XIX

 

What Burrows Beneath

 

Azran materialized in his sanctum in the Hell Plains. His mood was not a good one.

“Well, once more, that proved not to be the best outcome!”

On the contrary, came the voice of the Horned Blade...of Jekrith Terin. We have learned much of value...

“Have we?” Nathan’s son could not hide his disbelief. “Did you get what you needed from the libraries?”

In a sense...it began with your brother, but the wizard Samir verified it...

“And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

We may not need the sorceress after all...merely your son...

“Oh?” While Azran had to admit that there had been some pleasant aspects dealing with Melenea, he also had to admit that he knew that at some point she would become a threat, not an ally. Still, up until now, her part in their overall plan had been of such an essential nature that Azran had never had any strong thoughts concerning betrayal.

But now... “You said you still need my son. She’ll be there. We can’t avoid that.”

No, admitted the Horned Blade. but we can be better prepared.

“How so?”

A simple addition of power...

Azran thought about what that meant. He frowned. “That might be too much...”

We only strike at them before they come for you...do you think even your father will let you remain untouched for what you have already done? Do you think he will permit you your glory at this point?

Azran had already pondered that. He knew his father would discover the facts concerning Dayn’s death. There was also the events in Penacles to add to Azran’s list of ‘crimes’. “No. No, Father won’t stand for this...but he wouldn’t harm me.”

Perhaps he might not, but what of the others? Surely, they would think a more severe punishment in order...

The mage’s mind immediately went to Yalak. Despite being one of Nathan’s best friends, the other spellcaster would have no qualms about dealing harshly with Azran.

No...not the one with the sight...choose another...

Azran had not been aware that he had been ‘choosing’ anyone for anything. Still, if it was a matter of picking someone for what he believed the sword had in mind... “Basil. He’d likely be the first one to suggest I’m a problem to Father. Either him or Tyr. They’re like a pair of damned bookends, those two.” For the first time, Nathan’s youngest realized that he did not care for the two very much. He wondered if it had to do with the fact that they acted more like brothers than he and Dayn ever had. “Basil. Tyr. Both.”

Yes, murmured the Horned Blade. Two would be better than one.

Azran smiled. “And three would be better than two, don’t you think? Just to be safe?”

Yes...just to be safe. How very wise of you. How very wise.

 

 

Try as he might, Darkhorse could not gain entry to the Manor grounds. Unlike most creatures, he could sense where the ancient edifice was located. However, that still did not mean that he could bypass its protections, especially now that he sensed that the enchantress Gwendolyn had completely reorganized them. The shadow steed was impressed by her work; she was every bit as capable as Nathan Bedlam.

Unfortunately, that now left him with a tremendous predicament. Darkhorse had believed that he could leave Shade’s creation at the Manor, but thus far all he had done was waste valuable time racing around and around its boundary. Worse, he knew that with each passing minute he risked catching the attention of the local Dragon King.

Sure enough, at that moment, he sensed a drake not all that far away. However, the low level of power indicated that it could not be the Green Dragon nor even one of his warriors. In fact, it could only be one kind of drake.

Now what is a female doing out here by herself? Curious, he maneuvered among the trees, hiding himself in a twisted shape that no true equine could have managed. A moment later, the female drake came into sight. Darkhorse recognized that by human or elven standards she was very beautiful, but there was that in her expression --- especially her furtive gaze --- that made him think she was a creature more than willing to bury her claws in the back of someone who thought she was a friend.

The female drake approached the hidden Manor. Darkhorse expected her to be turned aside, but instead she walked without pause through the barrier. As she vanished from view, the shadow steed stepped out. He snorted in frustration, wondering why such a thing as she would be allowed entrance.

Then, all thought of the female drake faded as Darkhorse sensed a powerful force rushing toward the vicinity of the Manor from the depths of the forest. The ebony stallion pressed himself against the trees and amplified his shields. He knew that in this land such an intense level of magic could mean only one being.

Barely a breath later, the master of the Dagora Forest descended upon the area.

The gigantic green dragon hissed as he surveyed the region. Fiery orbs focused on the location where the Manor hid, yet, it was clear to the eternal that the drake lord could not actually see the structure.

Nor, for that matter, did he see Darkhorse. The shadow steed was now literally a shadow, a long string of black against a nearby tree. The inky blot blended in, fooling the dragon’s visual senses. There was still a high risk of discovery, but fortunately, it appeared that the Green Dragon sought some specific prey. The leviathan stomped forward, sniffing the air and continuing to peer at where the Manor stood.

