Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

XXI

Darkhorse paced, and as he did, he eyed the two great dragons guarding the entrance into Kivan Grath. They returned his gaze with steady ones of their own. He knew that this pair would not be stared down, however much that would have been preferable to the other choice. If it came to battle, the eternal was certain that he would be victorious, but any combat would leave him even weaker than he was now. Darkhorse had not yet had the time to recover from his imprisonment; whatever his captors had done with him while he had been a victim of the box had sapped much of his strength.

He did not want to endanger his friends. Better he remain here and do nothing than become a detriment during a possible duel with foul Toma.

What made the situation more worrisome was the silence that greeted Darkhorse every time he attempted to reach Cabe. He was aware that the sanctum of the Dragon Emperor likely had spells that kept whatever was said within a secret, but both dragons had received commands from someone inside. That meant that it was possible to forge a link with Cabe. Certainly, his human friend had intended to send him word of the conditions of Toma’s captives. The warlock knew how much Darkhorse cared for his children; there should have been some word. He was certain of it.

Had there already been a battle? Had Cabe been prevented from summoning him?

Darkhorse ceased his pacing and turned to confront the two mammoth guardians. The dragons studied him with wary eyes.

He tried to look his most impressive. “I must know what is happening in there.”

Their responses were the same. Both dragons hissed and readied their claws. The eternal felt each guardian draw power in possible preparation of a magical assault.

Darkhorse gouged a ravine in the rocky soil beneath him. His pupilless eyes glittered. “Yes, I did not think you would like that statement.”

“You will have to passs usss to gain entrance, demon sssteed!” snarled the one Cabe had identified as Faras.

Sighing, the shadow steed started toward them at a trot. He tried to ignore the vast reservoirs of power the two behemoths were gathering. Between the two of them, they did have sufficient ability to end his existence. He told himself that he would just have to learn to ignore that particularly unsavory fact. Otherwise, thinking about it might be the death of him. “I still have hope that you might reconsider the necessity of that. . . .”

“ HALT!”

At the sound of Duke Toma’s voice, the monstrosity paused. It looked, absurd as the image was, like a puppy that had just been forbidden its favorite chewing bone. As he was to have been that bone, Cabe appreciated the reprieve, but the warlock also knew very well that the drake had not protected him out of any sudden change of heart.

Duke Toma, again resembling himself, looked from the creature to his adversary. “I think he remembers you, Master Bedlam!”

“Father!” whispered a horrified Valea. “What is that?”

“Misfit . . .” muttered Ursa, breaking her silence. “Freak of nature . . . they usually don’t live this long. . . .”

It only remotely resembled a dragon. The thing was several times taller than a human, but that was in part because it stood on two legs instead of four. The tail that dragged for several yards behind was all that allowed it to balance. Even still, the monster teetered at times, in great part because its head was far too large for its body. Strange follicles almost resembling whiskers hung down from above its maw. Two spindly, almost useless arms waved back and forth in agitation.

It should have been dead. It should have died of starvation or something after Cabe and Gwen had forced it into the depths of the immense cavern system. Trust my luck that not only did it survive, but Toma found it first!

The renegade was laughing, no doubt in part because of the expression that had crossed the warlock’s countenance when the beast had first started toward him.

“Yesss, I think you recognize each other. He isss more than a dumb beassst like a riding drake, human. He is very much like usss, a thinking-to a point, that is-creature. Doubt not that he recalls what you did to him and the one who gave him care and purposesss. Doubt not that he remembers well when you took his provider from him.”

At the comment, the thing howled. Everyone but Toma was forced to put their hands to their ears until the monster ceased.

The duke silenced his pet with a glare. Had he not known what the creature was capable of, the mage would have felt more sympathetic toward its plight. It craved guidance. It needed someone to command it. Unfortunately, that someone had first been the Gold Dragon and now was the renegade.

“How did you find it?” Cabe asked Toma, not so much because he wanted to know but because he was desperately trying to think of some way to defeat the monster before it literally destroyed him with a glance.

To his relief, Toma was willing to explain. After so many years of silently coordinating his various plots, it was not surprising that the renegade might desire to boast of his success to his enemies. “After the death of my sssire in the Northern Wastes, I returned to this cavern. Although I dared not leave signs of my stay in the upper system, I was still able to spend quite some time here recuperating and thinking.” There was a distant look in Toma’s eye. “I know the cavernsss of Kivan Grath better than anyone. I explored their depths asss no one before me or sssince. There are few sssecrets here that I am not privy to.” He pointed at the waiting monstrosity. “Who do you think firssst noted the potential and informed the emperor asss to the possibilitiesss? I am always looking ahead, plotting for every circumssstance . . . but then, you know that now, don’t you?”

Kyl moved a step, but Toma’s pet turned and eyed him, causing the young drake to grow still once more. The monster seemed a bit confused by Kyl, Cabe noted. Why that was, he did not know, but it was something definitely worth considering . . . provided that Toma gave him the time to do so.

The duke gave Kyl a mocking smile. “It would be ill-advisssed to move much, Your Majesty. Asssk Master Bedlam. He knows what this creature can do. A magical marvel! A fire-breathing dragon in reverssse! Let him fix his baleful eye on you long enough, and suddenly the world will feel like an inferno. It will be asss if all the heat of the world isss building up within you and there is nothing you can do to douse those fires. All thisss will happen in but the blink of an eye, too.

