"I have it. The hills."

"Then think of us there. Wish that we were there. That is all I can tell you. The rest happens within your mind."

The would-be warlock tried. He pictured the symmetrical hills and tried to recall various parts of the range. Choosing one, Wellen formed an image of himself and Xabene standing there, safe and sound.

Nothing happened. After several precious seconds, he shook his head. "What now?"

Her eyes on the rapidly approaching leviathans, Xabene suggested, "The horses . . ."

Both their mounts were gone. Neither Wellen nor the sorceress could recall when the beasts had vanished. Xabene was particularly upset. "They've abandoned me! I failed them and this is my reward!"

Running would have been futile. Wellen doubted that even the horses would have been fast enough to escape the soaring drakes. Were they just to stand there, then? What else was there?

It came to him. "Can you cast illusion?"

She understood. "I might be able to do that. We have to huddle together, though. The less s.p.a.ce I have to cover, the better."

Wellen nodded and walked over to Shade.

"What do you think you're doing?" Xabene demanded.

"He doesn't deserve to lie here helpless. He could have killed you rather than muted your spells. Besides, we might need Shade to help us later. If you cannot accept that, think how much more carefully they'll search this area if they find him."

His pointed was not arguable. With some distaste, she joined the explorer and took hold of the unconscious warlock. "It will be better if we kneel or sit."

"We do not have much time remaining."

"I know." She closed her eyes. A breath or two later, she opened them again. A triumphant smile played on her full lips. "I've done it!"

Wellen, who still saw the three of them sitting . . . in Shade's case, lying . . . in the middle of the field, frowned, not having noticed anything. "I don't see any change!"

"We are not the ones who should, but you can feel it, can't you?"

"Feel?" Concentrating, he did finally notice it. A tingling, much like what he had felt just before the citadel had vanished, but almost unnoticeable. In fact, Bedlam had to concentrate hard just to continue sensing it.

"Now," Xabene said, moving closer to him, "we have to hope it fools them!"

Even as she whispered, the dragons, reptilian visages twisted in fury, swooped down toward the field.

Chapter 10.

One fear that Wellen had tried to stop thinking about was that even if the dragons did not notice them, one of them might decide to land upon the very bit of ground that the hapless humans had chosen for their spell. That, fortunately, proved not to be the case. The nearest drake was more than twice its length from the still figures.

If there was a problem, it lay in that the trio was within the triangle formed by the three behemoths. None of the drakes wanted to be too close to where the building had stood, just in case it came back, Wellen supposed.

They were giants. Wellen's scholarly curiosity came into play even while part of him prayed for a quick and painless end if he and the others were caught. The drakes had jaws capable of easily swallowing a horse and rider and sharp, daggerlike teeth stained by the b.l.o.o.d.y meat diet their kind preferred. Their claws looked strong and deadly enough to tear apart mountainsides, which made it more amazing that the citadel had looked unmarred by battle. At least two of them were larger than the leviathan that had slaughtered the column. The third could not have been much smaller. All three were of the same coloring, a dark green mixed with hints of purple. On the dragons, it was actually a beautiful color, especially when the sunlight caused their scales to glitter a bit.

He forgot all about colors and scales when the smallest of the three spoke. "It issss a.s.ss feared! There issss no trace!"

Wellen almost smiled, so fascinated by the sights and sounds. This was the first time he had actually heard one of the monsters talk like a man. The dragon that had killed Yalso had laughed, if the scholar recalled correctly, but had never really talked much, if at all.

Thought of the friendly sea captain and all those others that had perished turned the would-be smile to a scowl.

"But it wa.s.sss here!" roared another. An old scar ran across its torso, one that indicated a wound almost mortal, for it looked as if it had run long and deep. That the dragon had lived to see it heal spoke of the fate of the one who had caused the wound.

A sudden, low groan by Wellen's side made him tense.

"Wa.s.sss there ssssomething I heard?" asked the short one, raising its head to listen.

"I heard nothing," muttered the third.

Shade was beginning to stir. Wellen matched frantic glances with Xabene.

"It wa.s.sss ssssomething!" insisted the smaller one. His stature in no way detracted from his leadership. The other dragons clearly respected his power.

The three menacing beasts twisted their heads around and began to scan the field. The eyes of the scarred one glanced over to where the trio hid, but did not stop.

The waking sorcerer shifted.

"Ssssomething?" roared the smaller one, its burning eyes focusing on a point just a few paces to Wellen's right.

"Nothing." The one with the scar clearly wanted to be gone from this place. "There issss nothing here."

Xabene's hand came down and covered Shade's mouth just as the warlock was about to mutter something. His eyes flashed open, gleaming crystalline orbs that almost made the enchantress, who had never seen them unshadowed, cry out. She was able to smother it at the last moment.

This time, they were fortunate. The drakes had not noted anything.

"He will not be plea.s.sssed!"

