Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

XII

Cabe woke to the jarring sight of a Quel face looming over him. The long snout was mere inches from his own countenance. The warlock’s nose wrinkled; the Quel’s breath was putrid.

His head was suddenly filled to bursting with overlapping images. Cabe gasped, put his hands on his head, and tried to shut the sensations out. He saw himself, the wolf raiders, the Quel, a vague image that must be the Crystal Dragon, a beach . . . there was just too much!

“Stop! I can’t take it all in!”

Mercifully, the Quel presence in his head withdrew. As he regained control of his senses, the weary spellcaster sat up and surveyed his surroundings. They were in a small cavern with only one exit, an exit guarded by yet another of the underdwellers. Cabe counted three Quel in all, but then he realized that the third, off to the far side of the chamber, was slumped over. A single image touched his mind, confirmation from the one near him that their companion was dead and had been so for some time.

He wondered how long he had been unconscious. Cabe had faint memories of being pulled under, of watching the earth fill in above him. He recalled little else after that, for something had caused him to pass out.

The Quel inquisitor reached out and pointed by the warlock’s right hand. Cabe looked down and saw a gem. He vaguely recalled it having been in his hand when the images had first struck him. He nodded understanding to the armored leviathan and picked it up.

Injury . . . urgent need . . . question?

The combination of images, sensations, and emotions was as close as the Quel could come to speaking in the human tongue. Cabe was aware of the communication crystal and found it a fascinating tool, but it took careful thinking to sometimes decipher what was meant. It was possible for the Quel to communicate to him without it, but then the images would have been less detailed and many of the projected sensations would have failed to even reach his mind.

They want to know if I’m injured in any way. He shook his head. Considering that any injury would have been the Quel’s doing, Cabe was not entirely impressed by the subterraneans’ concern. Still, it was unusual that they should place any importance in his well-being, unless they wanted something from him.

Something involving the wolf raiders?

The images projected by the one Quel, a female, if the warlock was correct, shifted almost the instant he formulated the question. Although the question had merely been for his own contemplation, the Quel answered as best she could.

Black shells . . . defenders . . . the hungry magic . . . defeat . . . the city lost . . . statement.

Statement. The manner by which the creatures communicated made the reply sound almost matter-of-fact until one stared into the dark, inhuman eyes of the Quel and saw the loss there. Her city, the Quel city, was in the hands of the Aramites, who had used some sort of magic spell to nullify the defenses. She and a few like her had escaped capture, he imagined. There were only a few Quel at any time and so they had not had the resources to completely combat a foe as determined as the wolf raiders. If they had, he suspected that the raiders would have found themselves in the midst of one of the worst hand-to-hand struggles they had ever come across. One Quel was worth more than a few human soldiers any day, no matter how well trained the latter were.

Black shells . . . hunt . . . too few . . . statement.

He saw them hunting down a lone guard every now and then, but such attacks were not enough. One by one, the secrets of their cities fell into the hands of the invaders.

Cabe stiffened. “What about-”

The response was swift. Sacrifice . . . hidden . . . suspicious but unable to find . . . safe . . . for now . . . danger in thought . . . statement.

Their greatest secret was safe, but the Aramites were thorough. They might at any time find it. The Quel did not even wish to think about that, for fear that doing so might somehow bring the discovery to pass. Cabe received a swift, curt look from the female who told him there would be no more questions on that matter.

He had no delusions that the underdwellers saw him as anything more than a means to an end. Their concern was for their own kind; they saw in him only someone who shared an obvious interest in seeing the black shells, as they called the raiders, gone from the Dragonrealm.

“You don’t make cooperation very enticing,” he bluntly informed his captor. “What difference would it make for me to help you?”

A single image of a tall, opaque sphere flashed into his mind.

For the first time, Cabe recalled Plool. The Quel still had the Vraad hidden away and were attempting to use him as a bargaining chip. It almost made the warlock want to laugh. In one respect, there was a temptation to leave the Vraad where he was, for it would be the best way to ensure that he caused no further chaos with his Nimth-spawned magic.

Cabe knew he could do no such thing, though. Even Plool deserved a chance. Also, the Aramites were a deadlier threat to the continent, at least now. The Dragonrealm had survived centuries of Quel, confined as they were to only a few wandering above and below the surface of Legar. The raiders would never settle for that. They would seek to rebuild their power base. He was certain that other ships sailed the sea, other ships seeking a new port. The longer the wolf raiders had, the deeper they would be entrenched.

