She started toward him but then had to leap behind a tree as the air opened up again. This time, a half-dozen figures appeared. They stood together, surveying the area with varying looks of interest and trepidation.
In their lead was Ponteroy. In one hand he held a short staff topped by a crystal carved into the head of a horse. Yssa knew that the gaudily-clad sorcerer used the staff to better focus his own powers.
Of the other spellcasters, most, including the older woman, were vaguely familiar to her, but their identities were not so important as the fact that despite their obvious anxiousness, they began to search the area very methodically. This was not the collection of misfits that she recalled from several weeks back. They still had rough edges, but the Magical Order looked much more like a cohesive fighting unit than Miklo had indicated during their final meeting.
"Look over there," Ponteroy commanded a youth, the only one completely unknown to Yssa. She suspected that he was one of the students kidnapped from Penacles, but now he seemed an eager servant of Lanith.
They were searching for Cabe Bedlam, of course, but fortunately, Ponteroy had chosen to focus on the wrong area. That meant that she had a chance to get to the sorcerer first and spirit him away before the others noticed.
Crouching and hoping that the medallion would do her some good after all, Yssa moved slowly toward where Cabe lay unmoving. Fortunately for the master sorcerer, he had landed behind some trees. Yssa also noticed that she could barely detect the unconscious spellcaster, which meant that he had woven a fairly complex shield spell around himself. That would not hide him forever, though, which was why she had to reach him quickly.
The sorcerer's still unmoving form worried her immensely. The enchantress began to wonder whether he had been more severely injured than she had first thought, but since he lay on his stomach she could not see what his face might reveal. However, when Yssa tried to turn him over, an invisible barrier more than an inch thick prevented her. No matter how she tried to move him, the spell would not allow her to get any grip.
"Sometimes you can be too safe," she whispered to the unconscious figure. Yssa quickly glanced at the hunters, now distant, only partially visible forms. The longer they took, the better. She needed time to decide how to get around Cabe's protective spells.
Then a second crackle of thunder made her look around with renewed anxiety. She sensed that someone new and much more capable had joined the pursuing mages, someone with abilities far more impressive than those of either Saress or Ponteroy. An unfamiliar voice said something unintelligible, something that made Ponteroy reply angrily. The newcomer added one more comment, then an unnerving silence ensued.
Yssa redoubled her efforts to move Cabe. She tried to pick up his head, but only managed to cause him to shift a little. However, the movement evidently was enough to wake the sorcerer. Cabe Bedlam groaned, then slowly opened his eyes.
Yssa leaned close, whispering, "I can't touch you! Let me touch you so that we can get out of here before they find us!"
He closed his eyes, seeming to drift off again. However, the protective spells around him lessened, then vanished. Cabe opened his eyes again. "Do what . . . you can now. My concentration is still too . . . I can't focus enough . . . yet."
Yssa nodded, seizing hold of him.
A figure clad in brown sorcerer's robes suddenly materialized at her side. Yssa looked up into an ugly face whose most dominant feature was one of the longest, sharpest noses the enchantress had ever seen. The spellcaster was bald, not even having eyebrows. He reminded her of a vulture.
"Here he's lying," the vulture called out, "and he's got someone with—"
A heavy branch suddenly swung down and swatted the bald hunter in the face, cutting off his words. With a groan, he fell back, stunned.
Having momentarily disposed of one foe, Yssa found her mind now blank. She had to take Cabe away from here, but the question of where was too much for her muddled senses.
From all around her Yssa felt the use of sorcery. The other spellcasters were acting in concert now, creating some sort of prison . . . and yet she could still not focus her mind. Should she take Cabe to her father? That did not seem wise. Should she take him to the grasslands? He might react to them the same way Darkhorse had. Why of all times was it impossible for her to think?
As if sensing her dilemma, her companion whispered, "The Manor. Take us there. Let me show you."
With one hand, he touched her forehead. An image of a place formed, an image so lifelike, Yssa almost tried to reach out and touch it.
