Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

XI

There is something different about this place.

Sometimes, it was hard to recall that more than twenty years had passed since his last visit to Zuu. It had been before the crisis centering around Cabe Bedlam and his emergence from hiding.

I live too long a life, the Gryphon thought not for the first time. Even the sorcerers he knew gradually aged and, if allowed, died peacefully. He, on the other hand, went on and on, fighting wars and trying to find his place in the world. Even when he had learned his own origins, learned that once his body had been that of one of the Faceless Ones of the other continent, he had not felt as if he knew who he was. There had only been two places where he had ever felt comfortable with himself. Safe. One was Penacles, which had embraced him as its leader despite his monstrous appearance.

The other place was wherever his family happened to be. With Troia and Demion, he had known true peace of mind, even during the worst years of the war.

Now Demion was dead and Troia, still chafing about being left behind, would someday also die.

When would he?

The Faceless Ones were virtually immortal; he was not so certain that he wanted to be. Yet neither was he the suicidal type.

Reshaped to pass for human, the Gryphon walked among the inhabitants of Zuu. Things were different. There was more order, more attention. Lanith, who he recalled vaguely as a young, obstinate child, must be more ambitious than his father. The Gryphon hoped that that ambition in no way mirrored that of King Melicard. The Dragonrealm looked to be in enough chaos without two human monarchs seeking to take on the mantle of conquest the Dragon Kings had given up.

He fingered the medallion given to him by the guards at the gate. More familiar with its like than Cabe was, the lionbird understood its true purpose. The talisman was crude, however, and so it had only taken a simple spell to adjust it so that anyone attuned to it would not notice the sudden presence of a master mage.

Two hours of wandering Zuu’s market area had already told him most of what he wanted to know. Again, as with the talisman, he was more familiar with how the rumor and gossip system of cities worked. Cabe, for all his skills, had not lived in the lower reaches of civilization for as long as the Gryphon had. True, the human had grown up around the taverns, but there were other levels of information. He had not had to survive as the lionbird had had to do in the early days. Few, if anyone, had the sum total experience that the Gryphon had.

And how I envy you that, Cabe.

He saw no purpose in remaining any longer. The sun was already down and each minute he delayed added to the off-chance that one of the king’s new spellcasters might, just might, detect him. The Gryphon, like Cabe, did not want to cause an incident. He already knew of the mysterious goings-on in the city and suspected that the warlock and the demon steed had nearly been discovered. While it was possible the Gryphon would be able to call upon his role as monarch of Penacles to protect himself, it would be embarrassing to his former kingdom and good Toos to try to explain why he was skulking about in another’s domain.

One item he had learned interested him most of all. There was some news about Legar. A dank fog had risen and those who had dared traverse the regions near the border had told of a mist so thick it was impossible to see anything. Curiously, this mist ended almost exactly at the inner edge of the peninsula, less than a few yards from where Esedi began. No one doubted it was magic, but having lived near the domain of the Crystal Dragon for so many generations, the people of Zuu were inclined to believe it was simply a step by the lord of Legar to further isolate himself from the world. After all, the fog did end before Esedi, not after. Not even the least tendril extended into those lands claimed by Lanith’s kingdom.

It is amazing, the peace of mind some can have. The Gryphon was not so confident. To him the foul haze meant that the wolf raiders must be there, as the Bedlams had feared. That meant that Cabe might be in more danger than he was prepared for, even with the aid of Darkhorse. From experience, the lionbird knew of some of the Aramites’ deadly tricks. He knew them better than anyone and knew also that D’Farany would be plotting others.

Abandoning his listening position at one of the danker establishments, which he still found of higher quality than many he had visited during his long life, the Gryphon sought out one of the more secluded alleys. It was time to begin following Cabe’s trail and for that he needed to perform a little magic. It would be subtle enough to escape the attention of the third-rate sorcerers who had created the talismans, but still powerful enough to accomplish its mission.

In the darkness of the narrow street, he removed a single object from the folds of his weathered cloak. The object had been carefully wrapped in a piece of cloth so as to be affected as little as possible by his own presence. Both the cloth and what it enshrouded had come from the personal effects of Cabe Bedlam.