“You will burst into flamesss and be consumed from within. A truly novel death, at the very leassst. Our sssire found him to be a very useful tool, much to the permanent regrets of the traitorousss kings Bronze and Iron.”

Everyone knew that something had happened to the two Dragon Kings who had sought to usurp control from their counterpart, Gold. What the emperor had done had been a mystery. The only thing that most knew was that there had been little left of either drake lord. The deaths had, for a time, quelled any further notion of rebellion by the surviving monarchs.

“Massster Bedlam!” whispered Ursa in as quiet a voice as possible. “I remember that thing . . . I sssaw it once; heard our sire talk about it. The . . . the creature was blindly obedient to the emperor!”

Blindly obedient? To the Dragon Emperor? A plan, admittedly thin in substance, came to the warlock. At the very least, it would throw Duke Toma’s plans into chaos . . . hopefully all of them, this time.

“The emperor must’ve taken good care of it for it to have survived at all. It must’ve been very loyal to him.”

Toma was visibly amused by the continuing conversation. He was clearly prolonging it only to give his foes desperate hope. In the drake’s eyes, he held all the cards.

Cabe hoped that did not prove to be true.

“Only my sssire had greater control over him than I did . . . and now, only I am his massster!”

The monster’s attention strayed to Toma while the renegade spoke, but then the head slowly swung toward Kyl again. It was not simply the young drake who seemed to interest him, though, but also Kyl’s proximity to the throne.

“But if Gold-if the Dragon Emperor were here,” persisted Cabe, “it might not even look at you.”

Toma now only looked annoyed at his comments. Cabe dared not look at Kyl, for fear that the renegade would realize what he was attempting to do. The drake duke folded his arms and stared at the warlock. “I think that this missserable attempt to drag out the last few momentsss of your lives has come to an end, human.” He had eyes for no one other than Cabe. “I think that it isss time to end our long and colorful association, don’t you?”

The renegade turned to the monstrous creature, who seemed to shiver in anticipation.

“Stop!” roared a commanding voice that echoed throughout the caverns. “I, your emperor, command it!”

Even Toma could not help but turn.

Cabe thanked the Dragon of the Depths and whatever else might be watching out for Kyl and the others. The heir had picked up on what the warlock had been hinting at . . . picked up on it and taken it further than Cabe could have believed possible.

Kyl no longer stood near the throne. Instead, impossible as it was to believe, there loomed before them a dragon as had not been seen in years. To Cabe, it was as if time itself had stepped backward, resurrecting for all to see the glory of the Dragon Emperors in the form of the drake lord Gold.

He had confronted the emperor only in the final moments, when that glory had been, in great part, tarnished by madness. Kyl, on the other hand, was a sleek, gleaming leviathan, the epitome of glory and command.

For several seconds, even Toma was speechless. He gaped at the dazzling sight, then recalled himself. Hissing loudly, the duke whirled to his pet beast and pointed at the sun-drenched form atop the dais. “Slay him!”

In response, the monster emitted a mournful howl. Duke Toma stepped back as if slapped. The creature took a few tentative steps toward Kyl, then paused to glance at the renegade.

It remembers the Dragon Emperor as its guardian! It did not matter that this was not the same dragon. Kyl was similar enough in form that even Cabe had had to look twice to see the differences. Toma’s pet had evidently sensed the kinship from the beginning. Moreover, to it, the throne represented the emperor, the one who had given it a place. The beast was understandably torn in its loyalties. Kyl had solidified that impression by taking on the form of his sire.

The heir had done something more than simply copy the appearance of his father. Cabe doubted that Kyl had ever so completely changed form before. What everyone saw now was the form that the drake, had he not been influenced by human presence, would have certainly worn when he had reached adulthood. What stood before them was truly Kyl, emperor of the drake race.

It was a realization that did not sit well with Toma.

“What are you waiting for, you misssguided monstrosssity? That isss not the one who gave you purpose! That isss an enemy of hisss in disguise! I am the only one you can trussst here!”

The beast wavered, again unleashing its mournful howl.

“How horrible!” whispered Valea. Cabe glanced at her, thinking that she meant the misshapen drake, but his daughter’s eyes were fixed on Kyl. It occurred to him then that Valea had never considered the heir’s other form. Not truthfully. She had no doubt realized that as one of the drake race Kyl had another form, but imagining it and seeing it were two entirely different things. Kyl was a handsome dragon, but he was still a dragon and not the exotic young man the witch had grown up knowing. It mattered not that she had seen Ursa change, either. Ursa was not Kyl.

“You will obey me,” roared the heir to Toma’s pet. “Obey me and I will protect you.”

That was all the monster evidently needed to hear, for it started to trot toward the dais much the way a small, lost animal that has finally found its mother might have.

No one betrayed Duke Toma. Grath had learned that, much to his misfortune. The renegade evidently intended Kyl to learn that, too, for the warlock barely had time to act as he saw Toma pull the deadly blade from his belt and stretch his arm back in order to throw it at the heir, who was preoccupied with guiding the monster to him.

