Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

IX

They’re back! Valea’s heart rose as she heard the rattle of wagons and the voices raised in cheerful greeting. Ursa, sitting beside her, glimpsed the expression on her companion’s face, but said nothing. Valea knew that the drake was aware of how her human friend felt about her brother. Ursa herself associated little with either male. Drakes were more divisive; females tended to associate with females and males with other males, save in matters of mating, of course. That was changing as living among humans affected the drakes here, but the change was a slow one that would need generations.

Ursa had never spoken against Valea’s desires, which the young sorceress had decided meant that while she might not approve, the drake was also not going to interfere. That was probably for the best. The novice witch would have felt terrible if the friendship the two had developed over the years was destroyed by this.

She waited for Ursa to rise, but when the drake made no move to do so, Valea finally flung herself from her chair and rushed to the window. For the past few days, she had spent nearly all of her free time either in her chambers or in the gardens-anywhere that allowed her seclusion. Other than Ursa and the very understanding Benjin Traske, she found the company of others to be cloying, especially when that other was Aurim, who seemed to think that while he was in charge he was their father and mother combined. Around other folk she could not let her thoughts drift, could not dream of Kyl and the future she wanted.

Now she did not have to dream. Kyl was back . . . and in triumph, of course. Valea had expected no less from him. She peered out the window and watched as the caravan entered the Manor grounds.

There he was! Riding at the forefront. Father and Lord Green rode with him. Valea’s mother and Grath close behind. Kyl was in high spirits. Everyone seemed to have a smile on their faces, although her father’s was slight. Even Darkhorse was there, but the eternal’s presence did not thrill her as much as it had when she had been younger. She still loved the shadow steed’s company, but being what he was, he could never understand the emotions coursing through her. It was very likely that if she told him of her dreams, of her belief that Kyl might flout everything and make her his bride and queen, Darkhorse would act just like her parents. Everyone knew that he despised drakes.

“Do you see them?” asked Ursa, finally coming to the window.

“Yes! There they are!”

Her alluring companion followed Valea’s gaze. “Things certainly seem to have gone well.”

Ursa’s perfect profile caused a brief twinge of jealousy in the young witch. She was aware how beautiful and exotic the drake seemed to males of both races. Then she consoled herself with the thought that to Kyl she was exotic. He was used to the magical splendor of female drakes and Ursa was, after all, his sister. Besides, was it not to Valea that Kyl paid the most attention? If he did not think her beautiful, then he would not have continually pressed for her favor.

Before he left for Penacles, Valea hoped to make the handsome drake admit his love.

“I want to go downstairs!”

“To be there to greet your parentsss?”

Her intention had been to be where Kyl could not fail to see her, but Ursa’s pointed question struck home. Valea was not on very good terms with her mother and father. The long and very boring lecture her mother had given to her just before departing for Talak had only underscored that. Now would be the best time to start mending that relationship. She loved them both, and even though they were wrong to think so badly of Kyl and her, Valea did not want to lose them. It would be terrible enough when they discovered that their protests had gone for naught.

A horrible notion occurred to her as she and Ursa departed the room. What would happen if Kyl did not acknowledge her? What would she do then?

It was too monstrous to imagine. Besides, Scholar Traske had almost sworn an oath to her that Kyl returned her love. Somehow, their love would come to pass. Kyl would be able to make it so. After all, as Dragon Emperor, he would be wielding more power than any other single being. He would make everyone accept her as his love.

Valea did not question her extravagant dreams. To her, that was the way things would occur. To have the future follow any other path was unthinkable.

They were down the stairway and at the outer doors of the Manor before she even realized it. The short trip down the steps and across the grounds to where the rest of the Manor’s inhabitants stood cheering passed even more quickly.

She chose a location ahead of the slow-moving caravan. A gap opened as people realized she was there. Valea halted as she reached the forefront, then tried to pretend that she had not run most of the way. Ursa joined her a moment later, looking just a little dismayed at the behavior of her friend. Valea ignored her completely, for Kyl was just riding into view.

