Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol IV Part 15

Then, pain struck her and she realized just what barrier it was that she was fighting.

Herself. A part of her that did not want to give in again to her former lords . . . but why?

Once asked, the answer, since it came from her own mind, was instantly known. To betray Shade was also to betray Wellen . . . both his belief in her and in himself . . . for the Lords of the Dead saw much potential in him.

They also knew that he would never become one of their servants.

"No!" Xabene called out in the scene. She tried to withdraw her hand, but whatever tugged at her held the sorceress and, in fact, pulled her farther in.

She screamed, but whether in the real world or the dreamland, she never knew, for the barrier broke then and the enchantress was overwhelmed by what had been waiting for her all this time.

Waiting in hunger.

Chapter Twelve.

"Issss thissss the one?"

Prentiss Asaalk, looking much more fit than he had after his capture and feeling a bit more in control of himself, studied the image the crystal revealed to him. He stood in the imperial chamber of the Dragon King Purple, the monarch of the realm stretched out before him in all his horrific splendor. Unlike the "throne room" of the Green Dragon, that of Purple was barely more than the cavern itself. Only those things that the drake lord thought necessary to his pursuit of knowledge, and the power that such knowledge would in turn lead to, were present.

Asaalk was very respectful in both manner and response, despite now being granted the privilege of gazing at the glory of his new master. The blue man had been treated well these past few days, but he knew that his footing was still precarious. Wellen Bedlam was still loose and the drake lord was growing furious, especially after the debacle involving the gnome's cursed citadel.

"That is not him, no." The image was that of a strange old . . . old? Asaalk thought he looked a thousand years dead . . . clad in a cloak and hood that seemed ready to swallow him.

"Then, I know who it musssst be." The leviathan raised a foreclaw. A human clad in a robe of deepest purple touched the crystal. The sheer size of the dragon made it impossible for him to manipulate such tiny objects without endangering them. The artifact was also so sensitive that to use his vast sorcerous power might have resulted in the drake lord destroying its effectiveness.

Prentiss Asaalk had noticed many humans working for the Dragon King. They did all the things that the drake clans found beneath them and also those things that the tinier, more adept hands of men could do better. The blue man had also come to realize that for all the drakes there were in the clans, they were actually few in number. Humans already outnumbered them and would increase that margin before too long. It would be interesting, he thought, to see what the future held.

His future held nothing but oblivion if Bedlam was not discovered soon . . . and then what? Asaalk would have to find a new way to make himself valuable. So I will, yes!

"Concentrate on what floatssss before you, human, or elsssse I shall feed you to my get as a sssspecial treat!"

The blue man looked up . . . and gasped. His eyes narrowed and his mouth curled in bitterness. He could never forget the face now. "It is him, yes! It is Wellen Bedlam!"

He had come to hate that face for putting him in this situation. Had he been in charge of this expedition, this would have never happened.

"Ssssoooo . . ." The leviathan raised his head. As far as the northerner was concerned, there were far too many teeth in the smile of the Purple Dragon. "Brother Green treadssss where he should not!"

The statement made no sense to Asaalk, but he remained silent. If the reptilian monarch deigned to explain his outburst, Asaalk would be more than pleased. If not . . . he would have to live without the knowledge.

The important thing was to live.

"Your Bedlam issss in the care of my brother to the northwesssst! The Dagora Foresssst! Green ha.s.sss grown too pressssumptuoussss! I shall tear his kingdom a.s.sssunder! There will be carnage everywhere! Hissss damssss will become mine; hissss get will feed my own!"

Another Dragon King had Wellen Bedlam and had stolen him . . . somehow. . . from this one. The blue man understood that much. He also understood that his captor was speaking of a war between the clans of two leviathans, with Asaalk caught in the midst! In desperation, he sought ways to prevent the coming war. Asaalk was a survivor. Better to throw himself into a plot of his own making than sit by idly waiting for death to come for him.

A solution came to him. It was not the best, but time did not warrant long and careful planning. While it had risk to him, he preferred it over doing nothing. "My great and honorable lord!"

