Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

predictable and unpredictable. He had been certain that they would somehow seize control of the Quel’s domain. He had been fairly certain that they would have some success with the subterraneans’ mechanisms. What he had not been prepared for was the level of that success. The invaders already had a grasp of the abilities of Quel might. Given just a little more time, they would grow adept. A little more . . . and they would dare to confront him.

He should strike before they grew too strong. He should risk himself, for delaying the inevitable only made the later consequences worse.

How? How do I sssstrike? It mussst be effective but taking the least effort and concentration possible! There cannot be too much risssk. That might lead to . . . If only there had been time to rest. That would have changed everything. They would have been insects to crush beneath his huge paws.

The glittering leviathan twisted his neck around and sought among the treasures he had accumulated over time. Some were there because of simple value, some because of purpose. Carefully he scoured the vast pile. There were times when he had thought of organizing it again, storing it anew in the lower cavern chambers, but that would mean leaving the protection of his sanctum and doing so might prove the final, fatal blow.

Sssomething . . .

Then, to one side of the pile, almost separate from it, the Dragon King sighted the answer to his plea. It was not what he had wanted, not in the least, but the longer he stared at it the more the dread monarch knew it was his only choice. Massive, daggerlike talons gently picked up a small crystalline sphere in which it seemed a tiny, reddish green cloud floated. There was something unhealthy about the cloud, for the colors did not speak of life, but long and lingering decay. The sphere was no larger than a human head, which made it tiny indeed for one such as he, but he had learned care in using this gargantuan form, for even shifting to the manlike image his counterparts preferred was dangerous now. Each transformation distracted him, made him more vulnerable to . . . to the danger of losing himself. Now especially he dared not transform. It might be just enough, combined with his lack of rest, to defeat his long efforts.

He was careful for another reason. What the cloud represented could not be accidentally released full- fledged upon the world, not even for as short as a single blink of an eye.

But what of a tiny fragment of its evil? Might that do?

With the tenderness of a parent holding a newborn babe, the Dragon King brought the sphere to near eye level. A distorted image of his monstrous face glared back at him, but he forced himself to ignore it as he always did.

“Yessss, you could aid me. You could act where I cannot. You could blind them; lead them assstray. Perhaps you could even remove this blight on my kingdom.” The Dragon King laughed bitterly. “A blight to plague a blight. So very apt.”

He continued to contemplate the sphere. The cloud swirled, briefly revealing a hellish landscape. The crystal artifact was not a thing designed to contain but was rather a door of sorts . . . a door to a nightmare that the drake lord had lived with since almost the beginning.

“Nooo . . .” whispered the crystalline-skinned dragon. “Not yet. I mussst consssider thisss firssst . . . yet . . .” He twisted his head to one side and looked at the deadly cloud from another angle. “If only the decision were not mine anymore.”

Lowering his paw, the Dragon King summoned up the images of the raider camp. He stared long and hard at the army and its leaders, memories of another time and another invasion slowly seizing hold of him.

“Ssso very much alike they are,” he hissed. “Asss if the world hasss gone full circle.”

The malevolent cloud in his paw shifted violently, almost as if it were reacting to the words of the drake. The Crystal Dragon did not notice the change, caught up as he was in both the sights before him and the phantoms stirring anew in his mind. The scenes reflected in the multiple facets blended in with those phantoms, creating a myriad collection of twisted and misremembered pictures.

“Full circle,” the Crystal Dragon muttered again. “Asss if a door to the passst had opened up . . .” The gleaming eyes narrowed to little more than slits as the drake lord became further enmeshed in the visions. “A door open . . .”

In the sphere, a storm began to rage.

VIII

It was not until well into the day that Cabe and Darkhorse were finally able to shake off the effects of the mishap with the magical staff. They had dared not enter Legar in such condition and so the two of them had been forced to simply wait. Cabe used the time to first compose a carefully worded message to be sent by magic back to Gwen and the children and then to rest; Darkhorse chose to make use of the wait by constantly grousing about time ever wasted. It was not that the wait was not necessary. Even the demon steed knew better; he could simply not stop himself from complaining over and over again. The warlock knew deep down that what drove his companion to such impatience and bickering was the ebony stallion’s own knowledge that with nothing else to occupy his thoughts, the haunting memories of Shade would return. Darkhorse was seriously trying to free himself of his obsession, but it was a monumental task even for him.

Thinking of memories, Cabe could still not recall the night before without shuddering a little. Darkhorse often forgot that as mighty as his friend was, the warlock was still guided by human instincts and preconceptions. Plummeting earthward from such a height had nearly been too catastrophic an event for the mage’s heart. With his own skills in question, he had been forced to rely solely on the eternal. Even as good friends as they were, Cabe could not completely put himself into the care of a being who could never truly understand death as men did.

Fortunately, this time Darkhorse had known what he was doing. The shadow steed had landed hooves first on the ground, but the warlock had felt only the slightest of jolts. Such a landing would have shattered the legs of a real horse and killed both animal and rider instantly. Yet Darkhorse had ridden off into the nearby hills the moment he was certain that his passenger was secure and safe.

They now waited in the foothills of southern Esedi, the great western region that had once encompassed the domain of the Bronze Dragon. The kingdom of Gordag-Ai, Queen Erini’s birthplace, was actually a part of the northernmost reaches of Esedi. That was not why Cabe had chosen it for sanctuary, though. Rather, he had chosen the location because from where they were they could look down into the northeastern borderlands of Legar.

“It is late, Cabe! How much longer need we wait?”

“How do you feel now?” the spellcaster asked. He presently sat on one of the many rocky outcroppings dominating this hill. This part of Esedi was actually related to the hills of Legar although it lacked the heavy growth of crystal unique to the peninsula.

The dark-haired sorcerer had cause to question his companion’s condition. For him, it had been more than an hour since the last lingering effects had finally faded away. The eternal, however, had continued to suffer to some degree, enough to make Cabe hesitate to leave. Darkhorse, being, in essence, magical himself, had been affected much more severely.

In response, the dark stallion suddenly reared and struck out at one of the nearest formations with his hooves.

Fragments rained down upon them as the single blow pulverized the rock and sent it scattering.

“I am ready,” concluded the massive steed.

“Then let’s leave.” He rose and swiftly mounted. In truth, Cabe, too, was anxious to begin the final leg of the journey. He had not wanted to mention anything to Darkhorse, but during his rest he had been visited by yet another vision. It had not been as strong as the others, perhaps coming only as a reminder. Still, it had been vivid enough to make him fear that his delays, both accidental and intentional, had cost them precious time.

Unlike the others, this vision had consisted of only one scene and a short one at that. Cabe had stood in the middle of the rocky landscape of Legar, but not with Darkhorse. Instead, he had found himself facing an armored figure, a bearded man clad in the same dragonscale of the previous visions. The man was an adversary, but he