As quick as Cabe was, Ursa was even quicker. She leapt toward the turned Toma, already shifting her form. Yet, if the female drake had hoped to catch the renegade off guard, she had not counted on Toma’s propensity for survival. Somehow, the drake always had some response ready, even if circumstances warranted it to be a swift one.

Toma barely succeeded in maintaining a hold on his blade. There was, much to Cabe’s relief, no time for the duke to turn the knife directly on the attacking drake, but he was still able to bring down the hard handle on the side of her head. As she had not yet completely altered her form, her head lacked the scaly armor and thick skull of a dragon. More importantly, the spark that flew off when blade met skull was clear proof that the dark knife was ensorcelled on many levels.

Ursa struck the floor already unconscious. All vestiges of her change dwindled away, leaving her in the human form she had always so much preferred.

“Ssstupid, ussseless female!” sneered Toma.

Unable to act before without possibly harming the brave drake, Cabe attacked the moment Ursa was out of his line of sight. The spell was not an intricate one; the warlock’s only intention was to permanently part Toma from his blade. The weapon was the key to much of the renegade’s work, including, Cabe suspected, the spell that surrounded the cavern.

Near the dais, Toma’s monster had turned back at the sounds of struggle. Now the creature wanted to join its former master, but repeated commands by Kyl were so far keeping it in check. It continued to howl, frustrated by the two conflicting loyalties.

Cabe did not strike at the blade itself, suspecting that among the powers that Toma had imbued it with was some sort of shield. Grath had been able to hold it a short time, but that was because he had simply been trying to halt its flight, not affect the weapon itself. Instead of the blade, the warlock chose to strike at the renegade. Granted, Toma was probably also protected, but what Cabe planned was not exactly a direct attack.

Without warning, the duke’s hand opened wide. The drake’s expression was indication enough that he had not wanted to open his hand, especially as that meant he no longer had a grip on the knife. Toma tried to seize the falling weapon with his other hand, but it was too late.

The blade struck the cavern floor point first and bounced a foot or two away. Cabe noted no change in the conditions around them, despite Duke Toma having no direct control of his toy. Of course, he had not had any such control when Grath had attempted his spell. The blade’s tied to him. It has to be destroyed to be stopped.

That was something easier said than done, especially with the renegade now turning his attention to his old adversary. The drake stretched forth one hand toward the knife while the other he balled into a fist and pointed in Cabe’s direction.

As the knife rose from the floor, the warlock felt his shield buckle under an unseen but incredible force all around him. Cabe strengthened the shield, but doing so drew his concentration from seizing the blade. He watched with frustration as it neared Toma’s open hand.

Then another hand thrust upward from the floor and snared the knife by the handle. Ursa, not so unconscious as Duke Toma had supposed, reversed the blade so that it pointed toward its master. At the same time, she tried to plunge the weapon into the belly of Toma.

There was no doubt that it would have sunk deep, armor or no, but the renegade drake was swifter than Ursa had evidently hoped. Although taken unaware by her sudden revival, Toma recovered quickly. This close, he did not have time to protect himself with a spell, not against such a powerful device as his own magical blade, but he could still move. Toma’s hand came down on the female drake’s own, forcing the blade lower and to the side. Ursa gasped in obvious pain as the duke squeezed.

The knife missed his stomach, but Ursa was evidently stronger than he had supposed. Stronger and swifter.

A hissing cry burst from the renegade as his own dagger plunged almost halfway into his thigh. Armorlike skin failed to slow the sorcerous weapon.

Pulling away, the knife still in his thigh, Duke Toma cursed. The knife and the wound glowed a peculiar green. Fueled by his pain, he struck Ursa as she tried to rise and finish what she had begun. It was quite clear from the angle at which the female drake fell that this time there would be no trick.

From the dais, the dragon Kyl turned to the monster and roared, “Kill him!”

The creature remained where it was, looking confused and almost panic-stricken. It could no more destroy Toma than it could the one it believed was the previous emperor. Distraught, the beast looked up to the ceiling and renewed its howling.

The ceiling shook. A rain of tiny and not-so-tiny fragments buffeted everyone. Even Toma paused in his pain to cover himself as one particularly large chunk of rock fell within a few feet of him.

Cabe tried for what seemed the thousandth time to focus on Toma, but again something prevented him from unleashing a new spell. The something this time proved to be Kyl, who, realizing that there would be no victory through his new pet, charged toward the wounded renegade.

Toma looked up to see several tons of dragon converging on him. He did not seem panicked, however, but rather furious. Foregoing the removal of the enchanted blade, which still glowed, the duke faced his awesome foe and clenched his fists. Kyl was already almost upon him, frustrating the warlock’s attempt. Only a powerful spell could take down Toma, but such a powerful spell would likely include the heir as well. So much power and I stand around like a dithering fool!

There was, however, one thing he could do. That was pull Ursa away from the vicinity of Toma and Kyl. With a glance, he raised the still form of the female drake and brought it swiftly toward himself. At the same time, he whispered, “Valea! Take hold of Ursa the moment she’s near enough. Bring her to the gateway. You have to find some way to open it and summon Darkhorse.”

