"I would prefer to keep Azran Bedlam out of this conversation just as I suspect your parents would. If this notion is at all influenced by your grandfather's foul memory, then it is a notion best dropped!" Even Cabe rarely mentioned his father. Azran would forever be a bloody stain on the Bedlam name.
"No, I just used him as an example." Aurim shuddered. "I would never want to be like my grandfather. You can see what I mean, though, don't you? If I could just spend some time on my own, maybe visit Gordag-Ai in the northwest or Irillian By the Sea, I might gain the confidence and will I need to set myself straight."
Darkhorse's quandary grew. He was certain that neither of the lad's parents would agree to something like what Aurim desired, but he himself was almost willing to agree with his companion. Why was it not possible? Gullivan, he knew, had started as a soldier when he had been at least two or three years younger than Aurim was now. What was so dangerous about visiting either of those two kingdoms? Both were relatively safe. Gordag-Ai had always been a peaceful land and since the treaty Irillian and Penacles had come to trade with and respect one another. Surely Cabe and Gwen would see that, too.
They might agree if they knew that I would secretly be keeping an eye on the lad . . .
The door to the inn swung open. Aurim looked up, eyes widening with interest. Darkhorse shifted his gaze to the entrance. A young woman with dark brown hair that flowed down over the back of her bright green cloak looked over the interior as if uncertain that she was in the correct location. Her eyes grew especially round and questioning when they fixed on the black stallion.
"Greetings, my lady!" Gullivan hurried up to the young woman, hands folded together. "Looking for a room or simply a meal? You'll find the finest of both here at Gullivan's!"
"There's . . . do you usually allow your customers to bring their horses into your place of business?"
"Him? My lady, that is not an animal there; that is the legendary Darkhorse, friend and companion to the Bedlam sorcerers and the king of Penacles himself!"
She either did not understand or did not believe him. Dark- horse decided that he had to intervene before the innkeeper lost a customer because of him.
"What he says is true, my lady." The shadow steed paused while the newcomer registered his words. Her expression tightened and her hands trembled, but otherwise she remained calm. Darkhorse was impressed by her reaction; most women of her station—her flowing, colorful clothing indicated that she was the educated daughter of a wealthy merchant from Gordag-Ai—tended to gasp, back away, and possibly even faint in his presence. Others simply fled.
"I've heard. . . you are real, then."
"Some would still say unreal, my lady, but yes, here I stand, in the. . . well, flesh is perhaps not quite the proper word!" He chuckled, in part hoping it would ease the situation.
"You rescued the princess once." She walked toward him, fascinated.
Erini. Before becoming King Melicard of Talak's queen, she had been Princess Erini of Gordag-Ai. He had rescued her, but she had also rescued him. There was a statue of Darkhorse, or at least a statue of what the sculptor believed he looked like, in the royal gardens of Gordag-Ai, a tribute from her parents. He had never journeyed there to see it, although Erini had always insisted he should. "Queen Erini is a good friend of mine."
Her gaze abruptly shifted to Aurim, who had remained speechless so far. "The silver streak in your hair. You're a sorcerer? I've never seen a powerful one."
"I'm . . . I'm Aurim."
"My name is Jenna."
Darkhorse did not have to be human to understand his companion's slow reactions. Cabe Bedlam had reacted much the same during the first days after meeting his future mate. Aurim was fascinated by the young woman. Jenna had large, expressive brown eyes and a small but sloping nose. Her lips were full and her mouth seemed always to be smiling. She was, the shadow steed suspected, very attractive by the standards of any human male.
Perhaps here is a different and possibly safer adventure to take the lad's mind off of his difficulties. Jenna seemed attracted to Aurim as well. Perhaps if the young sorcerer gained more confidence in his dealings with others outside his family, he would gain more confidence—and therefore more focus—concerning his powers. Even if it did not help Aurim in that respect, what was the harm in a little flirtation? The boy needed to enjoy himself.
"Are you a powerful sorcerer?"
