That lightened the mood. They all knew of the young drake’s near obsession with the pies. It was considered something of a miracle that Grath remained so fit.
The Green Dragon willingly took the peace offering. “That would be quite sssatisssfactory. Perhaps I can alssso use the opportunity to convince the woman to return to my servicesss.”
“You’ll face the full population of the Manor if you try that, including some very adamant youngsters!”
“Then, I shall sssimply have to visit more often.”
“Shall I lead us back now, Master Bedlam?” At mention of the meal, Grath had become animated again. Yet again, Cabe marveled at the transformation the younger drake went through each time he and his brother separated. It was as if there were two Graths.
He almost wished there were. If Kyl were only more like Grath, Cabe knew that he would feel better about the upcoming visits. Yet, it was more likely the drakes would accept someone like Kyl. Grath might just be too human for them. In truth, the warlock knew that despite his misgivings concerning the dragon heir, Kyl was more likely to be able to control the Dragon Kings than his younger sibling.
Now if only someone could control Kyl, the warlock thought, then instantly regretted even considering the notion. That was one of the dangers both he and the Green Dragon feared. Once upon the throne, would Kyl prove to be the emperor that was needed, or would he fall victim to the twisted advice of one or more of the deadlier Dragon Kings?
Cabe belatedly realized Grath was still waiting for an answer to his question. The blue-robed sorcerer waved a hand at his charge, forced on a smile, and said, “Lead on! I’m beginning to feel a bit hungry myself!”
“This way, then, Lord Green. Master Bedlam.”
As they followed the drake, Cabe’s eyes strayed to the empty bench. Gone instantly were considerations concerning dangers to the ascension; instead, the warlock recalled two young folk sitting much too close to one another. The image reminded him that he had a personal reason for seeing Kyl safely through the visitations and the coronation. Kyl in his role as Gold, Dragon Emperor, would be far away, so far, in fact, that he might as well be on one of the moons. Cabe knew that what he wanted was selfish and likely prejudiced, but it was more than what Kyl was that made the master sorcerer desire him far from Valea. It was also who the dragon heir was, meaning the mind behind the exotic countenance. Perhaps it was simply the fear of a concerned parent, but he did not trust whatever intentions the handsome drake might have for his daughter. Telling Valea that, however, would avail him naught. She was just old enough to understand and just young enough not to listen. There were tales, some of them with much credence to back them up, of drakes and humans marrying and raising young. It was possible, according to what Cabe knew. Possible but unthinkable.
Maybe I’m just imagining things. Maybe my own fears are making me see something that isn’t there. Yet, Gwendolyn, too, had expressed such worries. Could they both be imagining it?
This was not the time for personal matters, he told himself. As dear as his family was to him, the fate of the entire realm waited on the outcome of this venture with Kyl and the throne. Whatever was or was not happening between his daughter and the drake had to be secondary.
Cabe hoped he would be able to remember that in the weeks to come.
III
“Well, it took some pressure from both Erini and his daughter, but Melicard has finally agreed to the suggestions made by Kyl.”
Cabe, seated, nodded absently as his wife talked. Normally, Lady Bedlam garnered his full attention, if only because he adored her so. Gwendolyn Bedlam was to him a forest goddess, a fire-tressed creature of the wild. She stood across from him now, a vision in green, her hair with its silver streak rippling nearly to her waist. The emerald riding outfit she wore perfectly accented a stunning figure. Her glittering eyes matched the color of her clothes.
Seeing that she was being all but ignored, the statuesque enchantress walked gracefully toward her husband, finally stationing herself directly before the warlock in an attempt to break him free from whatever spell held his mind.
Cabe looked up. “What is it?”
“Have you tired of me after all these years?”
His brow furrowed.
She knelt by his chair, one hand touching him softly on the arm. “You’re starting to find other things that interest you more than I do.”
He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t be silly. Nothing means more to me than you and the children.” Cabe took the hand and kissed it. “Young or old, beautiful or not, you know I’ll always love you.” A smile briefly touched his face. “I just hope that you’ll always feel the same way.”
“You shouldn’t have to ask.” Her own smile faded a little as she recalled what they had been discussing. “You heard what I said?”
“Melicard’s agreed. It took some doing?”
“For most of it, no. He actually found the suggestion concerning Kyl’s entrance to be reasonable. Where that was concerned, it was simply a matter of discussing it with his advisors. That’s what took three days . . . that, and the more delicate problem of Darkhorse.”
“Darkhorse?”
She nodded. The sunlight that touched her face accented what Cabe considered perfectly sculpted features, a sharp contrast to his own plain face. He was thankful that both children had taken after her. Valea especially would resemble her mother.
“Melicard has grown more reasonable in the past few years where Erini’s relationship with Darkhorse is concerned, but he doesn’t like the notion of the eternal being a part of a state affair. Tensions will be high enough without his unnerving presence, so the king said more times than I care to count.”
“It’s understandable.” Cabe tried to picture Darkhorse among the splendidly dressed courtiers. Both humans and drakes feared the eternal’s power. To most, Darkhorse was part legend, a thing of shadows. It was one reason why the warlock had not been pleased by Kyl’s suggestion. Darkhorse could cause the audience between the two monarchs to collapse simply by being there. “So has he agreed to the presence of Darkhorse or not?”
