. Ssssurak looked around in open panic-and was the first to see the awakening behemoth.

“M-my lord?” he blurted, looking from the Storm Dragon to Shade and back again.

“Blasphemy!” roared the scaly tyrant, ignoring his confused servants. All that existed for him was the one who had dared the unthinkable. “You will be punished for this sacrilege, mortal!”

The onyx stone crackled with energy. A monstrous wind assailed not only Shade, but everyone near him. Huge drake warriors flew against the walls. Ssssurak clutched at Aurim, but the wind took him before he could grab hold. He struck the rock face with a harsh crack, then tumbled to the ground.

Aurim expected both him and Yssa to be tossed after the drakes, but an emerald shield surrounded them, reducing the Storm Lord’s fury to a slight breeze. He looked in surprise at Yssa, whose face was filled with strain. The wizard realized that, despite the warlock’s spell, her mixed heritage had enabled her to do what Aurim could