"Hasss too many concerns of hisss own! It isss either this or defeat."
It went against his better judgment to agree, but Darkhorse had found enough fault in his own judgment recently to make him uncertain. The Green Dragon had fought in wars past; he was certainly a better strategist than the eternal could claim. Besides, what other plan did they have?
"Very well. I agree."
The drake hissed in obvious relief. "Good. I had little hope for sssuccess on my own, being unable to both rescue Yssa and confront the demon. I have officers who can deal with the battle itself, but no one I could trust to aid me on this mission."
Unspoken was the fact that although the Dragon King had a male heir to his throne, he dared not risk him even for Yssa. Drakes with the markings designating them future Dragon Kings were rare and so each of the monarchs kept careful watch over their successors. The Green Dragon's heir would be helping to coordinate defensive efforts from somewhere deep within the cavern system, well away from the battle. It was a curious arrangement at times, especially considering that many Dragon Kings came into power by eliminating their progenitors.
"When do we begin this?"
Again the drake smiled grimly. "Asss they say, `there'sss no time like the presssent,' is there?"
Death. More death. More and more death and not a thing that Aurim could do to stave off the flow. If anything, he was responsible for the rising casualties. The spells that the Order focused through him laid waste to acres of forest and hundreds of defenders. Lanith's warriors suffered losses as they pushed for the Dragon King's stronghold, but that made the matter worse, not better. The defenders had done their utmost to rout the invaders, but against sorcery that left the Green Dragon's own spells wanting, they were helpless.
Another day and we'll be pounding at the lizard's door. His head'll decorate a lance soon after-
Aurim mentally cringed at the thought. Of late, he had found himself thinking such things. Yureel's control had crept deeper into his mind, threatening to soon turn the sorcerer into a loyal, very willing servant to the monster's evil.
General Belfour rode up to him. "Any spellwork?"
"Only the protective shield," Aurim's mouth responded.
"I don't like it. Why the sudden lull? The drake's troops withdrew, too. If it wasn't for the fact that our own need the rest, we'd be after them all the way to the Dragon King's lair. This doesn't bode well."
Thankful for any respite, Aurim Bedlam hardly wanted to question the retreat, but that part of him controlled by Yureel had to ask, "Does the king want us to stir them up? We could create another fire wall."
"The king's in conference," the veteran snapped. To the sorcerer, by now familiar with the older warrior's personality, that meant that Belfour had noticed his monarch talking to himself. None of Lanith's warriors were privy to his relationship with the demon, so to them the horse king had to seem mad. Still, no one dared talk of removing him from the throne. Not only were the warriors of Zuu trapped by their own sense of tradition, but Lanith had proven he wielded great power. "We'll probably have an answer before long."
Aurim snapped to attention, his eyes suddenly darting skyward. The reaction was a combination of both parts of him in response to the sudden sensing of a familiar presence. A study of the clouds revealed nothing, though.
"What is it, spellcaster?"
He struggled with himself, trying not to reveal what he had sensed. Belfour noticed his hesitation and urged his animal nearer. The general looked ready to slap Aurim on the cheek.
Fortunately, or rather unfortunately in Aurim's eyes, the sorcerer lost his struggle to keep his secret. "Darkhorse. He's near . . . or getting near."
"Darkhorse? That beast is back?" Envy and distrust vied within Belfour. He had not made it a secret that he would have dearly loved a steed such as his king had briefly owned. "I'd better alert His Majesty to—"
The earth rumbled nearby, the sudden quake sending the three spellcasters presently on monitoring duty to their knees. Belfour's horse reared in surprise, forcing the general to concentrate his full effort on retaining control. Aurim maintained his footing, but before he could gather his wits, a heavy wind threatened to push him back into the general's anxious mount.
Ahead, a horn abruptly blared, immediately followed by several more.
"They're attacking!" Ponteroy called needlessly from nearby. The other sorcerer had been drinking some of the sickly sweet wine he transported daily from Gordag-Ai. Now he stood, a purple stain spreading across the chest of his otherwise immaculate jacket, and hurriedly began organizing the rest of the Order.
