All around them, the air was suddenly filled with hissing. One of the lead riders grunted in surprise, then slipped from his horse, a long bolt through his throat. Three other warriors within Darkhorse's view joined the first.
The bolts were not elven. In fact, from the brief glimpse Darkhorse got of one, they more resembled massive thorns from some plant. Lanith and Yureel had just gotten their first taste of the magical defenses of the Dagora Forest.
"Shields!" roared Belfour.
Above Darkhorse, the king stiffened. The shadow steed felt the growing presence of his counterpart. It was as if Yureel and not Lanith now sat upon his back. "Command the men to hold back, General Belfour. The Order will deal with this prickly situation."
Only Darkhorse heard the brief giggle that escaped King Lanith.
Belfour signaled a halt to the advance. Silence fell over the forest. The general glanced at his liege, but Darkhorse could not see what expression now graced the features of the warlord.
Someone gasped. Ahead of them, a dusting of white fell upon the trees. Wherever the dust fell, limbs and leaves crystallized and began to shudder. The sunlight that managed to shine through created a glare that forced more than one warrior to squint. The storm was short but heavy, lasting all of perhaps five minutes but covering everything in sight ahead of them.
"Give the order to move on again, General."
The senior officer nodded. At first, movement was slow and hesitant, but when no new rain of death fell upon the foremost soldiers, the pace of the advance increased.
When they reached the whitened area, the advance faltered again, but this time it was because of fascination, not fear. The trees and plants in this region not only looked crystalline, they were. One rider broke off a gleaming branch and brandished it briefly before being reprimanded by an officer.
In the center of the crystalline region, they came upon several barrel-shaped plants with hundreds of long, pointed spikes growing out of the sides. Each plant, though, had areas upon it where it appeared the spikes had been removed. No one had to ask if these were the sources of the hail of bolts. Like the other plants, though, these were also dead.
At sight of this, the morale of the warriors grew yet stronger, so much so that Darkhorse actually began to have hope. Yureel was allowing his human puppets to become too overconfident in their safety. However, the spines had been only the first line of defense. More was surely to come.
Lanith reined him to a slower pace. Belfour and the king's other senior officers followed suit, but the rest of the invading horde pressed forward, soon leaving their leaders far in the rear.
"Is something amiss, Your Majesty?" Belfour himself seemed uneasy, as if he shared the shadow steed's opinion concerning the increasing danger.
"No. Nothing's wrong." Although he spoke in the voice of the horse king, it was Yureel who yet held the reins. "Nothing at all."
What do you plan, Yureel? What is going on? Surely you of all here would best know what danger lies—
Darkhorse paused in mid-thought, unable to believe what Yureel might be considering. It was wasteful, horrible . . . and so like his counterpart. He wanted to warn General Belfour at least, the elder warrior seemed to be more a man of honor than his liege had probably ever been, but the slave spell prevented even that.
Again, a brief giggle escaped the king. This time, one of Lanith's officers glanced his way, but only for a second or two.
The possessed king did a peculiar thing next. He reached down and patted Darkhorse on the head. The ebony stallion tried to shy away from the touch.
Far ahead, the forest ground shook without warning.
Despite his superior vision, Darkhorse caught only momentary glimpses of what was happening, but it was more than enough. As if churned up by a legion of huge, burrowing Quel, the earth first shook, then crumbled. Huge gaps opened up in the soil, gaps in which startled horses planted hooves or unsuspecting infantry their feet. Warriors and horses cried out as they stumbled and fell, only to find themselves being pulled beneath the moving earth.
The possessed king urged Darkhorse forward, reining him to a halt only when they were near enough to the terrible sight to see everything. Around Darkhorse and Lanith pandemonium threatened to destroy what remained of the invaders' organization, but the horse king seemed unbothered. Lanith—or rather, Yureel—was far more interested in the disaster ahead than in what was happening to the rest of the huge force. Yet, despite his interest in what was happening to the unfortunates caught in the trap, the possessed monarch made no move to save them, instead perhaps actually enjoying the tragic spectacle.
