Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol III Part 7

"They . . . they did nothing, Melicard. I overextended myself. Cabe would have performed the spell, but I did not think he would find Darkhorse. I knew exactly where he would be if he was anywhere in . . . in that region."

"Where were you?" He touched her skin. "You're cold, Erini; I should have noticed that sooner . . . you've been to the Wastes, haven't you?"

It was clear it was a strain for her to keep speaking, but the queen was not one to let others take the blame when she considered herself at fault. Cabe felt guilty that he allowed her to continue, but if anyone could make the ruler of Talak see reason, it was Erini.

"Listen to me, my love. I have to tell you everything the first time. I do not have the strength to repeat myself. Do you understand?"

Much of Melicard's anger dwindled away as he realized what effect his fury was having on her. Still holding her, he sat down on the bed. "Very well; I'm listening, my queen."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. An older, plump woman, one of Erini's two longtime companions from her former homeland, peered inside anxiously. "Your Majesties . . ."

Erini steadied herself. "Please wait without until I call for you, Galea. It will be but a moment."

It was not to the woman's liking, but she nodded and withdrew. The queen's ladies were very protective of their charge, especially Galea and Magda.

"Now," began the queen. "Let me tell you what happened, my beloved."

She told him everything, glancing at the warlock for understanding. Cabe nodded; he agreed that there was no longer any reason to keep the purpose of his mission a secret. Melicard deserved the explanation even if, to the warlock, it might complicate something already too complicated. The king's face was a mask in more ways than one now. Neither the real nor the elfwood side betrayed any emotion. Melicard was simply absorbing the facts. Afterward, when he had had a chance to consider what she had relayed to him, he might again become the living fury he had been a moment ago. The warlock hoped not, but there was no predicting Melicard. He would have to wait and see.

Erini was forced to pause several times in order to regain her strength, but at last she finished. More drained than before, the exhausted queen fell back onto the bed. Melicard rose to call her ladies in, but she reached up, put her hand on his, and said, "Not just yet, my lord. Let us finish here first. I'm only tired; nothing more. I promise you."

"You're certain, Erini?"

"I am."

"I would never let anything happen to her, Your Majesty," Cabe added. "My power stands ready to aid her if necessary. She's overtaxed herself like she said. It can happen . . . I know that too well . . . when a fairly new mage succeeds too quickly with some spell. I apologize, however, for letting her go as far as she did. That was my mistake."

"Erini has a stubbornness worthy of me!" commented Darkhorse. He was more his old self now. Cabe was thankful for that; if his old friend agreed to join him, he would need Darkhorse at his best. Distracted, he could become more of a danger, for Cabe would then himself be distracted from his course. "When she chooses to do something, she does it! One might as well ask the Tybers to move aside for them rather than convince the queen to change her mind on certain subjects!"

"I am . . ." the king began, "very much aware of my wife's qualities. Foremost of those is a tendency to be open and straightforward with the truth. That and her beauty were what struck me that first day we met as adults." He turned to face the two. His expression was calm, but his tone was just slightly cold. "I take what she says now as the true and complete story . . . as she knows it. You have my apologies, Master Bedlam, for my accusing you of being responsible for her condition."

"There's no need to apologize, Your Majesty. Under the circ.u.mstances, you reacted as anyone might have."

"Indeed." King Melicard rose. "And now that you've found what you were searching for, Master Bedlam, I am sure that you must be on your way. This news of Legar and the wolf raiders I will pa.s.s on to Iston. I will respect your mission. We will do nothing for now except watch. When you've discovered what you can, I would appreciate being told."

They were being asked to leave and leave now. Melicard's words teetered on the edge of bluntness, but at the same time he was sounding civil. It was all that could have been expected from him at a time like this. Cabe was more than ready to depart. As the king had almost said, he had found who he had been searching for. Thank the stars Darkhorse didn't take him to task for that slight!

"I was glad . . . glad to be what help I could, Cabe," whispered Erini from the bed. She managed to lean up a bit. "Good luck."

"And where do we go from here, Cabe?" asked Darkhorse. There seemed no question in his mind that he would follow the sorcerer to the inhospitable peninsula. Darkhorse was very loyal to those he considered his friends.

"Thank you, Erini, and you, too, Darkhorse. First to the Manor, I suppose, to let Gwen know I've found you. Then, I think on to Zuu."

"Zuu?"

