Shade walked slowly around the throne. The two drakes stepped back. “So the creature Mal Quorin is yours.”
His draconian ally did not argue the point. “Only after the book wasss brought to him did we discover the truth. The human king was quickly made to believe that a ssspell had been found that would give him a demon servant and all he had to do was find a sorcerer—which proved sssurprisingly easssy. The one called Drayfitt would continue the translation—at the command of his king, of course—and also test the validity of his resultsss.” Silver forced himself to stare into the two dark spots that passed for the warlock’s eyes. “He would either fail and disssgrace himself or succeed, at which point, sssome accident would overtake him and the book would be returned to me. Any demon he had sssummoned would then be mine to control!”
“You are quite a gambler, evidently. I doubt if I would have done the same as you.” With great deliberation, the warlock sat casually down on the throne. The drake who had reported to the would-be emperor hissed and bared his claws. Shade looked him over.
“One of your get?”
“What of it, human?” the defiant warrior hissed.
“He bears no markings,” the hooded figure commented to his ally, ignoring the growing anger of the younger drake.
“What if I do not?”
The warlock finally seemed to notice him again. “Just so I know that I’ve eliminated nothing of importance.”
The furious drake reached for him, then hissed in consternation as a great, black hole materialized in his stomach. While the rest of the drakes—unable to keep from looking despite their master’s earlier glare—watched in horror, the hole expanded. The hapless victim, in a state of insane calm, put one hand into the gaping maw, unable to believe his eyes.
The hand and the arm were sucked in.
In less than a breath, the shoulders, head, and remaining arm followed after and, when they, too, were gone, the torso and legs vanished into the hole. A single black spot remained floating in the air for a second or two, then vanished, seeming to swallow itself.
Shade glanced in the direction of the Dragon King. “You’ve desired the power of the Vraad; that was a taste of what we could do.”
“Am I next?”
“I was under the impression we had an alliance of sorts.” The warlock leaned forward. “Don’t we?”
“You recalled the book. That wasss why you returned to me. The book—your book—was destroyed. I assumed you had no further need to pursue our alliance and so I have moved on with my plansss.”
“Subjugation and/or destruction of Talak. I remember. I would think it simple with the king’s counselor at your beck and call.”
“Nothing is simple except the belief in simplicity.”
Rising, Shade straightened his cloak. “Continue with your plans. They coincide with my needs. There is only one thing you must remember.”
“That is?”
“The sorcerer Drayfitt must not be harmed. I’ve need of him.”
A wary look passed across the drake lord’s half-hidden face. “Quorin’s followers are to assassinate him—soon—while he travels with the army. What need do you have for a human spellcaster with little more than adequate ability?”
“It’s not his abilities as a sorcerer that I want. It’s his mind. You did say he set out to translate the entire book, didn’t you?”
“So?”
Shade sighed, wondering how this creature could miss the obvious. “Never mind. Return to your plans.”
“But your part of the bargain—”
“That?” The warlock smiled, a shadowy line slightly bent upward on each end. There was something dreadfully cold about his smiles, Silver thought.
“Neither Darkhorse nor the Bedlams will interfere. You may rest assured on that. They will be too busy with other, weightier matters.” That said, the warlock curled within himself and vanished.
Almost the Dragon King felt sympathy for the warlock’s adversaries—almost.
ANOTHER DAY HAD passed and Darkhorse once more studied the cracks of the chamber walls. Studied them while his mind sank deeper into a bottomless abyss.
Failure. Utter failure.
Darkhorse looked again at the chamber that was his world and would be his world for some time to come, apparently. His one hope had been crushed—and at the moment of greatest potential.
The human female called Erini, Melicard’s betrothed—now there was irony—was a natural spellcaster of high potential, possibly as high as Cabe Bedlam or the Lady Gwen. She had noticed the fragment of self although even Drayfitt had not. In the last moment of vision, he had seen how her hands itched to reach out to the powers, manipulate them. The female was stifling those powers, though; that much he had seen as well. If that were the case, he would receive little aid from her. Likely, she had not even told Melicard her secret.
