Gathering his strength, the sorcerer concentrated as best he could on the mind of the other. Try again! he demanded. Try again! You must!
Cabe continued to repeat the message over and over, but after the first few times, it was difficult not to lose heart. The trap was designed too well. Despite the power the warlock wielded, he could barely sense what was happening outside. All that Cabe knew, all that he could base his hopes on, was the fact that the other had not yet departed. Yet, if his messages did not reach the other mage, how long before that other would abandon the effort, leaving Cabe to whatever fate the creator of the cage had planned for his intended victim?
Above him, he suddenly sensed new effort on the part of the other mage’s probes. In his joy, Cabe almost forgot what he himself intended to do, but then the thought that this might be his last opportunity to free himself urged the exhausted spellcaster to organize his mind and renew his own attack.
It was impossible to say with any certainty whether his pleas had reached the other, but Cabe did note that the mysterious sorcerer now probed with even more force than in his previous attempts. That was all that the warlock could hope for. He needed his counterpart to make at least as much progress as he had in the last attack. Cabe was not at all certain as to the intensity of his own assault from within. If his own power was not enough . . .
The cage began to crackle once more with wild energy. The warlock quickly pulled away from the wall nearest to him, realizing that the unstable spell might do him harm in ways even the creator had not planned. Cabe held off from attacking, hoping for just a bit more success on the part of his benefactor. He had to do this at the exact moment . . .
He sensed rather than saw the straining of the spell. The weak links were suddenly visible. The warlock still hesitated, searching for the moment of best opportunity.
He found it.
Cabe struck out, unleashing with pinpoint precision the full extent of his remaining power. He sensed the spell caging him weaken further and also noted the increased assault by the outsider. Encouraged, Cabe somehow succeeded in drawing further from his very being. Augmented by the physical sacrifice, his own attack grew unstoppable. The tentacles shivered and the shimmering between them dimmed. The point of connection above his head was pulled to its most taut. The black tentacles sought to keep hold of one another, but the spell had its limits, and against the combined onslaught from both without and within, it could not stand.
The tentacles tore free with a blinding flash. They wiggled madly about, wild snakes in their death throes. Cabe was awash in darkness, and for a moment he feared that he had been permanently blinded by the magical burst. Then, as his eyes adjusted, he saw that it was not the sundering of the spell that had caused him to see such darkness.
Day had become night. Somehow, although snared but a few minutes, Cabe Bedlam had missed the rest of the day.
With a last feeble effort, the tentacles tried to reform. Their power, their very existence, was already too much on the wane, however, and so they merely succeeded in flopping about once more before beginning to shrivel. Cabe eyed them carefully, lest some last trick be played out, but the tentacles continued to shrivel, becoming dried out, emaciated things that finally crumbled. The master warlock watched as even the ash faded. In the end, the only sign that the magical cage had existed at all was a series of small holes around the sorcerer.
He straightened and for the first time saw the one who had helped save his life.
“Are you all right, Cabe?” roared a familiar voice. “By the Void, the one who sought your life will find his own forfeit!”
A shape blacker than the night looked down upon him with glittering, pupilless eyes of ice-blue. Most would have feared what they saw in those eyes, but the warlock knew them well enough that they did not frighten him . . . much, that is.
The eyes belonged to a huge stallion who, despite the rocky ground, moved with silent steps toward the weary mage.
“I don’t . . . don’t think that they were after me! I . . . I think that they . . . they were after you, Darkhorse. . . .”
A devious chuckle escaped the shadow steed, echoing through the night-enshrouded ruins. “And instead they caught themselves a sorcerer!”
“I was looking . . . looking for you! I came here because I know you visit the ruins of Mito Pica on occasion.”
“It is to remind me of the drakes.” The words were said with such loathing that even Darkhorse was startled by the tone. He paused, then in a quieter rumble, added, “It is to remind me that all things pass beyond me. I saw this city built, Cabe.”
