Guards came to attention as the Gryphon passed through the hall. At last they reached an open area in the palace where the sun could shine through onto a small inner garden. Benches circled the garden. To one side, a small pool populated with a few golden fish added to the feel of nature.
"I never know how to end audiences," grumbled the monarch of Penacles. "I never did. Toos was always more at home with the trappings of state, even if he was a crusty old soldier like me." The Gryphon looked to the heavens and raised a fist in frustration, a maimed fist missing two fingers. "You should've remained ruler, Toos, not me."
Toos had been an invaluable comrade and friend to his former commander, and Darkhorse, who had lost his share of friends, sympathized with the Gryphon. He turned his gaze toward the Bedlams, unable to keep from wondering what he would do when they, like all the others he had known, would fade into the past.
"I'm sorry." The Gryphon shook his head as if to clear it. "I think I would rather face the hordes of a Dragon King than sit on the throne, but the people refuse to see that others would be better fit to reign. They won't even let me very far out of their sight for fear I'll go running off to fight in some far-off war again."
"Troia might have something to say about that, too," remarked Lady Gwen. "Especially now that you have a child to raise."
Life and death, thought the shadow steed. Everything always comes down to life and death. Darkhorse could die, but he had lived so long that such a concept always seemed distant to him. However, such was not the case for his companions. Besides his old comrade, the Gryphon had also lost someone even dearer to him . . . his son. The lad had died in that same far-off war that the king had just spoken of. Of course, if the Gryphon had not journeyed across the sea to fight the wolf raiders, then he would have never met his mate, the cat-woman Troia, in the first place.
Life and death. It was a never-ending circle, the one villain Darkhorse could not defeat.
Which was why he sought other, more earthly foes. At least he could achieve some sense of satisfaction from overrunning a drake war party or barreling into a flock of arrogant Seekers. "My Lord Gryphon! You mentioned something else you wanted of me! What might that be?"
"It can wait a moment, Darkhorse," interrupted Cabe. "There is something we need to finish discussing with the Gryphon."
"Which is why I decided to bring us here instead of remaining in the court. The fewer ears the better, my friends." The lionbird glanced at his companions. "But my manners are slipping. Please, be seated."
Darkhorse noted the tension mounting in their host. Whatever topic he had missed because of his late arrival greatly disturbed the monarch.
"I've forgotten if you answered me earlier, Cabe. How many does that make?"
"Three. Two might have been coincidence, but the third one makes it all too clear that someone is hard at work here. The last was named Ilster. Fairly promising younger man."
"They've all been younger men," Gwen commented.
"And what do you mean by that, milady?"
She frowned. "Nothing. Just an observation. It might mean something more, but I can't be certain."
Darkhorse had to break in again. "Would it be possible for someone to clarify what is happening? I gather from what I hear that this has something to do with the school for mages?"
"That's right." Cabe's expression was a mixture of worry and puzzlement. "Three of our students have vanished over the past few months. No trace whatsoever."
"Three? They did not just simply give up their attempts and go home?"
"We thought of that, Darkhorse, but no one has seen them. If they left, then they didn't head for their homes."
"Aah! Then that leaves only one place where they could possibly be! They have gone to . . . Zuu!" Darkhorse uttered the name of the southwestern kingdom with the expectation of surprising his companions with his quick thought, but his pleasure faded as he saw that his announcement was far from a shock to them. "You know that, then . . ."
"It's what we suspect," returned the Gryphon. "There is a difference, my ebony friend."
"Well, then, we simply have to go there and find out!" Darkhorse backed up to give himself some room. "Come, Cabe! You and I will ride there now and be back with them before King Lanith can even blink!"
The Gryphon bristled. "With all due respect and for the sake of peace between Penacles and Zuu—at least for the moment—I'd prefer we handle things a little differently. This calls for treading a little more carefully, if you don't mind, Darkhorse."
