Serkadion Manee, his mind returning to the reality of the room, extended a twisted hand toward the duo. "Come! He must be there!"

This time, Wellen was prepared for the teleport.

They were in another corridor, but its contents did not immediately register with the scholar, for his attention was snared by the gnome, who was clutching his head in obvious agony. Bedlam started to reach for him, trying to give aid in some way, but Manee waved him back.

"It is nothing! Nothing!"

"You! You have tricked me!"

Wellen forgot all else at the sudden shout from far down the corridor. He turned, unable to believe that his ears had heard true.

"Wellen! He's here!"

Shade stood in the midst of the long, narrow hall, a demonic fury. Though distance and the hood shadowed his features as usual, there was no doubt as to the intensity of his anger, an anger directed not at Bedlam or the enchantress, but rather at the short, squat figure who had brought them here.

There was no sign of injury, no indication at all that the warlock had suffered in his battle against his cousins. Wellen knew that not all wounds were visible, but Shade seemed to suffer from none, not if his manic activity was a sign.

"Which one is it, Serkadion Manee?" the cloaked figure roared. "Which one is it? I've gone through shelves already and none of them have it!"

Shade picked up a ma.s.sive, crimson book and threw it at one of the empty shelves. Wellen blinked; he had been so caught up in the discovery of the warlock that he had not even noticed what lined the walls of the corridor.

Books. Row upon row of books stretching far off into the distance. If anything, this hall was longer than the first he had traveled. Perhaps it even went on forever.

All the books were identical in color and form. There were hundreds . . . no . . . thousands of volumes in this corridor alone and from the looks of things, there were side hallways in the distance. More shelves with more books? Small wonder that Shade was growing frustrated in his search for . . . for what?

Then the maddened spellcaster pulled another volume from one of the walls, allowing the scholar to at last see the cover.

A stylized dragon. Without seeing the other books, he knew that they, too, would have the same design.

"Which one is it?" Shade snarled. "Which one is the true dragon tome?"

Serkadion Manee chuckled. From his hands he produced the volume that Wellen and Xabene had watched him utilize only minutes before. The gnome tossed the book toward the enraged figure. It flew with unerring accuracy into the waiting fingers of the other spellcaster. Shade forgot the others and began paging through the tome. After several seconds, however, his anger began to resurface. What he sought was not in the book Manee had given to him.

"This is not it, either!" The book fell to the top of the pile that had acc.u.mulated at Shade's feet. "Another useless collection of dribble!"

The gnome's countenance darkened. "Dribble? Yes, you are Vraad! No concern with anything except what you desire! All else is to be swept aside as inconsequential!"

"I want only one thing! I want nothing else this accursed, parasitic world has offered! Where is the true dragon tome?"

He could not see it. Wellen pitied Shade, so caught up in his quest and his madness that he could not see what Serkadion Manee was trying to show him.

It was apparent to the gnome, too. He produced another book, identical in design but this time a forest green in color, and held it up before his shadowy counterpart.

"This is the true dragon tome."

"Give it to me!"

Manee ignored his demand. Releasing the book, he sent it floating a few feet before him. At the same time, a new volume materialized. This one was deep blue, but otherwise a twin of the others. "This is the true dragon tome."

Shade began to say something, but stopped. He simply stared at the gnome and the floating books.

A rainbow of literature formed before the eyes of all. Wellen had never seen so many variations of color at one time. He counted more than a dozen shades of green and was certain there were more. Book after book materialized and dematerialized, only to be replaced by another.

"These are all the true dragon tome." The gnome took amus.e.m.e.nt at the horrified expression stretching across the warlock's deathly visage. "As is every volume on every shelf in every hall."

"All . . . of them?"

There was something Serkadion Mame had not yet said that Bedlam suspected would finish whatever reserves of anger and hope that Shade had left.

"All of them, yes, my dark and annoying friend." Manee waved a hand and every book that had been torn off the shelves returned to its rightful resting place. The countless volumes that he himself had summoned also vanished, no doubt to their own shelves.

Serkadion Manee smiled widely and finally concluded, "And you have yet to see the other libraries."

Chapter Eighteen.

In Serkadion Manee's intricate trap, the Purple Dragon continued to struggle. Now and then, he found he made a little more progress. Soon, it would be enough to free him.

Soon.

The old sorcerer ran a hand over his hairless head. Wellen noticed him wince again. The jabs, or whatever they were, were becoming more frequent. He wondered if Manee understood that he was overtaxing himself.

Shade was still refusing to believe what he had heard. He took a few steps toward the master of the citadel. "You lie! You have to be!" With a sweep of his arm he indicated the other volumes. "These are ploys, an elaborate plot to hide the one, true tome!"

