Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

II

How could he be so foolish? she asked herself again as she rode along the narrow ridge. Above her, a clear, starlit night greeted her, but just ahead she could already hear the boom of thunder, the crackle of lightning.

The border of Wenslis lay only an hour’s ride away.

She reined the mare to a halt, staring in the direction of the other kingdom. That a storm raged over Wenslis despite the open heavens here did not surprise her in the least. Foul weather often swept over Wenslis, for was it not a symbol of the absolute hold its master had on the land?

Dragon Kings forsook the names they bore when they took up rule of their realms. Whatever title he had gone by long ago, this one was now known as the Storm Dragon. He wielded primal forces that shook even the neighboring lands at times. But wielding such godlike powers had eventually brought this reptilian monarch to the brink of madness and beyond. Now, he truly imagined himself a deity, if only of his own drenched kingdom.

Lady Gwendolyn Bedlam pursed her lips. A cascade of fiery hair accented by a deep streak of silver tumbled down both her back and her chest. Her emerald eyes gleamed dangerously at the thought of what might happen to her son. In truth, she looked no older than Aurim, her firstborn, a gift of her powerful wizardry.

The form-fitting riding outfit matched perfectly her eyes. The enchantress sniffed the air, her upturned nose sensing more than smells. Gwen could feel the powerful forces at work, but among them she noted something else, something only she and perhaps her husband had the skill to detect.

Aurim had ridden this way. His distinctive magical trail continued on to the northeast. She frowned again. There was no mistaking that he had entered Wenslis.

With growing anxiety, Gwen urged her horse on. Yssa was to blame for this. The Green Dragon’s daughter had seduced her son as she had tried to once do to Cabe. How long it had been going on, she did not know. Only an argument with Aurim’s sister, Valea, had caused the truth to come out. In an attempt to avert some of the fury directed toward her, Valea had pointed out her brother’s own transgression.

Gwen had ridden off that same day.

Only a few hours out, she had used divination to seek his path . . . and then had made an even more horrible discovery. Against all common sense, he and the half-drake had apparently chosen an area just inside the border of Wenslis for their clandestine meetings. She understood the illogical logic of the lovers; who would seek them in such a foreboding land? Yet, to place their lives in such jeopardy made no sense at all . . .

If only I can find them before the Dragon King notices their presence! That vixen! This is her doing . . .

Trying to calm her heated thoughts, she concentrated on Aurim only. Yssa could handle her own affairs. The Green Dragon had been one of Gwen’s early mentors, but he had betrayed her trust and it seemed the daughter followed the parent’s trait.

“Focus!” Gwen hissed at herself. Aurim. She had to think only of Aurim.

Still the night sky directly above stood as cloudless as possible, yet just ahead the storm raged. Gwen drew her travel cloak tighter as she neared the border.

The moment she crossed the invisible line separating Penacles from Wenslis, the full fury of the tempest fell upon her. Her horse whinnied in shock, then stumbled. Gwen twisted the reins, regained control. The mare quieted.

Ahead of her, the enchantress made out the dark shadows of trees and other vegetation. It amazed her that anything could grow here, but Wenslis had more vegetation than she had ever imagined. As she passed the first trees, she identified them as willows, not a surprise in such a wet landscape. Still, plants were one thing; people were another. How did the humans and others serving the Dragon King survive the almost perpetual rain?

Aurim’s trail suddenly grew more faint, more difficult to track. It was not that it had faded, but rather that the storm itself contained so much raw magic that it disrupted her higher senses. The crimson-tressed spellcaster gazed up at the turbulent sky, suddenly feeling as if she was being watched. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the clouds, but nothing more.

Trying to shake away her uncertainties, she leaned forward and urged the horse to better speed. Perhaps eager to finish this madness and return to a more calm realm, the mare obeyed with gusto. Gwen breathed easier as she raced along. She still detected some hint of Aurim and so long as even a trace remained, she felt certain that she would find him.

Through the swampy forest Gwen rode. The lightning created monstrous displays-huge grasping tentacles and fingers, creatures with heads full of snakes. They were all merely the twisted forms of Wenslis’s trees, but even knowing that, the enchantress could not help stiffening each time a new outline formed.

Then a bolt struck the willow just to her right. The explosion turned bright the entire vicinity and set the tree on fire. Gwen’s horse veered away from the danger.

And in that instant, situated between two more distant trees, she saw a cloaked and hooded form watching her.

Before Gwen could refocus on the spot, the last vestiges of lightning faded. Even the fire from the willow proved insufficient to illuminate the area she desired.

Reining the mare to a halt, Gwen turned back to where the figure had stood.

Another bolt struck the tree nearest her.

Now the mare panicked. It was all Gwen could do to keep from falling off. Although wary of possible detection, she cast a minor spell to calm the animal.

But before she could complete it, branches enveloped her from every direction. They entangled her arms, blinded her, even snared her legs. The mare, now free of her control, pulled away, leaving Gwen caught like a fly in a web of wood and leaves.

She tried to concentrate enough to free herself, but the branches spun her around, turned her upside down. The leaves in her face made it almost impossible to even breathe.

An imposing presence touched her thoughts. It said nothing, but the sheer power behind it made her certain that it could only be one being.

The Storm Lord had discovered her intrusion.

Lightning flared again. Through a few narrow gaps in her tightening prison, Gwen caught a glimpse of several figures moving through the raging weather. They looked human in form, but wearing outlandish armor with broad, curved shoulders like tiny, overturned boats and helmets with wide, sloping brims. Pale faces peered out from under the helmets, the eyes all focused on the struggling enchantress.

One raised what looked like a pear with a flower on the end to her face. The figure squeezed the object and a puff of scented air struck Gwen full.

She did not even notice when she blacked out.

He watched with clinical interest as the soldiers removed their unconscious captive from the willows with remarkable gentleness. He could have saved her then, but he had not decided whether he wanted to or not. Still, she presented not only a marvelous coincidence, but an interesting diversion to keep him from having to contemplate other, more difficult matters.

He pulled his dark cloak tight around him and as he did, his entire body seemed to fold into it, growing thinner and thinner in the blink of an eye-until he was gone.