“He did. Finally. Erini and Lynnette had much to do with that. It’s hard for Melicard to refuse them anything.”
The warlock chuckled. “I think I understand that!”
She rose enough to give him a kiss, then stood. “You’d better understand that!”
He returned her playful smile, but other thoughts turned his expression sober. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now comes the interesting part.”
“You’ve still heard nothing?”
Cabe rose. He looked up at the ceiling, then back at his wife. “Nothing. It’s been three days since I sent out a magical summons to him. Three days and still he hasn’t come.”
“How very odd.” She put a hand to her chin. “Darkhorse is usually very prompt.”
“Unless he’s occupied with something. . . .”
Her expression said it all. “Shade?”
“I’d like to think not. I thought him over that obsession, but . . . I don’t know.”
Shade had been a warlock, possibly in his own way the most powerful that had ever lived. No one knew exactly how old the cloaked and hooded figure had been, but Cabe was certain that Shade could trace his origins back to the Vraad, the ancestral race of men. Shade, he was certain, had been Vraad.
The spell that had made the blur-faced sorcerer nigh immortal had also brought him to the edge of madness. Shade had been cursed to ever be reborn the opposite of what he had been in his previous life. Cabe had first known him as friend, but after the warlock’s death during battle, Shade had returned as the horrific Madrac, one of the many splinter personalities that formed with each new incarnation. It had taken the full might of Darkhorse, who knew the ancient warlock best, to defeat Madrac.
Shade had returned again much later, but this time entirely confused, his personalities shifting back and forth without warning. Darkhorse, ever both friend and
foe, had taken it upon himself to end the travesty, if only for the warlock’s own sake.
Queen Erini, who had become for a time Shade’s pawn, had been there at the end. Shade and Darkhorse had made their peace, and the warlock had given up his own life to prevent a disaster that he himself had been in great part responsible for creating. There and then, it should have been ended.
Darkhorse, however, had not been able to accept such a death. Shade had meant more to him than any of his mortal companions could have known. The gray mage was the only one who, in his own way, could understand the shadow steed, could comprehend the emptiness the leviathan kept buried within. There was no one else in the Dragonrealm like the black stallion, no one who could understand his longings, his fears. Immortal himself, save if killed, it was only natural that he be drawn to Shade.
Because of that, the shadow steed had spent the next several years utilizing much of his time searching for any trace of the vanished warlock. Part of Darkhorse wanted to make certain that Shade was dead, for if he was not, then the Dragonrealm risked great danger. Yet another part of the ebony stallion-and this only a handful knew-hoped that the warlock was alive, that the one creature who understood the loneliness he suffered was still there for him.
The obsession had almost cost Cabe his life. Ashamed, Darkhorse had all but abandoned his futile search . . . yet, there were times when the shadow steed would vanish to places unknown for long periods of time. No one was certain what Darkhorse did during these episodes, but the Bedlams feared that the obsession was growing again.
“What happens if we can’t find him? The audience in Talak is drawing very near. Now that it’s settled that Darkhorse is permitted there, it would seem a bit foolish if he was not at least asked.”
The warlock sighed. “Kyl and Melicard will simply have to be annoyed. No one rules Darkhorse. I told Kyl I would do what I could, but I didn’t promise a miracle. Even if I find Darkhorse, he might choose not to come.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why Kyl felt it so necessary that he be there. I don’t know why Kyl does anything he does. . . .”
His wife came and put her arms around him. They held each other close.
“This isn’t just about Darkhorse,” she whispered. “This is about the same thing we always talk of.”
“We tried to raise him as best we could, Gwen. Look at Grath. Look at our own children. I’m fairly confident about them, although Aurim’s recklessness with magic is probably going to be the end of me soon. What happened to Kyl?”
“He was older, Cabe. He had already begun developing his own personality. We did what we could. Considering who he is, we’ve not done too badly.”
“Did we? Of late, I’ve noticed myself thinking thoughts I’d have found reprehensible in others.”
“Kyl is in great part responsible for that.” The sorceress released him and stepped back. “Believe that. There are drakes here who would admit to it. As a ruler, Kyl may do great things, but as a person, his attitude lacks a certain responsibility.”
They both knew that they were in part thinking of their own daughter, but neither desired to say any more on that subject for now. The two were certain . . . almost . . . that Valea was simply infatuated with Kyl’s exotic appearance. She was too intelligent to think that there could be anything between them . . . they hoped.
Cabe made a cutting motion with his hand. “None of this solves the present problem. I’m going to see if I can find Darkhorse myself. The more I think about it, even if he doesn’t appear in Talak, I want him to know what’s going on. If anyone is planning to disrupt the event or, worse, strike out at the emperor-to-be, it wouldn’t hurt to have Darkhorse nearby.”
She cocked her head to one side and smiled a bit. “You know, I think this is all a ploy! I think you just planned this sudden little excursion so that you can escape the preparations for the journey!”
