Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol IV Part 29

What was the land called? Nimth, that was it.

"I could think of many other places to be than Serkadion Manee's private study," Xabene muttered, her eyes darting around the room as if she expected the gnome at any moment. Quite possibly that just might happen, but they had no choice. Shade had indicated that a key to their release lay in the very heart of the immortal's domain.

Wellen was not entirely trustful of the shadowy spellcaster, but Shade had rescued him more than once.

"What are we looking for?" he asked.

The quiet laugh startled him. "A key, of course."

"A key?"

"Serkadion Manee is either often literal-minded or has a touch of dry humor. The key to opening the portal in the wall without his aid is to use a key. He apparently created a few precautions in case something happened to his powers. Very kind of him, don't you think?"

Neither Wellen nor the enchantress bothered responding. The trio commenced a rapid search of the crowded chamber, discovering almost immediately that like so much else in the citadel, appearances were deceiving. The more they searched, the more to search there seemed to be. It was as if random things simply materialized from some pocket world, like the one in Xabene's tree. In only moments, they were already wading in stack after stack of abandoned experiments and notes. Wellen could not help returning to his early days as a student, when all of his a.s.signments had seemed so mountainous.

"What do we have here?" Shade finally asked.

The others quickly joined him. It was not a key he had found, however, but a tapestry.

Looking it over, the master warlock could not keep the admiration out of his tone. "Exceptional work! Still so new! It might have been weaved yesterday!"

"It reminds me of the tapestry I weaved," whispered Xabene to Wellen.

"I would not be surprised," Shade interjected. "Since in that respect it serves a similar purpose to the one Serkadion Manee influenced you to create."

"He did?" A flush of red filled the cheeks of the pale sorceress. She did not like being used, but especially by the crafty gnome.

"It appears so, but this is not a Vraad thing. I think, despite its condition, that it was weaved even before our cursed host came to this world." Shade touched the side of the cloth artifact gingerly. "Yes, no doubt about that. He may have learned the method of its creation and pa.s.sed it on to you, but this was created by another hand . . . or claw, depending on who ruled here then."

"That's it! I will not be used again!" Xabene raised a hand toward the artifact. Shade, seeking to protect the tapestry, caught hold of her wrist. Wellen saw the look on her face and tried to warn the aged warlock, but it was too late. Not caring what happened, the enraged sorceress unleashed raw power at the struggling Shade.

He shrugged it off as a dog might shrug off rain.

With the release of her anger, Xabene grew sullen. Letting go of her wrist, the hooded figure blinked his crystalline eyes and said, "That tickled. Was that your intention?"

Wellen took hold of her before her anger, now directed at Shade, renewed itself sufficiently. "Forget it! We need him. He needs us."

"He doesn't need us. He could find this thing and leave without dragging us along with him."

The cloth-enshrouded mage shook his head. "I abandoned her. I will not abandon her children."

She looked at him in angry puzzlement. "And what does that mean?"

"Master Bedlam knows." Leaving it at that, Shade returned to admiring the tapestry. "If he did not weave this, then at the very least the gnome has made many changes in its usage. Some of them quite new. I can sense as well as see them. I wonder what purpose this marvel now serves."

Wellen, caught up by Shade's interest, was forced to admit to himself that the tapestry was certainly worthy of the attention being given to it. As with Xabene's creation, it was a representation of a region, but with such stark detail that it was like gazing at a true image. A tiny book marked the location of the Libraries. Scanning further, he easily noted the hills to the east, but then did not recognize something that lay to the southwest. He pointed at it and asked Shade, "What is that? A town? Every building looks to be there."

"Penacles. One of the human habitations that the Purple Dragon allows in his domain. Only a small human town now, but once, long before refugees from Nimth foolishly invaded the Dragonrealm and even before the reigns of the Dragon Kings, the Quel, or a dozen races who preceded them, Penacles was known as a city of knowledge. Its original builders, who may have also created this tapestry, were not human, I think . . . at least not in the end."

"It seems a strange coincidence that Serkadion Manee would pick this location," Wellen commented. His eyes narrowed and he looked at the hooded warlock. "Could he have been here that long?"

