XXVI

 

Lord Jekrith

Hadeen fed the baby a small amount of deer milk, a not uncommon offering for elven infants. Cabe swallowed the drops eagerly. The half-elf smiled. Hadrea’s son was now full of life, a sharp contrast to before.

The smile faded. Now that Cabe was healthy, the child also faced a new problem. Even before Nathan’s desperate work, the half-elf had already noted the baby’s unique magical potential. Cabe had been everything Azran and his dark companions had desired and more. Now, though, thanks to what the elder Bedlam had sacrificed, that potential had magnified incredibly.

Unfortunately, that meant that Cabe would sooner or later draw the attention of other powerful forces, especially the Dragon Kings. Hadeen knew that he could not shield the infant forever, but he needed to give Hadrea’s son a chance to grow old enough to be able to defend himself should something befall the half-elf.

There were spells that came to mind, spells that would leave Hadeen drained for quite some time to come, but the half-elf was willing to make that sacrifice. All that mattered was to choose the spell that would best help the infant ---

Someone knocked on the cabin door.

Hadeen quickly set his new charge down on the bed, then covered him loosely with a blanket. Then, moving with the natural stealth of his kind, he drew a dagger and headed toward the door. Simultaneously, Hadeen began to focus his elemental powers on the dagger.

“There is no need for that,” came a voice so even in tone the half-elf’s ears could not divine whether it was male or female.

He spun to face a figure more draped in cloth than Shade. Try as he might, Hadeen could not make out one feature that could reveal to him even the gender, much less the race.

“There is no need for that,” the voice echoed. “There is a better way.”

The half-elf finally realized that the intruder meant Hadeen’s intentions for Cabe.

“Who are you?” demanded Hadeen. “What do you mean?"

“There is a path...but only one path. Will you take it for the child’s sake?”

Hadeen frowned. “I will do anything I must for his sake...and that includes defending him from you, if nec---”

Before he could finish, the deep hood of the intruder’s garment slipped back of its own accord, revealing the truth of what lay within.

Hadeen gaped, then lowered his dagger.

 

 

Floating above Penacles, Azran drank in the moment of his triumph. Through the Horned Blade, he now had access to more power than any other spellcaster in history and soon that power would be his to wield forever.

All he had to do was follow the sword’s commands.

Jekrith Terin’s commands.

Which meant, at least to Nathan’s son, that he had to be ready to betray his supposed ally before the seneschal’s spirit betrayed him.

Azran grinned wider. That moment was very near at hand. Very near.

 

 

Nathan stared at Darkhorse, who hovered frozen in mid-air. The icy blue eyes looked at the wizard, but did not seem to actually see him.

“Do not stop!” Yalak’s voice shouted again. “Give him all he can devour! Do it!”

“Yalak! Can you --- do you hear me?”

The shadow steed cocked his head, but it was the dead wizard who continued to speak. “I know you will understand, Nathan! I do not expect you to forgive me, but you will understand...”

Darkhorse suddenly shook his head. His gaze focused again. When he spoke next, it was with his own voice. “Master Nathan! Have you lost your wits? The other wizard is not here with us...or is he?”

It was clear to Nathan that Darkhorse had no inkling as to his brief possession by Yalak’s spell. That hardly surprised Nathan, who knew well how skilled his old friend had been. Yalak had obviously foreseen this moment or at least something akin to it and planned accordingly.

But while Nathan could appreciate Yalak’s efforts even after death, the elder Bedlam wished that his comrade could have made his reasons for his declaration clearer. Unfortunately, Nathan could also appreciate from past experience how Yalak had usually kept from telling the others everything due to the fact that their foreknowledge might end up steering events in the worst direction possible.

Of course, at the moment, Nathan could not imagine a worse direction than the one currently left to the rebellion.

He had to make a quick decision. Yalak had to have had good reasons for using Darkhorse, but Nathan also remained aware that the other wizard’s ability to foresee the future had not always been entirely accurate.

Nathan stared at his son and the sword. Yalak’s intention suddenly became clear to him. The dead wizard’s warning made sense...but did not go far enough.

Nathan saw only one chance. “Darkhorse! Stay with me no matter how I correct our spell!”

“As you wish!”

Even as the shadow steed responded, Nathan contacted the Gryphon. I’m about to do something you will not like! I ask that you trust me throughout it!

Do what you must! I don’t think we have much more time left to us!

That was certainly true, Nathan sensed. The dragon was nearly corporeal. When Jekrith Terin achieved that, the magic of Penacles would truly be his to wield.

His alone...

Nathan concentrated. He did not dismiss the spell already in progress, but rather magnified its might.

