Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II

by Richard A. Knaak

  After his fourth miss, Darkhorse suspected he was being led astray; suspected it, but could not be certain. There was always the chance that Shade wanted him to believe he was on a false trail. As he had thought so often in the past, the only thing predictable about the warlock was his unpredictability. That convoluted sort of reasoning had forced him to pursue the trail again and again. This visitation, however, had finally settled it for him. Shade had made a fool out of the eternal once more.

  What is your purpose for all of this, Shade? What plot have you unleashed now?

  Was there danger to Melicard or the Princess Erini? The possibility was too great to ignore. Darkhorse departed the damaged cellar posthaste. In his imagination, he saw the king and all his soldiers scattered about like so many toys. Worse yet, he pictured the novice spellcaster, Erini, desperately battling for herself and her betrothed against a foe she could not hope to withstand. It was not that she was weak or that she was a female; it was because the warlock had the experience of the ages to draw upon, whereas she had only a handful of suggestions given to her by Drayfitt and him.

  He burst through the portal’s other end, landing amidst a conference between Melicard and several officers. A few could not help gasping at the imposing sight. Melicard flinched, but otherwise held his shock back respectably.

  “Darkhorse! Where have you been? Dawn is almost upon us! The first rays are already doing battle with the weakening night!”

  “Already?” The eternal sought out a window facing the proper direction. Sure enough, there was an aura of light growing steadily upward from the horizon. Had he been occupied that long? Either his obsession had finally grown completely out of control, or Shade had added a slight twist to the trail, secretly slowing Darkhorse’s time perspective. True, he had also taken quite some time with his search of Quorin’s belongings, but that still was not sufficient. It would have been an astounding feat, slowing time, that is, but hardly something beyond the abilities of a Vraad. Darkhorse prayed he was incorrect; if Shade was playing with time, then the entire world was threatened. The Vraad had a tendency to eventually destroy everything they utilized.

  Melicard sensed Darkhorse’s sinking mood. “What is it? What did you find in Quorin’s chambers? Something of great importance?”

  Shaking dark thoughts from his mind, the shadow steed finally replied. “There is nothing of value to us that I could discover. Perhaps you will find it different. My sincere recommendation, however, is to either seal or strip those chambers as soon as you can. I, myself, would prefer everything burned—with the fiend bound, gagged, and laid out on top of the pyre!”

  “Gods! What did you find?”

  “That is unimportant to us at the moment! The Princess Erini! Where is she?”

  “I sent her to get some rest some time ago. We’ll need her if we’re to stand off the Dragon King’s oncoming host. By the way,” Melicard gave him a triumphant smile that somehow stretched across the mask, too, “the gate is ours. It was almost too simple—even more so than retaking the palace. They virtually threw themselves at us and begged for imprisonment rather than face the demons! You have quite a reputation now, Darkhorse.”

  “One that I would gladly trade for another, I think. Is the princess guarded?”

  “I believe so. She will be safe.”

  Darkhorse shook his head. “I think I would prefer to look in—”

  “Your majesty!” An officer clad in the same sort of uniform as Erini’s Captain Iston barged through the heavy doors. He had apparently been running all the way from wherever he had come. “I brought the news myself, in case you had questions!”

  “Questions about what, man?” Melicard demanded.

  Between gulps of air, the soldier replied, “The lookouts have identified the first signs of the drakes’ approach!”

  “Already!” Melicard took a deep breath and looked at everyone, even Darkhorse. “Come. I want to see it for myself and I want each and every one of you to give me any observations about them as they draw nearer.”

  Darkhorse hesitated, caught between his fear for his benefactress, the princess, and his concern for Talak. Talak won out, though the steed swore to himself that he would look in on Erini once he had seen whatever there was to see of Silver’s horrible army.

  Out on one of the highest balconies of the palace, they gathered to watch. One of his aides handed the king a long tube, which Melicard put to his eye. Darkhorse did not have to ask the purpose of the device, which obviously gave the king a better view of the distant reaches. Sorcerers had created similar tools before, though this one had evidently been crafted by hand.