"Perhaps, but I suspect it predated even him. Despite his talk of a thousand thousand years, Manee is not that old. Not hardly. Perhaps it just seems so long to him, I do not know." Shade put a hand to his face, as if growing exhausted. "I think he must have stripped the city's ancient bones of whatever he could find, though. I once searched its ruins, even spied upon the human town in the course of my own desires, but I learned all too soon that ancient Penacles was bare of anything that might have aided me. I wondered then where it had gone. That was before I knew of him." He leaned forward. "Interesting. The entire plain, I see, was part of the original city."

"Is this thing of any use to us or are we wasting precious time?"

"It may very well be useful to us, enchantress." Shade reached up and removed it from where it hung. "This is the method by which our host may reenter the citadel directly from no matter where he is. Normal teleportation does not work, as you know. Not even for Serkadion Manee. This would have been good for times when it was vital to materialize within and not outside. I wonder . . ."

Wellen noticed a tiny slot in the wall where the tapestry had been hung. He reached into it and felt something metallic. "I think I've found our key."

"Be careful, Wellen!"

Despite Xabene's warning, he was not worried. So comfortable had Serkadion Manee become in his private quarters that he had evidently felt little reason to overprotect them. Those few who he had allowed in had never had free access to this chamber.

The key, if that was what it was, had a rounded end for holding and a stem, but that was all that resembled a key that Wellen would have recognized. The other end, the part that must touch the wall, was a wicked five-p.r.o.nged affair that looked as it if were more designed for torture than opening a lock. The scholar wondered how it was supposed to work. Turning it so that the p.r.o.ngs faced him, he noted that with so much else here, the five points made up the corners of a tiny pentagram. He mentioned this to his companions.

"A Vraadish taste, that. Pentagrams and fives." Shade folded the tapestry and thrust in into his deep cloak. He reached for the key, but Wellen chose to hold onto it. The master warlock already had the book and the tapestry. Shade took it in stride. "We have no more need to be here, then. It is time to leave this infernal place. Let the gnome and the lizard decide who its master is."

He was just beginning the spell that would teleport them out when his entire frame coursed with light. Shade, a burning sun, gasped once and fell.

"The decissssion ha.s.sss been made, thank you."

The Purple Dragon stretched forth a taloned hand and flames from the torches encircled the two mortals. Xabene tried a counterspell, but the flames would not be denied. Wellen tried to shift out of the way. He failed. Like a snake, the magical fire followed him, then darted around him again and again, tightening its circle until he could no longer move without burning himself.

"Thissss has been a mosssst informative conversation. I appreciate your effortssss on my behalf." The key flew from Bedlam's fingers and into the waiting hand of their captor. The Dragon King gazed at it in fondness. "At last! The curssssed gnome ha.s.sss made it impossssible to open the portals without thissss!"

A scratching sound made them look down. Shade was still alive. His gloved hand sc.r.a.ped against the floor, as if even while unconscious he sought to escape.

"Ressssilient. I ssssuppose I shall have to take you with me," the drake lord said to the still figure. "You might have some knowledge of worth."

Shade's body rose into the air, making him look like a limp marionette with invisible strings. The Dragon King turned to his other two captives. "This time, I will not trust to chance. My will is your will. Your bodies will move as I command."

Wellen, with Xabene beside him, staggered toward the drake. This time, Purple had a.s.sured that his control was complete. The only movements left to the scholar were blinking and breathing. He could not even ask the question that burned on his tongue.

The Dragon King must have noted his expression, however, for he held one of his taloned hands before the human. "For an immortal, the gnome died a.s.sss ea.s.sssily a.s.sss any mere mortal!" Straightening, the drake looked at the key, then back at his prisoners. "Now I truly have everything. All I need issss to ssssecure you ssssafely and then I can return and begin the processss of going through thissss treasure trove." Purple's eyes blazed with antic.i.p.ation. "Sssso much to do!"

Even if he had been able to speak, Wellen Bedlam would have not contradicted the Dragon King. Let the drake believe that it would now be a simple task to escape. If there was one thing the young scholar had learned, it was that nothing was simple in this place. Serkadion Manee might be dead, if what the Dragon King had said was true, but this was his creation.

The Purple Dragon could continue to believe his own words, as far as Bedlam was concerned. Let him think that he could simply walk out of this place. Let him believe that with the gnome no more, he was now unchallenged master of the libraries and their contents.