He was talking with the Dragon King when suddenly his eyes swerved her direction. Valea fought down her emotions, not wanting to seem like a giddy little girl. The Dragon King followed Kyl’s gaze, but what he thought was insignificant to her. She was only interested in the handsome figure riding at the forefront.

Kyl smiled at her. Valea vaguely noted a greeting from Grath.

The riders reined their mounts to a stop. Stable hands rushed to take control of the animals. Kyl and the others dismounted, including the young Lady Bedlam’s parents. Steeling herself, Valea did not go directly to the drake, but rather greeted her mother and father first.

Of course, Aurim was already there. He had just finished hugging their father and was now doing the same with their mother. Valea was a little annoyed; trust her brother to be ready and waiting. She had wanted to be first, the better to impress upon them her desire to heal the rift that had spread between the three.

Father saw her first. He gave Valea a hesitant smile, which she returned. Truly, she hated arguing with them. It would have been so much easier if they could have gotten past their old prejudices and accepted her choice. Perhaps there was still time.

“Valea.” The blue-robed mage hugged his daughter. Without a word being spoken, the rift was suddenly closed. Cabe Bedlam could not stay angry at his daughter. Her father was like that. He had always been the easier of the two to deal with, the most willing to bend. That was not to say that he was not stern with her at times, but it was generally easier to sway her father than her mother.

The enchantress was already with her, arms encircling her daughter. Valea returned the warm greeting, adding a smile nearly identical to that of her mother. Whereas Aurim and their father somewhat resembled brothers, Valea had long ago come to grips with the fact that she and her mother would forever seem more like two nearly identical sisters. It was, admittedly, a tiny bit annoying to think that a male, especially Kyl, might find the elder Lady Bedlam more attractive, but fortunately that did not seem to be the case with the drake. He had already proven which of the Bedlam women he preferred. Besides, everyone knew that her parents were inseparable.

“How have things been?” her mother asked.

“Well enough.” There really was not more to say, but parents never seemed satisfied with such short responses. “I spent most of the time at my lessons or with Ursa.” There was enough truth in that answer to make her feel as if she had not been lying. Telling her parents that she had spent the last few days thinking only of Kyl would have quickly reopened the chasm.

“Welcome back, my lady.”

Valea had not realized that Ursa had followed her this far. She momentarily feared that her friend would betray her by expanding on the truth, but then Ursa simply repeated her greeting to Valea’s sire. The Lord and Lady Bedlam returned the drake’s welcome, which then seemed the end of the matter. The novice witch breathed a little easier.

Cabe Bedlam turned to talk to Aurim, no doubt wondering how her brother had fared in his role as lord of the manor. Valea desperately sought some reason to leave her mother. She wanted the chance to welcome Kyl back before he vanished to his rooms.

It was too late. Glancing in the drake’s direction, she saw that he, Grath, and Lord Green were already starting to walk away, the heir’s shadows, Faras and Ssgayn, close behind. Perhaps it would have been better after all to risk her folks’ ire by greeting Kyl first. Now her one opportunity was lost.

Then, the heir to the dragon throne looked her way.

The smile was there again, the smile that was just for her. Kyl did not pause, but the smile and the look in his eyes told Valea that he would see her before long.

Scholar Traske spoke true! she thought, barely able to keep her pleasure hidden. Her mother, though, was talking to one of the servants about some household matter and therefore missed the brief struggle. Even had the Lady Bedlam noted the flush of pleasure spreading across her daughter’s countenance, it was probable that she would have assumed that it had to do with her own return.

None of that truly mattered now. The novice sorceress had confirmation. Kyl truly did care for her.

“If you do not have need of me at thisss time, I would like to return to my kingdom immediately, my lord. There are duties I, too, must attend to.”

