“But your part of the bargain-”
“That?” The warlock smiled, a shadowy line slightly bent upward on each end. There was something dreadfully cold about his smiles, Silver thought.
“Neither Darkhorse nor the Bedlams will interfere. You may rest assured on that. They will be too busy with other, weightier matters.” That said, the warlock curled within himself and vanished.
Almost the Dragon King felt sympathy for the warlock’s adversaries-almost.
Another day had passed and Darkhorse once more studied the cracks of the chamber walls. Studied them while his mind sank deeper into a bottomless abyss.
Failure. Utter failure.
Darkhorse looked again at the chamber that was his world and would be his world for some time to come, apparently. His one hope had been crushed-and at the moment of greatest potential.
The human female called Erini, Melicard’s betrothed-now there was irony-was a natural spellcaster of high potential, possibly as high as Cabe Bedlam or the Lady Gwen. She had noticed the fragment of self although even Drayfitt had not. In the last moment of vision, he had seen how her hands itched to reach out to the powers, manipulate them. The female was stifling those powers, though; that much he had seen as well. If that were the case, he would receive little aid from her. Likely, she had not even told Melicard her secret.
His thoughts were interrupted by the unlocking of the door. That made him chuckle in sour humor; who would want to come in and what would they do once they were here? If it was not to keep someone out, what other reason was there for locking the door? Darkhorse would have been as secure if the entire palace had been leveled. Even then, the barrier enclosing him would have stood.
The door swung open and Melicard himself, accompanied by his foul shadow, Quorin, and the pitiful mage, Drayfitt, entered. There was something different about the king, a humanity that had blossomed almost overnight. It was not complete humanity, not by far, but a great touch more than the split-faced monarch had had during his first visit.
Given time, this princess would make him a whole man again. The shadow steed studied Melicard’s visage closer, especially the living eye and the set of his mouth.
Apparently, there will not be time after all.
The king was here with an ultimatum. Darkhorse could read that even before Melicard spoke.
“My army marches against the clans of Red in the Hell Plains at tomorrow’s dawn. Men will die so that their children will live free. The Plains will drink their blood as it drinks the blood of drakes.”
“A pretty speech… and very old.”
“You have been told not to be disrespectful to his majesty, demon! Perhaps you need another lesson-”
Melicard curtly signalled for silence. “Quiet! I want this creature, this legendary Darkhorse who fought alongside the Dragon Masters, Cabe Bedlam, and other humans throughout the centuries, to tell me why he will not save the lives of men by ending those of drakes!”
The ebony stallion sighed. “You who would make history, have you not studied it? Are not the lessons of the Quel, the Seekers, and those who preceded even them evident? This land we now call the Dragonrealm is a harsh mother. It has watched the glory of many races and it has watched the downfall of each-all through bloodshed. Even the Quel, who succeeded where others failed and held onto a bit of their power when the Seekers took control, even they did not learn from their mistake and eventually lost what little they had in trying to destroy the new avian masters! As for the Seekers, in putting down the last gasp of the Quel, they planted the seeds of their own destruction!”
Melicard was silent, but Darkhorse could see his words had had no effect. And I scoffed at his tired speech!
The king’s eventual response was what he had expected. “Though you are our prisoner, for some reason we cannot make you obey. Drayfitt has tried to explain, but that means nothing. Tomorrow, I will send the army out- without your magical aid. It will take them a week to ten days to reach the northern part of the Hell Plains, where the Red Dragon’s revitalized clans prepare for their own assault. We shall catch them unprepared, however; and, where Azran Bedlam failed, we shall wipe them out to the last egg. One less clan. The others will follow.”
“All hail the conquering heroes!” scoffed the shadow steed.
“Your majesty-” the counselor began to protest.
“You were overzealous before, Quorin. We will not punish this one, not this time. Perhaps he will reconsider before the deaths have grown too many.”
Darkhorse refused to look at the king any longer, instead choosing to alternate his piercing gaze between Drayfitt, the weakest link, and Mal Quorin, the treacherous one. The elderly spellcaster looked pale, worn, as if he had just suffered a great disaster. If so, the malevolent cat who counseled the king had something to do with it because there was now a slight hint of satisfaction on Quorin’s face that, under the circumstances, should not have been there. The counselor almost seemed pleased by events.
Something is not right where this tabby is concerned, Darkhorse decided. What can I do about it now, though?
“Come,” Melicard commanded his two advisors. “There are more fruitful endeavors to pursue at the moment.”
“The only fruitful endeavors will be those of the Lords of the Dead-after the battle.”
The door shut behind them with a sinister note of finality. Darkhorse kicked at his invisible cage, frustrated more than before.
“Fools!” he cried, though he doubted they could hear him, sound-absorbing as this room was. “This will be far worse than the Turning War!”
He brooded after that, unheedful of the hours that soon passed by and wondering again and again if they now intended on abandoning him down here indefinitely. Perhaps, as the years fall, some scavenger searching through the ruins of this once-proud city-state will find his way down here and pass on a word or two before leaving me alone again.
The door jostled. Someone was trying to open it-but with little success. Darkhorse gathered himself together, his interest in things revived by this sudden and possibly trivial incident. It may only be a guard testing the lock…
Nothing else happened for more than two minutes. The shadow steed’s hopes sagged again.
A sudden groan of twisting metal informed him that the first time had not been an illusion. The area of the door where the handle and lock were situated had been torn asunder, rendering the whole thing useless. Someone standing on the other side of the door pushed it forward.
The eyes of the Princess Erini stared at him in awe and growing recognition.
“You. You were the shadow in the hall. The one that-that followed me and then vanished.” While she talked, her hands continued to twitch, as if they were eager to perform yet more sorcery.
Darkhorse dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Princess Erini, I would assume.” He indicated the door. “A trifle overdone, I’d think.”
She looked embarrassed. “I was only trying to open it. Drayfitt said that if you concentrate, you can manipulate the spectrum and unlock it with little more than a look.”
“Can you try that with my accursed cage here? Have you come to set me free?”
“Are you-are you Darkhorse?”
That made him laugh loudly. “Of course. Who else could I be? Who else would dare to be Darkhorse-or want to be, for that matter?”
“Not so loud, please!”
His manner became subdued. The shadow steed knew that this human held his freedom in her anxious hands. “Why did you come down here? Won’t Melicard become wroth when he discovers his future bride has uncovered one of his secrets?”
“Melicard is busy. Quorin”-the look of disgust on her young face was evidence enough of her hatred for the man. The shadow steed’s opinion of the princess rose further-“has convinced him that the time to move is now. Melicard is completing final preparations.”
“He was here earlier. This is madness, you know.” The ebony stallion shifted impatiently in the confined space of his prison. Free me! he wanted to shout at the human.