“But Father, that will leave you alone!”

“Do as I say! Quickly!” Although the tasks he had given her were of great importance, there was a part of the warlock that admittedly desired Valea to be out of harm’s way. Even if she failed to open the gates or contact the eternal, the simple fact that Valea was no longer in here would allow Cabe to fully concentrate on Toma. It was his daughter more than anything else that made it almost impossible for Cabe to completely commit himself to battle.

Even as she took hold of the floating form of her friend with her own sorcery, Cabe’s attention returned to the battle before him. Kyl had reached Toma . . . almost. The majestic golden drake stood above the tinier figure of the renegade, one massive paw attempting to squash Toma. Unfortunately, some unseen barrier prevented Kyl from closing the last two or three feet above the duke’s helmed head. The emperor-to-be roared and attempted to smash through the shield, but the result of his attack was a shriek of pain as the barrier proved even stronger than his full draconian might.

Kyl raised his paw to try again . . . and was enveloped in a ball of lightning.

Above the combined din created by both the crackle of the lightning and the roar of agony unleashed by the dragon, the voice of Duke Toma hissed, “Impudent little fool! You challenge me? You dare think yourssself a match for me becaussse you wear that color? Becaussse you wear a few sssuperficial markings that in no way determine your power or your cunning?”

Still holding the dragon at bay, Duke Toma reached down and seized the blade in his leg. With obvious strain, he plucked out the deadly toy. The renegade wobbled a little, but did not fall.

There was at last distance enough between the two dragons for Cabe to utilize his master spell. He stared directly at the knife and concentrated.

The knife flared white but was in no other way changed. In fact, the only other result of his attack was that Toma now turned to him. “And you, human! That you could ever think yourself my equal! That I have tolerated you for ssso long isss to laugh!”

Kyl took the brief moment of inattention to attempt a new and more daring assault, this time in the form of an attack on the ground around Toma’s feet. The golden dragon tore at the earth, obviously trying to undermine the renegade’s footing.

Pointing the blade toward Kyl, Toma muttered something under his breath.

Blue lightning turned the emperor-to-be into an azure inferno. Cabe watched in horror and stupefaction as Toma’s spell raised Kyl’s overwhelming form several feet above the ground and tossed him toward the far side of the vast cavern.

The huge, gleaming form crashed into the hard, rock surface of the chamber wall. Kyl’s shocked roar became, for a brief moment, an immense grunt of surprise and pain. The grunt was followed by another crash and then silence, as the dragon crumpled to the floor. As with Ursa, Kyl suddenly reverted to his more human form, a transformation that did little to improve his battered look. Unlike his sister, however, it was clear that the heir was not playing at unconsciousness.

The monster started toward Kyl. Toma called to it, but the beast paid him no mind. With its oversized head, the beast nudged the heir’s still body. When Kyl did not move, it squatted next to him and began once more its mournful howling.

“Your plans are crumbling, Toma,” taunted Cabe, a spell at the ready. He wanted the drake just a little farther away from the direction of the entrance. Valea had finally slipped past with Ursa’s floating body, but if the duke realized what was happening, he stood a good chance of taking the two women before the warlock would be able to stop him. “Just like they always do.”

“If there hasss been any fault in my plansss,” hissed the renegade, forgetting all else save the robed figure, “it isss because I have been naive enough to trussst the competence of others. In the end, I mussst always rely on myself.”

“Yourself?” Cabe took a step back and away from the entrance. To his relief, Toma matched his steps, unconsciously moving farther from where Valea had fled. “It was your incompetence that destroyed your plans. It was your incompetence that forced you to abandon the Manor mere days before your plot would have seen fruition.”

Reptilian eyes blazed within the false helm. Toma was finding it difficult to restrain himself. “That was the fault of trusssting children and bumbling fools!”

“Maybe, but who was it who was truly to blame for bringing down the Dragon Emperor in the first place? Who was it whose ambition pushed Gold to make the decisions he did?” The warlock straightened and stared Toma in the eye without blinking. “Who was it who secretly urged the kings Brown and Black to hunt down one lone human boy and kill him because of what his grandfather had been? If not for you, I might not be here to stop you now and, perhaps more important to you, Toma, Gold might never have fallen.”

“I will have your tongue, human!”

Cabe had drawn the power that he needed. There was but one more thing that he wanted to say, one more fact he wanted Toma to know, whatever the outcome. “You’ve always desired to be the shaper of the Dragonrealm, Toma, but have you ever considered that you already are? You’ve done more to make the land what it is today than almost anyone else. You brought down the Dragon Emperor, put the drake lords into disarray, and helped make humans and drakes equal.” Cabe Bedlam bowed humbly before the renegade, but his tone, he hoped, held just the proper level of ridicule. “For that, you deserve the thanks of all of us, especially me.”

“You arrogant little vermin!” Toma raised the knife toward Cabe. “You . . . human! I will have you ssstuffed and mounted! I will have you made the centerpiece of a collection of thossse who fell before my glory!”

The sinister dagger blazed.

Cabe released his counterspell just as Toma committed himself.

The warlock was buffeted by an incredible wave of sorcerous energy. He stumbled back and fell to one knee, but then the pressure eased, becoming less and less with each passing breath.