Grath nudged Kyl, whose attention had been on Cabe Bedlam’s fiery daughter. Pausing, the dragon heir gave the drake lord an understanding nod. “By all meansss, Lord Green! You of all here do not need to ssseek my permission!”

“It would be improper otherwise. Although the formalities must still be observed, you are my emperor. If there wasss any doubt, it was dispelled by your excellent behavior in Talak.”

Kyl basked in the compliment. “Thank you for sssaying ssso. When shall we be graced with your company again, Lord Green?”

“I shall return before it isss time to depart for Penacles, be assured of that. Asss to the exact day, that I cannot say.”

“There isss no need. Let me sssay before you go, that I am ever appreciative of your loyalty and guidance.”

The Dragon King bowed. “I do what I must, Your Majesty.”

Kyl and Grath watched as the Green Dragon departed, then continued on their way to their chambers, the two drake guards ever maintaining a respectful distance behind them. The heir turned to his brother. “Without Green’sss sssupport, none of thisss would have been possible, would you not sssay so, Grath?”

“It would have certainly been more difficult, but you would have overcome it, brother.”

“With your aid, perhapsss. I mussst again commend you for the wordsss and gift you sssuggested for the ceremony. They were perfect! Hisss Majesty King Melicard wasss overcome! I will have hisss sssupport now!”

“I merely made recommendations, Kyl. It was your execution of them that made it work.” Nevertheless, there was a smile on Grath’s visage.

“What would I do without you at my ssside, my brother?” The dragon heir put a companionable arm around his brother’s shoulders and smiled. “Talak wasss a sssuccess! Penaclesss will alssso be a triumph! With ssstrength from both drake and human elementsss, no one will quessstion my right to sssit upon my father’sss throne!”

“They would be foolish to do so now,” commented Grath. His face hardened. “But sssome will. There are always a few.”

“Asss long asss they are not ssstrong enough to caussse me any worry, Grath. You will sssee to that, will you not? I could trussst no one elssse ssso.”

The younger drake nodded thoughtfully. “As you wish, Kyl. Asss you wish.”

A formidable figure abruptly loomed before the drakes, but his presence brought slight smiles, not scowls, from Ssgayn and Faras. Grath immediately bowed in respect, and even Kyl could not resist a slight nod of his head. Benjin Traske had that effect on others, especially those who had been his pupils.

“I’m glad to see you back, lads,” rumbled the scholar. “I would have greeted you and the Lord and Lady Bedlam sooner, but I was ensconced in my chambers and did not know that you were back until a servant informed me.”

“There wasss no need, Ssscholar Trassske,” Kyl returned. “But it isss indeed kind of you to come to usss now. I am sssorry that you could not be with usss in Talak. Your fine inssstruction made all the difference, I mussst sssay.”

Traske chuckled. “You sound very much like the diplomatic monarch, Kyl, and I thank you. It pleases me to think that I might have had some small part in your success. A tutor always likes to see his pupils excel. When you have the opportunity, I would love to hear of your experiences.”

The thought of impressing his former tutor was enticing, but Kyl was a bit weary from the long trip. Besides, there were other things he needed to prepare for, not the least of them being a chance encounter with Valea. Of course, Kyl never left chance encounters to chance; he and Grath made them happen. The handsome drake had a suspicion of where the Bedlams’ daughter would be for the next hour or two, and he intended on stumbling on her at some point during that period.

As ever, it was Grath who stepped in to solve his dilemma. It was always Grath. Who else could it be? “I would be happy to relate our tale to you, Scholar Traske! It would give me the chance to ask you a few questions that I have about the mountain kingdom. I wasss amazed by it!” He waved his hands as he exclaimed the last. “Would that be satisfactory to you, Master Traske?”

“I would be delighted. You have time now?”

“I will make time. I’ve questions that cannot wait.”

“You should first perhaps make certain that your brother has no need of you,” Traske reminded Grath. “This is a crucial time for him. Your trip to Talak might be a thing of the past, but there is still Penacles to consider and the Dragon Kings afterward.”