"Are you suggesting that I cannot be delicate, my Lord Gryphon?" He looked from the monarch to the spellcasters, read their answer in their expressions, then dipped his head. "Well, perhaps you have a point."
"Zuu has been building up its strength for years, Gryphon," remarked Cabe. "Especially where mages are concerned. These disappearances have to be related to that."
"I agree, but we need proof. I have agents at work on it now. I'd prefer to hear what they've discovered before we move against Zuu. I—"
The clatter of metal made the entire group look around. A guard raced down the hall toward them, his face pale.
"Your Majesty, my pardon! Lord and Lady Bedlam! Your son! He's—"
"Aurim!" Gwen was on her feet. "What is it? Has something happened to him?"
The guard paused to catch his breath. "Not . . . not to him, my lady! He was showing . . . you just have to come, my lady!"
Cabe held on to his wife. "His sorcery. He was using sorcery again, Gwen."
"Where is he?" demanded the Gryphon.
"Your practice field, Your Majesty."
"Not far. Everyone with me."
With the Gryphon and the guard in the lead, the band hurried through the palace. Although the royal guard had a vast practice field by their quarters, years ago the king had usurped part of the royal gardens for a walled practice yard specifically designed to test his own unique abilities. Most humans would have found themselves hard-pressed to successfully navigate some of the features the Gryphon had added over time. To him, practice did not just concern swordplay; it also involved gymnastics and problem solving.
Just moments before they would have reached the field, a scream reached them.
"Is there someone with him?" the Gryphon snapped.
"He was with the daughters of Baron Vergoth of Talak." Vergoth was one of King Melicard's chief advisers and often played ambassador to Penacles. He had been good friends with Toos and also got along well with the Gryphon. Vergoth had many children, and Darkhorse vaguely recalled that two of the daughters were only a few years younger than Aurim Bedlam.
"I suspect that he was trying to show off." Cabe shook his head. "Not again."
No one else had an opportunity to comment, for they were suddenly standing outside facing the Gryphon's private field. It was a living nightmare.
The ground rose and fell as if something huge were trying to punch its way to the surface. A series of poles, originally set up for gymnastics, popped up and down at random, rising at times with such force that they surely would have badly injured anyone who happened to be standing too near. Climbing bars set in one wall seemed to believe that they were snakes, to coil around whatever object was within reach.
At various points around the field, weapons darted about of their own accord. One long blade buried deep into one of the poles was attempting to pull itself free.
"Animation," Gwen whispered. "He should know better than to try animation."
In the center of the chaos huddled three frightened figures. The daughters of the visiting baron—pale, tiny women clad in wide gowns—clung to Aurim's side. Aurim Bedlam was a golden-haired youth who might have escaped the pages of an epic tale, so physically did he resemble the handsome, noble heroes of such stories. At the moment, however, the younger Bedlam did not act the part of the epic hero, his face almost as terror-filled as those of his companions.
A pole shot up from the ground. It was close enough to strike one of the female
s a hard blow on the arm, but at the last moment, the pole bent away. Despite his fear, Aurim had at least put together a protective shield, albeit one that did not allow for much movement.
"They're all right." Lady Bedlam breathed a sigh of relief. Darkhorse knew that she had not only feared for her son, but for anyone near him. Although Aurim's difficulty with sorcery extended back to when he had been a small child, there had been surprisingly few injuries and none of those serious. Still, considering the lad's great potential, Darkhorse and the others still feared that one day the unthinkable would happen.
"He is not without some control of his abilities," the shadow steed offered, trying his best to soothe the Bedlams' worries.
Cabe stepped forward, arms outstretched. Darkhorse felt him summon up power. The sorcerer stood motionless for several seconds, then frowned. "I can't put a halt to it."
"Let me try." The Gryphon's eyes narrowed. Again, Dark- horse felt power build up . . . then nothing.
"It's Aurim," decided Cabe Bedlam. "He might not have complete control of his abilities, but that doesn't make him any less powerful." The sorcerer studied the mad scene. "I'll have to go in and get them out before we can put a stop to his spellwork. He can tell us what he did."