He would work with the Quel for as long as it was safe, but he knew better than to trust them. “What about the one who was with me? What about your prisoner?”

The answer was short, succinct, and proof that this was meant to be no partnership but rather a situation demanding his complete obedience to their cause. Cabe lost whatever little sympathy he might have ever had for his captors. Memories of his past experiences with the Quel returned to him. They were vivid and sometimes painful memories.

The warlock wished it were possible for him to just forget Plool, but he was not that sort of person . . . and the underdwellers certainly had to be aware of that.

His inquisitor rose and indicated he should follow suit. Rising stiffly, the wary mage followed the Quel to the tunnel mouth. The other creature, taller and definitely a male, waited until the two had passed before joining. The male moved with some stiffness, as if working with muscles long unused. The Quel were careful to keep him sandwiched in between, he noted. A brief touch with his mind also indicated that they were doing what they could to stifle his magical abilities, but their strength was not enough to completely disable him. His mind already shielded so that the gemstone he still had to carry would not betray him, Cabe pondered his possible options. Down here, his sorcery appeared to work, but what would happen if he tried to teleport to the surface? Could he do it safely? More to the point, did he have the concentration and strength to even perform the spell? He doubted it. Still, he was fairly certain he would be able to defend himself when it came time for the Quel to turn upon him.

The warlock wondered what he would do about Plool when that happened.

As they walked, Cabe, with growing curiosity, carefully studied the tunnel. It was a claustrophobic thing, not at all like the larger passages he recalled from his earlier encounters. There was barely room enough for one of the diggers to pass. More important, after the first few steps, the only sources of illumination became the occasional crystal embedded in the walls. They were of the same type as those in the vast tunnels, but so scattered and so few, it was as if they had been added only recently and with great haste.

This is a new tunnel. Very new. “Where are we going?”

He received no response from his companions. The more he thought about it, the more they seemed to be growing increasingly anxious. The warlock did not find that comforting. Anything that worried the Quel surely had to be fearsome.

There was only one thing he could think of that would put such uneasiness into the minds of his captors. One creature.

Only the Crystal Dragon.

They wouldn’t! That would be suicidal!

Unfortunately, he could think of no other explanation. Cabe had intended on seeking out the lord of Legar, but now that he was possibly on his way to do just that, the idea had turned sour. Who was to say that the Crystal Dragon might not find his intrusion just as irritating as that of the wolf raiders? What had he been thinking? One could not just walk up and ask to see the Dragon King!

But that was what the Quel intended him to do. He knew that the moment they came to the end of the tunnel. Before him was a vast cavern that glittered so great that he had to shield his eyes for several seconds before they finally became accustomed to the brilliance. Gemlike stalactites and stalagmites, looking much like the jagged teeth of some great beast, dotted the cavern. The faceted walls reflected themselves again and again and again, an infinity of cold, gleaming beauty. Cabe began to sweat heavily, but not because of fear. The heat in the cavern was ghastly and when he stared at the floor, which was also of crystal, he knew why. Some subterranean source of heat buried deep beneath was what turned the chamber into an oven. It even gave the floor a reddish tinge. It was not enough to make travel across impossible, but the warlock did not intend to stand on any one spot too long.

What he saw beyond the chamber made him forget the heat. Carved into the far wall was a temple that, in many ways, resembled the Manor, a place that Cabe wished he had never left. Columns rose high, at least two stories. There were three doorways. Symbols that the warlock did not recognize formed an arc over each of them. Cabe knew that the work was very, very old, but it was still in immaculate condition. A sense of ancient power radiated from the temple.

He was on the threshold of the Dragon King’s inner sanctum.

The Quel in front of him shifted to the side. Journey . . . the crystal lord . . . (fear) . . . seeking an audience . . . statement!

So this was to be his role. They wanted him to do what they could not, namely face the Dragon King and seek his aid. The warlock found himself amused. He was expected to go where they refused to tread and seek aid on their behalf. It almost made him laugh aloud. Their capture of him must have been a lucky but desperate venture. It said something for their ability to plot under dire circumstances but little for their bravery.

The male took hold of his shoulders and shook him. New images danced in Cabe Bedlam’s head. Audience . . . the crystal lord in his sanctum . . . dispersing the floating death . . . driving the black shells back into the sea . . . statement!/question?

