"Xabene!" The chamber quivered as another tremor shook the castle. A piece of ceiling stone crashed to the floor just to the right of the scholar. Neither the sudden crash nor the tremor so much as caused the sleeping enchantress to shift.

She must wake! he thought, before the entire citadel comes crashing down on us! Or just him, he corrected. It might be that Xabene was beyond the physical danger. "Xabene!"

Her eyes opened wide and stared skyward. He was overjoyed until he realized that nothing else was happening. Xabene merely lay on the platform, arms crossed, and watched the ceiling. She made no move to acknowledge him nor did she appear to notice the destruction going on around her.

"Xabene, I won't leave without you!"

The enchantress turned her eyes toward him. Though her mouth did not move, he had the impression that she spoke his name.

Madness or not, he seized the straw. Wellen held out his hand. "I have come to take you back with me."

She stretched out a hand toward his. It was not insubstantial, as he had a.s.sumed it would be, but very light. Slowly, her ghostlike form rose from the eerie platform and joined him. Xabene said nothing else, but the enchantress did smile.

Now what? Shade had not told him what to do after this. Wellen had a.s.sumed that he would recognize the way back when the time came, but nothing struck a chord.

Shade! What do I do?

In the chamber of the pentagram, the twelve still stood. The eleven Lords of the Dead and Shade. None of them had moved so much as a foot or even a finger in all the time, yet the signs of their savage battle were everywhere. The ceiling was gone, opening the chamber to the pitch-black sky that was occasionally lit by fire. Portions of the castle lay strewn about both the room and the landscape. Things glowed or melted or died, depending on the spell that had been cast.

Near the center, whirlwinds failing to dislodge his hood, stood Shade. He stared ahead at the one called Ephraim, but his mind, like theirs, was all over the landscape.

One part of his mind heard Wellen's anxious thoughts. Slowly smiling, an act which instantly pushed the Lords of the Dead to renewed efforts, the warlock responded.

Xabene's spirit, her ka as Shade had called it, turned toward one of the far walls with such abruptness that Wellen expected to see a horde of tentacled stalkers come crawling through. That was not the case. Instead, his unworldly companion began trying to pull him toward the wall. Uncertain but not knowing anything better to try, he allowed her to lead him, careful never to lose his hold. The enchantress's hand was so light it was almost possible to forget one was holding it. That could prove dangerous. If he and the ka were separated, Xabene might never wake.

He might never return.

She continued ahead, even when it was evident that the wall was not going to move for her. Bedlam started to warn her, then closed his mouth as first her fingers and then her arm disappeared through the stone. Within seconds, the enchantress had vanished, save for the hand the scholar still held.

"Xabene!" She might be able to walk through walls, but Wellen could hardly be expected to follow- His own hand sank into the stone without even the slightest tingle.

Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, the novice warlock allowed himself to be led through. He did not open his eyes until he was certain that enough time had pa.s.sed.

Wellen almost regretted reopening his eyes. They had left the castle interior and the spirit was now pulling him along with even greater force, almost as if she were nearing an important destination.

It would not have been so bad if the two of them had not been more than twenty feet above the ground.

He knew that Xabene did not have to fear falling, but he wondered what held him up. Certainly not his own skills. Could it be that Shade was aiding him again?

They flew swiftly over the landscape. Wellen dared to look back. For the past few moments, the citadel had been deathly quiet, but he doubted that the battle was over. If Shade had won, he would have joined them. If the warlock had fallen victim to the Lords of the Dead, the two mere mortals would hardly have been allowed to escape.

Something began to take form ahead of them. It resembled Shade's ball of light, but much, much larger. Xabene's spirit focused on it.

Behind them, there was a slow, building growl of thunder. It did not end after a few seconds, but continued to grow in intensity. Wellen did not have to be told that the final showdown was coming. When his wraithlike companion picked up her pace, he did not argue.

They were nearly upon the fiery sphere. It was wide enough to admit a score of riders traveling side-by-side and taller than the gnome's citadel. The heat made Wellen sweat, but he would have been willing to face the burning might of the sun, if only to escape this place.

He a.s.sumed this was escape.

With a final effort, Xabene dragged the two of them into the inferno.

"-back here, warlock!"

Wellen Bedlam looked up at the startled countenance of Benton Lore, who actually dropped his sword as he stared at the battered and torn figure lying in a heap on the rug next to Xabene's bed. The officer retrieved his weapon and, still stunned, stared into Wellen's face.

"Master Bedlam!"

The worn scholar tried to say something, but only a low croak escaped his now parched lips. He felt as if all fluid had been drained from his body.

