“Not to my knowledge, your majesty. We’re merely making our rounds. It wouldn’t have been proper to pass without acknowledging our queen-to-be. The captain would’ve had us all on double duty.” Ostlich allowed himself a rueful smile.
Erini granted him a royal smile. “Then, I shall not keep you from your duties. Carry on.”
“Your majesty.”
Bowing, the guard leader returned to his squad and gave the order to resume the patrol. The princess and Drayfitt watched them go, a sardonic smile creeping across the lined visage of the elderly sorcerer.
“How gracious of them. How curious that they purposely changed their route to march by here while you were nearby.”
“Isn’t this their regular route?”
“By no means. Oh, they’ll claim that it was changed only today—if you ask them, that is—but I’ve the distinct advantage of having seen them turn from their normal patrol because one of the other guards reported seeing you in the garden. The chameleon trick has its advantages. I saw the sentry just as you were leaving. He didn’t see me.” Drayfitt smiled, pleased with his own success.
“I wondered why you vanished.”
“Enough of that. Now that we’ve officially met in this hall and you’ve expressed your interest in Talak—an excellent request and good, quick thinking on your part—I think no one will suspect, anymore than usual, that is, that we have anything else in mind. If you will accompany me to my workroom…”
“You are my guide,” Erini answered gracefully. As Drayfitt led her down the hall, already into the beginnings of a lesson on the history of Talak, the princess looked back in the direction of the garden and the door. While she was grateful to Drayfitt for his concern for her well-being, the sorcerer’s actions had not deterred Erini but rather fueled her determination. One way or another, she would return to the garden before long and discover the truth.
DRAYFITT’S WORKROOM WAS not what Erini had expected of a sorcerer. She had pictured a dark, moody place of vials and parchments, bones and the various parts of rare and magical creatures. There should have been ancient tomes on subjects such as necromancy and magical artifacts from civilizations long dead.
“Looks rather like the office of a minor bureaucrat, doesn’t it?”
It was true. A high desk stood in the center of the tidy room, a set of candles and several sheets of parchment on top. There were books, countless books on shelves that ringed the room, but they were neatly stacked and fairly new. Some of them sounded fairly mysterious, but others were on classical plays or theories on government. Erini had not known that so many books on so many subjects even existed.
“Do you like them?” the sorcerer asked a bit wistfully. “I wrote most of them over the years. It’s a shame that most city-states are not like Penacles, where writing and education are paramount. I understand that a few of the copies I made are now a part of the collection gathered first by the Lord Gryphon and now by Toos the Regent. I’ve made certain that at my death, accidental, natural, or otherwise, the Regent will get this collection.”
Erini could not help smiling. “You do not remind me of what I was always told a spellcaster was like.”
“Head bowed over a cauldron, arms waving in insane motions, and sinister, inhuman things waiting at my feet for some command? Some of those things are true, and, if you know the tales of foul Azran Bedlam, those images pale in comparison to what he was like. I was never happy with sorcery. I was quite happy to find myself a little niche in the controlling of Talak and stay there.” The spellcaster’s face darkened. “Counselor Quorin insured that I would never be able to return to that and so I’ve made a special point of making him regret that action ever since.”
A twinge in Erini’s right hand reminded her of why they were here. If Drayfitt could help her or, better yet, find her a way to rid herself of this curse, then she would take advantage of it. As if reading her thoughts, the sorcerer took her hands in his and looked them over.
“Tell me, when you observe the powers around us, do you see the lines and fields?”
She shook her head. “No, I see a rainbow, bright on one end and changing to black at the other.”
“A spectrum. Pity. I see the former, myself. Well, at least you see the powers as something understandable. There are those who see them in radically different ways than we do, though such folk seem to be rare. The lines and the spectrum seem to dominate the minds of most—and before you ask, I have no idea why we see them at all. Some people discover them naturally; some, like myself, need training.” Drayfitt released her hands. “You are a natural adept. With some assistance on my part, you could become very skilled.”
Erini shook her head violently. “No! I want you to help me get rid of this curse, not enhance it!”
“Your majesty, the abilities you have are a part of you, a gift from—from whoever watches over us. It’s the spellcaster who makes those abilities work for good or ill. How else could one family produce both a fiend like Azran Bedlam and good, strong men like his father, Nathan, or his son, Cabe. I understand your feelings. For years, I lived with the memory of my brother, Ishmir the Bird Master—Aaah! I see by your face that you know of him. Ishmir perished in the Turning War with most of the other Dragon Masters and it took me years to forgive him for that.”
“Forgive him? For dying?”
The sorcerer looked chagrined. “He left me, a young man, then, half-trained, uncertain of what I was. I had your qualms, too, but Ishmir saw I had the potential, though it was buried deep. I forgave him eventually, but I kept my powers hidden, utilizing only those that would help me secure a place in Talak’s government and keep me alive—I’m a coward when it comes to death. Since my forced re-education in the world of sorcery—only a short time ago—I’ve learned much about its benefits. If not for my efforts, Counselor Quorin’s influence with the king would be much stronger. That alone I count as a reason to hone my skills.”
