Finally tiring of his little dancers, he dismissed them back to the flame. It was silly, he decided, to waste his newfound strength on so childish a spell. With his present level of competency, the aged spellcaster realized that an entire world had opened up to him. Up until now, his skills had served him adequately at best-lengthening his lifespan and blurring the memories of those around him when necessary. Now, he could take his place as a true sorcerer, one who did not have to worry about the Seeker talismans that Counselor Quorin wore upon his person to keep him safe from magical assault by outside foes. He, Drayfitt, would guide the king to a more reasonable course of action, make Talak truly a city guiding the Dragonrealm to peace.
“I hope you will excuse the intrusion,” a mockingly polite voice asked quietly.
Drayfitt spun around, all his newfound strength at the forefront for this sudden attack. He knew whom he faced-even though he had not expected to actually see the other’s visage.
“Yes, I am Shade.” The hooded warlock bowed in what seemed a perfect imitation of the fire elemental’s bow. He had something unidentifiable in each hand. For some reason, Drayfitt’s stomach churned uneasily.
“I bring you-offerings.” Shade threw the two objects to the ground. As they landed, legs and tails formed. Two very large and very nasty scorpions trundled toward one another, preparing to lock with one another in battle.
“They were partners in crime once. Sent by someone who would see you dead. Poison was to be their weapon, poison in your food this very night. Enough to kill a dragon.”
Drayfitt turned pale. The scorpions sparred with their claws, their wicked tails waiting for some opening.
“I thought it only appropriate that they suffer justice akin to their crime. Don’t you agree?” The expression on Shade’s face-Drayfitt still marvelled over the fact that there was a face-was one of indifference. He might have been watching a leaf blown along by a gust of wind.
As if released from some spell, the two scorpions attacked in earnest now. Claws tore at legs. The tails darted forward and snapped back as if some mad puppeteer were controlling them. One creature succeeded in tearing a leg from his adversary. Overconfident, he was almost struck in the head by the wounded one’s stinger. As it was, the near disaster put him off guard and his opponent, dripping ichor where the leg had been lost, forced him back.
Drayfitt looked from the scorpions to the warlock. Shade noted his emotions and snapped his fingers at the two duelists. Both backed away just far enough to separate themselves from one another, their stingers tensed.
Shade lowered his hand. The scorpions struck one another on the head again and again, piercing each other’s brain. They continued to strike one another long after each should have been dead from the physical damage alone.
“Enough,” the hooded figure commanded.
Two lifeless husks dropped to the ground. They decayed rapidly and within seconds there was no trace of either.
Summoning his courage, Drayfitt glared at the intruder. “Why have you come here? What was that damnable display supposed to prove?”
“Prove? They were going to kill you on Counselor Quorin’s command.”
“What?” Even having expected the answer to his second question, it was unsettling to actually hear it. “You could have left them alive rather than torture them so! This would’ve been what I needed to rid the king of that feline’s poisonous words!”
“I wouldn’t worry about your king. I think he’s due to be toppled tomorrow.” Shade scratched his chin. “Yes, tomorrow is correct.”
“What sort of mad game are you playing?” Drayfitt readied himself. How his newfound strength would hold against the power of the eldest, most skilled spellcaster alive was difficult to say. Not very well, he supposed after a moment’s consideration. “If you planned on killing me, why not simply have those two poor souls do the work for you?”
“Kill you?” The warlock looked openly startled. “I have no desire to kill you. Just give me what I want and I’ll erase your memories of this night. Simple as that.”
“Erase my memories? After you tell me my king is in danger?”
“He’ll be toppled whether you know or not. Besides, I made a pact and I will abide by it. Be reasonable. I just want a piece of your mind.” The ends of Shade’s mouth tilted upward and he stretched out a hand toward the elderly sorcerer. Drayfitt found that Shade’s sense of humor escaped him.
Where are the sentries? he suddenly wondered. Shade was talking loud enough for anyone within the general area to hear him, yet no one had come to investigate. And I didn’t even notice the spell-whatever it was, Drayfitt concluded. What chance do I have? What choice do I have?
“You will not take memories that are not yours!”
“Ohhh, but they are! My memories, I mean! You studied that book from end to end; I know. Even if you cannot recall its contents consciously, it remains trapped within you. I merely plan to sift through until I find them. You should be reasonable about this.”
As Shade spoke, Drayfitt felt his arms and legs grow heavy. He took a step toward the warlock, thinking ruefully how much this resembled his failure during Darkhorse’s temporary escape. That reminder seemed to give him the impetus he needed. Summoning his strength, he broke the spell the warlock had wound around him with such ease that it left him startled.
Shade did not look too pleased, either. “Do not resist me. You only play the role of mage; I am magic! Give me what is mine and I will leave you be.”
Drayfitt made a circular motion with his left arm. “Anything of such value to you should be kept from you at all costs. I know what you are. I know the destructive effects of Vraad sorcery.”
The sand began to creep up Shade’s legs at a rate that caught the warlock unaware until it was up to his waist. He stopped it there with little more than a frown and sent the granules flying, creating a man-sized dust devil that swarmed over Drayfitt.
The elderly spellcaster dispersed it, but the motion cost him. Shade reached out with one hand and touched Drayfitt on the temple. Drayfitt let out a gurgle and fell to his knees. The warlock cradled his quarry’s head in both hands.
Though physical resistance had failed the old man, Shade found his path no easier now. Drayfitt’s will was stronger than Shade would have imagined it could be. It was almost as if the sorcerer were drawing from some secret reserve. He was actually succeeding in repelling the invasion of his mind.
Stepping up the intensity of his mental assault, the warlock began picking up random, insignificant memories. At first, he was pleased, thinking he had broken through. Then, he realized that Drayfitt had turned him toward a blind alley of sorts and that the other’s resistance was still keeping him out.
Annoyed, Shade ceased holding back his full power.
Drayfitt’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in silent agony. His hands clutched at his attacker’s, but the will behind them was failing.
The memories began flowing like a river newly released from the winter ice. It did not take Shade long to find the ones he had wanted, for, being recent memories, they were clearer, more obvious. There were memories of Darkhorse mixed among them, but the warlock let them dwindle away, seeing no use in them. What could they tell him about the shadow steed that he did not know already?
When at last he had absorbed all he had desired, Shade released Drayfitt’s head. The king’s sorcerer crumpled to the ground, eyes staring sightlessly ahead. Drayfitt breathed, but that was nearly all he could do.
Shade knelt down beside him, putting one hand on the stricken figure’s forehead. There was a mind there, but it was slowly ebbing away. He would be dead within the hour. The warlock generously closed Drayfitt’s eyes. There was no remorse; had Drayfitt not resisted, Shade would not have been forced to take stricter measures. It was as simple as that.