Men, women, and horses were sucked under. Some souls attempted to find safety in the trees, but when they sought to take hold of a branch or trunk, their hands slipped away and they fell back into the earthen maelstrom, vanishing moments later with shrieks of despair. Some of their comrades tried to rescue them by throwing in ropes. This actually saved two or three, but at least one rescuer tumbled in before anyone could seize her. She disappeared beneath the surface before she could finish screaming.
Although they were the servants of his captors, Darkhorse agonized over each death. None of them needed to have perished. This entire war was the notion of Lanith and Yureel, possibly even only Yureel, although Darkhorse doubted that the king was an innocent in this matter.
Someone sounded a retreat, not that it was really necessary to do so at this point. With the exceptions of those attempting to aid the last few victims of the Green Dragon's latest defense, most of the warriors had already retreated some distance back.
"Who gave that command?" shouted Lanith with a snarl.
Belfour rode up. "My liege, it was me. I apologize, but there was no other choice! If someone hadn't given some signal, some indication that command still functioned, instead of a retreat we might've had a complete rout!"
Lanith's body quivered with barely contained rage. Belfour had interrupted Yureel's pleasure. The general could not have possibly realized how tenuous his situation, his very life, had just become.
Surprisingly, the possessed king calmed. "Very good, Belfour. You're to be commended, yes, indeed." Yureel's presence retreated into the background. More and more, Lanith sounded and reacted like himself. "Get them reorganized and have them pull back a hundred paces . . . for now."
"What kind of war is this?" muttered Belfour, still unaware just how near to death he had likely come. "Where are the warriors? Where are those we can bury good steel in? We can't keep fighting sorcery!"
"Sorcery's the drake lord's first defense, General," Lanith replied. "It's also his main defense. Cut through what he's got set up and he'll have to rely on his own warriors. Fierce but few compared to my proud, vast legions."
"I hope we can cut through these devil defenses!"
"Have you so little faith yet in my Magical Order?" The king snapped his fingers. Yureel might have receded into the background, but his influence was still strong. Darkhorse sensed that Lanith still listened to him. The horse king probably did not even realize that he had been momentarily possessed.
"You summoned me, Your Majesty?"
Aurim's arrival was so abrupt that even Darkhorse was startled by it. Only Lanith reacted as if fully expecting the young sorcerer to appear.
"I did. You see what lies before us . . ."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Deal with it."
"We'll do our best." Aurim made to leave.
The king turned Darkhorse toward the sorcerer. "You'll do more than that. I gave a royal command. I expect nothing but success!"
"Your Majesty, at least two of our number are hard-pressed to continue. It would be best if we could have an hour of rest. There are limitations."
"You'll rest when I give you the command and no sooner!" The king urged the shadow steed forward, then drew his blade and touched the sharp tip against Aurim's chest. "Deal with the trap. Clear the way. I want results! Men've died and there're those who must pay! They mu
st pay!"
This last the king cried out so that all within earshot could hear him. Many of the nearest warriors nodded or muttered their agreement with his sentiments. More than a few clutched their blades, even brandishing them in a sort of salute to their monarch's demand for retribution.
And what would they think, Darkhorse wondered, if they had seen their glorious king not more than a minute before enjoying the tragic deaths of their comrades?
As Lanith withdrew the blade, Aurim Bedlam nodded. The shadow steed noted that the young sorcerer's eyes had a hollow look, as if Aurim was exhausted. Not surprising, considering the fact that he not only contributed greatly to each spell, but acted as the focus for all the others.
"It shall be done." With those words, the sorcerer vanished.
The horse king turned to his officers, his voice still loud enough for all around to hear. Darkhorse sensed the work of Yureel; no human's voice could have carried so well. "Cowards that they are, I say that they will pay! Afraid to face us with steel and bow, that's what they are! Well, if that's what they want, we'll answer them in kind and in blood until they have no choice but to meet us with arms!" The warrior king straightened in the saddle and even Darkhorse, his head twisted around as much as the bridle would allow, could see how the human wielded his sword against the distant, unseen foe to the east. "And when that time comes, we shall show them the same mercy that they showed our friends and kin here! Ten lives for every one of ours lost!" The horse king's eyes shifted to his officers as he cried out again. "Ten lives for one!"