The rumble increased in intensity, spreading both to the north and the south. The magical wind matched it, blowing so hard that some of the weaker sorcerers had to be aided by their fellows. Slowly, they formed a ragged pattern, an empty spot in the middle left for Aurim.
In the midst of it all, he sensed the swiftly approaching presence of Darkhorse. The stallion was heading to the south, beyond the rear of Zuu's lines. Aurim was happy that Dark- horse had survived his haphazard exile, but bitter that now he would have to try to capture the shadow steed again.
Yssa. It was the only answer. Darkhorse had to be heading toward Yssa.
"Don't just stand there, brat!" Ponteroy snarled. "If we don't do something, the drake's attack will force our warriors back and his sorcery will scatter us all over the landscape, too!"
Yureel's conditioning seized hold. Unless contacted directly by the demon, Aurim had to obey the monster's primary dictate. He was to work to counter the enemy's spells, then lead the Magical Order in attempting to destroy the source of the spellwork.
Despite the dread that rose within him every time he joined with the others to spread havoc and death among the horse king's foes, the young spellcaster now felt a shred of hope. Occupied as he was with defending the legions of Zuu, he could not immediately turn and attack his old friend. Yureel would have to face Darkhorse alone, at least for the time being.
Unfortunately, Aurim also knew that the demon had already planned for his twin's inevitable return . . . and this time the puppet master would brook no escapes.
Chapter Nineteen
There! She is there!
Darkhorse focused, opening a path to where Yssa was held prisoner. Despite the Dragon King's plan, he wanted to move in quick and be gone with the enchantress before Yureel even made his appearance. The stallion doubted he would succeed in doing so, but he had to try. He would be better able to concentrate on his foul twin if he did not also have to worry about his friend.
When he materialized a breath later, it was to the consternation of half a dozen guards and the sorceress Saress. The guards, much more used to the sudden shifts of battle, recovered before Saress. Three of them split away and tried to come around to the etemal's back. The others moved forward, spears in the hands of two, the third—a scarred woman—carrying a crimson rope. Darkhorse sensed sorcery present in all the weapons. As he had feared, Yureel had expected him to return.
"Away with all of you!" the shadow steed roared, trying to frighten them off. Beyond the three in front, Saress guarded the entrance to a tent wherein Darkhorse could sense her captive. Darkhorse contemplated leaping over the heads of the trio and charging Lanith's witch, but he suspected that Yureel had kept that notion in mind as well.
The three who had moved around him also carried spears, weapons that they seemed quite willing to use despite the reputation the shadow steed had for dealing with his adversaries. Darkhorse twisted around as no mortal horse could have and reared at the nearest guard. The man stood his ground and jabbed with the spear, managing to prick the shadow steed's right foreleg. A shock briefly jolted Darkhorse, who immediately retreated a step.
He heard the swish of the rope, caught a brief glance of it as it circled his head, then felt the noose settle around his neck. Darkhorse started to retract his head, but the moment the noose tightened, he lost control of his shapeshifting abilities.
&
nbsp; "I've got him!" cried the woman.
So she did, but roping Darkhorse and keeping him under control were two different things. He sensed the same spell that Aurim had cast on the saddle and bridle, but thanks to the sacrifice of the enchanted grass, the eternal now had the strength to defy it. He reared, something the guard had not expected him to be able to do, and pulled his would-be captor forward. The moment she was near enough, Darkhorse kicked her soundly, sending the stunned warrior flying back into one of her companions.
Seeing his two companions collapse was enough to make the remaining sentry before Darkhorse lose much of his confidence in his sorcerous weapon. He started to back toward the tent.
"Get back up there, you fool!" shouted Saress, but she made no move to back the guard up.
The other warriors were not so reluctant. Another shock coursed through Darkhorse as the trio attacked. Deciding to risk further pain, the shadow steed kicked with his rear legs. Another shock briefly assailed him, but the agony was worth it in the end, for Darkhorse managed to stun one guard and knock loose the weapon from another. The third met the shadow steed's gaze and, after staring into the inhuman orbs for but a moment, dropped his weapon and fled.
