Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

V

“If you think that I’ll let you make this journey alone, Cabe, then you’ve not known the true me even after all these years!”

Had he been anyone else, the warlock would have been more than a little fearful at the sight his wife now presented. She was, for the moment, the woodland goddess, the Lady of the Amber, that many still thought her. Power radiated from her. Her brilliant scarlet tresses fluttered with a life of their own and she seemed to stand almost twice as tall as Cabe. Her emerald eyes sparkled bright, twin green flames that, at other times, had driven him to pleasant distraction. The expression on her face he had only seen once or twice in the past and both those times had been when her children had been threatened.

It hurt him to see her like this, for he knew that it was only her love and fear for him that had raised such a fury.

“You know what we agreed, Gwen. It’s not for us; it’s for the children. It isn’t fair to risk both of us. Someone has to be there for them . . . just in case. You were the one who originally thought that up, remember.”

“I know.” She looked bitter. “But it would be easier if it was me who had to take the risk. Then I’d know that you were safe and watching the children. Whatever I faced, I would be able to face it better knowing that.”

“And I wouldn’t? Gwen, you know that you’re my partner as well as my mate, but this time it has to be me and me alone. The visions came to me-”

“And Aurim.”

He conceded her point. “But I think it might be because he and I are so much alike in many ways. The second time, only I saw the images. Besides, I can’t take him with me. He’s not ready . . . unless his control has greatly benefited from the other day.”

Gwen managed a smile. “This morning I found one of the stick men wandering through the garden. Apparently, when Aurim tried to reverse his spell, he couldn’t keep track of them all and this one escaped. No, even if I was willing to risk our son-which I am not-I agree that he is not ready.”

“Good.”

“But I will not let you go alone, either. At least wait for the Green Dragon to recover.”

“It’ll be too late. Physically, the attack did little, but magically, it’s drained him. He’ll be too weak for some time.” The warlock strode the length of the bedroom to one of the windows overlooking the gardens. Below, the people whose lives he guided went about their daily activities, only vaguely aware that some important event now occupied the interests of their lord and lady. The two spellcasters had been at this since waking . . . actually, since the night before, when he had broached the subject. He had waited until he was certain of the Dragon King’s condition, because he had hoped the same as her. The Master of the Dagora Forest had agreed that the situation was too great to ignore and had wanted to join him, but at the moment he was even less capable of aiding Cabe than the warlock’s young daughter Valea was.

“Then I have to go with you.” She joined him by the window, leaning against his back and putting her arms around him. “We will have to ask Toos to watch the children.”

“I can just see that. I have another idea.”

“What?” Her tone indicated that any idea would be welcome as long as it meant that he would be safe. Unfortunately, both of them knew that there could be no such idea as long as he planned to journey into the depths of Legar, especially if there were wolf raiders there.

“I’m going to try to find Darkhorse. I think I know where he might be and I think that he would be willing to help.”

There had been a time, long ago, when the mere mention of the demonic creature would have brought nothing but a stone silence from the enchantress. Darkhorse was a thing of the Void, an empty place beyond the plane of men. Though he had long worn the form of a giant, shadowy steed, he was more a living hole. His ways were not always the ways of other living creatures, if living was a term that could be applied to what he was.

In truth, it was not only what he was that had made him a thing somewhat repulsive to the enchantress, but also the company he had kept. Darkhorse had been a companion to Shade, the warlock whose quest for immortality and power had made him a force swinging from light to darkness with each new incarnation. Only Darkhorse-and perhaps Cabe and Queen Erini, who had come to know the faceless warlock best toward the end-mourned Shade.

Gwen had finally reconciled with Darkhorse, in great part because of his friendship with Cabe. “If you could find him, I would feel much better about this, but that raises the point. How do you hope to find him quickly? He could be anywhere and you yourself said that you really only had this one day, a day we’ve already used part of. He could be anywhere, even beyond the Dragonrealm, you know.”

The dark-haired warlock exhaled. “Other than us, there’s only one person he ever truly visits.”

“Erini.”

“Erini. I’ll visit her and ask if she’s seen him or has news of him. I only wish I’d thought of it when we were there last.”

The enchantress released him and came to his side. She joined him in watching some of the drake and human workers carry a pair of long benches into the depths of the garden. The Bedlams had encouraged their people to make use of the sculpted land, providing they were careful about maintaining it. The population of their tiny domain had grown, however, and so it had become necessary to make some additions and changes to the gardens.