"Get him water!"

One of Lore's men brought a mug. Wellen accepted the water and gulped it down. A sense of reality finally returned to him. "We're back!"

"You barely left! First the two of you vanish, then a second later, you return! What happened to you?"

He was not certain he had heard the officer's words correctly. "Only a few seconds?"

"No more."

"I do not-" The stench of the dead Necri attacked his sense of smell. What was left of the monsters had not been removed, something that Lore would have definitely had done at first opportunity. Memories tame tumbling back to him. With an effort he would not have thought left in him, Bedlam whirled around and pulled himself up. "Xabene!"

His heart sank. The pale enchantress lay as she had before. "What did you expect?" Commander Lore asked in open curiosity.

Wellen wanted to tell him about all that had occurred and how hours, not seconds, had pa.s.sed, but he could not take his eyes from the still figure. For all she had to answer for, he did not want to lose her. When he had been younger, the scholar had smiled in mild amus.e.m.e.nt at stories of people who were drawn together almost from the first they had met, despite their differences. Now, Wellen was not smiling, for with him it was true.

He put a hand on her arm.

Xabene stirred.

The soldiers tensed, as if expecting some new trap, but Lore signalled them to relax. "What have you done, Master Bedlam?" "Nothing!"

She opened her eyes wide, quickly scanning the chamber as if unable to believe where she was. Then the enchantress focused on Wellen. To his surprise, Xabene turned away.

"I'm sorry . . . it was so tempting at first."

"What was?"

Xabene turned back. Her expression was hard, cynical, but her eyes were moist. "What do you think? They offered me all that power back . . . and more . . . "

"And did you accept their offer?" Benton Lore asked. His manner was easy but his falchion was ready. Wellen glared at him, but the soldier did not lower the blade.

"I almost did . . . but then I realized what that would mean." "Yet, you still let them through!"

"I had no choice by then! They were too strong!" She tried to rise, but it became apparent almost immediately that her strength was far from replenished. "Too strong!"

"Commander Lore, I will vouch for her!" Wellen understood the officer's concern, but Lore seemed too determined to have someone to punish for the embarra.s.sing intrusion. "She was hardly an honored guest! You also might recall what Shade said . . . not too long ago . . . about how she would have died before very long if the part of her the Lords of the Dead had stolen had not been returned."

Lore was by no means convinced, but he quieted nonetheless. "And where is Master Shade? Will he be returning shortly, too?"

"He isn't here?" Xabene looked around, as if expecting the shadowy warlock to materialize in some corner. "But he was the one who showed me the way back!"

"He stayed behind." The rolling thunder echoed in Bedlam's mind. "He was still fighting the necromancers. Shade must have wanted us out of the way."

"But I thought that she was the only path open to you," Benton Lore commented, forgetting his distrust of Xabene for a time. "If she is awake and well now, then that path is closed to him."

Taking the enchantress by the arms, Wellen asked, "Can you open the path again? Can you?"

"No!" She looked away, not wanting to see his disappointment. "They've severed the link! I'm cut off from them forever! I'll never be . . . " Xabene's voice faced away as she contemplated her future.

The thunder seemed to roll even louder in his head. He closed his eyes and tried to will it away. "Then, Shade's trapped in their domain."

Chapter Fourteen.

The rest of the night pa.s.sed without any sign of Shade's return. Wellen was surprised at the depth of emotion he felt for the peculiar, often tragic, warlock. Shade had saved him more than once and the last time for no reason at all. His only comfort lay in the fact that the Lords of the Dead had been conspicuously absent, too. They had not attempted a second invasion. Wellen could only hope that if the warlock had perished, he had at least taken the necromancers with him.

Xabene was still asleep on his arm when Benton Lore quietly returned to their chamber. The enchantress, in a complete reversal of the sort of personality she had exhibited upon their first encounter, had pleaded with the weary scholar to remain with her. He could hardly blame her. Had he suffered as she had, it was likely he would have made the same request.

"Good morning," the black man quietly said with just a touch of mirth in his eyes. "Sleep well?"

The scholar shook his head. He had dozed, but nothing more. Each sound had made him think that either Shade or the Lords of the Dead had finally made a reappearance.

Hearing Lore, the enchantress stirred. When she realized where she was lying, she quickly sat up. "What is it?"

"Morning, nothing more."

"Morning . . . " Xabene grew wistful. "I used to love the nights . . . "

"His Majesty would like to see you," Lore announced. Wellen looked down at his ruined clothing. "Do we have some time or are we required there now?"

"You have time to make yourself presentable, of course. Her presence is not required."

Before Xabene could say anything, the scholar replied, "I think he will want both of us there."