Darkhorse had no more time to waste on them. The shadow steed reared, then planted both front hooves hard in the soil. The earth cracked, the tremor nearly upsetting the balance of the warriors around him. At the same time, Darkhorse created around himself a bright green aura that crackled like lightning. "Flee before I devour you, you insignificant little worms!"
Dropping their weapons, the remaining guards fled, leaving only Saress.
Shrugging off the noose, Darkhorse confronted the sorceress. "Step aside, witch, and I may forget that you exist."
She hissed defiantly, but when the eternal took another step toward her, the sorceress quickly vanished. Darkhorse hesitated, then trotted into the tent.
Yssa stood there, arms and legs stretched outward. Thin, silky strands circled her wrists and ankles, keeping her from moving, but otherwise she looked untouched. Even Yureel knew the value of a healthy captive, it seemed. Darkhorse probed the strands, which ended in midair, and found his twin's taint on them. Disgusted, he quickly disposed of the magical bonds.
"Come with me, quickly, Yssa! Before Yureel arrives!"
She tried to say something as she approached, but no sound escaped her. The eternal detected a spell similar to the one Aurim had used to keep him silent. Annoyed that he had not noticed it earlier, the shadow steed removed it, too.
"Darkhorse! You shouldn't have come here! He's expecting you to—"
The horribly familiar giggle floated through the tent, seeming to surround the pair. Darkhorse's eyes narrowed. Even now he could not sense Yureel. The malevolent puppet had worked hard to shield himself.
"Too late! Too late, my dear sweet sorceress!" Yureel coalesced in a far corner of the tent. The miniature figure drifted toward them. "I knew that you would eventually return to me no matter where the boy sent you! Ever the hero, my brother, my self? I'd think you'd learn a new game by this time!"
"And so I have!" Using his jaws, Darkhorse seized an unsuspecting Yssa by the arm, pulling her completely off the ground. Before Yureel could react, he had carried the enchantress out of the tent.
A tall, fearsome figure blocked their path from there. "Father!" Yssa gasped.
The drake thrust out one gauntleted hand at them. "Down, demon sssteed! Now!"
Darkhorse did not have to ask why. He could sense Yureel just behind him. Still gripping the Dragon King's daughter by the arm, he fell to the ground.
"No need to grovel, Darkhorse, it won't do you any—well, the lizard king! This is a surprise! My brother must've mentioned me to you, I see! Come to visit your offspring or come to surrender to the inevitable?"
"I've come to sssend you back where you belong, abomination!" The reptilian monarch flipped open the box.
Yureel giggled at the effrontery, no doubt thinking the Dragon King completely mad. The giggle died abruptly, though, as the floating demon's feet began stretching toward the open compartment. Snarling, the malevolent marionette tried to pull away, but his bottom half surged toward the box. Yureel began to look like an uncooked gingerbread man being stretched in two by some insane baker.
"Stop it! I command you to stop it!"
"Command all you like!" hissed the Green Dragon. "Welcome to your new home!"
With each passing moment, Darkhorse expected his twin to pull free, yet the pull of the artifact would not be denied.
"Release me! Release me or I will destroy you!" Yureel twisted and turned, ice-blue eyes wide with growing comprehension of what fate awaited him if he did not free himself quickly. Unlike Darkhorse, Yureel had never faced the boxes before.
"In, demon!" The Dragon gasped; Yureel was clearly stronger than he had expected.
There was nothing Darkhorse could do to help. If he interfered, he might find himself caught in the very same trap along with his twin. Worse, he might even accidentally free Yureel instead of assuring his imprisonment.
"You . . . will. . . stop!" Rocks burst from the ground and pelted the Green Dragon, but the attack was weak. Yureel dared not focus too much of his power on the drake; he needed everything to combat the tenacious pull of the Vraad box.
It was now only a matter of seconds.
The struggling figure stretched thinner and thinner as more of him seeped into the box. Yureel grew so sheer that it was possible to see through him. He grasped at the sky, as if trying to gain some handhold on the distant clouds.
Then, with one long howl of anger, the last of the shadow puppet vanished into the artifact.