Sounding much like a disappointed parent, Serkadion Manee returned, "You know who I am, Vraad."

"I do! Master Dru Zeree studied your works long and hard! It was because of your writings that he searched and found this accursed land!"

"I wish I had met him. From what else I have gathered, he was rather remarkable. A Vraad who did more than fulfill his childish fantasies was a rare one even in my time . . . and I have lived much, much longer than you, stripling!"

"Which is why I know you must have what I seek!" Shade looked triumphant and not a little mad. "You could not be alive otherwise! Not after all this time!"

Manee arched what had once been an eyebrow. "Is that what you want? Is that all? A thousand thousand years of research and that is all you want?"

His almost matter-of-fact tone made all of them curious. If he was talking about immortality, a thing sought after by so many over the millennia, then his manner was puzzling. Wellen doubted that he could be so nonchalant about such an amazing discovery. No mage that he had ever met had discovered a way to tap into the world's life and extend his own for more than three, possibly four hundred years. Even the Dragon Kings were mortal.

Pulling back his hood and fully revealing his horrific state, the warlock almost pleaded. "Yes, that is what I want! That is all that I want! I will give this world neither my body nor my soul!"

"Hmmph." Serkadion Manee saw what Shade could not. Wellen was certain that anyone other than the shadowy warlock would have noticed the truth. Shade had long ago given his body and soul to this world, or at least a good portion of each. The rest belonged to the place called Nimth. The warlock was a man caught between two worlds, neither of which he saw as promising him a simple and quiet fate.

Shade looked for help. "Master Bedlam, I am sorry. The spell used on Xabene by my cousins urged me to a sudden and daring plan, a spell hidden in your mind. I desired no harm to come to you. This the Green Dragon and I agreed upon."

They had both betrayed him. Only Xabene, who had proven herself to him, still earned his trust. If not for her, WeIlen would have wished that he had never thought of searching for the legendary Dragonrealm. It was a place of treachery and greed, nothing more. "How did you escape from the Lords of the Dead?"

"They are shadows of what we once were. Only I still have ties to Nimth, to the power that is both our right and our curse."

"He means he has broken through and linked himself to a world ravaged by my kind," Serkadion Manee argued. "Only a true Vraad would think of allying himself with a force I estimate had been perverted beyond repair."

"As have you."

"I have not."

"I don't believe you." There was, however, a touch of uncertainty in Shade's voice.

"It matters not what you believe." The gnome was disgusted. "I had forgotten what happens when two Vraad meet. Very well, before we come to blows, I shall give you what you desire and then you can leave." He winced. "Do not bother to come back. Our mutual heritage will not open this citadel to you again. Rather, it should have never let you inside."

"All I want is the secret of immorality . . . and the promise that Master Bedlam here will not become a part of your collection." .

Serkadion Manee wore a pained expression. "He will remain here only so long as he chooses to. Now then," the gnarled spellcaster reached into the confines of his robe and removed yet another book. Pitch black, Wellen would have thought it more appropriate for death rather than immortality. Manee held it out. "This is what you were seeking. Read it, use it if you will, and depart. You may thank Master Wellen Bedlam for your safety and the fact that I am even giving you this one chance."

"He has my grat.i.tude. I hope one day he will understand, if only for the sake of one we both know."

Bowing his head, Wellen would not meet the crystalline gaze. Whatever Shade or Gerrod had been to the scholar's ancestor, the warlock had to be a shadow of that man now. He truly lived up to his self-chosen appellation.

The warlock grabbed the proffered book and began thumbing through it. His eagerness made him bat the pages aside with such intensity that it was a wonder he was able to ready any of it. Serkadion Manee watched him for a breath or two, then tsked at the cloaked figure's impatience.

"That is not how you will find it. Do what you are doing and you will search through the tome forever. Simply think about what you desire. My book will do the rest."

Shade visibly debated believing the gnome, then decided it was worth a try. He held the dragon tome slightly away from him, unnecessarily, Wellen suspected, but Shade had always seemed to live the dramatic, and stared at it.

The pages flipped by. Nearly two-thirds of the way through the volume, they ceased. Shade slammed a gloved hand on the page, which made his counterpart frown, and pulled the book to him. He began to read avidly, not caring at all the sight his desperation made of him.

All was well at first, but then the warlock's brow furrowed. He reread part of the page, silently mouthing the words as if he could not believe what was written there.

"You cannot be serious!" he snarled. "You would not have done this! It would mean giving yourself up to this land and its accursed, covetous mind! It would mean forever being tied to this one place!"