He quickly unfolded the cloth and removed his prize. It was a short blade of the type used for shaving. One of the warlock’s foibles concerned shaving without the use of sorcery. Cabe’s detestation of any sort of magical alteration to his physical being amused the Gryphon at times, but in this instance it had come in handy. Metal objects were always best for this sort of spell. They had a better affinity for their user, especially mages. There were reasons why this was so, but they were of no concern to the lionbird at the moment. Finding Cabe’s trail was.

For one of his vast experience, the spell was nothing to perform. He felt the tingle as the blade became attuned. It would lead him along the path Cabe and Darkhorse had followed. The lionbird never considered following the magical trail left by the demon steed. As unique as that trail was, enough time had passed that following it would be more troublesome than what he was doing now. A physical object was always better, even in this case.

His hand and the blade once more buried in the voluminous folds of his cloak, he set out. The vague trail that most every spellcaster left led the Gryphon toward one of the countless stables he knew dotted the city. Likely Darkhorse had been stabled there. The trail grew confusing, however, which meant that not only had Cabe spent much time here, but he had moved around quite a bit in the nearby vicinity.

Some might have questioned the need to search at all, considering that the dark-haired spellcaster’s last message had mentioned the hills of Esedi, but the Gryphon was concerned with more than just his human friend. The Lady Gwen had not been entirely forthcoming, but he was certain that she was very concerned too with what had happened in Zuu. Cabe’s note was deceptively matter-of-fact. So much so, in fact, that the lionbird had agreed with the enchantress’s assumption that Zuu had not been a simple pause in the warlock’s journey.

Gwendolyn’s concern was for the health and well-being of her mate. The Gryphon’s concern included Cabe, but also the potential danger Zuu might now represent. Not merely Zuu, either. For all he knew there were already Aramite spies in the city. Again, the raiders were nothing if not efficient.

Much had happened at the stable, of that he was certain. That along with what he had heard verified much. He would have to relay his knowledge to Toos once this was over, assuming that the lanky former mercenary did not already know. This kingdom would bear watching.

It was impossible to avoid other folk, but this was hardly the first time the Gryphon had performed such covert activity. His every step was carefully planned despite how casual his actions might appear to an onlooker. At the stables he toyed with one of his boots, acting as if something had slipped inside and was now causing him annoyance. Dressed as an outsider and already having been in more than one tavern, it was hardly surprising that he also staggered to and fro a bit as he walked. Since he was clearly a visitor it was also no surprise that he would be glancing around at everything.

The trail left the stables simple enough, but near one of the local establishments, a strong pull made him turn. He stared at the well-lit entrance to a place called Belfour’s Champion. There was another trail leading off into the far streets, but this one was stronger, almost as if it were so recent it had not had time to dissipate.

Now what do we have here? There was no reason for Cabe’s return to Zuu. Knowing the human as he did, if Cabe had finished his mission, he would have returned home to the Manor the instant it was possible for him to do so. Yet, the blade tingled as if the warlock himself sat inside.

Only one way to discover the truth.

He entered the inn, all but ignoring the enticing smells. Belfour’s Champion was a bustling place and it was everything he could do just to scan the crowd while not looking suspicious. The blade hidden in his hand gave him focus. He carefully stumbled in the direction, noting with satisfaction that there were a few empty spots on some of the benches ahead of him. Should it become necessary, he could take one and pretend to wait for a serving girl while he continued to search.

The Gryphon passed around the shapely backside of a particularly fetching girl, then immediately dodged by two very overstuffed patrons on their way out. He paused to get his bearings and could not help but frown. The direction had now changed. Not only had he passed the location, but it was receding from him even as he stood there.

The Gryphon eyed the path he had taken. He saw no one that resembled the warlock. It was possible that Cabe was disguised and that although the lionbird wore a human face nearly identical to the one Cabe had known him by long ago, he would not know to look for one of his old companions in this faraway city. Still, something was wrong. Could his spell have caused him to follow a coin that the warlock had spent? Unlikely. The trail was too strong. Even if the coin or coins had just left his hands, Bedlam would have had to handle them for quite some time. It also would have required more than a few coins to create such a pull. They passed through too many hands too quickly to generally have much attachment to any one person.

Pretending to have sighted someone who might be an old chum, the Gryphon started back. His eyes carefully inspected each person. He sidestepped several more patrons entering, the same serving girl, and-

And the trail altered again. Out of the corner of his eye, the Gryphon glanced at the woman he had twice now passed.

