Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol III Part 69
Yssa . . .
He tried to struggle free. "Where is she? What did you do with her?"
Suddenly he found himself falling. Aurim acted as best he could to strengthen his dying spell. Despite that, he still hit the ground with a harsh thud. Every bone in his body shook and vertigo nearly made the hapless spellcaster pa.s.s out.
And where a moment before he had only been able see a few feet around him, now Aurim's surroundings blazed with light. He had to blink rapidly several times before his eyes adjusted and even then he was not at first certain at exactly what he stared.
It resembled nothing more than an empty cloak and hood set by someone to loom over him. There was the outline of shoulders, yes, but Aurim could see nothing within the low-hanging hood or the rest of the earth-sweeping garment. Yet, something lurked within, that his higher senses could tell, but whether it was human or otherwise was still an enigma.
Then, from the shadowy depths of the hood came the voice he had heard so many times. "The armored ones took the female."
"The Storm Dragon's warriors have her?" Aurim vaguely recalled something of the struggle and how one soldier had used a curious device to render his love unconscious.
"If the armored ones are the the warriors of this Storm Dragon then they're logically the ones who took her," the hood remarked somewhat impatiently.
"He seems to lack much in the way of sense. Perhaps he was better buried head down in the earth."
Aurim's eyes widened. The second voice had also come from within the hood.
The shrouded head shifted as if looking to the right side. "Being a little addled in the head can be forgiven under the circ.u.mstances. . . ."
Now it turned to the left. "A little . . . not a lot."
"We've our own quandaries, remember."
"Compared to ours, his are moot. Dispose of him."
As he watched the hood switch back and forth, Aurim's concern magnified a hundred times. He had been rescued by some demented creature with an obvious skill for magic. Despite his own respectable abilities-which Aurim felt gradually capable of using again-he knew that he had to be wary.
"Forgive me," the wizard dared say. "And thank you for coming to my aid."
The hood shifted right. "See? He has manners."
To the left. "He has fear . . . and that is a good thing, too."
From the ground, Aurim finally gazed up at what lay beyond his macabre companion-and received yet a further shock.
The storm still blew. Lightning flashed; rain fell in torrents. Aurim had noticed none of this earlier because of more than simply his slow recovery from the horrendous attack. No, the reason he had paid scant attention to the elements had been because nothing had touched either him or the hooded form. Even the sounds of the storm had failed to reach the wizard's ears. They stood completely cut off from the rest of the world by an invisible force that no doubt could be blamed on the mysterious figure with the dual voices.
And that spoke of a spellcaster of tremendous skill.
"I-thank you for rescuing me." He repeated. Determined not to remain in so vulnerable a position, Aurim struggled to his feet. "But I must be on my way. I must find Yssa . . . wherever they've taken her."
"We know where she's been taken," the hood responded to the right. "Should we show him?"
To the left . . . with a shrug of indifference. "As you wish . . . this time."
The hooded figure raised its head and, looking straight at Aurim, quietly said, "We will lead you . . . if you dare come with."
But Aurim did not answer at first, staring at what little he could see at last of the face. What there was visible filled him with an anxiety that eclipsed all else. Now he understood just how powerful this other was . . . and how at any moment that power might be wielded against him.
What could be seen was but a blur. Try as he might, Aurim could not bring the hooded visage at all into focus. He knew why, yes, he knew why. His parents still spoke of the faceless warlock, the hooded sorcerer-friend and foe together in one deathless, resurrecting form.
"You-you're dead . . ."
The hood shifted left and right, then settled in the center again. His macabre companion finally nodded. "Yes . . . yes, I suppose we are."
Aurim had been rescued by Shade.
V.
GWEN BATTERED AT the invisible wall, knowing already that her efforts did her no good. Besides, even if she did break through, could she save herself from plummeting to her death? She only a.s.sumed that her powers would be restored to her once she escaped. What if the Storm Dragon's spell affected her personally? She would shatter herself on the landscape below without ever knowing if his words concerning Aurim were true or not.
The enchantress could not let herself believe that her son was dead. Surely the Dragon King simply sought to break her will. Perhaps in his madness he likely thought that she would then be more susceptible to his influence. Having been, for a time, the student of another drake lord, Gwen understood much of their cunning ways.
But what if he spoke the truth? It would not be above him to so callously kill one of those she loved, then expect her to accept the truth with ease. Gwen swore, trying to make sense of it all.
She could expect no aid from either her husband or Darkhorse. They were far west and although she should still have been able to link to Cabe, he had not responded to her mental entreaties. The Storm Lord had made certain that his "guest" remained entirely alone.