“Melicard may not be too pleased to see you back so soon. I’ve often wondered whether he still blames us in part for his father.”

“Blames me, you mean. Kyrg and Toma were hunting for me when Kyrg brought his army to the gates of Talak.” Cabe frowned, recalling the young prince he had first met. At the time, he had shared much in common with Melicard. Both of them had been unseasoned, naive, when they had been thrust into the center of things. It had cost Melicard his father, but at the same time it had cost Cabe more. He had lost not only the elf who had raised him and had been more of a father to him than Azran ever could have, but also, albeit only in spirit, his grandfather. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter what the truth is in this case. Melicard is Melicard. We have to live with that and I’ve got to put up with that when I arrive there.”

“Then you had best depart now.”

Cabe realized that he had been hesitating, that he could have left minutes before but had talked on. He leaned forward and kissed his wife. It was a kiss that spoke too much of the fact that while they would likely see each other again before he departed for Legar itself, it would only be for a very, very short time.

“Good-bye,” he whispered . . . and disappeared.

Under normal circumstances, Cabe would have materialized in one of the greeting areas where dignitaries from other kingdoms awaited an audience with Melicard. Times were not normal, however, and so the warlock chose to instead appear in the most likely chamber where he might find the queen. He hoped to locate her and find out what information he could, then leave before Melicard discovered his presence. It would be easier that way.

Erini took her lessons and tested her magical skills in what had once been an auxiliary training room for the palace guard. Much to his misfortune, though, she was not there this day. Cabe had hoped she had been practicing. It was the right time of day, but he knew that Erini occasionally altered her schedule. Scratching his chin, he contemplated his next move. There were perhaps two or three other places he might find the queen alone, no more. Other than those locations, he stood a good chance of confronting the king, too.

She was not in the riding range nor was she in the next location he visited, the private rooms of Princess Lynnette, only child of the king and queen. Standing among the elegant but fanciful pictures of woodland creatures that decorated the princess’s chambers, Cabe quietly swore; he did not have time to go running about searching for Queen Erini. Time was short enough. There was still the monumental task of locating Darkhorse.

He recalled then another place. There was a possibility that the king might also be there, but it was less likely than his remaining choices. He teleported.

She was sitting in a chair, a tiny globe of light shining above her head, when Cabe manifested not more than an arm’s length before her. Queen Erini dropped the book she had been reading and gasped, but she was quick-witted enough to recognize the warlock and thereby stifle the scream that would have surely followed.

“Cabe! By Rheena! You know that you are always welcome in my presence, but certainly this is rather extreme!”

Queen Erini of Talak did not much resemble the image of a sorceress or a witch as most in the Dragonrealm thought of the type. She seemed, in fact, more the perfect storybook princess. Slim and delicate in appearance, with long tresses the color of summer accenting her oval face, Erini looked hardly out of her teens even though she was long past that time. Her pale features were without flaw. Unlike the day of her last lesson, she was now clad in a more sensible and less formal silver and red dress, one that a person could actually walk around and sit down in. It still had its share of jewels sewn into it and the typical puffed sleeves of royal garments, but otherwise it was actually rather plain. He suspected it was probably her favorite dress for that very reason. When last he had seen her, she had been wearing an elaborate gown of gold, an affectation of her former homeland, Gordag-Ai. It had completed the image of a young queen who should have been more at home doing embroidery in the company of her ladies-in-waiting than attempting to perform a magical spell of moderate complexity. Yet while it was true that Erini was fond of embroidery, she was also a woman who had let it be known long ago that she would be more than a showpiece for her husband, King Melicard I. She was a person who followed her own mind in all things, although she did respect the opinions and thoughts of others, especially her husband.

The king, to the surprise of many in those first years, had argued little. He loved his wife for what she was, not what she represented.

Cabe Bedlam quickly knelt before her. It was likely not necessary, for Erini considered both spellcasters her social equals, but it made Cabe feel better for the shock he had given her. “Forgive me, Queen Erini! I searched for you in the most obvious places and then recalled your fondness for the royal library.” The bluerobed warlock glanced around at the impressive array of tomes that had been collected in the oak-paneled room. Other than Penacles, the City of Knowledge, Talak boasted one of the finest collections of writing in the Dragonrealm. The books were, for the most part, copies, however. Melicard had sent scribes throughout the continent on quests to obtain access to whatever bits of writing they could find. At Erini’s urging, he was now also having some of the copies copied so that others could share in what his people had discovered. “I’ve come on urgent business so my arrival was a bit more abrupt than I would’ve wished. I hope that you will overlook my transgression.”