It took him time to decipher the last. The message was evidently a list of requests the Quel had for the Crystal Dragon, requests that they wanted Cabe to make. From the way the male gripped him, he knew that even the very thought of asking the drake lord for such aid unnerved the subterraneans. They deeply feared the might of the Crystal Dragon . . . and Cabe could hardly blame them for that.

He was prodded from behind. The Quel would not join him on this last part of the trek. They would trust that their captive would make the warlock do what they wanted. It had probably never occurred to them that Cabe might have gone even without a threat.

Slowly he entered the gleaming chamber. What wonders the underground recesses of Legar held. It was amazing that the surface of the place did not collapse, considering how extensive the world beneath was. Of course, more than a little of it had been carved by intelligent hands, not the forces of nature. Those hands had made quite certain that their efforts would not end up buried in rubble.

Cabe still found it amazing, nonetheless.

The temperature was steady, which was fortunate. He still found he had to loosen the top of his robe. It was bad if not worse than being on the surface during noontime.

The walk across passed without incident, although at one point the Quel hooted something. He turned, but even holding the gem, he could not understand what they wanted. They did not appear to want him to return, so Cabe finally turned back to the glistening temple and continued on.

It was not until he stood before the carved structure that he discovered a problem. While there were indentations representing windows and doorways, none of them were real entrances. As far as he could see, the temple was nothing more than a vast relief.

There must be something! He stared at his reflection, distorted by the multifaceted surface, and thought. The Quel would not have sent him to this place if they had not believed it to be a way to the Crystal Dragon. Yet if they were too frightened to come this far, then perhaps none of their kind had ever journeyed close enough to see that this was no more than some sculptor’s masterpiece. It hardly seemed possible, but . . .

“Who seeks passage?”

The voice, piercing, echoed all around him. Cabe stepped back from the temple and as he did an astonishing thing happened, for his distorted reflection, instead of copying his movements, stepped forward. Not only did it step forward, but it left the confines of the wall and continued toward him.

“Who seeks passage?” This time, it was definitely his macabre reflection that spoke.

“I do,” Cabe responded, finally able to find his own voice.

Although the crystal golem-the warlock could find no better term for what faced him-looked his way, the eyes did not exactly fix on him. Rather, they appeared focused behind him, perhaps on the Quel. “You alone seek passage?”

“I alone seek passage, yes. I would speak with the Crystal Dragon.”

The guardian was silent. It was eerie to stare at himself, especially a self who was twisted and jagged. Cabe reached up to rub his chin in thought, a habit he had long had, and watched bemused as the reflection followed the same course. Cabe wondered what the creature would do if he started to dance.

An eternity passed before the golem finally said, “You may pass through.”

Cabe glanced beyond the golem. He saw no doorway. “Where do I go?”

The guardian looked at him with vacant eyes. “Follow.”

He began walking backward.

After a moment’s hesitation, the warlock obeyed. The crystal creature had no trouble walking backward, but the sight made Cabe stumble twice. He kept waiting for a passage to open in the temple wall, but nothing changed. As the guardian reached the wall, Cabe braced himself for the collision.

The golem melted into the crystal.

The warlock froze, uncertain as to what to do now. He stared at his reflection. Almost it seemed to be waiting for him.

Its mouth opened. “Follow.”

“Follow?”

“Follow yourself if you would enter,” was the only explanation he received.

He thought he understood, but that made it no easier. Nodding, Cabe focused on his reflection, tensed, and walked forward.

He closed his eyes just before he would have hit the wall and so he was never exactly sure what happened next. Instead of a harsh, very solid wall, the anxious mage walked into a substance that reminded him of syrup. Gritting his teeth, he continued through it. The voice of the guardian urged him on now and then. Despite being surrounded by the odd substance, the warlock had no difficulty breathing. That in no way meant that the crossing was easy on him. He was reminded of Gwen, who had been trapped in an amber prison by his father, Azran, and left there for nearly two hundred years. The thought of being so imprisoned sent a chill down his spine.

When his hand broke through to empty space, Cabe sighed in relief.

Only when he was free did he dare open his eyes. He did not look around but rather spun back and faced the wall through which he had passed. The warlock stared at it. To the eye, it was as it should have been, a crystal-encrusted barrier of rock. There was no passage and when he touched it, he felt only what one would expect to feel. Rock.