"There must be something . . . someone . . ." Gwen muttered, resting her head against the wall.
A flicker of movement caught her attention. She looked up, but saw nothing.
a.s.suming it only a manifestation of her distraught mind, the fiery-haired sorceress lowered her head once more.
A huge, winged form darted up from below her prison.
Gwen immediately pulled back, instinctively fearful that it would brush aside her cell without notice and send her plunging to her death. Instead, however, the gray leviathan flew carefully past the enchantress. As it rose further up, she saw that it carried in its ma.s.sive forepaws an object about the size of her prison.
She blinked. Actually, it was exactly like her prison.
Pressing against the wall, Gwen watched as the dragon, surely one of the Storm Lord's own, circled the region twice before settling on an area far east of her. The beast hovered amidst the storm, then held out the other prison. The second cell had the same ivory appearance as hers had originally had, preventing Gwen from seeing who lay trapped within.
The huge dragon struggled to maintain its position, its master clearly making no effort to ease the storm for its sake. Gwen found that odd. After a few more moments of battle against the storm, the huge beast abruptly released the opaque prison.
It dropped a bone-jarring hundred feet or so, then stopped in mid-air. Gwen gave silent thanks that she had not been awake when her own had been so set. She wondered who the Storm Lord now set high in the sky. Someone of value to him, that was obvious.
Her heart skipped. Could it be-could it be Aurim?
But no, that was too foolish. Why would her captor tell her that her son was dead, then put him in a prison within view of her own? Someone else had to be held captive there . . .
Then, her expression took on a bitter cast.
Could it be that the other cell held Yssa?
Fury filled the enchantress as she thought of the half-drake woman who had beguiled Aurim and led him to this terrible place. Gwen battered at the wall again, wishing that she could at least confront Yssa. Because of her this had all happened . . .
The dragon circled the other prison, inspecting it. Apparently satisfied that it would remain in place, the leviathan turned then to gaze Gwen's way.
She almost expected it to fly to her, but it seemed that the storm was too much for even the Dragon King's servant. The beast dipped its ma.s.sive head, then dove out of sight.
For some time, Gwen watched the other prison, waiting to see if it, too, would grow transparent. If Yssa did lay within, had the Storm Lord dragged her here so that she, too, could become his consort? It would not have entirely surprised the enchantress, considering her captor.
Nothing happened and at last Gwen sat back. In truth, as angry as she was against the Green Dragon's daughter, she also sympathized with her present situation. She wished such a fate no more on Yssa than she did on herself. If Gwen could have rescued the other woman, she would have, but all that was simply a flight of fancy. The enchantress could not save herself, much less Aurim's love.
The storm continued to churn. Several times, the other prison completely vanished as some thick, black cloud came between them. Gwen watched it, trying to see if at least she could discover some weakness in her own cell by what the other did.
But nothing came to mind. When next the other prison vanished among the storm clouds again, an exasperated Gwen fell back on the plush bed and stared up in frustration.
Only then did she see that someone stared back at her from above.
It was not the eyes of the Dragon King among the clouds, though, but rather something far more astounding. On the upper edge of the prison, sat a cloaked and hooded form who peered down at her in what seemed curiosity. "Seemed" was as best as Gwen could tell, for there was no sign of the face save a hint of chin. He-she knew it to be a "he"-sat atop the floating prison entirely oblivious to either the raging storm or the tremendous heights. Not a hint of wind tousled his hood, not a drop of rain moistened his flowing cloak.
Gwen could only gape and wonder if her nightmare had just grown worse, for she knew that figure, even if his face was hidden-and perhaps more so because it was.
"Shade . . ." she whispered. "It can't be . . ."
He was dead. Darkhorse had seen him die. Queen Erini of Talak had vouched for that death, too.
But then, Shade had died hundreds of times before.
No one knew for certain his origins, although Cabe believed him one of the Vraad sorcerers, the legendary progenitors of the humans living today. Whether true or not, what was known was that, somewhere deep in the past, he had attempted to make himself immortal. But the spell had gone horribly awry and Shade had instead been cursed with an endless series of lives, each blossoming full-grown whenever the previous was slain.
Had that been all there was to it, Gwen would have had no fear. However, Shade's self-inflicted curse was more complex, more devious. His face forever an incomplete blur, he came back from the dead the opposite in soul what he had been in his previous incarnation. The Shade who had been ally against the old Dragon Emperor had become a sinister villain seeking to suck dry the power wielded by Cabe through the crystal magic of the earth-burrowing Quel. Those two personae, each with their own chosen names, had been only the latest of an unbroken string of good and evil, good and evil. Over the centuries, Shade had both helped wreak havoc and build peace. To every race of the Dragonrealm, the name Shade was both revered and cursed, honored and feared.