Without warning, the dragon transformed, the great beast shrinking and shifting into the form of a towering, armored knight. In his left hand formed a long, sharp sword.

“Why run from your liege, Camilla?” the drake lord hissed to the air. “Why do your sssisters run as well? Could it all be true, then, that you ssserved my son --- my treacherous ssson --- in a bid to take my throne?”

Only the wind responded, its brief howl seeming to amuse the Dragon King for some reason that Darkhorse could not fathom. The master of the Dagora Forest stalked along the edge of the invisible barrier, his steps adjusting whenever he moved too near. The drake lord clearly knew that the Manor stood before him, but like Darkhorse, could not enter.

How curious, the eternal thought.

Lord Green hissed again. He smelled the air, then abruptly turned his attention Darkhorse’s direction.

The eternal remained as still as possible.

“Camilla...” The drake lord murmured as he eyed the forest where Darkhorse hid. “You would have been firssst among his consortsss, if he had not been ssso eager asss to try to hasten his ascension. Had he not been ssslain by others --- others whossse forgiveness I should ask --- he would be facing execution at thisss moment. Asss for you and your sssisters, duplicitousss servants all, you are hereby exiled from the sssanctum! Any drake who aids you will sssuffer the same! You and your sssisters may wander the forest, but with the clan you will have no sssanctuary!”

With that, Lord Green turned the blade he had created point down and buried it deep in the ground.

Lightning flashed around the weapon, then raced in every direction from the Dragon King and his sword. Some of that energy rushed to where Darkhorse hid, but he kept still even when it washed over him. To his surprise, the pain not only proved to be minor, but also very brief.

That is, apparently for him. From another part of the forest there rose feminine shrieks and hisses.

The Green Dragon nodded in satisfaction. He stepped back. The lightning --- and the sword --- faded away.

“Consider thisss a measure of my kindness, that you are permitted to live at all. You are now marked...marked forever...” Lord Green spread his arms, then hesitated. Once more, he looked in Darkhorse’s direction.

The shadow steed did not move and did not need to breathe. He knew that he gave no hint whatsoever of his existence and yet recognized at that moment that the drake lord knew very well that he was there.

“You have the ear of the wizard Bedlam,” the Dragon King muttered to the hidden Darkhorse. “Tell him there isss no price demanded for a treacherous child. Tell him that the foressst will not impede either him or thossse with him.”

Without another word, the Dragon King stretched his arms wide, then changed back to the great beast he truly was. The behemoth flew into the air, heading back the way from which he had come.

Darkhorse waited until the drake lord had been gone for some time before finally moving. He sensed the female drake lurking near, but paid her no mind after that. Gwendolyn McArn would surely deal with the intruder should the two cross paths in or near the Manor.

Reverting to his equine shape, Darkhorse returned to the unseen barrier. He snorted. The Manor still remained the best choice to deposit Shade’s creation, but not if the shadow steed was unable to enter.

With a frustrated shake of his mane, Darkhorse turned from the invisible edifice ---

--- and, at that point, a tear opened up behind him. The eternal had just enough time to look back before an incredible wind ripped apart his equine shape and sucked Darkhorse into the hidden realm of the Manor.

The tear sealed.

The Dagora Forest returned to silence.

 

 

Nathan surveyed the lush landscape of the Adajian Fields. He no longer saw any of its beauty. Now, each blade of grass, each stalk of wheat, seemed to mark a death that could be lain at the feet of the realm’s master.

“Not having second thoughts again, are you?” Tragaro grumbled impatiently. Beside him, obedient Sssorak chuckled.

“No...I was just making certain that we chose the best locations possible. This must be complete. There must be no chance that this land ever rises while still under a drake lord’s fist.”

‘Yes...yes, of course,” the other mage returned, looking somewhat subdued by Nathan’s determined statement.

“Yalak?”

“Yes, Nathan. They’re eager to be released.”

“Take your places, then, everyone,” the elder Bedlam ordered. “but remain wary at all times.”

The others vanished. Nathan crouched near where he had planted his part of the spell. He could sense the hunger, the constant, gnawing hunger, that drove the Dragon Masters’ creations.