“If you are finished, huuuman . . .”

A drake warrior stood waiting for him in the new chamber, a drake warrior like none he had ever seen. Thin, glittering, his skin armor was an array of multifaceted jewels, not all of them the same color. There were deep greens, sunlit golds, ocean blues, and so much more. When the drake moved, it was a graceful movement, almost as if the creature were a dancer, not a fighter.

“Your Majesty?”

The flat, half-seen reptilian visage broke into a thin-lipped smile. “I will take you to him.”

Cabe reddened slightly. He should not have assumed. It might be a mark against him now. The Dragon King might take umbrage at being mistaken for one of his mere subjects.

His new guide led him along a well-worn path that, like all else here, spoke of incredible age. Most everything down here had been built long before the Dragon Kings; Cabe was certain of that. He wondered if the Quel had built it. Possibly. Then again, they, too, might have come across it and decided to simply move in. Some additions looked more recent than others. Differences in style could be seen here and there. Everything gleamed, but fortunately not with too great an intensity.

They passed only two other drakes, both warriors like the first. He wondered how small the clan was. Some drake clans were larger than others. The Ice Dragon had sacrificed the last of his people for his master spell and several other clans had been more or less decimated over the past couple decades by their struggles with each other and the humans, but some, like Green and Blue, were actually increasing in number for the first time in generations. Cabe doubted that this particular clan was large. Legar could not support so many. Their principal source of food would have to come from the sea, for life was not abundant enough here. True, there were things that grew well under the surface, but these were dragons he was speaking of, which meant they needed meat of some sort.

Their journey ended before the mouth of another tunnel. Two warriors flanked each side of the mouth. Within, Cabe could make out only darkness.

His guide turned to him. “He awaits within, Cabe Bedlam.”

“You know who I am.”

“He knew. I simply obey.” With that, the drake abruptly turned from him and walked away.

One of the guards used a lance to indicate that he should enter. Putting on a mask of resolve, the warlock stalked past the sentries and stepped into the darkness before hesitation got the better of him. It was not, he was grateful to see, like crossing through the wall. Instead, the moment he was through the entranceway, the darkness was burned away by a brilliant illumination. Cabe blinked, found himself blinded again.

“There isss an object in front of you, Cabe Bedlam. Pick it up. Itsss purposssse will become apparent to you.”

The blinded warlock reached down, then recalled that he was still holding the Quel device. He started to pocket it, but a warning hiss made him halt.

“You have no more need of that. Drop it.”

Cabe did . . . and a second later heard a crackling sound, as if something were melting. He did not dare try to look, but rather searched for the vague shape of the object the voice had mentioned. His hands came upon a curved item that upon very close inspection proved to be a visor of sorts. It was designed to be worn over the ears like a pair of the glasses that were now fairly common among humans. Gingerly he put it on, blinked a few times, and let his eyes complete the task of adjusting.

Even with the visor on, the chamber still gleamed. Now, at least, he could see it . . . and also its lone inhabitant.

“Welcome to my domain, Massster Bedlam.”

He knew of the Crystal Dragon, knew what he looked like from the visions, but still Cabe was not completely prepared for the leviathan.

The lord of Legar was possibly the largest of the Dragon Kings he had ever seen. Like his counterpart Blue, however, the Crystal Dragon was sleeker than some of the others. Yet it was not size that so overwhelmed the warlock. Neither was it the image of a dragon who seemed carved from the very crystal he took his title from. The drake warriors had dazzled Cabe’s eyes enough, but their monarch positively blinded. In fact, it was the Crystal Dragon who so made the room blinding.

What overwhelmed him was the age. There was no particular thing that indicated it, but staring at his host, Cabe knew that here was the oldest of the present Dragon Kings. Even older than Ice, who had claimed the mantle of age often. It was said that the drake lords tended to live a thousand years at best, mostly because of the violent world of their kind. The warlock doubted that any of the other Dragon Kings were more than seven hundred years old. They might have the potential for long lives, but the drakes always found conflicts to kill themselves in . . . much the way humans did. Unfortunately for the drakes, their kind did not multiply as quickly as Cabe’s race did.

Sharp diamond wings spread. The huge head dipped down so as to better observe the tiny human. “You have ssssought me, Cabe Bedlam, and I have given you an audience. Do you now intend to ssssimply sssstare for that time?”