  “I see them,” Melicard commented at last. “By my father, it looks to be a vast legion! I don’t think there’s been a drake host this great since perhaps the siege of Penacles!”

  While others gazed on or waited for the opportunity, Darkhorse adjusted his own senses, allowing him a view that even the mechanical toys of the king could not match. Melicard was correct; this was a vast host—and at its head rode the Dragon King himself. Oddly, Silver seemed almost apprehensive. Bully and coward though the drake lord was, Darkhorse would have expected him to be in a far more triumphant mood. With such an army behind him and the city gate supposedly ready to welcome him in without a struggle, he should have been confident. Was it just the drake’s way, or did he know something?

  Surveying the drake warriors who rode beside their master, Darkhorse finally discovered the horrible truth. Seated behind one warrior and looking distinctly distressed was none other than Mal Quorin.

  “King Melicard!” The eternal returned his senses to normal.

  “What now, friend Darkhorse? Do you see something?”

  The shadow steed laughed. “Do I see something? Your majesty, was it your intention to perhaps draw the drakes unsuspectingly to your gates? Did you hope to fool them into thinking that the traitors still controlled the city?”

  From the flushed look on Melicard’s face, he had intended something very close to that. Darkhorse was not surprised; it would have been a fairly logical maneuver.

  The stallion dipped his head so that he was almost on a level with the mortal. “Your majesty, the plan will fail now! Mal Quorin rides with the drakes!”

  “Impossible!” Melicard raised the tube to his eye again and tried to see what his ally had. Unfortunately, the device was not up to the task. He threw it to the floor in disgust, where the glass lens on one end cracked from the force. The king did not even notice. “I believe you, Darkhorse, even if I can’t see it for myself! How, though? What sort of trick?” He turned to one of his aides. “Alert the gate! Tell them that our plan is known!” To another, he added, “Go to our treacherous counselor’s cell! Find out from the guards posted there what happened and why I was not informed!”

  “Go easy on the sentries, your highness,” Darkhorse commented, somewhat subdued. His mind had been racing and he suspected he knew the secret of Quorin’s escape. “They are probably confused and fearful. I think that I may have accidently been the catalyst for the devil’s escape.” He did not elaborate, intending that for a time when things were more peaceful—if such a rarity were ever to occur.

  Melicard nodded, reading the eternal’s attitude and knowing Darkhorse was angry toward himself. Fear suddenly raged across the monarch’s odd features. Not fear for himself, but for his bride-to-be. “Erini! He might have done some something to her!”

  That was doubtful, in Darkhorse’s opinion. He suspected now that the box was a last resort saved by Mal Quorin on the off-chance that he had to flee to his master. In opening up the container, the shadow steed had unwittingly unleashed the spell, which apparently had been specifically tied to the imprisoned advisor.

  The king would not listen to those around him. If he had not been informed of Quorin’s escape, then it followed that he might also have not been informed of any new attempt to kill or kidnap Princess Erini. Darkhorse was on the verge of stating that he would investigate, having
already desired to do so since first arriving, when a new voice broke through the chaos.

  “What’s wrong? Darkhorse! Melicard! Are the drakes already at the gate?”

  “Erini!” At the sight of his beloved, the king rushed to her and took her in his arms, ignoring the embarrassed looks on the face of his subordinates. The princess held him briefly, but seemed more interested in what was going on that would require everyone’s presence here. “I couldn’t sleep any more,” she commented as she broke away and walked toward the rail of the balcony. “I was worried that something might happen while I was resting.”

  Melicard, a little at a loss due to the chaos his mind had been struggling with, joined her. “The drakes are out on the horizon. There. Darkhorse says that Quorin is with them.”

  “Quorin? That’s terrible.” Erini stared northward, as if trying to see the drake army without the aid of any device or her own sorcery.

