Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04

by Richard A. Knaak

  "Please emphasize that we would appreciate it if he could come home immediately. We'll need everyone's help, including his and Valea's."

  "I shall do so, Cabe. Have no fear!" He reared and, as they watched, vanished from the palace.

  The ebony stallion rematerialized directly inside Gullivan's. He had thought of materializing outside, but that would have brought too much attention to him. Darkhorse hoped that none of the innkeeper's customers would take offense at his sudden arrival. Anyone who stayed at Gullivan's was warned about the possible sudden appearance of spellcasters associated with the Bedlams' school. Of course, nothing could prepare them for Darkhorse, but he hoped for the best.

  The same serving girl who had been frightened so easily the first time took one look at him and screamed. Gullivan burst out of the kitchen, eyes wide. When he saw the cause of the scream, the human sighed.

  "Oh, it's you, Darkhorse."

  "My apologies, Gullivan!" The eternal glanced around. Two gaily-clad merchants from Gordag-Ai had been discussing business matters with the pair from Irillian and another pair likely from Penacles. The men from Gordag-Ai stared open-mouthed while the others simply stared. One of the men from Penacles was trying to hide a smirk. He had evidently seen Darkhorse in the past and now was enjoying the foreigners' shock.

  The innkeeper hurried over to Darkhorse. "How may I help you? Are you looking for Master Aurim, by any chance?"

  "That I am, Gullivan! Very astute of you! Is he here?"

  "I don't believe so. The young woman isn't here. That much I know. She stepped out earlier and hasn't returned."

  "No?" This made Darkhorse's task much more complex, but he was undaunted. "Do you have any idea where she went?"

  "Not me, but I'll ask in back. Maybe one of the girls or someone else saw her after I did." Gullivan bowed briefly and quickly retreated into the back room. A moment later, he emerged again, scratching his chin.

  "Any word?"

  "My son says that when he stepped outside earlier, he saw the girl riding off from the stable. She looked like she was packed for a trip."

  "A trip?" What sort of foolishness had the young pair gotten into? If Jenna had packed for a trip, then it was likely that Aurim and she were meeting outside the city, possibly for a more private encounter. While the eternal did not begrudge his young friend such privacy, Aurim should have informed someone if he was leaving the safety of the city walls.

  "Did your son say which way she rode?"

  "She went north, but she could've easily turned another direction later on. Is there something wrong, Darkhorse?"

  "Not as far as I know. Just two young ones with their heads lost in the clouds, I suppose." The eternal paused. "Tell me, Gullivan, where outside the city walls would a pair of young friends go to meet? What I mean is—"

  The veteran soldier smiled. "I know what you mean, friend. I've watched the lad and lass. If I wanted privacy and I was willing to ride a little, I'd probably head toward the Serkadian. There's some lovely spots out there if you're interested in setting the mood."

  "The river?"

  Gullivan's smile faded slightly. "The river. It's very scenic in places. If one wanted a place to meet a young lady, there's some nice places along the river's edge, especially where the flowers are in bloom. Ladies like that sort of thing."

  "Do they? Then I think that I shall go there and look." He dipped his head toward the innkeeper. "My gratitude, Gullivan, and if Aurim should return, please tell him that matters require his presence back at the Manor. Make certain that he knows that it is urgent."

  "I'll be glad to do so, Darkhorse. If I may . . . is there something wrong?"

  Darkhorse backed away a few steps from the innkeeper. "It is nothing to concern yourself with, Gullivan. Now if you will excuse me. ."

  He vanished from the inn while the proprietor was still nodding, rematerializing a moment later near the western gate of the city. Two sentries on duty inside the wall leaped to attack position before they realized just what faced them. A family passing through the gate froze in terror, the man and one of the three small children crying out. Behind them, another man on a horse struggled to regain control of his frightened steed.

  With some effort, the guards restored order. The braver of the pair approached the eternal slowly, saluting. "My Lord Darkhorse! I—we didn't recognize you at first! Greetings! I am . . . uh . . . Haplin! May I ask for what reason you honor us?"