Grath had always been the scholar’s most avid student. Kyl knew that the heavyset scholar enjoyed conversing with his former pupil. Grath also enjoyed the conversations, especially since Traske was a fount of information. Whenever there was a question that the younger drake could not answer-and those seemed to be becoming increasingly fewer-he would turn to the human who had taught them.

Had it been within his power, Kyl would have offered Benjin Traske a place in his empire, if only because between the human and his brother, he would have had the best counselors that any ruler could hope for.

Why not ask him at some point? The human had no plans once his role at the Manor was finished. His only pupils were Aurim and Valea, but Aurim was nearly finished with his lessons and Valea . . . well, perhaps that would be the final factor. Valea would need friends. There would be Ursa, but the witch would need more than one companion.

When Grath returned from this conversation with the human, Kyl would present the suggestion. His brother would know best whether they could trust Benjin Traske to be loyal to them when the time demanded it.

“By all meansss, he may go, Ssscholar Trassske! I have no need of him at thisss time. I have many things to attend to that will keep me busssy for the next few hoursss. If I have need of my brother, I know where to find him.”

“My gratitude, Kyl.” Benjin Traske bowed his farewell. Grath did the same, a barely perceptible nod following.

Left alone with Faras and Ssgayn, which was almost the same as being completely alone, Kyl contemplated his next move. He needed but a moment to refresh himself. It was true he was weary, but not weary enough to forget the importance of letting the exotic young witch know that he had not forgotten her. The glance he had been able to give her would keep her hoping, but it would be wise to follow with an actual meeting, even if it included her parents. All that was essential was to make her think that he had spent the entire visit to Talak thinking of her, which was, at least, half true. Valea was a prize he and Grath had worked long and hard to obtain, and Kyl knew that she was at last within his grasp.

She was both beautiful and a pleasure to be around, which only served to make each encounter that much easier for him, but those facts were secondary next to her greatest asset to the drake.

Valea was a Bedlam, a scion of the most powerful line of sorcerers. She was the daughter of Cabe Bedlam and the Lady of the Amber, an enchantress of vast might. The young witch had not yet displayed more than a fraction of the extraordinary power the line was known for, but everyone knew that the potential in her was possibly as great as it was in Aurim. If not, she could still pass the power of the Bedlam line on to her offspring.

His offspring. It was possible for the two races to interbreed, although how that could be was a question not even Grath was able to answer. Kyl knew that it was true only because his brother had come across evidence-evidence which Master Bedlam seemed to know about, too.

He realized that he had not moved from the spot where he had been standing when Grath and the scholar had left. Precious time was being wasted. Turning to his two shadows, he hissed, “Well? What are you two waiting for? Come!”

The two draconian warriors, looking properly chastised, hurried to keep pace as the dragon heir moved on. He would have to dismiss them before he located Valea. There was nothing romantic about two scowling lizards, which, in his opinion, was what the duo resembled. Kyl was quite pleased with his more human looks, mingled as they were with his draconian origins to create a unique, provocative appearance. Grath was the only one who resembled him at all, but even his brother’s looks were more rough-hewn than his own.

She could not fail to want him. All that really stood in his way was her parents, but Grath had assured him that they would be no trouble whatsoever.

Kyl had been careful not to ask how his brother could be so certain. He simply had faith that loyal Grath would do what had to be done . . . whatever that might be.

Things were at last calming down, and none too soon as far as Cabe Bedlam was concerned. The caravan was being dismantled and the Manor itself appeared in fine order. Aurim had only had control of the Manor for a short period of time, but the warlock was aware of how many things could go wrong in just one day. It was a wonder that the place was not more chaotic. Sometimes he thought that the ancient edifice itself watched over those who lived in it, much the way the Dragonrealm seemed to watch over its people. Yet, the mind of the Dragonrealm, assuming it had one, was a rather perverse one, for it seemed to take fondness in thrusting Cabe and his friends into one danger after another whereas the Manor simply seemed protective.