“Only if you take a chair and cease to be so formal, Master Bedlam.” She indicated one of the half-dozen elegant and padded chairs situated in the carpeted room. A slight smile played at her lips. “And you need not fear my husband’s presence. He is engaged in some proper time with his daughter, someone he sees too little of considering the great love he bears for her.”

“My thanks, Que-Erini.” Although Cabe’s body was tense with anxiety, he forced himself to sit across from the queen.

The warlock waited until she had picked up her book and put it on the tiny table beside her. The ball of light, which had bobbled about during her initial fright, remained situated above her head. Cabe nodded at the magical lamp. “I see you’ve been practicing. It’s very steady.”

“I only wish I’d practiced years ago. To think of the time I’ve wasted!”

He shook his head. “I wish you’d quit thinking that. Erini, if there’s one thing I know, you’ve not wasted time. You have a husband and a beautiful young daughter. You’ve made Melicard a king more accessible to the people’s needs.” Cabe waved a hand at the rows of neatly arranged books. “You’ve encouraged learning to read. The only access I ever had to reading was what Hadeen the elf owned. In fact, the only reason I ever learned to read was because of him. Now, you threaten to make Talak second only to Penacles in the education of its subjects.” He folded his arms. “I could give more examples, but that should be sufficient.”

“I threaten to make Talak second to none, actually,” the slim monarch replied. The smile had not only returned, but it had spread. “You are correct, Cabe, but I still cannot help feeling angry at myself for all those years I left my power to languish.”

“You’d seen too much death and destruction. It wasn’t what you were raised for.”

“Neither were you.”

Cabe shook his head. “I am Nathan Bedlam’s grandson and the birth child of Azran. If I wasn’t raised to be in the midst of trouble, I don’t know who is. Somehow, trouble generally finds me . . . which brings me back to why I’m here.” The warlock leaned forward, his voice quiet. “I’d hoped to find Darkhorse here. I can detect traces of his presence, but nothing strong enough to tell me if he is near or where he might have gone. I need his aid, if he’s willing to give it, on a journey into the midst of the Legar Peninsula.”

“You are talking about the Crystal Dragon’s domain!”

“I am. This is no ordinary trek, either. If it were, I might be willing to travel alone. Under normal circumstances, the Crystal Dragon would ignore me unless I tried to invade his caverns.”

Erini’s gaze was steady. “And now?”

“And now, there may be an army camped in the very midst of his kingdom. An army under the banner of the wolf.”

“The Aramites? The rumors are true?” She paled slightly. “I think that perhaps Melicard should be here. Commander Iston, too.” Iston, a native of Erini’s homeland, had, for the past several years, been Talak’s chief intelligence gatherer.

“Please!” Cabe almost jumped from his chair. “Not until I’m gone. Then you can tell him everything. The important thing is that I need to discover just exactly what is happening. That’s why I was hoping to find Darkhorse.”

“And if you don’t find him?”

“Then I’ll go there alone.”

Her left hand tightened into a fist and her voice grew deathly quiet. “Gwendolyn would never accept that.”

“She won’t know until it’s too late. I’ll make certain of that if I have to, Erini. I won’t have her coming after me.”

It was clear that she did not agree with him, but she finally nodded. “As you wish, Cabe. This means that I must help you find Darkhorse no matter what. I would never be able to face Gwen if something happened to you because I failed to locate him for you.”

“She’d never hold you responsible.”

“No, but I would.” The queen rose, smoothed her dress with her hands, and stared off into space, her perfect features twisting into an expression of intense concentration. “He’s not been here of late and I’ve not been expecting him. Therein lies our greatest problem. There are two places that we generally meet, though. One lies within the palace and the other far beyond Talak’s high walls.”

“Outside?” The notion that Melicard would allow Erini to wander beyond the safety of the city rather surprised the warlock.