  Darkhorse snorted. Terrible? He would have expected a far more virulent response from the princess, who probably hated Quorin more than anyone else here. Studying her closely, he noted her pale, almost unresponsive features. It was likely that her lackluster response was due in great part to a surge of fatalism concerning the coming day or even simply because she had only slept a short while. Unlike Melicard and his men, who were long used to staying awake for a day or more, she had never had the need to do so. Would that I could sleep! I would sleep for a year if such was possible!

  But not until Shade has been dealt with, he reminded himself.

  Shade. Darkhorse still wondered what purpose the warlock had had in setting him off on the endless and pointless chase. Shade had wanted him occupied. Why?

  He realized belatedly that Melicard was speaking to him. “What was that, your majesty?”

  “I asked what might be taking your friends so long? We have need of the Bedlams, Darkhorse. I would like to discuss our options with them before-hand—unless they feel they can arrive at the last moment and remove the threat with a wave of their hands.” The king’s voice was tinged with aggravation. His kingdom’s existence was hanging in the balance and two of his greatest allies were among the missing.

  Darkhorse, too, began to wonder. Cabe had fallen prey to Shade’s machinations earlier. Had the warlock struck twice? “I will go seek them now! There is still time before the Silver Dragon can strike! Will you be safe?”

  “I would never leave my kingdom defenseless against a threat like the drakes. I swore that Duke Toma would be the last of his kind to ever enter Talak with his head still attached to his body.”

  The shadow steed chuckled. “Indeed. You also have your personal sorceress, too.” He indicated a somber Erini with a nod of his head. She looked at Darkhorse, smiled briefly, then returned to her dreamlike gazing. “Yes. I will return before long, King Melicard! You have my oath on that!”

  “I would prefer your presence instead. We will await your return.”

  Summoning a portal, Darkhorse leapt from the balcony and vanished into it. The transition was swift this time and he barely noticed his brief passage through the emptiness. In mere breaths, he was exiting the other side, his destination as near to the protective barrier as he could get. This time, he hoped for a simpler visit.

  He sent a probe first, hoping that it would engage the attention of one of those he sought. With the Bedlams sorely needed elsewhere, Darkhorse wanted to keep his return as quiet as possible so as to not panic the others who lived here. Unfortunately, he received no response, which, when he thought about it, left him few other choices than to call out.

  Trotting closer to where the Manor itself stood, Darkhorse shouted, “Bedlams! Cabe! It is I, Darkhorse! I have need of you!”

  He heard confused shouts and the mutters of angry folk. Several anxious minutes went by before someone responded to his summons. It was not Cabe. It was an uncrested drake, one of the servitor caste, who finally dared to challenge him.

  “What isss it? What do you ssseek?”

  “What do I seek? Your master and mistress, drake! The warlock Cabe Bedlam and his mate, the Lady of the Amber!”

  The drake seemed more interested in the ebony stallion than locating those he served. “I have never ssseen a beassst such as you!”

  “I was here earlier! I am Darkhorse!”

  “Darkhorssse!” The drake hissed in pleasure. “The massster has ssspoken of you! I wasss sorry that I misssed you! I am Ssarekai, one who trains and cares for riding drakes and sssteeds such as your magnificent ssself!”

  As much as Darkhorse normally delighted in being appreciated, he had no time for such flattery now. “Your master, scaly one! I have need to speak with him!”

  “Yesss, forgive me! Your appearance here has excited me! Others have been searching for them!”

  “Searching? No one knows where they are?”

  “They were not in their room.”

  Ssarekai would have said more, but a human female materialized through the trees and rushed to his side. Glancing at Darkhorse with more than a little fear, she whispered to the drake. It was an odd sight. Though humans and drakes intermingled in some places, such as Irillian, there was generally a sense of separation even when they spoke to one another. Here, on the other hand, the woman stood somewhat behind Ssarekai, as if she depended on him for protection from Darkhorse.

  Curious things are being done here, the shadow steed thought wryly.

