Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04

by Richard A. Knaak

  "What happened?" Gwendolyn Bedlam asked.

  Aurim refused to look at anyone. "They wanted to see me perform some sorcery. Just something little. Queen Erini has power, but she doesn't use it unless necessary and there's really no other spellcaster in Talak. I . . . I didn't think I'd have any problem with something so little, but I brought them out here just to make sure there was enough room."

  "What did you try to do?" The Gryphon's tone had softened.

  "I took a chess piece from your set and—"

  "From my set? The set that was sitting in the palace library?"

  "Yes." Aurim tried to back away, unnerved by the Gryphon's sudden anxiety.

  "That set is ancient. Possibly magical in some ways. Very intricately carved. I was a fool to leave it out like that, but I never thought—"

  Darkhorse recalled the chess set and although he had suspicions concerning its lost origins, he decided now was not the time to mention them. What was important was that the Gryphon did not realize how his words were cutting deeper and deeper into the young mage. Even Darkhorse, who would ever observe the workings of humanity from far away, could see that the more Aurim's confidence sank, the worse it would be for him in the long run.

  Perhaps the king saw this also, for he then added, "But I can hardly condemn someone for something so little when I consider some of the things that I did during my life. What did you do with the chess piece?"

  Brightening a little, Aurim explained how he had taken the chess piece and led the two young women outside. From the way he talked, Darkhorse gathered that Aurim was attracted to both, but more to Vergoth's elder daughter. Cabe's son seldom had the opportunity to associate with one attractive female near his age, much less two. He had grown a little reckless, telling them how he had animated things before, including, once, a number of stick men. Of course, Aurim had failed to mention that they, like so many other things he had animated, had gotten out of his control. This time, however, he had been certain that he had the proper concentration.

  Everything had gone well at first. The power was his to control. He had fed it into the chess piece as his two admirers had watched in fascination. The figurine, which he had chosen at random, had started to shiver as if about to move.

  Then a backlash of energy had thrown Aurim to the ground. That was when the practice field had suddenly come to life.

  "I don't understand what went wrong! Everything was going just as it should have!" He looked at his parents. "I swear I kept my concentration perfect. It should have either moved just like I wanted or stood still. I don't know why the spell backlashed into the practice field."

  "It may have been your choice of items," his mother answered. "If, as you said, Gryphon, the chess set contains some trace of power, then perhaps that's what caused Aurim's spell to go awry."

  The lionbird rubbed the bottom of his beak. "You may be right. I'll investigate it. I've always meant to, but I just never got around to it. Perhaps the time's overdue." To Aurim, he added, "In the future, though, I'd like to be asked for permission before you attempt to dazzle attractive young women with your magical skills."

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "Where is the chess piece now?"

  "I . . . don't know." Aurim looked around. "I don't see it, but it must be somewhere in the yard. I'll look for it—"

  "Never mind. I'll hunt for it myself later. If you did succeed in animating the piece, it could be anywhere." To the elder Bedlams and Darkhorse, the king remarked, "I still need to discuss those other matters with the three of you, but I think it might be good if I first talked to my queen about what else can be done to smooth things over with Baron Vergoth. Troia's become quite friendly with Queen Erini and through her has come to know the baroness. She should be able to give me more insight on what to expect from Vergoth's wife. I know that the baroness has much influence with her husband. In the meantime, I'd like you all to stay as guests. Your usual chambers are available for you and your family, Cabe, if you'd care to use them."

  "We'd be honored, Gryphon," returned the sorcerer. "Valea is overseeing the Manor while we're gone and I think she's been looking forward to proving that she can do as well as her mother and me. She's not often had the opportunity to oversee things on her own."

  "I'm certain that she'll do an excellent job. She's grown up quite a bit since Kyl's ascension."

  Unspoken but understood by all, including the shadow steed, was that there had been some fear that the Bedlams' daughter would have a difficult time shaking off the emotional turmoil caused by the young Dragon Emperor's attempt to seduce her and then his brother Grath's betrayal of her to Toma. However, instead of caving in to the damage to her heart, Valea had turned around and seemed to grow to adulthood overnight. Her power was already at a more advanced stage than her mother—who knew better about these things— had predicted, and her handling of her skills was already superior in some ways to that of her older brother.

  Thinking of that, Darkhorse cast a quick glance at the youth. Aurim frowned slightly, but the moment he realized that someone was watching him, the frown disappeared. The younger Bedlam suddenly found the ceiling of the hall diverting.

  There is more turmoil in the lad than we have suspected. Should I mention this to Cabe?

  While he was trying to decide what the proper human course of action would have been, the Gryphon and the Bed- lams evidently came to the end of their conversation. The king bowed to the spellcasters, something he did for few others, then departed.

  Cabe sighed. "Aurim, I—"

  "I'm going into the city." The golden-haired figure started to walk off.

  "Wait, Aurim!" The elder mage reached out.

  His wife took hold of his arm and whispered, "No, Cabe. Let him go. Let him burn away some of his frustration. He's been like this before. You know that he won't do anything foolish."

