Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade

by Richard A. Knaak

  Eyes formed, ice-blue eyes without pupils. Darkhorse peered down at the king, his emotions unreadable to the human. Melicard felt an urge to reach for a weapon, yet not only would a blade have been ineffective, he had purposely set both his sword and dagger to the side in order to avoid just such a reaction. He needed the eternal’s aid, if it was possible for him to gain.

  “Erini is your friend more than I,” Melicard cautiously responded. “And it’s for her sake in part that I’ve asked you here.”

  The shadowy stallion cocked his head. “She is in danger?”

  “She and the children.”

  “And not you?”

  “I am always in danger, but not as much as those who threaten my family.”

  Darkhorse laughed at his response, a thundering sound that made the king again glad that he had chosen this deeply buried place for this meeting. “Well spoken, Your Majesty! Well spoken.” All humor vanished from the eternal’s voice. “Who dares threaten her and her offspring?”

  “I can’t say for certain. I thought them legend, but that creature stank of the grave.”

  Darkhorse’s snout came within inches of Melicard’s face. The ice-blue eyes flashed dangerously. “The grave?”

  “Yes! A winged fiend like a giant bat combined with a man! It snuck into my son’s chambers despite Erini’s spells! I think—I think it served some ghouls called—”

  “The Lords of the Dead!” The shadowy steed snorted angrily. “No legend they, any more than I, Your Majesty! I have fought them and they are not to be taken lightly . . . We hoped them no more, Cabe Bedlam and I, having nearly lost everything in battling their twisted plan to make their deathly realm ascendant over that of the living!”

  It was verification of all of Melicard’s fears. “So, they are real.”

  “‘Unreal’ would be a better term, for those monstrous necromancers have long moved beyond anything remotely resembling their former selves, spellcasters with blood ties to Shade himself!”

  “Shade!” the king blurted. “He was one of them?”

  “Nay! They only share a tattered familial bond. He is anathema to them! If there is something they fear more than me, it is Shade, who knows them best.”

  The king was not comforted by that. “It makes perfect sense that he would be one of those demons! At least we are rid of—” Melicard stopped. “We are rid of the warlock, aren’t we?”

  “He will not trouble you . . .”

  The vague answer did not encourage Melicard either. However, the other matter was of more importance to him. “Darkhorse, you owe me nothing, but you care for Erini and the children. I must ask a boon from you.” When the eternal remained silent, the king pressed. “I am about to lead Talak’s forces to war in alliance with Penacles. I cannot shirk my duty, for defeat would spell disaster for my own family as well as my kingdom.”

  “It is a troubling time, Your Majesty.”

  The human swallowed, aware that what he was about to ask was far more personal than the current political situation allowed. “Erini has power, great power, but she must utilize it not only for the children, but for our subjects as well. The toll on her will be terrible, especially more so now. If there is anything you—”

  The shadowy stallion snorted. “You need ask nothing of me, Your Majesty! I will deal with the situation!”

  Relief washed through Melicard. He smiled as best his face allowed. “Thank you. I hope that someday you can forgive me for what I did.”

  “That event is long forgotten.” Darkhorse shook his head, his dark mane flying furiously. “I must go now! Rest assured, I will do all that is necessary to keep the Lords of the Dead from endangering your loved ones.”

  “Thank you—” But once more, Melicard had no chance to complete his sentence, much less express his true gratitude. The eternal simply vanished.

  The king exhaled deeply. Oddly, the chamber suddenly felt much colder. Still, Melicard was relieved with the outcome of the conversation. He had expected much more reluctance on Darkhorse’s part. Not because the stallion did not care for Erini and the children, but because there were surely other matters involving the current turmoil upon which the shadow steed had to concentrate. Darkhorse and Cabe Bedlam were close allies and the wizard would be relying on his friend in these dark days.

  But he will protect the children and her, Melicard told himself insistently. If anything happens to me, they’ll at least be safe.

  Reassured, Melicard abandoned the old dungeon. There was still much to do before the army marched. Too much.