Toma did not understand at first, so caught up was he in the intended destruction of the mage. He did not comprehend until the blade began to shimmer in an odd fashion, alternating between a glow as bright as the sun and a blackness as dark as the night.

“What are you-” was all the renegade managed. Then, Duke Toma hissed in pain.

The dagger dropped from his hand. The palm of his hand was black and blistered.

The knife struck the cavern floor, but this time it did not bounce. In fact, it struck more with a splatter, for the blade was already half-melted.

“Nooo!” Reaching down with his good hand, the renegade attempted to retrieve what was left. He was too late. All that remained was the lower half of the handle, and that melted even as Toma tried to pick it up. The duke snarled and rubbed his fingers.

Around Cabe, it suddenly felt as if a vast barrier had been lifted . . . which, in truth, had happened. Against the power of the blade, Cabe’s options had been limited. Toma had worked his magics all too well in creating the knife. Not only had it helped the drake defeat Kyl, but it also still shielded Darkhorse from the knowledge of what had transpired in the cavern.

Cabe could have wasted his own strength fighting against the shielded walls, the knife, and Toma himself, but there could have been only one outcome to such an unbalanced struggle. Therefore, the sorcerer had instead concentrated on the blade and one of the weaknesses its very function forced upon it.

Only one power was certainly equal to the task of defeating Toma’s plaything. That was the power of the blade itself. It was a trick he had made good use of several times in the past. Cabe’s spell had not been an attack on the knife nor had it been a simple shield against the weapon’s might. What the warlock had instead cast was a conduit of sorts, a magical path that would turn the power of the blade to another purpose. Cabe had refocused the deadly force of the knife against the invisible barrier that cut off all communication between those in the cavern and those in the outside world.

The blade had worked against itself, feeding more and more of its power into the attack on Cabe, which was then turned on the barrier that it projected. In order to strengthen that barrier from the sudden attack, the magical dagger had been forced to further drain itself. Yet, it could not do so for long because Toma’s will continued to force more power into his battle against the apparently impervious shield of his warlock rival.

The result had been too much for Toma’s toy to handle.

He did not wait for the renegade to recover, attacking while the duke still clutched his injured hands. Crimson loops formed around Toma’s legs and torso and attempted to bind his arms together. However, the drake proved to be less disoriented than Cabe had hoped, for suddenly a green aura formed, an aura that proceeded to melt away the loops covering each arm. The aura spread over Duke Toma’s body, dissolving the loops as it touched them. Only when the last of the loops faded to nothing did the green glow dwindle away.

“You continue to pessster me like a flea biting at my flesh!” Toma held his hands palms forward so that Cabe could see them. A haze formed briefly over each palm. As it passed, the burns healed, until there was no sign of the injuries. The renegade hissed again, his forked tongue darting out once. “But that isss all you are, Cabe Bedlam! A flea! A flea!”

Duke Toma’s shape twisted. His form was quicksilver, fluid and changing. He began to expand, as if filling with air. Hands arched, becoming taloned paws. Arms and legs bent at angles that should have broken them. From the renegade’s back tremendous wings sprouted and with them a tail. The savage, leering dragon’s head crest began to sink down and merge with the half-hidden countenance behind the false helm. In but the blink of an eye, Toma grew to several times his original size and continued to expand.

He was not as huge a beast as either Kyl, Faras, or Ssgayn, but Toma the dragon was possibly the most ferocious drake that Cabe had ever encountered. The jaws opened wide as the transformed duke roared, revealing an impossible number of long, sharp teeth. The forest green and sun gold form was lithe and swift in appearance. Toma’s eyes burned with such hatred that the warlock half-expected to drop dead simply from the rage he saw in them.

The dragon rose on his hind legs, obscuring all sight of the dais and the throne. He hissed again, the long, snakelike tongue darting about like a frenzied whip.

“It isss time you learned, flea, what a dragon is truly capable of!” Toma inhaled . . . then exhaled an inferno.

Flames licked the area all around Cabe. His robe burned and the heat seared his flesh. He held in check the scream he wanted to release, instead turning the pain into power. His shield strengthened, cutting off both the flame and the heat. A simpler spell doused the fires on his clothing. The burns he healed just enough to ignore. It would take all his will and ability to fight back. A little pain would have to be endured.

Toma inhaled again. Cabe chose the respite to attack in turn, severing a number of the largest and sharpest of the stalactites from the ceiling. The rain of missiles came down on Toma just as he was about to unleash a second firestorm. The barrage caught the dragon by surprise. One stalactite pierced a wing, while several others battered the outraged leviathan’s head.

Cabe’s success was short-lived. A barrier formed around Toma, a barrier that seemed adept at deflecting the stone missiles. Cabe brought a hand up and turned the swarm aside. The deadly rain pummeled the restored effigies and created a second massive shower of rock that further reduced the area to the wreckage it had been after the warlock’s previous battle here, the one with Toma’s sire, Gold.