  "I don't like to leave him alone, though, Gwen. I know what it's like to be so uncertain about one's abilities. Maybe if I walk with him—"

  "And what if you only succeed in reminding him that your abilities and your handling of them were enhanced by the memories that your grandfather Nathan instilled in you? You had some benefits to your training that few ever had, you'll have to admit."

  "I did at that, but I still don't like leaving him alone."

  Darkhorse brightened. He had wanted to help his friends, but until now had not known how to go about it. "Have no fear, my dear companions! There's no need for your son to be on his own! I will join him, be his companion during his troubled times, and, coincidentally, keep him from any mischief!"

  Both spellcasters immediately opened their mouths, no doubt to express their gratitude to him, but now that the decision had been made, Darkhorse wanted not to waste a single moment. He wanted to join Aurim before he left the palace.

  Darkhorse felt a surge of power and recognized it immediately as the work of the younger Bedlam. Aurim had decided to transport himself out of the palace rather than walk or ride. The shadow steed immediately followed suit. When focused by a great desire, such as escaping his parents after a debacle like today's, the golden-haired mage's ability to properly complete his spells increased dramatically. If he could only focus as well when not so upset . . .

  The hallway of the Gryphon's palace faded away, to be replaced immediately by a busy street in the market district of Penacles. People whirled around as Darkhorse materialized, some screaming and others turning so pale they might have been denizens from the realm of the Lords of the Dead. The crowd around him melted away, leaving only one other figure besides the huge ebony stallion.

  Aurim turned around and looked up into the pupilless, icy blue eyes of his friend. "Get away from me before I kill you."

  Chapter Three

  "What's that?" The eternal could scarcely believe what he had heard. "What are you saying, Aurim? You are distraught! You cannot mean such a ridiculous thing!"

  "Don't I?" Aurim approached the shadow steed heedless of the spectacle t
he two of them were creating. "Look at me, Darkhorse! Look what I did! I nearly killed Adelina and Mersi and all I was trying to do was show off for them! I should have known better. I can't control my powers; I'll never control my powers! Better I stay at the Manor for the rest of my life before I injure or even kill someone I care about . . . including you!"

  "I am a bit more durable than you think, my friend."

  "I saw how you had to struggle in the practice field. I could've killed you. I know that."

  Darkhorse looked around at the still startled crowd. Penacles was an enlightened city, thanks in great part to the efforts of both the Gryphon and the Bedlams, but watching a sorcerer argue with a creature out of legend was too much for most of the folks around them. He tried to think what Cabe would do.

  "Aurim, there is an inn nearby run by a man named Gullivan. It is a place where the students from your parents' school often go and one where even I am considered . . . less of a curiosity now. Let us go there and talk this out. You can find some drink and I . . . I can listen."

  The human calmed a little. He looked around at the rapt audience, then visibly pulled himself together. "All right, but you better take us there. If I try another spell, I could leave a gaping hole in this part of Penacles."

  That was hardly likely, but Darkhorse did not want to become entangled in another argument concerning Aurim's fear of his own powers. That could wait until they were at Gullivan's.

  It took the slightest effort to transport the pair of them from the street to the interior of Gullivan's inn. A few faces looked up at them in surprise and one serving woman gasped, but the overall reaction to their astonishing appearance was far more reserved than it had been outside. Months of dealing with the students of the fledgling school of sorcery, not to mention visits from the shadow steed on rare occasions, had steeled most of the regulars. The Gryphon also paid Gullivan a fairly good amount of money to tolerate the antics of the students and their possible effect on other business, although any serious incident was to be reported to either the king or the Bedlams immediately.

  Cabe had once informed Darkhorse that Gullivan's inn had actually benefited from its unique clientele in an unexpected way. Many newcomers to the city found the thought of seeing the students or even possibly Cabe Bedlam himself enticing enough to risk any magical mischief the practicing spellcasters might unleash. Even now, a pair of Irillian merchants, their bluish, wide-legged sea garb the newest rage in their kingdom but rather out of place here, watched with open fascination the arrival of the two newcomers. Feeling a bit mischievous, Darkhorse looked at them and winked. They stiffened, then leaned forward and whispered to one another rapidly. The shadow steed studied them, deciding that they were what they seemed and not actually spies for the Blue Dragon. While a treaty existed between Irillian By the Sea and Penacles, it was not unheard of for agents of both kingdoms to circulate around. One never knew what information might be needed if a treaty was later broken and war was declared.

  Of the other five or so humans in the room, two were students he had noted several times. They watched with interest until a look from Darkhorse made them return to their own conversation. The remainder consisted of two serving women, one of them Gullivan's niece, and the innkeeper himself. While Gullivan's niece was used to strange sights and only smiled at the new pair, the other woman, obviously new, was already retreating to the back room.

  Gullivan, a former soldier, as were many in his present trade, was a muscular man just beginning to thicken at the waist. He was only slightly older than Cabe Bedlam, but, lacking the sorcerer's abilities, looked more like the master mage's father. What little hair remained on his head made him resemble a monk until one noticed the scars on his face and his arms.

  "Darkhorse . . . and . . . it's Master Aurim, isn't it?"