Wellen knew better. Even without their creator, the libraries were lethal.

Had the Dragon King waited for a few more moments after delivering the mortal blow to Serkadion Manee, he would have perhaps seen a strange thing happen to the Vraad sorcerer. With a few vestiges of life still remaining, the body began to sink into the false marble floor and, as it sank, it changed, becoming less and less the gnome and more a part of the very floor itself.

Serkadion Manee had designed his libraries so that nothing would be ever be wasted.

Not even him.

In the corridor where they had first entered, the party appeared. Shade was still a silent corpse. He might truly have been dying for all Wellen knew, but there was nothing that could be done about it at the moment. All of their lives were in the scaly claws of the Dragon King and his concern at present had little to do with their well-being.

Holding out the p.r.o.nged key, Purple returned control of the scholar's body to him. Wellen savored the ability to move, then looked up at his captor.

"How doessss thissss work? There issss no hole."

"Shade knew," Bedlam replied with some satisfaction. "But you made certain he wouldn't be able to help."

For his remark, he received a backhanded blow to the face. It was only a tap, but from the Dragon King it was enough to send the human falling back. When Wellen rose, he felt blood trickling down the left side of his mouth. Now, not only did his head throb, but so did his jaw.

"Again, how doessss thissss work? Another flippant remark and I shall tear your head off! Then, we shall ssssee if your female will be more obliging!"

The threat to Xabene was sufficient. Looking at the blank wall and then back at the key, Wellen shrugged. "I would guess that the first step would be to place it against the wall. From what little the-Shade said, it sounds like the only thing you can do." He had almost mentioned the single volume that the hooded warlock still had secreted on his person. That single dragon tome might yet save their lives. "After that, I can only a.s.sume that it will either open or you'll have to turn it first."

"Ssssimple. Ssssensible. I agree." The Dragon King stepped past his captives and placed the key against the stonelike wall.

Nothing happened. He tried turning the key, causing it to sc.r.a.pe against the substance. Wellen almost expected the living stone to rebel against the sharp p.r.o.ngs of the key, but that was not so.

This time, there was a reaction.

With great hesitation, the wall began to separate around the region where the p.r.o.ngs of the key had touched it. The drake quickly pulled the device away and hissed in triumph as the crack became a circular opening which in turn grew larger and larger. Once again, the scholar was reminded of a giant maw, only this time he was inside looking out. Not a comfortable thought.

"Much better!" Purple roared. "Much better!"

The opening of the wall was much slower this time than when they had first arrived here. Now, with success at hand, the Dragon King grew impatient. He stood before the expanding portal and tried to use physical means to make it widen faster. That failed. In an attempt to keep his impatience at a minimum, the drake turned away from the exit and faced Wellen.

"Conssssider yoursssself fortunate, manling. You have been witnessss to the end of one era and the beginning of the next. Thissss will be the dawning of a new kingdom. The Dragon Emperor will ssssoon on longer ssssit in the Tyber Mountains. He shall rule from here! From . . . from a new Penaclessss, yesss! I shall ressssurrect the ancient city!" It was obvious that the Purple Dragon did not intend to turn over the gnome's vast knowledge to his golden counterpart but rather intended that he become new lord of the realm. Even with the knowledge of Serkadion Manee, Wellen wondered whether Purple was taking on more than he was capable of controlling. Certainly, the other monarchs would have something to say.

The portal was now large enough to admit the Dragon King through. Wellen was surprised to see that the sun was setting. Was it the same day? Another? Time here, he was certain, did not pa.s.s as it did outside.

Purple started to step through, then recalled something. He turned and went back to the silent form of Shade. With little care, the drake rolled the warlock onto his backside and reached into the volumnous cloak.

Move, Shade! Bedlam expected a trick, expected the spellcaster to leap up and take on the Dragon King, but Shade remained motionless. This was no ploy, which meant that now there truly was no hope.

"Dragon of the Depthssss! How far musssst I reach to find it?" A moment later, the horrific knight smiled. He pulled his hand from the confines of the cloak. In his claws he held the tapestry. "Yesss. Lessst I forget it and it remain losssst in your infernal clothes. Thissss piece issss definitely worth insssspecting."

Outside, a wind whipped up the nearby gra.s.s. Wellen contemplated running for the portal, but he could not leave Xabene nor even Shade.