Creations? No...abominations... Despite that dark thought, Nathan immediately began the process of unlocking the pocket world in which this batch of the creatures had been placed. As he did, he sensed their sudden eagerness. They felt the way opening. They smelled the bounty beyond.

Feed, Nathan commanded, not that they needed any encouragement. Feed and grow...

They rushed from the collapsing pocket world. The moment that they entered the Dragonrealm, they dug into the ground, moving with ease through dirt and rock. Rising, Nathan sensed them quickly swelling in size as they left the physical laws of the false realm in which the spellcasters had set them. Within seconds, they were as large as the wizard. Within the first minute, they had grown as massive as a riding drake.

And all the while, they fed.

Nathan quickly stepped back. While he was confident in his protective spells, he knew that with such numbers as he and the rest released into the Adajian Fields there was still some risk. After all, as a mage, he was a prime piece of food for these beasts.

As if to emphasize that thought, the ground just ahead of him turned a dry, unsettling gray. Sink holes of varying size swiftly formed, signs of the diggers’ mighty efforts.

The gray expanded. Despite his earlier eagerness to unleash the forces the spellcasters had gathered, Nathan felt a twinge of regret.

But now it was much too late to change things.

The ground beneath his feet trembled. He knew what that meant. With a thought, he vanished, materializing a moment later near Yalak.

“They are spreading and growing at a rate faster than we calculated,” the other mage commented upon Nathan’s arrival.

“I noticed that, too ---” The land beneath them also started quivering. Nathan frowned. “We’d best return to the others.”

“Agreed.”

The ground shook harder. With a guilty glance at one another, the pair disappeared.

 

 

Horns blared as the Gryphon’s forces manned the walls. There, they beheld the massing of the three armies --- Black, Red, and, most of all, the nerve-wracking vision of the banners of Clan Gold. The drake-led forces spread expertly around Penacles, curiously avoiding the rush of fearful civilians rushing from their homes to the safety of the city.

The Gryphon knew that there was no benevolence in Lord Kyrg’s decision. Penacles already swelled with refugees, adding further stress to the situation. Kyrg wanted to place the defenders at every disadvantage, including possible panicked mobs within the city walls. Since his days as a mercenary, the Gryphon had made it a habit to analyze the strengths of every drake clan and mark their most cunning warriors. Kyrg was among the most feared, but the lionbird gave some slight thanks that Kyrg’s younger brother Toma was not involved. Little was known about the lesser duke, but from what the Gryphon had gleaned, even Kyrg looked to Toma for counsel.

The dukes commanding Black and Red were also known to the Gryphon, but with Kyrg involved, their parts in this struggle were of little interest to the lionbird. No part of the enemy force would move without Kyrg’s order.

It would have made sense to close the gates, to shut out the refugees still seeking sanctuary. So many new mouths promised that a siege would not last long even if the all the defenses, both physical and magical, held. Upon taking over, the Gryphon had filled the city warehouses with food, but with the addition of all those he saw, the supplies would perhaps last a week or two at best.

Of course, many assumed that he also had the Dragon Masters at his side. That was the only reason that Kyrg had not attacked instantly. Every capable spellcaster in the drake forces would be preparing to counter the humans’ expected castings.

A pity I’ve no idea what’s become of Nathan and the others, the lord of the City of Knowledge thought darkly. The only mage still in the city was the late Samir, whose body the Gryphon had ordered set respectfully on a bed in one of the many suites until Nathan or one of the others could claim it. The Gryphon owed Samir that much and more for apparently preventing Azran from completing whatever mischief he had intended in the libraries.

More horns blared. The armies of Clan Gold let out a unified roar.

A flight of arrows so immense that it stunned even the Gryphon exploded from every direction. Thousands of whistling shafts rose high up over the walls, then descended on the populace.

Concentrating, the Gryphon awoke the powers of Penacles.

A fearsome wind swirled around the city walls. With effort, the lionbird kept its power weaker near the open gates through which the last of the refugees were still rushing. In turn, he let the power taken from there magnify the rest of the spell.

The arrows were caught up in the wind as if only light leaves. The shafts flew madly around Penacles, a display the Gryphon hoped would at least somewhat lessen the invaders’ confidence.

Then with one thought, he activated the second part of the city’s spell.

The arrows veered around, soaring back at the enemy.

But any pleasure the Gryphon might have had at turning back the initial assault faded as the lionbird stared in horror at a huge plume of golden fire shooting from the direction of the imperial legions. The Gryphon had no time to do anything but watch as the fire cut across the landscape and struck the weakened part of the defensive spell he was maintaining.

