Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

VIII

Darkhorse felt Yureel invade his essence. The fear that had existed for a thousand mortal lives swelled. He had thought himself rid of such horrors when he and the others had trapped his twin, and Yureel, rather than be cast out forever into the Void, had destroyed himself. Darkhorse had never told his friends how much of a relief that had truly been for him.

Now it appeared he would yet be devoured . . .

But how could this be? As Darkhorse had proclaimed, Yureel had no soul, not in the sense that it was utilized by mortals. The pair were creatures of pure energy, pure magic. They no more had souls than did rocks.

The Lords of the Dead had, therefore, not taken the same thing from Yureel that they had from others. The only way by which Yureel could be here was if the necromancers had recovered some fragment of his essence that had not been destroyed . . .

And that knowledge fueled Darkhorse’s resolve. Whole, Yureel might have been too much for him. but if much of what battled the stallion was a construct of the Lords, then the opposite was true.

He steeled himself and fought Yureel’s invasion to a standstill. As the two struggled, Darkhorse secretly probed, seeking the key to the truth.

There! In the midst of the blob that was his foe, he found the only true bit of Yureel. It pulsated like a sinister black heart, malevolence radiating from it.

“Aaargh!” Even as he located the true Yureel, it attacked, literally devouring part of him. The loss was minuscule, but served as a vicious reminder of what could happen.

A brilliant sunburst surrounded Darkhorse as he defended himself. It burned away the false bits of his twin, forcing what was left to quickly withdraw into itself. Darkhorse, however, did not relent. He next burned away the haze surrounding them, shedding light for perhaps the first time on this one part of the necromancers’ dire realm.

Yureel suddenly exploded.

Caught by surprise, Darkhorse lost control of his spell. As it faded, he was inundated by a downpour of what had once been his adversary. Black splotches struck him everywhere, burning him even when the eternal sought to make himself incorporeal.

But at last, Darkhorse shook off the last desperate attack. The blotches moved swiftly around the landscape, gradually gathering together. Restoring himself to his full stallion form, Darkhorse leapt from spot to spot, stomping on each blotch and eradicating it. The bits of Yureel began scurrying here and there in an attempt to confuse him, but the shadow steed hunted them down wherever he saw them.

Then he sensed what appeared to be the remaining part of his twin. The inky form, blacker yet than all the others, sought to seep into the cold earth, but Darkhorse’s hoof crashed down before it, cutting off escape. With almost pitiful movements, Yureel attempted to race under his foe.

With a harsh laugh, Darkhorse created another limb right above where he knew the splotch would go.

The hoof came down, stamping out the last of Yureel. Blue lightning briefly crackled as the last bit burned away.

Darkhorse looked around quickly. He neither saw nor detected any other traces. Still, if anything had managed to slip by, it surely amounted to nothing. Unless the Lords of the Dead deigned to be generous and give Yureel a second opportunity-which was highly doubtful considering the latter’s abysmal failure-then any bit of Darkhorse’s twin still remaining was doomed to forever be only a glimmer crawling uselessly over the empty land.

Satisfied, the shadow steed considered his next move. Whatever else happened, Cabe would head toward the castle in order to find Valea. That was what Darkhorse expected of him. The children of his friend were almost as dear to the eternal as they were to Cabe and Gwen. Darkhorse would have willingly sacrificed himself for any of the humans’ sakes.

So the castle was his next destination . . . yet, where was it?

Probing the haze, he discovered not the lair of the necromancers, but rather a more welcome thing. A very familiar, comfortable presence.

Cabe?

Darkhorse? returned the wizard. Where?

The stallion strengthened the link between them. I know where you are, he told Cabe. Wait and I shall be with you . . .

Picturing the human in his mind, Darkhorse concentrated.

The next moment, he stood right before the wizard.

“Praise be that you’re all right!” Cabe said, smiling in relief.

“Their trap was clever, but not clever enough!”

“You, too? Darkhorse, Azran’s ghost confronted me.”

“Indeed?” The shadow steed recalled all too well Azran Bedlam and shivered. “And I was faced by a Yureel still intent upon devouring me.”

The wizard frowned. “Yureel? But how could he be here?”

“The Lords no doubt salvaged some small bit of him after our last struggle. I sent that final piece of refuse to oblivion.”

Cabe could scarce believe it. “Azran and Yureel . . .”

“Yes, we were both quite fortunate!”

“A bit too fortunate,” muttered the human, not explaining. “It doesn’t matter. You and I are together and the castle’s just ahead.”

Gazing up, Darkhorse saw the grim sanctum. “Indeed! We shouldn’t let our hosts await us any longer, then, friend Cabe!”

“No, we shouldn’t.” The wizard mounted. His tone matched well their surroundings. “And if I find they’ve harmed her in any way, not a thousand Azrans and Yureels combined will keep me from making them pay.”

The eternal snorted ferociously, echoing his companion’s sentiments, then the two started off toward the castle . . .

Ephraim materialized in the midst of the pattern, taking his rightful place. The five who had not gone with Zorane and the others looked to him for their next move.

“The Bedlam and the eternal?”

“The wizard readily sealed his father in a box much like our old ‘catchers.’ The eternal proved that his twin was now but a shadow of him,” reported one sorcerer, his jaw bone completely missing and his ribs showing through his rusted armor.

“They failed miserably,” mocked another in similar condition.

Ephraim nodded. “Then everything goes as I predicted.” To the others-and even himself-his lips curled back in a triumphant smile. The sight would have been no less macabre than the eternal, fleshless grin he actually wore. “Now it is time for the female.”