"Aurim is the son of Cabe Bedlam!" Darkhorse proudly announced, certain that such news would impress the woman. He saw immediately that he was correct, but for some reason Aurim did not appear to appreciate his aid. "And a fine sorcerer himself, although he, like his parents, has promised to keep their use of power to a minimum while in the city. Most folks are not used to such skills."
"Darkhorse—" Aurim looked even more frustrated. He rose and bowed for Jenna. "Aurim Bedlam, at your service. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"And you, too." Her smile grew wider and as it did, the sorcerer's countenance turned faintly red. Jenna looked around. "My father's stayed here on occasion while he had business and he said that this was a fascinating place, but I never dreamed he was telling the truth about those he met here." Her attention focused on Aurim again. Darkhorse might not have been there for all the interest she now had in him. He was both amused and pleased. "He told me I should try to find a room here. Father thought that I might like it because . . . because I have a little magical skill myself."
The eternal stirred. Although Darkhorse had not actively tried to sense power within her, he generally noticed such, anyway. It was surprising that he had not sensed her presence before she had even entered. However, now that the merchant's daughter had mentioned it, he could sense a trace of power buried deep within her. It was faint and a little peculiar in signature, but each spellcaster seemed to have a unique link to his or her abilities. What was odd was that she did not have any silver in her hair. Human spellcasters always had silver in their hair.
"You're a sorcerer, too?" Aurim's eyes lit up.
"Not a very good one." Jenna reached up and lifted her hat, revealing a tiny lock of silver hair. "Father likes me to keep it hidden." She replaced the hat, then held out her hand toward Aurim. "This is all I know how to do." Jenna stared at her hand. After a moment, it began to gleam. The illumination was not very strong, however. Jenna stared at it for a second or two longer, then blinked. The gleam vanished.
Curiously, Darkhorse noticed that he did not feel any tug of power as he did with other spellcasters. Jenna's skills, he decided, were so meager as to be nearly nonexistent.
"That's very good," Aurim assured her. "Most people can't even do that."
"But I want to do more. I've tried, but this is all I've been able to manage."
"Sorcery can be pretty difficult at times. I know."
The shadow steed watched both of them with growing interest. More and more he was certain that what the younger Bedlam needed most was time with a woman such as this, someone who he could confide in and understand. Humans seemed to need such relationships throughout their lives.
"Aurim." The cross expression with which Cabe's son briefly presented him was sign enough to Darkhorse that his assumptions were correct. "As you are in Gullivan's and in trustworthy company, there are some tasks that your father and the king require of me which I should deal with now. I trust you will return to the palace before nightfall?"
"I will."
"Then I shall bid you both fond farewell! A pleasure to meet you, Jenna! I hope to see you again soon!"
"Oh, I think you will." She smiled at Darkhorse, as if sharing some jest of which only she was fully aware.
Both of the young humans seemed to appreciate his departure. The shadowy stallion glanced at Gullivan. "Good day to you, innkeeper! My gratitude for your tolerance of my presence!"
"Come whenever you please, Darkhorse. Come whenever you please."
Darkhorse could not resist doing one more thing. He turned to the two students, who had ceased th
eir attempts to continue their conversation and were now simply watching him, and added, "I trust your studies are going well! I may test you later!"
They both immediately nodded, evidently too dumbfounded to speak. He had no true intention of testing their skills, but he was certain that for some time to come they would study with more passion than they had ever managed in the past.
Darkhorse laughed, then, with everyone watching, vanished from the inn.
He rematerialized in the palace, this time avoiding a location where he might surprise a crowd. The palace library, not to be confused with the legendary magical Libraries of Penacles for which the City of Knowledge had earned its title, was generally utilized only by the Gryphon, his queen, and the Bedlams. Therefore, it was not at all surprising to discover it empty. The king was likely still trying to make amends to Baron Vergoth. What Cabe and Lady Bedlam might be doing, he could not say, but it would be easy to enough to find out.
