This is not a beast. The eyes were too intelligent, too knowing.
Stretching its wings, the toadbird transformed.
Darkhorse caught only a glimpse of a humanoid shape wrapped in a black, obscuring cloak before the figure faded away. The shadow steed floated over to where it had stood, but there was nothing, not even a magical trace.
He noticed that the field had become deathly silent.
I had better leave. Darkhorse performed a hurried search of those paths he could sense easiest and found a single route that seemed vaguely familiar. The way was a difficult one, but not impossible. It was also the only choice he had. He gathered his strength, then opened the way.
A hooded figure, either the same one or another just like it, materialized in front of him. The general shape was humanoid, but the thing inside the black cloak was definitely not human. A pair of narrow, amber eyes stared back over what seemed a short but toothy maw. One hand was visible, a hand with only three blunt digits.
"I am departing your world, friend! There is no need to be alarmed."
The hooded figure did not respond, but suddenly a second identical creature materialized next to it.
"I mean no harm. I am simply a lost traveler. But a moment more and you shall never see me again."
A third formed on the other side of the first one. Another materialized to the shadow steed's right. In rapid succession, several more appeared, each of them twins of the first. Dark- horse realized that they were forming a circle around him.
The eternal decided to simply depart. However, when he tried to do so, a strong force pulled him back to the ground. He tried once more with no better result.
By this time, the hooded beings completely surrounded him. The first one raised its hidden hand into view, revealing a crystalline sphere. The creature spoke, but the clacking noise it made did not translate. The eternal shook his head. Whether or not the hooded creature comprehended his response, it chose to say nothing more. The crystal, though, remained in view.
"I am no threat to you! Neither have I any worth to you. Release me and you shall be bothered by my presence no more!"
The circle grew tighter as each figure took a single step toward him. The pull on him grew stronger. If they move much closer, the force will be too great to counter . . .
He studied his undesired companions. Raw force would not by itself free him. He needed to put them off-guard, disrupt their concentration. What could he do that would—
The answer came to him. On the surface it seemed absurd, but with creatures such as these, it had the potential. it was also a simple answer and simple answers, he had discovered, were most often the best.
Darkhorse laughed.
The sound shattered the silence in a way his protests had not. Startled, the hooded figures stepped back, clearly less certain of their superiority. They had probably never heard such a loud, raucous noise before.
Taking advantage of their confusion, Darkhorse again tried to depart the foreign realm. Once more he failed, but this time the force combating him proved weaker. The shadow steed scarcely paused before renewing his efforts. His would-be captors had begun to recover from their startlement. Brandishing the sphere high, the leader waved the rest forward. They were slow to obey, but obey they did. Even as Darkhorse pushed to free himself, he felt the pressure increase dramatically.
I will not be denied this time! The eternal flung himself toward the leader of the creatures, who stumbled back so quickly that it lost its footing and fell into the deep grass. The crystalline sphere went flying from its hand.
While the others moved to aid their fallen comrade, one sought after the lost artifact. At the same time, Darkhorse turned back to the path he had opened and leaped toward it.
The same force tried to seize him again, but it was not as strong as the previous attacks. Unfortunately, it did cause him to lose control of the opening and, worse, broke his link to the path itself. The eternal battled free of the spell and desperately tried to reestablish the link in time, but his concentration had been shattered and the best Darkhorse could do was seize for what he hoped was the path he had chosen.
The realm of the hooded creatures and the flying toadbirds faded behind him, but Darkhorse did not have time to revel in his triumph. His haphazard departure left him spinning out of control and unable to leave his quickly chosen route. He had only a short glimpse of a watery world before he passed through to yet another realm without slowing in the least. Darkhorse managed to regain some control of his flight, but the second world vanished before he could even identify it.
He nearly left the third one behind as well. Only with a supreme effort did the eternal keep himself from being flung yet farther along. Finally breaking away, Darkhorse fluttered down to what proved to be gray mountaintops. Snow capped the peaks, but the cold was not a factor. Darkhorse chose the nearest and landed on a ledge.
It was a testament to his weariness that only after a long rest did Darkhorse note his surroundings. At first he could scarcely believe his luck. The eternal rose and surveyed the landscape for some miles around, but he hardly needed visual verification. This world had a familiar scent to it, a very familiar one. Not only had Darkhorse been to this place in the past, but he now knew what path he had to take to find his way back to the Dragonrealm. It was a lengthy trek, but at least a familiar one. If he set a good, steady pace, he would be able to recoup some of his strength by the time he returned home.
Home. Yes, the Dragonrealm was his home, more so than the Void had ever been. He could not allow Yureel to lay waste to his home, not even if it meant that Darkhorse had to sacrifice both of them to save it.
The sooner I depart, the better. There is no telling how much time has passed. The danger of moving from dimension to dimension was that time might pass more quickly in one world than another. It might be that only an hour had passed in the Dragonrealm . or it might be that years had.
Darkhorse rose slowly, shifting shape as he did. He would return to the Dragonrealm in the form in which he was known. In a sense, Darkhorse knew that it was his way of showing himself that Yureel had not crushed his will. The shadow steed was far from beaten; his twin would discover that soon enough.