The more he studied her, which was something no one there would have found unusual anyway, the more he was of the opinion that she had some secret. What?

I am becoming senile! He knew what it was now. Only sorcerers of some ability would even recognize it, which still gave him no excuse for not having noted it before. Now that he knew, the woman’s secret fairly screamed to him.

A sorceress! One of some mean skill, too, I would think!

What was her connection to Cabe? Why did his spell draw him to her?

She happened to turn in his direction then. Although his actions were still innocent enough, the look that passed briefly across her beautiful countenance told him that she knew he was not what he seemed. In fact, he was certain that she knew what he was, too.

It had to be the case. Suddenly the golden-haired woman found things to do that took her to the back of the inn. The Gryphon did not wonder whether she would return, only how many exits there might be back there. He doubted she would use her skills while still inside. A sorceress who worked in taverns and inns generally did so because she was hiding what she was. That meant he still had an opportunity to catch her.

The lionbird had not been idle while he had thought all this out. Already he was at the front doorway. If he could find her before she slipped away, it would simplify things for him. If the unknown enchantress did teleport away, he still had one trick up his sleeve. The same object that had first drawn him to her would allow him to find her again.

Despite the hour, or perhaps because of it, there were a number of folk wandering about. That encouraged him, for while it slowed his progress, she could hardly use her sorcery in front of people who might recognize her as working at the inn. The blade also informed him that she was still nearby, although it was possible that the sorceress had removed the item from her person. Since she could hardly know why he was after her, he did not think she would know to do that. If he was wrong . . .

The tug he had felt suddenly ceased.

Teleported! Cursing quietly, the Gryphon turned round. Nothing was ever too easy. Still, if she ran true to predictability, she was probably not too far away. Just far enough to consider herself safe.

Sure enough, he felt the same tug. Not for a moment did he think it was anything other than her. He had performed this spell too often, too.

Without hesitation, the Gryphon teleported after her.

She was facing his direction as he materialized, but caught off-guard, her reflexes were too slow. Moving with the inhuman swiftness that had allowed him to survive for so long, the lionbird reached forward and caught her with his good hand. Only after that was done did he become aware of where exactly they were. She was bolder than he had thought, for from their location, he could just make out the inn far to his left. The woman had been watching for him rather than simply escaping, an obvious sign that no matter how skilled she was, she was still a novice in many things.

“If you even think about escape, don’t.”

It was very clear that the serving woman understood. He could sense the tension coursing through her body. On the other hand, he could also sense the excitement she felt. The Gryphon was familiar with her type, having met more than his share. Very fortunate that neither Gwen nor Troia came with me! This was not the sort of woman either wife would care to see around their mates.

In the few seconds since his sudden arrival, she had already become bold enough to ask him questions. “Do we visit the king now?”

“Should we?” He decided to play along.

One thing she was, was quick. The toying smile that had started to spread across her exquisite face faltered. “You’re not with the king’s herd of pet mages.”

The rumored spellcasters of King Lanith. Now he understood her earlier panic. She was hiding, hiding from her own monarch.

“I should have known.” The smile had started spreading again. “You are much too talented for one of that bunch. Not to mention much more pleasant to look at.”

He kept her from reaching up and stroking his cheek. Had Troia been here, the scene would have become very unpleasant by now. In her own way, the woman before him was just as much a predator as his bride.

“Thank you, but I am spoken for.”

“From the way you followed me, I wouldn’t have believed that.” She leaned forward ever so slightly.

He leaned forward, too, but not because of the grand and glorious sight before him. “Do not play your games with me. I might surprise you.”

His tone was menacing enough that she quickly withdrew. Even subdued for the moment, however, the young enchantress was still imposing. She would be much more trouble in the years to come.

“What do you want of me? If you’re not from the king, then who are you?”

“My name is unimportant, but I believe you and I share an acquaintance. One from whom you have a token of remembrance.”

Her smile twisted into a grimace and one hand flinched. The lionbird reached toward a small belt pouch hanging against her thigh. He tore the pouch off. Releasing her but still keeping his eyes focused in her direction, the Gryphon opened the pouch.

