Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

far from anything I might call home.

He heard a small, startled grunt from the raider. The weight on his body shifted to one side. Instinct took over. The Gryphon followed the shifting of the weight and pushed his attacker off in that direction. He heard a clatter and realized that the knife had fallen from the Aramite’s hand. Now, even with his head still ringing, the advantage was becoming his.

The raider was by no means defeated, however. Once more he tried to butt heads. The lionbird was ready for him, however, and tipped his own head out of the way. Then he did the only thing he could think of doing that would end the flight in swift fashion.

He transformed. For most shapeshifters, such an act would have left them helpless for a few precious seconds. For the Gryphon, long practiced at shaping at a moment’s notice, it was not so. Two decades of war had kept that ability well honed.

The spy let out a yelp that the Gryphon’s taloned hand all but muffled. Taken back by the astonishing sight of his adversary shifting form, the Aramite was too slow to block the attack that came next. With grim satisfaction, the Gryphon twisted his adversary’s head to one side, snapping his neck.

Verifying that the man was dead, he slowly rose and whispered, “Your life for that of my son . . . hardly a balance but certainly a beginning.”

It was only then that he recalled Tori. He transformed back into a human even as he turned to where he had last left her. It was not surprising to find her gone. Still, something had caused the Aramite to grunt in pain and shift his weight. It could only have been an attack of some sort by the enchantress. A kick in the head, he suspected. Why bring attention to herself as a spellcaster when a simple physical assault worked as effectively?

The area had grown conspicuously devoid of people and the Gryphon knew that such emptiness usually preceded an appearance by the local guard. He regretted that he had allowed his anger to seize mastery; the spy might have given him some further information, including how many of his ilk had already spread through Zuu. The city guard would have to be satisfied with the corpse. Certainly any other spies in the city would go into hiding now that one of their number was dead and they had no way of knowing who was responsible. This one had acted on his own; if there had been more, they would have entered the struggle, for he was not flattering himself when he thought they considered him a target of prime importance.

The brief respite, however much it might have put him in danger of being sighted by the city guard, had served its purpose. His head still throbbed, but his concentration was sufficient for spellcasting. It was time to leave Zuu and follow Cabe’s trail.

Trail. The Gryphon searched for the knife that the woman Tori had stolen from Cabe, but found nothing. It might have been thrown into the darkness during the struggle, but he suspected it was once more in the hands of the enchantress. She would gain small success with it now, however. In the short time he had held it, he had made a few magical alterations. If she sought out the warlock after this, she would simply reappear in the same location she had started from. Let her search for Cabe Bedlam if she chose, but she would have to do it on her own.

One of the first lessons in magic is to never assume it will always work the way you desire.

It was a lesson he tried to remind himself of each and every day. It was a lesson he was certain he would need to recall when he entered the desolate domain of the Crystal Dragon.

The city guard was near. With one last bitter glance at the raider’s sprawled body, the Gryphon regripped the guiding blade and teleported away . . .

. . . to the hills of Esedi.

The trail was stronger here, as he had expected. The blade had probably brought him to within a few yards of where Cabe himself had materialized. He allowed himself a brief human smile, for teleportation was always a chancy thing when one was not familiar with the location, then let his human guise melt away since it was no longer needed.

Cabe and Darkhorse had done fairly well in their choice of locations. Under normal conditions, they would have enjoyed an excellent view of the eastern portion of the peninsula. Not all of it, of course, but enough to enable them to plan the journey’s beginning. Legar was not as massive a region as Esedi or even the immense Dagora Forest, but it was filled with hills, crevices, and a system of underground caverns that rivaled those in the Tyber Mountains. Add to the treacherous, uneven landscape possible encounters with the Quel and now the wolf raiders, and you had very good reasons to move slowly and carefully through Legar.

And now this mist . . . He was familiar with the Grey Mists, the dank, mind- sapping haze that covered Lochivar. Lochivar, on the southeastern edge of the Dragonrealm, was the kingdom of the Black Dragon, who was the source of that magical fog. Knowing what the Grey Mists could do, the Gryphon was glad he had not simply decided to teleport into this murk. Even from here he could sense its evil. There was something wild about it, but it was the wildness of a thing in its death throes, for there was also a feeling of decay about it.

If this is how it seems under the dimness of the moons, then how is it in the daytime? Worse? How will it be when I actually enter it? He would find out soon enough. There was no real reason to remain here for even a fraction of the time he had spent in the city. Cabe and Darkhorse would have waited here only long enough to prepare themselves for Legar and the Gryphon was as prepared as he would ever be. He would learn nothing new from these silent hills, nothing that would aid his mission and his vengeance.

Nothing? He paused, noticing something for the first time. Why was it so deathly quiet here? Was the poison covering Legar so great that the wildlife could not stand to be even this close to it? That could not be. In the distance, the lionbird could barely make out a few of the normal sounds of night, nocturnal birds and animals. It was only this one region where the creatures had either grown silent or fled. Only the region in which he stood.

The Gryphon’s sword was out and ready before his next breath.

“Well, I must admit I was not expecting you!”

From the darkness emerged a huge shape blacker than the night. Ice-blue eyes glittered without the aid of the moons’ poor illumination.

“Darkhorse!”

The shadow steed dipped his head. “You are far from your war, Lord Gryphon, but then your war seems to have strayed as well!”

“You’ve seen them then. The raiders.”

“Seen them and fought them!”

“Fought them . . . and where is Cabe, then, demon steed?” Was he too late for the warlock? Had D’Farany added to his list of victims already?

The leviathan’s response did not encourage him. “I . . . lost him.”

“He-”

“No!” Darkhorse grew vehement. “He is not dead! He cannot be! We were merely separated in the foul mist! He said nothing and I thought he must be behind me, keeping clear!”

The Gryphon cut him off with a curt gesture. His general uneasiness around the pitch-black creature had given way to his concern for Cabe Bedlam and the need to know what sort of things he might face in shrouded Legar. “Tell me from the beginning. Speak carefully, tell me all, but do so fairly quickly.”

Darkhorse’s easy acquiescence surprised him at first until he reminded himself that Cabe Bedlam was one of the eternal’s few true friends. The telling of the tale was short and swift. When it was over, it was clear that Darkhorse was dismayed by what he considered his terrible carelessness. There was something more to what had happened than what the shadow steed had related to him, however. Whatever it was, its roots went deep. Some distraction in the eternal’s mind that had caused Darkhorse not to notice that he and the warlock were being purposely separated.

Oddly, knowing that the creature from the Void could become so distraught lessened some of the Gryphon’s wariness of him. He felt he understood the workings of Darkhorse’s mind better than he ever had in the past.

“The monstrosity you fought was an illusion, you say?”

“Yes, and when I turned to comment so to Cabe, he was also gone! I never heard him call out!”

“He might have, but you still might not have heard him. In that place, I would not be surprised.” The