It was a house, an abode, but like none she had ever come across in her life. Massive stone walls merged with barriers formed from the very earth. Chiseled marble and cut wood had been used to build much of the structure, but the right side seemed to have been built into a huge and still living tree. Atop the roof and overlooking the front entrance was a metallic figure, a tall Seeker. The avian creature was so realistic he seemed ready to swoop down on unsuspecting newcomers.
The building was at least three stories tall and wider than some barons' castles that Yssa had seen. A small army could have dwelled within those walls.
"There. The Manor," the sorcerer concluded. "Now you know where to go."
She did and just in time, too, for several yards away, a second figure materialized. He was not one of the original hunters, but Yssa knew that he had to be one of their fellows. Although escape was what she should have been concentrating on, the enchantress could not help staring first. Before her stood a handsome, golden-haired man who resembled a hero from the epics spun in the taverns of Zuu. Her heart beat faster and Yssa had to remind herself that this man was an enemy.
"Who're you?" he demanded. The voice was the same one that she had heard giving commands to Ponteroy.
Yssa desperately thought about Cabe Bedlam's home, the mysterious and legendary Manor. She pictured it as he had shown it to her.
"Stop—" the other sorcerer began. A brief hesitant look crossed his features, then fury took over.
His darkening visage was the last thing the enchantress saw before the world around her faded.
For a moment she and Cabe hung suspended in the middle of nothing, then, thankfully, a new scene unfolded. Gone was the forest, although in the distance Yssa could still see tall trees. Instead, the pair of them had ended up in a huge, well- manicured garden that stretched long into the distance. Some of the bushes had been trimmed into the shapes of animals. A marble walkway led toward what looked like a hedge maze. Here and there, benches dotted the area.
Someone cleared their throat. Yssa looked over her shoulder and saw a tall, scarlet-tressed woman dressed in a beautiful forest-green gown. Behind her was the back of a huge edifice one side of which was part of an immense tree.
"I would venture to say," the woman remarked in a very cold voice, "that you must be the one he called Tori. Now would you like to explain to me what you're doing with my husband?"
Knowing more than most about the legendary Lady of the Amber, Yssa involuntarily cringed.
"It's all right, Gwen," muttered Cabe. He untangled himself from Yssa and tried to rise. Halfway up, the sorcerer seized his head in both hands. "Except for every bone and muscle aching and an incredible throbbing in my head, that is. If anything . . . if anything, Yssa probably saved me from capture."
"Yssa? I thought her name was Tod and what's this about capture? You went to find our son." Lady Bedlam's tone grew anxious. "What's happened to him, Cabe? Where is he?"
"He's a prisoner of Zuu. The young woman he met in Penacles was evidently a sorceress working for the horse king. Saress was her true name, I believe."
"A . . . prisoner." Cabe Bedlam's wife grew furious again, but at least this time her fury was not focused on Yssa. "How dare that barbaric horse trainer hold my son! We have to get him back immediately!"
"That may not be so simple--" Yssa began, clamping her mouth shut the moment the other sorceress looked at her. She had made a mistake remi
nding Gwendolyn Bedlam of her presence.
"What she means," Cabe quickly interjected, "is that Zuu is better protected than I could ever imagine. I can't even get inside the city walls. In fact, when I tried, I was thrown back so hard it stunned me for several minutes. If not for Yssa, Lanith's spellcasters would've captured me." He shook his head, then grimaced in evident pain. "They acted in unison, nearly perfect unison. I felt it even as they hammered me. I don't think I've ever heard of spellcasters working so well together, not even the Dragon Masters."
He suddenly turned his face away from his wife, but Yssa, who now had a clear look at it, saw the anxiety and pain. Her suspicions about what she had seen just before they had escaped were now verified by his obvious pain. He knew the golden-haired sorcerer who had nearly captured them.
If she could not see his expression, Gwendolyn Bedlam could certainly read his turbulent emotions in his actions. The enchantress put a comforting hand on her husband's arm. "Cabe, what is it?"
Swallowing, Cabe looked at her. "Gwen, one of the attackers was . . . it was Aurim!"