The Green Dragon had given his apologies and had departed only minutes after returning with the caravan. Cabe understood; the Dragon King had neglected his own realm for much too long already. Gwen and their offspring-it was growing impossible to call them children-were in the gardens talking about Talak, Darkhorse also adding a word here or there, but mostly just enjoying the companionship of his mortal friends. Aurim and Valea loved visiting the mountain kingdom, if only because the spectacle of the Tybers looming in the background was breathtaking. They also loved the strangeness of the city, having lived much of their lives in the relative calm of the Manor.

Cabe had left them in order to organize some notes Aurim had given him. One of the few peculiar things his son had reported to him was a sudden increase in the number of hauntings by the memories of the Manor. At first, Aurim had simply ignored them, but when three sightings had occurred in the same day, all suffered by the younger Bedlam himself, he had started to make a list. Almost all of the hauntings had occurred in the last three days, a record eleven. One had appeared as recently as last night. All but two had involved Aurim; the others had been seen by Valea.

Most of the visions were familiar ones. The archaic wedding ceremony. The Seeker landing on the terrace overlooking the gardens. A closed book with the symbol of a tree on it . . . which had always puzzled Cabe since it did not exist in the old library. A being who resembled a wolfman, probably of a race that had preceded not only the Dragon Kings but the Seekers and the Quel as well. All of these had been registered by the master warlock, some of them many times. But Aurim had experienced three first sightings as well, images that, especially in one particular case, his father would not have expected.

A Quel had stalked through the halls. Aurim had never seen one, but knew of them from his father’s tales. The huge, armadillolike race existed only in the very southwest of the continent, their once mighty empire reduced to a few ruined, underground enclaves. Cabe had never known them to exist this far east, although it made sense to think that at one time their empire had covered much of the continent the way the drakes’ or the Seekers’ had.

The massive, armored figure had been swinging an ax at something, but what it was Aurim could not say. He only knew that the beastman had been frightened out of his wits, and the last image of the Quel had been that of the monstrosity falling on his back in terror.

Sometimes it was sobering to think of all that must have happened in this place. Cabe had little desire to know what had attacked the Quel as long as it no longer existed to threaten his own family.

The second image had been barely glimpsed, but in his scribbled notes Aurim had described what sounded to Cabe vaguely like a sword slicing through the air. What that was supposed to represent, the sorcerer did not know. It was different from other images in that his son had sworn that, being so nearby when it had materialized, he had actually felt a slight wind as the blade had moved. To Cabe’s recollection, no other ghostly memory had ever proven even the slightest bit tactile.

Even that paled in comparison to the final new vision. It was the first of its kind that any of them had ever come across, and its existence shattered every theory that the master warlock or his wife had ever devised concerning the ghostly images.

Aurim had seen his father.

Cabe had joined the ghosts of the Manor.

The image was a very recent one. That, too, was unsettling. Aurim’s description of the short scene had registered in the elder Bedlam’s memory. It had taken place but a few days prior to their departure for Penacles. The occurrence had not been of any significant moment as far as he could see. It was merely Cabe using a knife to cut open a srevo, one of the lush fruits often found in the markets of Penacles and long a personal favorite of the sorcerer. Cabe was not one to use his power for something so simple as cutting up fruit. He considered such misuse both wasteful and criminal. That day, however, the black-haired mage wished that he had broken his cardinal rule.

Aurim’s description of what had followed was exactly as Cabe recalled it, save that much of the surrounding scene was missing. The vision revealed Cabe holding the large, round fruit and making the first cut. Then, as he had readied one half for another attack with his knife, something had caught his attention, making him turn as he lowered the sharp blade. In real life, that something had been Benjin Traske, come to ask a question about the then forthcoming trip to Talak. The interruption itself had been minor, but the warlock, eyes turned away, had cut into his thumb.