It was easy to forget just how old the demon steed was. Darkhorse had even known the Vraad, although he refused to say much about them. Difficult the shadow steed might be to kill, but Darkhorse was very familiar with pain. Much of his knowledge of it had come from being a prisoner of some of the ancient sorcerers.
For lack of anything else reasonable to say, Cabe repeated his earlier words. “I was looking for you.”
Darkhorse appeared to recover his spirits with the change in topic. “Ha! I know all too well! I have spent the last few hours searching for you, my good friend! I arrived at the Manor some hours ago, only to find the Lady Gwen rather anxious as to your own whereabouts. It seems you were due back long before.”
What he saw was true, then. Staring up into the night sky, Cabe shook his head. “As far as I know, it’s only been a few minutes since I was trapped. It wasn’t until I was freed from the cage that day suddenly became night!”
“A pretty ploy! I think you were not supposed to realize how long you had been held a prisoner. I have heard of such spells, cunning things, really!”
“But what purpose would it serve?”
“What purpose?” The shadow steed chuckled. “I’ve no knowledge of that, save that perhaps someone did not wish you to realize that time was slipping away from you.”
Time slipping away. . . . Could someone have wanted Cabe to miss the audience with King Melicard? Why-“No . . . not me. I should have remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“When I was first trapped, I wondered how anyone could have known I was here. I’d already ruled out the idea that this was an old spell left over from the destruction of the city.”
“Of course,” Darkhorse rumbled. “I would have noticed it before this, coming here as often as I do! In fact-wait!” He sniffed the air, for the moment acting much like the animal whose form the eternal had long, long ago taken a fancy to. “I smell something familiar. . . .” Ice-blue orbs flared. “Shade! I smell Shade!”
“Or something like him,” Cabe cut in. “Something Vraadish.”
“No, this is Shade . . . but the trace is so very old.” The shadow steed dug one hoof into the ground, gouging out miniature valleys. “I am reminded of another snare, different in practice but similar in bait. One that I almost stepped into but a day or so ago. . . .”
“A day or so?” The warlock recalled one of his previous destinations. Without preamble, he launched into his experience at that site, specifically the brief trace of magic that had reminded him also of the late, lamented Shade.
When he had concluded, Darkhorse dipped his head in an equine version of a nod. “That was the very same site! That trap was not nearly so well-planned!”
“So someone is trying to capture you.”
“And, as I have already said, trapped you instead! I little like those who presume to complicate my existence, but when they also endanger my friends . . .” The ebony stallion pawed at the ground. His eyes gleamed. The magical forces that were Darkhorse pulsated. “Woe betide them, Cabe! They will find that I am not a very forgiving soul!”
The warlock was thankful that he was not the one responsible. The enemies of Darkhorse took on the role at their own risk. Darkhorse did not forget those who thought to play havoc with him or those he counted his companions. Thinking out loud, Cabe muttered, “I wonder who it could be?”
It was the wro
ng thing to say.
“Who, indeed?” The shadow steed’s laugh was mirthless. “I could think of several. Certain drakes, for instance, or even once the monarch of a particular mountain kingdom. As I said, I do not forget!”
And Kyl wants him at the audience in Talak. . . . Had Gwen told the eternal of the dragon heir’s request? If yes, did Darkhorse intend to be there? If no, how was Cabe to make the request now, with Darkhorse’s suspicions roused? The shadow steed might view both sides at the audience as possible foes; it was clear from past conversations with Darkhorse that he did not trust the emperor-to-be. Kyl was offering an olive branch, but would the shadow steed see it instead as a blade?
“We should return to the Manor,” he finally said, deciding that the change in scenery would only benefit him when he asked the question. Perhaps, with Gwendolyn there to aid him, Cabe could convince his old companion to make the journey to Talak.
“Yes, the Lady Bedlam will be doubly worried if we both do not return.” Darkhorse shook his head, sending his mane flying wildly about. “No, I would not miss it for the world!”
