Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

thoughts cool.” The huge figure loomed over the heir. “Then, Kyl, you and I will talk again. Much longer, this time.”

The heir had already slipped deeper into his chair. “I have no desire to do so.”

“You will.” Traske’s tone was such that Kyl could not help but straighten. It was the voice that had kept both drakes highly attentive throughout their lessons. It was a voice that brooked no disagreement, one that Grath knew his brother had not yet learned to control completely and probably never would.

Benjin Traske turned to leave, the issue of Kyl’s permission negligible under the circumstances, but then paused. He glanced first at Grath, then at Kyl, to whom he added, “You will be emperor. You will be strong. We will see to that.”

The dragon heir glanced up. His gaze did not leave the figure of the scholar until Traske had closed the door behind him. Then, Kyl simply turned to stare at one of the walls. Grath remained where he was, silent as the night. When Faras and Ssgayn returned, he indicated silence, then pointed where he wanted them positioned. They obeyed him without a sound.

Kyl continued to stare at the wall, but from where Grath stood, it was possible for the younger drake to see the look on his elder brother’s visage. Still brooding, but now Kyl was at least thinking. It was the first stage to recovery.

“Grath? What do you think of our esssteemed tutor?”

How to phrase it best? Grath hesitated, then responded, “He came here to see you made emperor, brother. He is not the kind to let years of work go for naught. When he says that you will be emperor, he means it.”

“Ssso I felt.” The dragon heir hissed. “I sssometimesss wish that Toma had sssucceeded our sssire after all. He would have brooked no threat from asssasssin or king, human or drake.”

“There isss much to admire in Toma,” Grath ventured. “He was loyal to our sire.”

“Ssso I was thinking.”

The young drake smiled at such a response, but only because his brother could not clearly see his face. Faras and Ssgayn could, but they were of no consequence; they knew their places.

“Perhaps, when you are emperor, you will be able to arrange to talk with him.”

The notion made Kyl blink. “I could do that, couldn’t I?”

“As emperor, who would stop you?”

“Who, indeed?”

Behind the emperor-to-be, Grath allowed himself another smile.

XVI

Cabe frowned as the night aged. The evidence he had hoped to find had failed to turn up, but still the warlock could not abandon his suspicions. He wanted to, very dearly in fact, but some part of him forced the mage to push on.

Twice already he had contacted his wife and the Gryphon. There had not been much to report from either side. Thanks to a private conversation between Benjin Traske and Kyl, the heir had at least calmed down. He remained secluded in his chambers, however. Gwendolyn reported some lingering signs of his earlier nervousness, but it appeared that Kyl had his fear under control. There was nothing else to report from the Manor. Aurim and Ssarekai were still afflicted by the mysterious spell Toma had cast upon them, but so far it had not affected anything but their memories concerning the renegade.

The news from Penacles was little better. Order had been restored and most in the kingdom seemed perfectly satisfied with the return of their former monarch, but the lionbird had been forced to admit that the spells of searching that he had cast upon the remnants of the two assassins had revealed nothing new. He had, however, promised the warlock that he would keep the garments under guard until Cabe or Gwen had the opportunity to study them thoroughly.

In a wooded area near the northern edge of the Dagora Forest, Cabe sat on a high rock contemplating the lack of success on everyone’s part. Even he had not had anything to report. It had been his decision to continue the search through the entire night if necessary, for, in his mind, each second he delayed meant more danger to Darkhorse. Fortunately, he could revitalize himself for a time through the simple use of sorcery. Cabe did not like substituting magical energy in the place of normal rest-it was a danger in the long run for many reasons-but he did it rarely enough that now would not cause him trouble. What did bother him was the possibility of finding his last clues as useless as the others. Then, the only choices left to him would be to confront the source of his suspicions, or forget the matter-and Darkhorse- forever.

He could never do the latter, but the former unnerved him almost as much.

Exhaling, the warlock floated off the rock and slowly descended to the ground, where he landed in a standing position. Cabe surveyed the area, seeing it well despite the darkness. For once, he had dared to adjust his eyes to better see at night. As much as Cabe disliked altering any portion of his form, especially something as sensitive as the eyes, the missing Darkhorse deserved at least that much effort. The warlock was willing to give his life, if that was what it took to save the ebony stallion.

I should’ve sensed something! What am I missing? What, indeed? Cabe had tried to follow Darkhorse’s trace, but so far it had led him nowhere. It was as if his last few days had been erased from-

Then it at last came to him. He cursed himself for a fool. I should’ve seen that before! And people think of me as a master sorcerer! I’m a novice, that’s what I am! A wet-behind- the-ears, all-knowing, first-day novice!

The traps set for Darkhorse had been designed in a variety of manners, but one consistent trait had been the creator’s use of one bit of sorcery masking another. What better way, then, to cover the trail of the shadow steed by use of the same, or rather, similar technique?

Tensing, the spellcaster reached out and looked at the world anew. There were different levels of vision, and while Cabe made use of both the mundane and magical, he did not usually utilize all of the latter. He could not remember a time when he had been forced to reach beyond the most common of the magical dimensions. Cabe had viewed the world from every level, but only for practice. He had never had to truly make use of them until now.

In the first shifting, the land around him became fluid, but everything still held its basic shape. Trees and rocks wiggled like overfilled water sacks, yet did not burst when he touched them. The night sky was blue. Lines of force, the same forces that Cabe’s body drew upon when he utilized sorcery, crisscrossed everywhere. Colors were askew, with green things now red and brown things now yellow.

Unfortunately, for this realm, everything was as it was meant to be. There were no variations that would have signaled the necessary aberration that Cabe was hunting.

He tried the next level beyond. Now, the night was green and everything, including himself, was pierced by a thousand tiny blue lines. The fact that all else was normal by human standards did nothing to keep him from becoming disconcerted by the strands. He was almost grateful to see that there was no evidence of the masking sorcery on this level.

His third attempt gave the warlock the ability to see the world as a land of glittering spheres. Each time something moved, be it by its own choice or simply the touch of the wind, the tiny spheres went flying hither and yonder. The landscape also glittered, making it appear that the trees, rocks, and all the rest had been formed out of volcanic glass. It was one of the most exotic and most beautiful of the magical planes, and Cabe made a note to himself to view it again when things calmed down.

There among the beauty he finally found the black trail. To his eyes, it appeared as a jagged scattering of black glass. In some places there lay only a single piece, but still there was enough to follow. Cabe reached out with his power, which in this level was represented by a gleaming blue stream, and linked himself to the trail.

It was childishly easy to follow it through a series of hops. Each time he materialized, the warlock expected to find some difficulty, some barrier, but there was none. Cabe began to fear some trap, but if there was one, it was so subtle that it escaped his careful monitoring.