Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade (20 page)

Cabe materialized in the other chamber, spells ready. Two male figures stood on the other side of the room. The pair was engrossed in conversation. That they ignored his dramatic entrance made absolute sense to Cabe when he realized that he could see
through
them.

They were ghosts. Memories of the Manor.

One of them was Cabe’s own grandfather.

There was some slight resemblance—just enough to mark Cabe and his grandfather as of the same blood—but the elder wizard had a regal bearing that the grandson doubted he could match. Cabe had never met Nathan, leader of the Dragon Masters—a band of wizards who sought to free the Dragonrealm—but he knew of him. Nathan looked young and healthy at this point, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes,
concern focused on the slightly younger figure before him. A younger figure whom Cabe
did
recognize, much to his regret.

His father. Azran. The madman who would kill his own brother, betray the Dragon Masters, and seek to use his infant son’s life to further his own dark goals.

Where Nathan’s hair color was similar to Cabe’s and both were clean-shaven, Azran’s hair was the darkest black and he had just begun to grow his beard. The only common factor among the three generations of Bedlams was the telltale silver streak in the hair of each.

Although both specters looked little different in age, Cabe knew that Azran had been the younger of Nathan’s sons. Magic had a way of blurring the lines, with experience the only real difference between the pair before him. Azran had been far too impatient with his father’s methods and far more reckless.

The ghosts were having an argument over just that subject. While fascinated to find a memory retained by the Manor that he had not seen before, Cabe saw no point to it for now. There were far too many things going on that demanded his immediate concentration.

But just as he was about to depart, Azran said, “And what about the texts you and Yalak discovered last year? Actual texts by the founders! They sit gathering more dust than they gathered for thousands and thousands of years!”

“Most of those texts remain untranslated, Azran.”

Cabe stilled. He knew nothing about any such texts. There was little hint of the founding race left, and much of what he knew was from things the Gryphon had discovered overseas. Their civilization had once spanned the world for millennia and then, for reasons still unapparent, had died out.

“Then give them to me to translate! You’ve seen the value of what’s already been done! The tower promises all the power we need!”

Cabe stepped nearer. There was reason to hear this particular scene after all. He knew that Shade had been searching for clues from the
founders’ past and the Gryphon had discovered mention of a tower in one fragment they knew the warlock had been perusing.

“This is the sanctum of the wizard who has given you a home and should not be—” shouted a familiar and welcome voice from behind him.

He spun around. “Valea!”

The wizard gaped at his daughter . . . or what was no longer his daughter. Yes, outwardly it appeared to be an equally startled Valea, but almost immediately Cabe noticed that he saw
through
her.

Never in his life had he come across so recent a memory retained by the Manor. Cabe reached a hand to Valea and watched it enter her stomach unhindered. He watched as she peered around the room, her ghost equally oblivious to those of her grandfather and great-grandfather.

Suddenly aware of silence from the duo, Cabe looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, they had vanished.

Familiar with the fact that the “ghosts” had little to do with the concept of time, Cabe had no doubt that Nathan and Azran had been what had brought Valea into the room. He returned his attention to his daughter’s image, hoping that she might still offer some clue to the older memory.

Valea continued to look confused. At last, she started to turn away.

Something just beyond the doorway moved out of sight.

Cabe flung himself through the vision of Valea just as she too vanished. He turned in the direction that he had seen the other figure go.

The area was empty.

A chill coursed down his spine. He sent a mental summons seeking Valea and felt no response. Frustrated at his earlier distraction, he transported himself to her chambers. In general, Cabe was respectful of his daughter’s privacy, but this was not the time for such mundane matters.

But like the rest of the Manor, Valea’s chambers were devoid of any living soul.

His heart pounding, Cabe returned to the central hall. There, he
took a last look around, then cried out to the air, “Where is she? What are you trying to tell me? Damn you! Be plain for once!”