The dragon laughed and a malevolent smile crossed the reptilian features. “Flea bitesss! Nothing but flea bitesss! I shall scorch you, rend you, and crush you, human! Then I shall take your precious daughter! Perhapsss I shall make her one of my dams! Humansss and drakesss are capable of procreating, you know. I have . . . ssseen it. Then, I shall take your son and your lovely bride-all of your companionsss-and, one by one, teach them the meaning of ssslow death! I should be able to keep myssself amusssed with them for months at a time!” Toma laughed again, loosening a few more stalactites that fell harmlessly around him. “And, knife or not, as Grath, I shall look on, properly mournful but unable to end the terror!”

He would do it, too. Everything that Toma had just promised, even without the baleful dagger to aid him, he would do. Cabe knew that, and a cold, ever so cold, fear overwhelmed him. Yet, instead of being left numb and paralyzed, the fear stirred within him a rage, a need to react and overcome that very fear.

His voice was surprisingly calm as he started toward the malignant drake. “You won’t be doing anything to anybody, Toma. I can’t allow that. I can’t let you leave to cause more horror. It has to end here.”

Toma laughed again and, raising one huge, taloned paw, caused a storm to form above and around the tiny figure that dared to defy him. Wind and rain rocked Cabe, while thunder deafened him and lightning sought to strike him down.

Gritting his teeth, the warlock somehow found the wherewithal to continue forward. Fueled by his fatalistic determination, Cabe’s shield spell held against the onslaught of the magical storm. Toma roared and increased its fury, but still his foe advanced.

Within only yards of the leviathan, Cabe at last attacked. He raised his hands before his chest, and from between them there suddenly formed a sphere of blinding blue light. The sphere grew to twice the size of a man’s head, then flew forward as if shot from a catapult.

Wings stretching, the dragon snorted his disdain and nodded almost minutely at the oncoming projectile. A second sphere, this one a dark, decaying green, formed instantly and flew to meet its blue counterpart.

The two balls of light collided.

Toma had already forgotten Cabe’s sphere, assuming that his counterspell had eradicated it. His gaze had already returned to Cabe when the dragon became aware that, instead of dissipating the moment it had touched its emerald counterpart, the blue sphere had exploded into a thousand fragments. A thousand fragments that continued on toward their intended target with no loss of velocity.

Skilled as he was, it took the dragon little effort to strengthen his shield, but Cabe’s spell was stronger in intensity than anything Toma had yet faced. Most of the glittering fragments faded as they met the magical wall, but several burst through.

Toma howled in pain as dozens of tiny, fiery avengers assailed him. Several scored hits on his torso while a few lucky ones burned through the membranes of one wing. The dragon staggered back, knocking over yet more of the ancient statues and coming to a halt only when the floor gave way to the steps of the dais. Cabe raised his arms toward Toma to give his attack better focus, ignoring, as he had so many times in the past, the agony caused by an old wound suffered facing the Aramites. None of his pain mattered now; it was secondary to keeping the dragon at bay.

The battle had at last drawn the attention of the monster, although it still made no attempt to leave Kyl’s side. Toma noticed its attention and, pointing a claw at Cabe, roared, “Kill him now! Kill him before he leavesss you once more without anyone! Kill him before he leavesss you alone again!”

No! Cabe swore as he heard the creature’s howl take on a new, deadlier tone. A furtive glance informed him that Toma had at last managed to stir the beast from its stupor. Rising, the monstrosity began to lumber toward the warlock, who was quite aware that even at his best he could not possibly take on both the wily dragon and the baleful monster. All the creature had to do was fix his gaze on Cabe long enough . . .

He was caught between the two of them. Worse, with Cabe forced to spread his attention between the dragon and the monster, Toma was also recovering from his terrible onslaught. There would be no hope whatsoever if the weary mage allowed that to happen, but he could foresee no way to prevent it.

I’ve failed. . . . Toma would find some way to escape the caverns and eventually Grath, possibly even Kyl, would return to claim the throne. No one would realize that it was Toma making use of some new devious spell.

A second howl nearly deafened him. With an awkward leap, Toma’s pet covered much of the remaining distance between them. It could have easily dealt with him before this, but Cabe guessed that it was debating between using its inherent magic to destroy him or simply seizing the human morsel in its mouth and swallowing him whole.

“Kill him!” hissed Toma once again. Still weak from his wounds, which this time he did not instantly heal, the renegade appeared to be satisfied with keeping his adversary occupied enough so that Cabe could not deal with the other threat until it was too late.

The beast paused. It howled again, but moved no closer. Its horrible eyes focused on the haggard mage.

A curtain of absolute darkness covered the warlock. At first he thought that this was the prelude to death, but then the curtain moved, and for the first time since the beginning of the struggle, Cabe’s hopes rose high.

“I have seen some ugly drakes in my time,” boomed a welcome voice, “but you, my misbegotten friend, are positively the most repulsive thing I have ever come across!”

“Darkhorse!” gasped the thankful warlock. Destroying the blade had worked better than he had hoped. Valea must have made her way through the gate once the spell surrounding the cavern had been broken and warned the shadow steed of what was happening.

Whether it was due to the eternal’s derisive comment or simply because of Darkhorse’s sudden presence, the creature forgot the warlock and fixed his deadly gaze on the ebony figure confronting him.

Cabe remembered that Darkhorse knew nothing of the beast’s frightful abilities. “Don’t stand still!”