  "Easy, Haplin! Forgive me for my sudden arrival! I am in search of someone! Are you familiar with Aurim Bedlam, son of the sorcerer Cabe Bedlam?"

  "I've only seen him from a distance, my lord."

  "Enough to recognize him if he passed through these gates?"

  Haplin frowned, then glanced at the other sentry, who shrugged. "We've seen no one like that, Lord Darkhorse. Just the usual merchants, farmers, moving families, and riffraff."

  The shadow steed caught the second man glancing at a young woman accompanying an elderly couple into the city. After pondering for a moment, Darkhorse decided to try a different query. "Have you perhaps seen a young merchant woman?" He described Jenna as best he could, attempting to emphasize those features that the guards might best recall. "It would have been earlier this day."

  "I remember her," called the second sentry. "She headed straight west, which I thought kind of funny since when I asked where she was going she said 'home to Gordag-Ai.'

  "Indeed?" That struck Darkhorse as strange as it had the guard. Perhaps Jenna intended on returning to her homeland after her meeting with Aurim, but the eternal could not see the young woman making the journey all by herself. He also did not think that after the attraction the pair had shown for one another that she would separate herself from the young sorcerer that easily.

  Something did not sit right. Darkhorse's uneasiness grew.

  "I thank you for your time, friends!" The ebony stallion reared, which immediately caused a path to clear for him. Haplin saluted, but Darkhorse was already past him. Now more than ever, he wanted to reach the river quickly.

  There was still no trace of Aurim. The boy had shielded himself well. As for this Jenna, what little power he had sensed in her was not sufficient to track her down. That meant that Darkhorse would have to physically search the area until he located the prodigal pair. It was the only way he could be certain that he would find them.

  The short distance to the riverbank was no difficult hurdle, but the winding, foliage-rich landscape threatened to be. Two young lovers would do their best to find a secluded location, of which there were far too many from the looks of things. The shadow steed paused, then turned south. As he traveled, Darkhorse studied the ground for recent tracks. He also continued to search on another plane, seeking any momentary lapse, any accidental sorcerous trace left behind by Aurim.

  A short time later, he at last found some clues. The tracks could have belonged to anyone's mount, but he sensed also a slim hint of sorcery in the vicinity. Darkhorse followed the mild trace, noting that the tracks also led in that direction. Ahead of him was what looked to be a perfect location for his quarry, a quiet, private opening near the riverside. Colorful flowers even decorated the area.

  He heard nothing but the birds and the rushing water, but that did not mean that the two were not nearby. It could be that they had even noticed his presence and were keeping silent. The shadow steed hoped that was the case although he doubted it.

  A moment later his fears were confirmed. The area was empty. Still, Darkhorse was certain that they had been here. The longer he remained, the more he felt the past presence of Cabe's son. Aurim had performed sorcery of some sort, sorcery of a high degree. The trace grew stronger the nearer Darkhorse moved to the river.

  What had the lad done? Had something happened to both of them because of some spell Aurim had been trying to cast?

  Darkhorse shuddered, then rethought matters. The traces that remained of the younger Bedlam's attempt were too delicate to be the by-products of a magical dis
aster. Whatever spell Aurim had cast, he had completed without problem.

  Which brought the eternal back to the question of where the two young humans were now.

  He glanced down, seeking tracks that might indicate the pair had ridden off elsewhere. His eyes widened as he found the two sets of hooves met at least three more.

  What company joined them? Bandits? Even at his worst, Aurim would be able to handle three bandits! All he would have had to do was reestablish his link with his parents.

  Oddly, when Darkhorse looked for the newcomers' path of departure, he found nothing. According to the prints, the strangers had ridden up to the horses of the young pair and then all of them, Aurim and Jenna included, had simply vanished. There were no tracks leading away.

  Doubling back, the eternal checked once more. Tracks led to the spot, but no tracks led away. Studying the river, Dark- horse wondered if perhaps they had somehow managed to cross it. Perhaps that was what Aurim had done, created a path or bridge across the river.