“If you think that your relationship with my husband has its tentative moments, you should ask Darkhorse about his own experiences. The only thing that truly holds them together is me, Cabe. Melicard is grateful for what the shadow steed did for me when Mal Quorin, my husband’s traitorous counselor, sought to take Talak for his master, the Silver Dragon. Darkhorse knows that I love Melicard. Both of them, however, remember the circumstances under which they met, when my husband-to-be had poor Drayfitt snare and imprison the eternal and even torture him in his quest to make Darkhorse his servant.”

Cabe shivered. He recalled that. Darkhorse was not a forgiving sort, either, not that anyone could blame him.

“Sometimes, especially when I am around, they are very cordial, almost friendly, but their mutual past always returns. That’s why there are times when it is better to visit Darkhorse in a place far from the eyes of my husband. I love my husband but I will not abandon my friends . . . as you know.”

“I do.” Rising, the blue-robed spellcaster readied himself for what was to come. “Where’s the first location? The one in the palace.”

“My private rooms.” She took his hand. “Please. Allow me.”

Even as the queen finished speaking, the scene around them shifted. They now stood in the midst of a vast, elegant suite of the like that made Cabe stare in open awe. Huge columns stood in each corner of the chamber, the white marble decorated with golden flowers so lifelike he at first thought them real. The floor was also marble, but of different colors arranged in a beautiful abstract pattern. Long, thick fur rugs ran from the massive wooden bed to each of the four doorways. Where there were no doors, gay tapestries decorated the walls. A row of closets spoke of the volumes of clothing royalty wore, as did the wide mirror to the side of the closets.

The bed and the rest of the wooden furniture in the suite had all been carved from the now-rare northern oak. The wood had not been so rare at the time of their creation, but the winter of the Ice Dragon had created enough damage that the oaks had still not yet recovered. Despite the magic that had been used to reverse the effects of the magical winter, the most northern places had still suffered much too much.

As impressive as his surroundings were, they paled in comparison to what the queen had just done. “You did that without flaw, Erini! I waited, thinking I’d probably have to help you along, but you brought us here as if you’d been practicing for years.”

“No, for some reason I find that spell easier to perform. It only took me three or four attempts to master the proper concentration for it. Why is that, do you think?”

Cabe shrugged. “Gwen is the one who usually has the answers. With me, magic came almost full-blown. That saved my life in the beginning, but it means I never really had the incentive to learn why spells work the way they do. Gwen’s taught me much since then, but that still doesn’t mean I understand completely.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Which is why for the fine points, my wife has been instructing you.”

“You have both been excellent teachers.”

“I muddle through.” The warlock again glanced around at the sumptuous apartment. “A room definitely fit for a queen, Erini.”

“It is exactly the way it was when I first arrived in Talak. Such a waste of a room,” the queen commented dryly. “Since I do not sleep here, the only use it usually gets is when I must be dressed for yet another interminable ball for some ambassador and the necessary gown is not among those in my closets in our royal suite. Still, there are times when it’s nice to be alone . . . and it gives Darkhorse and me a place to talk. The library is too cramped, too.”

“Then why do you need the other location? This seems private enough.”

“Darkhorse rarely talks below a roar, Cabe. You should know that.” Erini strolled around the room, visibly recalling memories. Cabe knew that this was where she had first stayed after her arrival in Talak. This apartment had been her refuge in the days when she had first struggled to be accepted by the disfigured king, whose torn mind had been further turned to the dark by his malicious counselor. He did not doubt that she kept it as it was rather than alter it to some other use simply because of those precious memories.

As loath as he was to interrupt her reverie, he knew he had to. The day was advancing quickly. “Your Majesty . . . Erini . . .”

“Yes, he is not here, of course.” Her memories put aside for now, the slim monarch pondered the matter at hand. “That only leaves the hills. I wish I could be more help to you. Can you not follow his trace?”

“Too old and too faint. It also crosses itself so many times, I couldn’t tell which way he went last. If he teleported, that makes it even closer to impossible.”

“And I thought magic made everything easy.”

“Sometimes it makes things more convoluted and frustrating, not to mention life-threatening. There’re times when I wish I was back in that tavern, still waiting on tables and getting threatened by half-drunk ogres. Dragon Kings, Seekers, Quel . . . I could do without all of them.”

“But not without the Lady Gwendolyn, I imagine.” The queen moved to the center of the room and reached out a hand to him.

“Makes everything else worthwhile.” Cabe took her hand and steadied himself, more comfortable now that he knew that Erini was adept at this spell.