There were several small items in the pouch, but only one that could belong to Cabe. The Gryphon’s high sensitivity to magical auras allowed him to pick it out. A small dagger that many people carried when traveling. It was more useful for mundane tasks than cutting thieves, but then Cabe Bedlam hardly had to worry about thieves . . . excepting this one, of course. “You planned to follow him at some point? Was not one rejection enough for you?”

“You’re his friend?”

“We go back a long way. How did you come by this?”

One look at his eyes warned her about lying. Unleashing her dazzling smile, she replied, “He came into the inn. I could see that he was different, one of us.”

“And so you tried to seduce him . . . for what?” He thought carefully. “Training and more, I imagine. The road to power for a mage.”

He had come close to the truth. The Gryphon understood the present situation concerning spellcasters. Hunted for years by the Dragon Kings, they were only now reappearing in any number. Other than Cabe and Gwen, he had only known a handful of mages of any ability who had survived the constant purges. Toos, once his second-in-command during his mercenary days, was one.

“What is your name?”

“Tori. Tori Winddancer.”

Winddancer, just the sort of name one found in this region. The appellation no doubt revolved around the swiftness of horses. She was a native of the kingdom of Zuu, then. There would be even less chance for her to find someone like her in this region. Although the Green Dragon was an ally to humans now and his particular line had always treated people fairly well, the days after the Turning War had seen the beginning of the strongest of the mage purges. That cleansing had been under the control of the Dragon Emperor, and knowing his counterpart in the Dagora Forest, it was said that extra care had been taken to make the purge in and around Dagora very thorough.

“What happened to my friend while he was here?”

“You heard about what happened near the stables?” At his nod, she continued. “That was him. That was some horse he had, too. I heard some people claim it could fly, but they probably didn’t know your friend was a warlock.”

And you do not know about Darkhorse, evidently. So much the better. “Were the king’s men after him?”

“The guards and the mages . . . or bumblers, after the way they handled him. He made fools out of them I hear.”

“You hear?”

She smiled again. “I left the moment I knew they were coming. Your friend didn’t understand about the medallion . . . but you do, I guess.”

“I’ve been around longer.” So now he had verification. Cabe and Darkhorse had run afoul of King Lanith’s tame spellcasters. He could not blame the warlock for leaving the incident out of his message to the Lady Bedlam; she had more than enough to worry about without adding this. It was over and done.

“Are you through with me or would you like to talk of other things now?” From the way she looked at him, it was clear what she meant.

“There are those who will aid in your training without you having to resort to seduction.”

“I’m looking for more than training as you know, silver hair.” She tried to touch the hair, but he blocked her hand. “I’m looking for much more than that.”

“My wife would claw you into little pieces if she knew you had even been this familiar with me. Literally claw you.”

“What is she, a cat?”

“Yes.”

She looked at him carefully, expecting some sign of amusement, then saw that he was deadly earnest. “Some people will marry into the strangest families. A human and a cat?”

“Did I say I was human?”

Tori had no response to that, but he noted that she leaned back a little, as if seeing him in a new and unnerving light. “I asked you a question. Are you finished with me?”

“Nearly. Are you familiar-” He paused as a drunken trader dressed in the clothes of Gordag-Ai stumbled in their direction. He heard other voices nearby. The Gryphon took Tori’s arm. She did not resist but neither did she try her charms on him again. His comments concerning himself and his mate had her wondering. “Let us walk back to the inn. Be friendly.”

The enchantress nodded. Ahead of them, the trader was trying to decide which side of the narrow street he wanted to give up to them. The Gryphon pointed to his left and the man steered that way. Turning his attention back to Tori, he started to ask his question again.

The footsteps of the drunken man stilled.

A normal man would have been too slow and that fact was perhaps all that saved the Gryphon, for it probably made his attacker just overconfident enough. He threw the woman to one side as the trader fell upon him, knife in one hand. The lionbird heard Tori gasp, but then his attention became completely focused on the battle situation. His adversary weighed far more than he should have, which made the Gryphon certain that beneath the outfit one would find armor.

Black armor.

He had grown careless, spending too much of his time on some things and forgetting his own thought that there might be spies here. He had also grown careless in another way, for the face he wore now was the one he often preferred. Cabe would not be the only one capable of recognizing it. After so many years of facing him, it was not surprising that many of the raiders, especially the spies, would recognize that striking countenance on sight. The Gryphon knew he had not only become careless, but also vain. Had he chosen faces of less distinction, he might have avoided this. His maimed hand might still have given him away, but not nearly as quickly as his vanity had.

