Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

XIII

The headache had not gone away even after several days. Aurim calculated that by now his father was spending his second day in Penacles. His mother planned to leave tomorrow, but not if Aurim was not well. Aurim had insisted that the headache was nothing, which was something of a lie. However, the throbbing in his head was nothing compared to the thought of looking weak.

It was a peculiar headache. For the first day, it had seemed like any other, but after that, the throbbing had taken on a strange quality. It was as if something was trying to break free. Each day seemed to weaken whatever held that thing back.

For reasons he did not understand save perhaps that it might end the pain, Aurim felt as if he wanted the mysterious force to burst free.

Eyes open, he stared at the ceiling of his bedchamber. His mother had suggested that he take an afternoon nap, something that he had not done since he was five. There was no arguing with the Lady Gwendolyn Bedlam, however, and so Aurim had retreated to his room. To his surprise, he had actually slept. Unfortunately, when he woke it was to find that the headache was, if anything, worse than ever.

He rolled over and stared at the balcony. Aurim found himself drawn to it for what must have been the dozenth time since he had stirred but minutes before.

Groaning, Aurim rose. Whatever fascinated him about the balcony drove him almost as crazy as the headache did. Maybe if I look outside, that’ll make it stop! He hoped so. Aurim was certain that he could overcome the headache, but not the headache and this peculiar compulsion.

No great revelation came to him as he stepped out. Still, the breeze that touched his face calmed him a little. He leaned on the carved handrail and peered down. People, both human and drake, went about their businesses. Off in the distance, Aurim could make out his sister and Ursa. Probably pining for Kyl! he thought with a snort. Kyl was his friend, but Aurim doubted that any relationship between the drake and his sister was a wise thing. Try telling that to her, though.

The throbbing continued unabated. Trying to keep his mind from it, Aurim continued to study the areas below. Perhaps if he took a walk through the maze. That always soothed him. If his mother had no need for him, he would do that. The garden maze had been his own personal world when he had been tiny: a fantasy realm where he had sometimes fought heroic battles and other times simply sat and enjoyed the peacefulness.

He looked to his left. The stables, as usual, were fairly active. Some of the horses were being walked. Two figures were inspecting the hoof of a bay. One of them straightened, shaking his head. Ssarekai.

Ssarekai.

“Toma . . .” he whispered, not realizing what he had uttered until a moment later. When he became aware, Aurim’s countenance paled. He did not remember everything, but he remembered something.

Toma! That night I woke . . . the stables . . .

“Ssarekai?”

He did not even recall transporting himself, but suddenly Aurim was standing before the drake. The bay whinnied and tried to shy away from him, but the stable hand who had been conversing with Ssarekai managed to maintain his hold.

“Master Aurim! You should never-”

“What happened, Ssarekai? What did he do?”

The drake looked at him as if the warlock had gone mad. Perhaps he had, but Aurim did not care. He only wanted some answers to the horrible memories suddenly filling his head. Without thinking, he reached for the servitor and pulled him close. Ssarekai did not struggle, perhaps recalling that as a mage of great potential, his young master could have as easily thrown him across the span of the Manor grounds.

“You were with him! Somewhere below my chambers! You were with Toma!”

He had never seen a drake blanch before, but Ssarekai managed to do just that. The drake shook his head and his tongue darted out and in. He was so frightened that his sibilance became even worse than Kyl’s.

“Not sssso, Masssster Aurrrim! Not sssso! I would neverrr have anything to do with that rrrenegade, that monsssster!”

“I saw you! I also saw him-” Saw him do what? Do something, but I can’t recall what it was Toma did!

“I know nothing; I sssswear that by the Drrragon of the Depthssss!”

“Aurim!”

He ignored the call, his concern only for an answer to the scene replaying in his head. It was like reading the same page of a book over and over. He saw-or rather had sensed-the two of them below. Ssarekai himself the warlock could not really recall noticing, but he had been there; Aurim knew that now. Ssarekai had stood in silence while something had happened to Toma, a spell that the renegade himself had cast.

“Aurim!” This time the voice would not be denied. A hand clamped onto his shoulder to emphasize that fact.

Abruptly aware of what he was doing, the young sorcerer released his grip on the drake. Ssarekai hissed in relief, then stepped back just enough to be out of reach. Everyone was staring at Aurim . . . including his mother.