He was forced to call twice more before the Dragon King noticed him. The head of the behemoth swung down and Asaalk found himself staring into a dripping tunnel from which there was no returning. Sulfur and the smell of blood combatted with one another to smother him. He stifled the look of disgust that was attempting to surface, knowing that it would only lessen his chances of convincing his new master of the worth of the plan.

"Sssspeak, manling! Or should I ssssimply disssspense with your annoying pressssence now?"

"My lord, I have a plan which may gain you what you desire without the danger of loss!"

His phrasing, he discovered, did not entirely agree with the leviathan. "Do you think my clanssss cowardly?"

"By no means, great lord! That which I meant was . . . was that why risk what you seek? Such a war would likely kill Wellen Bedlam!" A new thought, based upon what he had learned about the society of the drakes, gave him more ammunition. "The Emperor would surely not like seeing your two lands torn apart either! He would grow suspicious and learn of what you have hidden from him!"

Purple's mouth clamped shut. Asaalk had never seen a dragon caught unaware before, but here was such a sight.

"The tome musssst be mine!" the drake lord muttered. "Only I have the right to it!"

"It was found, after all, in your proud domain, yes?"

The handful of human servants in the chamber were all staring at Asaalk. He flashed them an arrogant smile, to show them who had their master's ear now.

"What issss your plan?"

Here it was. Always it seemed that his existence depended upon something. "It is simplicity itself, yes. Master Bedlam and those who control him will leave the other kingdom soon. They must, for they, too, want what is rightfully yours." He spit on the cavern floor to show what he thought of their presumptuousness. "When they leave, they will find one waiting for them. One who will gain their trust and lead Wellen Bedlam into your very claws. That one will be me, yes."

"You? And why should I trusssst you, human? If I let you loosssse, you will ssssimply try to run!"

"How could I run from you? I am merely a mauling. Besides, I have come to see that my desires are best served by serving you, yes." There was truth to that. If he was condemned to live out his life in the Dragonrealm, it made sense to choose a path leading to power. The drakes were the lords of the realm and Asaalk had learned enough about the others to know that his chances were probably best with this one. There was just enough similarity between himself and the Dragon King to make that so.

Of course, by that same reasoning, there was less reason for the leviathan to trust him.

"A pretty little sssspeach . . . and a plan which, while ssssimple, might be acceptable! There musssst be a few minor alterationssss, though! I musssst alsssso ensure your obedience!"

Prentiss Asaalk had known that would be the case and steeled himself. Whatever happened, it could not be too severe, else it ruin his chances of tricking Master Bedlam. While the squat little scholar had led a sheltered life, he was by no means a fool, save perhaps in being too naive at critical times.

The Dragon King tilted his head and eyed one of the guards standing just behind the blue man. "Ssssee to it that thissss one issss fitted for a collar! Then . . . return with him to me!

Would it not have risked his new status, the blue man would have exhaled a tremendous sigh of relief. The collar was what he had hoped for. He had seen the sorcerous toy in action. There were other, stricter methods that Purple used to keep his more enterprising servants at bay, but the collar was the simplest. Most humans needed nothing; they were cowed by the drake lord's mere presence. Collars and such were for those too crafty or too important to be left unguarded, people who might actually defy their rightful monarch.

The collar, despite the little tricks it contained, was something Prentiss Asaalk knew he could circ.u.mvent. The blue man had tricks of his own that no one, not even his late and unlamented companions in the expedition, knew about.

As he was led away, much more respectfully than when he had first been dragged in here days ago, the northerner began to think that life in the Dragonrealm might not be so terrible. . . once he had made a few changes in the way things were done.

The look on Wellen Bedlam's terrified visage would be good enough incentive, too.

"Wake up, lad!"

Wellen was once more on the Heron's Wing. He was trying his best to sleep, but Captain Yalso kept shaking him. Part of him knew that was wrong, for Yalso was dead, but the image was insistent. Somewhat distractedly, he noticed that his head was trying to warn him of some danger.

"I said for you to bewakin' up!" A beefy hand slapped him on the right side of his face. His eyes opened wide but, as is often the case with those startled to consciousness, he could focus on nothing. He only knew that the torches that had lit the chamber were still burning, albeit not nearly so brightly.