He still remembered the pain. The wound had not been deep, but surprise had amplified his agony. Cabe had no qualms about using sorcery to repair even the most minor injuries, particularly those causing him torment, and had healed it almost immediately. By the evening of that same day, he had forgotten all about the incident.

For some reason, though, the Manor had not.

And why is that? he wondered. The spectral images had never made sense to him. Why would the ghost of such a trivial incident be created? What logic did the Manor follow? Is there any logic? I keep assuming that there has to be, but who knows who built this place? They might’ve been mad, for all I know!

The situation was certainly insane enough. Cabe slumped back in his chair, willing to admit that after all these years he was no closer to understanding the magical citadel than he had been the first time he had entered it. It reminded him of the fact that the structure would probably still be standing long after he and his children had become nothing more than . . . memories?

A movement behind him quickly dispersed all thought of the Manor’s eccentric ways. Cabe pushed his chair back and turned, expecting one of his villagers. His eyes bulged as what should have been an impossible sight stood before him.

It was a drake warrior. His eyes searched the room with avid interest. He wore a cloak, and the dragon’s head crest on his helm was one of the most extravagant that Cabe could recall. The drake’s red eyes seemed to burn. His coloring was dull green mixed with touches of gold.

It was a drake warrior, one known to Cabe Bedlam.

It was Duke Toma.

Although to the warlock it seemed as if his reflexes had slowed almost to nothing, still he succeeded in gathering his power and striking at the deadly drake before Toma even seemed to notice him. A whirlwind formed around the reptilian invader, a funnel of dizzying speed that affected nothing else in the room, for its object was Toma and Toma only. At Cabe’s silent command, the tornado seized the sinister drake and threw him to the ceiling.

That is, it was supposed to throw him to the ceiling.

Toma stepped through as if not even noticing the whirlwind. His eyes still darted left and right, never seeming to focus on his foe. Cabe pointed a finger at the draconian figure’s armored chest. Sleek, black tendrils formed around the deadly duke’s upper torso, tendrils designed to pin the drake’s arms to his sides.

The tendrils tightened . . . and continued to tighten through Toma’s body.

“What-” Daunted but not defeated, Cabe began to rise from his chair. At the same time, Toma’s piercing eyes turned his way . . . and continued past, at last focusing on the wary sorcerer’s desk.

Only then did Cabe Bedlam realize that, if he stared hard, he could just barely make out the door through the chest of the drake.

An illusion? I’m fighting an illusion? He stumbled closer, still not positive that this was not a trick. Toma seemed to walk toward him, although after a moment Cabe decided the horrific duke was actually walking toward his desk. The warlock stepped to one side, studying the figure as it went past.

There was something familiar about the illusion. It was not a proper illusion, for if it had been, he would not have been able to see through it. Toma was a phantom, a ghost.

Ghost or not, the drake seemed very familiar with this chamber. He walked quickly to the shelves that held Cabe’s personal library, works that the warlock himself had gathered over the years, as opposed to the ancient library elsewhere in the Manor. As the specter searched the shelves, Cabe struggled to understand the madness happening before him. This was either a very elaborate hoax, a trick played by Aurim, perhaps, or . . .

Toma began to fade away. There was no warning. His form simply began to grow murkier and murkier and his movements slowed until they came almost to a halt.

It was the final confirmation. Everything about the ghostly drake screamed only one possible answer.

The Duke Toma before him was nothing more than one of the Manor’s phantom memories . . . and that could only mean that the deadly drake had paid a visit to the one place the warlock had believed was forever safe from him.

Toma in the Manor. It seemed impossible, but the proof was there. How, though? How could the draconian renegade have made his way past the defenses of the ancient structure?