It did not help that no matter where he looked, all he saw was either the reflected image of the Dragon King’s unique countenance or that of his own, uncertain visage. Each face was distorted. He felt as if they all watched him, awaiting his response.

“Your pardon, Your Majesty. This is, I hope you’ll understand, much to take in.”

“Isss it?” An unreadable look crossed the draconian features.

Try as he might, Cabe could not completely calm himself down. This chamber was by far the most daunting. It served some distinct purpose, a purpose that he could not help but think that the Dragon King was trying to hide from him. All this blazing brilliance, brought forth by the drake lord himself, was meant to distract. The warlock was not certain how he had come to that conclusion, just that it made some sense when he viewed the chamber and its lord as a whole.

“It is,” he finally answered. Clearing his suddenly dry throat, Cabe continued. “You must know, my lord, that even though it was the Quel who led me here, I would have come to request an audience with you regardless.”

“Then you are here about the black plague sssswarming over my realm.” The Dragon King shifted. Although he pretended control, his movements looked forced to his human guest, as if the crystalline monarch was trying too hard to appear confident. The drake lord’s entire body spoke of a creature at war within. Even his disinterested tone was too perfect.

What goes on here? This was not what Cabe had expected. “I am, yes. You should know. It is your summons that brought me here in the first place.”

“My what?” The reptilian eyes widened. Almost it seemed that fear was the dominant emotion, but Cabe could not believe that was possible. What could frighten the Crystal Dragon?

“Your . . . summons. The vision and the dream.”

“Visions . . . dreams?” Lifting his head high, the glittering leviathan turned his gaze toward the walls. The Dragon King had an apparent fascination for his reflections, but not because of any vanity. The mage watched him closely. Although he had only been in the Dragon King’s presence for a minute or two, Cabe was already beginning to worry about the drake lord’s sanity.

“You didn’t send them?” Cabe asked after a long silence had passed.

Instead of answering his question, the Crystal Dragon quietly ordered, “Tell me of the visions.”

Having few options, the worried spellcaster did that. He described his first experience and how he had shrugged it off. Then Cabe described the dream and how Aurim had also been affected. At that the reptilian monarch glanced his way, but the images soon snared him again. Cabe concluded with the vision he had suffered while recuperating in the hills of Esedi. When his tale was complete, the warlock waited for some comment.

Another long silence ensued, but at last the Crystal Dragon gazed down at him. The look in those great, inhuman orbs was enough to make Cabe Bedlam stiffen. There was sanity in them, but not much.

“I did not ssssummon you, warlock . . . or perhapssss I did.”

“I don’t understand.” Why did it feel like he was always saying that? The frustrated sorcerer wondered if anyone understood what happened in the Dragonrealm. Sometimes it was as if life was but a game. A macabre game.

The great dragon unfurled and furled his wings over and over again. The talons of his forepaws gouged deep into the floor. Cabe looked around and realized that the chamber had grown darker.

“No . . . you wouldn’t. No one would, warlock. That issss my bane, the ssssword that hangssss over my head. No one understands what I live with.” The cold tones only added to the image of a creature slowly going mad. “I thought of ssssummoning you, Master Bedlam, thought of it but did not.” He looked away from the tiny human and studied the chamber from wall to ceiling. “To thissss place, though, ssssuch a thought wassss good enough.” The Crystal Dragon hissed. “Away with you!”

Cabe’s first inclination was that his audience had come to an abrupt end, but it was not he to whom the drake lord roared the command. Fascinated, the warlock watched as the images all around him faded away. The crystalline walls dulled. They no longer reflected. The illumination also faded, albeit not completely.

“I ssssometimes think it hassss a mind of its own,” the dragon murmured. He continued to stare at the now blank walls. “I ssssometimes think that the chamber controlsss me and not the other way.” The Crystal Dragon laughed in self-mockery. “Ironic if true, would you not say?”

The warlock kept quiet. Noticing the lack of response, the behemoth tilted his head so that he could see his human guest out of the corner of his eye. “It takesss my thoughtsss, Cabe Bedlam, and makessss them reality. I can ssssee anything, any place, any persssson in the Dragonrealm with the aid of thissss chamber. It showssss me the world ssso that I do not have to risssk myself and venture out.