“I hope you tell her that on occasion,” Erini responded even as their surroundings shifted from the planned elegance of civilization to the raw beauty of nature. She released his hand and stepped away from him in order to better survey the region. The hills were actually the beginning of the Tyber Mountains, but somewhere in the planning, they had been cheated of the great height of their brothers. While few folk ever cared to make the journey through the treacherous chain, the hills did garner some traffic of their own. There was good grazing land here, not to mention the only decent wood within a day’s ride of the city. Talak, for all it had, was forced to go to its more outward lands to fill its wood needs.

There were dangers here, of course, but generally only the ordinary ones such as wolves and the rare wyvern or minor drake. Since the death of the Dragon Emperor, Melicard’s vast forces had worked hard to clear every corner of the kingdom of the monsters and larger beasts that had once preyed on travelers. For the most part, they had been quite successful.

“I was afraid of this, Cabe. I doubted he would be here, but it was the only place left that I could bring you.”

He nodded, his smile one of resignation rather than pleasure. “I didn’t think it would be easy. I’ve got a few other ideas, but I was hoping that I’d find him with or near you.”

Erini was downcast, but then her face brightened. “I can help you search for him! The teleportation spell is my best. I should have thought of that before. It will cut your searching by nearly half!”

“No.”

“No?” Her tone became frost. “Do you think to command me, Cabe?”

“In this instance, yes, Your Majesty. You are too important to Melicard, Talak, and, because of both, the rest of the Dragonrealm. If anything happened to you, what would the king do? Think on that before you answer me.”

She did. He watched as her face fell. Both of them were too familiar with Melicard’s moods. It was Erini who had changed him for the better, but those changes might slip away if she was injured or even . . .

Her eyes suddenly widened. “There’s . . . I think there might be one more place to search, Cabe. It’s a thin possibility, but it just might be . . .”

“Where?”

“I’ll have to take you there; it’s . . . it’s the only way to make certain we arrive at the proper location.”

The warlock caught the hesitation in her voice. “Where is it, Erini?”

“In the Northern Wastes.”

“I forbid you from coming! Tell me approximately where and I’ll go there my-”

Erini stalked up to Cabe and gave him her most royal glare. He hesitated just long enough for her to interject, “You can forbid me nothing this time, Cabe Bedlam! As frustrating as it is to me personally, I concede to you that it would be better for us if I did not risk myself! I love Melicard, but I agree that if I were injured or even came close to harm he might, in his unreasoning anger, do something that we would all regret! I have a very good reason, however, for needing to lead you to this one last location. The Northern Wastes are nearly half the size of the rest of the continent and far more troublesome to search. You could pass within yards of the area and not see Darkhorse standing before you. I can lead you to the exact spot; like him, I will never forget it.”

Her skin was pale and her body trembled. Queen Erini stared at Cabe in such a manner that he knew she would have actually preferred not to make this final trek. Only the importance of his mission compelled her to do so.

“What is this place, Erini?” he asked quietly. “And why would it have such a hold on both you and Darkhorse?”

“Because it is where the warlock Shade died.”

He had never been able to convince himself that the blur-faced warlock was dead. At the same time, he had never been able to convince himself that Shade was still alive.

So Darkhorse had searched the world and beyond for nearly a decade, always wondering if the human who had been both his friend and enemy was merely one step ahead of him, watching and waiting for the proper time to emerge. One part of the shadow steed hoped and prayed that the weary sorcerer was at last at peace. The other missed the good incarnations of the man, for only Shade had ever come close to understanding Darkhorse’s own emptiness.

Which was why, Erini told Cabe before they departed for the Wastes, he often stood for days at the site where the warlock had simply faded away after expending all his might in a last effort to make up for what he had become.

When they materialized in the midst of the freezing, windwracked tundra of the Northern Wastes, it was almost as if he had been waiting for them. The queen brought them to a point barely ten feet from where the huge ebony stallion was situated.

Darkhorse slowly turned his massive head toward them. His ice-blue eyes seemed to burn into the warlock’s very soul. The eternal’s voice was a thunderous rumble even despite the rather subdued tone. “Erini. Cabe. It’s good to see both of you. This is not a place for your kind, however.”

“We . . . we came in . . . in search of you, Darkhorse,” the queen managed.

Studying her, Cabe Bedlam grew worried. Erini was a competent sorceress, but it was possible that she had overextended herself. He had provided himself with a heavy cloak to offset the cold, but she had not done the same even though the need should have been obvious. The warlock quickly remedied the situation.