"As you wish." The commander snapped his fingers. Two human servants brought in food and fresh clothing. Benton Lore seemed more than just a loyal soldier serving a Dragon King. He was more of a major-domo, ever making certain that the kingdom, his kingdom, ran as smoothly as possible. Lore was probably almost as much the ruler as the Green Dragon. "A guard will be posted outside. When you are ready, you will be brought before His Majesty. Until then."

The officer departed, leaving Wellen and Xabene in the care of the servants, who, it seemed, were there to see that the duo did not dawdle. The two chose to eat first, hunger having quickly stirred once they were awake.

"What do you do now?" Xabene asked between bites of a juicy fruit called a srevo.

"What we do depends on the Dragon King." Whether she was distancing herself for his sake or her own, Wellen had no intention of parting just yet.

A pa.s.sing smile, only a shadow of the once-seductive one. "And what do you think he'll want of us?"

Wellen knew the answer to that one without thinking about it. "It will have something to do with the gnome, I'm certain. What else is there?"

She grimaced. "You're probably right."

They ate in silence after that.

At first, it seemed he was wrong.

"I have utilized all options open to me," the dragon informed them almost immediately upon their arrival. "And I find no trace of either the Lords of the Dead or Shade. None of the gateways that they use are open and my power is insufficient to break through the lock spells they have set. Insufficient, that is, for the time being."

The Dragon King's almost clinical manner reminded WeIlen of one of his instructors in school. An image of the drake lord teaching a bored cla.s.s formed in his mind. He quickly stiffed it and waited for the reptilian monarch to continue.

It almost seemed as if the Green Dragon was hesitant to add to what he had already said. "Your warlock friend still lackssss hisss . . . his ability to teleport, that is, if your spell still holds true."

Consternation filled the novice sorcerer. He had completely forgotten about the accidental 'curse' he had laid upon the hooded warlock. Shade had brought them to the domain of the Lords of the Dead and then had shown them the way out, but in neither case had he needed to rely on a spell of teleportation, although what spell Shade had used to send them to the necromancers' foul kingdom was beyond him. Wellen was almost certain that the warlock had materialized in the hall during the initial chaos, but if the Green Dragon had not had an opportunity to free Shade of Bedlam's blunder, then the scholar was mistaken. In the rush of things, it had probably just seemed as if the warlock had teleported.

"Then, he has no chance." In a sense, Wellen realized that he had condemned the ancient spellcaster to his fate. "That is where you might be wrong."

"You know something?"

"I fear you will not like it, human."

He knew then what the Dragon King was suggesting. "You want me to go and seek out the gnome."

"Insanity!" Xabene, who had kept quiet since their arrival, mostly because the reptilian monarch had stared her down almost immediately, dared step toward the ma.s.sive figure lying before them. Benton Lore and several guards readied their weapons. While Wellen could not fault their loyalty, he did find it hard to think that they could possibly protect the Dragon King better than he himself could. What were swords and spears compared to one paw?

"I merely offered the choice, female," snarled Green. The enchantress, staring up at his open jaws, stepped back behind the dubious protection of Wellen's body. "I feel that Master Bedlam would have wanted to know regardless."

"Thank you, yes." The idea of returning to the field and seeking out the hermitic gnome, a creature who had baffled and foiled would-be conquerers for as long as anyone could remember, appeared ludicrous on the surface. It also appeared ludicrous below the surface.

And yet . . .

"Shade might be dead," Xabene reminded him, seeing the calculating look on his visage. "Could he possibly hold on for so long?"

He remembered the rolling thunder again. If the shadowy warlock was dead, however, why were the Lords of the Dead not moving? Surely they still wanted Wellen. There was also Xabene. He doubted that they would leave her be.

It was no use mulling it over and over. The explorer knew what his decision was already. He had to know. He had to try. "How can I do what no one else has in all these centuries? How can I gain entrance to the gnome's citadel?"

The burning eyes of his host lowered. "That, I fear, I do not know. I cannot even ssssay how you might find the curssssed place!"

"Then why bring it up?" Xabene asked, her voice and stance mocking.

"Because I am in debt to the gray one!" The Dragon King would say no more about that. "And if I knew of a way to send mysssself to hissss . . . his aid, I would."

"Wellen, listen to me!" The raven-tressed woman turned to him so that they faced each other. She moved close, too close for his peace of mind, and said, "It would be madness to put yourself in the claws of Purple. While he is a lover of knowledge, like this one, he lacks any care for humanity. As long as you are useful to him, you stay alive! Become useless and you perish!"

"She is correct in what she says."