XV

 

Discovery

 

“Toma! Where are you, my ssson?”

The young duke quickly raced into the great throne room, where his father filled the dais around the throne. As the war against the mages had stretched on, the Dragon Emperor had forsaken the more preferred humanoid form for his original. The leviathan glanced from left to right as his son entered, almost as if the emperor expected to find his enemies coming at him from both sides.

He is losing control again, Toma thought as he suppressed a shudder. I must assuage him.

The whims of fate had prevented Toma from his proper destiny. Without the proper birth markings, he remained, in the eyes of many, a minor servant of his father. The truth, though, was much different. More and more, Toma had made certain that his word reached the emperor’s ear.

But none of that would matter if his father fell from power, either due to his growing paranoia or victory by the rebels. That was one reason why Toma had begun to craft his own plans behind the scene, such as his secret bargain with Lord Brown. Lord Brown had power and influence Toma needed to increase his standing and had promised to back the younger drake openly. Perhaps the lowly son of the emperor could not inherit the throne, but he would be the power behind it.

If he could manage to keep his father’s mind from fracturing to pieces.

“I am here, my lord and father,” Toma murmured as he went down on one knee before the emperor.

“Toma! Your brother nears Penacles? The others are in place?”

“All goes as intended,” the duke assured him. “Your grand strategy will soon bring the walls down and return the libraries to your control.”

“My control...yesss, they will be under my control.” The emperor chuckled. “Sssomething no emperor hasss ever been able to claim...”

“No, my lord. You are truly the greatest of emperors. Foolish are those who would think that they could stand against even your shadow.”

The huge head dipped down to better view Toma. “My loyal ssson...you serve me well and I know it. You have stood with me when there is no gain for you...”

“I am content to see my efforts guarantee the continued power of the emperor.”

“And for that, you will be rewarded. You will, my favored ssson.”

The emperor pulled back. He closed his eyes and smiled.

Toma waited a moment more, then rising, silently backed out of the chamber. The moment he was out of sight of his father, the young duke hissed in frustration.

Spinning about, Toma located a secluded area in the great cavern complex and concentrated. He disliked the need for what he had to do now, but his brief audience with his father had stirred his own uncertainties.

Come to me, ghost...come to me now...

Toma waited. He waited longer. He waited until it was clear that no one intended to respond.

And that only made his uncertainty grow. The necromancer Ephraim never failed to reply in some manner. At the very least, Toma would have thought that he would have sent the female spectre Kadaria to placate the drake.

Sssomething is amiss. Even the coming battle would not keep him from responding.

He reached out to Lord Brown. Unlike the Lords of the Dead, the Dragon King responded immediately.

This, I would assume, isss very urgent? Lord Brown asked.

There isss something amiss with the necromancersss. They cannot be sensed. Isss all still in motion?

The Brown Dragon exhaled sharply. All is ssstill in motion. All will sssucceed. Ressst assured that very soon the balance of power will shift forever in the Dragonrealm...

The Dragon King spoke with such confidence that Toma finally calmed. When he seesss --- sees --- what you have achieved, you will become first among my father’s vassals. I promise you that.

Of coursse. Lord Brown paused, then added, I mussst go.

The drake lord severed the link before Toma could. The duke exhaled. Sssoon, Father, you will sssee that I am the key to your continued rule...and that I am the future of the Dragonrealm...

 

 

Lord Brown hissed once he was certain that contact with the younger drake had been cut off. Baring his teeth, he muttered, “Fool...”

 

 

An exhausted Darkhorse materialized in the Dragonrealm, the stone still a part of him. He had done what he could to keep Shade from escaping the Void, but knew that the warlock would find a way before long. The only thing that had thus far prevented Shade from trying was the shrouded figure’s own desperate attempt to stave off death for as long as possible. His next incarnation would waste no time in trying to find a weakness in Darkhorse’s work.

The ebony stallion reared as he surveyed his chosen location. The two dead founders sealed behind the wall continued their endless, silent cries. The third one, the one from which he knew Azran Bedlam had stolen a small artifact, appeared to exclaim his disappointment in Darkhorse for choosing such an obvious location to try to hide the warlock’s creation.

No...I cannot leave it here, Darkhorse reluctantly decided. Azran may return here on occasion.