It was too late. The horror stared and howled. The warlock could not recall whether it was the stare or the cry or a combination of both that caused the victim to burn from within. Whatever the cause, it was too late to help his companion. The eternal had arrived in time to do nothing but die.

Yet, even after the creature had long stopped howling, even after it had blinked in confusion more than once, Darkhorse still stood.

A child of the Void. That was how legends had often described the eternal. He was not like any creature in the world, simply because he was not from this or any other world.

The power of Toma’s pet was useless against the black stallion. Perhaps there was no inherent heat within Darkhorse upon which the monster could work its horrible spell.

Even Toma briefly forgot about his part in the battle as he and Cabe stared at the stunning tableau.

“Well?” mocked Darkhorse. “Was that supposed to mean something?”

Outraged, the monstrosity howled and charged the eternal.

“No!” Toma snarled. “Ssstop!”

His words went unheeded. The creature leapt as it came within range of its motionless prey. Not once did it hesitate to perhaps wonder why the massive horse did not try to flee or fight. It was too furious, too filled with a bloodlust. A victim had survived its power; that could not be allowed.

Jaws opened and talons flashed as the beast fell upon Darkhorse . . . and continued to fall into his would-be prey. There were those who would have described the eternal as a living hole, a dark abyss with no bottom. Darkhorse was that and so much more. He was and was not the very emptiness in which he had been spawned.

The howl of anger became a cry of fear. Darkhorse’s form grew distorted from effort; as Cabe had suspected, his companion had not yet completely recovered from his captivity. The stallion persevered, however. It was a strange sight-it was always a strange sight-to behold. Despite the fact that the beast had stood far, far taller than Darkhorse, the monster’s entire form was dragged into the body of the shadow steed. Smaller and smaller the shadow steed’s adversary became, until at last it vanished within. The howling ceased but a moment after.

Despite all the times he had seen Darkhorse do this to his enemies, Cabe could not help but feel unsettled.

There was something different about this particular instance, however, for Darkhorse made no immediate move to take on Toma. He did not move at all, but rather stood where he was. His body literally rippled, but it did not collapse as it had done once in the past.

With effort, the shadow steed finally turned to face the renegade. The dragon eyed him warily.

“You . . . have attacked my . . . friends . . . monster! You made me a prisoner . . . and tortured me. For that . . . I will make you pay.”

It was clear that the comments concerning Darkhorse’s imprisonment only puzzled Toma, but the stallion paid that no regard. He started toward the renegade at a somewhat irregular pace.

This Toma noticed and a calculating look crossed his draconian features. “Come to me then, old nag, and show me what you can do!”

His form still shifting, the shadow steed prepared to attack.

Cabe gestured. A wall of energy appeared between Darkhorse and Toma. The shadow steed turned in confusion. “Cabe! What do you do?”

The warlock took a deep breath. His fear and rage had not been quelled, and now that he had committed himself to his present course, the two emotions began to burn with renewed force. “Take care of Kyl, Darkhorse. Forget Toma. He belongs to me.”

“What care have I for that traitorous young-”

Cabe cut him off. “Kyl helped us, Darkhorse. Grath was the traitor. Now do as I say and take Kyl from here. He needs the aid of a healer badly. If you don’t hurry, I’m afraid he might die.”

“But-”

“Take care of Valea and Ursa, too . . . please.” He had been about to say especially if I fail, but Cabe did not even want to acknowledge that likely possibility. “Now.”

Toma absorbed the exchange with something approaching amusement. “Have I given permission for thisss, human? Do you think that I will jussst let him depart with the heir?”

The warlock was grim-faced. “Yes.”

“You are mistaken, then.”

The dragon raised a paw toward Darkhorse, who, obeying Cabe, had backed toward Kyl. Dust began to rise around the shadow steed, dust that somehow clung to the eternal’s form.

“Let him be.”

The force of Cabe’s blast threw the great dragon against the steps of the dais. Toma thundered in new pain, his spell dissipating as he lost control. Smoke rose from his form. There was now a gaping hole in the already injured wing.

Darkhorse paused. “Cabe, if you and-”

“Do what I said, Darkhorse.” The mage dared not reveal just how weakened he already was. Each new assault drained him, but he could not relent. Toma was his. Toma had made himself Cabe’s. He would take the dragon whatever the cost. Whether that was the right thing or the wrong thing to do, the warlock did not care. Toma was his.

“You insolent mortal!” raged the wounded leviathan. “Who do you think you are?”

The exhausted sorcerer pulled himself up to his full height and quietly responded, “I am Cabe Bedlam.”

His next assault forced Toma partway up the dais. The renegade drake roared. Once again Cabe was awash in a storm of flame, but this time the heat and pain were barely noticeable. He pushed his way through the inferno until Toma could maintain it no longer.

The dragon was breathing heavily when the warlock again looked him in the face. For the first time, there was uncertainty in Toma’s eyes.

Cabe took the opportunity to look Darkhorse’s way. He was relieved to see that the stallion had obeyed him, for both Darkhorse and Kyl were no longer there. One weight lifted from his heart. Whatever happened here, the others were safe. Kyl and the others would spread the truth about Toma if Cabe failed.

