Nothing? Wellen pondered the possibility that Xabene had been responsible for his overnight change of mind. Could the vague recollections he had a.s.sumed were dreams actually be some true scene? If so, why did he not sense any danger from Xabene?

Wellen continued around the ancient structure until he had come back to his starting point. The enchantress followed him all the way, her expression sour and possibly a bit fearful.

Of what?

"Did you find anything?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Only that I have wasted my time. Have you ever touched it?"

Hesitation, then, "Yes."

"Nothing happened?"

"See for yourself."

Taking a deep breath, Wellen reached forward. His fingers grazed the surface. When no bolt of lightening smote him, he planted his palm flat against the wall.

"Extraordinary, wasn't it?" Xabene asked, the sarcasm in her tone sharp and biting.

The disappointed explorer removed his hand. The wall felt like any wall, save a little smoother. He had no idea what he had been hoping for, just that he had been . . . hoping.

"And so it ends," the enchantress chided. Wellen met her gaze. Xabene looked away and began to walk to the horses. For some reason, Wellen saw that she was more upset with herself rather than with him. Another puzzle.

The logical thing would have been to follow his companion, remount, and ride off. In a few years, he might be able to forget his debacle, providing he lived that long. Yet, now that Wellen found himself here, he knew he could not just walk away. There had to be something else he could do.

Facing the wall, the scholar quietly spoke. It might be that he talked only for his own benefit, but at least he could say he had tried. Perhaps the proper words could do what force had not.

"I do not know if you can hear me in there, but my name is Wellen Bedlam. I've come from across the seas to explore this continent." He shrugged. "I have no designs on your secrets. My only reason for coming here was to see if you could help me return to my land. Right now I want nothing more than to begin my studies anew."

A breeze tossed his hair about. The gray, flat face of the edifice remained as indifferent as it had before. No magical portal opened in the side. No voice boomed in the heavens. For all he knew, the gnome might not even be inside.

Xabene, mounted and ready to retreat from this disaster, leaned forward and called, "What was that you were saying?"

He was about to turn and tell her when a tingle ran through him. It was not a premonition of danger, but rather some effect from outside his body. Wellen stared at the blank wall for a few seconds, then reached out and touched it.

With a yelp, he pulled his hand back. His fingertips felt as they had been burned. A belated throbbing warned him that he should not touch the wall.

"What did you do?" the stunned sorceress cried.

Explanations had to wait. The tingle increased. Though he sensed no danger to himself, Wellen stepped back just in case. The entire pentagon shimmered.

"No! Don't!" Xabene tried to urge her mount forward, but it was strangely still, almost like a frozen corpse. She cursed the animal, then called to Wellen. "Get away! You might be killed!"

He could not. The shimmering structure nearly had him hypnotized. A panoramic display of colors surrounded the gnome's citadel, a display that grew brighter with each pa.s.sing breath.

"Wellen!"

Bedlam put a hand over his eyes to shield them from the brilliance.

With what sounded like a hiss, the entire building vanished. "Lords of the Dead!" Xabene swore.

Slowly, Wellen took a step toward where the edifice had stood. His hope that it had merely been an illusion and that the gray structure still stood there, invisible, was quickly shattered. For all practical purposes, the gnome's sanctum might never have been built. Gra.s.s as high as his waist fluttered in the light breeze. There were no indentations, no fragments. The citadel was simply gone.

The enchantress leaped from her mount and ran over to him. She took him by the arms and spun him around to face her, displaying at the same time incredible strength for one of her size. "What did you do? What spell did you cast?"

Spell? He realized that she had taken his words, unintelligible to her, as some sort of complex spell. He knew that sorcerers sometimes found need for vocal guides, what the ignorant called "magic words," but surely she did not think that he was capable of such sorcery?

Or was he? The novice warlock gazed thoughtfully at his hands. Had he somehow unleashed a spell of such potency that it had taken the entire building, gnome, book, and all?

"This was not his fault."

The two turned at the sound of the voice, Wellen's heart sinking, for he knew all too well to whom it belonged. Xabene, on the other hand, ignorant of who faced them now, took a step toward the newcomer and held up a fist that crackled with power. The disappearance had wracked her far more than it had Bedlam. He, after all, had only wanted escape; she wanted the tome . . . and not, Wellen suspected now, for herself.

"Who are you?" the enchantress demanded. "This is your doing, then?"

"You may call me Shade," the hooded warlock advised her quietly. As usual, his deathly visage was half-obscured by shadow. "And I am no more responsible for this than Master Bedlam here."

Wellen could not meet her gaze. "You know him? You lied all the time? The book was what you wanted?"

"No! Shade a.s.sumed I did, just as you have! He's the one who wants it."

Xabene looked from her companion to the elderly but potent figure before her. "The dragon tome is mine!"