  Yet, even aware of that, even aware he headed into war, the king felt the burdens on his shoulders lessen to a great degree.

  “HE HAS DONE exactly as you expected . . . ,” Darkhorse remarked the moment that he appeared.

  Queen Erini had been waiting pensively in the royal living chambers. Although her children were with trusted servants, she kept watch over both of them through a pair of small yellow orbs floating before her. Now, the queen dared look away long enough to deal with the eternal.

  “True to his nature,” she murmured. “Asked you despite the past you share to do him this favor.”

  “As if I would not do my best to protect you and yours!”

  Erini frowned. “But that is the point, Darkhorse. You’ve another oath to follow.”

  The towering stallion snorted in unease. “I made that promise to you before you revealed the danger your son faced! King Melicard is a man of cunning, a warrior! My powers are better directed toward protecting your children—and you—just as he asked!”

  “But you swore to me you’d do what you could to watch over him. I can protect my son and daughter and keep an eye on Talak, but I cannot assist my husband at such a distance. When he goes into battle, there’s nothing I can do for him!” Her expression turned pleading, in its way identical to that of the man he had just left. “The elfwood prevents any powerful spell from adhering to him or even remaining potent within the vicinity, and we have no mage strong enough riding with him!”

  “I have given you my word! I will not break it.”

  “Thank you.”

  The eternal eyed the orbs. “See to your own safety as well, Queen Erini. See to it as well.”

  Her attention returned to the images. A nurse sat with Rennek. A tutor showed Erini’s daughter a new song on the lute. As she observed them, the enchantress’s face paled and her eyes set dangerously. She was not so gifted as the Bedlams, but her power was to be respected, even by Darkhorse.

  He could see that it would be utter futility to again try to change her mind. They had had a heated discussion even before he had informed her of the king’s desire to meet with him in secret. Erini had been quite certain as to Melicard’s reason for the request and had wrung the promise from Darkhorse.

  You often warn me of my impetuousness, Cabe! Darkhorse thought with much frustration. You and generations before you. If I could ever learn . . .

  But he had existed long enough to know that regrets did little to change matters. Snorting again in order to briefly regain her attention, Darkhorse concluded with, “I will not forget your husband’s imminent departure! Rest assured, he will not be aware of my presence!”

  “Thank you, Darkhorse.”

  “Thank me by being careful . . .” The ebony stallion reared, then, meeting Erini’s gaze one last time, dissipated as he had done before Melicard.

  DARKHORSE MATERIALIZED IN a long-favored spot in the midst of the Dagora Forest, the great, lush expanse situated in the center of the Dragonrealm. He knew that its lord would sense his arrival, but Green would not send any servants to seek him out. The eternal had a checkered past with this Dragon King, who had proven as much a manipulator as an ally to the Bedlams. Still, Darkhorse did not intend to stay long. He needed only a moment to mull things over.

  Something did stir at his arrival, but not one of the drake lord’s minions. Slightly taller than a human and generally shaped like one, it was also feathered and had a fac
e much more akin to a bird’s—as the Gryphon’s was. Yet, there was no link between the ruler of Penacles and the Seekers. Indeed, they were enemies of old.

  A single Seeker did not bother Darkhorse, but he probed the vicinity with his senses to see if there were more. The avian proved to be the only of its ilk nearby.

  The eternal faced a quandary that he had not discussed with either the king or queen. Fiercely loyal to those he considered his friends, however brief their lives were to one whose own was endless unless he was slain, Darkhorse had acted rashly again. He had already previously promised Cabe that he would continue seeking out any trace of Shade. That should have remained his priority, yet he had let himself be swayed.

  Even I cannot be in so many places . . . and Shade must be hunted, for his own sake . . .

  He suddenly thought of Aurim, who now called the forest here his home. Estranged from his parents, he still surely understood the risk Shade presented. Yet, Aurim would also have obviously sensed the eternal’s arrival, and the fact that the younger Bedlam had not come to Darkhorse indicated too well that the wizard wanted nothing to do with him.