Magic poured into Azran and the Horned Blade. Nathan felt his son eagerly take in all he could. Nathan could sense Azran’s hunger for as much power as he could wield. The spell surrounding the book stolen from the libraries and its connection to the Horned Blade enabled Azran to readjust his body so that it became a more efficient vessel for the bounty he received.

Jekrith Terin also welcomed the increase in power. The renegade Seeker’s jubilation was unmistakable. Soon, the former seneschal would have the ability to wreak his vengeance on all his people, then become the god he so felt he deserved to be.

At that point, Nathan adjusted his attack.

The stream of energy shifted toward the book. The moment it did, the dragon shimmered, then grew larger yet. Jekrith Terin’s roared his pleasure. With one wing, he swatted scores of Seekers, then laughed.

“Behold, Dragonrealm!” the former seneschal shouted to all around. “Behold your new god!”

He exhaled, sending magical flames that ravaged the front ranks of the drake force. Under the horrific barrage, the last vestiges of opposition broke. The drake lines went into full retreat. Nathan knew that even Duke Kyrg would be unable to halt it.

The only remaining attackers were the smaller dragons hovering in the sky. Three attempted to take on Jekrith Terin.

With a single breath, he turned one to ash. A huge paw seized another and crushed it. The third, now realizing the folly, tried to veer around.

Jekrith Terin’s wing swept over the last of the trio. The behemoth’s inherent magical forces enveloped the smaller dragon. Scale crumbled. Flesh seared. Bone blackened.

The ruined corpse dropped down on the fleeing invaders.

Nathan had no sympathy for the drakes, but neither did he take heart in the seneschal’s slaughter of the enemy. Jekrith Terin was only preserving the city because it had value to him. The wizard had no doubt that the renegade had every intention of purging the City of Knowledge of most if not all its inhabitants.

The Gryphon suddenly interjected himself into the mage’s thoughts. Nathan! Are you certain of this? He’s growing too powerful!

Have patience! I know what will --- what must happen! However, even Nathan had his doubts at that moment. He wondered if he had made a terrible misjudgment ---

But at last, as he had hoped, another force attempted to rip away at the bounty the wizard and his companions had offered to Jekrith Terin.

Azran had finally acted.

 

 

He had expected his supposed ally to betray him, but instead, his own father had once again been the one seeking to steal away his glory. Azran snarled as he gripped the Horned Blade with both hands. He would not allow anyone to ever again keep him from all that was his.

Jekrith Terin and the Vraad spirit might have guided him in forging the black sword, but Azran had hardly been their simple puppet. Each time he had worked on the enchanted weapon, he had secretly infused it with subtle spells of his own. The Horned Blade might have housed the essence of the seneschal, but it was still ultimately Azran’s creation.

With but a thought, Nathan’s son set those hidden spells into motion. The Horned Blade shimmered a dark green.

The angry roar that erupted from above informed him that Jekrith Terin had noticed what he was doing, but by then it was too late for the spirit to do anything. Jekrith Terin had already committed himself enough to the dragon form that Azran had greater mastery of the Horned Blade.

Utilizing the sword, Azran drew the stream of power through the stolen book and into the sword. He felt the surge of energy flow through him. Nathan’s son laughed. Now it was he who would be the Dragonrealm’s god. He and he alone.

Except...that was something that Jekrith Terin clearly did not want to allow. The sword’s hilt suddenly blazed as the renegade Seeker attempted to wrest control. Azran screamed in pain, but did not let go despite his blistering hands. Through his agony, he fought back the other’s will.

It is time to sever our alliance, Jekrith Terin remarked.

The Horned Blade nearly wrenched itself free of Azran’s grasp. Only Azran’s incredible determination kept him from relinquishing his prize.

“We’ll sever it all right,” he murmured to the unseen Seeker. “but I’ll be keeping what’s mine!”

He turned the power back on Jekrith Terin, using the same spellwork that enabled the former seneschal to feed from the magic to better attack the renegade Seeker from within.

Jekrith Terin roared again. Azran suddenly found himself tossed through the air. Maintaining a death grip on the hilt, he flew through the dragon’s fiery body and into the open.

The moment that he was free of the behemoth, Azran transported himself to one of the nearby buildings. He materialized facing his treacherous ally, the Horned Blade already pointed at the dragon’s chest.

And pointed at the stolen book.

Come to me, Azran ordered. Come to me!

The heavy tome formed before him. As it did, Jekrith Terin’s new form lost cohesion. Nathan’s son smiled as he reached for the book.

His hand went through. With a snarl, Azran watched the book vanish.

“Did you think I would stand idly by at your expected moment of turning?” Jekrith Terin mocked through the dragon. “Serve me, as I was forced to serve, and I will make you first among my slaves!”

