"Ahead, Darkhorse," Cabe muttered. "By that small open area behind those trees."
He was already aware of the location, having sensed even before Cabe the strong presence of the spell. Again, Dark- horse thought that there was a familiar signature to it. He had confronted the creator of the spell in the past . . . but where?
Then a feminine voice whispered, "Get away! Not here!"
Startled, Darkhorse turned toward the voice. As he did, one of his hind legs touched what felt like the branch of a tree, only there should have been no tree, not even a bush, at that location.
An intense pressure closed in on Darkhorse from all sides, squeezing him with such force that it grew more and more difficult to maintain his form. Darkhorse grunted, fighting as the incredible pressure threatened to squeeze him into a shapeless mass.
A cry alerted the shadow steed to his rider's plight. Cabe was caught in the same trap and he did not have the malleability of form to survive for very long. The eternal was not even certain that he could survive very long. This was like no spell trap he had ever encountered.
It was already futile to retain his equine shape. Darkhorse drew his legs inward and then collapsed his upper torso. His struggling companion fell with it. The shadow steed immediately enveloped the sorcerer, shaping himself into a soft, spherical cell that would, for the moment at least, provide Cabe with some protection from the spell.
His head was the last vestige of his equine shape that he discarded. The snout retracted quickly until only the pupilless eyes and a slash that had been his mouth remained. His new shape would afford him a little extra time, but unless he found some way to disrupt the trap, both he and Cabe were doomed.
There was one other thing he could do for the sorcerer, Darkhorse realized, but even a death as hideous as what the pair of them faced would have been preferable to the human. Cabe had witnessed Darkhorse absorbing his enemies and it was a sight that the spellcaster had clearly abhorred.
There must be something! I am Darkhorse! There is nothing from this realm that can hold me! Yet . . . that was not entirely true. There had been other traps, other spells, that had nearly done him in. Somehow he had always escaped. This time, though . . .
Despite his best efforts, the pressure continued to squeeze him into a smaller and smaller ball. Before long, he would be too small for Cabe to survive.
In the midst of it, Darkhorse sensed an emanation that made no sense. It was his own power, yet it worked against him. It was as if he had designed this trap himself. That was foolish, though, no doubt the product of his rattled senses.
The pressure increased. Unable to withstand the added pressure, the eternal shrank yet again. Now he sensed the sorcerer's new discomfort. Cabe had folded himself up as best he could, but that was no longer sufficient. Darkhorse felt Cabe make one aborted attempt to disrupt the trap, but it held firm.
And so I shall discover what death means to me! I shall see if I, too, am granted an afterlife! He doubted the latter. Having been created in the endlessness of the empty dimension called the Void, he was not at all like the creatures who were born in the world of the Dragonrealm. When he perished, Darkhorse suspected that he would simply cease to exist.
For being so foolish, for failing to save his dearest friend, he expected nothing better.
The pressure increased yet more . . . then decreased just as the eternal was about to collapse. Seizing advantage of the shift, Darkhorse expanded as quickly as he could, trying to wreak what havoc he could on the spell. It continued to weaken and as it did, he pressed harder.
As suddenly as it had been sprung, the spell trap dissipated.
Free at last, he remained still, not even attempting to reshape himself. The eternal shifted his gaze and caught a glimpse of long golden hair in the darkness. Again he sensed a familiar magical signature, but he was too weak to give chase. Besides, Darkhorse was suddenly very certain that it was through her doing that the deadly spell trap had abruptly faltered. Only from the outside could anyone have affected such a sinister snare.
But why had she saved them . . . or warned them in the first place?
Unfolding as an oyster might, Darkhorse inspected the still form of his companion. He knew that Cabe still lived, but what condition was the human in?
At first the sorcerer did not move, but when Darkhorse prodded Cabe's mind with a gentle magical probe, his companion immediately stirred.