  Had a fisherman been walking near the riverbank he might have noticed a wondrous sight. Unhindered by normal limitations, the huge, ebony stallion trotted across the vast Serkadian, his hooves not even touching the swift water. However, there were no tracks on the other side. Darkhorse searched for quite some distance in either direction along the bank, but found nothing, not even a trace of sorcerous activity.

  He returned to the original site, mind racing. The evidence did not bode well. Aurim was nowhere to be found. Jenna had told the sentry that she would be returning to Gordag-Ai even though it was clear that she had indeed met with the young sorcerer. At least three riders had joined them and then the entire party had simply disappeared.

  Disappeared. Spellcaster's work. Yet, Aurim's trace was the only strong one . . . although there was a very faint hint of something else. It reminded him vaguely of . . . of the female sorcerer who had rescued Cabe and him from the spell trap.

  Something has happened to Aurim! His parents must be told!

  The moment Darkhorse contemplated telling them, however, he found himself unable to move. The Bedlams were back at the Manor in the midst of important research, trying to puzzle out this sinister force working for King Lanith. By the time he retrieved them, there was no telling how cold the trail might be. It behooved him to try to track down the missing sorcerer first.

  If they had not forded the river or ridden from this location, then the only logical assumption could be that someone had transported them away. That would require power and the longer the distance the group had to be transported the more power the sorcerer would need to expend. Jenna had not struck him as having that much strength—although Darkhorse was beginning to suspect that she had more than his cursory inspection had revealed—which left Aurim himself the logical choice.

  But why would the lad aid his own captors . . . if that is who they were? The evidence was circumstantial for the most part, but the shadow steed was fairly certain that he was correct in his assumption. Now he needed to do something about it.

  If Aurim had cast such a great spell, then there had to be some trace of his path. Travel by sorcery seemed instantaneous to most people, but the truth was that the spell still occasionally left a slight trace. At the very least, if Darkhorse was able to detect such a trace he might be able to follow the party.

  It was a long shot even for him. Only because of the intensity of the young spellcaster's power did the eternal think that he might have a chance.

  Steeling himself, Darkhorse projected his mind in a dozen directions. No human mage could have imitated his efforts, for their minds were restricted to a few petty planes of existence while the shadow steed, being a creature of the endless, empty Void, was open to many, many levels. However, he rarely looked beyond the ones known to most spellcasters of this world; there was always the danger of permanently fragmenting his mind. He was willing to risk some of that danger now, however, if only it would aid him in finding Cabe's son.

  I allowed this relationship to grow . . . I allowed this to happen . . . Jam at fault . . .

  Again and again his probing failed. Somehow, Aurim Bedlam had gained such control over his abilities that he had used scarcely more than the slightest amount of power necessary to complete the transportation spell. There was no sign of a blink hole nor any evidence of any other method of magical travel. Nonetheless, Darkhorse did not give up. He could not. There had to be some sign, some bit of—

  And there it was. The trace was so very minuscule, only detectable on the very edge of human magical senses. Neither the elder Bedlams nor the Gryphon would have likely noticed its presence. Darkhorse had already missed it twice. Only because of his stubbornness had he finally taken notice. It was too faint for him to decipher which direction the party had traveled, but not too faint for him to follow using a spell of his own.

  Without hesitation, Darkhorse opened a blink hole. There were other, swifter modes of magical travel, but because he was not certain what lay at the other end, the eternal wanted to have that extra moment in which to prepare himself. He suspected he knew just where Aurim had been taken. Now he could verify it.

  The hole floated before him, a wide oval rip in reality. Darkhorse took one last glance around him, then entered.

  What existed within the blink hole was a question even the shadow steed could not completely answer. He stood upon a path floating through a vaguely seen dimension of mist. In some ways it reminded him of the Void, but where now the light mist floated around him, in his home there would have been nothing but a great, bright emptiness.