They struggled on the ground, the wolf raider maintaining his advantage above through sheer weight and the Gryphon’s inability to get a strong enough grip with his damaged hand. The raider’s own features were nondescript, as was most common with those in his profession, but the quiet determination he radiated told the Gryphon that his adversary was a veteran of many a campaign. There would be no room for mistakes against this man.

If physical strength was not enough to rid him of his assailant, then the lionbird was more than willing to resort to his magical skills. When the situation called for it, one took the advantages one was given and sense of honor be damned, that was his belief. Survival first and foremost.

The Aramite must have known what he was attempting, for suddenly he abandoned the knife attack and, disregarding injury to himself, swung his head down, catching the Gryphon square in the forehead.

It was all the Gryphon could do to keep from blacking out. Worse, the force was enough to make the back of his head strike the ground. The world around him began to spin. His grip weakened, allowing the wolf raider to press his advantage.

“My life for yours!” the dark figure hissed. “A small price for the empire’s triumph!”

So now it ends, he managed to think. Cut down at night in a street far from anything I might call home.

He heard a small, startled grunt from the raider. The weight on his body shifted to one side. Instinct took over. The Gryphon followed the shifting of the weight and pushed his attacker off in that direction. He heard a clatter and realized that the knife had fallen from the Aramite’s hand. Now, even with his head still ringing, the advantage was becoming his.

The raider was by no means defeated, however. Once more he tried to butt heads. The lionbird was ready for him, however, and tipped his own head out of the way. Then he did the only thing he could think of doing that would end the flight in swift fashion.

He transformed. For most shapeshifters, such an act would have left them helpless for a few precious seconds. For the Gryphon, long practiced at shaping at a moment’s notice, it was not so. Two decades of war had kept that ability well honed.

The spy let out a yelp that the Gryphon’s taloned hand all but muffled. Taken back by the astonishing sight of his adversary shifting form, the Aramite was too slow to block the attack that came next. With grim satisfaction, the Gryphon twisted his adversary’s head to one side, snapping his neck.

Verifying that the man was dead, he slowly rose and whispered, “Your life for that of my son . . . hardly a balance but certainly a beginning.”

It was only then that he recalled Tori. He transformed back into a human even as he turned to where he had last left her. It was not surprising to find her gone. Still, something had caused the Aramite to grunt in pain and shift his weight. It could only have been an attack of some sort by the enchantress. A kick in the head, he suspected. Why bring attention to herself as a spellcaster when a simple physical assault worked as effectively?

The area had grown conspicuously devoid of people and the Gryphon knew that such emptiness usually preceded an appearance by the local guard. He regretted that he had allowed his anger to seize mastery; the spy might have given him some further information, including how many of his ilk had already spread through Zuu. The city guard would have to be satisfied with the corpse. Certainly any other spies in the city would go into hiding now that one of their number was dead and they had no way of knowing who was responsible. This one had acted on his own; if there had been more, they would have entered the struggle, for he was not flattering himself when he thought they considered him a target of prime importance.

The brief respite, however much it might have put him in danger of being sighted by the city guard, had served its purpose. His head still throbbed, but his concentration was sufficient for spellcasting. It was time to leave Zuu and follow Cabe’s trail.

Trail. The Gryphon searched for the knife that the woman Tori had stolen from Cabe, but found nothing. It might have been thrown into the darkness during the struggle, but he suspected it was once more in the hands of the enchantress. She would gain small success with it now, however. In the short time he had held it, he had made a few magical alterations. If she sought out the warlock after this, she would simply reappear in the same location she had started from. Let her search for Cabe Bedlam if she chose, but she would have to do it on her own.

One of the first lessons in magic is to never assume it will always work the way you desire.

It was a lesson he tried to remind himself of each and every day. It was a lesson he was certain he would need to recall when he entered the desolate domain of the Crystal Dragon.

The city guard was near. With one last bitter glance at the raider’s sprawled body, the Gryphon regripped the guiding blade and teleported away . . .

. . . to the hills of Esedi.

