Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol IV Part 66

"By themselves, no, but Tragaro is linked to them and he amplifies any threat a hundredfold!"

"I feared you would say that. We may have to slay some of them yet."

Den's screams flashed through the wizard's head once more. Cabe could not allow any more to suffer or die. "No . . . not if I can help it. I think we need to split up again."

"Not a wise move."

"Listen to me! I need you to keep them at bay, prevent them from either leaving or casting any spells at Majjin and his men!"

The shadow steed's head twisted around to stare into Cabe's eyes. "And what is it you intend to do in the meantime?"

Cabe's set his mouth tight. "I'm going to face our masked friend."

"Folly! We should face him together!"

"He'll either summon the others back or use the moment to destroy the Gordagians! Either way, innocents will peris.h.!.+"

"And if you go alone, you might!"

But the wizard's mind was made up. "Keep things going here and he'll either be forced to split his efforts or concentrate solely on me. If he does the latter, then you'll have a chance to rescue those he's ensorcelled."

"Cabe-"

"No more arguing." Cabe focused on what he recalled of Tragaro's domain. The clearer the image, the more certain he was of materializing in the right location. "I've got to go now!"

"Beware! Your grandfather Nathan considered Tragaro a most accomplished Dragon Master!"

As he vanished, Cabe managed to call back, "Then, I'll just have to be better . . . "

IX.

Once again, a Bedlam had betrayed him. Once again, the cleansing of the land had been thwarted-at least for a time. The dream of a realm free of dragons was his only purpose, the only reason he had persevered so long.

Tragaro rose from the ruined throne, gnarled hands cupped together in antic.i.p.ation. This Bedlam a.s.sumed himself as clever as Nathan or Azran.

He was about to discover that Tragaro was cleverer by far than all three.

Cabe choked back a gasp, but not because of the stench. He had been prepared for the odious smell of the decaying dragon, but what he had not been prepared for was the blackened, crisp skeleton almost at his feet.

The final, charred remains of Den.

Disgust and regret gave way to anger. Den had done nothing more than try to save Cabe and Darkhorse. Tragaro had burned him alive simply for that.

"Such emotion. Its like brought the Dragon Masters down and left the lands in the claws of the drakes for another two centuries."

"I knew you were about," Cabe said without turning. "I a.s.sumed you wanted to announce yourself dramatically. It seems your way."

He sensed the spell as Tragaro cast it and quickly turned to counter. The s.h.i.+ning silver s.h.i.+eld came up just as the rocky projectiles struck. The stalact.i.tes and stalagmites shattered, showering both mages with rock.

Tragaro immediately gestured. The projectiles' remnants reformed around Cabe in an attempt to entomb him.

Without even a movement, the younger wizard dispersed the fragments again.

"I also a.s.sumed you'd try something like that," Cabe remarked, nodding his head toward the ma.s.sive corpse. "since it worked so well before."

"I merely test your skills, Bedlam. You answer some questions." The smile within the smile stretched menacingly. "Now I begin in earnest."

The stone floor beneath Cabe's feet suddenly cracked open. A hot gust of wind rising up barely warned him in time of what was to follow.

As Cabe threw himself to the side, a burst of molten lava shot up, striking the high ceiling.

The surface on which Cabe had landed suddenly liquefied. His right foot sank in to the s.h.i.+n. He tried to push himself up, only to have his hand sink as well. When he tried to pull either free, it was to find both mired completely.

"I am a Dragon Master . . . " Tragaro quietly uttered as he approached the floundering form. " . . . and you . . . you are not even worthy of the name Bedlam."

Cabe sank beneath the liquid stone.

"Not even worthy at-"

Tragaro raised his arm over his masked face as the black tar suddenly flew up and over him. The Dragon Master vanished under the torrent.

Face grim, Cabe rose from the hole created by his surprise a.s.sault and searched for his adversary. Yet, as the liquid stone splattered to the floor and resolidified, it left no trace whatsoever of the other spellcaster. As quick as Cabe had countered Tragaro's vile work, so, too, had the dark wizard reacted in defending himself.

A bony, blackened hand clutched Cabe's throat from behind. Twisting, he stared into the sightless sockets of Den's skeletal visage.

The knowledge of just who he faced nearly did Cabe in . . . no doubt exactly as Tragaro intended. The regrets, the hindsight, they stifled Cabe's reaction, made it hard for him to consider any escape.

His air cut off, his heart pounding madly, Cabe struck wildly at Den's skeletal form. Yet, the ghoulish corpse did not explode as it should have. Instead, the force of Cabe's spell scattered in every direction, even at its own caster.