  Darkhorse moved along the path, knowing that he had already crossed much of the distance between Penacles and his destination. He had created this blink hole carefully, forming it so that with his power he could manipulate its time span. He would reach the end when he chose and not a moment before.

  The path before him grew more distinct, a sign that Dark- horse had nearly reached his goal. He slowed. The blink hole was not supposed to open until he reached the very end. The shadow steed tried to gather his thoughts. There might be a dozen different threats beyond the hole, but Darkhorse was prepared. For Aurim's sake, he had to be.

  The shadow steed willed the gap to open.

  Nothing happened.

  Perplexed, Darkhorse tried again. The results were the same. The path ended, but no doorway formed.

  He turned back. Something had blocked the way. He would have to return to Penacles and plan anew.

  Only . . . now it was impossible to see the path back. All that lay behind Darkhorse was mist. Endless mist. The ebony stallion tried to trace his route, but without the path, he had nowhere to go.

  He was trapped. Someone had set another snare, catching Darkhorse because of his own arrogance and overconfidence. This time, there was no one to save him.

  Chapter Seven

  Zuu.

  Aurim had often dreamed of visiting the land of the horse people, but not as a helpless prisoner of the king and his vile, treacherous witch. He had no one to blame but himself, though. His father would have seen through her disguise, of that the younger Bedlam was certain. Only someone as simple and naive as Aurim would have fallen prey to Saress's masquerade.

  As if sensing his thoughts, the enchantress turned and smiled at him. The two of them had been waiting here for the past half hour. Saress seemed not to care; whatever the king wanted her to do, she did. If he wanted her to wait, she waited. If he wanted her to trick and capture potential sorcerers for him, the woman leaped to obey. Worse, if what Saress had said of King Lanith's future plans was true . . .

  "Patience, darling. He'll be along soon. Just . . . enjoy the sights."

  She meant herself, of course. Saress was clad in a thin, low-cut outfit made entirely of leather. It covered little more than necessary. Aurim knew that it was a variation on the traditional jerkin and pants of the horse king's guards, but Saress had turned it from a piece of history to something with a much darker purpose. It was supposed
to be seductive, and under other circumstances, he knew that it probably would have captured his full attention, but after what the witch had done to him, Aurim could only look upon her with revulsion.

  Despite the spell that held him in stasis, Aurim still had use of his eyes. Rather than glare at his captor, the sorcerer chose to again study the room. This was supposed to be the throne room of the kings of Zuu, but it more resembled the interior of some old keep built in the days when Lanith's ancestors finally decided to give up their nomadic lives. Likely it was a reminder of that time. More than one palace had been built on the site of previous royal buildings. Perhaps King Lanith's throne room was all that remained of the original house of the first chosen monarch of the new kingdom.

  There had been alterations since then, of course. High up the walls, someone had added barred windows. Someone else had added a number of torch holders shaped as astonishingly lifelike armored hands. They appeared to line the walls on both sides from end to end, but unable to move his head, Aurim could not be certain.

  The dais before them was of the same dark granite as the walls, which meant that it, too, had probably been part of the original structure. The throne, however, looked new. Carved from what Aurim recognized as rare elfwood, it stood taller than even one of the Dragon Kings. The legs had been shaped to resemble those of horses, even down to the hooves. The armrests were the sleek backs of racing chargers, whose ferocious heads seemed ready to snap at anyone who approached too closely.

  Forming the upper back of the chair were twin steeds who reared toward one another, forehooves clashing. Underneath them, a pair of swords pointing earthward completed the back. The entire throne had been painted a dusky brown, the most popular shade of the famous horses of Zuu. Only the leather seat of the chair gave it any variation.

  It was the ugliest piece of furniture that Aurim had ever seen.

  A door behind the throne suddenly opened. Saress immediately went down on one knee and, to his dismay, so did Aurim. A full dozen warriors of the king's special guard marched out in perfect order, then split into two equal groups. The warriors, evenly divided between male and female, lined up across from one another, forming a corridor of muscle extending from the dais to the enchantress and her captive.