The eternal had never actually confronted the reckless wizard here, but he could sense the minute traces of Azran’s magical signature. Nathan’s youngest had been here several times, which made the fact that the great mechanism sealed behind the wall had not been touched all the more curious. Darkhorse was well aware just how coveted such a thing would be to most spellcasters, yet, Azran had only stolen the key to making it work.

But why would he ignore such treasure for a relatively minor trinket --- unless ---

There was no hint of Shade ever having discovered this cavern. Indeed, the only reason that Darkhorse knew about it had to do with Ethas Bedlam. Darkhorse had been one of the reasons that Ethas had turned from his masters, a venture on the shadow steed’s part that had ended in tragedy.

Alas, Ethas, I seem to be doing your kin no better. The eternal took one last look around. Fortune had smiled on the Dragonrealm in one way; both Azran and the monstrous spirits surrounding him appeared not to realize just what a prize they had ignored. They had used it only as a ploy to draw Shade into the position they desired. Had they truly studied the mechanism, they would have realized that much of the desires could have been granted here and now.

Darkhorse snorted. Or perhaps not. These three founders had believed that they could achieve their desires. Their own kind had proven how wrong those beliefs had been.

The eternal did not know this from his own experience. Ethas Bedlam had gleaned it all through tremendous effort and a fatal determination.

“So many deaths, so many failures...may whatever gods watch over this land enable those of your blood to finally succeed, Ethas...” With that prayer uttered, the shadow steed pondered his next choice. At last he came to a determination.

“It is still best...it is still best...”

And with that, he vanished in a swirl of energy, leaving the ancient dead to continue their endless, silent screams.

 

 

Samir finally slept. Nathan exhaled, glad the turmoil of the last hours had finally come to an end. The other mage’s descent into near-madness had come so abruptly that the elder Bedlam had at first expected some insidious plot by one of the Dragon Kings. Yet, after a thorough magical investigation, Nathan had found no hint of drake magic.

There was something, though. It had a familiar touch to it, but Nathan could not say how.

The Gryphon could, however. “I know that trace, Master Bedlam! Once, it wore the form of a dragon made of mist.”

They had discussed the absence of the creature since it had come to the lionbird’s aid in the libraries. Both of them had believed it had sacrificed itself, but as the ancient servant itself had once pointed out, it had been designed to be resilient.

However... “If what you say is true, Gryphon, why not simply materialize before us? Why affect Samir as it has?”

“Would that I knew, but there must be some urgent reason and it appears to concern your youngest.”

That was a fact all too clear, thanks to Samir’s last sensible words. What was not clear was what the other wizard had believed he would find in the libraries. Samir had spoken as if the libraries had promised him some counter to the darkness Azran had been gathering around him, especially the sword.

Nathan sighed. “It always seems to come back to Azran. In the midst of all this chaos, things keep coming back to my son.” The wizard stared off. “I’d like to return to the libraries, if you don’t mind.”

“I was about to suggest that myself. We may be able to concentrate better with Samir resting. I will have someone keep an eye on him.” The Gryphon departed for a moment. Upon his return, he nodded. “All set. Shall we go?”

Their return to the libraries was done without fanfare. The pair stood waiting, but no librarian appeared.

“This is very odd,” the lionbird muttered. “In my short time here, I’ve never been left alone.”

“No, that shouldn’t happen.” Nathan studied the corridors. “Gryphon...this is where we fought Lord Purple.”

“Why does that not make me feel any more comfortable? He is dead, isn’t he?”

Having already wondered about that, Nathan focused. “I sense nothing but old, residual traces. If his spirit survived, I can’t tell.”

The Gryphon closed his eyes. Opening them a moment later, he muttered, “I sense only the same as you.”

“You seem more and more at ease with your power. I’m glad to see that. You’ll need every weapon at your disposal if ---”

The new lord of Penacles cocked his head. “’If’ what?”

“If the Dragon Kings unleash some attack other than what we expect from them.”

They both knew it was not what the mage had actually intended on saying, but the Gryphon merely nodded and moved on. Nathan followed, the two warily eyeing the row upon row of ancient tomes.

A thud made the pair jump. Nathan was the first to turn around.

One of the heavy tomes lay on its spine. There was no hint of how it had fallen from its spot on the shelf, but what interested the wizard more was that the book lay open to a pair of pages that hardly seemed random. There were too many pages on one side, which meant that balance would have caused the rest to follow.

