well.”
“You! He is your enemy, too! If he defeats me, you will be next!”
“Possibly. Possibly not. I could just depart-but I suppose he would find me eventually.”
Darkhorse moved cautiously. He was confident that the Dragon King would give him little trouble, being the most pathetic of his brethren that the horse could recall. This is a drake lord? This one would be Emperor? What worried him, however, was this new Shade, this indifferent, even possibly amoral creature who stood talking calmly while two powerful beings prepared to fight to the death-a fight that might very well include the warlock before long.
Desperation was written in every movement of the Silver Dragon. Darkhorse began to understand. This drake lord had lived under the favor of the Gold Dragon and had apparently drawn much of his strength from his emperor-who had been more than a little paranoid about his own position. That paranoia had evidently transferred itself to this Dragon King, who saw himself as the obvious successor to his former master.
The drake hissed and suddenly threw the crystal at Darkhorse.
“That was definitely foolish,” Shade commented.
Knowing the artifact for what it was, the stallion stepped nimbly aside. A magical talisman could be deadlier when used in desperation than in planned combat. The Vraad device went flying past him, striking the cavern wall behind. It bounced two or three times on the floor and then rolled to a stop-all without the slightest sign of danger.
Shade leaned over, clearly interested at the lack of reaction on the talisman’s part.
The crystal split into two perfect pieces and a gray-green smoky substance began to rise from it, forming into a cloud that swelled with each passing second. The warlock straightened quickly with as much emotion as Darkhorse had seen him convey since his arrival here.
“I warned you that it was foolish. I think I may leave after all.”
Darkhorse snorted and trotted a step closer to the cloaked figure. “None of us is leaving here, dear friend Shade, until-”
The shadowy warlock curled within himself and vanished with a slight pop! before the next word was even out of the eternal’s mouth.
“No!” The Dragon King reached toward the spot where the spellcaster had stood, uselessly grasping at air.
“You!” Darkhorse turned on the drake. “Where has he gone, carrion eater? Where?” Notagainnotagainnotagain! the shadow steed mentally cursed.
Sizing up the chamber and knowing his chances against the creature before him, the Silver Dragon came to a rapid decision. He transformed.
The transformation was quick, almost unbelievably so. Wings burst from the drake’s back and the creature hunched forward as his spine arced and his legs bent backwards. Taloned hands grew long and arms twisted, becoming more like the legs. The Dragon King’s neck stretched high, an ungodly sight at first, what with the humanoid head, but then the dragon-crest slid down over the half-hidden face, slid down and lengthened. The jaws snapped and the eyes opened, the true visage of the Silver Dragon revealed at last. All the while, the form of the leviathan expanded, growing and growing until it threatened to fill the cavern and more.
All this in but a breath. Time enough for Darkhorse to have attacked-save that his limbs were suddenly heavy and the chamber was beginning to fade. He blinked, wondering if the ominous smoke cloud had affected his senses. His second thought was that Shade had made a fool of him, had returned somehow without Darkhorse sensing him and struck with some new spell. He struggled forward. The dragon, now whole, did nothing but stare. Stare and slowly smile that toothy smile that only his kind was capable of.
“The nag hasss been sssnared himssself!” the Dragon King hissed jubilantly. He inhaled sharply and, as Darkhorse looked on in helpless frustration, bathed the shadow steed in white flame summoned up from his own magical essence. Darkhorse steadied himself, knowing that here was a fire whose burning touch even he might feel.
The flame passed through the trapped stallion without so much as a hint of its unbearable heat. The Silver Dragon roared angrily. Darkhorse laughed, covering his own surprise with bravado. What was happening?
You will come to me, demon! a familiar voice demanded. Now!
“Damn the Final Path, no!” Darkhorse renewed his struggles, fighting with such ferocity that that Dragon King backed away again. “No!”
The choice is not yours, demon! You will come!
He was wrenched from the cavern and the dragon with the ease that one might reach down and pick up a twig. The world-everything-twisted and faded. Darkhorse struggled, but he might as well have been trying to physically run the boundaries of the Void so futile was his attempt. He had underestimated an adversary again. His self-exile, he grimly decided, had warped his senses beyond help.
The world of the Dragonrealm returned then-and with it a place that he had thought he would never have to see again.
In the dim light of the torch, Drayfitt rose before him, exhausted but satisfied. The look in his eyes was unreadable, even to Darkhorse.
“He will not escape this time. We can stare in those dead eyes until the Dragon of the Depths comes to visit the king for lunch before the demon will be able to trick one of us again. His other abilities are stifled as well.”
The markings around his magical cage had been altered slightly. Darkhorse tried to make them out but could not.
Mal Quorin joined his rival and eyed the shadow steed with a mix of fury and glee. “You’ve cost us much, demon! That book cannot be replaced! Rest assured, though, before long, you will have repaid us for it over and over again!”
“Mortal fools! I am not your fetching slave! Release me! Shade still wanders free and the danger may be greater than I supposed!”
The Silver Dragon was a bully, strong but with little true bravery to back it up. Yet, if he was allowed to study the Vraad for very long, he might become an even deadlier threat. Kivan Grath might again be home to an emperor, if it did not become the citadel of Shade first…
… and Darkhorse, trapped again through his own lack of forethought, would be unable to do anything about either peril.
VII
ERINI WOKE THE next day feeling as if the dreams of her childhood had become reality. Yesterday had turned the fears of the future back into hopes. Yesterday, she had met Melicard the man.
In the light of day, the magical aspects of his unique features had taken on a new quality. Erini had thought him handsome in spite of the coldness of his elfwood side; now, she saw that the elfwood could enhance as well. There was a beauty to the wood when it became one with the king’s pale skin. The rare wood had always been beautiful by itself, but, as Melicard had seemed to draw from it, so, too, had it drawn from him. The two sides of his face had become one despite their differences.
Even the stiff, artificial arm had felt smoother, more supple than earlier.
Galea and Magda came and helped her this morning; a good thing, too, since she found she could not concentrate. Her thoughts continued to be of yesterday’s journey out onto the palace grounds and the tower to which he had led her. It was part of the wall and there were three others identical to it spread equal distances apart. This was the best one, Melicard had informed her quietly, to view the city as a whole.
His manners were rusty, as would be reasonable after so many years with so little practice. Still, the more they walked together-without the ever-present shadow of Mal Quorin-the more a new man had emerged; a new man, or one who had been locked away for over a decade. More and more, Erini was discovering that the dark, moody ruler of Talak was a creation of Melicard’s own fears and, though she dared not suggest it openly, the influence of men like the counselor. This was not to say that the drakes were innocent, not by far, but the princess knew that some, at least, were trying to make peace with humanity. The others… she could not entirely fault