But the Manor remained silent and no new ghosts appeared to give some hint as to what the ancient edifice sought to say. Cabe had long ago recognized that the Manor had some sentience of its own, but what its purpose was remained another mystery. Until now, Cabe had never seen his magical residence as anything but mildly benevolent, harmless.

Yet, if it would not now give him the answers he needed, the wizard knew that he could never entirely trust it, perhaps not even enough to live within its walls.

Cabe stood frozen, trying to decide what next to do. This was an unexpected turn at the worst moment. His daughter was missing and what clues he had indicated something dire had happened.

And worse, he could not forget the figure he had glimpsed just behind her image, a figure he feared had everything to do with her disappearance. At first, he had thought that even despite the absence of a hood covering the head it might have been Shade . . . and in truth even that might have been better. At least he understood Shade well enough.

However, what he had taken for the blurred features of the warlock had proven, after a moment’s consideration, anything but . . . or rather, had been
nothing
whatsoever.

The intruder had had
no
face.

EDRIN’S BROW WRINKLED
as he studied Shade. “Thing doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“I have little desire to befriend it. Would you care to?”

The sorcerer’s response earned a chuckle from Edrin. “No,” the dwarf responded. “I suppose not.”

“This’s what we were huntin’ when we found you,” Magron explained. “Second one we’ve spotted.” To Valea, he said, “You mentioned a name. A Nekeri or something.”

“Necri,” his brother corrected. “She said it was a Necri. Never heard of such a fiend. What is it?”

“A demon of sorts, I suppose,” she answered. “It’s a false life. It exists as a servant of the Lords of the Dead.”

“Them?” blurted Magron. “They’re just legend!”

“This monster looks true enough,” Edrin countered. “I’ll take the lady’s word. That leads to another interestin’ question—why’re they here? What’ve we got that those necromancers would want to send their foul beasties after?”

The Necri chose that moment to renew its thrashing. The wall mount from one of the chains groaned ominously, as if it was slowly working its way out.

“Keep that thing under control!” ordered Edrin. He concentrated on Shade once more. “He’s still fixed on you really hard! Why’s that?”

“I have nothing to do with the Lords of the Dead,” Shade countered.

“That’s not a real good answer—”

Now all the wall mounts groaned. Two guards moved in. They pressed the Necri back with their weapons.

“Better now,” the dwarven leader rumbled. Once again, he interrogated Shade. “I think you might know a bit more than you say.”

There was a snapping sound, followed by the grating of more metal.

The Necri swung the chain still dangling from what passed for a wrist and struck the closest guard. The movement also enabled the fiend to swat the other guard with the side of the wing that made up the rest of the arm and paw.

“Watch those other chains!” Magron shouted.

The Necri tore its other wing-arm free. Bits of rock pelted the group. The creature moved with more confidence, more surety and Shade suspected that it had only one purpose in mind.

As he expected, the chiropteran demon lunged for him. The chains holdings legs easily tore from the walls.

Valea lunged in front of him. Her hands glowed.

A golden sphere surrounded the Necri. Its pale, leathery skin wrinkled, as if the glow itself was anathema to its monstrous unlife.

Magron tried to strike the Necri from behind. His axe cut into the sphere just as Valea shouted a warning.

The sphere exploded. Magron fell back blinded.

The Necri ignored all else. All that existed for it was Shade.

Drawing an arc before him, the sorcerer created a rip in the air. A strong suction caught the Necri. The demon flapped its wings in an attempt to pull back.

Shade drew another arc to the left of the first. The rip opened immediately. As with the first, it pulled the Necri sharply to it. The demon was caught between the two. The dueling suctions forced the wings wide open.

Shade touched the air behind each of the rips. The suction from each magnified.

The Necri strained. Its limbs stretched taut.

A sickening tearing sound echoed through the chamber as the Necri began to split in two. Shade exhaled as his spells took command.

The two parts of the Necri abruptly separated as if no more than parchment. Simultaneously, the ruined parts flared with black fire.

