“Toos runs Penacles in his absence,” Cabe concluded. “The general refuses to be named ruler, despite the pressure on him. He and I both wanted to go and aid the Gryphon, but that would have left no one to keep an eye on certain troublemakers.”
“A wise decision, Cabe! Now, what of you? The Lady of the Amber is your mate, yes?”
It was informative to the shadow steed the way the mention of his wife made the otherwise confident warlock turn red. Darkhorse recognized the deep love the mortal had for his enchantress.
“She’s my… mate. Yes. We have—we have two children.”
“But this is wonderful news!” Darkhorse roared, unmindful at the moment of how his voice carried. After so many dismal events, the progression of life, something that both fascinated and puzzled him, cheered the stallion, especially as it dealt with one of the few mortals who fully trusted him. “You must introduce them to me—if that is acceptable to the Lady of the Amber!”
Cabe smiled in wry humor. “She doesn’t like to be called that. It’s either ‘Lady Gwen’ or ‘the Lady Bedlam.’ She’s very much into the control of this place and our children… but then, so am I.”
Darkhorse quieted as the four exited from the forest and entered the clearing where the unique structure called simply the “Manor” stood. Seeing the place reminded him again of that time when he had come to Cabe’s rescue. The Manor was a perfect complement of nature and planned design. It was difficult to tell where the building ended and the natural contours of the great tree that made up at least half of the structure began. Some walls had been completely shaped by the tree; others had been built. It was at least three stories high, with windows everywhere. The grounds had been carefully shaped to match the land. There were other buildings as well; and, though they had not been designed with the efficiency and beauty of the ancient citadel, someone had taken great care to ensure that they did not detract from the splendor of the forest.
People looked up from their tasks—people and drakes, Darkhorse amended, trying to cope with the idea of such cooperation—and stared at the horse beside their lord. It was the stare of the mildly curious, not the panicked, which evidently meant that his disguise had succeeded. Both hatchlings suddenly ran off in the direction of the Manor itself, perhaps to give warning. The shadow steed wondered what sort of reception he could expect from the Manor’s mistress. A cool one at best. Better that than open warfare.
There had to be several families of both races living here side-by-side, but everyone seemed to be taking it with stride. A man and a drake dealing with the horses broke off from their discussion to first acknowledge the warlock, then to admire the magnificent black animal trotting beside him. Darkhorse watched them in turn, amazed at such cooperation, such friendship. Even the humans of Irillian or Zuu, cities in which humans and drakes had lived together for centuries, were more polite and respectful to one another than they were friendly.
“She was in the garden when I went out to search for Kyl,” Cabe whispered, nodding in turn to those who paid him homage as he passed. The embarrassed look on his face was a humorous sight to Darkhorse. “Hopefully, we should find her there.”
With a brief nod of his head, Darkhorse signalled his understanding. Certain questions were beginning to eat at his patience, however, and he hoped that he and the two human spellcasters would be able to converse before long. As enjoyable as this reunion had been, Shade was a problem that could not be cut off.
They did find Gwen in the garden. Kyl and Grath stood patiently off to the side. With the witch were two strikingly beautiful women. Though no judge of human tastes, Darkhorse knew that they were capable of tempting many a man. He also knew that these women were not human. They were female drakes, far more adept at shapeshifting into such forms but less talented at sorcery.
Despite their beauty, however, the two drakes paled in comparison to the woman kneeling before them, who was bent on adjusting the clothing of a small human male perhaps two years younger than the hatchlings. Long, thick tresses crimson in color fell well below her shoulders and a silver streak, smaller and narrower than the one in Cabe’s hair, added to the intensity of the fiery image. A form-fitting gown the color of emeralds revealed curves that were, by the standards of most human males Darkhorse had known through the ages, quite arresting. The Lady Bedlam rose and glanced their way, her perfect face with its glittering eyes—eyes that matched the gown absolutely—tiny nose, and full red lips marred only by the anxiety in her expression. Anxiety and distrust.
As they neared her, Darkhorse could not help feeling both relieved and disappointed that he was unique, that there was no female counterpart to him. Had there been, she surely would have resembled Cabe’s mate in thought and action.
Even the multiverse is not ready for that! he thought with much humor and some passing regret.
“S’sseresa,” Gwen called. The nearer of the two drake dams stepped closer. Her eyes still on the black steed, the witch said, “Take Aurim and the others to their rooms and please check on Valea. She should be waking from her nap soon.”
“As you wish, Lady Bedlam.” The two female drakes seemed to have no difficulty dealing with taking orders from a human, and Darkhorse slowly realized that they had probably had several years to get used to it. One dam took the two hatchlings; the other reached down and, whispering a few words to the golden-haired boy, took him by the hand. They followed after the others at a slower pace.
“Now, then.” Gwen’s expression was cold. “Kyl told me that you have somehow come back, but I was hoping he’d been imagining things. I see he wasn’t.”
“You were a bit warmer when last we parted company, Lady Bedlam—may I extend my congratulations?—and I see no reason for your continued distrust of me. I hardly came back by choice, much as I enjoy this world. I was forced back here by one of your kind.”
The ice melted. Barely.