Much to Cabe's surprise, it was Melicard who answered the demon steed for him. "Zuu would be appropriate. There is no human city closer to the domain of the Crystal Dragon. They may have some word there that has not reached us yet." He hesitated, then added, "Good luck, Master Bedlam."

The warlock bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty. It may be that this will be simple and swift. The danger may be limited. There is something going on there, though, and for reasons I don't understand, I seem to have been included."

"Have no fear now, Cabe!" Darkhorse roared. "With me at your side, it is our foes who must worry!"

The demon steed's brash confidence, while not enough to change Cabe's own dour opinion on the matter, still succeeded in bringing a smile to his face. It was hard not to be at least a bit more hopeful when he was with Darkhorse.

"Give Gwen my love," Erini added from the bed.

"I will." He looked at his unearthly companion. "Are you ready?"

"I was ready long ago, Cabe! I look forward to this adventure with great antic.i.p.ation!"

The warlock concentrated. "I'm glad someone is."

Darkhorse was still laughing when they vanished.

AT THE SOUTHEASTERN edge of the land of Irillian, a longboat from the lone black s.h.i.+p slowly made its way toward sh.o.r.e. The black s.h.i.+p had waited until just the right time to come close enough to deposit its cargo. There were those who would have gladly sunk the vessel without so much as a question or a warning. Its mere presence, even in the distance, would have sealed its fate no matter who had been aboard.

There were three aboard the longboat, all of whom wore heavy cloaks designed not only to protect them from the spray and rain, but also, if need be, to protect their ident.i.ties. Only one rowed; the other two sat and watched, wary.

They did not beach the longboat. Instead, when they were near enough, the two pa.s.sengers climbed out into waist-deep water and waded their way toward sh.o.r.e. The third figure slowly began to turn the boat around so that he could return to the other vessel.

Both pa.s.sengers moved swiftly through the sea. Their reactions were those of folk who little loved the water and suffered it now only because it was necessary. When they were at last on the beach, the duo shook themselves off, the wild wind and their cloaks making them look like the specters of dead seamen rising from the depths. They then turned and briefly watched their companion row back to the dark hunter. Satisfied that the s.h.i.+p would depart undetected, the two quietly conferred and then started inland, the taller one leading the way.

The journey ahead would be long and tiring, but they were undeterred by that thought. All that concerned them was the reason that had brought them to this sh.o.r.e in the first place. They were hunters, both of them, and they had come to the Dragonrealm because that was where their prey was. Whether it took ten days or ten years, they would complete their quest, for with them it had also become an obsession. Either they succeeded or they died. Living with failure did not occur to them; it was not their way. Either their prey was vanquished or they were killed in the attempt. Those were the only choices.

At the top of a rise overlooking the cloud-enshrouded, rolling landscape of southern Irillian, the lead figure stopped. He motioned to the other, then pointed to the far southwest in a direction that would take them on a route north of the distant city of Penacles. His companion nodded, but said nothing. They had discussed the route in advance. They knew their destination and how long it would likely take to reach it. All that mattered now was getting there without being discovered, a difficult task, but not an impossible one for two with their skills.

Confident and determined, they began both the climb down the other side of the rise . . . and the final leg of their journey to the Dagora Forest.

VI.

"I STILL DO not see why we cannot just teleport to where you want to search in Legar and then leap back!" Darkhorse grumbled. In order to converse with Cabe, who rode on his back, he had twisted his head around in a manner that would have broken the neck of any true steed. Fortunately, it was dark now and they were some distance from the actual city, having materialized so far away for safety's sake. Mages were still a rare and gossip-stirring sight. The warlock wanted no interference with his mission.

Cabe sighed and adjusted the hood of the traveler's cloak he wore. The hood was the only way he could properly hide the great stretch of silver in his hair. Dyes merely washed away before they even had time to set. It was said that a G.o.d had created the mark as a symbol of his respect for the legendary Lord Drazeree, who had borne a similar streak, but if so, Cabe thought that the least the unthinking deity could have done was allow for times when a spellcaster had to hide his nature. Mages were always forced to resort to hats, cloaks, helms, and rather touchy illusion spells to obscure the silver. There were times when that made their lives tricky.

"You weren't there when the Green Dragon was struck down, Darkhorse. I don't want to go blindly into Legar. We need to move with stealth. I also want to see if I can find out any information beforehand. It's possible that not all news has made it back to Talak yet."