“But there isss another sssside to it. Another side. It issss not ssssatisfied with my direct commandsss, no! It mussst have my deeper thoughtssss, my sssleeping thoughtsss!”

The massive drake stirred. Cabe wanted to step back, but something within told him it would behoove him to stay where he was. He had to maintain a strong front. “So you thought of summoning me but did not.”

The Dragon King quieted at the sound of his voice. Cabe’s calm provided him with an anchor for his sanity. “I thought of you more than once, recalling your part in the sssstruggle with the dragon lord Ice.”

Which might explain why there had been more than one vision. Perhaps each time the drake had thought of him, a vision had been sent. So he had journeyed here under a misconception. The dragon had not called him, but rather only thought about doing so. If he understood his host, then the chamber had taken his desire for Cabe’s aid and acted upon it even after the Dragon King had chosen otherwise.

“I understood some of what I saw, but some of the images made no sense. The men in dragon-scale armor; what does it have to do with the wolf raiders?”

“Nothing!” snapped the Dragon King. Then, realizing how he had reacted, he withdrew into himself. “Nothing. A twisssting of random thoughtssss and dreamsss. Nothing to concern you.”

Perhaps or perhaps not, Cabe thought. Whether or not it concerned him, it appeared he would receive no clarification from his host and the warlock had no intention of pressing the subject. He had no way of predicting what the Dragon King’s reaction would be then.

“Then you don’t require my aid?”

A pause. “I am the Crystal Dragon.”

He knew what the drake lord’s response was supposed to imply, but the hesitant manner in which it was spoken belied that implication. The Crystal Dragon was trying to hide something and failing miserably. Yet Cabe dared not make mention of that fact. It would be far too easy for his host to take out whatever frustrations and fears he had on the warlock.

“Your Majesty-”

“I have the ssssituation in hand, mage! That issss your ansssswer; be sssatisfied with it!”

“I only had a question, Your Majesty.” When the Dragon King said nothing, Cabe dared push on. “Was it you who unleashed this deadly fog upon your own kingdom?”

His first thought was that he had indeed stepped over the line, for the Dragon King rose to his full height and hissed loudly. The chamber grew stifling. The leviathan spread his wings wide; his talons sliced at the air before him. He thrust his head toward the human, stopping only a yard from Cabe. The warlock struggled to maintain his composure even though every fiber screamed for him to run. Cabe did not consider himself a brave soul in the heroic sense of the word. He remained where he was basically because he knew that to run would be futile. Better to face a threat than turn one’s back on it.

“I releasssed it, Cabe Bedlam! I releasssed the foulness upon my own domain and it isss my resssponsssibility!”

“But to even call upon a shadow of Nimth’s dec-”

“Nimth?” The Crystal Dragon recoiled as if Cabe had just informed him that he carried plague or some other dire disease.

Could he have not known? It was not a simple task to read those draconian features. There was fear there, but of what only the Crystal Dragon knew. “Yes, Nimth, Your Majesty. A world lost in time, ever dying. There was a race of sorcerers there, a race called the Vraad. They-”

“I know what they were! I know better than you!” The glittering behemoth shifted yet closer. “I know all there issss to know about their foul ways! Did you think I wanted to do this?” Again, the Dragon King looked away. His stentorian voice grew softer. “I knew what it wassss I would unleash. I have alwayssss lived with that. But it issss only a shadow, assss you mentioned. A shadow! No ssssubstance!” He quieted yet again. “But I fear it will not sssstop them. They will be sssslowed, but not defeated. You are correct to be fearful of it. I dared let it go no further than I did, lessst ssssomething else come through. Things of Nimth wreak only deadly havoc in this world.”

Cabe took a deep breath. He had to tell the Crystal Dragon. Only the lord of Legar could possibly send Plool back. It would not solve the problem of the wolf raiders, but it would prevent the Vraad from possibly causing further chaos. That, they did not need. If Plool could have been trusted, Cabe might have held his tongue, but Plool could not be and the warlock knew that.

“You . . . did let something through, Your Majesty. Someone, I should say.”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed. There was the slightest tremor in his voice, a tremor that shocked the mage despite all he had already noted about his terrible host. “What . . . did . . . you . . . say?”

“A creature . . . a man . . . of Nimth came through when you opened the way. A . . .” Would the Dragon King know enough about the history of Nimth? So far, it sounded as if he might know even more than the warlock did. “A Vraad sorcerer.”