He seemed to at last take notice of her interest in him. The hooded form stood up as if on a tranquil, even plain. Shade stamped his booted foot once-and suddenly sank through the wall of Gwen's prison.
She moved cautiously, trying not to stir whatever personality drove him now. It should have picked a name by this time, as they all did. Would it be like Simon, who had sacrificed himself in battle against Azran Bedlam's avian Seekers-or more like Madrac, the one who had hunted her husband?
Folding his legs, he hovered a few feet above her. Even close, Gwen could not make out the face within. She caught glimpses of a dark-haired man almost youthful, but never enough to be certain.
"Do I know you?" Shade suddenly asked.
His question so astounded her that the enchantress momentarily forgot her imprisonment. The personae always recalled their past friends and foes, yet another horrific part of the curse. Shade had often slaughtered those who had befriended him in previous incarnations . . . a fact that would sicken him only when again he returned to the side of light.
"I am-I am Gwendolyn Bedlam, Shade. Of course you know me." She would not cower.
"Shade . . ." He c.o.c.ked his head to the side. "Yes . . . I remember that." The hood straightened. "Thank you," Shade added politely.
"What-what do you want?"
"I don't know yet. I haven't decided which direction to go. I've spent quite some time thinking it over, but I still couldn't choose." He hovered lower, stopping just inches above the bed. His visage remained murky, unreadable. "I might still be sitting there still if you hadn't come along."
Gwen tried to keep her tone calm. So far the warlock had done nothing harmful. He sounded more confused than anything. Perhaps she could guide him, then utilize his powers to escape this unsettling prison. "And why was my appearance so important?"
"I really don't know. I suppose from what you said that it's because I knew you once."
"We could discuss this at length, if you like. If you could take me from here to somewhere more-"
"But he wants you here," the hooded form interrupted. "Should I remove you from him? I haven't decided that, either."
There was no telling just how long before the Storm Dragon might check on her. Shade represented Gwen's only hope of escape. She had to convince him that they were better off solving his problems elsewhere.
She sat up and smoothed her hair. The enchantress did not do the latter in an attempt to infatuate Shade, but because it allowed her a moment to think.
"I know you better than most, Shade. I've made a long study of your-your situation. I can help you, but this is hardly the place. We need somewhere quieter." When her companion said nothing, she added, "He could come back at any moment and, if he does, he'll make certain that you won't ever be able to speak with me again."
A black-gloved hand went to the out-of-focus chin. "There is something in what you say."
"We should leave immediately-"
The words had not even finished leaving her mouth when, without warning, Shade reached out and seized her wrist. He stood, both feet firmly planted on the cushions, and looked out at the storm.
"I can sense him," the warlock said. "His thoughts are near, but not on you . . ." He pointed at the other cell. "Or there, even. They seem scattered, almost as if he sleeps . . ."
Gwen paid no attention to his babbling, her concern suddenly focused on the second prison. Yssa. Gwen had entirely forgotten about the half-drake. No matter what she thought of Yssa's involvement with Aurim, she could not leave the younger woman to the Storm Lord's insanity.
"Shade . . . we need to take her with us, too."
"Does she know me, too?"
It was doubtful that the Green Dragon's daughter had ever met Shade, but Gwen replied, "Not quite so much, but, yes, she should definitely be included."
He nodded decisively. "Then, we'll go get her now."
Without warning, Shade walked through the wall.
And Gwen, despite her sudden reservations, had no choice but to follow.
Immediately the howling wind and torrents of rain sought to bowl her over. Thunder threatened her eardrums and the lightning, so close, almost blinded her.
But Shade, ever the creature of fantastic actions, waved his hand and around them the elements all but stilled. He then guided her along as if they both walked on a quiet woodland path instead of thin air. The savage wind barely moved his hood.
As he led her toward the second prison, Gwen marveled at the depths of his power. She had known Shade to be in many ways stronger than any other spellcaster, but never had she imagined this.
Gwen tried not to think about what would happen if he released his grip on her. The enchantress doubted that she could maintain her concentration long enough to save herself, especially with the storm buffeting her.
Shade did not pause until they stood before the opaque wall. He c.o.c.ked his head as if listening, then told Gwen, "His thoughts still drift. We may enter."
That said, the warlock touched the wall with his other gloved hand. His fingers sank through. Shade immediately stepped inside, taking Gwen along.