Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

Gryphon stared at the mist, so unsettling, so hungry, even in the calm of night. “You couldn’t find his trail, either.”

“I detected nothing! I, Darkhorse, could not sense him!”

“Yes . . .” The lionbird contemplated the situation. The knowledge that the wolf raiders were active throughout Legar made his mane bristle and his claws unsheathe. He wanted to hunt down each and every one of the marauders like the animals they were and savor their deaths; yet the Gryphon knew that not only would it still not fill the hole inside, but he could not abandon a friend. In that he and the shadow steed were one. Cabe Bedlam was missing and if he had been captured by the Aramites, then there would be opportunity enough for the Gryphon to try to satiate his need for vengeance. If Cabe’s fate was otherwise, then the raiders would have to wait. He had no doubt that they would still be there. Once the Aramites gained a foothold, the only way to remove them was to kill them.

He was willing to try, but not now.

“Do you think you can find the last place you left him?”

Darkhorse gazed out at the ominous mass blanketing Legar. “I might be able to take us that far, but what use will it be?”

“It may be of some use, believe me.” The Gryphon revealed the small blade he had utilized to follow the warlock’s trail this far. “You had nothing of his to aid you in your search.”

“Even if I had, I do not think it would have worked. The mist has the taint of Nimth upon it, Lord Gryphon! You are one of the few with sufficient knowledge to understand what that means! You also knew Shade!” The shadow steed paused. “Nothing works as it should down there! The laws of magic-the laws of nature-cannot be trusted in Legar so long as that foulness remains!”

“We can only try.” The lionbird gazed at the blade. “This may be Cabe’s best, possibly only hope. Our combined skills might prove to be enough to overwhelm it.”

“Overwhelm Nimth? You must surely jest! I knew the Vraad! I knew Shade!”

The black stallion’s tone each time he spoke of the blur-faced warlock revealed volumes to the Gryphon. Shade was somehow tied to Darkhorse’s troubles. What had the Bedlams’ messages said? Darkhorse continued to search for Shade as if he might somehow have survived. Was he that afraid of the tortured warlock?

No, not afraid. If there was anyone who might understand Darkhorse and what he is, it would have been Shade.

He had no time to ponder further. Darkhorse’s inner struggles would have to wait until there was peace, assuming that ever happened. Now it was time for Legar.

“This is not Nimth and neither the Crystal Dragon nor the wolf raiders are Vraad. What exists down there can only be a reflection of Nimth’s chaos. I think that if we try the spell from as near as possible to the place where you two became separated, then we stand a chance. If it fails . . . we still have to enter. You know that Cabe would have returned here by now if he could have. He would know to do that.”

Darkhorse kicked at the ground. “I know that, Lord Gryphon! Ha! I have been thinking about it since I materialized back here! I thought he might have accidentally teleported elsewhere, but there is no place here that I have not searched and if he in some way eluded my search he would, indeed, still have returned to this location by now!”

“Then we should not hesitate any longer.”

“Very well.” Darkhorse trotted closer. “You shall have to ride me as he did, Your Majesty! We did not trust that we would arrive at the same destination, this being the Crystal Dragon’s realm. The foul fog makes the danger of that worse.”

“I agree.” As he mounted, the lionbird thought of what his companion had just said. “And do you also find it odd that the Dragon King has been so quiet even though he has in the past always dealt swiftly with those who would disturb his existence?”

A snort. “I still think that this was his doing! I, for one, would not call this doing nothing!”

“Nothing it certainly isn’t, demon steed, but it’s an unfocused, dangerous method by which to rid himself of the Aramites. If this was the Crystal Dragon’s doing, I would like to know why he chose such madness as a tool. It is as much a risk, perhaps more, as the wolf raiders are.”

“Be that as it may, we still have to journey through it!” The leviathan swung his head around so that he faced dark Legar. “Give me but a moment and I will be ready.” Darkhorse’s head tilted to one side. “Curious!”

The Gryphon leaned forward and tried to see what interested his mount so. “What is it? I don’t see anything.”

Darkhorse shook his head, sending his mane flying. “I suspect wishful thinking is all it is! When I stare at the fog, it looks not quite so dense as it was earlier! Truly, it must be the moonlight!”

Squinting, the Gryphon could see nothing. If there had been a change in the density of the fog, he could not tell. From the shadow horse’s words, it would have happened before he had even teleported to here. Whether or not it had happened, the lionbird could still not make out even the slightest detail beneath the upper surface of the shroud of fog.

Darkhorse finally stirred. “Well! It matters not! We must find Cabe! That is all that matters!”

That, a legion of wolf raiders, and a Dragon King who does not act as one would expect, the Gryphon silently corrected as he held tight. Other than those few things, we have nothing to worry about.

XII

Cabe woke to the jarring sight of a Quel face looming over him. The long snout was mere inches from his own countenance. The warlock’s nose wrinkled; the Quel’s breath was putrid.

His head was suddenly filled to bursting with overlapping images. Cabe gasped, put his hands on his head, and tried to shut the sensations out. He saw himself, the wolf raiders, the Quel, a vague image that must be the Crystal Dragon, a beach . . . there was just too much!

“Stop! I can’t take it all in!”

Mercifully, the Quel presence in his head withdrew. As he regained control of his senses, the weary spellcaster sat up and surveyed his surroundings. They were in a small cavern with only one exit, an exit guarded by yet another of the underdwellers. Cabe counted three Quel in all, but then he realized that the third, off to the far side of the chamber, was slumped over. A single image touched his mind, confirmation from the one near him that their companion was dead and had been so for some time.

He wondered how long he had been unconscious. Cabe had faint memories of being pulled under, of watching the earth fill in above him. He recalled little else after that, for something had caused him to pass out.

The Quel inquisitor reached out and pointed by the warlock’s right hand. Cabe looked down and saw a gem. He vaguely recalled it having been in his hand when the images had first struck him. He nodded understanding to the armored leviathan and picked it up.

Injury . . . urgent need . . . question?

The combination of images, sensations, and emotions was as close as the Quel could come to speaking in the human tongue. Cabe was aware of the communication crystal and found it a fascinating tool, but it took careful thinking to sometimes decipher what was meant. It was possible for the Quel to communicate to him without it, but then the images would have been less detailed and many of the projected sensations would have failed to even reach his mind.

They want to know if I’m injured in any way. He shook his head. Considering that any injury would have been the Quel’s doing, Cabe was not entirely impressed by the subterraneans’ concern. Still, it was unusual that they should place any importance in his well-being, unless they wanted something from him.

Something involving the wolf raiders?