His thoughts were interrupted by the unlocking of the door. That made him chuckle in sour humor; who would want to come in and what would they do once they were here? If it was not to keep someone out, what other reason was there for locking the door? Darkhorse would have been as secure if the entire palace had been leveled. Even then, the barrier enclosing him would have stood.
The door swung open and Melicard himself, accompanied by his foul shadow, Quorin, and the pitiful mage, Drayfitt, entered. There was something different about the king, a humanity that had blossomed almost overnight. It was not complete humanity, not by far, but a great touch more than the split-faced monarch had had during his first visit.
Given time, this princess would make him a whole man again. The shadow steed studied Melicard’s visage closer, especially the living eye and the set of his mouth.
Apparently, there will not be time after all.
The king was here with an ultimatum. Darkhorse could read that even before Melicard spoke.
“My army marches against the clans of Red in the Hell Plains at tomorrow’s dawn. Men will die so that their children will live free. The Plains will drink their blood as it drinks the blood of drakes.”
“A pretty speech… and very old.”
“You have been told not to be disrespectful to his majesty, demon! Perhaps you need another lesson—”
Melicard curtly signalled for silence. “Quiet! I want this creature, this legendary Darkhorse who fought alongside the Dragon Masters, Cabe Bedlam, and other humans throughout the centuries, to tell me why he will not save the lives of men by ending those of drakes!”
The ebony stallion sighed. “You who would make history, have you not studied it? Are not the lessons of the Quel, the Seekers, and those who preceded even them evident? This land we now call the Dragonrealm is a harsh mother. It has watched the glory of many races and it has watched the downfall of each—all through bloodshed. Even the Quel, who succeeded where others failed and held onto a bit of their power when the Seekers took control, even they did not learn from their mistake and eventually lost what little they had in trying to destroy the new avian masters! As for the Seekers, in putting down the last gasp of the Quel, they planted the seeds of their own destruction!”
Melicard was silent, but Darkhorse could see his words had had no effect. And I scoffed at his tired speech!
The king’s eventual response was what he had expected. “Though you are our prisoner, for some reason we cannot make you obey. Drayfitt has tried to explain, but that means nothing. Tomorrow, I will send the army out—without your magical aid. It will take them a week to ten days to reach the northern part of the Hell Plains, where the Red Dragon’s revitalized clans prepare for their own assault. We shall catch them unprepared, however; and, where Azran Bedlam failed, we shall wipe them out to the last egg. One less clan. The others will follow.”
“All hail the conquering heroes!” scoffed the shadow steed.
“Your majesty—” the counselor began to protest.
“You were overzealous before, Quorin. We will not punish this one, not this time. Perhaps he will reconsider b
efore the deaths have grown too many.”
Darkhorse refused to look at the king any longer, instead choosing to alternate his piercing gaze between Drayfitt, the weakest link, and Mal Quorin, the treacherous one. The elderly spellcaster looked pale, worn, as if he had just suffered a great disaster. If so, the malevolent cat who counseled the king had something to do with it because there was now a slight hint of satisfaction on Quorin’s face that, under the circumstances, should not have been there. The counselor almost seemed pleased by events.
Something is not right where this tabby is concerned, Darkhorse decided. What can I do about it now, though?
“Come,” Melicard commanded his two advisors. “There are more fruitful endeavors to pursue at the moment.”
“The only fruitful endeavors will be those of the Lords of the Dead—after the battle.”
The door shut behind them with a sinister note of finality. Darkhorse kicked at his invisible cage, frustrated more than before.
“Fools!” he cried, though he doubted they could hear him, sound-absorbing as this room was. “This will be far worse than the Turning War!”