There suddenly stood
two
Necri.

Shade’s spell dissipated. He cursed as one Necri sought him out while the second turned upon Valea. Kadaria and her comrades had planned just for him. They knew his style, for even after so long, after so much denial, Shade still remained in part a Vraad.

But a Vraad would have cared little what happened to others. The Lords of the Dead might consider that a weakness—they being Vraad, too—but Shade at least at present believed it the one difference between him and them. It also represented what he hoped was his path to redemption, if that was still possible.

Ignoring the threat to himself, Shade formed a ball of green energy in his palm. He tossed it at the Necri occupied with the enchantress.

His own foe fell upon him before he could see if his attack would succeed. The demon’s fetid breath assailed Shade as the creature threw him back. Shade struck the floor hard, the collision jarring every bone.

But if the Necri thought to stun him or do worse, its masters had not fully taught it about Shade. For someone who had died a thousand and more violent ways, the collision was a momentary agony at best. That meant that the sorcerer was able to get hand up to the Necri’s throat and keep the demon from tearing out his face with its teeth.

“Shade . . .” it rasped. “Shade . . . you will not have the stone . . . you will fail here again . . .”

He wanted to demand to know what the beast meant, but had to concern himself with surviving the moment. Shade had no idea what would happen next if he perished here and did not want to find out.

His hand glowed. Magical energies created extensions to his fingers and thumb until they completely encircled the Necri’s throat.

The teeth drew nearer. Drops of venom stung his cheek.

Shade squeezed.

The stench of the Necri’s breath ceased. The deathly eyes unfocused.

Ichor dribbled over Shade’s chest as the Necri’s head toppled on top of him. He knocked aside the stinking head and then kicked the body aside.

His first view beyond was of Valea using the Necri’s own wings to tightly bind it. That did not keep it from continuing to charge her, but now Edrin and another dwarf tackled the demon, sending it falling at her feet.

Valea glanced her way . . . and vehemently shook her head. She put a hand to her face, then pointed at him.

Shade clutched at the medallion beneath his shirt and even through his gloves felt the ichor that drenched the area.

Once more, the spellwork had been disrupted.

He tried to cast both of them away, but the protective spells of the dwarven caverns still prevented that. Valea gestured toward the doors and the bolt suddenly slid open.

Go!
she mouthed. When he hesitated, the enchantress gestured again . . . and Shade found himself sliding through just as the doors opened.

Shouts arose within, but whether they had to do with his unplanned flight or the Necri, he could not say. Shade continued to slide for several yards before Valea’s spell ended.

A part of the sorcerer cried for him to flee, but another part demanded that he go back for her. However, until he could reestablish the medallion’s power, his presence near Valea would only condemn her. She still had a chance if he could stay clear.

With reluctance, the sorcerer started down the passage. However, barely had he gone a few yards when he felt an immense tug back.

The Crystal Dragon’s other spell still held. Shade could go little farther. Each succeeding step proved more and more an ordeal. He was grateful that he was still in the fairly unused corridor, for at the moment he would have been hard-pressed to confront any foe.

What games do you play, Dragon King?
Shade silently swore as he tried to decide his next move.
Do you want the tower or not?

He could think of only one recourse. Cabe Bedlam’s daughter would be furious, but that was a minor point at the moment.

Shade focused on the enchantress.

“Ungh!” Valea Bedlam materialized crouched as if about to fend off some attack. She froze for the space of a breath as the abrupt change in location struck her.

He seized her hand just as she turned in his direction. “Come! This way!”

“What’re you doing? You should’ve fled when you could!”

“The Dragon King’s spell!”

Her expression indicated that she had also forgotten it. “Where do we go, then? We can’t simply transport ourselves out of here!”

“No, but we may be able to move around within the caverns.” Shade hesitated, glad for the moment that his curse hid his features. “There may be a reason why we ended up here. I believe our devious ally wanted us brought into the dwarven realm.”