There was also the question of when. Perhaps it was an old memory from the time when no one had actually lived in the Manor, a time when Gwendolyn had been a frozen prisoner in Azran’s amber cage and a trio of sinister female drakes had usurped the fabled place. The original spells protecting it had begun to deteriorate. Darkhorse had been unable to enter, but Cabe had stepped through without even really knowing what had happened. Of course, at the time, he had been bedazzled by the temptresses’ beauty, not realizing that he was to be their meal.

Could Toma have been here back then? It seemed a far more sensible conclusion, yet that reasoning held flaws, terrible flaws. The first and foremost of those was what the drake had been doing. Toma had walked to the desk, which was an addition of Cabe’s. The chamber had originally been devoid of any trace of furniture or other contents. Also, the monstrous figure had been inspecting the shelves, his eyes lingering on particular tomes.

The shelves and their contents were also additions made by the warlock. Before that, the wall had been bare.

He could not deny it any longer. Duke Toma had been in the study chamber searching through the knowledge that his rival had gathered over the years. How long ago, though? It could still have been years-but if so, why had the drake never struck at them? If there was anyone Toma desired to see dead, it was Cabe and Gwen.

Gwen . . . Valea and Aurim . . . Suddenly the warlock grew fearful for his family.

He had to know.

“. . . as I’ve said before, Valea,” his wife was remarking as he appeared in their midst. The trio paused in their conversation, eyes widening at the unexpected visitation.

“You’re all . . . right!” Cabe gasped, relief bubbling over. In truth, he had expected to find them prisoners of the drake . . . or even worse.

Gwendolyn was on her feet instantly. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Cabe! What’s wrong?”

Seeing them there, all concerned about his well-being, made his fears now seem laughable. Yet, Toma had invaded their sanctuary at some point in the past. That meant that there had been a threat to them . . . and, in fact, there might still be. The drake had never been one to pass up a golden opportunity.

He exhaled, forcing himself to relax. Only when he was certain of his control did the sorcerer permit himself to speak again. “Toma. It was Toma.”

“Toma? Where?” The emerald-clad enchantress warily scanned the grounds around them. Valea and Aurim looked worried but not panicked. Like their mother, they prepared themselves for the worst.

“Not here. Not now, Gwen. I don’t know when he appeared, but at some point in the past, Toma somehow invaded my study.”

“How do you know that?”

Cabe indicated Aurim. “When I went to the study with the notes Aurim had given me, the ones about the hauntings . . .”

“Your pet project.”

He nodded. “I was just considering the last one, the image of myself. I felt a prickling . . . or something. All I know is that when I turned around, Toma was standing behind me, eyeing the room the way a dragon eyes fresh meat. After looking around, he stalked toward the desk and the shelves above it.”

“And then?” No one seemed to be breathing. Anticipation had made slaves of his family.

“And then . . .” He shook his head. “And then I realized that the Toma I saw was another of the Manor’s living memories!”

“A very timely one, if it was. You are certain that it was not an illusion? Not some trick?” It was clear that Gwen wanted that to be the case.

“No illusion . . . or rather, yes, it was, but only if you count the Manor’s ghosts as such. This was one of those! I know the difference between them! Toma has been here before, Gwen. Not only that, but he had time to search this place thoroughly, I think.”

The sorceress released him. Her hands, Cabe saw for the first time, were shaking. “It has to be an illusion! How could he have succeeded in passing the barriers? Only we can let anyone in or out!”

The warlock looked at his family. “I don’t know.”

“What should we do?” asked Valea. Duke Toma had always been something of a nightmare monster to her, like the creatures children thought lived under their beds. To find out now that the nightmare had invaded their very sanctuary . . .

The master warlock thought it out. “We have to search this place using our power. We have to carefully go over everything and every place. We-” He blinked. “Where’s Darkhorse?”

The shadow steed had been with his family when last he had left them, and that had not been very long ago. Darkhorse was the only one other than his wife and offspring that Cabe would have trusted with all of this.

“He asked permission to depart only a few minutes ago.” Gwen was perturbed. She, too, realized how useful the eternal’s skills would have been for this deadly matter. “He was anxious, as if he had somewhere urgent to be. It was fairly sudden.”

