children. I think there may be another who will serve instead-that is, if his memories serve me right.”
He looked down at each of them and concentrated briefly. The walls groaned as if weakening, but he paid that only the least bit of attention, assuming the damage was due to his last assault. A new spell placed on each of them would assure that they would sleep a full day, maybe even two. More than enough time to deal with the other situations.
Taking one last-almost fond-glance at Cabe, Shade departed the Manor.
How could there be so many? Darkhorse wondered grimly. How did so many still survive?
The legions of the Silver Dragon were the stuff of epic. Not since the combined forces of Bronze and Iron had attempted to overthrow the emperor had there been a dragon host as great as this. Not all of them were of clan Silver, either. The two clans that had rebelled now had a new master. Remnants of both now rode, ran, or flew along with those of the Dragon King. There were even a few drakes of clan Gold, though they were the fewest of all. Darkhorse suspected that there had been other survivors, but not for very long. The would-be emperor had taken over their caverns, stolen their birthplace. Many drakes were too proud to stand for such things. Most of those that rode with him now were likely the dregs, perhaps even treacherous fools like Toma the renegade.
Though he could see them, Darkhorse knew that the night still gave him protection from the oncoming army. He had come here, rather than return immediately to Talak, because he had feared this very thing. His fears had proved far more than even he had supposed. The host here would have given a fully armed and ready Talak trouble-unless King Melicard had a trick or two up his sleeve. Perhaps that was one reason why he had agreed to summoning a demon; it was possible that he had suspected this invasion was coming.
Darkhorse laughed quietly. Even a demon would think twice about taking on a legion of fiends such as this!
A drake army was not an army in the traditional sense. The host included several castes and species from the lowest minor drake-huge reptiles almost as intelligent as horses and often used for the same purpose-to the elite of the ruling drake class, the humanoid warlords who drove their beastlike cousins and their lower-caste brethren before them. There were dragons in the air and on the ground. Some carried riders, others did not. Each one was as deadly as a score of more trained men; yet, they had been defeated in the past. There were weaknesses that men had learned to exploit, Talak most of all. That was why the Dragon King had worked to separate the forces of his human foe. He wanted an easy victory to prove his worth as emperor. Darkhorse knew he also wanted it because, of all his brethren, this drake lord was the most craven.
Yet, even this bully has the muscle to flex, the shadow steed thought with bitter humor. Alone, Darkhorse could harass the drakes and cause great damage, but he would eventually fall. Despite his cowardly ways, the Silver Dragon was quite possibly his equal or better in power; it was difficult to say. Surrounded by his own followers, each with their own measure of power, he would be nigh on invincible compared to Darkhorse.
Talak had to be alerted to the menace. If they had weapons to combat this host, so much the better. The Bedlams would lend their hand, also. This was not a battle to be won by a lone warrior, but only with the effort of many, himself included.
I shall see you before long, Dragon King. This I swear.
Summoning a portal, Darkhorse departed for Talak. He hoped and prayed that what he found there would be an improvement over this dismaying sight. He had his doubts, though.
M AY THE GODS who grant me my luck be cursed with the same ill sort!
As he stepped out into Talak, into the great hall near the front entrance of the royal palace, he sensed the wrongness of the place. Blood had been spilled here! Much of it and only recently!
Things were beginning to move too swiftly for him. A dragon host that would, by his estimate, be here just after dawn. A royal palace under attack-yet the city seemed its normal self! Was he mistaken about the bloodshed? Drayfitt could give him no answers, especially to the question that still plagued him from the back of his mind.
Where is Shade while the world turns mad? Is he orchestrating all of this?
He dared not linger on thoughts of Shade now. Like it or not, his first duty was to Talak and warning it of the threat moving toward its gate. Darkhorse concentrated his will on seeking the Princess Erini. As a sorceress-and an untrained one-she would unconsciously radiate a powerful presence. Training or pure luck would teach her to mask that presence. Death would completely eliminate the problem. For the moment, however, her ignorance was to Darkhorse’s advantage.