But do I have the strength to defeat him? The shadow steed had to hope that he would have the strength by the time he confronted his monstrous counterpart. Yureel was his concern and no other's.
Fully restored to his favored form, Darkhorse took one last look at the landscape around him. The cloud-enshrouded mountain peaks could not be called the most attractive sight that he had ever seen, but Darkhorse savored the image nonetheless. It was very possible that this would be the last peaceful sight he would see.
No time for hesitation! Tearing himself away from the view, Darkhorse located his path to home. Yureel awaited him, probably eager to renew contact. Darkhorse did not want to disappoint his brother.
After all, they were family.
Realm after realm, dimension after dimension, the shadow steed passed on, never slowing. Worlds flickered by at an incredible rate. Darkhorse could not remember the way being this long. How many more worlds could there be? How much time had passed in the Dragonrealm in the meantime? The Dagora Forest could be a wasteland, its master slain, perhaps, by Aurim Bedlam himself.
Do not think of that! The lad was strong; in the end, he would resist Yureel. He had to. It was unthinkable that Aurim could become, even unwillingly, a greater terror than his grandfather had ever been.
Yet, Darkhorse knew all too well how strong Yureel's will was.
He passed through another realm with scarcely a glimpse at it, but as the eternal departed, he at last sensed that his final destination was at hand. The world Darkhorse entered next was one very near to the Dragonrealm. Darkhorse had not come this way in some time, but if he was correct, the shadow steed suspected that only one more realm separated him from—
As he crossed into the next realm, a wall of water put a shuddering halt to his
journey. The darkness of the depths welcomed him. It was not always possible to predict exactly where a path between dimensions opened and this one had evidently opened in the midst of a body of water. In fact, as Darkhorse finally slowed his descent, he realized that he had fallen into a sea . . . and a very deep, cold one at that.
Recovering his equilibrium, the eternal darted upward toward the distant surface. Gradually the darkness gave way to the first glimmers of light. Fish swam above him, dispersing wildly as he rose among them. A long, narrow shark nearly as large as Darkhorse studied the ebony form for a moment before evidently deciding that the newcomer was too much to take on.
Darkhorse broke through to the surface and although he did not need to breathe, he inhaled and exhaled deeply once in order to relieve himself of some of the anxiety that had built up within. Then, rising upward until his hooves barely touched the surface, Darkhorse looked around. However, other than water there was nothing in sight.
He was in the middle of nowhere with no immediate sense of direction to guide him, but there was at least one thing that Darkhorse knew. He had returned to the Dragonrealm. Despite his certainty that he had had at least one more realm to cross, Darkhorse had instead plunged his way into the dimension of his adopted home. That he had miscalculated meant nothing to him in the face of such a revelation. Darkhorse was home and that was that.
Which way was home, though? The cloud cover, which hinted at a quickly approaching storm, made it impossible to judge direction by the heavens and the weary traveler's incredible trek had left his mind more addled than he had realized. He should have been able to sense in which direction to travel.
A few minutes of rest. That is all it will take. A few minutes of rest and I shall be able to orient myself
However, even as he thought that, Darkhorse noticed that the sea had already begun to rise and fall with increasing intensity. Darkhorse dodged one wave that threatened to wash over him. The wind picked up. He did not move, though, his attention fixed only on the task at hand.
A column of water burst up behind him. Darkhorse turned, intent on avoiding it, but halted when he saw that the column was only a thin, quickly vanishing skin over something far more imposing. The thing within the column continued to rise higher and higher until it loomed over the weary eternal.
The maw of the creature was large enough to swallow five Darkhorses whole. The eyes were green and glittered of their own accord. From the lower jaw, fleshy strips that gave the appearance of a beard fluttered in the wind. Its skin was a brilliant ocean blue and the scales that covered it were streamlined for swift speeds through the water, an element probably more natural to it than the land upon which it had been born.
"You are Darkhorssse," the sea dragon, a male, burbled, spraying the eternal as he spoke. "We were all told to watch for you, yet I never dreamed that you would come to be in my region. I thought it could not posssibly be true, but I invessstigated regardless. You are Darkhorssse."
A wave roared over the behemoth, but the dragon scarcely noticed it, his concentration completely on Darkhorse. The sea now had a somewhat ghostly look to it, a sure sign that Darkhorse was losing the battle of wills. He concentrated what strength he had left to shifting the eventual destination of the spell to elsewhere. It had to be somewhere the shadow steed could recuperate. Darkhorse could barely hold his own now—and this to a drake.
Where? Where would I be safe? It was impossible to think. He could only hope that his own instincts would preserve him.
With one last effort, he finished altering the dragon's spell. Then, before the beast had the opportunity to realize what had happened, Darkhorse dropped his own defenses and allowed himself to be taken.
The shift struck him hard. Darkhorse fought unconsciousness throughout, but the struggle grew more difficult with each passing moment. He did not even know that he had landed elsewhere until it occurred to him that earth and not water lay beneath him. Through fading senses, the eternal realized that he lay sprawled in a field—but not just any field. If he was correct, he had transported himself to, of all places, Yssa's favored domain.