"Dark—Darkhorse?" Cabe awkwardly rose to his knees. He blinked, then stared in visible amazement at the peculiar shape of the eternal. The latter made no attempt to resume his equine form. What mattered most was whether the human was injured or not.
"How do you feel, Cabe? Are you well?"
"Well pressed," muttered the sorcerer. He touched his side, immediately wincing. "I think a rib . . . may be cracked. I could fix . . . this. . . eventually. . . but I'll need s-some time."
A horn blared. Darkhorse heard men calling out and horses moving. "Time is not something we have, it seems! A wonder they did not arrive sooner than this! We were held—"
"No more than . . . a few seconds, although I agree that it seemed like much . . . much longer." Cabe grimaced. "If they have any more spells at . . . their command 1-like this, I don't think that I can fight them j-just now, Darkhorse."
"On that I must unhappily agree, Cabe." The eternal attempted a limb. It was of the proper length, but rough-hewn, as if some artist had just begun work on a sculpture. It was proof enough, however, that Darkhorse could resume a shape capable of carrying his companion to safety. He adjusted his form immediately, gingerly raising his injured friend up.
Cabe seized hold of his mane. Given time, the sorcerer would be able to heal himself, but with Lanith's men approaching, all the pair could do was retreat.
His first movements were ungainly. Darkhorse had to struggle to recall the proper coordination of his limbs. The more he moved, though, the smoother his movements became.
Unfortunately, the delay allowed the first of the riders to reach them. Two warriors, one bearing a torch and the other a bow, urged their mounts toward the duo. A third horseman followed, sword in hand.
Darkhorse felt Cabe draw upon power. Dirt swirled up into the air, blinding men and mounts. The horses struggled against their masters, not at all willing to ride into the magical storm.
"Ride . . . Darkhorse!" Cabe gasped, his voice sounding more and more ragged. The spellcaster slumped against the re-formed neck of his comrade. "Ride!"
The shadowy stallion would have preferred to fight these first attackers off, but while he probably would have survived, he was not so certain about Cabe. He turned in the direction of the Dagora Forest, knowing that the best way to lose them would be among the thick foliage. Still weak, it was impossible for Darkhorse to transport the two of them away, but he had no doubt that he could outpace the patrol's mounts. They were, after all, only mortal steeds . . .
That thought came back to haunt him a moment later as a long row of flickering torches and dark, rapidly moving figures to the south warned him that a large patrol sought to cut them off from the safety of the forest. The riders moved with such precision and planning that Darkhorse wondered whether they somehow could read his thoughts. He increased his pace as best he could, but between his need to keep an eye on the injured sorcerer and his own weariness, the eternal found that outracing the horsemen of Zuu was a greater challenge than expected.
A fiery arrow shot past his muzzle, striking the ground no more than a few feet from him. His fear for Cabe's safety increased a hundredfold. Darkhorse sent a mental probe to his comrade, but the thoughts he received were jumbled. The sorcerer was alive, but barely conscious. It was all the human could do to maintain hold. Darkhorse shaped himself so as to better keep Cabe from slipping, but could do nothing to protect the sorcerer should the archer fire any more of the deadly bolts.
The riders continued to close. Everything appeared to be working as if someone had planned to capture or kill the shadow
steed and his friend. Had they really known that the duo was here or had they simply expected them?
From somewhere ahead came the touch of another mind. A female. Just a few feet more. I can help you, then. You must turn a little to the right, though! Hurry!
To the right would take him even nearer to the oncoming riders, many of whom were evidently expert bowmen even on horseback judging by the increasing number of bolts that assailed him. Darkhorse almost demurred, but at the last moment decided to take the risk. He only hoped that he was not being played for the fool. The stallion altered course, at the same time pushing forward with what strength he had left. The spell trap had taken too much out of him; he had not felt so weak in decades.
Directly ahead, the woman informed him. Only a few yards more.
Her last words confused him. He was still far from the forest and there appeared to be nothing in sight. Darkhorse could not even sense any sorcery.
