Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

the renegade had Valea in order to confound him, and Ursa had probably been taken because of her bloodline. Grath? He was the one that the warlock worried about most. Kyl was no doubt allied with Toma, but did the heir need his brother? Did he really care that much for Grath?

Maybe it would’ve been better if your assassins had managed to kill him, Lord Green! If Kyl was Toma’s ally, then he would pay along with the renegade duke, emperor or not.

Although only a few minutes had elapsed since the beginning of his battle with his ensorcelled wife, Cabe knew that he had delayed too long already. Leaning over quickly, he kissed the worn enchantress and patted his son on the shoulder. “I have to go. I have to get Valea.”

“You’ll need help,” insisted Gwen, trying to rise again.

Cabe briefly looked away, his gaze drifting to empty air. After a moment, he turned back to his family. “I’ll get it. Don’t worry. Toma has to be stopped.”

“Good-” the witch began, but Cabe was already gone.

He had no doubt where they would be. Cabe Bedlam had been able to sense the renegade and the others all the time he had been in his son’s chambers. Toma, Valea, Kyl, Grath, and at least three others occupied the chambers set aside for the heir, his brother, and their bodyguards.

The odds were very much against him; the warlock was aware of that. Yet Cabe was concerned only about Toma. The others would be more hindrance to themselves. Kyl was possibly a threat, if Cabe was correct in his assumption. Toma, however, would have his hands full keeping Valea, Ursa, and likely Grath under control. The drake duke would insist on doing so himself. Toma trusted no one enough, not even his supposed emperor.

He materialized just a few feet from the royal chambers. The spell that prevented magical intrusion was still in place, another reason why Toma would have chosen these rooms rather than his own. The drake had dared not place such a spell on his own suite, for someone would have noticed and questioned why a tutor needed such safeguards.

How best to do this? Toma was making Cabe come to him. Despite Cabe’s intentions otherwise, the warlock was once more being played with by the renegade. Duke Toma had always excelled at manipulating others, but his game of the past several years had been his crowning achievement. Even now, he simply had to wait for his adversary to come to him.

Well, I am coming to you, you damned lizard and, believe me, you will regret that!

Cabe sent a probe toward the doorway, the obvious entrance into a place protected by sorcery, but he also sent out two more subtle probes to seek out the windows on the other side of Kyl’s bedchamber. He doubted that either the door or the windows would do him any good, but it was always a wise idea to investigate.

The probes finally informed him of what he had already assumed. None of the obvious entrances were available to him. There were spells crisscrossing them, spells whose intentions were to assure his immediate death. He could not fight both Toma and the traps the renegade had laid, not at the same time. That was far too much for even Cabe, with all his power, to concentrate on.

It became clear to Cabe that he could either stay here and hope that Toma would tire of waiting-or try to fight his way through the drake’s traps. Neither was a particularly attractive choice. He could not take long in deciding, either, for Valea’s life lay in the balance. Kyl did not likely want her killed, but Toma might. Whatever master plan the renegade had hatched all those years ago, when he had first donned the mask of Benjin Traske, had been shattered, likely by Aurim’s appearance in the library. Traske had seemed visibly startled. With Gwen having failed him, Toma now had to revise his moves.

Which did not mean that the drake had not already planned for this somehow.

He could not wait out Toma. Cabe had to assault the magically defended suite. He had to do it alone, too, for neither his wife nor Aurim were-

There was a sudden tingling in his mind. The tingling was followed by the intrusion of a familiar, albeit ever unique presence. I am here, Cabe! Let me in!

Darkhorse! Enter freely! Come to the hall beyond Kyl’s suite! Quickly!

“What is it?” rumbled the eternal, suddenly beside him.

With the tension so great already, Cabe fairly jumped at the abrupt appearance of his old friend. He quickly scanned the shadow steed. Darkhorse did not look as powerful as he generally did. His presence was just a bit less imposing, as if not all of him was there. “Are you well enough? Can you help me?”

The eternal looked insulted. “Can I help you? I am Darkhorse, Cabe! I am your friend! To not help you, to do less than I am able . . .”

“Toma’s in there.”

That silenced the ebony stallion. The icy orbs that were his eyes narrowed. “Is he now?” Darkhorse started toward the door. “Then I think that we should join him . . . so that we may tear him apart!”

“Wait!” Cabe leapt in front of the eternal. “Listen! Toma is Benjin Traske. He used that identity to draw us to him. I think he has Valea and Grath in there, and I know that the doors, the windows . . . everything . . . are bespelled!”

“Bespelled against you, Cabe!” snorted the shadow steed. “I am Darkhorse! Move aside! I owe the renegade for much and I will see him pay now!”

Somehow, the hulking form of Darkhorse slipped around him. Cabe cursed, reminding himself for the thousandth time that what the eternal resembled was not what he was. It was too late by that time. Darkhorse was already at the doorway.

The massive black stallion rose on his hind legs and struck out with his hooves. The warlock felt a rush of sorcerous energy encompass the eternal. Cabe shielded himself, but nothing struck him. He heard Darkhorse laugh and knew then that his companion had absorbed the sorcery and was now mocking the one who had cast the spell.

“I am coming for you, bloody duke!” Darkhorse kicked the door again. It still stood, a testament to Toma’s own skills, but Cabe estimated that one, perhaps two more kicks would shatter it. He readied himself to enter the fray the moment the way was clear.

It took only one more kick. The door splintered, bits flying this way and that. Again, spells were unleashed. The wary sorcerer was amazed at the preparation his adversary had made. Once more, however, all the preparation went for naught, for Darkhorse absorbed all the power with only a slight glow to show that he had noticed the attacks at all.

The eternal did not wait. He charged into the suite. Cabe prayed that the Manor would be able to withstand all the damage. It would not do to have the ancient edifice come down around them just as they were about to capture Toma.

“What in the name of the Void?” roared Darkhorse in absolute confusion.

Cabe, just entering, paused. He stared at what had so confounded the stallion, his heart sinking as he realized the latest ploy the duke had played on him.

Huddled together like frozen statues were Lady Belima and six of the household staff. They stared without seeing, but Cabe could at least tell that they were breathing.

“Look what hangs on their chests,” Darkhorse muttered.

Stepping forward, a demoralized Cabe saw that each person wore a simple loop necklace from which hung an object. Mistress Belima, a graying, busy-looking woman, wore a small dagger. Another woman wore a ribbon that resembled one worn often by Valea. The warlock studied the other items, finally muttering, “Those are personal items. Something from Valea, something from Kyl . . . something from everyone in Toma’s little group, including himself.”

“We have been tricked!”

He nodded. Darkhorse had the right of it. Toma had played the warlock as a master bard played his harp. Kyl, Grath, Ursa, Valea-they were all gone. Frustrated, the warlock stalked through the suite. He knew that the renegade had departed, but desperation made him hope that perhaps he was wrong. This had to end here and now, not drag on and on and on . . .

In one of the side rooms, the warlock made a grisly discovery. Whereas Mistress Belima and the others