  A faint presence reached out to him, its link to the eternal so tenuous that at first he thought he’d imagined it. Only its familiarity made Darkhorse pay it any mind, for it had ties to the son of Cabe.

  Valea? He sought out the tendril of thought, its desperation apparent even during that brief encounter. Yet, Darkhorse had spoken with her not that long ago, in the safety of the Manor itself.

  The contact did not renew. Giving up, Darkhorse tried to touch the thoughts of Valea’s brother. Aurim Bedlam! Whatever your troubles with your parents, your sister is in need! I have felt her call for help! Heed me!

  But there was only silence. Either Aurim was not in Dagora or he chose not to listen. The stallion hoped it was the former but had no time to consider the matter.

  Again came the brief, disjointed sensation that Valea was in danger. Darkhorse managed to focus on it a bit better . . . and sensed that it came from somewhere to the north . . . somewhere beyond even Talak.

  It was all he had to go on. In his mind, there was no time to contact the Bedlams. Darkhorse seized on the second contact and vanished.

  IN THE WAKE of the shadow steed’s departure, the single Seeker returned to the spot. His shape suddenly twisted, becoming a thing also winged but more foul, more a mockery of life.

  The batlike creature peered at where the eternal had last stood. Its eyes shimmered, became those of another being.

  Through the eyes of the Necri, Kadaria surveyed all . . . and was very satisfied.

  VIII

  PLANS IN MOTION

  VALEA FADED INTO and out of consciousness. Each time she regained any hint of sense, the enchantress called out to the one being she thought might hear her. Even her parents would have been hard-pressed to notice her brief cries for help. Only Darkhorse might be able to hear her. Might . . .

  Clinging to that manic hope, Valea again called out to the eternal. He kept his senses well attuned to the Bedlams, the dearest of his “ephemeral” companions. She prayed that he would note her call. Her link to him was strong, but trapped as she was, Valea knew that any call would be all but imperceptible.

  The reason for Kyl’s betrayal continued to elude her. He had been raised by her parents, had grown up beside Valea and her brother. Why is he doing this? Why?

  She could even less understand why Ursa, gentle Ursa, would have aided Kyl, even if he was emperor. Ursa, her sister in spirit, if not blood.

  The enchantress fell unconscious again, then stirred. How long since the last moment of lucidity, Valea could not say. No one, not even Darkhorse, had as yet come to her aid. There was no hope unless she could save herself.

  I am the daughter of Cabe Bedlam and the Lady of the Amber! Valea managed to think, drawing strength from that knowledge. The ability to manipulate vast power was their legacy to her. She might not be Aurim, but she was a Bedlam!

  The lines of force became visible in her mind. Thought was instant action; Valea drew the energies into her with only one thing in mind: freedom.

  An incredible heat erupted from her.

  A cry filled her ears, but she could not tell if it was her own. The world flashed back into existence.

  Falling to her knees, the enchantress felt the heat immediately replaced by sharp cold. A faint illumination enabled her to make out the interior of a cavern, a small one by comparison to that of the emperor’s sanctum.

  A moan arose from beside her. Ursa lay sprawled and at first Valea feared that she had badly injured the other female. Kneeling down, she looked for any blood or bruise. Ursa appeared whole and a quick wave of Valea’s palm over the drake revealed no unseen damage.

  Rising again proved more difficult than the enchantress could have imagined. Vertigo threatened to overtake her. She fell against a crooked stalagmite and fought to stay awake.

  Tromping feet warned her she was no longer alone. Two drake warriors came charging into the cavern from a passage to the right. What intrigued and disturbed Valea despite her condition was that their armored hides were black.

  She waved a hand toward the nearest. He went flying back, colliding with another stalagmite.

  The second began to transform, his body swelling and distorting midleap. While the cavern was not massive, it could more than handle a full-grown dragon.

  But the stalactites above reached down, seized the half-transformed creature, and pulled him to the ceiling. Despite the drake’s squirming, the stalactites held him tight and also prevented him, at least momentarily, from finishing his change.

  The effort cost Valea. Light-headed, she weaved forward a few steps.