"What elsssse can we do? There issss nothing! Perhaps the gnome ha.s.sss destroyed hissss infernal sssself!"

"Would that ssssuch were true," agreed the leader.

The dragon with the great scar abruptly raised its head. "I ssssmell manlingssss!"

A shift in the wind. Neither Wellen nor Xabene had counted on that. The scholar silently cursed his stupidity. A boy on his first hunt would have known to prepare for such a situation.

The other behemoths sniffed.

"I smell nothing!" argued the third.

"It issss the gnome'ssss doing!" hissed the leader. "A ploy to confuse ussss while he furtherssss hissss plotssss!"

They were taking much too long. Although Shade was awake enough to be aware of the danger, Wellen doubted that the warlock would remain complacent for more than a few minutes, shorter, if his madness flared.

If they would only finish their search and depart! he thought, eyeing the smaller dragon, whose decision was the one upon which their lives hinged. If only that creature would satisfy itself and give up! There was nothing for them to see. Wellen knew that all too well.

He felt a tug.

Wellen blinked, and found himself facing two dragons. "What ailssss you?" one of them, the scarred one, hissed anxiously.

The explorer, stunned, eyed first the one who had spoken, then the other, who looked as frantic as Wellen felt. As for the third, the leader, he was . . . he was . . .

He was Wellen.

I've leaped into its mind! Unlike the first time, when he had touched the thoughts of the dragon in the sky, Bedlam had complete control. There were no thoughts of puny humans and how well they might taste. He was himself. How long that would last and what happened afterward were two very good questions, but Wellen had been given an opportunity that he dared not miss.

"There is no more to be seen here!" Belatedly, he recalled how the dragons had a tendency to hiss. "If the gnome issss gone, it issss our lord who issss besssst suited to find him!"

It proved easy to convince them. In what might have been a flash of insight from his host's mind, Wellen realized that all three leviathans feared the might of the gnarled gnome. That said much for the tiny sorcerer's power, that three such as these would fear to face his sorcery together.

With a swiftness that almost caught him napping, the other two drakes lifted into the air. The wind created by their vast wings stormed over the field. Wellen wondered how the others were taking it, then realized that he was still trapped inside the dragon's body. Unless he wanted to live his life out as one of the beasts, Bedlam had to find a way back or- No sooner was the desire made known than Wellen found himself clutching onto Xabene and even Shade as the three behemoths rose higher and higher into the heavens. The wind threw gra.s.s and dust all about, nearly choking the humans. Even Shade seemed disinclined to do more than cover himself, easier for the warlock with his expansive cloak, and wait for things to settle.

Gradually, the situation did. The wind became no more than a light breeze again and the dust and gra.s.s returned to the earth from which they had been torn. As for the dragons, they were already far to the north of the field by the time Wellen and Xabene looked up.

It was also at this time that they noticed that the third member of their party was no longer huddled beside them.

"You have my grat.i.tude," Shade said, standing over them. He might have been talking about some minor gift they had given him, so disinterested did he sound. The warlock peered around at the open field. "So the drakes are at a loss, too."

Xabene was silent, perhaps measuring her chances against Shade, but Wellen was not going to wait for the ancient sorcerer to make their decisions for them. He had shown the master warlock that he could be entrusted with his life; now he intended to show the hooded t.i.tan that he could be respected and listened to, also.

Strengthening his resolve, he stood before Shade. "You just thanked me. I don't think you realize just how much you owe to us."

The near smile returned to the undead countenance, but no words escaped the lips to condemn Wellen for his impertinence. Shade was amused at the very least.

Wellen pushed on. "You lay unconscious, my doing, I admit-"

"Yours?" He had the warlock's interest now. The smile was not so deprecating anymore.

"Mine." The novice spellcaster waved it aside as something that could be discussed later, when he had finally had an opportunity to try to puzzle it all out for himself. "What matters is that we could have easily left you there, helpless, for the drakes to discover! The Dragon King would have found you most interesting considering what had happened here!"

"Indeed." Shade's gaze drifted to Xabene, who had come to stand behind and to one side of the angry scholar. Her left hand rested on Wellen's shoulder. "You have forever forsaken your masters now, female. I am the one being they can never forgive you for saving. Had the dragons seized me, they might have even forgiven you for losing the gnome and the book."

Xabene did not say anything, for which Wellen was appreciative, but the crushing strength with which she grasped his shoulder was a sure indication that the weary enchantress had not considered that.

The warlock returned his attention to the short figure before him. Standing face to half-face, Wellen knew that even if he had been of a more normal stature, he still would have not quite stood at eye level with the cloth-enshrouded t.i.tan. Shade was several inches above average and had such a commanding presence that he seemed even taller.

