Around him, the other Seekers flew with an equal lack of concern. By rights, that should have been enough to satisfy him, for they certainly had to know their homeland better than he, but the warning would not cease. He looked below, thinking that there might be a threat from that direction. The incredible height from which he peered down gave him an excellent view of the region for miles around, but the most dangerous thing he noted was a small pack of minor drakes at work on a kill. They were of the wingless variety and fairly slow-witted from the looks of them, hardly a threat.

So what was there, other than being dropped, that would endanger him? Wellen tried to look up, but the angle at which he was being held allowed him to scan only those areas ahead of the flock. Twisting around only threatened to loosen his companions' grips, something he did not want to cause. Yet, where else was there to look?

At last, unable to resist the constant nagging in his mind, he carefully tried to turn enough to see. The Seekers holding him squawked, but he merely shook his head. His attempt was not entirely successful, as it would have required the ability to twist his neck in a complete circle, but he was able to shift enough so that he could see some of the clouds just behind and above them.

The explorer stared narrow-eyed at the clouds. It had been clouds which had hidden the dragon that had murdered his companions.

He could not take the risk. Twisting back, he regained the attention of one of the avians and shouted, "The clouds! I think there's something in the clouds!"

The Seeker merely looked at him, one eye c.o.c.ked as usual. He repeated the warning, wondering if it understood his words at all. Wellen had no right to a.s.sume that all Seekers understood human common language. In fact, it surprised him that people on this continent still spoke the same tongue. Why was that?

Time for questions later! he reprimanded the scholar within. His two guardians matched gazes, possibly speaking in that silent manner of the race, but nothing more happened. If they had mulled over his warning at all, either they had not believed it or they thought it not important enough. Perhaps they had even known in advance but were merely allowing possible watchers to fall into some secret trap. He hoped but did not believe the last was the case.

Minutes later, the flock began to descend. As the earth rushed toward him, the human searched for a possible destination. He saw nothing but more hills and woods. Only another pause, then. Wellen quickly scanned the rest of the landscape and noted some hills far to the southeast. Their regularity made him wonder if they were the same hills where Shade had first rescued him from the scavengers.

Thinking of the warlock made him wonder what the murky figure had thought when he had woken from his musings. Had he even gotten that far? Was Shade still conversing with the images of long-dead companions? For all the danger that the ancient warlock represented, Wellen could not help feeling sorry for him, for all the years of fear and uncertainty he knew the spellcaster had gone through.

His feet touched the ground, erasing such notions. The avians released him once they were certain momentum would not send him tumbling forward. Around him, the other creatures landed. None of his companions were at all concerned, but the broad human was not so certain. While very nebulous, his sudden ability to detect danger had not failed. Each time there had been a threat, however remote it might have been.

Able to stretch his legs, Wellen went through a methodical listing of possibilities. Why would he not see a danger, yet feel its presence? First, because it was not there. Second, because it was far away . . . which did not seem that likely to him. Third . . . he paced, both to think and work his muscles more . . . third . . .

Because it doesn't want to be seen? Shade's cavern had been masked by a spell, but Wellen had seen through it, much to the warlock's surprise. That meant that he had more than average potential. Would it be possible to do the same here?

Not exactly certain what he should be doing but willing to experiment, Wellen Bedlam tried to open up his mind completely. He had not been concentrating when he had broken Shade's spell, so he suspected that such a route would not work here. As with many things, trying too hard often led to failure. Perhaps if he allowed his premonition to guide him, he might find something.

To his surprise, he found himself turning his gaze to the east and high up in the sky. There was no conscious effort; Wellen simply moved. Still, he saw nothing, despite scanning the sky carefully, and doubt began to resurface.

Then vague outlines began to take shape in the sky above them. He could not tell what they were, but he could see that they were closing the distance between themselves and the flock in swift fashion.

Grabbing hold of the nearest avian, he pointed at the oncoming shapes. "We're about to be attacked!"