With caution, Nathan went down on one knee and took up the tome. As he did, something flickered from the left page to the right. Although it vanished immediately after, the mage glimpsed just enough to be certain he knew what it was.

The illustration of a dragon. A dragon half mist.

And as that sank in, two words scrolled across the pages in the ancient script utilized by the libraries, two words that made Nathan shudder for not himself, but both his sons.

Jekrith Terin...

 

 

A puzzled Gwendolyn materialized before the hidden realm of the Manor. Her spell had led her not deeper into the Hell Plains, but rather one curious location to another before leaving her standing here. After a moment’s reflection, the enchantress silently berated herself for not realizing that Azran still had the ability to enter the Manor thanks to being a part of the Bedlam family. That kindled a concern of just what Nathan’s youngest might want inside the ancient edifice. The Manor had many secrets worth the time of an ambitious spellcaster.

Aware that every second she delayed would risk her being noticed by the Lord of the Dagora Forest, Gwendolyn stepped through the invisible barrier. Immediately, the Manor in all its magical glory towered above her.

She concentrated. From the strength of the trace Gwendolyn sensed, Azran had been here recently. To her surprise, she also noted Dayn’s presence as well, but in a manner that made no sense. It was as if Azran’s brother had left the Manor...and yet was still inside.

More confused, the enchantress carefully walked inside. While she had the utmost trust in Dayn, she could no longer say the same of Nathan’s younger son. If there was any chance that he still remained in the Manor, she had to be careful. Azran had grown very unpredictable. If he turned violent...

As Gwendolyn entered, a chill ran through her. The Manor felt different, more distant. Never in her life had she felt so uncomfortable here. The Manor had always been a refuge for her.

Something whispered in ear. It was not the first time she had experienced that in the Manor, but there was an insistence in the tone that bothered her more than the fact that she could not make out what the voice said. Gwendolyn instinctively looked in the direction of the voice ---

And saw the body.

At first, she stood there waiting for it to vanish. It was not the only corpse that she had seen in the Manor. Death had been a tremendous part of its history.

Yet, the body remained where it was long after any other ghost or vision she had come across had vanished. Worse, there was something familiar about it.

Heart pounding, Gwendolyn raced to the still form. As she did, she saw a tiny puddle of dry blood near the midsection. The puddle faded even as the enchantress reached the body, the Manor ruthlessly diligent in cleaning up after the mistakes of its inhabitants and visitors.

She knelt down and turned the body on its back. Gwendolyn kept praying that she was wrong as to the identity even though she already knew that it could only be one person.

Dayn Bedlam lay with his eyes thankfully shut. A frown etched his mouth.

Gwendolyn touched the vein in his throat, but felt nothing. She leaned close to his chest, but heard no beat. Summoning a small, round mirror, the enchantress held it to Dayn’s mouth and nose, only to have no hint of mist obscure the reflective surface.

“Oh...oh, Dayn...” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She gripped his nearest hand. It was cold, but just slightly.

The enchantress looked around, trying to fathom how this horror had come about. She had suspicions, but nothing she could verify ---

“Gwendolyn ---”

She jerked to her feet as Dayn’s voice rose from ahead. Her eyes widened more.

An untouched Dayn stared at her. He looked very concerned about something that had nothing to do with the fact that his body also lay sprawled on the floor.

“Dayn!” the enchantress cried. “Dayn! What ---”

“You’ve kept me in the dark about your romances, brother!” he went on, speaking through her. “Have you finally found someone?”

Brother...he’s talking to Azran! Gwendolyn swallowed as she eyed the corpse. No...even Azran wouldn’t ---

The other Dayn again responded to something his sibling said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about...and stop brandishing that thing like that!”

Finally building up the nerve to move, Gwendolyn stepped around Dayn’s body and reached out to the other Dayn. As she expected, her fingers went through the frustrated wizard.

A ghost...just another ghost of the Manor... Yet, in all the time she had spent here, she had never witnessed something so astounding --- and terrible --- as this.

At that moment, an expression of tremendous relief crossed the standing Dayn. He listened for a breath more, then said, “I don’t know any Hadris and so I can’t possibly know where she is. Master Hadaryn has many servants. I’ve probably never met her.” Dayn paused, adding, “Come with me back to Father. If she’s going to be the mother of your child, then he’ll certainly want to help us find her ---”

The abrupt shift in Dayn’s expression that followed sent Gwendolyn stumbling back. She nearly fell over the body as she watched a deep, bloody slit form just under the wizard’s rib cage.

