Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

artifact. It was not glass after all, but crystal. There was also still something inside. The mage could not be certain, but it appeared to be more fog.

“This is how you came to be here?”

There was a hint of annoyance in the Vraad’s voice. “This is how I came to be here; I came to be here because of this. Do you want to ask again, Bedlam?”

“I’m sorry,” he quickly responded, “it just amazes me.”

Plool squatted. His legs seemed to be built for that. He now resembled the spider again or perhaps a spider and a frog combined. The round torso was so great in girth that it was a wonder the spindly legs could maintain such a balance, yet they did. “Came I through this little sphere, Bedlam, but the opening was much more vast. When I saw what had been the cause and it tried to fly away, I brought it down to this spot and with my might forced it to the ground. It stays there now until I deign to release it to its master.”

To its master . . . There was only one being that Cabe could think of who might have been responsible. Certainly not the wolf raiders. Now he was certain that it could only have been the Crystal Dragon.

But why? This seemed a strange defense for a leviathan who had turned the might of the Ice Dragon back. It was, for all its strength, a rather halfhearted and in most ways foolish sort of attack. Cabe was certain that he, in the Dragon King’s position, could have devised more than a score of countermeasures much more efficient and less haphazard than the unleashing of Nimthian decay. What happened if the deadly mist became permanent? Might it not also spread?

He sighed. Why was nothing ever simple? It was terrible enough that he had been forced to come here and seek out both the lord of Legar and the Aramites, but now he had the fog and a Vraad to deal with.

The Dragonrealm does like to play with us, doesn’t it?

Thinking of that, he suddenly had a wary thought. Plool would not know the lay of the land, but he might know enough about this region in general to answer a few questions. “Great Plool, are we far from where we first met?”

“Nothing is far away . . . but Nimth now.”

So perhaps the answers would not be forthcoming for now. Trust Plool to speak in riddles and poetry. Standing, Cabe studied what little he could see of the hill formation. The one thing he was certain of was that he was high in the sky. These hills were the closest Legar had to true mountains and only some arbitrary decision by ancient mapmakers had prevented them from falling into the other category. He could recall only one area in all the peninsula where such high hills were located. If his estimates were correct, and it was still quite possible they were not thanks to the concealing fog, then he was in a region very near the underground city of the Quel and the caverns where he suspected the Crystal Dragon’s clans made their home. That would also put him near enough to the shoreline of the peninsula, which meant that the wolf raiders, too, might be his neighbors.

This is not what I had in mind when I began this journey. He looked at Plool. Could he convince him to leave Legar? The hills of Esedi would be the most likely place to reunite with Darkhorse, although what the demon steed and the Vraad would do when faced with each other worried him. Darkhorse he was certain he could calm, but the madcap figure beside him was more unpredictable. He had clearly been responsible for separating the two.

Cabe saw no other choice. His best chances for putting a finish to all these matters lay in combining his skills with those of Darkhorse and Plool, the latter because of his ability to work and exist in the Nimthian mist. Cabe also wanted Darkhorse with him in order to keep a better eye on the Vraad. True, the ebony stallion was weakened by the very fog that Plool thrived in, but between the two of them they should be able to keep him in check. The warlock hoped it would not come to that, however. Plool was not evil, not exactly; his was simply a different world. He might be willing to help if only because he found the situation entertaining.

“Great Plool, there is another place we should go, a place where there is someone I hope to meet. I think you’ll find it a fascinating place, so alive with stability and so unchanging.” I begin to sound like him.

“The black beast. You hope to meet him.”

He had been careful not to mention Darkhorse, but Plool had made the connection regardless. “His name is Darkhorse. He means no harm to you.” I hope! “He is my friend and companion on this journey.”

Indignation. “I am Plool! I do not fear anything! I can create castles in the air! I can make monsters from mud!”

“I didn’t mean-”

The indignation vanished, to be replaced by curiosity. “But so much . . . unchanging . . . not even Nimth has created such!” The eyes blinked. “I will enjoy this world . . . yesss . . . I will come with you and see this place, talk to the hole, too. The hole I will talk to, this Darkhorse!”

“Good,” Cabe returned once he had pieced his way through the Vraad’s quick and confusing words. The warlock had no idea what he would do if Darkhorse was not there. Return to Legar with Plool, he supposed. Not to this location, however. Better to choose one of those he was vaguely familiar with from long ago. Plool appeared willing to listen to him, although who knew why, and with the Vraad to aid him he should be able to find a better place to materialize than here.

First, however, he had to find a way to get Plool to teleport the two of them to Esedi. The Vraad had been quite agreeable so far to teleporting them from one place to another. Maybe he would do so again. Cabe did not want to risk his own sorcery if he could avoid it, not here in this malevolent mist. “Master Plool, if you could be so kind-”

The eerie figure executed a bow, an act that, considering his shape, bordered on the absurd. “I am ever benevolent to those in need; to those in need benevolent I ever am.”

“My gratitude. First let me-”

Plool was already acting.

Cabe started toward him, hand out. “Wait!”

The familiar hilly and, thankfully, clear terrain of western Esedi manifested before him. Despite his not having described it to the Vraad, Plool had known where to go. He could have only done so by seizing the image from Cabe’s mind.

His relief at escaping the fog made the invasion of his thoughts almost secondary, at least for the time being. Cabe exhaled in relief and started to look for the other mage.

He heard a gasp of pain from a voice that could only be Plool’s, then the world around him began to spin. He struggled to maintain balance, but the force tugging at him was too strong.

Cabe was torn from the earth. Everything around him shimmered in an all too familiar way. There was a brief instant when he was surrounded by nothing. Pure nothing. The nothing was followed by a body-rending shock as the startled warlock was flattened against a rocky surface.

It was not enough to severely injure him, but it did leave him stunned and aching for several minutes. Eventually, he tried to see where he was, but his surroundings seemed but a blur no matter how many times he blinked.

No. Not a blur. As his head cleared, Cabe saw that it was not his vision that was at fault.

He was back in Legar. Back on the hill near where the sorcerer from Nimth had shown him the crystalline sphere.

What had happened to Plool? Cabe recalled the brief, agonized sound. He scanned the region, but his search was limited to a few yards at most in any one direction.

“Gngh!” A terrible force dragged him upward. His frantic thought was that the teleportation spell was still in effect, but then he ceased moving. Cabe simply hung where he was, his arms and legs mysteriously bereft of movement. There was an uncomfortable pressure around his chest that made it difficult to draw a breath.

“Bedlam, I do not like pain! Betray my faith, my goodwill! I have punished for less; much less have I punished for, Bedlam!”

“Ploo-ool?” Cabe managed to choke out.

The Vraad floated before him on a throne formed from the very mist. His round torso was tipped back so far that Plool had to practically peer over it. He was breathing hard and one hand shook. The maddening eyes were narrow in dark thought.