Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

to slow down because of the lack of visibility and their inability to sense much farther than they could see, the pair had hardly made any headway in that time. He hoped that anyone else they might encounter would at least be at the same disadvantage. His one fear was that this was a trick of the raiders, yet it would have been extremely complicated to create a spell that would blind one’s adversaries but allow one’s own army to see. Such a spell would require more than a simple thought. It would require such mental manipulation of the natural forces of the world that it would take days to even prepare for it.

The raiders also suffered from a lack of competent mages, if he recalled one of the Gryphon’s earliest messages describing the beginning days of the war overseas. Admittedly, years had passed since that message and it was possible new sorcerers had risen since then, but nothing of that sort had ever been mentioned by the lionbird in any of his later dispatches. The Gryphon would not have excluded such news.

But we’ve heard nothing from him of late . . . Although that thought would continue to nag him, Cabe was still fairly certain that the fog was not the work of the Aramites. It was not their sort of weapon.

It was only minutes later that they heard the clattering of rock.

Darkhorse halted and swung his head toward the direction of the noise. He said nothing, but twisted enough so that he could meet his companion’s eyes. Cabe nodded. One hand went to the short blade at his side. Magic was his foremost weapon, but he had learned to keep other options available.

They remained still. For a time, the only sound was the warlock’s quiet breathing. Then they heard the shifting of more rock, closer and more to their right.

The black stallion abruptly raised his head. “I smell-”

A gray-brown form the size of a large dog leapt at Cabe.

The thing was almost upon him before he struck back with a crude but handy force spell. Cabe smelled breath so rancid his stomach nearly turned. The creature howled as it was thrust back from its prey. He had not used enough power to kill it, but the thing was stunned. There was no doubt of that.

Darkhorse did not wait to see what it was that had assaulted them. He reared and came down on the beast’s head with both hooves. The skull might have been made from the most delicate crystal, so completely did it shatter under the tremendous strength of the shadow steed’s legs.

The warlock turned away in disgust. The massive stallion peered down at the horrendous carnage he had caused, then finally muttered, “Only a minor drake! A small one at that!”

“It was large enough for me, thank you. Strange, I didn’t even sense it with my sorcery.”

“Nor I! It was my sense of smell that did it in and that only when it was near enough to spring!”

Cabe finally forced himself to look down at the mangled corpse of the creature. It was not large by the standards of its kind, but, as he had commented, definitely large enough. Its presence puzzled him, however. “It should’ve never attacked us.”

“Yes, that was its undoing to be sure!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Cabe pointed at the still form. “A minor drake that small rarely attacks something our size. Maybe if it had been part of a pack, but it seems to be alone.”

“That is true,” Darkhorse conceded. “Perhaps it was confused by this infernal fog.”

“Confused and frightened. Maybe more.”

“Meaning?”

The human sighed. “Meaning that we had best be even more cautious. I think this fog’s as much a danger to our minds and our bodies as it is to our eyes.”

Darkhorse shook his mane and laughed. “We are far superior to this hapless beast! We know what this mist can do; therefore we are prepared!”

“I hope so.”

They left the corpse and moved on. More time passed, but how much more, Cabe could no longer even estimate. When the twinkle of light caught his eye, the warlock was not certain whether it was a torch or perhaps a star. For all he knew, night had already come upon them. The longer one was trapped in the smothering mist, the duller the senses seemed to become. Still, Cabe was fairly certain that what he had seen was real, not imagined. He pulled on the reins.

“A simple ‘stop’ will suffice, you know. I am not trained for the reins.”

“Sorry.” The warlock’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “I saw something to”-if they were traveling west . . . if-“to the south. A light. It twinkled.”

“Perhaps this blasted blanket is finally being thrown back, hmmm?” The eternal looked in the direction his rider had specified. “I see nothing nor do I sense anything out of the ordinary . . . not that there is much ordinary left.”

“I was certain . . .” He saw the twinkle again. “There!”

Hesitation, then, “I see it. What would you have me do, Cabe? Shall we investigate it?”

“There doesn’t seem to be any other choice. Have you noticed anything else that has had the ability to pierce this thick soup? I’d like to know what that is.”

“Then it is settled. Good!”

Darkhorse picked his way carefully toward the glimmer. Cabe noticed for the first time that the shadow steed’s hooves made no sound as he crossed the uneven, rock-strewn ground. They had probably not made a sound since the eternal had entered Legar. It was often hard for even Cabe to remember that his companion’s external appearance in no way represented what Darkhorse truly was. The eternal simply admired the form. That did not mean that he obeyed every physical law demanded by such a shape. Darkhorse did what Darkhorse chose to do.

Below him, the shadow steed snorted in what was clearly anxiety. That bothered Cabe, for Darkhorse was not a being who often grew even the slightest bit nervous.

“I know this foulness . . .” he whispered. “I know this stench; I do!”

The light winked out again. The shadow steed halted. The two studied the area before them, but everywhere they looked, they only spotted the same murkiness.

“Where did it go? Do you see it, Cabe?”

“No . . . there!” His words were barely audible. Even sound seemed deadened by the murky fog.

Darkhorse followed his outstretched hand toward the light’s new location. It was now to their right, which was west, the direction they had been originally headed. The ebony stallion snorted. “How did it come to be there now?”

“Magic.”

The eternal slowed. “I will not go about this dismal land chasing phantom lights!”

“I don’t blame-” The dark-haired spellcaster broke off as he noticed the twinkling light begin to move. “You won’t have to! It’s coming for us!”

Even Darkhorse could not have moved fast enough to avoid it. Cabe raised his arms over his face and summoned a shielding spell that he hoped would halt at least a substantial part of the oncoming juggernaut’s power.

The light struck them . . . and scattered into a thousand tinier sparks that quickly faded away, leaving no trace of their fleeting existence.

“Someone wants to play games with us?” Darkhorse snorted and looked around for someone or something on which to vent his anger. “I will be more than happy to show them a new game!” He tore at the ground with one hoof, scattering rock.

“Quiet!” Cabe whirled around in the saddle.

“What is it?”

“I thought I heard . . .” Something clinked. It was the familiar and ominous sound of metal upon metal, a sound that from Cabe’s vast experience spoke of men in armor. Men in armor who must be very near.

He heard it again, but this time it was in front of them. Below him, the shadow steed pricked up his ears, an equine habit learned during those long ago first days when the eternal had first experimented with the form.

A tall black figure coalesced before them.