“Az-Azran?” Nathan’s eldest gasped. His eyes pleaded with the enchantress.

No...no, she realized. With the brother who had just stabbed him.

“Az---”

The partial name was accented by a sickening sound. The slit became a gruesome hole in Dayn.

The ghostly Dayn spun. He dropped wordlessly to the floor, falling into his actual body.

It was too personal for Gwendolyn. She turned and heaved. Dayn’s death kept replaying in her mind as she fought to regain control of herself. All the time, she also heard him call his brother’s name.

It was that which finally stirred her back to action.

“Azran...” the fiery-tressed enchantress muttered as she straightened. “Azran...”

With one last lingering glance at Dayn, Gwendolyn rushed out of the Manor. Once beyond the walls, the enchantress began her spell.

“Nathan...” she whispered. “Nathan...”

 

 

The Gryphon’s gaze widened. “Master Nathan! Are you ---”

The book dropped through the veteran mage’s fingers. He felt a sense of displacement.

The libraries and the Gryphon faded away...to be replaced by the now-familiar grounds surrounding the Manor and a very distraught Gwendolyn McArn.

Her appearance startled him as much as the fact that he realized that she had managed to transport him from the magical libraries all the way to the Manor. Clearly, Nathan had underestimated her power.

“Oh, Nathan...oh, Nathan...” She took his nearest hand and led him toward the ancient edifice. He started to say something, but suddenly could not find his voice. The hair on the back of his neck stiffened even though he had no specific fear in mind.

“Gwendolyn...”

“I’m so very sorry...I’m so very sorry. Nathan, it’s ---”

Before she could continue, the wizard pushed past her and rushed into the Manor.

He saw the body immediately. A coldness filled his soul. He bent down, already aware of just who this had to be but praying that somehow he was wrong.

He was not.

Nathan tried to cry, but the tears would not come. It did not mean that he did not mourn Dayn as much as he had his wife so many years ago. Rather, it was that his thoughts were already caught up in conflict, for just as important to him as Dayn’s death was the identify of the murderer.

“Azran...what have you become?” he muttered.

Behind him, Gwendolyn let out a slight gasp. “Nathan...how did you know? The Manor revealed the cause of Dayn’s death to me, but you ---”

The mage straightened. Bitterness tinged his words. “I can feel Azran’s presence all around this spot. I felt it even as I entered. I could feel his energies here, feel the darkness in them.” Nathan swallowed. “And I can still feel something else that came with Azran, something I now know the name of.”

Rather than explain to the confused enchantress, Nathan gestured. Dayn’s body gently rose from the floor, then alighted in his father’s arms.

“Where are you taking him?”

Thoughts as much on Azran and his own failings when it came to Dayn, Nathan Bedlam absently responded. “I’m taking him to his mother.”

 

 

Yalak gripped Salicia by the shoulders. “You will do this for me?”

Despite the pale cast to her face, the enchantress nodded. “Yes, my love...because you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“You understand what the others would think?”

She pulled away. Looking down, Salicia whispered “I understand what I’d think under the same circumstances.”

“Salicia ---”

“Don’t worry.” Salicia took another step back. “Everything will be done as you’ve foreseen.”

“This is for the future.”

“Naturally.” Frowning, the enchantress vanished.

Yalak exhaled, then glanced over his shoulder. He and Salicia had remained separate from the others in the cavern. As he had foreseen, it had taken him some time to convince his beloved to do as he believed was needed. However, as ever, Salicia had taken his word that he foresaw no better choice.

A quick survey of the other spellcasters revealed to him that all was still on the path he had chosen. Yalak’s hands tightened into fists as he contemplated what was about to happen. Still, he felt certain that he had done what he could. The fact that at this moment he knew that Nathan was caught up in Dayn’s death and Azran’s betrayal indicated to Yalak that Fate insisted --- no, demanded --- that things happen as the wizard had quietly directed them.

Still, his next step was the hardest for him to take. There would be no turning back. Yalak drank in the relieved faces, the encouraged faces.

The veteran mage gritted his teeth, then, under his breath, said, “Farewell...farewell.”

As expected, he sensed the blink holes beginning to form even as he faded away.