"I'll do it, Cabe. This is my practice field and although it's a little more lively than even I prefer, I stand a better chance of reaching them."
"Neither of you should go running into there." Lady Bedlam anxiously clenched her fists. "If I thought it was safe to just go in, I'd do it myself. You know that. Aurim's abilities are unpredictable. They're safe so far because he cast both the spell that caused this chaos and the protective one now covering them. Our protective spells might not be so effective in there."
Darkhorse tired of listening to them discuss their options. He understood their fear, but could not fathom why the obvious solution had escaped them. "Never fear, my friends! The answer to your dilemma stands before you! I am not as fragile as you! I will not be bothered by a few enchanted blades or some dancing poles! Allow me!"
Before they could say anything, he had entered the pandemonium. The two females had their faces buried in Aurim's rich red mage's robes, but Aurim saw him immediately. The fear turned to relief and the youth opened his mouth to say something.
One of the serpentine bars wrapped itself around the stallion's neck.
The action was so startling that for a moment Darkhorse could not react. The bar should not have been able to touch him; his will alone should have made him a ghost, a phantom, which the enchanted bar should have passed through. The shadow steed concentrated, willing himself even less substantial, but the thing's hold did not slip.
Darkhorse reared, pulling the bar from the wall. It squirmed around his neck, seeming unable to tighten its hold but unwilling to give up. The stallion moved forward again, but found his hooves sinking into the stone surface. He pulled one loose, but the other three sank deeper. Try as he might, Darkhorse could not make himself light enough or insubstantial enough to completely free his legs.
His power is astonishing. Many had said that Aurim had the potential to be a spellcaster several times stronger than his parents combined. His deficiency had lain in his concentration, not his actual skills. Darkhorse had not understood just how powerful his young friend was until now. Aurim was much stronger than his parents . . . strong enough that this enchanted practice field could injure, possibly even kill, his would-be rescuer.
Darkhorse was an eternal creature, never aging, but he could be destroyed. He had faced death many times for those he considered worthy. Aurim had been the accidental cause of this sinister chaos, but that was certainly not reason enough to abandon both him and the two females.
He surged forward, pulling his hooves free, then burying them again as he moved closer and closer to the trio.
Only at the last minute did he see Aurim pointing frantically behind him. Ignoring the futile movements of the serpentine bar, Darkhorse twisted his neck at an angle all but impossible for a true equine. A buzzing sound passed over him.
An ax buried itself in a wooden pole to his side. It had been aiming for his head and although Darkhorse was fairly certain that it would not have actually harmed him, he was grateful for the human's warning.
At last reaching the three, Darkhorse found that he, like the animated weapons, was unable to pierce the protective barrier. "Aurim! Disperse your shield, then help them mount up! I will protect all of us!"
Aurim closed his eyes and concentrated. Several seconds passed without any discernible change to the shield and Dark- horse began to fear that the three were trapped within. Then, just as he was about to give up hope, he sensed the shield fade away.
To his credit, the young mage moved the moment the defensive spell faded. He dragged both women forward. Darkhorse adjusted his form, growing longer and shorter. Aurim helped both of his companions to mount, then proceeded to do so himself.
A pole burst from the ground, knocking the mage backward. One of Baron Vergoth's daughters shrieked and it was all the magical stallion could do to keep both from falling off. He heard Lady Bedlam call out, but what she said was lost amidst the pandemonium.
Again one of his passengers began to shriek, but Dark- horse, both impatient and anxious, twisted his head completely around and roared, "Be silent!"
Both clamped their mouths shut and stared wide-eyed at their rescuer. Darkhorse turned his attention back to Aurim, not caring at all if the females were now frightened to death of him so long as they stayed put and quiet. Up to now, he had been able to keep his footing, but his luck was certain to fail soon. He had to take hold of Aurim and get them away.