The very same part that encompassed the city gates through which stragglers still fled to supposed safety.

The shrieks shook the Gryphon to the core. Worse, those who perished near the gates --- guards included --- were but the start. The magically-enhanced plume rushed through the open gates and into the city, wreaking havoc.

It took the Gryphon only seconds to adjust the spell, but the damage was done. Much of the corridor through which the fire had shot now blazed wildly. Already, there were cries of panic mixing with those of agony.

The Gryphon reached out to Toos. Cut off the sections on fire! Get everyone out you can!

As his second acknowledged the silent command, the lionbird leapt from the window. He caught hold of a ledge, then swung himself to another landing below.

He could have simply tried to transport himself to the wall, but suspected that Kyrg might have another spell ready for just that. The Dragon Kings now very much respected the Gryphon’s vaunted magical abilities, respected them more than he did himself. That meant that they would also react to him as they would any other spellcaster...by seeking to either usurp or manipulate any magic he summoned. Even a simple teleportation spell cast in the supposed safety of Penacles might betray him unless he remained fully aware of every aspect of it at all times.

Beyond Penacles, the legions of the imperial banner shouted again. Black and Red took up the shout, signaling to the Gryphon that the flights of arrows he had turned back had also unfortunately been dealt with by the emperor’s son.

Another shout followed.

The enemy poured toward the City of Knowledge.

As the Gryphon alighted on the ground level, he heard the city’s catapults come into play. Huge round boulders soared over the wall.

Even before the missiles began to rain down, a second salvo fired. This consisted of metal shells half the size of the boulders. They were the first things the Gryphon had added to the city’s physical defenses.

Great thuds echoed as the Gryphon reached the wall. Violent tremors followed as he finally dared transport himself as far as the battlements.

And there, he beheld the madness of war.

Rank upon rank of armored warrior charged the wall. Ladder brigades followed the first few ranks, but the Gryphon was not fooled by them. Kyrg would certainly welcome any success by the ladder crews, but a drake duke hardly relied on something so mundane as them when all any of his kind had to do was transform to gain wings.

More explosions rocked the invaders. Fearsome soldiers became boneless marionettes tossed high into the air. The metal spheres were filled with a volatile alchemical concoction not originating from the libraries but rather dredged from the Gryphon’s own patchwork memories. He had come across the mixture somewhere beyond the Dragonrealm, somewhere where his origins lay. The dread concoction was one of the few useful bits of memory the Gryphon had dredged up over the years, one he had used on a more minor scale before becoming leader here.

Several more explosions rocked the enemy, but every ghastly hole created by the Gryphon’s surprise instantly filled with more grim fighters. The lionbird could see no end to the drake legions.

A menacing roar arose from far above. The Gryphon cursed. He had known that Kyrg would not wait long before unleashing the raw power of his own kind on the city. Sure enough, a simple glance skyward revealed two winged shapes diving down on Penacles.

The Gryphon braced himself. He heard the screams of those who also saw the dragon descending and prayed for their forgiveness. They no doubt wondered why no weapon, no spell, stopped the savage beasts.

The lionbird clamped his mouth shut. He concentrated.

With a thundering crash, the dragons halted in midair as if they had just struck a wall of steel. One beast rolled off to the side. The other, clearly stunned, flew in a haphazard circle for several seconds.

“Thank you, my lord Purple,” the Gryphon murmured. “I’d have hated to have to been the one to spend time peeling that secret from the libraries.”

The gold-tinged beast that had gone tumbling off to the side quickly returned with a vengeance. It strafed the sky where it had struck the barrier, the searing flames momentarily illuminating parts of the magical shield.

Recovering its wits, the second dragon joined the first. The sky flared as the pair assailed the barrier again and again.

The Gryphon felt the stress that their attack put on the spell. Lord Purple had never had to test the limits of the shield. Now, his successor wondered just how long it would hold. If it did fail ---

“Do not concern yourssself with thossse foolish creaturesss,” a voice behind him quietly warned. “The greater threat liesss within.”

The Gryphon spun around. He stared with wide eyes at Samir, who stood just beyond arm’s reach. Samir, who still bore the gaping wound that would have killed anyone.

Samir, who spoke not with his own voice, but rather with one the lionbird knew just as well.

The voice of the mist dragon.