She almost seemed ablaze. The enchantress took hold of her son by the arms and looked him straight in the eyes. Under that gaze, he could not turn away.

“Listen to me!” she demanded. “Do you know what you’ve been doing?”

Much of the fight left him. He had come close to using his power on a trusted retainer, on someone who was a friend. He had been about to unleash his power without any thought as to the consequences.

“Do you know now?”

Aurim nodded. Only then did it become possible for him to look away. In a voice much younger, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one to apologize to.”

He understood. Turning around, he faced the still wary Ssarekai. Two stable hands were half-supporting the drake. “I’m sorry, Ssarekai! I really am!”

His extended hand was at first greeted with a stare. Then, the drake slowly extended his own. The two clasped hands. Ssarekai even smiled.

Although everyone else had begun to relax, Aurim was still anxious. His mother must have noticed, for she again drew his attention to her.

“Now tell me what happened, Aurim. Think it over carefully and answer me as best as you can.”

Taking a deep breath, Aurim related his tale, beginning with waking up and feeling the urge to go to the balcony. The emerald sorceress’s eyes burned when he mentioned suddenly recalling the presences of Toma and, belatedly, Ssarekai. What they had been doing, he could not remember. Aurim only knew that something had been happening to the renegade.

When his story was finished, Gwendolyn Bedlam turned to the unnerved Ssarekai, who had spent the last several seconds shaking his head in denial of his young master’s condemning statements.

“You’ve been with us since the beginning, Ssarekai. I won’t judge you without first hearing what you have to say.”

“I am innocent of thissss, misssstressss!”

“Calm yourself.” She touched him on the shoulder, touched him gently so that he could know that she was not going to harm him. “Tell me.”

Hissing, the drake sputtered, “I remember nothing of the fantastic tale Massster Aurim related! I would never deal with the likesss of that monster Toma! Never!”

Gwen glanced at Aurim. “What night was this? Do you remember that?”

He tried hard to recall. The best he could give her was a period of time spread across four days.

Again, Gwen questioned the drake. “Do you recall anything about those nights?”

Ssarekai looked even more distressed. “Misssstressss, I generally sleep very ssssoundly at night. I recall nothing of thosssse nights!”

“Nothing?” Her hand slid an inch or two across his shoulder.

“Nothing.”

“I know what I saw!” Aurim exclaimed. Now that he had remembered, it amazed him that he could have ever forgotten. How had it been possible, unless . . . unless Toma had cast some spell on him?

Toma in his mind. He recalled that now, too.

“His mind has been tampered with.”

His initial thought was to believe that his mother was speaking of him. Only when he realized that she was looking at Ssarekai did Aurim understand.

“The spell is very subtle,” the enchantress went on. “And unless we were looking for it, it would be almost impossible to notice. I’d wager you have something akin to it in your own mind, Aurim, but because of your power, the spell could not affect you as thoroughly as it did Ssarekai.”

The drake should have been pleased to have verification that he was innocent of the young warlock’s accusations, but discovering that the renegade had toyed with his mind had quickly destroyed that brief pleasure. Still, Ssarekai was not the type to let his fears rule him. “Can you remove it, Mistress Gwendolyn? I would remember whatever shameful thingsss the monssster had me do ssso that we can begin tracking him down!”

She concentrated on him, seeming to stare into the drake’s very soul. However, after more than a minute of this, a minute which to Aurim felt as if it were an hour, the enchantress shook her head. “No, not now. He’s somehow bound it to you. It will take more effort, more study. I think I would prefer that my husband or perhaps the Gryphon worked with me.”

“What if I try, Mother?” asked the young warlock. They had always talked about his potential; why not let him prove himself here and now?

“I know what you’re thinking, Aurim, and it’s true you have the power, but this is a spell crafted by a black mage far more experienced than you. With time, you’ll likely be able to do this without anyone’s aid, but this is a predicament requiring long mastery of sorcery.”

“I understand.” He did, too. Duke Toma no doubt knew a thousand different ways to tangle his spell so that removing it would likely tear apart his victim’s mind. Aurim did not wish to be responsible for Ssarekai’s death.

It then occurred to him that the drake was not alone in his predicament.

“Mother, what about me?” His voice shook just a little. “I have the same spell on me.”