To their surprise, Shade simply walked toward them. Wellen quickly stepped aside. The enraged enchantress, confused by the peculiar action, finally stepped away just before Shade would have walked into her. The shadowy warlock continued on a few more feet until he was at the edge of where the citadel had been. He went down on one knee and studied the gra.s.s with avid interest.

"A masterful piece of work. Worthy of him."

Despite circ.u.mstances, Wellen was interested. "Worthy of who?"

"The gnome, of course."

A movement by Xabene drew the explorer's attention. In horror, he watched as she stretched out her hand and pointed at the shrouded backside of Shade.

"Xa-" was as far as he managed before her spell was unleashed.

With perfect timing, Shade raising a single gloved finger. Xabene's attack faded with only a spark to mark its brief existence.

"There will be no more of that," the kneeling figure commented in an absent manner, still studying the ground. "For Master Bedlam's sake, I will forgive it this once."

The disheveled sorceress began to shake. She looked at Wellen with sudden pleading in her eyes. He frowned, not understanding her growing fear, and joined her. To his further consternation, Xabene fell against him and started crying "What is it? What's wrong?" he whispered. There was no reason to include Shade in this, whatever it might be.

"She has failed her masters," the hooded warlock interjected. He rose, his back still to them as he surveyed the field. "They will, of course, see that she pays appropriately for that failure. This is, after all, a very important task and they do not generally take failure well. Still, do not take all of her anguish to heart. She's hardly given up."

Xabene's shivering had grown worse as Shade had talked. Her tears had lessened, though. She looked up at Wellen, gave him a shadow of her seductress's smile, and then focused on the cold figure of the ancient warlock.

"Who are you that you know so much? Who are you that thinks you can best the G.o.ds?"

Grimacing, Wellen quickly whispered, "Take care! He's mad!"

"They are no more G.o.ds than I am." Shade faced them. "Their power-" began the scholar.

"Has its limits. You may trust me on that." He c.o.c.ked his head to one side, almost resembling a Seeker. "They and I are related, as a matter of fact, though neither side is willing to admit it at times. We also have a tendency to forget, it being so long."

His explanation was hardly what she had expected. "How could you-"

"Cousins, actually. Perhaps half brothers in some cases. Father . . . he had a tendency to . . . share."

Wellen, mind busy in what was so far a futile attempt to find a way to extricate the two of them from Shade's hands, recognized the telltale signs of the aged warlock's insanity seizing control again. Shade was beginning to drift back in time.

"Xabene." He tried to keep his voice as low as possible, hoping that she would be able to understand him and that Shade, in his present state, would not pay attention regardless of his exceptional hearing. "Forget what I said earlier. Teleport us away from here now!"

He was gratified to see her nod slightly. She, too, realized that this situation was beyond her abilities, especially if all the master warlock had said were true.

Xabene tensed in his arms and then- Nothing. Nothing, save that Shade was walking up to them and Wellen discovered that he . . . and Xabene . . . could not move so much as a finger.

"I think we should go elsewhere to discuss this further," the warlock suggested offhandedly. This close, even the shadows could not hide the fact of his parchment skin. He looked ready to crackle. "There will be others along shortly and they will raise a fuss."

The Dragon King! The reptilian monarch of this land would surely know of the catastrophe before very long, unless, of course, he knew already. The choice was not one that he would have preferred to face, but Wellen decided that departing with Shade certainly had to be better than awaiting the scaly presence of the angry drake lord.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Xabene swore.

"Then you may remain here, if that is your desire." He stretched out a hand toward WeIlen. "Come, Master Bedlam."

"I won't" -Wellen discovered himself now standing next to Shade-"leave her!" he sputtered, mentally cursing teleportation and its misuses.

"Wellen!" The enchantress, also released from the movement spell, rushed to his side. Whatever her goals, she evidently did not want to separate herself from him. He wondered how much of it had to do with fear for herself because of her failure and how much had to do with the chance that she still might be able to redeem herself in the eyes of her masters if she remained with Wellen and Shade. Possibly she was evenly split; the short scholar still had no delusions about her attraction to him. What did he have to offer?

"We all go together then." The corners of the warlock's mouth crooked upward at the sight of the twosome holding one another for rea.s.surance. Shade seemed most coherent when he had an audience or something that particularly piqued his interest. If not for his indifferent att.i.tude toward the lives and deaths of others, Wellen might almost have been able to like him. As it was, the best he could do was again pity the aged spellcaster.

The shrouded figure began to curl within himself. It was something he had always done prior to teleporting himself, but this was the first time that Wellen had actually paid attention to it. He wondered if that was the way he had looked when the hooded warlock had teleported him.

A force tugged at the duo, Shade's spell pulling them in. Bedlam and the enchantress held one another tight, if only because neither of them cared for the idea of entrusting themselves to their spectral companion. Wellen thought the spell was drawn out much more than it had been in the past and wondered what Shade might be doing differently. He glanced back up at the warlock.