“Miss what?”
The eternal chuckled darkly. “Why Talak, of course! Was that not what you sought me out for? To ask me if I would agree to Prince Kyl’s little plot and appear at the audience between Melicard and himself?”
The startled mage grimaced. “I was afraid to ask if Gwen had said anything. I didn’t know what you might say.”
“Well, you may rest assured, friend Cabe, that I will not miss this little party. Not at all!” That said, the demon steed straightened. “Now, let us be off before the Lady of the Amber decides to go searching for you on her own!”
The image was enough to shake Cabe Bedlam at least momentarily from his ruminations. If there were other traps awaiting Darkhorse, then Gwen might be in danger if they delayed any longer. Then again, something would have to be done to assure that no one else fell prey to whatever traps, if any, remained.
As Darkhorse summoned up the power to transport the two of them back to the Manor, Cabe’s thoughts returned to the shadow steed’s earlier words. Darkhorse looked forward to the meeting between Kyl and Melicard, but not because of any hope for peace in the Dragonrealm. Old suspicions were rising to the forefront, suspicions regrettably based in fact. As well as he had gotten on with the king of Talak for the past few years, neither could forget their initial encounter. Did Darkhorse suspect Melicard of plotting anew? The disfigured ruler of the mountain kingdom could have many reasons for wishing to capture the eternal, including a strike against the new Dragon Emperor.
That he even thought of the possibility of subterfuge on the part of Melicard suddenly dismayed Cabe. It occurred to the warlock then that his companion was not the only one plagued by suspicions. Even he had begun to wonder.
The world faded away as the shadow steed’s spell took hold. As emptiness briefly swirled around him, the sorcerer found himself wishing that his problems would disappear as easily.
IV
Despite all, the day at last came when it was time for the journey to Talak to commence. Putting together the caravan had proved a monumental task, but under the capable direction of Gwendolyn Bedlam, it was at last accomplished. There were more than a dozen wagons, all with the long-unseen banner of the Dragon Emperor fluttering above them, servants of both human and drake origin, and an honor guard large enough to fight a war.
The last had been most worrisome. Cabe understood that the drakes did not wish to arrive at the gates of the mountain kingdom without some show of their might, but the number of drake warriors accompanying the caravan was astounding. Most of them were soldiers of Lord Green, who journeyed with his future emperor, but a few were the grown hatchlings of drakes who had served Kyl’s sire. There were two in particular who stayed close to the heir, a pair of golden warriors who had been brought to the Manor at the same time as the young princess. From the first they had seemed to understand their role as bodyguards, never assuming that they were playmates. It had been amusing at first, watching adolescent warriors doing their best to protect their cousin, but watching them now, Cabe found them only imposing. He had never gotten to know Faras and Ssgayn despite attempts to do so; they did not feel their place was among royalty, which evidently included powerful mages. When with Kyl, who seemed to find them amusing, they were even more silent than Grath. Faras and Ssgayn resembled the elder drakes, but in the dark could have passed for human. Anyone who had seen them fight, however, would not be able to make that mistake. The two fought as only drakes could, with both sword and fang.
Gazing at the army he was to join, Cabe Bedlam began to wish it had been possible after all for Kyl to simply materialize before Melicard and Erini. The caravan was as unwieldy a thing as he had ever ridden with. By themselves the heir’s honor guard would have ridden in orderly enough fashion, but mixed with the wagons and servants, they only added to the tension and confusion. The humans in the caravan were on edge because of their lack of numbers, the drakes because they knew they headed for the domain of a ruler who had openly hunted their kind. The horses distrusted the roving eyes of their draconian counterparts, all flesh eaters, while the riding drakes had to strive to keep up with the better-trained, more intelligent steeds.
“Such a madhouse!”