“You lie! The Vraad are dead and forgotten! I know! I-” The gleaming titan’s denial ended in a roar that echoed again and again throughout the chamber. Cabe was forced to cover his ears. This time, he was certain that the Dragon King had lost permanent control. This time, there would be no escaping the obvious madness of the drake lord.

Yet . . . yet, the Crystal Dragon did calm. It was as if a different creature were abruptly there before Cabe, a creature more cold, fatalistic.

Like the Ice Dragon? He hoped it was not so. One of the few reasons that the Dragonrealm was not a dead, frozen waste was the leviathan before him. If the Crystal Dragon was now mad in the same manner as his counterpart to the far north had been, then the wolf raiders might become the least of the continent’s worries.

“Wheeeerrre? Where issss it?” A scarlet, forked tongue flickered forth. “Where isss the Vraad?”

Cabe was regretting his idea now. He did not want to hand even someone like Plool over to the dragon; yet he had committed himself. “The Quel have him. If you could send him back . . .”

“Ssssend it back? Sssend the monstrosity back?” The Dragon King’s maw snapped shut. He closed his eyes for a brief time. When he finally opened them, the Dragon King nodded and said, “You are correct, of coursssse, Cabe Bedlam. That would be for the best. Requiring little in effort, yesss.”

“Can you take him from the Quel?” The warlock was startled to find himself asking such a question. He had grown up always believing that if any one of the present Dragon Kings was omnipotent, it was the Crystal Dragon. A few Quel should have required the least of his power.

Here the titan recovered his aplomb a bit. “I do not have to take him. They will give him to me.”

The chamber gleamed. The crystalline walls were alive with not only the Dragon King’s reflection but the mage’s as well. The drake lord stared at one of the walls and suddenly the reflections melted away, becoming other images. They were images of another cavern, a place where a single Quel toyed with a device. The vision of the Quel was repeated from a thousand different angles and distances, but mixed in with those images was a more important one that Cabe focused on. The sphere that held Plool.

He frowned. It had a reddish tinge to it. It was the same sort of reddish tinge he associated with heat. Were they trying to burn the Vraad alive?

The shimmering leviathan leaned toward that particular vision. “He isss mine.”

A host of identical Quel jumped as if bitten. A legion of startled, identical countenances looked around in panic. Cabe took some small satisfaction. He had no more sympathy for the Quel plight.

The Crystal Dragon spoke again. “You will give him to me.”

The images faded away. Cabe blinked as he watched his own face multiply over and over across the chamber walls. No matter where he looked, he saw only his own uncomprehending visage.

“Hold out your handssss, mage.”

Cabe obeyed.

“You hold the doorway to damnation.”

In the warlock’s hands was the very sphere that Plool had led him to atop the hill. It had not been taken by the Quel, the Crystal Dragon had summoned it back to him. He tensed, fearful that his grip might slip and send the fragile-looking artifact to the hard floor. If the door was broken, all of Nimth would flow into the Dragonrealm.

The dragon saw his dismay. “Ssssimple clumsiness will not bring about the end of our world, Cabe Bedlam. It would take tremendoussss power to even sssscratch the surface of thissss toy. It would take more power than even that of a Vraad . . . or a hundred Vraad, if ssssuch cooperation wassss posssible.”

It was unnerving to know what he held in his hands, unnerving to know that what he saw within was an entire other world. It was a world that his ancestors had twisted beyond repair and then abandoned . . . most of them. Yet Nimth had struggled and had survived, if what Plool had become could be called an example of survival. He wanted to throw the horrific sphere away, yet at the same time he wanted to hold it tight so that nothing, no matter how remote, would threaten it.

“It issss time.”

With those words, the Vraad’s deadly prison formed between them. The reddish tinge that Cabe had noticed before was still there, but it looked older, like a mark left over from something that had already happened. Were they too late? Had the Quel acted as the Crystal Dragon had been tempted to do?

Cabe was no longer certain he wanted to see the contents of the tall sphere.

“Hold the artifact before you. Be prepared.”

For what? How? Why do those who say that never really explain?

The Dragon King eyed the spherical prison. He started to reach toward it, then hesitated. The reptilian nose wrinkled. Again, the Dragon King reached toward the sphere and again he paused. His expression went from wary expectation to puzzlement to growing fury.