Erini gave him a weak smile. “Thank you.”

Darkhorse’s hooves kicked away snow and ice as he moved closer. At his present height, he was half again the size of a normal steed. Size, however, was irrelevant to a creature who could manipulate his form in ways no other shapeshifter could. Had he chosen, the ebony eternal could have become as small as a rabbit, even smaller. He need not have resembled a horse, either. Somewhere in the far, forgotten past, Darkhorse had hit upon the form and found it to his liking. The black stallion rarely shifted anymore, although occasionally his body would resemble more the shadow of a horse than the real animal. Cabe had decided that this last was an almost unconscious action. There were things that were normal for a human to do; the same likely could be said even for as unique an entity as the black leviathan before them.

“You should not be out here in the cold, Queen Erini!” roared Darkhorse. It was almost necessary to roar; the wind had picked up. A storm was building. It was hard for the warlock to believe that anything could live in the Northern Wastes, but many creatures did. “We should return to Talak! It will be much more cozy there . . . at least for you two!” The demonic steed chuckled.

“I-” was as far as Erini got. Suddenly she was falling toward Cabe. He caught her at the last moment and stumbled back under her sudden weight. Darkhorse’s eyes glittered. He trotted a few more steps toward them.

“What ails her?”

Cabe adjusted his grip. “She pushed herself too far! She insisted that she be the one to bring us here and like a fool I agreed!”

Darkhorse snorted. “I doubt you had much choice with her! Best take her back to her chambers quick!”

“The private ones where you two sometimes meet?”

“You know them? Good! Take her there! I shall follow! Perhaps, if we are fortunate, good Melicard will be out running down drakes or some such foolishness! Hurry now!”

Tightening his hold, the warlock teleported-

– and found himself face-to-face with King Melicard, who stood within the suite, one hand on the door handle. Another moment and it was likely they would have missed one another, for he was turned as if just planning to depart.

There were still those to whom the lord of Talak was an effrontery or even a thing of horror. Melicard no longer cared what those people thought. Erini and Princess Lynnette were the only two whose opinions mattered to him and they, of course, loved him dearly.

Despite the yoke of leadership he had worn for almost two decades, Melicard at first glance still looked very much like the handsome young prince that Cabe, with his own rather ordinary features, had always secretly envied. Tall and athletic with brownish hair just now turning a bit to gray, he had once been the desire of many a woman, both royal and common. If Erini was the storybook princess, then Melicard, with his strong, angular features and commanding presence, was the hero of the tale.

He was still handsome . . . but now more than half of his face was a magical reconstruction. The left side from above the eye down to the lower jaw was completely silver in color, for that was the natural shade of elfwood. Much of the nose was the same and there were even streaks of silver stretching across to the right side, almost like a pattern of roots seizing hold of what little good flesh remained of the king’s visage.

Magic had stolen most of his face and because of that, the damage had proved impossible to repair. Only elfwood, carved into a reproduction of his very features, could give King Melicard the illusion of normalcy. The wondrous wood, blessed, so legend said, by the spirit of a dying forest elf, was capable of mimicking the movements of true flesh. The more the wearer believed in it, the better it pretended. It could never replace what had been lost, but for Melicard the choice had been the mask or the monster beneath. For the sake of his own sanity and the princess he was to marry, Melicard had chosen the former.

He was clad in a black riding outfit that covered him from neck to foot, including his hands. Melicard generally wore outfits with long sleeves and always used gloves, but not for reasons of fashion. The ravaging forces that had taken much of his face had also taken from him his left arm. Had he removed his gloves, Cabe knew that the king’s hand would also be silver. The king could not so easily disguise his features, but he could at least hide his arm.

“Warlock! What are you-” His eyes, both real and not, focused on his beloved queen. “Erini!”

“She’ll be all right, Your Majesty,” Cabe quickly said. “Just help me carry her to the bed, if you please.”

Melicard was already moving. The two of them helped Erini walk to the bed; the novice sorceress was not actually unconscious, but seemed lost to the world around her.

When they had her lying down comfortably, Melicard hastened to the door and flung it open. Cabe, glancing up, saw two very nervous guards come to attention.