As if to verify his fears, several stalks of grass bent down and touched him lightly on the head. More of them followed suit even as Darkhorse faded into unconsciousness.
He had journeyed back from far beyond the Dragonrealm, struggled against creatures on a foreign world, battled the will of a huge drake even though greatly exhausted already . . . only to fall helpless into the Barren Lands.
Now he was its prisoner.
Chapter Eighteen
Darkhorse woke to birds singing, the wind gently blowing, and the spreading realization that he felt stronger than he had in many days. He also remembered where he was, a bit of knowledge that destroyed any pleasure at finding himself fully recovered from his long ordeal.
Leaping to his feet, the shadow steed glared at the grass around him . . . only to find that for several yards in each direction it lay limp and, curiously, quite dead. He nosed at some of it, but the blades remained unmoving. Darkhorse probed the area around him and found not one living blade. He estimated that he stood in the center of a circle of devastation whose diameter had to be at least thirty yards, yet outside of the circle the grassland remained as pristine as ever.
What happened here? Darkhorse recalled little of his hurried departure from the sea and nothing that would have caused the destruction around him. If it had been his doing, he regretted it. While the enchanted land made him nervous, Darkhorse did not indiscriminately destroy. The grass had harmed neither him nor his companions. He held no malice against it.
Trotting to the edge of the circle, the eternal eyed the healthy blades. They did not try to reach for him as they had in the past. Curious at this shift in behavior, Darkhorse put one hoof onto the untouched portion of the field.
Blades of grass darted toward his leg. He started to remove it, but the plants were swifter, wrapping quickly around the limb. The wary traveler hesitated, not wanting to further raise the ire of the field. It might be demanding some sort of reparation for the loss of so many. He waited, seeing what the blades would do next.
A tingle ran through him. Darkhorse felt a fresh surge of strength. He felt almost willing to take on Yureel and the entire armed force of Zuu by himself. The sensation spread. He was Darkhorse, after all. What creature in all the Dragonrealm was more powerful, more—
"Insane!" The ebony stallion tugged the leg away, retreating several steps at the same time. The grass around his leg fluttered to the ground, now as lifeless as that under his hooves.
But I did nothing . . . nothing. . . The tingle had died down, but the sense of growing strength did not. He felt nearly invincible. Darkhorse fought down his urge to race off and do battle with Yureel and tried to understand what had happened to make him feel so confident. The sense of growing strength had begun the moment the blades had coiled around his leg, almost as if he had been feeding off their energy.
Feeding off of their energy? But he had done no such thing! It went against his respect for life. Battle was one thing, but he was no murderous creature like his twin. He would never have done something so uncaring, so heartless. The plants had done nothing to harm him. Yet, if Darkhorse had not stolen the life force from the blades of grass, then . . . then that meant that the grass had willingly sacrificed itself for his recovery.
"Impossible . . ." Was it though? How else to explain his rapid recovery? He had witnessed for himself how the grass had reached out and taken hold of him. He had even sensed the power flowing from them. The plants had given their lives.
It must be for Yssa. The land here is fond of her It must know that I . . . that I am her friend. The notion might have seemed outrageous to most, but Darkhorse had long ago come across evidence that the Dragonrealm itself also contained a consciousness of sorts, rumored by scholars to be the last spiritual traces of those who had founded the world. Whether that was the case, he had witnessed enough startling revelations during hi
s lengthy life span to know that his present theory was a possibility.
It might even know that she is in danger. Cautiously, the shadow steed trotted to the edge of the circle again. He felt somewhat foolish for what he was about to attempt, but Dark- horse saw no other way. There was no one creature with which he could specifically speak.
"Hear me, grassland! I know not what force lies behind you, but whether it be the spell that restored a dying land to your present glory or whether another force entirely is to be credited, I thank you for your great sacrifice! No more must be given, though! I am well and ready, thanks to you!"
No breeze blew across the field, but the blades fluttered regardless. Darkhorse blinked, almost willing to swear that the rustling sounded like the name Yssa. That was nonsense, though . . . was it not?
Regardless, he could remain here no longer. Yssa, Aurim, and so many others depended on him and even if he failed in the end, Darkhorse at least had to try.
"I will do what I can for your friend and mine," he added, not wanting to chance offending the grassy region if it had spoken to him. "I must go now. Thank you."
The blades rustled again, but this time he made out no reply. Dipping his head once in gratitude, the shadow steed backed to the very center of the circle, then focused. There was only one person who might be able to help him. The Gryphon. He hoped nothing had happened to the king of Penacles during his absence. Yureel had to know that the Gryphon was a threat, which meant that like the Bedlams, the lionbird might be in danger, if not already a victim.
I can but hope. With one last glance at the rustling blades, Darkhorse concentrated on the throne room in the palace of Penacles. The Gryphon would help him.
A moment later, though, he found himself not inside the palace, but rather outside the gates of the city proper. The shadow steed probed and found that the defenses around Penacles had been greatly strengthened, enough so that Dark horse doubted he could have penetrated them even at his best. The eternal sought to contact the Gryphon. Surely the king would grant him entrance once he knew who it was.
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04 Page 65