That was what made the hole that swallowed them a moment later even more surprising.
Chapter Five
Darkhorse stood in the midst of a picturesque field of lush, high green grass that covered the sloping landscape to the horizon. Several trees of different species stood tall among the grass, islands in an emerald sea. Birds flew among the branches, singing and darting about without care. Overall, the pastoral scene was a sight that should have gladdened the heart of any who came to this place.
The shadow steed could only think of how much danger he and Cabe might be in from this supposedly tranquil land.
Where was the night? Where was the moon? According to the sun's position it was roughly an hour after dawn. The shadow steed did not like the abrupt changes. Only sorcery could have twisted his world so much, making night into day.
Yet even the shift from darkness to light did not bother him as much as the presence of the gently swaying grass. Each blade that touched his legs made him want to jump back.
"It won't harm you," said the familiar feminine voice. "It won't harm anyone but certain drakes. You can thank your sorcerer friend for that."
A human female now stood among the tall grass. Despite being clad in a simple brown and white peasant outfit, the newcomer was impressive. She filled the blouse and bodice in a manner that Darkhorse knew would have garnered the attention of any male other than a blind one. Her features were slightly elfin, but a bit more full, more human. She had hair almost as golden as that of Aurim, save that hers appeared natural whereas his had been altered by an early juvenile attempt at sorcery. There was no visible streak of silver in her tresses, but he could sense that she was most definitely a sorceress or witch.
Her eyes glittered, but when the shadow steed tried to identify the color, he found it impossible. Sometimes they appeared emerald, sometimes golden, and sometimes . . . sometimes they were as red and narrow as those of a drake warrior. Who was this woman?
"I'm sorry," she added, smiling mischievously. "The blink hole wasn't supposed to work like that. I thought for a while that I'd lost you, but then it finally opened on this side."
"Finally?" Darkhorse snorted. "If that was a blink hole, I do not think that I have ever seen another one that took hours to cross through!" He looked again at the sun. "Is it truly the next day?"
"Yes." The smile faded. "But we can talk about that after I've taken care of him. Let me get him off of you."
"I think not!" He backed a few steps away, glancing quickly around at the grass. It did nothing but sway gently in the light breeze.
"I know what you're thinking. These are no longer the Barren Lands, as you can see, demon steed." She smiled again. "Cabe Bedlam is responsible for that. It's known that he and the Brown Dragon, the savage drake lord who ruled here, rode into this desolate region and only one of them departed alive. Sometime shortly after that, the grass and trees sprouted from the parched soil and everything became as it had been before the Turning War caused the creation of the Barren Lands in the first place. Cabe Bedlam brought life back to this domain. He'd hardly be in danger from it."
"Perhaps, perhaps not, human! This may no longer be the Barren Lands, true, but this is hardly an idyllic field! Among the green hills and oh-so-lovely trees of this new wonderland lie the bones of most of the drakes of clan Brown! This grand pasture strangled them to death, little sorceress! Every one of them! It took from them to build this deadly paradise and I do not doubt that it hungers still! Where did you think that it got the sustenance to revive itself, hmmm?"
Now her eyes briefly flashed crimson again. "I understand what happened, perhaps even better than you. The spell worked against the drakes of clan Brown because it was their master who tried to sacrifice your friend. He wanted the same results, but by using the blood of the grandson of the Dragon Master who'd caused the creation of the Barren Lands in the first place. The land is at peace now, though." She reached out a hand. Several of the stalks twisted against the wind to gently caress her palm. "I know. I've lived here long enough."
"Then you are foolhardy." Nonetheless, Darkhorse knew that he really did not have any choice but to allow her to treat his companion. Hours might have passed for the rest of the realm, but for Cabe and him, it had only been moments. Cabe could not help himself and Darkhorse was too weak to do much more. He could neither transport them to Penacles nor safely attempt to heal his companion's injuries. The female had been helpful so far. Perhaps it was taking a risk, but the eternal had to trust in her.