Her voice was calm, but her expression hinted at her great concern. “I know, Aurim. I thought about that the moment I realized I could not remove the spell on Ssarekai. However, you should bear one thing in mind. Your ability to focus and use your power far exceeds that of Ssarekai. The fact that you recall anything-and I suspect you’ve been struggling to do so for days-proves that your own mind is fighting back. It could very well be that this is the beginning of the spell’s unraveling. You could recall everything else that happened that night at any moment.”

“The headache has lessened.”

“As I thought it might have. We shall have to see what happens now. This is something that must be monitored carefully.”

“Will you still be going to Penacles?”

“I don’t know.” She eyed both Aurim and Ssarekai. “There are different options, and all of them should be weighed first. I should contact your father, however. Although what I can tell him that won’t simply add to his worries, I don’t know. If you could only recall more . . . with so much going on in Penacles, I hate to add this. Worse yet, the formal reception is this evening, and once again I’ve promised to be there.” Lady Bedlam uttered a mild curse, which still managed to startle a few of those who had gathered around them. “Cabe has the right of it: this land does seem to like nothing better than to complicate and endanger our lives!”

Aurim could only nod grimly. She would get no argument from him on that matter. As far as he was concerned, the Dragonrealm had chosen them to be players in some game. The moment one crisis seemed past, yet a new one would come to life. His father found it all very frustrating and had mentioned quite often that he hoped the peace would mean an end to that game.

Head still throbbing, Aurim’s only question was what the land would do with its pieces when the game was over.

“So the devil has been busy, has he?”

The Gryphon’s words rang in Cabe’s ears. After much deliberation, Gwen had contacted him and described what had happened to their son and Ssarekai. The warlock was, of course, concerned for the drake, but he could not help being more fearful for his son’s life. Toma particularly hated anyone of the name Bedlam; unraveling the spell blocking Aurim’s memories might kill him . . . and none too pleasantly, either.

His wife had wanted to bring both victims to Penacles, but then both of them realized that doing so would leave the Manor with no one to keep an eye on it. With Toma’s whereabouts unknown, that might be as good as inviting him to wreak more havoc. Neither Cabe nor Gwen planned on leaving Valea in charge; she was not yet old enough or skilled enough to take on a drake as experienced as the renegade. The warlock was wondering whether even he was prepared for the drake duke.

“I wish Darkhorse was here,” he muttered to the figure standing before him. The two of them had retired to the Gryphon’s chambers as soon as the sorcerer became aware of Gwendolyn’s mind touching his own.

The news had not been good. That Toma had dared to do what he had done to Aurim and Ssarekai disgusted Cabe. He was only thankful that the renegade had not done worse.

“I’ve got to go home, Gryphon! I’ve got to do what I can to help free my son of that spell. There’s no telling what might happen otherwise!”

The lionbird nodded. “I understand completely, Cabe. You know that.”

His statement made the anxious sorcerer feel a little guilty. The Gryphon had lost a son already; Aurim was still alive and healthy.

“We’ll have to explain to Toos and the others. I’ll also need to get word to Troia.”

“You’re coming, too?”

The human/avian eyes stared coldly at him. “Did you think I would abandon you on this? Whatever aid I can offer is yours. You should know that by now.”

He had been hoping for his old friend’s help, but it was good to be reassured. “I can’t thank you enough.”

They both rose. The Gryphon patted the warlock on the shoulder. “We’ve always been there for each other and for each other’s family. There’s no need for thanks. I owe you as much as you think you owe me.”

Cabe differed on that, thinking of how the former monarch had shielded a young, confused man running from the hunting armies of the Dragon Emperor. From that moment on, he had considered himself forever in the lionbird’s debt.

Their news was received with both dismay and shock. Benjin Traske insisted on returning with them, his deep concern for the mage’s family touching Cabe’s heart, but the warlock refused, knowing that the scholar was needed in Penacles more than ever. Without Cabe there, it would be up to Traske to aid the Green Dragon in watching over Kyl. Benjin Traske finally gave in, but only with great reluctance.

Toos, of course, approved of their departure. He leaned close and added, “Your children, warlock, are my children too, as are the Gryphon’s. It would pain me dearly, son, if anything happened to any one of them.”

The drakes, too, were adamant that Cabe return to the Manor. Kyl, like Benjin Traske, also wished to return in the hopes that he might be able to do something for the young warlock. The Green Dragon and Grath reluctantly convinced him to do otherwise, for which Cabe was grateful. He was surprised at the heir’s shock at what had happened to Aurim; his son and the drake were evidently dearer friends than he had imagined. The sorcerer had been convinced that Kyl generally associated with Aurim in order to be near Valea, but the concern he read in the drake’s visage told him otherwise. It made him just a little uncomfortable to realize that he might have misjudged Kyl, at least in part.