"That's better!"

The startled scholar blinked, looked up at the source of the voice, and then tried to scramble off the other side of the bed. Unfortunately, a steely grip around his arm kept him from going anywhere.

Captain Yalso's pale visage came within an inch of his own. "Someone might think you're not pleased to be seem' me, Master Bedlam!"

"You . . . you're dead!"

The sea captain smiled. "That I am, lad."

The next connection was not difficult to make. "The Lords of the Dead! They sent you!"

Still keeping his hold on Wellen, Yalso sat his heavy bulk down on the edge of the bed. "That they did. A queer lot, them lords, but their power can't be argued with. I heard me name and there I was!"

Bedlam noticed that Yalso never breathed, even when he spoke. That should have made it impossible for him to speak at the very least, but the corpse seemed unimpeded by that fact. Yalso also stunk like a fish left rotting on the deck during a hot, sunny day. "It . . . it's good to see you, captain. I mean that, regardless of the circ.u.mstances. I wish . . . "

The undead mariner nodded his sad agreement. "I know. We made our choices and that's all there is to it."

"How did you get here?"

"How else? Through your comely la.s.s."

"Xabene? But she-"

"Was made an offer that sounded too good. Can't blame the girl; I was in her shoes not too long ago." Yalso stood up, his hold on Wellen's arm never easing. "Speakin' of which, it's time we got goin'! I've got a bargain to keep and you're part of it, Master Wellen." With one hand, he lifted Wellen up and stood him on his feet. "Good to see you're wearin' your clothes, my boy! Would hate to think I had to drag you naked before their like!"

The befuddled explorer gazed down at his crumpled clothing, which he vaguely recalled having fallen asleep in earlier. Then, realizing the import of the ghoul's words, he asked, "Where are we going?" What's to happen to me?"

Yalso tried to look comforting, but his ghastly appearance had the opposite effect. Wellen, having more time to observe him, noticed that the words he heard were not in sync with the movements of the late captain's mouth.

"No need to be worryin' too much, friend. They've promised not to harm ya. They just want to be knowin' what you know."

The hapless explorer tried to pry the death grip loose, but touching the sailor's hand was like touching the cold flesh of the horse Xabene had summoned for him. Wellen drew his own hand away and s.h.i.+vered. Yalso's face darkened.

"D'you think I like it? They've offered me a new chance at life, Master Bedlam. I just have to bring you to them to answer some questions! Then I bring you back and they give me what the cursed sky serpent stole from me! Is it too much to ask ya, then, to help me out? You're still livin', you are! You escaped!"

The bulky corpse began to drag him toward the hall. Wellen forced himself to touch the hand again and struggled to free himself. "Yalso! Listen to me! I've mourned the deaths of all of you and I wish I could bring you back, but you can't trust the Lords of the Dead to keep their promise! They've only resurrected you because they know I feel guilty about what happened!" It was true; he had still not forgiven himself for ever having put together the expedition. "They know I won't fight you as much as I can!"

Small cracks had materialized in the mariner's hands and face while Bedlam had talked. They reminded Wellen of the sort of cracks a badly formed clay pot might develop on hardening. The sight made him nauseous. Yalso did not bleed as living people did. Even as the unnerved scholar watched, a dark, thick substance began to drip from the wounds. What was slowly seeping out of the corpse was blood, he realized, but it had long ago congealed.

The undead captain did not notice what was happening to him. "I can't take that chance, Master Bedlam! I'll not stay dead if I have a choice about it! C'mon, man! You'll be okay! They've promised to give you to your la.s.s! Ya can't call that a fate worse than death, now can you?"

"Where is Xabene?" Had she really betrayed him? It seemed reasonable to suppose that she had to have been their key to the protected realm of the Green Dragon. Like the tragic figure before him, Xabene had been made an offer that encompa.s.sed all she could ever want. Life without power was as horrible to her as being dead was to Captain Yalso.

"She's fine," the corpse replied in what was supposed to be soothing tones. The cracks had spread so much that the mariner was now covered with dripping wounds, none of which he had yet noticed. Yalso's visage was taking on a less-than-pleased expression. "Now, come with me, Master Bedlam, so that what needs to be done will be done!"