The warlock gazed down at his wife, who had come up to the side of his own mount. “I hope we can reach Talak by the appointed time. This caravan is about ten times larger than I wanted.”
“But as small as I could manage to make it, what with all of the ‘requirements’ I was given. I hope you’re not angry about my staying behind, Cabe.”
“With the Green Dragon and Darkhorse to accompany us, I doubt that there will be too much trouble. You’ll meet us in Talak, anyway. I wish I had a reason for foregoing this trip.”
“Yes . . .” The emerald-clad witch glanced surreptitiously back at the Manor. Cabe, following her lead, caught sight of Valea, clad in her finest, gazing at the throng below from one of the upper windows. There was no doubt as to who it was she was searching for among the gathered drakes and humans. The warlock had to fight down fatherly fury.
“She’s watched everything from every window,” Gwendolyn continued, as much ill at ease with the situation as her husband. “I’m fairly certain that Kyl has seen her, but whether he has acknowledged her at all, I could not say.”
“I don’t know which would be worse,” Cabe muttered. “I don’t like him playing games with my daughter!”
“Well, this will be the longest that Kyl’s been away from here. I could not let an opportunity like this pass by. Now would be the best time to talk to Valea and see if I can rid her of this nonsense.”
Cabe’s horse began to shift back and forth in growing impatience. The mage regained control over his animal. “I take back what I said. I don’t envy you your task. I think I prefer trying to keep a caravan of anxious drakes and humans together. There are few creatures in the Dragonrealm as stubborn as our Valea! And such an intelligent girl, too.”
“Yes, and unfortunately we both know where she gets it from, do we not?”
Expression innocent, the warlock asked, “Where?”
He was saved from Gwen’s retort by the sudden appearance of Aurim. Their son was being left in charge of much of the Manor, which both pleased and frightened him. Cabe could read these emotions in the way Aurim acted. The younger Bedlam reminded Cabe of what he had been like at that age, not that that was difficult. Physically, there had not been much change in the elder Bedlam. Cabe looked only a few years older than he had been when first thrust into sorcery.
“Is there anything amiss, Aurim?” the young warlock’s mother asked.
“Nothing, Mother. Just came to wish Father well.”
“Don’t forget that your mother will be departing in a few days.” Cabe studied his son carefully. “Try to familiarize yourself with everything before that so that if you have any questions, she can answer them.”
“I�
�ve only lived here my entire life, Father!”
“It’s different when you have to manage this place,” Gwen reminded her eldest. “We have an entire community here.”
Aurim nodded, still a bit put out by what he thought was a lack of faith on his parents’ part. Noting that, Cabe did his best to reconcile things. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. We wouldn’t leave you in charge if we didn’t believe that.”
Neither Cabe nor Gwen added that they were also leaving Benjin Traske behind to keep a watchful eye on the young mage. That had proven to be a much more difficult decision than they had expected, for the scholar had apparently assumed that he would be riding with the caravan. While Cabe had been searching for Darkhorse, the huge man had even confronted the Lady Bedlam about it. It was, so Gwendolyn had said, the first time she had seen Benjin Traske come close to anger. Only when he had heard her out did he suddenly calm. The Bedlams had always understood the protective attitude Traske had toward his charges, but they had never realized its extent until then. Knowing that Darkhorse and the Green Dragon were to accompany the heir to Talak had evidently helped much to ease the tutor’s mind.
What would we have done without Benjin Traske all these years? Cabe pondered. It was chiefly because of the tutor that the first elements of the school of magic, located in Penacles, were finally coming together. The man was an exceptional organizer, and although he was not himself a mage of any strength, Traske understood the underlying theories about magic, especially after so many years with the Bedlams. His aid continued to prove invaluable. Cabe supposed that it was because teaching was teaching, no matter what the subject. A good scholar could turn his skills to almost any topic.
Gwen suddenly glanced past her husband. “Lord Green approaches. I think the caravan may be ready to leave.”
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III Page 42