  The drake looked upset. His hissing became more evident and his blunted, nearly human tongue darted in and out every now and then as he spoke. “Great Darkhorse, sssomething is amissss! No one can find the massster and mistress! Someone sssays—”

  He did not hear what the drake had to say next, for another voice intruded, this one threatening to tear his mind apart, so intensely did it strike him. Ssarekai stepped back, his next words forgotten. Behind him, the female human tried to make herself as small as possible.

  Darkhorse!

  That was all. His name. His name echoing again and again. Shaking his head, he succeeded in clearing the echoes from his mind, but not from his thoughts.

  “Great Darkhorse?” Ssarekai tentatively called.

  The eternal paid him no mind. Erini! She was calling for his help! The Dragon King must have struck somehow!

  His task here forgotten, the eternal summoned forth a new portal. Had the drakes waited until he was gone before beginning some insidious assault? What?

  “Great One?” the drake Ssarekai called again, this time more urgently. His voice went unheeded.

  “STAND FAST! THOSE who would touch the friends of Darkhorse must be willing to pay in full for their misdeeds!”

  The fearsome statements were out of his mouth before his eyes acknowledged the obvious fact that no one standing within sight appeared to be under attack by so much as a flea. Nothing seemed to be happening at all, save that Darkhorse once again found himself facing a sea of startled looks from every pair of eyes in the room. It was something he was becoming very annoyed about. The stallion was beginning to feel as if he were the intruder, not Shade or the Silver Dragon.

  Scanning those around him, Darkhorse spotted Erini. She was staring at him in mild surprise. Confused, the shadow steed turned away from her gaze and focused on Melicard. The king flashed an uncertain smile in his direction.

  “While we—appreciate—the sentiment, Darkhorse, I think the time for theatrics is long past.”

  Something is dreadfully wrong here! Had it been possible, his face would have turned crimson. “I received a desperate summons for help—from the Princess Erini!”

  Melicard looked at his future queen. “Erini?”

  The princess shook her head silently. She seemed almost disinterested.

  The king turned back to the imposing figure before him and said, “Nothing has happened since you departed a moment ago save that the drakes have moved a little closer and we still await your friends, the Lord and Lady Bedlam. When do they arrive? I would rather not put my faith entirely in my o
wn tricks, not if there are two master spellcasters available.”

  “I—I cannot say when they will arrive or if they even ever will. There was no sign of them. Their own people cannot find them!”

  “Cannot find them?”

  “I fear Shade has struck again!” Darkhorse could not help looking skyward. “I rue that this time should have ever come! He was my friend during many an adventure, but he has also been my sworn foe in times past! This day, however, washes away all the good that he has ever performed! If Cabe and his mate have suffered because of the warlock…” Darkhorse could not finish, unable to find a punishment strong enough to mete out.

  The cry had seemed so real. He studied the princess, who idly stood by, waiting for something to happen. Why was she so indifferent now? Even with the lack of true sleep, she was not acting as he would have imagined her to act. The Erini he had met would have continued pushing until unconsciousness took her. This one seemed to hardly care.

  There was one other thing that disturbed him—or perhaps it was the absence of something.

  Several men came marching into the chamber, Captain Iston in their lead. A gasp escaped Erini and she took a tentative step forward before catching herself and settling back into her look of indifference. Darkhorse’s ice-blue eyes narrowed.

  Iston saluted. “My men are ready when you give the signal, your majesty.”

  Darkhorse listened to the officer’s words, but his eyes remained fixed on the princess. There was a look of longing growing in her eyes that had nothing to do with Melicard. Her attention appeared to be focused on the captain.

  He knew that the princess was a woman of passions, but the shadow steed knew that her love could have never turned so easily. Erini had been prepared to give her life several times over for the sake of her betrothed. This Erini acted as if she had never cared at all.

  This Erini?

  Forgetting Melicard and the others, he trotted toward the princess. She could not help turning to him, so impressive a sight he was, especially moving toward her with such evident purpose. Strangely, there was a level of fear noticeable in her eyes that also did not match the Erini he had come to know well, even despite what little time they had spent together.