“No...I think the idea all along is that you would teach me all I know and give me all you could!” Nathan’s son nodded. “You’ve done that and, without the Vraad to provide me more, I’ve no need of you...” That proclaimed, Azran brandished the sword.

“But you make yet another mistake, Azran Bedlam,” Jekrith Terin/the dragon remarked with much humor. “You assume, very wrongly, that the sword you hold is yours to wield at all, when, in fact, it is the sword that wields you.”

The Horned Blade twisted in Azran’s grip, the sharp edge rushing toward his face.

 

 

Nathan had judged not only his son well, but Jekrith Terin, too. Neither could cede power to the other, not without a struggle. It mattered not that they were surrounded by foes. Each assumed that if he could wrest everything away from the other, than all other enemies would quickly fall afterward.

That lack of concern would not last long, if the elder Bedlam was any judge, but he prayed he would have enough time to do what needed to be done. He had one more part to his plan, one that demanded even more use of the stone. Nathan doubted that even Yalak could have foreseen exactly what Azran’s father had in mind...and if Yalak had, he might have warned Nathan against it.

Darkhorse! No matter what happens, you must help the Gryphon keep Penacles from falling! If Penacles stands, there will always be hope!

I will do as you say, Master Bedlam, but ---

Nathan cut him off. Gryphon! You are the last bastion of the rebellion! You must rule well, rule strong! This war may not have gone as we hoped, but you must continue to stand against the Dragon Kings, no matter how long!

Nathan ---

Listen! From Azran comes the future! Seek Hadeen! He knows!

The lionbird clearly did not understand his cryptic statement, but Nathan feared that he had already passed on too much information. While he felt fairly confident in his ability to mask his thoughts, it was possible that fragments might be sensed by someone powerful, such as Duke Kyrg or any Dragon King possibly mentally probing the struggle.

As you think best, then, the Gryphon replied. I will do what I can. Take care, Nathan Bedlam.

Dismissing the Gryphon from his thoughts, Nathan concentrated on Azran. It was through his son that this would best work.

Nathan concentrated...and appeared before Azran just in time to apparently save him from his own creation.

With one smooth shift, the Horned Blade swept past Azran’s face --- missing it by a hair --- and came around to thrust at the elder Bedlam.

Nathan had been expecting just that. He held the stone in the sword’s path and gritted his teeth.

Sparks flew as the blade struck. Prepared for the collision of powers, Nathan kept his gaze averted.

Caught unaware, Azran had no time to protect his eyes. He cried out, then released one hand from the hilt in order to belatedly try to block the searing light.

In doing so, he gave Nathan the opportunity he needed. The veteran wizard grabbed the hilt and tore it free.

The Horned Blade turned oddly quiet the moment Nathan tightened his grip. Its stillness did not in the least fool the mage. He knew Jekrith Terin well enough to understand that the renegade Seeker saw this as a new opportunity. Why use the son as a puppet when the father would do even better?

Sure enough, the former seneschal’s mind filled Nathan’s head. It is you who was born to wield this, my creation, Nathan Bedlam...you, not that mere shadow, that murderous child who slew your beloved Dayn! Punish him, Nathan Bedlam! Punish him as he must be punished for his crimes...

Despite being well aware what Jekrith Terin intended, Nathan still had to fight down the impulse to do as the maimed Seeker. The former seneschal’s power had grown exponentially. The wizard knew that the longer he delayed, the greater the chance that he might actually fall to Jekrith Terin’s whispers.

Nathan flung away the Horned Blade as hard as he could. He fueled his throw with a strong burst of magic, sending the enchanted weapon far.

And as the Horned Blade hurtled away, Nathan transported himself to the book.

The effort to keep himself aloft while at the same time protecting himself from the violent energies surging through the fiery dragon continued to drain Nathan. His chest pounded but he pressed on, finally touching the stone to the book.

Where the two touched, raw energy shot in every direction. Nathan prayed his shields would hold. He reached for the book ---

No, Nathan Bedlam...victory is not yours...

The magical forces around the wizard and the book coalesced into a familiar shape. The tall, ominous form of a Seeker rose above the human. He had dark feathers, a slight crest, and eyes as black as coals. His talons were long and sharp.

Victory is mine, Jekrith Terin mocked as he reached toward Nathan. You, at long last, are mine...as it was all planned from the beginning not by ghosts, not by Dragon Kings, and not by Seekers...but by your friend, your brother...

The Seeker’s shape changed. It shortened a bit, turned human in form, then took on the familiar robes of a spellcaster.

And then, it took on the face of Yalak.