"You should have asked Melicard to give you the names of his spies! We could ask them and be done with it!"

"I'm sure that would've pleased the king. Now, for the last time, you'd better start behaving like a real horse. I'd like to avoid too much notice; it's possible that the wolf raiders, if they are in Legar, might also have spies in Zuu."

The shadow steed snorted and turned his head to a more savory position. Cabe relaxed a little. For a creature who had lived for thousands of years, the eternal could be very impatient at times. Tonight, he was even more restless than was normal. The warlock was certain that Darkhorse's anxiety focused around Shade. Darkhorse had done little in the past few years besides search for traces of the ageless sorcerer.

They would have to talk about this some time in the future. Whether Shade was truly dead or not, Darkhorse could not spend eternity thinking about it. He had to be made to see that there were other matters-and friends-waiting for him.

"There is the city," whispered Darkhorse. Unfortunately, his concept of whispering still resembled more of a shout.

"I see," Cabe responded quickly. "We'll have to be doubly careful. We may encounter other riders at any moment."

His ploy worked. The demon steed nodded and resumed his role of faithful horse.

To the eyes of another traveler, one who carried a good torch, that is, the two would resemble a weary rider and his large ebony stallion. Darkhorse had shrunk down to a more tolerable size, although he was still large for most breeds. Cabe, meanwhile, was clad in a simple gray outfit consisting of pants, cloth s.h.i.+rt, knee-high leather boots, and the aforementioned riding cloak. While his outfit was a bit old-fas.h.i.+oned, it was not an uncommon sight. The style was a throwback to his life near the now ruined city-state of Mito Pica, which had been destroyed by the Dragon Emperor's forces for having unknowingly secreted a young Cabe Bedlam. Many survivors had become wanderers since then, even almost two decades after the event. Hence, the warlock would look like one of the youngest ones finally grown up. Most people respected the privacy of such wanderers, especially the people of Zuu.

Cabe had never journeyed to the low, sprawling city of Zuu, possibly, he now admitted to himself, out of some small guilt. During the brief war that had been instigated by the Dragon Kings' search for him, the rather independent-minded folk of Zuu had sent a contingent of their famous horse soldiers to the aid of Penacles. The young warlock vividly recalled the band of huge blond warriors clad in leather and how they had wanted to come to his aid when airdrakes had flown down and attacked Cabe and Gwen. He especially remembered their leader, a scarred man named Blane, the second or third son of the king at that time.

Blane had died defending Penacles, but not before he had killed Duke Kyrg, the drake commander and brother to Toma. It was no surprise that Talak and Zuu were on excellent political terms with each other, not that such prevented each from having their share of spies.

Blane's brother, someone named Lanith XII, was now king, but Cabe had no intention of introducing himself to the man. If things went according to plan, he wanted to be out of the city before morning. That meant little or no sleep, but to a spellcaster of his ability, one night missed meant nothing. For the past several years, he had enjoyed a full night's slumber all but a handful of days. In truth, Cabe did not miss the sleep so much as the peace and quiet.

He gently prodded Darkhorse's sides, the signal for speed. There would be no peace and quiet tonight nor likely the next.

Zuu lay in a valley that was vaguely bowl-shaped. Around it were miles and miles of gra.s.sland. The nomadic founders of the city had chosen this location for the latter feature. Horses had been and still were the most valuable possession of any citizen of Zuu. Merchants from all over the continent came to this region to purchase the best animals.

Because of their obsession with their horses, it was not so surprising to Cabe that even in the dark Zuu resembled one endless array of stables. With few exceptions, no building generally topped more than two floors. Most of the structures had a boxy appearance that was evident even from where the warlock was. Adding to the effect was the one drawback to having business in the city: Zuu also smelled like one vast stable.

Cabe had wanted to avoid spells, for they had a way of drawing the attention of other mages, but he could already see that the odor was going to become more pungent with each successive step nearer. With a single thought, he adjusted his sense of smell. He did not go so far as to make the odor pleasant, but he made it less noticeable. That required less manipulation. Cabe disliked using sorcery to alter his form. It was there that a mage could cause himself irreparable harm; his concentration might waver just enough that his spell would go awry. There were legends of spellcasters who had died like that. Too often, the ease with which some learned magic made them too careless.