That which had been the novice wizard pulled Cabe high, dangling the struggling mage like a trapped animal.

Cabe shut his eyes.

Den shuddered and released his victim as a lance that gleamed as bright as the sun pierced his burnt torso where the heart had once beat. The corpse staggered back.

Utilizing what magic he could, the wizard landed somewhat unsteadily on his feet. Rubbing his throat, he watched as the Sunlance suddenly flared. From his grandfather, Cabe had inherited the ability to call upon the Light Of Kylus-the last the elven name for the sun-and create a gleaming shaft that always struck its mark. The first time he had used the ability had been by pure accident, when the Dragon King Brown had attempted to kill him.

But where Brown had simply fallen dead, the animated corpse now glowed as brightly as the lance. The light grew brighter, blinding. Cabe could no longer even see the dead Gordagian's form.

Then, with one last sudden flare, the Sunlance vanished again . . . and with it went the last traces of Den.

"A Sunlancer . . . " Tragaro's voice declared . . . for once a hint of respect in it. "The Bedlam isss a Sunlancer."

Still gasping for breath, Cabe turned to meet the Dragon Master. He took little pleasure in the fact that Tragaro also breathed heavily. At least the elder mage could stand without the fear of teetering. "A Sunlancer, yes. It's a family tradition. One I'll share with you firsthand unless you give in now."

Tragaro laughed harshly. "You are in no condition to summon a second such marvel, Bedlam. Your last trick is played, whereas I have still one more at hand . . . "

His strength nearly depleted, Cabe nonetheless tried to ready himself. The longer he delayed, the more likely that Darkhorse would have the other situation resolved. Bereft of his mesmerized slaves, Tragaro would be a danger more possibly contained.

If Cabe survived, that is.

The masked figure simply stood there, both mouths grinning. Cabe tried his best to detect some twinge of spellcasting, some hint that his foe was preparing his next magical attack. Tragaro was too far away for any physical a.s.sault, even with a dagger, and against such mundane a.s.saults, the younger mage kept himself well-protected, anyway.

Then, Tragaro opened his mouth.

Out came a thick stream of pure flame.

Darkhorse expected Tragaro's ensorcelled pupils to continue their a.s.sault against him, but, to his dismay, they turned from the shadow steed and instead renewed their efforts against General Majjin.

Rather than have the good sense to retreat, the Gordagian commander ordered his men off their horses. The soldiers spread out through the pa.s.s, trying to get near the mages. Several had bows out, the intention obvious. Majjin planned to save the kidnapped spellcasters even if he had to kill them to do it.

Yet, it was Majjin's men who suffered loss. The first archers to get close enough to have a chance suddenly found the earth opening under them. Two men screamed as they plummeted into the sudden chasm. Another scrambled to safety, only to have an unnatural wind thrust him back over the gap. He plunged, his cry cut off as the chasm shut tight again.

Majjin, however, was not one to be daunted even in the face of deadly odds. He continued to spread out his forces, perhaps trying to draw the mages into too many fronts and thereby splinter their efforts.

But the robed figures seemed not at all put off by the general's tactics. The tremors increased and rock slides began everywhere. Herons cried out and abandoned their nests.

As if taking its cue from the birds, the river suddenly left its banks, rus.h.i.+ng over several Gordagians who had headed toward it. Five vanished, while several more floundered about, their armor weighing them down dangerously.

Darkhorse trod across the raging water. With his mouth he s.n.a.t.c.hed one struggling soldier, then formed appendages on each side to seize others. Seeing no more, he reluctantly departed the river with the four he had saved and brought his precious cargo to the frustrated commander.

"Are you daft, human? Your warriors die left and right and you simply send them in for more! Be gone from here! We will deal with this madness!"

But Majjin ignored him, instead continuing to shout orders. He still planned to get archers near enough to strike.

Darkhorse swore, something he had learned well from humans. So long as the Gordagians refused to retreat, he could not attend to the wizards properly without more lives lost.

The rock slides grew more tumultuous, forcing him once again to race hard if he hoped to save those caught beneath them.

It was all up to Cabe, then. Darkhorse could only hope that his friend could deal quickly with Tragaro . . . a.s.suming that the latter had not already slain him.

The impossibility of what the Dragon Master had done nearly enabled his surprise to put a quick and fiery end to Cabe. There had been no casting of a spell, no use of a magical talisman.

Tragaro had simply opened his mouth and breathed fire.

All of this Cabe registered in less than a second. Experience, not skill, saved him now, for he had survived by expecting the unexpected time and time again. The flames caught his robes, even singed his right hand, but he rolled away, dousing the fire while at the same time moving out of the dark wizard's view.