“Things have been fairly peaceful here the last few years. I have children now, Darkhorse. Children who should grow up in peace.”
Darkhorse laughed, ignoring the fury on his hostess’s visage. “I am so sorry that I have to awaken you from your dream, witch! If you have eyes at all, you should know that, despite their unwillingness to band together, the Dragon Kings are far from harmless! Even now, the clans of Silver prepare to strike—and with Shade loose—”
“Wait! What’s that you said?” Cabe stepped between the two, his original intention being to keep one or both from striking out. Now, however, he was interested only in Darkhorse’s words. “Is that what you came to tell us?”
Backing away for the sake of his friend, the shadow steed nodded. Even the Lady Gwen was now listening in rapt attention. The anger had vanished, replaced by concern—concern for her husband and children.
“Now I have your attention! Good! It should have been obvious to you, Lady of the Amber, that if I’ve returned, then so has Shade! Our faceless comrade is worse than I can ever recall seeing him! Something in the spell that tore us from our exile has caused a reversion! Shade has been as a man gone truly mad, with personalities vying each time I’ve met him! I fear he is returning to his original mind-set—and I fear it may be the worst of all!”
Gwen sat down, her hands rubbing together tightly. “I owe you an apology, then. If what you say is true—”
“There is worse! I have sorely underestimated the age of my onetime comrade! If I am correct, a Vraad sorcerer walks among us again!”
The name meant nothing to Cabe, though he carried within him some of the memories of his grandfather, who had studied the ancient races thoroughly. Gwen, on the other hand, turned pale and spat out an epithet concerning the shadowy warlock that made her husband look at her in mild shock.
“What’s a Vraad sorcerer? Is he different from us?”
Lady Bedlam nodded slowly. Her jaw set tight as she looked at Darkhorse. “We’ve heard nothing out of the ordinary from the northern lands. The only reports that reach us concern the fact that Melica
rd is supposed to marry some princess from the west. I pity the woman.”
“They are a fair match, witch. She may be his salvation. She is also a latent sorceress.”
Cabe put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. She reached up and placed her own on his. The warlock smiled sadly, as if acknowledging the end of a beautiful time. “You seem to know quite a bit, Darkhorse. Maybe you could tell us how you know so much.”
He did. Drayfitt’s abilities came as no surprise to Cabe, though the elder’s actions in the name of his king did. Cabe had only met the man briefly, but he had come to respect him. Both spellcasters knew of Melicard’s crusade and his overzealous advisor, Mal Quorin, but spies had reported nothing except the usual raids, though those had become fewer in the last couple years.
Of Shade and the plots of the Silver Dragon, they knew nothing, and what Darkhorse conveyed to them stunned both Bedlams. To Lady Gwen, it was the culmination of fears she had always harbored about the hooded warlock; to Cabe, it was a tragic conclusion to someone he had both befriended and pitied. That the true Shade might be a less than savory being saddened him further.
“I’d always assumed he was a basically decent man behind that curse.”
“A fairy tale! This is true life! Shade is a Vraad and, with few exceptions, they were arrogant and amoral! The world did not weep at their passing, so I’m given to understand! It amazes me that you and yours could be descendents of their kind.”
“Cabe.” Gwen squeezed his hand tight. “If all he says is true—”
“I would not—”
She cut him off. “As all he says must be true, then we have been purposely led astray. Someone has been lulling us into a false sense of security.”
The warlock nodded. “The Silver Dragon or Melicard; more likely it’s his counselor, Quorin. I wonder if the lord of Dagora knows anything. He’s been extremely quiet himself.”
Growing unsettled, Darkhorse stamped the ground with his hoof. The words that fled his mouth had almost become an automatic ritual. “I was a fool! I should have come to you the moment freedom was mine! It may already be too late!”
Cabe grimaced. “It doesn’t do any good to continually condemn yourself; I did that enough to know. What we have to do now is contact the Green Dragon and, with his aid, discover why there seems to be a curtain of silence between us and the north. You said that there may be a pact between the Dragon King Silver and Shade. Do you have any idea what that pact might entail?”
“I suspect part of it might have to do with a book—Shade’s notes on his vile spells—but that book is dust, thanks to me. Without it, Shade will have to plan from scratch. At one point, he seemed to recall everything, but I think that must have proved a temporary state, else why his search?”
“Then you think he plans to recreate the original spell—but why if the curse is lifted?”
“It may not be lifted. Even if it has been, where would that leave him? Friend Bedlam, if Shade sought immortality long ago, why would he not seek it again?”
The warlock’s mate, who had remained silent during this part of the exchange, turned to Darkhorse. “I worry about Talak. It sounds like a volatile situation. Do we dare let it continue that way?”
Darkhorse saw what she feared. Now would be a perfect time for the drakes to strike at Talak. “I would go back there now, since I owe the Princess Erini for my freedom, but I lack the strength and will to form a proper portal.”
“Let me see.” Gwen reached out with her hands, standing as if she were trying to ward off the stallion. Darkhorse could feel her probe as it danced over his essence, stopping here and there as she sought the cause of his weakness. When she was through with her examination, the Lady Bedlam lowered her arms and nodded to herself.