Find her he did, in a place buried beneath the palace much the same way his prison had been, though not as deep. She was the only distinctive presence. There were others, perhaps as many as a dozen, but something interfered with his senses, making them appear as less than individuals. He did not have to think long to realize that she was probably a prisoner. There were fear and hatred; they were so strong they nearly radiated auras all their own.
If the Princess Erini was in danger, he could not hesitate. Summoning up a portal, Darkhorse reared and, laughing mockingly, leaped through it.
“Well! If there is to be a party, then surely Darkhorse is welcome, yes?”
His sudden, overwhelming appearance, coupled with his brash, confusing speech, stunned the humans in the chamber-a prison cell, he saw. There were several people in the room, as he had thought, and among them were two others he had wanted to find. The first was Melicard, mighty Melicard, looking more like something left behind by a playful and only slightly peckish dragon. He stood-with the aid of one captor-against the wall nearest the door.
The second and somewhat more irate of the two-and only he would be irate in the face of a creature as devastating as Darkhorse-was Counselor Mal Quorin. He had a long, ugly blade in his hand and had apparently been toying with the princess. There were no marks on her, but the look on her face indicated that, had she been able to, the advisor would have been dead a hundred times over. That verified what Darkhorse had already suspected. Quorin was the source of whatever was dampening his senses and the princess’s abilities.
All this the ebony stallion took in during the first glance around him. He took a step forward now, his attention focused specifically on Quorin, who, with more courage than many, immediately moved closer to his prey. The knife touched the princess’s throat.
“She dies if you even flinch, demon! She dies if you so much as blink my direction!”
Unimpressed by their master’s defiant rhetoric, several of the guards deserted for safer climates. Only the ones in the cell, who probably knew they could not run away in time or were insane fanatics like the counselor, remained.
Darkhorse laughed in the face of Quorin’s threat. “You are a true servant of your master! As much a fool as he!” An ice-blue eye narrowed at the traitor. “Think on what sort of mercy you will receive from me if you do kill her!”
“I can draw her agony out, demon! I will!” The counselor’s eyes widened. Averting his gaze suddenly, he shouted to his men. “Don’t stare into his eyes! He’ll try to snare you like he did that bag-o’-bones charlatan!”
There was some nervous shifting. The man holding Melicard finally broke down and tore through the doorway, but not before shoving his charge to the floor. Melicard did not rise.
Cursing, Quorin stepped back a little, directing the others to do the same. Not once did his blade leave Erini’s throat. She, in turn, continued to watch him with an obsessive loathing that disturbed even Darkhorse.
“Your men abandon you, Master Quorin! Their deep faith is so touching to observe!” The advisor was a very dangerous adversary. Even with his plots crumbling, he refused to give in to his fears. As long as he held the knife and prevented both himself and his men from falling to Darkhorse’s gaze, there was little the eternal could do without causing harm to the princess. Anything he tried might still give Quorin enough time to cut her throat.
The key to this situation was whatever Quorin utilized to keep Erini’s abilities in check and the shadow steed’s senses a bit muted. It was likely a Seeker artifact-there were always too many of the blasted things around! — but Darkhorse knew of no way he could remove it from the chamber without Quorin reacting first.
It was Melicard who finally decided it. Melicard, ignored by all but Erini, considered helpless by even her. Beaten and minus one arm, he had lain as still as a corpse after being tossed to the floor. Quorin, of course, had had other, weightier matters on his mind. He did not, therefore, hear or see the king rise quietly from the floor, his one good eye fixed on the counselor’s back. The advisor’s remaining men, also more concerned about the foreboding steed pawing at the floor before them, paid him no mind, either. As for Erini, her view was obstructed by Quorin until the last moment. Even then, to her credit, she gave no sign, not even stiffening.