Was there a possible connection? Cabe was not certain. He hoped that Darkhorse would have informed him if there was some danger to them. The shadow steed was generally not that carefree with the lives of his friends. Maybe it had something to do with the traps . . . and maybe there is a connection! Darkhorse, however, had departed before the warlock’s encounter with Toma’s specter. “We’ll have to do without him, then. He could be anywhere. The search will be our responsibility and ours alone.”

“What are we looking for?” asked Valea.

He wished it was possible to leave her out of this, but Valea’s power was needed. Even with the four of them working in concert, it would take the rest of the day to scour the Manor grounds. “Quite frankly, I don’t know.”

“We have to search, though,” Gwendolyn impressed upon their daughter. “Toma was . . . is . . . a vicious, cunning creature, the epitome of every terrible tale ever spoken about the Dragon Kings! You know what we have told the two of you about him. Toma was so treacherous, so dangerous, that he became a renegade even among his own kind! He has never forgiven the fact that, had he received the birth markings Kyl was born with, he would have been Dragon Emperor.”

The young witch’s mouth opened and her face grew pale. “Do you think . . . do you think that he might try to hurt Kyl?”

Cabe disliked the intensity of her emotions. She had not only not forgotten her infatuation with the drake, but it seemed that somehow it had even grown in their brief absence. That, however, was a matter for another time. All that mattered now was discovering whether Toma had left behind a legacy of his visit.

It bothered him that the drake had been so bold as to wander the Manor as freely as the image seemed to indicate. Toma was arrogant, yes, but to go stomping around in his full glory? What was the drake plotting? Had it been madness that had made him so daring?

He also could not help but wonder why the Manor had happened to reveal the image to him at this particular time. Toma would be interested in the coronation; there was no doubt about that. Perhaps Kyl was in danger. Immediate danger.

Or is he maybe in league with that demon? Should I confront him about it? There was no proof, however, and it would have been unfair to condemn the young drake without such proof. If anything, Kyl was probably in danger. Still, until they knew otherwise, the affair would have to be handled with caution.

His wife had come to the same conclusion. “Kyl may be in danger. All of us may be in danger. This is Toma we are talking about.” She paused, paying particular attention to Valea’s reactions. Cabe knew that she, too, was thinking of their daughter’s interest in the handsome heir. “Which means that we must keep this to ourselves for now.”

“To ourselves?” Clearly, Valea did not like that.

“The more that know, the worse the danger. Toma may have some allies among the drakes here. I hate to think that way, but it could be true. The four of us need to do this on our own.”

“I still don’t know what we’re looking for!”

“Neither do we,” Cabe reminded her. “The only thing I can say is to look for anything out of the ordinary . . . as far as the Manor goes.” He raised a hand in warning. “If you do notice anything, though, I want you-and that goes for both of you-to find us. Whatever Toma might have left behind would be very deadly. I have faith in your skills, but believe me when I say that even the Dragon Kings fear him.”

“Do we start now?”

Cabe and Gwen considered their daughter’s question. The enchantress finally nodded. “We do not seem to have any choice. It might be that there is nothing to fear, but I, for one, will not be able to relax until I know that we are safe.”

After a moment, Valea nodded her agreement.

Throughout the conversation, Aurim had remained quiet. Cabe had paid scant attention to that fact until now, originally believing that his son had simply been mulling over the possible threat they faced. Now, however, he noticed the peculiar expression on the younger Bedlam’s countenance, as if his son were trying to recall something of import. “Is something wrong, Aurim?”

The expression faded. Aurim briefly looked annoyed with himself, but then even that expression faded as determination took over. “Nothing, Father. I’m ready to begin whenever you like.”

Cabe wanted to sigh, but held back. He most certainly was not ready. Nonetheless, they had no choice. He tried to sound confident as he began, “Then this is how we start. . . .”