It was a simple matter to reach out to them. It was something they did all the time, speaking to one another through thought. Only if a spellcaster had reason to shield himself did it prove difficult and for Darkhorse even that was often not a barrier.
Cabe . . .
He felt the first flicker of awareness.
A mind touched his. . . but it was not Cabe's. It was— It was his own?
Darkhorse broke the link he had been trying to forge with Cabe. What had just happened? It had been like touching his own reflection, viewing his own thoughts. He had never experienced such a backlash before, not in all the centuries he had journeyed across this world.
He reached out again, seeking to re-create the effect. There were many defensive spells surrounding both Penacles and the palace and although most of these had been attuned so as not to affect the Gryphon's allies, perhaps a newly set defense had accidentally caused the peculiar reaction.
What the shadow steed got instead was Cabe Bedlam. The sorcerer's mood was anxious. Darkhorse! What happened to you? I felt your presence and then you broke off abruptly! Are you all right?
Jam fine, Cabe. Something . . . it was nothing, simply a curiosity. I will tell you about it some other time. Perhaps you or your grandfather may have come across its like in your research.
Where's Aurim? Is he back in the palace?
Carefully, the ebony stallion explained the situation, playing up Aurim's interest in Jenna and how he thought it would benefit the lad. Cabe countered that it had been Aurim's attempt to impress Vergoth's daughters that had created the initial chaos.
Jenna seems different, Cabe. Besides, Aurim seems to understand that he needs to be careful. I think that he might need to see the outside more, meet those who have no affiliation with either the Manor or the palaces of Penacles or Talak. He has seen little. Besides, he should be safe in Gullivan's.
There was a pause. Maybe. I'll see what Gwen thinks. You're in the palace now, aren't you?
I was going to join you. The Gryphon had said earlier he had need of me.
The need is greater now. We're with him at this moment in his quarters. I should have told you to come directly here rather than waste time talking to you like this. Cabe seemed to grow tenser by the moment. Aurim should be all right. It's probably better that he's enjoying himself for a while. We may be here for quite some time. You'd better join us now.
What is it? What do you mean?
Again Cabe paused, this time for much longer. Just come.
Thought was action. Darkhorse transported himself to the Gryphon's personal quarters. The room was wide, bright, and somewhat reminiscent of the forest: the work of the queen, no doubt. The king was of a more militaristic bent, although he, too, was a lover of beauty. Several shelves lined one wall, shelves filled with books and scrolls. An elaborate writing desk stood nearby. Several paintings and statuettes depicting animals and scenes from nature decorated the rest of the chamber save for one wall where an elaborate tapestry hung. Illustrated on it was a very detailed image of Penacles, an image so intricate that one could have located every individual building. If one stared long enough, it was possible to see the image shift on occasion. Whatever happened to the structure of Penacles was reflected in the tapestry, although that was not its primary function. The tapestry was the only way to reach the magical Libraries of Penacles.
The queen was not there, but the Gryphon and the Bedlams were. There were two other figures near the closed doors, figures that were not in any way human. They were tall, broad, and unless they moved, one would have thought them simply iron statues. They were more than that, however. Both were golems, constructs created by the Gryphon through great effort. When the royal family slept, the golems watched over them. They also made certain that no one attempted to use the tapestry without permission. Two identical creatures waited on the outside of the chamber.
"Darkhorse." The monarch of Penacles nodded to him. In his hand he held a peculiar, avian-shaped artifact. From the manner in which he held it, it was obvious that it was of some great importance. "A timely entrance."
"I am ever timely, Your Majesty! Cabe made his summons sound urgent. What is it? Has it something to do with that constructed bird you hold?"
"This . . . construct . . . arrived only moments after I left you. One of my guards found it and the moment he touched it, he felt compelled to bring it to me." The lionbird turned over the object. Viewed up close, it proved to be an even cruder representation of a bird than Darkhorse had first thought. "As far as I've been able to discern, it flew here but lost control when it passed through the first defensive spells. The compulsion spell activated when the bird was touched."