A number of the Seekers looked in the direction the explorer pointed, but none of them reacted as if they had seen what he did. The one that Wellen had grabbed hold of gave him a glance whose meaning was the same in either human or avian terms. Wellen refused to give up, however. He took the Seeker's claw and pressed it against his own forehead. With as much will as he could muster, the human envisioned what he had discovered.

Almost instantly, the avian pulled back his hand, eyes wide. At first, Wellen was not certain he had succeeded, but then the Seekers as a whole turned toward the sky. A change came over the flock. Their feathers bristled and they readied their talons for combat.

Wellen saw that the shapes were nearly upon them.

The bird folk began to take to the air, save for one that remained by him. As they rose, a transformation took place among the winged figures descending. Their cloaking spell uncovered, they evidently saw no more use for it. Just before the two groups met, the last shreds of sorcery burned away, revealing in its place . . . horror.

"G.o.ds!" Bedlam had expected birdlike creatures, thinking that the wings meant the attackers must be like his avian allies. These were not, however. The monstrosities that the Seekers now faced resembled another flier, the bat. Yet, no bat ever resembled these. The attackers were as tall, if not taller, than Wellen and almost as manlike as the bird folk. Where the avians wore the mantle of civilization, however, the bat creatures were without a doubt savage killers.

He did not doubt that it was he they were after. Coincidence could only be stretched so far.

Why? Why does everyone want me? Whatever the reason, Wellen knew it was a mistake. He knew nothing and had nothing anyone would desire. For some insane reason, though, fate had chosen Wellen Bedlam to be its jester.

The two sides were evenly matched in terms of numbers, but the Seekers were badly lacking otherwise. They had power, true, but so did the bats. Spells were unleashed and spells were cancelled out. A few did some damage, but most caused a flash or a crackling sound and nothing more. The bats were also not mere animals; they moved with too much skill and daring and reacted too efficiently when attacked to be thought of as such. It was physical strength that would decide victory and that, unfortunately, belonged to the deathly pale horrors.

Even as he realized that, Wellen saw a Seeker plummet to the earth, its chest a gaping, blood-covered hole. Another was torn apart by two monsters who then threw the remains about. Intelligent, yes, but bloodl.u.s.t clouded their senses a bit. One of the two died suddenly when a Seeker came from nowhere and slashed the back of its throat completely open. The other reacted, however, and raced to meet its companion's killer.

The Seeker beside Wellen put a claw on his shoulder. The human nodded, knowing without looking what the avian wanted. a.s.sured, his feathered guardian leaped into the air to do its part in a battle it must have known was lost already. Wellen could not have blamed it; he would have done the same had he some way of a.s.sisting. His sorcerous abilities were limited to say the very least. The explorer had a knife, but his sword had been taken from him. Wellen pulled the blade free nonetheless, knowing he would need it whether his next decision proved to be running or fighting.

Either way, he expected to be dead or a prisoner before the sun had set.

"Run! This way!" a voice, female, called.

The voice came from his right. Wellen searched that region, but saw no one.

"Run, I said!" A figure, as female as the voice, materialized next to one of the trees. The woman wore a long cloak that blended in with the colors of the forest, which was the reason he had not noticed her at first. She waved for him to come to her. "Hurry! It's your only chance!"

It twisted Wellen's stomach to abandon the Seekers, who were giving their lives for him because he had saved one of their most precious ones, but they fought in great part to keep him from the bats and this looked like the only way their desire might still be fulfilled.

Still holding the blade ready, the harried scholar ran toward her. All the while he wondered. What now? Who else wants me?

"A little farther!"

He tore through the foliage and came up next to her. For one brief breath, Wellen froze and stared at the exotic, pale countenance. Then, she broke the spell by tossing a cloak like her own at him.

"Put this on over your other clothing!"

With all their power, he doubted that the cloaks, however much they resembled the forest, would fool the bats for very long. While he was donning the bulky garment, though, Wellen noticed that its pattern shifted.