He brooded after that, unheedful of the hours that soon passed by and wondering again and again if they now intended on abandoning him down here indefinitely. Perhaps, as the years fall, some scavenger searching through the ruins of this once-proud city-state will find his way down here and pass on a word or two before leaving me alone again.
The door jostled. Someone was trying to open it—but with little success. Darkhorse gathered himself together, his interest in things revived by this sudden and possibly trivial incident. It may only be a guard testing the lock…
Nothing else happened for more than two minutes. The shadow steed’s hopes sagged again.
A sudden groan of twisting metal informed him that the first time had not been an illusion. The area of the door where the handle and lock were situated had been torn asunder, rendering the whole thing useless. Someone standing on the other side of the door pushed it forward.
The eyes of the Princess Erini stared at him in awe and growing recognition.
“You. You were the shadow in the hall. The one that—that followed me and then vanished.” While she talked, her hands continued to twitch, as if they were eager to perform yet more sorcery.
Darkhorse dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Princess Erini, I would assume.” He indicated the door. “A trifle overdone, I’d think.”
She looked embarrassed. “I was only trying to open it. Drayfitt said that if you concentrate, you can manipulate the spectrum and unlock it with little more than a look.”
“Can you try that with my accursed cage here? Have you come to set me free?”
“Are you—are you Darkhorse?”
That made him laugh loudly. “Of course. Who else could I be? Who else would dare to be Darkhorse—or want to be, for that matter?”
“Not so loud, please!”
His manner became subdued. The shadow steed knew that this human held his freedom in her anxious hands. “Why did you come down here? Won’t Melicard become wroth when he discovers his future bride has uncovered one of his secrets?”
“Melicard is busy. Quorin”—the look of disgust on her young face was evidence enough of her hatred for the man. The shadow steed’s opinion of the princess rose further—“has convinced him that the time to move is now. Melicard is completing final preparations.”
“He was here earlier. This is madness, you know.” The ebony stallion shifted impatiently in the confined space of his prison. Free me! he wanted to shout at the human.
Erini looked up sharply. “I don’t know if I should. I don’t know if I can.”
“Your powers are very formidable, gentle lady. I think you could undo the spell the elderly human wrought. The key is in the symbols on the floor. Look closely at them.”
She started to, but then shook her head. “I can’t! If I do, Melicard will never forgive me! If I betray him, he’ll find out about these!”
“Your hands? They seem lovely, though I’m no judge of human standards….”
“You know what I mean. These powers. I do not want them. They are a curse. If I thought that cutting off my hands would rid me of them, I’d be tempted to do it.”
“It will not, so do not think about it again.” Madness! Am I to be tormented by the key to my freedom?
If Erini caught that thought, she did not respond to it. Instead, the princess said, “Drayfitt told me the same thing. I know that.”
“Is that why you came to me? To tell me you don’t like your gifts and you won’t use them to release me? Are you a greater sadist than the ‘lovely’ Counselor Quorin, then? He has only assaulted my physical form; you’ve torn at my hopes!”
“No! I—”
“Princess!” Drayfitt stood at the doorway. He had become even more worn and pale since the shadow steed had seen him hours before. Caught up in their own thoughts, neither Erini nor the eternal had noticed his nearby presence. He, on the other hand, had felt them all the way in the main hall, where he had just left the king after an unsuccessful attempt to, if not call off the march, postpone it until events became clearer. The intensity of the two had been enough to pierce the cloud of worry smothering his mind—and probably would have been enough had he been outside the walls of Talak itself.
The elderly mage inspected the damaged door and grew even more dismayed. “This will never do!” He touched the torn handle and lock. Before the eyes of Darkhorse and the princess, the metal reshaped itself, returned to what it had been like before Erini’s impetuous entrance. Drayfitt glanced up again. “Your majesty! What do you hope to gain by coming here? I warned you to stay away!”