Another burst of flame shot out, scorching the ruined column Cabe planted himself behind. The other wizard flattened to the ground, barely avoiding annihilation. Given a few more moments, he hoped to have the strength to fight Tragaro . . . but it seemed doubtful that Tragaro would give him those few moments.

Nothing remained in Cabe that could, for now, counter the incredible flame the older spellcaster breathed. It was in itself magical, yet not created by magic. It burned hotter than any fire Cabe had created, possibly burned hotter than even a Sunlance.

Then, of all things, an old expression came to him, an expression more apt now than anytime in the mage's life.

Fight fire with fire.

It was certainly worth a try . . . and would use up what reserves Cabe had managed to scrounge.

He would place himself squarely in Tragaro's sight, certain and terrible death his fate if he failed. Aware, though, of what little other choice was left to him, Cabe leapt up and waited for the inevitable.

Tragaro breathed on him.

The spell Cabe cast was a simple one, so simple that he feared the Dragon Master would know it for what it was and react in time.

But Tragaro did not, so confident was he of victory. The flames came within a foot of Cabe. The younger wizard could feel the incredible heat. Sweat poured down over his face.

And, as he had hoped, his spell sent that same fearsome fire back into the bronze visage of Tragaro.

Perhaps Tragaro was resilient to the flames, but the metal certainly was not. The bronze glowed bright, burned hot-and Tragaro shrieked. He clutched at the mask-yet seemed incredibly resistant to removing it. Instead, he let the sizzling metal sear his flesh.

Humanity bested Cabe's desire to stand back and avoid further threat. He leapt toward the still-shrieking figure, casting a quick spell that he hoped would keep his own fingers from burning to the bone.

Through the mask, Tragaro's eyes blazed with pain, but when he saw Cabe trying to remove the cause of it, he stumbled back.

That the elder mage had the strength and endurance he had stunned Cabe. Anyone else would have been writhing on the ground, their flesh roasted.

Yet Tragaro still suffered terribly and despite his reluctance to part with the mask, Cabe refused to back down. He darted forward, snaring the bronze piece and using all his might to rip it away.

Along with it came the Dragon Master's own face.

In horror, Cabe stared as Tragaro's eyes and mouth stretched in a comically macabre fas.h.i.+on, as if his flesh had become tree sap. Tragaro howled even more and s.n.a.t.c.hed desperately at the mask, but did so too late.

And with the false face finally gone, the other wizard's countenance transformed.

All trace of beard, of any hair, vanished . . . and with them went Tragaro's nose as well. Only a slit remained. The Dragon Master's mouth became little more than a long slit, one that spread far wider than on any normal person. His skin darkened, transforming to the color of moss but touched by a hint of the same bronze cast of the mask.

Even Tragaro's hands transformed, curling inward and growing longer, taloned. Scales developed that swiftly covered the skin.

The eyes remained pale, penetrating, but they had also changed, turning into slits more akin to a lizard or some other reptile.

Darkhorse had believed Tragaro dead with the rest of the original Dragon Masters and it appeared he had been correct. What stood before Cabe now certainly could not be the venerable wizard.

But it could be a drake.

A drake called . . . Sssorak?

"My ma.s.ssk!" he hissed. Without the false face, every vestige of humanity was giving way quickly. "I will have my ma.s.ssk!"

Despite the heat it retained, Cabe did not release his hold. The mask radiated magic of its own, one with a signature not unlike that he had sensed around the false Tragaro.

He had even trained a drake to fight its own . . .

"You don't need this," the wizard insisted, trying to put a peaceful end to the struggle. "You're not Tragaro. You're a drake. You've no reason to want to destroy your own kind."

Sssorak hissed. He looked larger, more b.e.s.t.i.a.l, and the robes he had worn as Tragaro now fit very tight. "They mussst be dessstroyed! Their monssstrous reign must end!"

The drake looked ready to exhale again. Cabe had never come across a drake who could exhale flame or poison mist while in a humanoid form, but Tragaro's beast did not even resemble a normal drake. He looked trapped between human and dragon. There were rare cases of magical crossbreeding, of beings whose lineage could be traced to both races, but such was not the circ.u.mstance with Sssorak. He was fully drake . . . but either he or Tragaro had created of him something else as well.

Before Sssorak could inhale again, Cabe held the already half-melted face up. The drake instantly clamped his mouth shut, but he continued to expand in size. From his back, lumps pushed through, lumps recognizable as vestigial wings. Behind Sssorak, a small, narrow tail slapped the stone.