Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

The pandemonium at the stable had drawn both natives and visitors and even several minutes after the escape by the unknown rider, many of the spectators were still milling around trying to piece together the story.

The mages, looking disgruntled, perplexed, and dismayed, quickly departed the scene, none of them uttering so much as a single word. Some of the guards, however, were more vocal, the common folk of Zuu liking to tell or hear a good story whenever possible. Soon, a very distorted version of what had happened spread among the populace. There had been a score of riders. A band of spellcasters had been using the stable for their rituals. The king’s mages had been practicing, but something had gone wrong and they had summoned a demon out of the ether.

None of the stories was correct, but a careful listener who wandered about could piece together much from what was said, almost enough to re-create the true event.

To a spy clad in the stolen clothing of a murdered merchant, such a thing was child’s play.

VII

They had lost two men in the tunnels during the night. Two men suspiciously close to the chamber where Lord D’Farany and the blue devil worked to decipher the monsters’ secrets. Two men too many as far as Orril D’Marr was concerned. There was something special about the chamber, something other than the obvious, and he was the only one who suspected the truth. D’Marr was certain that the deaths had to do with a passage that was not there . . . at least not now.

It did not help that he was certain the beasts he held prisoner were laughing at him. Even when he questioned them, put them to the scepter, they seemed to be laughing. There was some great riddle that only they knew the answer to and they were not talking. He had come close to killing one, but for some reason the almost eager look in the beast’s eyes had made him draw back.

Lord D’Farany would not hear his suspicions and the damned blue man merely gave him a smug smile each time. If there was a problem, Lord D’Farany had said, then it was up to D’Marr to deal with it. That was his function, after all.

I will deal with it, oh, yes . . . Each time his master descended into the tunnel, the Quel seemed to grow expectant. Each time he returned, they grew morose. The young officer had first thought that they were expecting an attack on the leader of their enemies, but then he saw that his assumption was wrong. The armored beasts wanted him to go to the chamber . . . but why?

To discover that reason, he had decided to drag one of the overgrown armadillos to the chamber and try a few tests.

Neither Lord D’Farany nor the northerner was in the chamber. That was as he had planned it. The only ones that D’Marr wanted here were the few men he needed to keep the Quel under control. This was his moment.

“Bring him forward so that he can see what I do.”

The soldiers dragged the wary beast toward the center of the room. D’Marr removed the scepter from his belt and walked slowly over to his captive. Some of the wariness in those inhuman eyes faded. The Quel had almost become used to the magical rod. It was an enemy that the prisoners understood.

The young officer touched the tip of the scepter against the underside of the Quel’s snout. As he had expected, the creature flinched. D’Marr smiled ever so briefly at the puzzlement he could read in the other’s eyes. There had been no pain. D’Marr had not activated his toy.

“I know you can understand me, so listen well. There are two things you should note, my ugly beastie.” He kept the tip of the scepter no more than a few inches from the Quel’s eyes, now and then swinging it back and forth so as to keep the prisoner off-guard. “The first is that you should never think of me as predictable.” He tapped the rod against the Quel’s snout, this time giving him but the least of the pain levels.

He had the creature’s attention now. D’Marr backed up and began to walk about the chamber. He continued to talk as he played at studying its interior. “The second item you should be aware of is that I have not bothered with the speech stone this time. Your answers would only be repetitive. Also, what I need to know from you now does not require words or images.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the look of cautious curiosity that had spread across that monstrous visage. D’Marr put a hand on the crystalline device. He sensed the Quel flinch almost as much as when he had put the scepter to the subterranean’s head.

The Aramite officer brought the weapon dangerously close to the crystals aligned on the top of the alien creation. Then, as if unaware of both what he had nearly done and the Quel’s reaction, D’Marr stepped away. He walked to the far end of the chamber and started pacing the outer edge, occasionally tapping the wall with his staff as he went. The Quel’s eyes never left him.

“There are things you are hiding from us, beast.” Tap. “I have been trying to be reasonable about this.” Tap. “You must understand, my lord’s becoming impatient.” Tap. “And now your fellow monsters have taken two of our men.” Orril D’Marr stopped and turned to face the captive. “Two men very near to this place. Two men, who might have seen . . . what?”

Still facing the Quel, he snapped his arm back and struck the wall beside him soundly with the top of the scepter.

The armored leviathan gave a muffled hoot and tried to leap forward despite being bound. His guards dragged him back, although it took some effort to do so. D’Marr allowed himself a rare full, satisfied smile as he watched the Quel’s unsuccessful struggle. Noticing his tormentor’s own reaction, a look that might have been equivalent to human consternation crossed the inhuman features.

“Thank you.” The wolf raider glanced at the mace. Despite its somewhat fragile appearance, it was very sturdy. The head was not at all chipped. When his predecessor had had it created, he had wanted a weapon that could be used in combat as well. D’Marr was thankful for his forethought. It would take much to even scar the scepter.

He turned to inspect the area that he had struck. It was the same region where, on the first day, he had thought that he had seen another chamber or tunnel. That day, D’Marr had inspected the area and found only solid wall, but he had been nagged ever since by doubt. He was not one to imagine such things. Now, thanks to the Quel’s violent and unthinking response, D’Marr was certain that there was indeed a chamber or passage hidden behind the glittering facade.

Even had the Quel not responded as he had expected, there would have been proof of a sort to back his suspicions. Each time he had brought the baton against the glittering wall, he had left a tiny trail of cracked crystal and rock behind him. Yet, despite utilizing the full strength of his arm, his last strike had not left so much as a single scratch in the surface of this section of the wall. It might be that he had happened to strike an area of exceptionally resilient crystal, but D’Marr doubted that. No, there was something special about this particular bit of wall.

The raider officer turned away from the others and ran his hand over the suspect area, as he had done the first day. There was no sign of a break. There was nothing that might betray the falseness of the wall. “Nonetheless,” he whispered, “I shall have to tear you down. Stone by stone, if necessary.”

“To do that, Orril, would be a most distressing thing to me.”

He spun around. “My lord?”

As the officer fell to his knees, the Pack Leader slowly entered the chamber. He was accompanied by the blue man and his personal guard. Standing in the tunnel, just beyond the entrance, was what appeared to be a full squadron. Lord D’Farany looked about the chamber, his expression that of a man who is home at last. “You know nothing of the work of sorcery, Orril. Of the intricate matrices that must sometimes be arranged. Of the nuances of concentration, so simple in theory but perplexing in practice.” D’Farany stroked the side edge of the Quel artifact. His eyes fixed on a location above D’Marr’s head. “Of the care one must take. . . . If you understood such things, you would certainly realize what permanently damaging the integrity of this room might do to my prize.”