"A clever mage."
"And there aren't too many of those," Gwen remarked. "Even if there hadn't been a message inside, it would've been pretty obvious from what region it originated."
The eternal's ears pricked up. "Zuu?"
"Zuu," repeated the Gryphon. "The message was sent to me, but it was also addressed to Cabe."
The sorcerer held up a small piece of parchment. "In fact, it's written almost as a personal note to me, although I don't know who it could be from."
"And what is it about?" Darkhorse feared that he already knew.
"According to this, Zuu marched—or rather rode—against one of its small neighbors to the north. The message doesn't say when, but I gather in the last day or two. More important, his forces include his Magical Order."
"He has begun his mad campaign, then?"
"More a testing of his strength, I suspect," the Gryphon interjected. "To see how his forces will do in battle. He will win, of course. The strongest foe he could possibly face is the Baron of Adderly, whose domain lies just north of Zuu's lands."
The shadow steed shook his head. "I have never failed to see the allure of conquering others! It has always looked far too complicated to maintain control afterward!"
"That it is," agreed the monarch of Penacles. "But that won't stop some from continuing to try. Once Lanith tastes a little victory, there'll be no stopping him short of full-scale war." The Gryphon looked up at the huge black stallion. "I have a favor to ask of you . . ."
King Lanith, clad in the traditional leather pants and jerkin of the brave Zuu warrior, pushed his short helm up by the nose guard and watched as his messenger returned at full gallop from the local baron's castle. He had sent what he considered a fair offer with the man. If the defenders surrendered, they would be relieved of all weapons and a small garrison would take over under an officer Lanith trusted. The baron's family would be transported back to Zuu where they would be hostages.
He could see that the offer had been spurned.
In his head, he heard the merry voice. The brave baron insults you! He has the audacity to reject your kind offer. I suppose you'll just have to slaughter everyone inside.
"Be silent, puppet!" Lanith muttered, ignoring glances from one of his officers. "When I want your advice, I'll ask for it!" Still, he had a point. Who was this country baron to think that he cou
ld resist an army of horsemen that blanketed the landscape for as far as the eye could see?
The messenger reined his mount to a halt and leaped from its back. Kneeling before his king, he said, "The man refuses to listen. He says that our riders will run their mounts into the ground and our archers will waste all of their arrows, but that we will never breach his defenses. He says that he will outlast us until finally exhaustion, frustration, and hunger send us riding back to our stinking stable of a kingdom."
Although the words were spoken plainly, they created a stirring among Lanith's officers. The horsemen of Zuu were respected warriors throughout the Dragonrealm. They had fought for a variety of causes since their nomadic ancestors had first chosen to settle in Zuu. The king's own brother had led a band that had fought hard to push back the Dragon Emperor's forces at Penacles. Blane had given his life and Lanith always pointed at the late prince as the example by which his soldiers, male and female, should live. There were a few who would have liked to point out that Blane had never believed in conquest, but they had wisely kept silent. However, no warrior of Zuu, whatever his or her feelings concerning the grand crusade, was willing to accept such insults from a country aristocrat.
"He's brought his destruction on himself."
"Do I send in the first wave, then?" asked his second, a graying warrior named Belfour. Like many of the officers but unlike the king, he wore the more protective padded metal vest and arm protectors common these days. In fact, with the exception of Lanith's special guard, the horse people were all better protected than their monarch. Bravery was one thing, but living to fight another day was preferable.
Of course, no one realized that the king was watched over by a hidden defender who would make certain that no weapon touched him. All they would see was that their ruler, self-declared conqueror of the Dragonrealm, was impervious to harm.
The image of a grand charge by his ready hordes enticed Lanith, but his unseen ally suddenly interjected. The walls are strong. There are hidden pitfalls awaiting any of your eager riders who come in from the western side. What the human in the structure claims is also true. He could outlast you.
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04 Page 38