“We’re all alone now,” he informed the renegade.

“A pity. Then no one will be able to die with you.”

“You’ll do.”

The huge head suddenly dropped toward Cabe. The warlock belatedly noted that he had never estimated the length of Toma’s neck. The world above Cabe became the wide maw of a slavering dragon.

Toma’s jaws snapped shut on the place where his rival had been, but the sorcerer had been able to dive aside at the last moment despite the dragon’s swiftness. The dragon tried once, twice, three times more. Cabe rolled over, bouncing again and again against the rock floor. He was bruised from head to toe, but at least he was alive to fight.

The knowledge did not much encourage him.

“Ceassse hopping and bouncing, flea! You only prolong what mussst be!”

“You . . . have a . . . point there,” Cabe gasped. It was now or never. If he allowed this battle to go on, Toma would defeat him through sheer stamina. The warlock could hardly keep up his present pace much longer.

Again, the human struck, choosing force over subtlety. Toma recast his shield, but while it held, the dragon was still driven to the top of the dais. Toma tried to exhale another river of flame, but only a gust of heat greeted his efforts.

Cabe pushed on, knowing that he had to be relentless. A second bolt and then a third pushed Toma nearly to the throne. The mage ascended the steps, pausing only two or three from the top.

Toma straightened, unsteady but hardly defeated.

“What does it take to put you down, warlock?”

Cabe wanted to ask him the same question, but chose to save the energy for the combat. He attacked again, and this time the dragon’s shield failed him.

Toma nearly fell upon the throne. His entire form crackled with the power that his adversary had unleashed on him. The dragon righted himself, but now he twitched from pain. His breathing was irregular.

“You cannot defeat me! I am Toma!”

Again, a taloned paw rose.

The steps around and beneath Cabe Bedlam sizzled. Bolts of blue lightning rose from the rock and assailed the warlock. They were not like ordinary lightning, for each one that assailed him remained attached like a parasite, drawing his power away and nearly forcing him to his knees.

“You are mine, warlock!” Toma the dragon roared his delight.

Gwendolyn, Valea, Aurim, Darkhorse, the Gryphon . . . all the faces formed before Cabe. They and others looked to him, called to him. Whether it was true or not, the warlock again felt that if he gave in to Toma, he would open the way for all their deaths at the renegade’s claw.

The warlock fought the lightning, even managing another step up. Toma’s cries of triumph faded as he eyed with disbelief the continued existence of his tiny bane.

Cabe drew everything he had into one last effort, aware that by doing so he might kill himself where Toma had so far failed. He met, for what he hoped was the last time, the eyes of the renegade. Cabe tried to imagine the faces of all those close to him whom Toma had already killed. Even Grath, despite the young drake’s secret allegiance. Grath had saved Cabe and Valea from the duke’s black blade.

“From the beginning,” he called to the sinister behemoth, “you’ve desired that it be you and you alone who sat on the throne as Dragon Emperor.”

“It should have been mine! I was the most worthy! I, Toma!”

Cabe ignored the outburst. “I can’t make you emperor, Toma, but the least I can do . . . is give you the throne.”

The attack that Cabe had prepared was fueled as much by his own life force as it was by the sorcerous power at his command. He reached forward with his right hand and pointed at where he knew the dragon’s heart to be. So ensnared was he by his own spell that he no longer even noticed Toma’s own withered assault.

His last view before his bolt hit Toma in the chest was the dragon’s absolute refusal to accept what was happening.

Toma’s shield was nothing to Cabe’s spell. Neither was the thick, tough, scaled hide of the deadly leviathan. The bolt burned through all, piercing the dragon completely through and not dissipating until it struck the wall far behind him.

The dragon stiffened, transfixed by the lethal assault. Toma’s massive form shivered as Cabe continued to pour his life into the effort.

“Fall, damn you!” he cried, unconsciously mimicking Toma from but a few moments before. “Why don’t you fall?”

Toma did.

With a last, pain-wracked roar, the renegade dragon fell back upon the very object he had so long desired to control. Toma’s huge body was too much for the throne, and as he fell upon it, the throne crumbled under his weight. The drake’s head swung back in a horrible arc and smashed against the rock wall to one side of the dais. A burst of fire shot briefly ceilingward as Toma exhaled.

Cabe did not move. He could not believe that, after all this time, Toma was defeated. Surely, the warlock thought, there must be some last trick.

There was none. Even as he watched, the dragon twitched feebly once or twice. The head slowly came round so that Toma could see Cabe, but the renegade’s eyes were already clouding. Even still, Toma attempted one last sneer.

It was the expression that would remain frozen on his face as he died.

Cabe Bedlam crumpled on the steps, the knowledge that Toma was dead finally giving him release. He struggled to remain conscious, but the effort of his victory had drained him too much. His eyes closed. He forced them open again, only to find an anxious Gwen peering down at him, a vision which made no sense since not only was his wife not here but he would have had to have been lying on his back to see her so. Clearly, the haggard mage thought not so clearly, he had worn himself so thoroughly that he was suffering delusions.

Then the delusion told him to go back to sleep and Cabe, knowing that he could fight the darkness no longer, finally gave in.