"It adjusts to whatever your surroundings resemble. Precisely adjusts."

True camouflage. It was still doubtful that the trick would work for more than a few minutes, but any time it bought might give Wellen time to think of something else . . . that was what he hoped.

When he was finished, she gave him a very brief inspection. "That'll do! Follow me!"

The two moved swiftly through the woods. Wellen marvelled at how the branches and the gra.s.s never seemed to touch his guide. She moved like the wind, something he wished was possible for him, for every bit of foliage grabbed at his garments or sought out his face.

The sounds of battle had died down. Wellen heard a heart- stopping shriek of anger that no Seeker would have been capable of unleashing and suspected that the bat creatures had discovered him missing. It would not be long now. The only positive note, and it was indeed a slim one, was that of the dozen or so monsters, at least a few had likely died or been badly wounded by the unfortunate bird folk. With their numbers diminished, they would not be able to cover the region as thoroughly as they might have before.

It gave him slim hope.

His guide, who moved like an elf but did not resemble one, slowed and reached out a hand. Wellen grasped it, feeling a tingle run through him that had nothing to do with warnings of danger. He had time to think of how smooth and cool that hand was before she commanded, "Close your eyes and hold tight!"

Close my eyes? "Why?"

Her smile was a bit crooked, but the perfection of her lips made him ignore that. "To live."

He could hardly argue with that. Wellen shut his eyes and prayed it would not be his last mistake.

There was a ripple, as if he had struck and pa.s.sed through the surface of a lake. Wellen heard the distant shriek of a bat creature, but it broke off abruptly. He collided with his rescuer, who had stopped running almost at the same moment as the shriek had ceased.

"You can open your eyes again."

Once more, he was stunned by her beauty. The hair was at least as black as night, if not more so, and it worked to perfectly accent her ivory skin. His gaze met her own. Wellen thought of the cat people in the mountains east of his homeland. With eyes such as hers he would have almost suspected her of being a crossbreed.

"You may relax now. We'll be safe here for a time." Seeing that he was sweating from all the clothing, she added, "You can take that off, too. It was just a precaution. I didn't know how fast they might be after us."

"Who are you? What were those things? How did you know where I was?"

"Such an inquisitive man." Her change in demeanor was disconcerting. She talked as if they had not been pursued by unG.o.dly fiends but rather had been out for a stroll after a picnic. "I like that. You don't demand like so many I've known. Polite even under the circ.u.mstances."

"Then perhaps you would be so kind as to answer some of my questions," he returned, undoing the cloak. Wellen hated to part with it, especially without examining it, but the heat was getting to him.

Slender fingers worked as she began to remove her own cloak. "My name is Xabene."

"Xabene." Her name was all he could think of to say, for the woman dropped her cloak at that point.

"And yours?"

"Wellen. Bedlam."

"An interesting name." She reached toward him with two smooth, pale arms. "May 1?" When he blinked, the raven- haired woman added, "May I take the cloak?"

The scholar pulled himself together. Handing her the fascinating garment, he asked again, "What were those things that attacked the Seekers?"

She began folding his cloak. "Those were the Neat You wouldn't like them."

"I didn't." Bedlam noticed that the garment in her hands kept decreasing in size as she continued to fold it. The bundle was now only half as big as when Xabene had started. "What did they want of me?"

"Probably the same thing that the birds wanted." The bundle now fit into the palm of her hand, yet she still folded. "Do you know what they wanted from you?"

He watched as the cloak became a tiny square of cloth. When Xabene seemed satisfied, and the bundle was hardly bigger than a large coin, she deposited it into a pouch at her waist.

"Do you know?" she asked again.

"They were rescuing me. I saved the life of one of their young."

Her visible impression of him rose. He felt unreasonably pleased at that. "It's not many a human that the birds respect at all."

"It seems to be the only good piece of luck that I've had since coming here." Other than now, he added in silence. Xabene's mere presence disconcerted him.