It was not long before they approached the city gates. Up close, Zuu was a well-lit city, a sign of its prosperity in the horse trade. Behind the walls, Cabe could make out some of the nearer structures. Zuu did not have high walls to protect it; the people relied on their own skills. There were few forces, either drake or human, who willingly went against the hors.e.m.e.n of Zuu. Not only were they expert riders, but they could fire arrows or throw spears with amazing accuracy even when their horses were at full gallop. More important, it was not just the men an enemy had to be wary of. Under Zuu law, every adult, male or female, was a fighter. There were many women in this city who could have stood among the finest warriors in the land. Even the children could be dangerous should a battle somehow reach behind the walls. The citizens of Zuu were of the opinion that it was never too early to teach a child how to defend his own.

It was something to consider, especially since six of those hors.e.m.e.n were now waiting for him at the gate.

They were typical of what Cabe had known. Tall, blond, and looking as if they had been riding since birth. Most of them were wearing leather pants and jerkins, the latter not entirely succeeding in covering their bronzed chests. They wore short helms with nose protectors, but otherwise no armor. Not all the inhabitants of Zuu resembled the nomadic image, but the city guards most certainly did. Many of them were likely the latest in a long family line of city guards. People here tended to follow in their parents' footsteps . . . or maybe horsetracks.

The evident leader, a somewhat heavier man with a blond and gray beard, urged his horse toward Cabe. He was followed a few steps behind by another rider who carried a torch. The other guards had their bows ready. The warlock wondered if he could teleport away fast enough if he somehow offended them. The archers of Zuu were not only accurate; they were swift.

"Welcome, stranger! What do you have to declare, eh?"

There had been the temptation to simply materialize in the midst of the city and forgo meeting the city guards, but despite its reputation for respecting the privacy of its visitors, Zuu paradoxically also liked to keep track of everyone. Had he given in to the temptation, Cabe soon might have found himself the object of several curious and suspicious soldiers. No, pa.s.sing through the front gates like a normal traveler would much better aid him in the long run.

"Only myself and my steed. A few supplies for travel, but nothing else."

The guard leader was eyeing him up and down. "You've never been to Zuu, have you, man?"

Had he done something wrong? "No."

"Hilfa." At the summons, a sentry from the back of the group rode forward. A woman. She was perhaps a year or two younger than the warlock looked, tall, and just as capable-looking if not more so than some of her companions. Modesty, Cabe saw, was not a strong point of the folk here. Hilfa wore the same outfit as her companions, which made for some distraction above the waist. She seemed unconcerned about his slight embarra.s.sment. How foreigners acted was only a concern if they broke the law.

When she was even with the guard captain, Hilfa waggled the bow in her hand, a salute of sorts to her superior.

"Give him a marker."

Reaching into a saddlebag, the woman quickly produced a small, U-shaped talisman on a chain. This she tossed to the waiting spellcaster without preamble. Cabe had to move with swiftness to catch the marker before it fell past him.

The leader pointed at the talisman. "That's your marker. Carry it with you at all times, either around your neck or in your pocket, but carry it, man. When you buy somethin' or talk to anyone from our city, produce it."

Cabe inspected it. There was a touch of magic to it, but so little it could not be meant to harm him. Unwilling to remove his hood, he thrust the marker into a belt pouch. Zuu evidently had one or more mages who worked for them. An interesting aspect he would remember for the future. How many more were there and what were they doing?

"Let him pa.s.s."

Hilfa backed her horse up, allowing the sorcerer access. As Cabe rode by, however, she reached out and put a hand on his. He looked at her. Up close, she had strong features, but not unattractive ones. Like many of the inhabitants, Hilfa looked like she was related to her companions. "That's a remarkable animal you have there. I've not seen one like that anywhere. What breed is it?"

"It's unique. A mix." Cabe had considered this problem. Folk as interested in horse breeding as these would not let a steed like Darkhorse pa.s.s through their city without some questions. Mixes were not considered as valuable as purebreds, however, so he had hoped that by calling the eternal a mix, he would be able to dampen some of that interest.

That was not the case. In the end, a good horse was a good horse to some. "Would you consider selling it?"

"I don't think he'd let me. Sorry."

She removed her hand, somewhat puzzled by his response. The gates had opened while the two of them had talked, so Cabe quickly took advantage of her silence and urged Darkhorse forward.