“Get Magda!” the disfigured monarch roared. “Get Galea! Get someone for the queen! She’s been hurt! Now!” He did not wait for them to respond, but rather turned immediately back to the bed, slamming the heavy door shut behind him as he did.

Cabe immediately stood up and faced him. He could not allow Melicard’s anger any leverage. He had to meet the king man-to-man and make him listen.

It was at that time that Darkhorse made the unfortunate decision to materialize. Melicard fell back from the newcomer, but Darkhorse did not notice him at first. “Does she fare better? How-” The pupilless eyes froze when they fell upon the furious king, who stood against one side as if the shadow steed filled the entire room. “Melicard . . .”

“I should have known you would be involved, demon! You may be virtually indestructible, but my queen is not! My Erini-”

“Is to blame for her troubles, my love.”

The three turned to the bed, where a still pale Erini was forcing herself up to a sitting position. She succeeded only as far as leaning on one elbow. Lines of strain marred her beauty.

“Erini!” Melicard, forgetting any pretense of dignity, ran to the side of the bed and hugged the queen.

“Gently, dear Melicard,” she gasped. “I’m not yet fully recovered.”

“Praise be!” Darkhorse bellowed. “You had us all fearful, dear Erini! You must take greater care in the future!”

“Greater care . . .” The king turned to face the warlock and the steed. “What did you make her do?”

“They . . . they did nothing, Melicard. I overextended myself. Cabe would have performed the spell, but I did not think he would find Darkhorse. I knew exactly where he would be if he was anywhere in . . . in that region.”

“Where were you?” He touched her skin. “You’re cold, Erini; I should have noticed that sooner . . . you’ve been to the Wastes, haven’t you?”

It was clear it was a strain for her to keep speaking, but the queen was not one to let others take the blame when she considered herself at fault. Cabe felt guilty that he allowed her to continue, but if anyone could make the ruler of Talak see reason, it was Erini.

“Listen to me, my love. I have to tell you everything the first time. I do not have the strength to repeat myself. Do you understand?”

Much of Melicard’s anger dwindled away as he realized what effect his fury was having on her. Still holding her, he sat down on the bed. “Very well; I’m listening, my queen.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. An older, plump woman, one of Erini’s two longtime companions from her former homeland, peered inside anxiously. “Your Majesties . . .”

Erini steadied herself. “Please wait without until I call for you, Galea. It will be but a moment.”

It was not to the woman’s liking, but she nodded and withdrew. The queen’s ladies were very protective of their charge, especially Galea and Magda.

“Now,” began the queen. “Let me tell you what happened, my beloved.”

She told him everything, glancing at the warlock for understanding. Cabe nodded; he agreed that there was no longer any reason to keep the purpose of his mission a secret. Melicard deserved the explanation even if, to the warlock, it might complicate something already too complicated. The king’s face was a mask in more ways than one now. Neither the real nor the elfwood side betrayed any emotion. Melicard was simply absorbing the facts. Afterward, when he had had a chance to consider what she had relayed to him, he might again become the living fury he had been a moment ago. The warlock hoped not, but there was no predicting Melicard. He would have to wait and see.

Erini was forced to pause several times in order to regain her strength, but at last she finished. More drained than before, the exhausted queen fell back onto the bed. Melicard rose to call her ladies in, but she reached up, put her hand on his, and said, “Not just yet, my lord. Let us finish here first. I’m only tired; nothing more. I promise you.”

“You’re certain, Erini?”

“I am.”

“I would never let anything happen to her, Your Majesty,” Cabe added. “My power stands ready to aid her if necessary. She’s overtaxed herself like she said. It can happen . . . I know that too well . . . when a fairly new mage succeeds too quickly with some spell. I apologize, however, for letting her go as far as she did. That was my mistake.”

“Erini has a stubbornness worthy of me!” commented Darkhorse. He was more his old self now. Cabe was thankful for that; if his old friend agreed to join him, he would need Darkhorse at his best. Distracted, he could become more of a danger, for Cabe would then himself be distracted from his course. “When she chooses to do something, she does it! One might as well ask the Tybers to move aside for them rather than convince the queen to change her mind on certain subjects!”

“I am . . .” the king began, “very much aware of my wife’s qualities. Foremost of those is a tendency to be open and straightforward with the truth. That and her beauty were what struck me that first day we met as adults.” He turned to face the two. His expression was calm, but his tone was just slightly cold. “I take what she says now as the true and complete story . . . as she knows it. You have my apologies, Master Bedlam, for my accusing you of being responsible for her condition.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Your Majesty. Under the circumstances, you reacted as anyone might have.”