"That's impossible!" She jerked her hand away. "He wouldn't—"
"And I don't think he did." The robed figure stared at Yssa. "Did you sense it? Did you get a chance to probe him?"
It had not occurred to Yssa to do any such thing. All that had concerned her was to escape, taking her stunned companion with her. "I didn't . . . I don't understand . . ."
"No, you wouldn't. I probably sensed him just before you did, I suppose. I reacted without really thinking. I could feel the presence of my son, but when I tried to speak to him through his mind in order to avoid alerting the others, I ran across—" He stopped, clearly unable to believe what he was saying. "There was another mind overlapping his own. I couldn't even reach Aurim's!"
"Possession?" Lady Bedlam snapped. "Not possession! Not after what Toma did to him!"
An intelligent force Yssa recalled MiIdo's last moments again. "The thing in the palace! The thing that Lanith controls!"
Oddly, Cabe Bedlam shook his head. "I would've thought so, but it can't be. That can't be what I sensed . . . and yet, what I sensed could not be the truth, either." He looked at both of them. "What I sensed . . . was Darkhorse."
"What?" both women cried. Yssa wondered if Cabe still suffered from a concussion. He had to be mistaken.
"It was Darkhorse," he insisted. "I know Darkhorse's magical trace. There's nothing like it in all the Dragonrealm. He's seized Aurim's mind . . . and now it seems he's forcing our son to serve the king of Zuu, even if it means fighting us!"
Chapter Ten
Yureel.
If there was a thing in all of creation that Darkhorse feared, it was Yureel. He had believed he had seen the last of the monster, but here Yureel was, once more turning living beings into puppets to be wasted in horrific tableaus of violence all for the sake of the mad creature's personal entertainment. That was all any other being was to Yureel, a thing to be utilized for his enjoyment, then discarded when of no further value.
The shadow steed still could not move. The spell that Aurim had cast was a thorough one thanks to the guidance of the macabre little figure. Aurim Bedlam had probably been the thrall of Yureel since soon after his capture, a thrall now eager to do whatever his master desired. Somewhere deep inside, the young sorcerer's mind might still be active, but it hardly mattered. Darkhorse had seen few who could escape the control of the shadow man.
He himself had been one of those few, but now Yureel had him again.
Through Aurim's sorcery they had moved him to a stone structure that had, until recently, served as part of the royal stable. That was all he had been told by the king of Zuu, who, whenever he visited, stared at the shadow steed with a greedy eye. Darkhorse had been here for two days now, unable to move or even use his power to send a mental summons to Cabe or the Gryphon. It was clear that Yureel had spent much time plotting Darkhorse's capture.
Why this, Yureel? Why not simply do what I know you desire? Why not finish me? The sinister little demon had some wicked torture in mind. That had to be it. Yureel wanted him to suffer great mental anguish, vengeance for the ebony puppet's long imprisonment in the empty realm known only as the Void.
Perhaps that was why Darkhorse was here. Perhaps Yureel planned on keeping him here for a few centuries . . . but, no, that was ridiculous. Besides, King Lanith seemed expectant about something. If the madman thinks—
A dread rolled over him. Darkhorse sensed another presence, one so much like himself that only he could have noticed the difference.
The insane giggle floated about the chamber. A tiny speck of darkness in one far corner suddenly expanded until it formed a nearly human figure only a foot tall. Once fully shaped, Yureel floated serenely toward his prisoner.
"I do hope you've been enjoying the accommodations, brother dear!" The miniature phantom drifted to eye level. "I wanted you to feel at home since you enjoy that absurd form so much!" Yureel cocked his head. "Oh, dear. I forgot that you're speechless for now, aren't you? That'll teach you to be impolite to our gracious host."
Briefly granted speech in the room where he had been captured, Darkhorse had used it to tell King Lanith what he thought of his part in this. The would-be conqueror had not been amused, although Yureel had been. Nonetheless, the shadow puppet had ordered Aurim to silence the prisoner and Cabe's son had obeyed without hesitation.