  "Greetings to you, Gullivan!" The first time the ebony stallion and the ex-soldier had met, they had, by mutual consent, dispensed with the titles they generally used for all others. No Lord Darkhorse or Master Gullivan. Darkhorse liked the man although they did not see one another that often.

  "Hello, Master Gullivan." Aurim turned from the innkeeper and, after a study of the interior, located a booth far away from the rest of the people. It was a wide one, but hardly wide enough for Darkhorse in his present form. Nonetheless, the eternal made no attempt to either transform himself or request Aurim to change booths. The youth was still sensitive. The stallion settled with standing next to the table.

  The door to the back room opened and a brawny but younger version of Gullivan walked out. "Zaysha said that there was a horse in the place, Father! What could she mean—" His eyes alighted on the shadow steed. "Gods!"

  "It's all right, Pietr. You haven't been here for any of his visits. This is the legendary Darkhorse."

  "Darkhorse, but he's just a . . . no, I guess he isn't, is he?" Pietr shook his head. "I never know what to expect in this place. I'm sorry, M-Master Darkhorse."

  "Simply call me Darkhorse, young human, and I have taken no offense."

  "My son, Darkhorse. Been away for a few years. The other woman is his wife. She's from a coastal village to the south where the weather's been the most she ever had to worry about."

  "I'd better go explain," Pietr added, already retreating into the back.

  A brief smile lit Aurim's features. Darkhorse chuckled. Aurim quickly looked down.

  "Come now, Aurim! Surely there is no reason to continue feeling so terrible! It was a minor thing. No one was hurt. The baron has kept his daughters under his protective arm for all their lives; a little adventure is good for them."

  "A little adventure? Is that what you call what happened? It could've been a disaster . . . it was a disaster!"

  "Hardly that, but the point is, it is over and all is well, Aurim! You need not worry. You simply need more time!"

  Aurim slammed his fist on the table, causing the Irillian merchants to briefly look at them again. Gullivan immediately blocked their view, asking them if they required anything else, then came over to his new customers.

  "Did you care for anything, Master Aurim? On the house for you and your family; that's the way I set things. I owe your folks for a lot of business."

  "Nothing, thank you."

  "If you change your mind . . ." Gullivan retreated without asking Darkhorse if he desired anything. By now he understood that Darkhorse did not eat.

  "Now perhaps we can talk a little." The shadow steed paused, however, noticing a peculiar expression on his young companion's face.

  "I'm sorry. I don't really want to talk. Why didn't you just leave me alone? All I wanted to do was walk around for a little while until I could bring myself to face my parents or the baron's family. Is that asking too much, Darkhorse?"

  "Your parents were concerned about you, Aurim, and as both their friend and yours, I thought I would join you on this walk! Surely I am no great bother! I will walk or stand quietly by as you work matters out in your head. You will hardly even notice that I am nearby!"

  "I think the fleeing crowds would keep reminding me," the youth snapped. A moment later his expression became apologetic. "I didn't mean it to sound so severe, Darkhorse, but you know how most folks react to you. They didn't have the fortune to grow up knowing you as I did. You're still the demon steed of yore, the monster only their king and the wondrous wizards Bedlam can control."

  "Is that what they think of me?" He laughed. "I would have been disappointed if they thought any other way."

  "The point is, I can hardly relax if you're with me. I need time to wander around, think for myself." Aurim's tone grew more imploring. "Darkhorse, I hardly ever get to see anything other than the Manor unless I'm with Mother and Father in Penacles or Talak . . . and I rarely get to see much of either kingdom save the royal grounds. My parents have been through so much, seen so much—"

  "And I daresay they would like you to avoid much of what they had to fight through, young one. You and your sister have also had your share of excitemen
t. Let us not forget that Toma lived among you and your family for a long time without anyone realizing that he was not your tutor Benjin Traske. I am not completely versed in the desires of humans and I doubt that I ever will be, but most would find your adventures more than sufficient to last them their lifetime . . . even if it may be a sorcerer's lifetime of three hundred years."

  "I've been doing some thinking, though." The young spellcaster paused and glanced briefly at the two students.

  Darkhorse followed his gaze and saw that once again they had been studying the two newcomers. Darkhorse supposed that they were in awe of him, not an uncommon event. He decided that some time soon he would visit the school again and give all the students the benefit of his centuries of peerless wisdom. Surely no one had a view of Dragonrealm sorcery to equal his . . . even if his own abilities followed a different path than those of a spellcaster native to this world.

  "I think I do need to be on my own for a time," Aurim continued. He leaned nearer. "All the teaching, all the tutoring, can't do for me what being out in the real world can. If I was on my own for a little, I think that maybe I would be better able to focus. I'd be less nervous each time I attempted some spell. I would."

  Aurim on his own. Did his parents know of this desire? "And how long have you had this notion? Did you come to this conclusion after the incident in the practice field?"

  "Actually, I've been thinking about it for some time on and off. It came back to me while you were talking with Gullivan and his son. I realized that I shouldn't be dwelling in pity, but trying to overcome my difficulties. That's what Father and Mother have always preached and I know that Great-grandfather Nathan believed the same as Father. Even . . . even Grandfather Azran would've agreed with them on that."