Rising, the Dragon King looked over the intricate work of the artifact. "I wonder. A few changessss and I may be able to usssse thissss. No more keyssss. I will have the only way in and out."

A flutter of wings caught Wellen's attention.

A huge, white form that seemed all claws and wings darted through the portal and made for the backside of the drake.

The reptilian knight dropped both the key and the tapestry as he went down under the onslaught of a monstrous Necri.

Acting on sheer instinct, Wellen rushed to Xabene's side. She, of the three of them, was the only one still under a spell of paralysis. Shade, after all, was hardly in a condition to crawl, if he was even still alive. Taking hold of the enchantress by the waist, he started to drag her toward the opening.

Despite his lack of height and his scholarly background, he was far from weak. Xabene was also light, which helped. Even before Purple had recovered from his initial surprise and started to fight back, Wellen had her in the mouth of the portal.

What he hoped to gain, he could not say. Wellen was aware that he could not carry her all the way to safety. There was nowhere to hide for miles. No matter who won the battle, the victor would easily be able to chase down the runaways.

Still, he did not give up. Wellen would not have been able to forgive himself. Too many had died. If he could even buy Xabene a little time . . .

The wind cooled him a little bit, which helped, but the soil was too soft. He could not get much traction. The oncoming darkness, which he would have once thought a plus, also worked against him. Both the Necri and Purple would be able to find him, day or night. Wellen, on the other hand, could already tell that he was no longer gifted with night vision. b.u.mbling around in the dark, with Xabene an unwieldly load, he would not be far from the pentagon when the winner came to reclaim the two of them.

"You look as if you could use my aid, sirrah."

Bedlam swore.

"Such language," Benton Lore said, adding a chuckle.

"Does no one walk or simply ride anymore? Did you have to materialize right behind me?"

"I did nothing of the sort. I crept here."

Feeling somewhat abashed, the scholar apologized.

The black man waved his apology aside. "Never mind that. Let me help you with her."

A single touch of his hand to her forehead and Xabene was released from the Dragon King's spell.

"Lords of the Dead!" she muttered.

"Good," Lore commented almost clinically. "I did not think he would waste anything fancy upon you."

"How are you feeling?" Wellen asked her.

"Good enough to run if we have to."

"There is no need, my lady. I can teleport us all back." The major-domo raised his hand.

Wellen wanted to go. He wanted to travel as far as he could, and then find ways of allowing him to journey farther. By no means did he desire a return to Serkadion Manee's former domain. Yet . . .

"I can't leave him, Xabene."

She seized his arm. "There's a Dragon King and a Necri in there! My Necri! If that thing should win or be fought off, it'll come for me! I failed the Lords of the Dead! Shade may have repelled them, but that monstrosity won't care! It only knows that I have betrayed its creators!"

"Go with Commander Lore, then. I have more than one reason for going back! Just trust me!" He tore free of her and hurried back to the gaping hole.

She did not cry out for him, but Bedlam knew she was still behind him, refusing to leave if he did not. Wellen hoped that neither Xabene nor Benton Lore would suffer because of his decision.

The drake and the Necri had taken their battle farther down the corridor. Wellen had expected the batlike creature to fall quickly under the ma.s.sive power of Purple, but the dragon appeared to be holding back. Either he was weaker than Wellen had thought or he was afraid to unleash his full strength so near his precious books. The drake had, after all, resorted to physical violence when he had finally taken down Serkadion Manee. Neither the gnome nor the dragon had likely been able to utilize their full strength.

Shade was where he had been left. The fear that he had accidentally been included in the deadly duel had proved false. Wellen slipped through the circular entranceway and rushed over to the warlock, ever careful to keep an eye on the combatants. With two such as they, the battle could turn at any moment.

"Shade!" There was no response to his whisper. He was forced to begin dragging the injured figure as he had Xabene. Unfortunately, Shade's much larger and more limp body proved at least twice as laborious to carry as the slighter enchantress. The false marble floor added to the difficulties, for Wellen found that he was in danger of slipping now and then.

Something fell from the cloak. Wellen leaned down and saw that it was the dragon tome that the aged spellcaster had appropriated much earlier. He picked it up and stuffed it into his shirt. There would be time to deal with it later.

Benton Lore called to him from the other side. "Do you need help?"