Taking the cue, Belfour raised his own blade. "Ten lives for one!"
"Ten lives for one!" called out the rest of the officers obediently, each raising a weapon.
The cry was picked up by other warriors, until it became a chant. Lanith swung his blade around once, then again pointed it toward the east.
Perfectly timed, a green cloud formed over the heaving land. Yureel had coordinated the sorcerers' efforts with the king's words. Not so difficult a task when both Aurim and Lanith were under his sinister guidance, but the results were nonetheless spectacular. The cloud drifted down upon the earth and as it did, the convulsions slowed until finally they ceased altogether. The ground quickly reshaped itself, becoming flat and hard, perfect for men and mounts to travel across.
The warriors of Zuu continued to chant. Lanith paused to whisper something to Belfour, who caught the attention of the horn bearers. As soon as the land before them appeared stable enough, the general nodded. The blare of horns echoed throughout the area, even cutting through the chant. Slowly but with building determination, the horde moved forward again.
King Lanith sheathed his blade, then, after most of his forces had already passed by, he urged Darkhorse on. The shadow steed contemplated throwing his rider, but regrettably, all he could do was contemplate his revenge. He was still as helpless as Aurim.
To everyone's surprise, they encountered no more resistance that day, although the terrain did become more and more difficult to traverse. By the time the sun neared setting, the invaders were exhausted from having to pick their way through thick brush and rising and falling landscape. Lanith grew furious at the slowing pace, but did not order the sorcerers to clear the forest for him as they had done in the beginning. After Belfour's fourth request, the king finally granted him permission to give the command to make camp.
The invaders might have had some knowledge of the Dagora Forest, but they could not know it as well as Darkhorse, who had crossed it time and time again over the centuries. However, the immortal could not recall so troublesome a trek in this region. He was of the suspicion that perhaps the Green Dragon had decided to be more subtle, that instead of outright assaults, the drake lord now utilized delaying actions such as small but significant alterations in the land. Not only would it frustrate the invaders, possibly make them more prone to making mistakes, but it bought the master of Dagora time to prepare for the massive force that had suddenly decided to invade his land.
Thirty, possibly even twenty years ago, it would not have been so possible for Lanith, even with his sorcerers and Yureel, to conquer his former master. However, with the coming of Cabe Bedlam and the death of the Dragon Emperor, the centuries-long rule of the drakes had begun to collapse. Humans saw that their draconian masters were no longer invincible. More important, the Dragon Kings, ever untrusting of their own brethren, finally began to turn on each other. The clans of Iron and Bronze tried to seize power from their emperor, only to be crushed. Treachery abounded. Green allied himself with humans, which enabled his kingdom to survive relatively intact, but his control over many of his human vassals dwindled, especially over distant Zuu.
The Dragon King was hardly defenseless, however, as had proven so far. Darkhorse had no idea what the drake's next move would be, but he suspected that the night would not be a calm one.
Making camp in the thick forest was not the most pleasant activity for Lanith's warriors, but they tried to make do as best they could. Because of the thickness of the foliage, Belfour tripled the normal number of sentries. In addition, members of the Order were divided into groups of three, with each group using their combined abilities to monitor the region around the massive encampment.
Aurim was exempted from this. Lanith wanted his prize sorcerer to sleep through the night, although if any of the spellcasters on sentry duty sensed anything amiss, they were to alert the younger Bedlam immediately.
Darkhorse found himself handed off to an aide, who seemed at a loss what to do with the eternal. The man first tried to deal with the shadow steed just as he would have with any normal mount, but when he found that Darkhorse neither needed nor desired anything, the aide threw his arms up in frustration and simply left his charge tied up to a tree next to the tent that doubled both as the king's personal quarters and his strategic headquarters.