They both laughed at her joke, all the while aware that it was simply an attempt to lighten Cabe’s ever-darkening mood. “Now why would I want to escape arranging and rearranging Kyl’s caravan? I couldn’t think of anything more entertaining!”
“Then I will go in your place, husband dear!”
“Not likely!” He took her once more into his arms. “If you leave it to me to organize this, we will be ready to depart by some time late next year!”
“Too true. . . .” The sorceress grew quiet, then said, “If you must go searching, you can avoid the region around Talak. I made mention to Erini that she should let us know if Darkhorse appears there.”
“Then that’s one place less. I have some other notions of where he might have run off to. I’m certain there’s nothing to worry about.” He kissed her. “This won’t take long. If Darkhorse is at none of the places I have in mind, I’ll leave him a sign that he won’t fail to recognize. Then it will simply have to be up to him as to whether he answers or not.”
“All this running around sometimes seems so futile, doesn’t it? I shall be glad when Kyl is crowned so that we can at last breathe again.”
Cabe forced his smile to remain where it was. “That’s all I’ve ever asked.”
He kissed his wife once more . . . then was gone.
As the warlock vanished, Lady Bedlam heard a knock on the door. She turned toward it and bid the newcomer to enter.
It was Benjin Traske. The huge, bearded scholar was clad in the colors and garments of his special calling-a gray, cowled cloak with gold trim on the collar and ebony robes beneath. The cowl was presently pushed back, revealing gray hair with a very slight peppering of silver. Like Cabe, Gwen sometimes thought that the tutor resembled more a condemning judge than the scholar he was. She noted also that he still wore a blade on his belt, despite such armament going against his calling. Traske had lost his family in the fall of the city of Mito Pica some years back and had always regretted that he had not had even a knife with which to protect them.
Something about his expression disturbed her. It was nothing that she could put her finger on. He seemed almost pensive, but that was not quite it.
“My pardon, lady. I thought Master Bedlam also here.”
“He has left.”
“I see.” For a breath or two, it seemed the massive figure did not know what to say.
“I am Lady Bedlam, scholar. You can trust me with whatever it is you wished to speak to my husband about.”
His expression became somewhat rueful. “My apologies. I did not mean to infer such . . .”
“What is it you want, Scholar Traske?”
He took a deep breath. “I realize that you have much on your mind and that I would only be further adding to your troubles, but I wish to speak to you about the excursion to Talak. . . .”
This is getting to be a habit!
The wind howled around him. Everything was white, but it was the whiteness of death, the eternal winter. Snow and ice were everywhere. A few misshapen hills, possibly only large snowbanks, dotted the otherwise flat landscape. In the distance, the warlock could see some taller mounds, but he knew it would be a waste of time to go and investigate them. If Darkhorse was not here at the very spot on which Cabe now stood, then he was not in any part of the Northern Wastes.
Snow fluttered around the silent spellcaster but did not alight on him. The same spell that shielded him from the cold also shielded him from the other gifts the inhospitable wasteland offered. Snow that sought perch on him simply faded away.
He had come here because this, of all the places that the eternal frequented, was the most likely spot that Darkhorse would have chosen to return to had his obsession taken root once again. Here, in the emptiness of the Wastes, Shade had perished . . . or so Queen Erini said. She had witnessed it all. Years later, during a quest much like the one he was on now, Cabe had been brought here by the novice sorceress, who had explained to him the relevance of this chilling place. Although he was never certain exactly why he had done so, Cabe Bedlam had imprinted the location on his mind. Perhaps at the time it had simp
ly been because Shade had been a friend to him as well and all he had wanted to do was remember.
Now, however, it was time to move on. Darkhorse was obviously not here, and the magical signature his passing always left behind was very old, perhaps more than a month. The ebony stallion had not been to the Wastes for some time.
Where next? There were any number of locations that Darkhorse, a wanderer, frequented to some extent, but only a few he returned to again and again. Talak was one of the latter, but Gwen had seen to that situation. The Northern Wastes had been . . . a waste. Cabe had no intention of searching too many locations. First of all, chasing after Darkhorse was like chasing after a phantasm. The eternal could be anywhere he chose to be at almost any time. Darkhorse also did not tire as rapidly as a human did. Trying to chase down Darkhorse was pure folly. It was also possible that Darkhorse might journey to the Manor even while Cabe searched the countryside for his old companion. That had happened to the warlock more than once during the first few years of their friendship. He had strived hard ever since the last time to make certain that it never happened again.
There were six locations he thought worthy of searching. After that, the warlock intended to return to his home. If Darkhorse had still not answered his summons by the next day, Cabe would try a few more. If even that search failed . . . he was not certain what he would do then. Cabe only knew that he never abandoned a friend.
With ease, the blue-robed sorcerer transported himself to the next destination on his mental list. His new location gave him a panoramic view of a bowl-shaped valley in the distance, for Cabe presently stood atop a tall jagged hill. Cabe knew the valley, having been to it with Darkhorse in the past. The city of Zuu, from where the horsemen ruled the land of the same name, lay near the center. In the daytime, the city was impossible to see, but night would reveal a sea of light, for Zuu never slept.
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III Page 40