“I could not help it, Master Drayfitt!” She stepped back from both of them. “I saw the three of you come down here hours ago, then leave a few minutes later. When I saw the guards depart as well, I knew something had happened. I—I was not thinking properly. It took me this long to build up my determination, but eventually I had to come down here—I do not know why. Perhaps to see… to understand…” Erini trailed off, at a loss.
“She came to see a curiosity, sorcerer!” Darkhorse bellowed arrogantly. “She came to see the demon her love had chained to this world! Rest assured, she would not want to hurt his feelings by granting me my rightful freedom, oh no! I pleaded with her long enough to know that!”
Erini looked as if the shadow steed had kicked her violently—which was just what Darkhorse wanted. It was a terrible thing, he knew, that he was forced to resort to shaming her, but if the stallion had read her correctly, the princess would turn that shame around and come back to him—this time to free him.
I will make amends to her after Shade has been dealt with Darkhorse swore, shielding the thought from her already impressive abilities. He tried not think that by forcing her to look at her own conscience and free him, that she might lose the man she loved.
There were times when he did not envy humans the ability to love. It seemed to have more to do with pain than any other emotion.
Ignoring his outburst, Drayfitt confronted his queen-to-be. “Your majesty, tomorrow, thanks to the slippery words of the loyal Master Quorin, I will be enroute with the army. I must ask that you watch yourself while I’m gone, stay with the king at all times. The more Quorin has him alone, the more he can poison his mind—and diminish your hopes of a true relationship. I shall return when I can.”
“If you can, spellcaster. Your kind has a limited lifespan in war. What happens to the city, then?”
“I will see to it that nothing happens. I’ve a stake in my life, Darkhorse.” The elderly man took hold of one of Erini’s arms in a gentle but determined manner. “Come, milady. Judging by your mishap with the door, there are things I need to show you before I leave come the morn.”
“Wait, Drayfitt!” The shadow steed shifted as close to the door as the barrier would let him. “What about Shade? I’ve felt him here! You cannot deny his existence, I thin
k.”
The two humans looked at one another in a manner that answered one part of Darkhorse’s question. The warlock had returned to Talak at least once and both of them knew about it. It was Erini who finally responded, much to the evident consternation of the sorcerer.
“He’s been here at least twice, Lord Darkhorse. Once, for a brief moment, in my chambers; the second time, to release some foul creatures to spy on the palace.”
“He wanted the book, apparently,” her companion interrupted. “It was his, you know, but thanks to you, demon, I destroyed it.”
“Then, you are in danger, human!”
“He’s your foe. You were the one truly responsible. He has no further argument with me.” The tone of Drayfitt’s voice suggested he had worked hard to convince himself of that.
“Don’t be a fool, mortal!”
Drayfitt turned from him. “Come, your majesty.”
She accompanied him, but slowed long enough to study Darkhorse in detail. Darkhorse returned her frank stare. This was a female who did not give in easily. There was hope after all.
As the door closed, the shadow steed laughed quietly. Now, if only it was not too late.
THE CLIMB UP was long and especially slow, despite Drayfitt’s continual urging. Erini only partially heard him, her mind on the confrontation below.
Living darkness. An abyss that threatened to swallow all that stood too near it. More than a shadow, yet also less.
All these were apt descriptions of the astonishing being she had met. All were apt but greatly insufficient descriptions of the jet-black stallion calling itself Darkhorse. Majestic and terrible at the same time, he was far more than the legends had even hinted at. Small wonder he was held in both awe and fear by those who knew of him. There was a sense of time beyond eternity in his very presence. His chilling blue eyes, crystalline and lacking pupils, seemed capable of capturing her very soul.
His words came back to Erini and the shame burned brightly within her once more. For the sake of her relationship with Melicard, she had been willing to leave him a prisoner. It went against everything she believed in, and the fact that she had not done anything about it cut her deeply. She had once dreamed of a marriage based on love and trust; could she be satisfied with one that was also built on the sufferings of others?
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 14