"And where did you come from?"

"Overseas." An unanswered question of his own nagged at him again. "Why did you rescue me? How could you even know I'd be there?"

She did not seem inclined to take it any further at that point. Bending over, Xabene retrieved her own cloak. She bundled it up rather than folded it. "There's a time for questions later. I've been remiss." Her smile bewitched. "I know of a place where we can be alone . . . and talk in peace."

The idea of actually being able to relax and exchange information appealed so much to the brown-haired man that he was almost able to forget the bloodshed he was responsible for. Perhaps Xabene would be able to shed light on the situation, including the secret of the mysterious dragon tome that Shade had wanted and thought that Wellen had come to steal.

Admittedly, he did not mind the thought of remaining with Xabene for a time.

The lithe, commanding woman was crumpling the second cloak together. Like the first, it seemed to shrink as she packed the cloth tighter. Since she had not bothered to fold it, the garment ended up resembling a small pile of loose material shoved together. When it was no larger than the other, she put it away.

"You are a sorceress."

"Sorceress, witch, enchantress . . . the t.i.tles all mean the same thing now, but, yes, I am." Her eyes half-closed and she gave him a look that reminded him of a child who thinks it has disappointed a parent. "Does that bother you so much?"

"Not at all. You might be able to help me." Perhaps she would be able to instruct him in the development of his own abilities. For the first time in quite some while, he felt truly encouraged.

Xabene almost came to him. "I'm so glad. So many people do not understand. Now come. We have just a short distance to cover, but the sun is about to set." The enchantress reached out and took his hand again. "You don't want to be out here at night. There's no telling what sort of dark things might be roaming about."

He allowed her to lead him along, but they only had gone a few paces when he pulled her to a halt.

"What is it?"

Wellen pointed to the east. The trees had kept much of the landscape in that direction hidden, and now was the first time he had been able to get some bearing on his location. To his surprise, the sight before him was very, very familiar. "Those hills. Are there others like them?"

"None." There was something in her tone that hinted he should not waste any more time, but Wellen wanted to be certain. "I think . . . they look like the ones where I was rescued by. . . where I was rescued." He decided not to mention Shade, not wanting to worry Xabene further.

"If you think that those hills look familiar, they probably do. The first Dragon King of this region is supposed to have raised them up that way. That was when their power seemed limitless. The present ones can't do that as far as I know, although you shouldn't underestimate them."

"I won't." More questions to ask. Who were the Dragon Kings? He was just about to return his attention to the trek at hand when he noticed a tiny structure vaguely east of the two of them but not quite as far as the hills. It seemed to be sitting in the middle of nowhere. Nothing else existed around it, save empty field and a few wooded regions. Why would someone build such a place here? "What is that building?"

For the first time, she looked at him with suspicion. "That's the citadel of the gnome. It's where he works and where he keeps his secrets. No one get in or out of that gray place but him."

Wellen was not deterred. "I think . . . I think I have to go see him."

"No." Her voice was flat. "You don't want to see the gnome."

"Why, is he dangerous?"

She shrugged. "There's a vast, ruined city on the eastern edge of the Dragonrealm. Part of it extends into the sea now."

The city guarded by the sea serpents. "I remember it. We pa.s.sed it on our way to the southern sh.o.r.es."

"A good thing. The Dragon King who took it over is very possessive." Her smile held no warmth. "It'd been in ruins for over a thousand years before that."

"What had that got to do with the gnome?"

Xabene laughed. "Who do you think made it that way?"

He gave her a doubtful look. "Not him?"

"Of course. Now tell me; is that dangerous enough for you?"

Chapter Eight.

"I have waited so very long for the book," the Dragon King Purple rumbled. He lay just outside of the caverns where the clans made their home. The setting sun reflected off his scales, causing him to glitter. Purple might have seemed a strange color for a dragon, but he felt it quite regal . . . and no one laughed at a purple dragon, anyway. No one who lived for very long after, that is.