"I cannot, captain!" Wellen lifted his knees into the stomach of his undead companion.

The sailor shook his head. Bedlam's kick had not even slowed him. "You shouldn'a fought me, Master Bedlam. Now, I'm afraid I'll have to take you more forcible like."

Yalso's eyes turned up, becoming pale white orbs. More and more the scent of death permeated from his body. "I'll have to make you more agreeable. I'm sorry, lad, but it's me life I'm talkin' about!"

This is not the captain! Wellen told himself. Yalso was never this way in life and he'd not be this way in death! This was a shadow of the man, manipulated by the soulless necromancers Shade claimed were his kin.

The scholar fought the rage that welled within him. What the Lords of the Dead had done to Captain Yalso was unforgivable. "Captain, if I could give you what you desire, I would!"

A brief spark of the old mariner resurfaced. Yalso's horrific visage twisted into a look of genuine sadness at what the two had come to. "I know ya would. I . . . I really can't help meself! They promised me, though!"

"They promised Xabene many things, but I've seen that they like to take back those promises! Think of how they've treated her!" Wellen was gambling that the enchantress had not been so willing to return to the fold as the corpse had said. Perhaps she had been tempted, even almost succ.u.mbed to their offerings, but if she had accepted, why send Yalso, then, instead of her? Xabene was not one to leave something she had started to others. She would have gone after Wellen, if only to erase her earlier failure.

"I-" Yalso froze, caught between whatever he had been told and what his mind argued might be the truth. Wellen's spirit rallied, although not for his own sake. That Yalso hesitated meant Bedlam had been correct concerning the raven- crested sorceress. Xabene had not betrayed him.

"I have to . . . " Though the captain's loyalties, enforced or otherwise, tied him to where he stood, it was all too likely that the necromancers' power would prevail in the end. Wellen could not hope that the undead mariner would decay away if stalled long enough. The Lords of the Dead surely had that contingency covered.

Power within, if there was ever a time for you to come forth, it's now! He wished with all his might for some spell to save him from the clutches of his rotting captor, but nothing happened. His mind still screamed uselessly of the danger he was in, yet no other bit of sorcery sought to free him of that danger.

For that matter, he wondered why no one was rus.h.i.+ng to his aid. With the arguing, it would have made sense for a guard or two to come bursting in . . . unless the forces behind Yalso had taken care of that beforehand.

Staring at the entranceway, Wellen abruptly spotted his one chance for salvation. It would mean risking all, however, for if he failed, his plan would only serve to turn his late comrade against him.

"I know it's hard, Captain Yalso," he said in his most understanding voice. "You still have time to consider everything. I could be wrong. Perhaps if we start on our way to wherever it was you were trying to lead me to? By that time, you might be able to think clearer."

Yalso's now blank eyes stared his way. "What are you trying to do, Master Bedlam?"

"Help you."

"Help me . . . all right."

Wellen had banked on this shambling parody being less than the living sailor or else his plan would have failed in that instant.

As the captain turned them both toward the entranceway, Wellen stared at the torches that were still burning on each side.

Yalso only held him by one arm, too.

His captor was silent, either still engaged in mental battle with himself or simply deciding that speech was an unnecessary drain on his false life. Wellen walked almost beside him, trying to keep up his show of support until the end. "It's always possible that there's another way, captain. Shade is a masterful warlock, perhaps he-"

"He'll be dead, lad, like I've been."

Wellen almost gave himself away at the announcement. Just how great an attack was this? Did the Lords of the Dead seek to take on all of their adversaries while they slumbered under the mantle of false security? Was even the Green Dragon in danger? If so, it only made %lien's need to free himself that much greater.

The torch on his side was almost in his grasp. Another two steps. Then, it was only one. Still Yalso did not notice. Would he react as Bedlam a.s.sumed?

The final step. The burning torch was within reach. Wellen lunged for it.

"You shouldn'a had, Master Bedlam!" a sad Yalso announced. He pulled hard on Wellen's arm, nearly yanking his prisoner off the floor. His strength was enough that the explorer could not help but fall toward him.