The drake immediately shut the lid.
"Do you really have him, Father?"
"If you could feel how the box shakesss in my hand you wouldn't asssk such a question, my daughter."
Darkhorse glanced quickly around. Saress had to have warned King Lanith by now, and while by himself the lord of Zuu was little threat, he still had the power to command the sorcerers. Until the Dragon King disposed of the cursed box and its doubly cursed contents, Aurim remained a slave to Yureel. Their victory could still turn into disaster if Cabe's son gathered the Order and confronted them. "Dispose of the box, now, Dragon King! We do not have much time remaining to us."
"I . . . am. . . trying!" The Green Dragon clutched the artifact with both hands, as if trying to squeeze it out of existence. "It is . . . resisting my attempts to cast it out of our world."
Even without the use of a probe, Darkhorse could sense the tremendous force with which Yureel sought to free himself of the Vraad device. For the first time, the eternal wondered if the ancient box would hold out against the might of his vile counterpart. Perhaps time had taken a toll on the Vraad artifact after all.
"Darkhorssse, I think it may require both of usss—"
Whatever else the Dragon King said, the eternal did not hear. Sorcery was at play around them, familiar sorcery.
"I think you've got something that belongs to me, lizard."
The horse king suddenly confronted them, but he was hardly alone. Not only did a now-smiling Saress lean on his shoulder, but Aurim, the oily Ponteroy, and two other sorcerers flanked the pair. The younger Bedlam still stared at Darkhorse as if recognizing him only as an enemy of his master.
"Keep back, vasssal, unless you'd care to lossse your precious ally!"
Lanith's expression shifted to mild confusion. "I'm talking about your dear, sweet daughter, lizard. She's my special guest and I'm here to see that she'll stay that way. Come here, woman."
Before the Dragon King could retort, Aurim Bedlam interjected, "He has Yureel in that box, Your Majesty. That's what he meant."
"Does he? That box?" Fascination and indignation clashed as the horse king squinted at the artifact. "Now that's clever." He extended a hand. "Give it to me and I'll at least let your half-breed child live, lizard. Oh . . . and your death'll be relatively quick and painless, I suppose.
"
"Are you not leaving your warriors and your remaining spellcasters to face a storm of death, Your Majesty?" Darkhorse asked, trying to shake King Lanith's confidence a little. "They might be wondering where you are even now."
"My people are dedicated to me. They're warriors of Zuu, horse. The finest in the land and willing to prove it to any who disbelieve. If it costs some of them their lives, so be it. In the end, Dagora will be mine. After that, Gordag-Ai, then probably Talak."
"You fool!" The drake lord hissed, struggling more and more with the box. "Even with your spellcastersss you will eventually lossse! Can't you sssee that the demon isss playing you like a puppet?"
It was the wrong thing to say. The horse king pointed at the box. "Take it from him, Aurim. Feel free to hurt him while you do it."
But at that moment the Vraad artifact suddenly blazed with light. The Green Dragon snapped one gauntleted hand away, the palm already a fiery red. However, he refused to release the box, though his other hand must be suffering terrible pain.
Yssa started toward her father, but Darkhorse used his power to drag her back, knowing it was already too late to help the Dragon King. There was nothing either of them could do.
The box exploded.
The explosion hurtled the Green Dragon back toward the tent, whether dead or not, Darkhorse had no time to discover. A pitch-black cloud rose above the cracked remnants of the foul device, a cloud with icy blue eyes. It surveyed those assembled, at last fixing its murderous glare on the scorched form of the drake.
"I'll burn him, I'll tear his limbs off one at a time, I'll spread his body across every land in the continent!" Yureel reshaped himself, but now he was larger, less cohesive. "I'll kill him, then kill him again!"
Focused as he was on Yureel's horrific return, Darkhorse forgot about Yssa until it was too late. The blond enchantress suddenly darted away from her companion, trying to reach her father.
"Yes, yes, yes!" Yureel ranted, eyes glittering in swelling anticipation. "You'll do even better, dear one! I hope your father survives long enough to hear your cries!"
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04 Page 67