"You are correct in part it seems, Master Bedlam. I owe you, but not for simply saving my existence." Shade reached up and pulled back the hood. His glittering eyes flashed into and out of existence as he blinked in the sunlight. Xabene inhaled sharply, still not used to the sight. Wellen, too, found the eyes arresting. Who was Shade that he looked so? There was the name, Gerrod, but that hardly explained anything about the man. He was not even certain the name was a true one. That he had known legends also said something about him, but hardly enough.

Who was the man?

The warlock brushed hair back from his eyes. "I owe you for something just as essential to me. For the past few years it has become increasingly difficult to retain my mind. I've seen so much time go by, but so slowly! It has a withering effect, I can tell you."

And through nearly all of it you've been alone. The scholar was amazed that Shade had retained as much of his sanity as he had.

"You are an anchor, Master Bedlam, an anchor that has enabled me to plant my feet firmly on the ground again. Part of it was due to the simple fact that I pursued you, thus giving myself active purpose. That was minor, however. In truth, what drew me back more than anything else was seeing myself . . . in you."

"This is all very pretty," Xabene interrupted. Her hand continued to squeeze Wellen's shoulder. She was nervous about remaining here and he could not blame her for being that way. "But there must be a better time and place to discuss this than in this field."

"Indeed there is." Shade pulled the hood forward without thinking. Wellen felt as if some gate had been shut. For only the s.p.a.ce of a few breaths, he had captured a glimpse of the man behind the shadows. Now, the master warlock, the mask, stood before him. "And I shall take us all there, since no one else seems able."

Shade started to curl within himself, then paused. He glanced at Wellen, an appraising look spread across the portion of his visage that the explorer could see. "You have far greater potential than I imagined, Master Bedlam."

"What do you mean?"

"I find I still cannot teleport no matter which variation of the spell I try. You seem to have anch.o.r.ed me too well to the earth."

With neither Wellen nor Xabene able to cast such a spell themselves, Shade was their only hope. "Do I need to remove whatever I did?"

"That would be kind."

He tried to think of the spell being removed. Vaguely, Wellen saw a spectrum of colors that seemed to beckon to him, but when he tried to reach out with his thoughts, the spectrum vanished.

Shade shook his head. "It appears that we are destined to walk."

"We could summon something," the novice warlock suggested, trying to make up for his mistake. As a scholar and researcher with some success over the past few years, he had forgotten what it felt like to be a first-year student. The Dragonrealm had brought all those humiliating memories back a thousandfold.

"Risky, Master Bedlam. At this point, we're liable to summon back our scaly friends. No, walking is our best bet. The only thing that remains now is a destination." Shade frowned in thought. "My own sanctum, I regret to say, is both much too far away and too dangerous to reach from here. We would have to cross the clan caverns of Purple, who would be delighted to see all of us. A shame, Mito Pica is beyond that and west of Mito Pica is the Dagora Forest. We could find aid there."

Xabene was aghast at the idea. "Dagora Forest! The Green Dragon rules there!"

"Yes, I know. His line has always proved a benevolent one where humanity is concerned."

"I will not willingly place myself in the claws of any Dragon King!"

The warlock laughed, a raspy sound. "You have a spirit much in common with one I knew in my youthful days! Then where, my lady, do you desire to go? We have already spent much too much time jabbering with one another! Purple himself may return here before long, and he and your former masters were hardly the only ones interested in the gnome's treasures!"

"There's the tree." Wellen stared down Xabene, who flashed dagger eyes at him for betraying her secret place to the fearsome warlock. "We really don't have a choice, Xabene."

"Not anymore," she snarled. Despite her anger, the enchantress did not argue. "We could probably make it there just after nightfall."

"A tree?" It was clear that Shade desired to ask questions, but the spellcaster held back, likely because he and Wellen both knew that Xabene would not readily volunteer answers.

Although it was Xabene who led the trio, she being the only one who knew exactly where the tree was, it was Wellen who found himself in command. Neither of his companions trusted one another very far, but both had faith in the outsider. Wellen had proved himself time and again. Trust was evidently a rare and precious commodity in the Dragonrealm.

The walk was not so strenuous at first. Xabene had the worst of it; though she still moved with astonishing grace, she was no longer immune to the landscape. Things scratched her legs now and snagged on her clothing. As the journey progressed, she became more tight-lipped. Wellen began to understand just how much of her power had been granted to her by the mysterious Lords of the Dead. Without their favor, Xabene had little more ability than he did.

For all that the enchantress had lost, Wellen found her even more desirable that ever. He knew why; she had lost none of her beauty, but now she seemed human. Little things affected her. Xabene no longer pa.s.sed through the world. She was now a part of it.

They contemplated running, but a near fall by Wellen quickly squashed that suggestion. The nigh uniform look of the gra.s.sy plains hid the fact that there were treacherous gullies and holes. It was amazing that the horses had not thrown them at some point, but then the creatures had been more than they had seemed. The Lords of the Dead had probably calculated for worse dangers than uneven ground.