Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

A child of the Void. That was how legends had often described the eternal. He was not like any creature in the world, simply because he was not from this or any other world.

The power of Toma’s pet was useless against the black stallion. Perhaps there was no inherent heat within Darkhorse upon which the monster could work its horrible spell.

Even Toma briefly forgot about his part in the battle as he and Cabe stared at the stunning tableau.

“Well?” mocked Darkhorse. “Was that supposed to mean something?”

Outraged, the monstrosity howled and charged the eternal.

“No!” Toma snarled. “Ssstop!”

His words went unheeded. The creature leapt as it came within range of its motionless prey. Not once did it hesitate to perhaps wonder why the massive horse did not try to flee or fight. It was too furious, too filled with a bloodlust. A victim had survived its power; that could not be allowed.

Jaws opened and talons flashed as the beast fell upon Darkhorse . . . and continued to fall into his would-be prey. There were those who would have described the eternal as a living hole, a dark abyss with no bottom. Darkhorse was that and so much more. He was and was not the very emptiness in which he had been spawned.

The howl of anger became a cry of fear. Darkhorse’s form grew distorted from effort; as Cabe had suspected, his companion had not yet completely recovered from his captivity. The stallion persevered, however. It was a strange sight-it was always a strange sight-to behold. Despite the fact that the beast had stood far, far taller than Darkhorse, the monster’s entire form was dragged into the body of the shadow steed. Smaller and smaller the shadow steed’s adversary became, until at last it vanished within. The howling ceased but a moment after.

Despite all the times he had seen Darkhorse do this to his enemies, Cabe could not help but feel unsettled.

There was something different about this particular instance, however, for Darkhorse made no immediate move to take on Toma. He did not move at all, but rather stood where he was. His body literally rippled, but it did not collapse as it had done once in the past.

With effort, the shadow steed finally turned to face the renegade. The dragon eyed him warily.

“You . . . have attacked my . . . friends . . . monster! You made me a prisoner . . . and tortured me. For that . . . I will make you pay.”

It was clear that the comments concerning Darkhorse’s imprisonment only puzzled Toma, but the stallion paid that no regard. He started toward the renegade at a somewhat irregular pace.

This Toma noticed and a calculating look crossed his draconian features. “Come to me then, old nag, and show me what you can do!”

His form still shifting, the shadow steed prepared to attack.

Cabe gestured. A wall of energy appeared between Darkhorse and Toma. The shadow steed turned in confusion. “Cabe! What do you do?”

The warlock took a deep breath. His fear and rage had not been quelled, and now that he had committed himself to his present course, the two emotions began to burn with renewed force. “Take care of Kyl, Darkhorse. Forget Toma. He belongs to me.”

“What care have I for that traitorous young-”

Cabe cut him off. “Kyl helped us, Darkhorse. Grath was the traitor. Now do as I say and take Kyl from here. He needs the aid of a healer badly. If you don’t hurry, I’m afraid he might die.”

“But-”

“Take care of Valea and Ursa, too . . . please.” He had been about to say especially if I fail, but Cabe did not even want to acknowledge that likely possibility. “Now.”

Toma absorbed the exchange with something approaching amusement. “Have I given permission for thisss, human? Do you think that I will jussst let him depart with the heir?”

The warlock was grim-faced. “Yes.”

“You are mistaken, then.”

The dragon raised a paw toward Darkhorse, who, obeying Cabe, had backed toward Kyl. Dust began to rise around the shadow steed, dust that somehow clung to the eternal’s form.

“Let him be.”

The force of Cabe’s blast threw the great dragon against the steps of the dais. Toma thundered in new pain, his spell dissipating as he lost control. Smoke rose from his form. There was now a gaping hole in the already injured wing.

Darkhorse paused. “Cabe, if you and-”

“Do what I said, Darkhorse.” The mage dared not reveal just how weakened he already was. Each new assault drained him, but he could not relent. Toma was his. Toma had made himself Cabe’s. He would take the dragon whatever the cost. Whether that was the right thing or the wrong thing to do, the warlock did not care. Toma was his.

“You insolent mortal!” raged the wounded leviathan. “Who do you think you are?”

The exhausted sorcerer pulled himself up to his full height and quietly responded, “I am Cabe Bedlam.”

His next assault forced Toma partway up the dais. The renegade drake roared. Once again Cabe was awash in a storm of flame, but this time the heat and pain were barely noticeable. He pushed his way through the inferno until Toma could maintain it no longer.

The dragon was breathing heavily when the warlock again looked him in the face. For the first time, there was uncertainty in Toma’s eyes.

Cabe took the opportunity to look Darkhorse’s way. He was relieved to see that the stallion had obeyed him, for both Darkhorse and Kyl were no longer there. One weight lifted from his heart. Whatever happened here, the others were safe. Kyl and the others would spread the truth about Toma if Cabe failed.

“We’re all alone now,” he informed the renegade.

“A pity. Then no one will be able to die with you.”

“You’ll do.”

The huge head suddenly dropped toward Cabe. The warlock belatedly noted that he had never estimated the length of Toma’s neck. The world above Cabe became the wide maw of a slavering dragon.

Toma’s jaws snapped shut on the place where his rival had been, but the sorcerer had been able to dive aside at the last moment despite the dragon’s swiftness. The dragon tried once, twice, three times more. Cabe rolled over, bouncing again and again against the rock floor. He was bruised from head to toe, but at least he was alive to fight.

The knowledge did not much encourage him.

“Ceassse hopping and bouncing, flea! You only prolong what mussst be!”

“You . . . have a . . . point there,” Cabe gasped. It was now or never. If he allowed this battle to go on, Toma would defeat him through sheer stamina. The warlock could hardly keep up his present pace much longer.

Again, the human struck, choosing force over subtlety. Toma recast his shield, but while it held, the dragon was still driven to the top of the dais. Toma tried to exhale another river of flame, but only a gust of heat greeted his efforts.

Cabe pushed on, knowing that he had to be relentless. A second bolt and then a third pushed Toma nearly to the throne. The mage ascended the steps, pausing only two or three from the top.

Toma straightened, unsteady but hardly defeated.

“What does it take to put you down, warlock?”

Cabe wanted to ask him the same question, but chose to save the energy for the combat. He attacked again, and this time the dragon’s shield failed him.

Toma nearly fell upon the throne. His entire form crackled with the power that his adversary had unleashed on him. The dragon righted himself, but now he twitched from pain. His breathing was irregular.

“You cannot defeat me! I am Toma!”