Darkhorse shimmered-and their surroundings altered. Ahead of them, a sliver of blackness appeared. The gateway from this side.
“Hold her tight!”
He need not have said anything to his friend. Cabe would have held on to Valea even at the cost of his own life if it would somehow save her.
The shadow steed leapt at the tear, which suddenly began to fade . . .
Valea screamed.
“Hush,” said a feminine voice. “You’re all right, daughter.”
“Mother?” She looked up to see not just Gwendolyn Bedlam, the elder enchantress a much more glamorous and beautiful version-so Valea thought-of herself, but her father and brother, too. The three stood over her, quite concerned. Valea lay in her plush, down bed back in the Manor. Outside, sunlight shone and birds sang merrily, all as if nothing had ever happened.
“Three days of sleep, that’s the only aftereffect I sense,” Gwen continued, pushing back some of her luxurious, fiery hair. Valea’s mother gazed to the side. “Aurim, see if there’s any sign of Darkhorse returning yet. He said he would be back by now.”
The golden-haired youth, only a few years older than Valea, nodded. “Yes, mother.” He eyed his sibling. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
Valea blinked. Generally when she and Aurim spoke, they argued. This time, however, he had looked so very serious she began to wonder just how close to death she had seemed.
Aurim suddenly vanished, a slight twinkle of stars in his wake. Possibly stronger even than his father, he had, of late, become something of a show-off. Valea found the familiarity of that situation comforting.
Then she remembered the Lords.
Her father must have read her expression. “Their realm was collapsing. Shade-Shade sacrificed himself to destroy their pattern. The chaos incinerated the lead necromancer-”
“Ephraim!” she gasped.
“Ephraim,” Cabe corrected himself. “As to the others, the last I saw, their castle, their world, was crumbling, and they were caught by their own magic. They may be no more, but I’m not counting on it.”
“Whatever the case,” Gwen interjected, “they are nothing to fear, at least for the moment.”
“No.”
But Valea no longer thought of them. She recalled her father’s other words. “Shade-he sacrificed himself?”
“Without hesitation.”
That made no sense. “But Gerrod-the-the ghost of the original Shade-he was supposed to take over and use the body for the Lords’ purposes. They had him under their control.”
“Somehow, Shade overcame him, I suppose. It’s what saved us.”
No. Valea understood enough to know that only by Gerrod’s own decision could Shade have withstood the possession. Gerrod had decided that his manic desire to live had been outweighed by what he would cause to happen afterward.
But it had not been that alone. Some part of her, some part that was and was not Valea, suddenly reminded her of Gerrod’s love of Sharissa. Sharissa would have despised what Gerrod would have become. In the end, the ghost had likely come to that conclusion, too. He had instead given Shade the opportunity to undo the necromancers’ evil and help the spirit of the woman he had loved.
“You said-” Tears wanted to flow freely from her eyes, but Valea fought them back. Tears for both aspects of one man. There was an emptiness in her heart at the sacrifices and the thought that he might be no more. “You said . . . he’s dead?”
The grim expressions on both her parents’s countenances grew. Her mother pursed her lips and quietly said, “This is Shade of whom we speak.”
So he very likely was not dead . . . but they feared what he might have become.
“Darkhorse is already searching,” Cabe added, growing more determined in his tone. “I’ve alerted the Gryphon and King Melicard of Talak. They have the resources to watch also.”
Gwendolyn Bedlam nodded. “From what I’ve gathered, he could be more terrifying than ever, my love. He is more whole now. The Lords may have unleashed a threat that would make theirs comical by comparison.”
“We won’t let him. Shade will be hunted down no matter what.”
The elder Bedlams continued to discuss the possible danger. Valea listened to them, but she did not feel the fear that they did. Instead, her heart seemed to leap to life.
He was alive.
Her parents, the others, they recalled the past all too well. But so did Valea. She recalled the past even better than them, she believed. In her memory were not only the events of Galani’s life, but a hundred and more others-all her reborn again and again, in some ways just like the warlock. More important, Valea also remembered what she had learned in the castle and that, most of all, gave her hope.
I’ve got to find him before they do, she thought. If I do . . . if I do . . . he may have a chance yet. He might become mortal again. This time he has a chance . . .
Her face a mask, she listened to her parents talk . . . and began planning.
He sat upon the winter peak, high above altitudes where most creatures could breathe. The winds whipped at his hooded form, but could not in the least dislodge him. Far, far below and some distance south, the young Dragon Emperor struggled to hold together his people. Farther on, near the base of those mountains, an aging king and his beautiful witch of a queen hoped that the dire news that they had received would not mean a return of fear to their realm. Much more south than that, where the lionbird ruled, the anxious monarch worried that his newborn son might be a target.
They all feared him. He could taste their fear. Shade looked to the horizon, looked to where the length and breadth of the Dragonrealm lay and sensed fear of him in every direction.
He had died saving them-saving her. They all knew what that meant. He had reformed, fully grown and garmented as his curse ever demanded, in the hot, fiery lands of the Hell Plains. His mind had been addled for a time-as always-but gradually cleared enough so that he could recall what had happened. He remembered his surprise at the ghost’s decision to give itself to him, not take over as planned by the Lords. He remembered memories of his far past filling him and feeling more whole than in all his monstrous existence. He remembered the choices he had made and the results, good or ill, of each.
And as his mind organized itself, he came to that point, as he always had, when either the light or the darkness seized him, directed his newest mockery of a life.
But this time . . . this time nothing happened.
This time, he felt no different than when he had looked into the eyes that had been Sharissa’s, Galani’s, and all the others-but had especially belonged to a young, arresting enchantress who was the daughter of those most likely to now seek his destruction.
He had not transformed. He had not fallen to the side of darkness as the curse demanded. His face, which he had gazed at in a river, was still but a blur, yet Shade felt the same within as he had when he had chosen to sacrifice himself for his companions-and especially her.
The warlock sat upon the mountain, knowing he would have to flee from Darkhorse’s probing spells soon, pondering this astounding turn of events.
Pondering and, for the first time in a thousand false lifetimes, hoping.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-48189b-50b1-0743-5481-18ff-4545-c87b8c
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 24.11.2011
Created using: calibre 0.8.27, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
Knaak, Richard A.
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал котор
ый защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III Page 95