“Thissss shell holdsss nothing! It issss barren!”

The warlock lowered the artifact in his arms. “Barren?”

“Empty.” Long, narrow eyes burned into the warlock’s own. “The Vraaaaad hasss essscaped!”

Cabe stared at the prison. He had misinterpreted the scorch traces. The marks were not the work of the Quel, but rather Plool himself working from within the trap. Both the warlock and his armored captors had underestimated the skills and tenacity of the eccentric Vraad.

“A Vraaaad loossse . . .” The Dragon King was talking to himself. “But I dare not . . . do I? I musssst . . . unlesssss . . .” He blinked and seemed to study Cabe anew. “Yessss . . .”

A taloned hand reached forth. The malevolent sphere tore free of the sorcerer’s grip and flew to its master. It came to a halt only a foot or two from the dragon’s snout and hovered there, waiting.

Cabe relaxed a little, realizing now that it was the device that had interested the Dragon King, not him. “What will you do?”

“What musssst be done. I musssst withdraw what I have unleashed. It will not sssstop . . . stop . . . the wolf raiders, but it will deal with that thing from Nimth!” Now that he had decided on a course of action, the Crystal Dragon sounded almost human in his speech patterns. There seemed no predicting how he would act from one moment to the next. Cabe hoped that this new attitude would remain for a time. “I must risk it. I will not allow that curse to reenter the world. When all that is Nimth is thrust back through the doorway, he will be weakened. He will be so weakened that the threat will become negligible!”

Weakened . . . with all traces of Nimth gone . . . What was it that bothered Cabe about that? Something about Plool and teleporting. Something . . . Of course! “Your Majesty, if you could hear me out. Instead of what you do, let me try to find Plool first. He can be made to see reason. If you do what you plan-”

“It will be done.” The finality in the drake lord’s voice left no room for compromise. In his eyes, a single Vraad was more a threat than a legion of Aramites. It almost appeared to be a personal vendetta, as if the Dragon King had dealt with Plool’s kind before. Could that be?

What was it that hid behind the mask that was the Crystal Dragon?

The glittering titan closed his eyes. Before him, the dark contents within the sphere shifted and turned. It was a trick of the eyes, of course. The artifact was only a doorway. Perhaps what the Crystal Dragon did disturbed some small area of Nimth, but he certainly could not control the entire world. That much was evident from his fear of anything Nimthian, especially a lone Vraad.

Cabe was torn. On the one hand, he wanted the madcap entity called Plool removed from his world because of what chaos the Vraad might be able to cause even restricted to this one region. On the other hand, the warlock despised what he considered murder. Plool was deadly, but Cabe would have preferred to try to turn the bizarre mage first. Plool was Plool only because of where he had been born.

He had to try again. If his words failed to convince the Dragon King, would he be tempted to action? Was everything else worth risking for a creature he barely knew? “Your Majesty?”

The Crystal Dragon did not hear him.

“Your-” Cabe Bedlam’s mouth clamped shut. Suddenly the walls surrounding them had come alive with faces, but not all the same. There were copies of his own, some of them older, some of them younger. He saw the face of the Gryphon and wondered at that. There were others, though, and with a start, Cabe eyed the face of what could only be one of the raider leaders. A tall man with a short beard, much like the wolf raider D’Shay, whom the Gryphon had killed years ago. His face was ghastly, a drawn, scarred thing. Yet, what bothered him most upon sighting that face was the expression, for in many ways it resembled a human variation of the present expression on the Dragon King’s reptilian countenance.

Then, among all the other faces, he saw one that made him forget even that of the wolf raider leader. It was a face he had seen only in a vision, but one that had remained with him. A bear of a man, a leader, who wore armor of dragonscale. It was the face of a conquerer, one who brooked no defeat. There was something so compelling about the figure, something that reminded him of Shade. It was the man he had thought of as his father when the vision had controlled him. It was . . . whose father?

Cabe stared at the entranced drake lord. The thought was ludicrous. It was.

Dragon Kings do not live that long . . . and he is a Dragon King at that.

The Crystal Dragon hissed and his eyes flew open. His gaze shifted from the sphere to the wall . . . and to the image of the gaunt, scarred figure that Cabe had taken for the Aramite commander. Their eyes seemed to lock.

The sphere exploded.