Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

Orril D’Marr obviously felt the earth collapsing, for he started to run toward his foe. Still suffering from the effects of his own toy, the Aramite stumbled and fell to his knees. He dropped the mace again and as he fumbled with the handle, trying to get a grip, the ground he knelt upon finally broke completely loose.

The last glimpse the Gryphon had of Orril D’Marr was the image of the wolf raider, his face composed one final time into that bland mask, raising the scepter to throw at his cursed enemy.

Then . . . there was only a cloud of thick dust as tons of rocky earth crumbled into the vast crater.

Demion . . . he managed to think. Demion . . . he is no more, my son. The monster is dead.

He settled back, willing to let oblivion take him, when a darkness covered him from head to foot. There was blissful silence and none of the oppressive heat of Legar. Too weak to wonder, the Gryphon merely accepted everything.

A stentorian voice broke the silence. “I . . . will protect you as . . . well as I can, Lord Gryphon! I cannot . . . promise you . . . but we may survive this yet!”

At the moment he did not care. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep for the first time in almost two days . . . and sleep well for the first time since his son’s death.

XVIII

No part of Legar was left untouched by the sound, yet just beyond the interior edge of the peninsula, the region of Esedi and the kingdom of Zuu in particular heard nothing. Those who might have been curious enough about the fog to attempt an excursion into Legar would find themselves turning away in great unease. Even the agents of Lord D’Farany who attempted to return to the camp could not find their courage. Instead, they scattered northward, suddenly certain that it would be wise never to return to the inhospitable land of Legar.

Within Legar, the spell of the Crystal Dragon did its work. The Quel, whose hearing was far more sensitive than that of most other creatures, including humans, fell to the ground hooting in dire agony. The wolf raiders were unable to take advantage of their misery, for they, too, suffered from the terrible, piercing noise. Several Aramites simply stumbled off of the edge of newly formed cliffs and plummeted into ravines and craters. A few of the Quel did the same, but the pain was so great most of the tawny behemoths simply crouched on the ground and tried to block out the sound. Tunneling into the earth was no escape, for the vibrations collapsed passages with the ease that a foot could crush an ant. The shells of the Quel were strong, but not that strong, and even if they survived, they could only hold their breath for so long. In truth, there was no escape.

Cabe, almost oblivious to the world, still struggled to hold the Aramite talisman together. Ssssoon . . . the Crystal Dragon had promised. Ssssoooon it will be at an end.

There was something strange and frightening happening to the mind linked to his, but Cabe had little opportunity to pursue the matter. All that was important was to keep the tooth from being destroyed . . . and keep himself from being destroyed while he was at it.

Around the camp, the Quel began to die. The sound shook their very being, destroying them through their ears. Enhanced by sorcery, it was an inescapable hunter, for there was nothing on the surface of Legar sufficient to dampen its intensity.

On and on and on it went. The fates of the Gryphon and Darkhorse concerned Cabe, but by this point he knew that nothing could be done if it had not been done already. The Crystal Dragon had not warned him of the enormity of what he was doing and for that Cabe was angry. Recriminations would have to come later, however.

That was providing that later actually came.

The first . . . ssstep isss complete! Now, the time hasss . . . come to . . . clossse forever the . . . portal!

“Ungh!” Cabe Bedlam’s entire body shook as the flow of power suddenly reversed itself. He had thought that the strain had been great before, but so awesome was it now that he almost lost control. For a single second, the talisman was beyond his ability to suppress. Then, just before it would have shattered, the warlock succeeded in regaining control. Sweat soaked his body. The pain in his arm was laughable in comparison to what wracked his system now. He was certain that he was going to die, yet somehow the weary mage held on.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the vibrations lessened. The sense of wrongness in the air, the sense of Nimth’s intrusion, weakened.

Almost . . . Cabe thought, trying to encourage himself. Almost!

A long, spindly hand tore the tooth from his grasp.

Jerked back into full consciousness, Cabe’s first reaction was to scream as pure sound invaded his mind. He clamped his hands over his ears, which did little to lessen the agony, and turned to see what had happened.

Plool, looking not at all affected by the spell, scampered merrily beyond Cabe’s reach. The macabre figure held the tooth high. His broad-rimmed hat was pushed back, revealing a V-shaped smile and bright, crystalline eyes that flashed in triumph. Whether he had simply stolen the talisman for the sake of his own survival or had thought that he could use it to turn the Dragonrealm into another Nimth, only the Vraad knew. Plool finally stopped, folded his legs underneath him, and, floating, tossed the tooth from one hand to the other.

Cabe knew he shouted, but not even he could hear his warning.

The Vraad lowered the talisman and his unsettling orbs narrowed in intense concentration. Tendrils of fog stretched toward him like children seeking their father. An aura formed around Plool. The thing in his hand glowed so bright it blinded.

The tooth exploded.

No longer held in check by either Cabe or the Dragon King, the power filling the talisman had at last stretched the boundaries of D’Farany’s toy beyond its limits. Possibly the Vraad had not completely understood the dangers of the spell when he had stolen the talisman from Cabe. The sorcery of Nimth did not always follow the same rules as the sorcery of the Dragonrealm; the warlock’s sparse knowledge of the other world included that bit of information at least. Unfortunately, such knowledge was too late to save the eager Plool.

Raw energy flowed over the Vraad and for a short instant, Plool resembled a deflating sack. So horrified was the warlock that he almost forgot the pain shaking him apart. Plool did not scream; he did not even appear to have time to notice his destruction. The madcap figure simply collapsed into an ungodly heap that, thankfully, dissipated immediately after. The spell that the Crystal Dragon had begun had been designed to absorb and make use of Nimthian magic. Perhaps Plool had literally been too much a creature of that foul sorcery.

With the Vraad gone, the realization of what Plool had done occurred to the pain-stricken mage. The talisman was gone and there was no way of completing the spell. There might not even be a way of dousing the horrendous noise.

WARLOCK! the voice burst through the noise. YOURRRR POWERRR I MUSSSST HAVVVE! WE ARRRE ALMOSSST THERE!

He did not argue. To tell the truth, Cabe did not have the strength to argue. At that moment, the Crystal Dragon could have had anything he wanted from him. Cabe only wanted the screaming to stop.

It did. Just like that. The fog burned away before his very eyes, returning the rule of day to the blazing sun. The ground ceased vibrating. It just stopped. All was as it had been before the coming of the wolf raiders . . . save that now there were new ravines and valleys all over the peninsula and bodies decorated the new landscape wherever one looked.

Cabe Bedlam crumpled to the ground, suddenly very much drained. He recalled the shouted plea for his power, his strength. The Dragon King had borrowed power through him to finish what they had begun, but he had almost used Cabe too much. To draw so much sorcerous energy into the warlock and through him use it had nearly burned Cabe out in the process. He was thrilled that they had finished the grand spell, but he truly wished that there had been another way.