"What you see is truth."

"You have been seen throughout the Dragonrealm!" "There are ways. Temporary measures that allow me access and the ability to taste outside life."

Now it was Shade who was disgusted. "You are truly Vraad after all even though the rest of you belongs to this domain! I could only dream of such a travesty!"

Serkadion Manee held his head. "I have given you what you wanted. If you choose to decline it, then our business is ended. You may leave us any time you like."

"Leave you?" The warlock threw the dragon tome to the floor. One hand went up and pulled the hood back over. Shade was a different person when all but hidden by the voluminous cloak. "Only with them!"

"I knew he could not be trusted!" Xabene whispered. "He let you think he was a prisoner or nearly dead just so that you would help him gain entrance!"

"I don't know . . . "

Serkadion Manee had stepped in front of the duo. "They do not wish to depart with you. Leave now or not at all."

Holding out a hand, Shade tried to appeal to the confused scholar. "Master Bedlam, have him explain what has happened to the others he allowed inside! Ask him why neither the Dragon King nor any of the others who sought, foolishly, I see, the secrets of this monster ever questioned those folk! Ask him what became of them!"

"It is time you left." Serkadion Manee pointed at the other Vraad.

A brilliant emerald green aura bathed Shade. The warlock smiled and the aura winked out of existence as abruptly as it had formed.

"My cousins showed more imagination."

Helpless, Wellen and Xabene stepped back from Manee. The gnome ignored them. "You want imagination?"

Every book from the shelves before, next to, and behind the hooded figure shot forth.

Shade covered his face as the paper hailstorm battered and buried him. Though he must have sought to protect himself with his own skills, several volumes struck him soundly on the head. The warlock went down on one knee. The dragon tomes, what he had desired for so very long, continued to come to join their brethren in the a.s.sault.

Unable to stand it any longer, Wellen ceased his retreat and came up behind the gnome. Manee, still holding his head and now breathing with a little difficulty, paid him no mind as he concentrated on defeating his rival.

"A little knowledge is a dangerous thing!" snarled Serkadion Manee. Despite his seeming triumph, however, each pa.s.sing second saw him more and more exhausted. He clutched his side.

Wellen's head screamed of the danger he was thrusting himself into, but the novice warlock patently ignored both the warning and the fear he felt rising. Perhaps it was still the memory of Shade and his silent talk with the phantasms of the scholar's ancestors or even Wellen's own brief conversation with Sharissa Zeree's specter, but he could not allow Serkadion Manee to continue.

Praying that something, anything, would happen, Bedlam touched the gnome's shoulder.

In the chamber where the Dragon King struggled, the magical page that held him prisoner burst into flames.

The Purple Dragon roared.

Wellen had hardly expected Serkadion Manee to scream, but the master of the citadel did so-and very loudly. Manee doubled over, falling to the floor. One hand still clutched his head. "Too much . . ." he muttered. "Too much . . . but it cannot be! Not me!" Then, "He will escape . . . he will . . ."

"What did you do?" the enchantress asked, joining Wellen. The gnome, curled up, seemed to be in shock, although it might have been the effect of sorcery. Slowly, his words became quieter. Serkadion Manee eventually froze in one position. Wellen stared at his hand, uncertain as to whether he was the cause or not. When Xabene moved even closer to him, he was almost afraid to touch her for fear the same fate that had befallen Serkadion Manee would befall her.

"I don't know . . . it could have been me . . ." He reached toward the fallen figure, but pulled his hand back at the last moment. Wellen had no desire to kill Manee. That might happen if he touched him again. He still had no control over his abilities.

Understanding his quandary, Xabene knelt and inspected Serkadion Manee for him. Her first touch was tentative, but when the still figure did not respond, she became less cautious. After a brief inspection, the enchantress pushed aside some hair that had fallen forward and said, "He's either in a trance or there's a spell on him."

"Is there anything you can do?"

"I could care less about doing anything for this parasite . . . but the answer is no; I can't. What has him is beyond my meager powers."

"I could try to touch him again," he suggested with some hesitation, his hands clenched, "but it might only harm him. I . . . I do not even dare touch you."

Xabene reached out and took hold of his left hand before he realized what she was about.

"No-" His protest faded when nothing happened. Bedlam glared at the woman.

She smiled. "You seem to work off your emotions. I counted on the fact that you wouldn't want to hurt me. I was right."

As a scholar, he would have argued her logic, especially as it did not take in so any other considerations. On a more personal level, he agreed with her . . . not that he planned on telling the enchantress that.

His eyes drifted beyond her, alighting on the ma.s.sive pile of bulky tomes. "Shade!"