The trail was stronger here, as he had expected. The blade had probably brought him to within a few yards of where Cabe himself had materialized. He allowed himself a brief human smile, for teleportation was always a chancy thing when one was not familiar with the location, then let his human guise melt away since it was no longer needed.

Cabe and Darkhorse had done fairly well in their choice of locations. Under normal conditions, they would have enjoyed an excellent view of the eastern portion of the peninsula. Not all of it, of course, but enough to enable them to plan the journey’s beginning. Legar was not as massive a region as Esedi or even the immense Dagora Forest, but it was filled with hills, crevices, and a system of underground caverns that rivaled those in the Tyber Mountains. Add to the treacherous, uneven landscape possible encounters with the Quel and now the wolf raiders, and you had very good reasons to move slowly and carefully through Legar.

And now this mist . . . He was familiar with the Grey Mists, the dank, mind-sapping haze that covered Lochivar. Lochivar, on the southeastern edge of the Dragonrealm, was the kingdom of the Black Dragon, who was the source of that magical fog. Knowing what the Grey Mists could do, the Gryphon was glad he had not simply decided to teleport into this murk. Even from here he could sense its evil. There was something wild about it, but it was the wildness of a thing in its death throes, for there was also a feeling of decay about it.

If this is how it seems under the dimness of the moons, then how is it in the daytime? Worse? How will it be when I actually enter it? He would find out soon enough. There was no real reason to remain here for even a fraction of the time he had spent in the city. Cabe and Darkhorse would have waited here only long enough to prepare themselves for Legar and the Gryphon was as prepared as he would ever be. He would learn nothing new from these silent hills, nothing that would aid his mission and his vengeance.

Nothing? He paused, noticing something for the first time. Why was it so deathly quiet here? Was the poison covering Legar so great that the wildlife could not stand to be even this close to it? That could not be. In the distance, the lionbird could barely make out a few of the normal sounds of night, nocturnal birds and animals. It was only this one region where the creatures had either grown silent or fled. Only the region in which he stood.

The Gryphon’s sword was out and ready before his next breath.

“Well, I must admit I was not expecting you!”

From the darkness emerged a huge shape blacker than the night. Ice-blue eyes glittered without the aid of the moons’ poor illumination.

“Darkhorse!”

The shadow steed dipped his head. “You are far from your war, Lord Gryphon, but then your war seems to have strayed as well!”

“You’ve seen them then. The raiders.”

“Seen them and fought them!”

“Fought them . . . and where is Cabe, then, demon steed?” Was he too late for the warlock? Had D’Farany added to his list of victims already?

The leviathan’s response did not encourage him. “I . . . lost him.”

“He-”

“No!” Darkhorse grew vehement. “He is not dead! He cannot be! We were merely separated in the foul mist! He said nothing and I thought he must be behind me, keeping clear!”

The Gryphon cut him off with a curt gesture. His general uneasiness around the pitch-black creature had given way to his concern for Cabe Bedlam and the need to know what sort of things he might face in shrouded Legar. “Tell me from the beginning. Speak carefully, tell me all, but do so fairly quickly.”

Darkhorse’s easy acquiescence surprised him at first until he reminded himself that Cabe Bedlam was one of the eternal’s few true friends. The telling of the tale was short and swift. When it was over, it was clear that Darkhorse was dismayed by what he considered his terrible carelessness. There was something more to what had happened than what the shadow steed had related to him, however. Whatever it was, its roots went deep. Some distraction in the eternal’s mind that had caused Darkhorse not to notice that he and the warlock were being purposely separated.

Oddly, knowing that the creature from the Void could become so distraught lessened some of the Gryphon’s wariness of him. He felt he understood the workings of Darkhorse’s mind better than he ever had in the past.

“The monstrosity you fought was an illusion, you say?”

“Yes, and when I turned to comment so to Cabe, he was also gone! I never heard him call out!”

“He might have, but you still might not have heard him. In that place, I would not be surprised.” The Gryphon stared at the mist, so unsettling, so hungry, even in the calm of night. “You couldn’t find his trail, either.”

“I detected nothing! I, Darkhorse, could not sense him!”

