Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

he knew what was happening. This was no tremor, but a much more localized threat.

Another Quel had burst through the rocky soil. The Gryphon continued to back away . . . only to find the earth behind him sprouting into a new mound. He rolled aside just as a second Quel tore his way through to the surface.

All around the Aramite encampment, the same thing was happening. Mounds formed, became craters. Bursting forth from each of those craters was a Quel. Wherever there was a trail of dirt coursing through the wolf raiders’ camp, there sprouted the armored, hooting figure of one of the subterraneans. One by one and then a dozen by a dozen, they burrowed from the deep to the day. Many carried large war axes, but others were satisfied to use their claws. It mattered not where they rose, be it open ground or beneath a stack of weapons, the Quel came on and on and on. The Gryphon knew that there would be hundreds of them, hundreds of tawny, hulking behemoths whose sole intention was to rid themselves of the surface dwellers. Like an army of the unliving released by the Lords of the Undead, they kept coming.

The sleepers were not only awake; they were angry.

Few folk alive knew the full story, although the legend had spread across the Dragonrealm. Once, before the Dragon Kings and before the Seekers, the land had been ruled by the Quel. Their race had prospered for a time, but like so many others preceding them, the armadillolike creatures had watched their empire decay. The avian Seekers became dominant.

The Seekers and their immediate predecessors shared one common trait. They could not accept a rival for power. The bird folk sought to eliminate the last bastion of Quel domination, the peninsula. What the Seekers did instead, however, was unleash a spell so terrible that not only did it nearly succeed in driving the Quel to extinction but also the avians. The bird folk retired to what few rookeries remained to them and tried to rebuild their depleted population. They would never succeed in raising the numbers, for many of their females would die.

As for the Quel, they sought a different solution to the disaster. Their already inhospitable land ravaged and the neighboring regions little better, the survivors devised a plan by which the race, through high sorcery, would slumber until the day would come when they could reclaim their realm. The notion had been suggested even before all the destruction, but the Seekers’ monstrous spell made its casting a necessity.

So the Quel race, excluding the sorcerers who had devised the spell, gathered into one of the largest of the underground chambers. The sorcerers and their apprentices would remain awake long enough to complete the grand spell and train successors, for there had to always be a handful to monitor events, keep the sleepers safe, and know how to awaken them when the glorious day came.

Something went terribly wrong, however, and those who knew how the spell worked perished in the process of casting it. It did put the race to sleep, but the secret of awakening them was lost. One other part did succeed; for each Quel who died, a successor was brought back to waking. There would be guardians, watchers, but none who understood what had happened. Over the centuries, the Gryphon knew, the Quel tried an endless variety of methods to bring their race back to life. They had never found success.

Until today.

Trust Nimth and the wolf raiders to wake something as unsavory as the Quel race! he thought. What would happen to the Dragonrealm with the Quel awake, the lionbird could not say. In his opinion, it could only be ill. He doubted that their long slumber had taught the overgrown armadillos the concept of sharing their world.

Around the Gryphon’s vicinity alone more than a dozen Quel had already risen. He looked for Cabe but did not see the warlock. That was not too surprising. The Gryphon had been thrown back several yards. It was a credit to the lionbird’s astonishing constitution that he was able to rise relatively unharmed, albeit more than a little dazed, by his flight and landing. Much to his dismay, though, the same Quel who had knocked him aside desired to change his good fortune. Heavy, taloned paws reached out for him.

He ducked and called out Cabe’s name, fearful that his companion was unconscious or worse. There was no response. The rising din made it impossible to hear any one voice unless the speaker was within a few feet. He gave up just as the monster attacked again, this time slashing down with his fearsome claws. Again, the Gryphon evaded him, but barely.

There were more sounds of battle. The wolf raiders had recovered in swift fashion. Years of war had no doubt made the wolf raiders well practiced in everything. They should thank me.

He dodged yet another swipe from the leviathan’s paws, all the while searching for something with which to combat the Quel. His reach was nothing near that of his adversary, so hand-to-hand was an option that the Gryphon wanted to reserve for last.

The lionbird found his weapon in the form of a pole tangled in the remains of a tent someone had been dismantling. He gazed at the deadly top of the staff with grim satisfaction. Only the Aramites would make tent poles with pointed tips at the end. Better still, the makeshift lance was made of good hardwood. Metal would have been best, but the Gryphon was not about to argue. He freed the pole, swung it around, and immediately jabbed at the Quel. This time, it was the beastman who backed away.

Taking advantage, he pressed the attack. The Quel hooted and took a defensive swipe at the wooden shaft.

It snapped in half.

Seizing the initiative, the massive creature stalked toward the Gryphon, all confidence now. Glancing around, the lionbird saw that there was no other object that he might use in place of the shattered pole. It was the lance or nothing.

In his long, bloody history, he had killed with much less.

The lionbird lunged. Surprised by the short figure’s temerity, the Quel left himself open. The Gryphon, well aware of the weaknesses of the race, aimed for the not-so-armored neck.

Backed by his momentum, the jagged end of the pole went into the tender throat and up into the back of the head. The Quel squealed mournfully and struggled with the staff, but the wound was mortal. Wheezing and with blood flowing down over his torso, the digger finally slumped forward. The Gryphon barely had time to leap out of the way before several hundred pounds of dead behemoth crashed to the ground.

The behemoth’s fall put an end to any other use of the pole, for the weight of the monster was enough to crush the staff into several small, meaningless pieces.

Only when his own battle was over did the Gryphon truly notice the growing intensity of the war around him. Men screamed or shouted or did both. The pain-wracked hoot of a Quel now and then pierced through the other noise. There was the constant clash of arms and orders cried out by the wolf raiders’ officers. Above, he heard the roll of thunder, which would have made him believe it was going to rain, save that the rumbling never ended, just went on and on and on. Now and then, there was green lightning.

The earth began to shake again. From the severity of the new tremor, the lionbird knew that the end was very near. The Quel’s world must already be a maelstrom of destruction!

Which is why they have come to the surface fighting, replied a chilling, vaguely familiar voice in his head.

I know you! The Gryphon’s eyes widened. His mouth went dry. He still recalled the details of the battle against the Ice Dragon.

Then you know that I may be an ally.

Cabe said-

The voice became defensive. I have changed my mind. I will aid your efforts.

“Because the Crystal Dragon’s own domain is also at risk?” the Gryphon could not help asking out loud.

The lord of Legar did not reply to the question. Instead, he acted as if all were settled. You may rest easy where Cabe Bedlam is concerned. The warlock will know his part to play in this. If all goes well, all will be ssssettled before long!

The Gryphon did not miss the sibilance toward the end. He recalled Cabe mentioning the Dragon King’s struggle with sanity, but was careful to shield the thought from the drake lord. At the moment he was willing to accept almost any help, even that from a mad creature like the Dragon King.

What do you want of me?

You must free the demon steed. I will show you how the dogs’ toy can be removed.