This was the entrance through which most of the foreign visitors first pa.s.sed and so Cabe found himself entering a bustling market still filled despite the night. Merchants from both Zuu and beyond had set up their tents along his path. Travelers from all the continent over, even far Irillian, wandered about admiring and often buying things they did not necessarily need. The two men from the seaport of Irillian, recognizable in their sailor-style s.h.i.+rts and wide, blue pants, were discussing the need for a pair of small daggers with silver handles. A merchant family wearing the bulky, elaborate garments of Gordag-Ai was sitting at a row of benches eating freshly purchased meat pies. Cabe wondered what sort of meat might be in it. He was discovering that he was now hungry enough to eat almost anything, even horse.

Soon he would eat. He had forced himself not to so that he might be able to order meals at more than one inn. From his early days, when he had been but a simple steward at the Wyvern's Head Tavern, the warlock knew that one of the best places to overhear the local rumors was a tavern or inn. Good company, food, and plenty of drink could loosen a man's tongue just as quickly as a mage's spell.

There were sure to be many such places and Cabe was prepared to visit most of them, but he wanted to find one frequented just as much by the citizenry as it was by strangers. It was more likely he would hear news from a home source than from a stranger, but he did not want to rule out the latter hope.

Finding a stable would be easier, he soon discovered. They were everywhere. Compared to even the royal stables of Penacles or Talak, these were also the cleanest. The dark-haired spellcaster finally chose one near an inn ent.i.tled Belfour's Champion. From the image painted on the sign, he gathered that the name had something to do with an actual horse once prominent with this quarter of the city.

At the stable he showed the marker to a groom, who led them to a private stall after an exchange of money. On the pretext that he desired to personally take care of his own mount, Cabe succeeded in being alone with Darkhorse.

"I like this place," the shadow steed rumbled. "They know how best to treat an animal. I should visit Zuu again in the near future!"

"They won't treat you so well if they find out it's you scaring all their other horses."

What Cabe had said was true. Around them, the other mounts were stirring, the voice of Darkhorse unnerving them. The shadowy stallion tried to speak quieter. "I wish I could enter with you, friend Cabe."

"That would certainly raise a few eyebrows and shut more than a few mouths. I don't think even the locals treat their horses that well anymore. You'd best stay here for the time being. It won't be a loss, either. This close, you should be able to pick up a number of the voices outside. You'll also have people coming and going here, too."

Darkhorse sc.r.a.ped the floor of his stall, gouging out a valley in the rock-hard dirt. He was not pleased with his end of the mission, but he understood that there was no way he could blend among people. Given time-more than they had now-the eternal might be able to copy the basic structure of a human, but he would not be able to copy their ways. A human-looking Darkhorse would still garner too much attention; despite the centuries among men, the demon steed had a rather unique thought pattern and personality. He did not and could not act like a mortal. Neither, for that matter, would he have been able to pa.s.s for an elf or any of the other races.

There was and there would always be only one Darkhorse.

The inn was surprisingly clean compared to many that Cabe had experienced. His sense of smell, despite having been dulled, was still able enough to pick up the delicious odors coming from the back. The warlock's stomach grumbled, hoping to remind him that while he had a mission here, so did it.

The interior of Belfour's Champion had much in common with many inns, of course, save that here there was no escaping the symbol of the place, the horse for which it had been named. There were small statuettes, trophies won by the selfsame steed, lining one wall. Tapestries revealing the various feats of a chestnut goliath covered most of the others. If even half of them were true, the animal had been a wonder.

Perhaps the most unusual bit of decor was the clean, polished skull that hung above the rock fireplace across from him. From the small wreath below it, he gathered that this had once belonged to the famous horse. It was, to the warlock, a peculiar way to honor even a most favored companion, but this was Zuu, after all, and it was Cabe who was the foreigner here.

Cabe found an empty bench off to one side of the eating area and sat down. Almost the second he was comfortable, a sun-haired serving girl was at his table. Unlike the guards, she was dressed in a more conventional outfit. Yet while the skirt and bodice were of a style that might have been found in any tavern across the Dragonrealm, the form barely hidden within was not. Cabe was of the opinion that there must be much to be said for the Zuu way of life; both the men and the women seemed remarkably fit.

"What can I get you?" she asked after he had revealed the marker. She had slightly elfin features, but with what could only be described as a saucy touch to them. The warlock was uncomfortably reminded of a serving girl named Deidra who had been all but able to wrap him around her finger when they had worked together in the Wyvern's Head.

"What's best? Food, I mean."