Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

shape already vied with human women twice her age and her face was that of a siren, fulllipped and inviting. Only her childlike manner prevented her from already being a seductress. “Kyl keeps saying I’m so slow I should be with the minors!” She sniffed. “I don’t, do I?”

Cabe grimaced. Minor drakes were beasts, pure and simple, and what he had mistaken the drake girl for a moment before. They were little more than giant lizards with wings and were generally used by their brethren as riding animals. In what was possibly the most peculiar aspect of the drake race, both minor drakes and the intelligent ones could be born in the same hatching. Even the drakes could not say why. To call Ursa a minor drake was the worst of all insults among her kind. He would have to speak to Kyl, something that was never easy.

The two girls were laughing now, Valea having evidently said something that Cabe had missed. The duo ran off. Cabe marveled at how easy it was for his daughter to accept a playmate who shifted from human to monster form, especially as the latter was the girl’s birth form. He still felt uneasy around most of the drakes and was not reconciled by the fact that they, in turn, had a very healthy respect for his sorcerous abilities.

Darkhorse would laugh if he knew . . . He wondered where the elemental was. Still chasing the ghost of the warlock Shade? He hoped not. Shade was dead; the shadowy steed had seen it himself. Yet, Darkhorse had searched the Dragonrealm time and time again, never trusting what his own eyes had shown him. There was, admittedly, some justification. It had been Shade’s curse to be reborn after each death, ever shifting from darkness to light to darkness again depending on which side his previous incarnation had followed. The last death had sounded final . . .

Cabe dropped the thought before he, too, began to see ghosts. There were other matters of importance. The news that King Melicard of Talak had passed on to them was disturbing, more so because one did not know what to believe and what not to believe. Oddly enough, it was not the more substantial rumors of a possible confederation made up of the survivors of decimated drake clans or the rise of a new generation of human warlocks that remained lodged in his mind, but rather the least likely one.

Someone had claimed to have sighted three great black ships on the northwestern seas of the Dragonrealm. Ships that had been sailing south.

It seemed unlikely, though, since the source of the rumor was said to be hill dwarfs, well known for creating tall tales. The Aramites hardly had the time and resources to start a new venture of the magnitude that the rumors indicated. Three such vessels meant hundreds of sorely needed soldiers taken from the defense of the wolf raiders’ crumbling empire.

Yet . . . no news of the great revolt overseas had reached the Dragonrealm in about a year. At last word, one of the mightiest seaports left to the raiders had been ripe for falling. The forces of the Gryphon had been only days away.

He hoped the tide had not turned somehow.

“What are you thinking too much about now?”

The warlock turned to his wife, who had just entered the room. Gwendolyn Bedlam was a tall woman with fiery red hair that cascaded downward, falling nearly to her waist. A single wide stripe of silver ran back across her hair, marking her, as it did Queen Erini of Talak and Cabe, as a magic user. She had emerald eyes that sparkled when she was pleased and full lips that were presently curled into a smile. The forest green robe she wore was more free-flowing than his dark blue one, yet somehow it clung to her form, perfectly outlining her voluptuous body. He met her halfway across the room and took her in his arms. Their kiss was as long and as lingering as the first time they had ever kissed. Cabe, with his slightly crooked nose and roundish face, had often wondered how someone of such ordinary features and mild build as himself had ever been so fortunate as to win her hand.

When he was at last able to separate himself from her, Cabe replied, “I was thinking of many things, but mostly about what we learned in Talak.”

“The black ships?”

He nodded. “Maybe I’m just worried about the Gryphon. He did so much for me when I was confused and afraid all those years ago. He gave us refuge. Now, not a word in so much time . . . and then this sudden rumor.”

“The trip across takes a long time, Cabe.” Gwen took his arm and started to lead him out of the room. “Perhaps the last ship was delayed.”

He nodded, but the nagging feeling would not disappear. “Maybe, but I can’t help feeling that something has happened.”

“Troia and Demion would not let anything happen to him. Demion sounds very protective of his father.” Although they had never met the Gryphon’s mate or his son, they knew them almost as well as if they had visited them every day.

“I suppose . . .”

His father was a bear of a man, taller than he was and with so commanding a presence that he always felt compelled to kneel before him. Both of them were clad in the same green dragonscale armor, but whereas he merely felt hot and uncomfortable, his father truly was the warrior incarnate, a true standard by which the rest of the clan measured itself.

The bearded figure looked down at him. “I expect complete loyalty from all of my sons! You won’t fail me like your brothers, will you?”

And it seemed that more than one voice answered, for it seemed there were others beside him, all kneeling before the man they called father. . . .

“Cabe?”

“Father?” He blinked. “Gwen?”

She turned him so that they faced each other. There was deep concern in her eyes, concern bordering on fear for him. She stroked his cheek. “Are you all right? You froze there for a moment and your eyes turned upward. I thought you were about to pass out!”

“I . . .” What had happened? “I had . . . a flash of something.”

The enchantress pushed aside several locks of crimson hair that had fallen over her face in the excitement. Her expression clouded. “You muttered ‘father.’ Was it . . . was it Azran?”

The name still sent chills running through him. “Azran’s dead and I’d never call him father, anyway. He was only responsible for my birth. Hadeen, the halfelf my grandfather got to raise me . . . he was my father if anyone was. Besides, this was someone else’s father . . . though I felt as if he and I were the same for that moment.”

“What did you see?”

He described the scene to her, discovering then how murky everything had been. It was as if the vision were very old. Cabe mentioned as much to Gwen.

“A ghost of the far past . . .” she suggested, glancing around at their surroundings. “The Manor is very, very old. It could be you walked into one of its memories.” In the time since they had made the Manor their home, they had discovered that it was haunted. Not by true ghosts and undead, but rather by living memories of the many who had either lived here or stayed for a time. Most of the visions were quick, foggy things. A glimpse of a tall, severelooking woman in a gown of gold. A creature like a wolf, but more upright, possibly of a race now dead.

A few images were more distinct. Short-lived events like the one that Gwen had seen in the first days. It had been a wedding, but the image had lasted only long enough for her to hear the two participants give their agreement. There were other visions, darker ones, but they were rare and only those very gifted in sorcery even noticed the most ordinary memories. The Bedlams had learned to live with them, for there was nothing in those memories that could hurt anyone.

“This was stronger than usual,” Cabe muttered. “But it did follow the pattern of the others. I’d just never seen this one before.”

“There’s probably a lot we haven’t seen. When I was here the first time, in Nathan’s time, I experienced a few that I have yet to see again.” Her grip on him tightened. “Are you still suffering from it?”

He shook his head. Even the last vestiges of it were no more than memories of a memory in his head. “I’m fine.”

She nodded, but he could see that she was still not satisfied. Cabe knew that she was thinking of another possibility.