Erini turned away, walking over to a shelf and running her fingers along the spines of some of Drayfitt’s books. “It might be different if I were not a member of royalty, Master Drayfitt. Such things are not for us. In the eyes of my people, I would be considered tainted, a demon in human form.”
“I think the only demon is in your own mind, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, your majesty. There have been rulers aplenty who command in part through sorcery. The Lord Gryphon of Penacles is the best example. During his reign, it was his skill more than anything else that kept the Black Dragon at bay. He was even instrumental in the Turning War.”
“The Gryphon was a magical creature, Master Drayfitt. The powers were a part of him.”
The elderly spellcaster chuckled. “He may not like all this talk in past tense; he still lives, they say, but fights some war across the Eastern Seas—hence the title of Penacles’s present ruler, Toos the Regent. That is neither here nor there, however; what I am trying to tell you is that the skill to manipulate the powers is as much a natural part of humanity as it is of the elves, the drakes, and the Seekers. We merely have a greater tendency to stifle those skills. I ought to know.”
Erini slowly turned back to him, an idea forming. “Then, if you cannot help me rid myself of it, teach me how to control it so that I will never find myself ‘accidentally’ unleashing some spell at a courtier who has happened to annoy me. That is what I fear; the powers taking control instead of the other way.”
A relieved sigh. “Thank you, your majesty, for making my task easier. Had you demanded I help you rid yourself of your growing abilities, I would have endeavored to do so, despite the impossibility. After all, you are to be my queen.”
“That still remains questionable, Master Drayfitt.”
“I doubt it. One reason it was so easy for me to leave the king abruptly was because he seemed distant himself, and the look on his face I have only seen when he thinks of you—favorably, that is.”
The information earned the spellcaster one of Erini’s few true smiles. “You
have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”
“I do and it makes me happy to say it. The two of you are well matched. Though it’s only been a few days since you met as adults, I’m not above believing that a bond of love has already developed. There are those who are meant to be together. I—” Drayfitt suddenly paused, his eyes darting about the room.
“What is it?” Erini asked in hushed tones. To her horror, the sorcerer raised a hand toward her. She felt both the pull as he unleashed some powerful spell and her own instinctive response as she prepared to defend herself.
“Not you!” Drayfitt muttered at her. “Remain where you are!”
She froze in place. Behind her, the princess heard the thump of books falling from the shelves and—the patter of tiny feet? Something quick was running along the shelves, seeking a place it could hide from the spellcaster’s attack. It might as well have been running from time itself.
Erini heard a tiny squeak, then Drayfitt’s curse as something the old man had evidently not expected happened. A moment later, he lowered his arm, a look of disgust and worry on his face. He rose from the table toward the spot where the intruder had evidently met its fate.
Standing, the princess joined him. There was a strange odor emanating from the shelves and she sensed the remnants of some odd, disturbing sort of magic, something she had sensed briefly before. There was no sign of any creature.
“What was it? Did you destroy it?”
Abandoning his brief search, Drayfitt began picking up and reshelving his books. “As to what it was, I can only describe it as a little monstrosity obviously created to spy on others.” He looked at Erini. “It’s head and body were no more than an eye and a snout. A creature of magic. As to destroying it, that was not my intention. The creature destroyed itself. I wanted it alive—if it truly was—so that I could track it to its source, which is probably Quorin.”
“He has no magic.”
“Yes, you can tell that, can’t you? Probably better than I. The only reason I noticed our spy was because this workroom is laced with spells sensitive to unwanted visitors. Here, of all places, I am most secure.”
Erini hesitated before finally admitting, “I’ve felt something similar to that creature. The same sort of magic, different from you or me.”
“What? When?”
“In my—my chambers. I was looking in the mirror when I saw him. When I turned around, there was nobody there. I thought I’d imagined him, but there was dirt on the floor where he had stood and—and when I touched it, the strangeness of it startled me so much I fell back.”
Drayfitt’s eyes narrowed and he scratched his head in thought. “Can you describe him, milady?”
“Not well. He wore a cloak and hood like you do, only they seemed older, out of style.” The princess closed her eyes and tried to picture the dark figure. “All his clothing seemed a bit archaic.”
“We are not always known for our sense of style. Forget his clothing, then. What did he look like? I may know his face if you describe it well.”
She looked flustered. “I cannot help you there, Master Drayfitt. I was not able to get a good look at his face. My eyes must have been watery, because, no matter how I looked, it remained shadowy or blurry.”
“His face was unclear but you could see that his clothing was old, archaic?”
“Yes, strange, isn’t it? I remember them clearly enough, but not his visage. I think he had dark hair, perhaps brown, with a streak of silver.”
“But his face you can’t remember.” The sorcerer pursed his lips in mounting frustration. “I wish—I truly wish, milady—that you could have given me a face to go by.”
Erini could sense his worry. “Why? Who was it? Is it whoever you hide down below? Did he escape?”
Drayfitt gave her a dumbfounded look. “Soooo… you know about that, too. This gets worse and worse.” He looked up at the ceiling, staring at something beyond it with eyes filled with dismay. “Aaaah, Ishmir! Would that you were here instead of me!”
“What is wrong, sorcerer?”