Shade, twisted sideways in a manner that turned the anxious scholar's stomach, froze . . . and untwisted with a scream.

The cloth-enshrouded figure crumpled to the ground, his spell dissipating even before his face struck the gra.s.sy earth. At the same time, Wellen felt a heavy weight he had not noticed earlier lift from his mind. A cold shiver pa.s.sed through him as he realized what it might be. He looked down at the motionless form.

"What happened to him?" Xabene separated herself from Wellen and took a tentative step toward Shade. She leaned forward and studied the warlock.

"I think . . ." It was insane, but he could see no other explanation. "I think! might have fought him off."

"You?" The enchantress rose and inspected him, trying to see something that neither she nor Wellen had noticed before. "You think you stopped him?"

Her disbelief was reasonable. He shrugged. "When he started to collapse, I felt different, as if something had been accomplished or . . ." The confused man spread his hands in surrender. "I cannot explain exactly how I felt. It just makes sense somehow. I knew that I wanted his spell to fail. The thought of teleporting again . . ."

"Perhaps you have something there. Now that I think of it, I thought I sensed a difference in you, but my first notion was that it was just an effect of his sorcery." She dared to prod the still form with her foot. "His power . . . so different, yet still like theirs . . ."

Her masters. Shade had spoken about them, called them kin of all things. The idea that Xabene followed such masters repulsed him. What had she spouted after the disappearance of the citadel? Lords of the Dead? His eyes flashed to the two horses, still standing quietly exactly where the duo had left them. Wellen's hands curled as he thought of the flesh he had touched. Now he understood.

A horrible thought sprouted from that memory. Could Xabene be like the horses?

He stared at her pale skin, such a contrast to her raven-black hair and the dark gown she wore. Impossible. There was too much vibrance in her, even if most of it worked to trick men into doing her bidding. She could never be one of the walking dead.

She caught him staring at her and, despite the situation, smiled. It was not a smile that beguiled, but rather one that he thought was tinged with open pleasure at his interest in her. Again, though, Wellen could not forget that the enchantress had already proven herself competent at playacting.

"There's nothing more to be gained here." Xabene glared at the innocent-looking field. "I can't sense it anywhere. Are you certain that it wasn't you?"

"No, but he was." He wondered what they would do with the warlock. Leave him? Abandoning an unconscious Shade to the whims of the Dragonrealm did not appeal to the explorer. There was also the thought that the ancient warlock, should he escape harm, would immediately set off after them.

"Him. Should we find some peace for a time, I would like to hear about the circ.u.mstances of your acquaintance. You seemed to have forgotten to tell me earlier."

He met her reprimand with one of his own. "As you seem to have forgotten your masters."

Xabene bit her lip. "No, I could never forget them. They, on the other hand, might be more than willing to forget about me."

"For failing?"

"I never have before. I never thought I could. It was so perfect!"

His head was throbbing harder. Turning his gaze to the sky, he scanned the region. At last, Wellen discovered a tiny dot on the northern horizon, one that was rapidly growing larger.

"Xabene, whatever our differences, they can wait. I think we have to leave-fast."

"You sense something?" From her tone, she had not. WeIlen was vaguely interested to note how his sorcerous abilities, however limited, occasionally proved themselves superior to those of much more powerful spellcasters. He tucked the fact away for later contemplation. Their lives were what mattered now.

"I sense and see something. Look north."

She obeyed. "I don't . . . no . . . I do see it."

"Dragon?"

"I wish it were only that simple. Try dragons!"

Squinting proved Xabene was correct. There were three of them. They flew in a formation, much the way birds did, with the flock leader in the front.

"Wellen," Since Shade's intrusion, she had gone back to speaking to him in more familiar terms. Whether that was good or bad was something only time would reveal. "Whatever has come between us, I agree that we are together in this at least. You were the one able to overcome our friend here; can you also summon up a portal or teleport us away from here before it is too late?"

"What about you?" The thought of trying to perform a conscious spell, something he had really yet to do, unsettled him. "Shade is no barrier now. Your powers-"

"Are not sufficient. I tried at the moment he collapsed, hoping to take us away before he recovered. Instead, I found my abilities reduced to almost nothing." She glared at the p.r.o.ne figure in bitterness. "Much the way they were before I made my pact."

It was up to him, then. "All right. Any suggestions?"

"It differs with everyone, but this might help. Think of us elsewhere. Pick a place you know and trust. A stable place."

Pick a place he knew? He was a stranger in this land. When had he had time to become familiar with any part of this realm? Wellen looked around in frustration, trying to stir an idea to the surface.

He caught sight of the hills to the east. Their unreal uniformity was something he could never forget.