"We had quite an interesting time shortly after you were captured, Darkhorse. A little side note to my growing epic. It seems a loyal friend of yours wanted to visit. He tried to enter without great Lanith's permission." Yureel giggled. "I'm afraid that we had to destroy him. I hope Aurim won't miss his father too much!"
Cabe? Cabe had already tried to rescue him? What was Yureel trying to say . . . that Darkhorse's dearest companion had been killed in the process? Impossible! he wanted to roar. You are as bald a liar as ever, Yureel!
"You have a twinkle in your eye! Are you trying to tell me something?" He giggled again.
Darkhorse felt the tingle of sorcery. An instant later Aurim Bedlam joined the pair. He bowed to Yureel, completely ignoring his friend.
"I've done as you requested."
The tiny figure turned. "Really? So soon? I'm so proud of you! Show me, quickly!"
Aurim stretched forth his arms. Something made of leather and metal appeared on the floor before him. It took Darkhorse a few seconds to identify the creation as a bridle and bit.
"Is that all right?"
"Lovely, lovely, indeed! And the best of all?"
The sorcerer actually smiled. It was a smile that made the shadow steed want to cringe, so much did it seem more the expression that Yureel would have worn . had the latter actually had a mouth.
"Here." Aurim pointed next to the bridle. A glittering, golden saddle materialized. A strip of silver lined the edge of the saddle and the horn vaguely resembled an equine head. To Darkhorse the object was gaudy, which meant that it likely had been designed by his counterpart, not the sorcerer. "Is that the way you wanted it?"
Yureel clapped his tiny hands together. "Perfection! Simply perfection!" He turned to Darkhorse. "You should be extremely proud of him, brother! He's overcome all of his inadequacies quite quickly, hasn't he?"
"He can't talk," Aurim commented.
"Let him . . . for the moment."
"Release me, Yureel!" cried the ebony stallion the moment he realized that the spell of silence no longer held. "End this folly before it comes crashing down on you!"
"You do like to pontificate." His tone switched, shifting from taunting to bitter. "Perhaps I should throw you into the Void so that you can try listening to yourself as you float trapped without hope! Trapped!"
"You were responsible for your own imprisonment, Yureel! You tried to turn a land into chaos and disaster! You caused death and destruction on a grand scale and felt nothing for the mortal lives you wasted! The sorcerers who finally discovered you and found a way to bind you could have d
estroyed you instead!"
The shadow puppet's icy eyes narrowed. "But they couldn't, Darkhorse! They couldn't! For a long, long time, I wished that they had . . . for having tasted so much life, realizing that there were so many epics to create, I wanted more!" He giggled again. "And now, I shall create my greatest!"
He is more insane than ever! "Again with the stories, Yureel? What is it with you and your pathetic yearning to create these so-called epics? Is it because you so little understand the lives of the creatures you torment that you think you can learn something by manipulating them in scene after scene of devastation?"
Without removing his gaze from that of Darkhorse, Yureel snapped, "Replace the spell!"
Darkhorse found himself silenced again. He had apparently touched upon a tender point. Yureel looked ready to say something else, but was interrupted by another newcomer.
It was Lanith. The horse king was alone, probably because he wanted no one else to see his phantom servant . . . if the shadow man could be called anyone's servant. From what Darkhorse knew of Yureel, it was the horse king who was the puppet.
"How much longer, imp? I've been more than patient! When will he be ready?"
"Your timing is impeccable, 0 great emperor!" Both Yureel and Aurim performed bows before the king of Zuu, although the former's was decidedly perfunctory. Lanith, however, did not seem to notice the lapse. "Only this moment has your young but so capable master sorcerer completed the tasks I set before him!"
Aurim indicated the bridle and saddle. The horse king, unable to sense the incredible amount of power imbued into the items, seemed somewhat disappointed.
"This will do it? I've a hundred saddles better-looking than this, all made carefully by the best craftsmen in the kingdom. This hardly looks like a suitable saddle for a king, much less an item that'll make him behave as he should."
"You don't like the design?" asked Yureel with what sounded like actual disappointment. The floating figure indicated Darkhorse. "Well, you'll like what it does, I promise you that! Aurim?"
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04 Page 50