He went to the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a bottle caked in the dust of ages. Without asking whether the princess desired any, Drayfitt poured himself a goblet of what must have been wine and practically swallowed it in one gulp. Eyeing the shelves of books, he finally replied, “The one you described can only be the warlock Shade, who can only be here for two reasons; the first of which is caged deep below in a chamber forgotten until recently. Another creature of legend, a shadowy steed called Darkhorse.”
“Darkhorse?” While everyone knew one tale or another concerning the tragic existence of Shade, forever cursed to live alternating incarnations of good or evil, it was the demon known as Darkhorse that had fascinated the princess more. Here was a magical creature from elsewhere, immortal, and the terror of drakes. Some stories made him as tragic as the warlock and there were many who feared him as much, but the image of a great stallion, blacker than a starless night, had captivated her. She had even dreamed, now and then, of riding through the darkness on his back.
A legend and a reality were two different things. The thought of riding whatever Drayfitt had imprisoned down below made her shiver—and not in anticipation.
“Darkhorse.” The sorcerer nodded. “They have been friends and enemies for millennia. Yet, if he wanted the stallion, he could find him easily. There’d be no reason to materialize haphazardly in the palace unless he was searching for something better hidden, something like the book.”
“What book?” Erini was becoming more and more confused.
Drayfitt sighed. “The book I used, half in ignorance, to summon a demon, or rather Darkhorse, to our world. A book he tricked me into destroying when he thought I wouldn’t be able to recapture him again.” The elderly spellcaster smiled a bit proudly at that; it had been a coup in ways, defeating the eternal twice. Then, he frowned. “I hope it’s not the book he’s after, though I can’t think what else it might be.”
All thought of her own problems had long ago vanished as Erini tried to make sense of everything. She had wanted answers for so long, but now that she had them, the princess was more at a loss than before. “Why do you say that? Is it something he should not have?”
“Probably not. That’s academic, I’m afraid, your majesty. As I said, I destroyed it. He’ll find nothing but ashes now.”
IN A DARKENED corner of the ceiling, a small form scurried deep into a crack that should have been too tight for it. The sacrifice of its brother had proven worth the cost, for it had discovered what its master had wanted to know. Soon, it would be able to return to the warm nothingness he had summoned it from. Perhaps even as soon as it relayed the news to him.
Shade’s eye-creature did not understand how its master would react to this particular bit of news. It would not be able to comprehend the fury nor would it comprehend that the warlock would destroy it, not because it had served him well, but because of a need to strike out at someone or something.
Least of all, it would not understand the danger the success of its mission had placed the sorcerer and the princess in. Nor would it have cared.
X
THE SILVER DRAGON watched from the throne he had usurped from his dead counterpart as his loyal subjects began the long process of clearing the central chamber of rubble. Under the light of many torches, warriors watched over the servitors, who seemed uneasy at invading the caverns of their cousins. The Dragon King shifted to a more imperious posture, the better to build the confidence of his people. It mattered not that the clans of Gold—those that still lived—were outraged at his actions. They had three choices: become part of the clans of Silver as the survivors of the clans of Bronze and Iron had, flee to their other cousins, or face execution. So far, none of the three choices had become a clear-cut victor, which was the best choice in the Silver Dragon’s mind, for it meant that the remnants of Gold’s people would never band together in sufficient strength to fight his rightful rule.
I
should have taken this place after Gold’s defeat. So many years wasted—but now the throne is mine. The days of the Thirteen Kingdoms are at an end. Eventually, the Dragonrealm will bow to one monarch alone with no council to voice their dissent….
So far, none of his counterparts had raised more than an angry voice against him; proof, he believed, of their gradual willingness to accept him as emperor of all. Only Green openly denounced him, but that was to be expected from a traitor whose domain housed his race’s greatest enemies, the Bedlams.
Ssssoon, he thought with a smile. Soon we shall begin the cleansing process, sweeping down and bringing the upstart warm-bloods to their knees, where they will learn once again to give obeisance in the proper manner.
One of his younger hatchlings, an unmarked male who served well in the hopes of securing a dukedom in the new regime of his sire, knelt before him. His false crest was less elaborate than some of his elders, a choice that the Dragon King approved of. He gestured for the warrior to speak.
“My sire, I give thanks to the Dragon of the Depths for your ascent to the throne of emperor.”
Silver hissed as the flattery made him swell with pride. “What word of our chaotic ally?”
“None. Our spies search for him—cautiously, as you commanded. There is word on the book, however,”
“And that is?”
“That the book is ash,” a voice from behind the throne announced.
The Dragon King leaped from the throne and whirled around. The other drakes looked up from their tasks, but a chill glance from their monarch, who realized he had lost face by this cowardly action, sent them scurrying back to their duties with greater effort than before.
“How?”
“The sorcerer Drayfitt. Why would you give such an artifact to a human sorcerer?” Shade cocked his head, his voice soft and smooth, companionable even.
The Dragon King was not fooled for a moment. He knew that he was facing yet another variation of the warlock, one that he suspected was closer to the original than any of the rest. “He was to translate it. All others failed. It was said he had the skill and knowledge.”
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 13