“There is a thin link between you and… someone else.”
Incredulous, he searched for himself. His own probe was less efficient than hers, suffering as it did the way all of his abilities suffered, but he eventually found what she had located. Darkhorse laughed at the thin, magical strand, invisible and insubstantial, but virtually impossible to sever.
“Drayfitt’s link! That’s twice! Curse the mage! Am I never to be free of him?”
“Is it the same?” Lady Gwen asked. “Most links are forged in the same manner, but not this one.”
Darkhorse inspected it again. “No… and it explains my weakness. I have become—a source—of strength for Drayfitt. The link is draining me slowly, but… this is too haphazard. I think the Princess Erini did this to me unintentionally.”
“Sever it now,” Cabe suggested.
“He cannot. If he does, he loses what Drayfitt has already.” Gwen made a face. “You might say that the old sorcerer is stealing Darkhorse’s essence, his being.”
“I am being devoured alive, is what you’re saying!”
“Essentially.”
Cabe looked disgusted. “How can we stop it?”
“Killing Drayfitt is one way. With the link, all that he stole will return to its original place. Darkhorse might even gain something.”
“I want nothing of Drayfitt’s! I am not a ghoul—or a murderer!”
Lady Bedlam paced. “Nathan never taught me anything like this; I think he was as disgusted with the concept as you are, Cabe. Yet…”
“Yet what?” Darkhorse grew anxious. He enjoyed existence and planned to continue to enjoy it, despite the increasing odds against doing so.
“If you can persuade him to break the link from his end—”
“Why should he be able to do that when I cannot?”
“He forged the original.” She looked at Darkhorse as he thought she must look at her children when they asked an obvious question.
“Forgive me, Lady of the Amber! I have not suffered so many calamities in centuries! I fear I am not taking them well! The frustration of being kept in check while Shade—”
Gwen cut him off. “Forget your apologies, eternal. Perhaps you’re not quite the demon I cannot help thinking you are, but you always seem to be the harbinger of disaster. For the sake of my family and the peace of the lands, I want Shade stopped—even if that means dealing with you. I don’t say that I’m right, but I’d feel the children especially safer with you far from here.”
Darkhorse tilted his head to one side and looked at the two spellcasters, finishing up with Gwen. “Humans are a strange, convoluted people, and you, Lady Bedlam, are a prime example. There is a part of you that would accept friendship with me, but there is a part of you… I need not go on. When this is over—if it ever is—we must talk again.”
More to turn the conversation to a safer course than because it was necessary to say, Cabe interjected, “If you need Drayfitt to break the link, then that means you’ll have to go to him.”
“I am aware of that. The thought does not stir joy within me. Drayfitt is not in Talak, I believe. That leaves the city virtually under Mal Quorin’s control.”
“We’ll take care of that. It might be time for the master warlock Cabe Bedlam and his lovely bride, the powerful enchantress—enchantress of my heart!—Lady Gwen, to visit the city-state in typical sorcerous style.”
His wife gave him a coy look. “Materialize on the steps of the palace?”
“Probably not a good idea. If it was that easy, the Dragon Kings would have done it long ago. I was thinking more at the city gates with a great fanfare and fireworks—all illusion, of course.”
“What reason do we give, husband?”
“An offer of peace. Melicard was always good enough to hear such things out. There is still a good man beneath that horrible face.”
“Princess Erini has brought much of that man out to the surface,” Darkhorse added. “She would make a good ally, providing they do marry. Very well. I will leave now, then, since you seem to have things in hand! My relief is beyond measure—but what of the children while you two are gone?”
“Even Shade needed permission to enter this place. The children will be safe here.”
There will be time to worry about that only if we succeed in solving the present crisis! Through habit, Darkhorse reared, intending to summon a portal for his journey to the north. Only when nothing materialized did he remember the extent of his plight.
Cabe was the first to understand what was wrong. “You don’t have the strength or the will to summon a gate, do you?”
“I fear not.”
The warlock thought about it, then, with some hesitation, said, “Neither of us have been in that region for years; most of our portals would depend upon blind luck, except…”
“Except?”
Cabe looked at Gwen. “I think there’s one place I could never forget. Azran’s citadel.”
“There is little more than wreckage there. The spell protecting it from the violence of the Hell Plains and the ravages of time has long fled from it.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Yes.” Darkhorse decided it was better not to go into his encounter with the emissary from the Lords of the Dead.
“Still, I think I remember well enough to get you there safely. What do you say?”
“Since I have little to fear even if you should land me in molten earth or during some great tremor, I suppose so.”
Cabe gave him a sour grin. “Thanks for your confidence.”
The gate was there even as Cabe finished speaking, a sign of how accustomed he had become to his abilities since they had last met. Darkhorse inspected it briefly, more because of his own recent lack of success than because he did not trust the warlock’s skill. When he was satisfied, he turned to bid the two farewell.
“Thank you for your aid, Cabe Bedlam—and yours, too, Lady of the Amber.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“My apologies! I was warned and I forgot.”
She slowly shook her head. “I apologize. This is not the time for trivialities.”
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 17