“Things will be fine here, Cabe,” Toos concluded. The regent waved a dismissing hand at them. “Go! See to your son and Ssarekai. Good horseman for a drake, that one. He doesn’t deserve Toma’s games any more than Aurim does.”

“We shall do what we can for both of them,” replied the Gryphon. “As soon as we are able, one of us will return with news.” He turned to Kyl. “Your Majesty . . .”

“Formality isss not necesssary now, Lord Gryphon. All I desssire isss that you do for my friend what you and Massster Bedlam can!”

The others nodded their agreement. Cabe laid a hand on the lionbird’s arm. “Ready?”

“Of course.”

They were all waiting in the largest of the Manor’s underground chambers. The first time Cabe had been down here, many years before, he had expected to find dungeons. To his relief, most of the rooms evidently had been used for storage. There were traces of old magic, but the spells had either been fairly simple or had been cast so long ago that no danger remained. As for the largest chamber, the table and chairs he had discovered in it indicated that its last use had been as a council room or something akin.

Aurim and Ssarekai sat in chairs in the middle of the room. The table had been moved away, no doubt at Gwendolyn’s request. The party looked up as Cabe and the Gryphon materialized.

“Was there any difficulty?” the enchantress asked her husband.

“None save that everyone wanted to give what aid they could.”

“I’ll be sure to thank them when I can.” Her gaze shifted to the figure beside Cabe. “For now, I want to thank you, Gryphon, for coming.”

“As I keep telling your mate, my lady, there is no need to thank me. We are family.”

“I wish everyone would stop talking as if I were about to die,” interjected an apprehensive Aurim.

“No one is going to die, Aurim,” Gwen replied, walking over to the young man, “but you know that Toma’s left something in your head. We can’t help but feel a little anxious. I know it doesn’t help to hear that. Just rest assured that there’s nothing Toma’s done that we can’t untangle.”

“I hope,” Aurim muttered.

“Aurim!” Gwendolyn Bedlam stared down at her son.

The Gryphon raised his hands in an attempt to calm everyone. “Please! We should begin as soon as possible. Make no mistakes, this is going to take the rest of the day and likely tomorrow, too.”

That made the young warlock grimace. “That long?”

“I’m afraid so. You won’t have to sit there the entire time, though. First we have to see what’s there. Then, we have to see how we can get rid of it.”

“Let’s do it, then,” added Cabe as he joined the Gryphon.

“What about the reception?” asked his son. “Won’t you miss that?”

“Toos will give our apologies.” The Gryphon sighed. “Now, please, Aurim. You have to remain silent for this.”

Next to Cabe, Gwendolyn whispered, “I wish Darkhorse was here! I think that with his peculiar brand of sorcery, he would stand a chance of unraveling this spell by himself.”

The warlock nodded. He decided it was not the time to express his concerns about the eternal. Darkhorse had been missing far too long for his tastes.

“Let me look first,” the Gryphon suggested. “Once I have an idea what is there, I will know better how to proceed.” He met Aurim’s nervous gaze and chuckled. “I should thank you, young warlock. You have no idea how bored I am at receptions. Before your mother contacted us, I had just resigned myself to looking forward to five or six hours of empty talk and stuffy faces. It really was kind of you to drag me away from such wonderful entertainment.”

Aurim smiled, which Cabe suspected was the Gryphon’s intention. His subject more relaxed now, the lionbird summoned his power. Although they could not see his probe, the others could sense the spell progressing.

Forced for the moment to wait, the warlock thought over his old comrade’s words. More a creature of action than speech, the Gryphon despised affairs of state. But at the moment, Cabe would have preferred nothing more than fighting boredom at the royal reception in Penacles. At least that would have meant that his son, his entire family, was well.

His reverie was shattered by an intake of breath by the Gryphon. “Well, what do we have here?”

Everyone leaned forward. Anxiety spread once more across Aurim’s pale countenance.

“What is it?” Cabe asked.

The Gryphon sighed, then looked at his companions. “This is going to take much longer than I had hoped.” If it was possible for a creature with a beak to grimace, then the lionbird had done just that. “We seem to have run into a problem.”