  Another moan arose from Ursa. The female drake stirred.

  Taking a deep breath, Valea thought about the last place that she had seen her parents. The enchantress did not know if she had the focus to reach them, but the fear that she might pass out at any moment drove her to try.

  The world around her swirled madly.

  DARKHORSE ENTERED the Tyber Mountains, skirting around the path that led directly to the Dragon Emperor. He sensed that Valea had called from somewhere near and for a moment had even thought that he had felt her presence, but suddenly it was as if she no longer existed. The eternal did not want to think what that might mean and hoped that the younger Bedlam had either been shielded from his mind or sent far from her previous location. In either of those cases, it would not take him long to again pick up the trail.

  He paused atop a mountain peak and sought out some trace of the enchantress. What he sensed instead was movement near Kivan Grath. The magical stench of drake was strong, more so than Darkhorse would have imagined.

  The shadowy stallion leapt to another peak that brought him nearer to Kivan Grath. He studied the landscape below, finding the stark emptiness even starker than usual. Darkhorse snorted. With magic born far beyond this realm, the eternal probed the rocky tableau.

  Despite his searching, the landscape remained still and deserted. Yet, Darkhorse thought that somehow the region insisted too much that it was empty.

  He raised a hoof with the intention of charging down to investigate when ever so briefly he sensed a faint trace of Valea Bedlam’s recent presence. With it, there also came the hint of her trail.

  Darkhorse wheeled and charged in that direction. He was certain that there would be time to report whatever mystery surrounded Kivan Grath to Cabe once Valea was recovered. The wizard would certainly see his daughter’s safety as the greater priority.

  Satisfied with his reasoning, Darkhorse raced from the Tyber Mountains. The new trail led south, likely beyond Talak. The eternal felt some guilt at abandoning the northern kingdom and his promise, but assured himself that he would return to the king before Melicard had led his army very far from home.

  The eternal’s pace swiftly led him south in a direction that ran along the western edge of the Hell Plains. Darkhorse could sense the movement of the
Red Dragon’s army toward Penacles, movement that grew nearer as he progressed. The Red Dragon was pushing toward a route that would take him into part of Wenslis, the rain-drenched domain of the Storm Dragon. While the lord of Wenslis would not slow the march, the marshy realm itself would. That would surely buy both Penacles and King Melicard valuable time.

  Once, it would have been tempting to Darkhorse to harass the drakes, wreak havoc on their ranks in order to slow them further. To do so now might risk Valea, though.

  Even as he thought of her, the eternal again sensed traces of her trail. Darkhorse veered southwest and felt the trace strengthen.

  Mito Pica loomed ahead, but Darkhorse found the path turning east of the ruins. The ebony stallion gratefully left the razed city and its haunting memories. In private moments, Cabe had admitted that he often dreamed of Mito Pica’s destruction, even though he himself had been kept from that night of terror. Yet, the wizard could describe those dreams so graphically that both believed that Cabe was somehow tied to the spirit—for lack of a better word—of Mito Pica. The city both lived and suffered through its last remaining inhabitant.

  The wizard’s nightmares were forgotten as Valea’s magical trace grew stronger and stronger. Darkhorse sensed her anxiety, her growing fear.

  Yet, just before he would have reached what should have been her location, the eternal hesitated. Darkhorse heard Cabe’s voice saying, Don’t leap into things! Beware traps!

  The shadowy horse probed ahead. Suddenly, all hint of Valea Bedlam vanished. Instead, Darkhorse felt a sudden swelling of energies that swept in his direction with obvious purpose.

  Darkhorse moved backward with as much ease as forward, his head shrinking into his body as his tail formed into a new head. Now facing the direction in which he had traveled, he galloped faster, easily leaving the foul energies behind.

  And, thus, running full into the true trap.

  Streams of silver energy cut through the eternal from every angle. Darkhorse was severed a hundred times over, each fragment of him then drawn toward the ground. He shrieked as he felt the pieces of his very being sealed in one tiny faceted prison after another. Literally disjointed, the ebony stallion could sense nothing around him but his own intense agony.