He would be watching everything she did, however. If even her slightest action seemed questionable . . .
"Very well. Take care of him . . . but know that I will be watching!"
"I'm sure you will." She waited for Darkhorse to kneel, then, without the slightest sign of fear of him, she carefully pulled Cabe from his back.
The grass moved toward the sorcerer, but just as Darkhorse was about to act, he saw that the blades had massed under his companion and were aiding the female in lowering Cabe to the ground. Those blades that were no longer needed retreated while others slipped under to form what appeared to be a soft bed.
"It's fortunate that you shielded him when you did. He has at least two cracked ribs, but I don't think much more than that," she whispered. Her hands moved upward, the fingertips gently touching the spellcaster's chest. "But his body's strong. He's in very nice form."
The tone of her voice suggested that her comment was not entirely clinical, but Darkhorse let it pass. Now that he saw her with Cabe, he suddenly knew who she was—and that knowledge disturbed him. Their previous encounter remained in his mind for one very good reason. It had taken place in Zuu.
"Step away from him"—the name she had used previously sprang to mind—"Tori."
She obeyed, not quite so confident now that he knew her identity. "We never really met. You shouldn't know me."
"I know you from a glimpse and also from detecting your presence when first you tried to seduce Cabe Bedlam. You are from Zuu, witch! You are one of Lanith's dogs!"
The last seemed to stir resentment in her. "I'd never be one of Lanith's puppets! I leave that to Saress and that popinjay Ponteroy! I'd never have anything to do with any of them!"
They might have sunken deeper into the argument, but then Cabe stirred. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to turn Darkhorse's concern to the more immediate problem. "I am taking him back to Penacles! Move away!"
"I won't. Look at you, Darkhorse. You might be able to knock me aside, but you're still too weak to travel by any other means than running That spell trap was designed specifically for you. It had to be. I was trying to see what it and the others were for—"
"Others?" He had sensed nothing.
She gave him a knowing smile. "Others. The area around the castle is dotted with them, but I've seen riders and their mounts pass through the traps without disturbing them. Only when you came across a trap did it spring. It was meant for you, demon steed, even if it also caught your friend in the process." The sorceress returned her attention to Cabe. "Now let
me take care of him before his injuries grow worse."
Darkhorse relented, but he watched closely as the female delved into her work. She appeared to be earnest in her efforts, her hands carefully running over the areas of the injury. He sensed subtle uses of power over the ribs as she worked to mend them. Secretly, Darkhorse was grateful that it was not his task; he had been concerned about his clumsiness. Human systems were so delicate, so fragile. He might have caused more harm than good.
Cabe's expression gradually relaxed and his skin, which had grown so pale, was now pinker. He breathed with less difficulty now. Darkhorse probed with his power and found no trace of the injuries.
"He needs to rest now." As she rose, the grass shifted to better comfort the unconscious figure. Other stalks caressed the enchantress's arms.
"Thank you . . . Tori." The eternal eyed the lively grass with lingering distrust. How could it know the difference between a human and a drake warrior? Why would it protect one and kill the other?
"I did it because I wanted to, so don't thank me. Besides, it's probably my fault you came here in the first place. You got my message, didn't you?"
"You sent the message to Penacles?"
"It was the only method by which I thought that I could eventually reach Cabe." She smiled wistfully at the slumbering mage. "A pity I didn't latch on to him before he met the Lady of the Amber."
Darkhorse eyed her. "You are not quite the same female that Cabe encountered in Zuu."
"Things have gotten worse in Zuu. I can't even stay there anymore. I like fun, not war." She pretended to pout.
The shadow steed judged that Tori, if that was truly her name, was a person of masks. She pretended to be frivolous when that served her, serious when the situation called for it. At other times, he suspected that she switched back and forth without warning, putting those around her constantly off-guard. That, combined with apparently substantial abilities, made her formidable.
"Why Cabe? Why him? What do you expect of him?"
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04 Page 41