“Indeed.” King Melicard rose. “And now that you’ve found what you were searching for, Master Bedlam, I am sure that you must be on your way. This news of Legar and the wolf raiders I will pass on to Iston. I will respect your mission. We will do nothing for now except watch. When you’ve discovered what you can, I would appreciate being told.”

They were being asked to leave and leave now. Melicard’s words teetered on the edge of bluntness, but at the same time he was sounding civil. It was all that could have been expected from him at a time like this. Cabe was more than ready to depart. As the king had almost said, he had found who he had been searching for. Thank the stars Darkhorse didn’t take him to task for that slight!

“I was glad . . . glad to be what help I could, Cabe,” whispered Erini from the bed. She managed to lean up a bit. “Good luck.”

“And where do we go from here, Cabe?” asked Darkhorse. There seemed no question in his mind that he would follow the sorcerer to the inhospitable peninsula. Darkhorse was very loyal to those he considered his friends.

“Thank you, Erini, and you, too, Darkhorse. First to the Manor, I suppose, to let Gwen know I’ve found you. Then, I think on to Zuu.”

“Zuu?”

Much to Cabe’s surprise, it was Melicard who answered the demon steed for him. “Zuu would be appropriate. There is no human city closer to the domain of the Crystal Dragon. They may have some word there that has not reached us yet.” He hesitated, then added, “Good luck, Master Bedlam.”

The warlock bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It may be that this will be simple and swift. The danger may be limited. There is something going on there, though, and for reasons I don’t understand, I seem to have been included.”

“Have no fear now, Cabe!” Darkhorse roared. “With me at your side, it is our foes who must worry!”

The demon steed’s brash confidence, while not enough to change Cabe’s own dour opinion on the matter, still succeeded in bringing a smile to his face. It was hard not to be at least a bit more hopeful when he was with Darkhorse.

“Give Gwen my love,” Erini added from the bed.

“I will.” He looked at his unearthly companion. “Are you ready?”

“I was ready long ago, Cabe! I look forward to this adventure with great anticipation!”

The warlock concentrated. “I’m glad someone is.”

Darkhorse was still laughing when they vanished.

At the southeastern edge of the land of Irillian, a longboat from the lone black ship slowly made its way toward shore. The black ship had waited until just the right time to come close enough to deposit its cargo. There were those who would have gladly sunk the vessel without so much as a question or a warning. Its mere presence, even in the distance, would have sealed its fate no matter who had been aboard.

There were three aboard the longboat, all of whom wore heavy cloaks designed not only to protect them from the spray and rain, but also, if need be, to protect their identities. Only one rowed; the other two sat and watched, wary.

They did not beach the longboat. Instead, when they were near enough, the two passengers climbed out into waist-deep water and waded their way toward shore. The third figure slowly began to turn the boat around so that he could return to the other vessel.

Both passengers moved swiftly through the sea. Their reactions were those of folk who little loved the water and suffered it now only because it was necessary. When they were at last on the beach, the duo shook themselves off, the wild wind and their cloaks making them look like the specters of dead seamen rising from the depths. They then turned and briefly watched their companion row back to the dark hunter. Satisfied that the ship would depart undetected, the two quietly conferred and then started inland, the taller one leading the way.

The journey ahead would be long and tiring, but they were undeterred by that thought. All that concerned them was the reason that had brought them to this shore in the first place. They were hunters, both of them, and they had come to the Dragonrealm because that was where their prey was. Whether it took ten days or ten years, they would complete their quest, for with them it had also become an obsession. Either they succeeded or they died. Living with failure did not occur to them; it was not their way. Either their prey was vanquished or they were killed in the attempt. Those were the only choices.

At the top of a rise overlooking the cloud-enshrouded, rolling landscape of southern Irillian, the lead figure stopped. He motioned to the other, then pointed to the far southwest in a direction that would take them on a route north of the distant city of Penacles. His companion nodded, but said nothing. They had discussed the route in advance. They knew their destination and how long it would likely take to reach it. All that mattered now was getting there without being discovered, a difficult task, but not an impossible one for two with their skills.

Confident and determined, they began both the climb down the other side of the rise . . . and the final leg of their journey to the Dagora Forest.