The shadow steed had hoped that his caretaker would make the mistake of removing the saddle and bridle, but evidently the human had been warned against doing so.
Unlike his imprisonment in the palace, Darkhorse discovered that he could move, although if he tried to do much more than turn his head or take a step forward or back, he froze up for more than a minute. The eternal still could not use his power, not even to probe for any possible sorcerous activity in the forest around him. He had no idea whether the Dragon King even knew that he and Aurim were part of this sinister force. Darkhorse did not worry about himself so much as what might happen to Cabe's son if the Green Dragon tried to eliminate Lanith's most powerful tool, the Order.
Although he was fairly near to the king's quarters, Darkhorse could not hear what was going on inside save that Lanith appeared to be berating one of his staff. Not surprising, especially if the one being berated was General Belfour. Belfour was still the most outspoken officer, although he had so far never actually defied his liege. If Darkhorse was any judge, the general would have opted for continued peace rather than this war King Lanith so desired.
Be careful, General, lest Zuu lose its only voice of reason.
The eternal's ears twitched as a crackling sound rose without warning from the encampment's edge. At first he thought it was a new attack, but nothing more happened. The crackling continued to rise in intensity, causing some consternation among the warriors, who had just started to settle down for the night. Just as it seemed panic might arise, though, someone made an announcement that caused calm to resume. Darkhorse could not hear what was said, but gathered from the renewed quiet that the spell causing the noise was the work of the Order.
Time passed slowly for the captive. Belfour and the other senior officers departed the king's tent, vanishing into the encampment. Lanith made no attempt to check on his reluctant mount, instead evidently retiring the moment his subordinates departed. Darkhorse marveled at the horse king's attitude; the human treated the eternal as he would have any mortal steed. Away from combat, it seemed not to impress him that Dark- horse was so much more. The eternal resembled a horse an
d so Lanith treated him like one. It was almost insulting.
Yureel, too, was oddly absent, something that bothered the stallion. Neither of the pair required sleep and only needed rest if worn from battle or extensive uses of power. That Yureel had not come to taunt him meant that the shadow puppet had other things to occupy his time. Darkhorse wondered what the sinister imp found so diverting.
Time passed. Since the aide had departed, no one else had come to check on him. How long he stood facing the tree around which his reins were tied, Darkhorse did not care to know. On occasion, the distant, faint sounds of a sentry moving about or some warrior grumbling in his sleep disturbed the silence, but in general the night was quiet save for the calls of a few nocturnal creatures. After several futile attempts to do something more about his captivity, Darkhorse finally gave up.
He had nearly drifted off into a state similar to dozing when he sensed an approaching figure. His first thought was that it might be Aurim, but as he carefully studied the newcomer, Darkhorse realized that it was a warrior and a woman at that.
She approached him tentatively, as if not quite certain what to make of his imposing figure. The woman was typical of an inhabitant of Zuu, blond, tall, and muscular. She was no one that Darkhorse could recall, but the traditional outfit she wore reminded him of the king's Guard.
With a quick glance around her, the female stepped close enough to whisper. "My name—Herion's Mane, I feel like a fool to be doing this—my name's Rebatha. I was told you might be a creature called—gods!—called Darkhorse. Is that true?"
Unable to do anything else, the shadow steed nodded.
Rebatha looked uncertain. "Did you nod your head in reply? Maybe . . . if you really can understand me . . . stamp the ground lightly three times with your left front hoof."
Darkhorse obeyed, moving slowly so as not to frighten away his anxious visitor. Rebatha was clearly not supposed to be here. He now had a notion as to just who she was.
She watched him perform exactly as she had asked, shaking her head afterward in disbelief. "I didn't believe my sister or my father, but it must be true. You are Darkhorse, I guess. My father's Trenlen. He told me that you disappeared after trying to rescue your friend the sorcerer. When I heard King Lanith had a new mount, a horse like none anyone had ever seen, I had to find out if it was you. This was my first chance, though."
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04 Page 53