“Yes . . .” The lionbird contemplated the situation. The knowledge that the wolf raiders were active throughout Legar made his mane bristle and his claws unsheathe. He wanted to hunt down each and every one of the marauders like the animals they were and savor their deaths; yet the Gryphon knew that not only would it still not fill the hole inside, but he could not abandon a friend. In that he and the shadow steed were one. Cabe Bedlam was missing and if he had been captured by the Aramites, then there would be opportunity enough for the Gryphon to try to satiate his need for vengeance. If Cabe’s fate was otherwise, then the raiders would have to wait. He had no doubt that they would still be there. Once the Aramites gained a foothold, the only way to remove them was to kill them.

He was willing to try, but not now.

“Do you think you can find the last place you left him?”

Darkhorse gazed out at the ominous mass blanketing Legar. “I might be able to take us that far, but what use will it be?”

“It may be of some use, believe me.” The Gryphon revealed the small blade he had utilized to follow the warlock’s trail this far. “You had nothing of his to aid you in your search.”

“Even if I had, I do not think it would have worked. The mist has the taint of Nimth upon it, Lord Gryphon! You are one of the few with sufficient knowledge to understand what that means! You also knew Shade!” The shadow steed paused. “Nothing works as it should down there! The laws of magic-the laws of nature-cannot be trusted in Legar so long as that foulness remains!”

“We can only try.” The lionbird gazed at the blade. “This may be Cabe’s best, possibly only hope. Our combined skills might prove to be enough to overwhelm it.”

“Overwhelm Nimth? You must surely jest! I knew the Vraad! I knew Shade!”

The black stallion’s tone each time he spoke of the blur-faced warlock revealed volumes to the Gryphon. Shade was somehow tied to Darkhorse’s troubles. What had the Bedlams’ messages said? Darkhorse continued to search for Shade as if he might somehow have survived. Was he that afraid of the tortured warlock?

No, not afraid. If there was anyone who might understand Darkhorse and what he is, it would have been Shade.

He had no time to ponder further. Darkhorse’s inner struggles would have to wait until there was peace, assuming that ever happened. Now it was time for Legar.

“This is not Nimth and neither the Crystal Dragon nor the wolf raiders are Vraad. What exists down there can only be a reflection of Nimth’s chaos. I think that if we try the spell from as near as possible to the place where you two became separated, then we stand a chance. If it fails . . . we still have to enter. You know that Cabe would have returned here by now if he could have. He would know to do that.”

Darkhorse kicked at the ground. “I know that, Lord Gryphon! Ha! I have been thinking about it since I materialized back here! I thought he might have accidentally teleported elsewhere, but there is no place here that I have not searched and if he in some way eluded my search he would, indeed, still have returned to this location by now!”

“Then we should not hesitate any longer.”

“Very well.” Darkhorse trotted closer. “You shall have to ride me as he did, Your Majesty! We did not trust that we would arrive at the same destination, this being the Crystal Dragon’s realm. The foul fog makes the danger of that worse.”

“I agree.” As he mounted, the lionbird thought of what his companion had just said. “And do you also find it odd that the Dragon King has been so quiet even though he has in the past always dealt swiftly with those who would disturb his existence?”

A snort. “I still think that this was his doing! I, for one, would not call this doing nothing!”

“Nothing it certainly isn’t, demon steed, but it’s an unfocused, dangerous method by which to rid himself of the Aramites. If this was the Crystal Dragon’s doing, I would like to know why he chose such madness as a tool. It is as much a risk, perhaps more, as the wolf raiders are.”

“Be that as it may, we still have to journey through it!” The leviathan swung his head around so that he faced dark Legar. “Give me but a moment and I will be ready.” Darkhorse’s head tilted to one side. “Curious!”

The Gryphon leaned forward and tried to see what interested his mount so. “What is it? I don’t see anything.”

Darkhorse shook his head, sending his mane flying. “I suspect wishful thinking is all it is! When I stare at the fog, it looks not quite so dense as it was earlier! Truly, it must be the moonlight!”

Squinting, the Gryphon could see nothing. If there had been a change in the density of the fog, he could not tell. From the shadow horse’s words, it would have happened before he had even teleported to here. Whether or not it had happened, the lionbird could still not make out even the slightest detail beneath the upper surface of the shroud of fog.

Darkhorse finally stirred. “Well! It matters not! We must find Cabe! That is all that matters!”

That, a legion of wolf raiders, and a Dragon King who does not act as one would expect, the Gryphon silently corrected as he held tight. Other than those few things, we have nothing to worry about.