"Darkhorse!" Beside him, seeming to materialize from nowhere, was Cabe. "Take them! I'll get Aurim!"
The ground gave way more and more. A pole shot up just before the shadow steed's muzzle, startling him. He wanted to help Aurim, but arguing would take too long. Darkhorse trusted the master sorcerer to rescue his elder child. If anything went amiss, however, he would come back.
Twisting around, the ebony stallion fought his way back toward the opening where Lady Bedlam and the Gryphon waited. Several others had gathered in the short time since he had entered the enchanted practice field and one of those was Baron Vergoth. The Talakian aristocrat stood poised by the very edge, as if debating whether or not to go charging in after his daughters. Darkhorse knew that he had to escape the field quickly lest the man do such a foolhardy thing. Vergoth already sported two ragged scars on his right cheek; if he entered the practice field while Aurim's spell still held, the baron risked losing his head.
The Gryphon had one hand on Vergoth's shoulder. Gwendolyn Bedlam stood before him, shaking her head and pointing in the general direction of the ebony stallion and his passengers. No doubt she is assuring him that his daughters are safe with me! For some reason, though, the baron did not seem convinced.
The going was still slow. Darkhorse silently cursed as he pulled back before what appeared to be a dancing sword. He did not fear for himself—he rarely did—but human life was precious to him, more so because they lived so few years in the first place. Whether his passengers had been aristocrats or beggars would have made no difference to him; Darkhorse would have protected either with equal effort.
At last he reached the end of the field. The humans parted way for him as he leaped the final few feet and landed silently on the marble floor.
Vergoth retrieved his daughters. The two young women clung to him. "My gratitude, Lord Darkhorse."
"I am lord of no realm, Baron! I am and shall always simply be Darkhorse! No gratitude is necessary! Besides, there are still others in danger—"
"Not any longer." The voice was Cabe's. With him, still very pale, was his son. This near to one another, the two humans looked more like brothers than father and son, but mages aged very slowly. Cabe Bedlam might have seemed only in his mid-twenties, but he was nearly twice that.
"Thank you, Darkhorse. I'm . . . I'm sorry." The l
ast comment appeared to be directed at everyone, not simply the shadow steed.
The baron, his expression neutral, ignored Aurim, instead turning to the Gryphon. "If you will excuse me, Your Majesty, I would like to take my daughters back to their quarters. They are understandably shaken up by this and I am certain that they need to rest."
"By all means, Baron Vergoth. If there's anything you need, please let me know."
"I will." The aristocrat bowed. His children attempted to curtsy, but Vergoth steered them away before they could finish.
"That is going to require some diplomatic work," the Gryphon quietly commented. "I'll have to have some of my best wine sent to his guest quarters . . . along with some of the young women's favorite flowers and treats."
A tremor shook the hall, followed immediately by a loud clatter. Everyone glanced back at the practice field. The flying weapons had dropped to the ground. The poles and bars were motionless. The entire field looked normal once more.
The monarch of Penacles looked relieved. "Thank you, Aurim."
The golden-haired sorcerer looked sheepish. "I didn't do it, Your Majesty. It just . . . stopped."
"Well, I'm sure you tried your best to make it stop."
This only seemed to make Aurim feel worse. Darkhorse knew full well that such statements had flooded the boy's ears for most of his almost twenty years. People were always consoling him over this mistake or that. The eternal could identify with his situation. Despite his great age and power, Darkhorse was often reprimanded for his impetuousness. He did not see things quite in the same way as humans even though he had lived among them for lifetimes. Even now, he did not understand why some of the things he did worried his companions so.
Many of those who had gathered were now drifting away, aware that this situation was one the king would prefer to handle more in private. Darkhorse carefully kept from saying anything, wanting to hear the decision of both the Gryphon and the elder Bedlams before adding his own thoughts. He hoped that they would not be too severe with Aurim. The spellcasters' children were most dear to him.
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04 Page 36
