Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

warlock. Cabe glanced around the area again, but still the scene through the cage remained as it had. The new presence was nearly overwhelming in comparison to the first two, but where the others had been unfamiliar to him, this one he felt he should know.

The cell shook then, tossing Cabe around in the process. Stunned, it took the warlock time to realize that his magical prison was being probed . . . and by someone with seemingly no interest in his safety.

Had his captor come for him at last? That did not seem likely. The newcomer was inspecting the cage as if having never come across its like before. The sorcerous probes were tinged with a sense of curiosity, that much Cabe could note. He wondered, Could it be . . . ?

As the warlock had done before, the newcomer began to focus his efforts on the top, where the tentacles had come together. For the first time, Cabe’s prison shimmered in a way he did not think was normal for it. Whatever the one on the outside was doing, it was having more effect on the magical cage than Cabe’s own efforts. Yet the spell withstood the new attack. The hapless mage frowned as he felt the probes of the outsider finally withdraw. It was beginning to dawn on Cabe that he might be trapped within until he starved to death.

He moved as close as he could to the side of his prison. The scene around him remained static, yet the warlock was able to sense that his counterpart on the outside had not left.

Putting his face as close as he could to the wall of shimmering energy that ran between the tentacles, the desperate mage called out, “Hello? If you can hear me, please come closer! I mean no harm!”

According to what his magical senses told him, the other should be practically in front of him, yet Cabe could see no one. Was his would-be rescuer invisible?

He called out again, but still received no response.

With no warning, the probes of the top of his cage began anew. This time, though, there was more purpose to them. Whoever it was, he understood better now what he faced. It was clear even from within the cell that the new series of probes had one purpose in mind and that was finding a weak link. Cabe grew disheartened at that; he had already tried and failed.

The walls of his prison suddenly crackled. Tiny mites of sorcerous energy darted about the interior, forcing the warlock to briefly cover his face.

Stealing a glance upward, Cabe initially saw no change in the cell’s condition. However, when he adjusted his sight so as to see the world through the eyes of sorcery, Cabe was stunned to discover that his mysterious benefactor had managed to wreak some minor havoc on the spell that held the sphere together. To his great regret, though, the mage also noted that the spell began almost immediately to compensate for what had happened to it. The crackling ceased and the weakened bonds strengthened again. Once more the invisible probes of the unseen mage retreated.

“No . . .” Cabe groaned. An idea blossomed even as the other abandoned his efforts. The warlock was certain that he had a way out of the cage, but he needed the newcomer’s aid. If it was left up to Cabe alone, the warlock had little chance for success.

Gathering his strength, the sorcerer concentrated as best he could on the mind of the other. Try again! he demanded. Try again! You must!

Cabe continued to repeat the message over and over, but after the first few times, it was difficult not to lose heart. The trap was designed too well. Despite the power the warlock wielded, he could barely sense what was happening outside. All that Cabe knew, all that he could base his hopes on, was the fact that the other had not yet departed. Yet, if his messages did not reach the other mage, how long before that other would abandon the effort, leaving Cabe to whatever fate the creator of the cage had planned for his intended victim?

Above him, he suddenly sensed new effort on the part of the other mage’s probes. In his joy, Cabe almost forgot what he himself intended to do, but then the thought that this might be his last opportunity to free himself urged the exhausted spellcaster to organize his mind and renew his own attack.

It was impossible to say with any certainty whether his pleas had reached the other, but Cabe did note that the mysterious sorcerer now probed with even more force than in his previous attempts. That was all that the warlock could hope for. He needed his counterpart to make at least as much progress as he had in the last attack. Cabe was not at all certain as to the intensity of his own assault from within. If his own power was not enough . . .

The cage began to crackle once more with wild energy. The warlock quickly pulled away from the wall nearest to him, realizing that the unstable spell might do him harm in ways even the creator had not planned. Cabe held off from attacking, hoping for just a bit more success on the part of his benefactor. He had to do this at the exact moment . . .

He sensed rather than saw the straining of the spell. The weak links were suddenly visible. The warlock still hesitated, searching for the moment of best opportunity.

He found it.

Cabe struck out, unleashing with pinpoint precision the full extent of his remaining power. He sensed the spell caging him weaken further and also noted the increased assault by the outsider. Encouraged, Cabe somehow succeeded in drawing further from his very being. Augmented by the physical sacrifice, his own attack grew unstoppable. The tentacles shivered and the shimmering between them dimmed. The point of connection above his head was pulled to its most taut. The black tentacles sought to keep hold of one another, but the spell had its limits, and against the combined onslaught from both without and within, it could not stand.

The tentacles tore free with a blinding flash. They wiggled madly about, wild snakes in their death throes. Cabe was awash in darkness, and for a moment he feared that he had been permanently blinded by the magical burst. Then, as his eyes adjusted, he saw that it was not the sundering of the spell that had caused him to see such darkness.

Day had become night. Somehow, although snared but a few minutes, Cabe Bedlam had missed the rest of the day.

With a last feeble effort, the tentacles tried to reform. Their power, their very existence, was already too much on the wane, however, and so they merely succeeded in flopping about once more before beginning to shrivel. Cabe eyed them carefully, lest some last trick be played out, but the tentacles continued to shrivel, becoming dried out, emaciated things that finally crumbled. The master warlock watched as even the ash faded. In the end, the only sign that the magical cage had existed at all was a series of small holes around the sorcerer.

He straightened and for the first time saw the one who had helped save his life.

“Are you all right, Cabe?” roared a familiar voice. “By the Void, the one who sought your life will find his own forfeit!”

A shape blacker than the night looked down upon him with glittering, pupilless eyes of ice-blue. Most would have feared what they saw in those eyes, but the warlock knew them well enough that they did not frighten him . . . much, that is.

The eyes belonged to a huge stallion who, despite the rocky ground, moved with silent steps toward the weary mage.

“I don’t . . . don’t think that they were after me! I . . . I think that they . . . they were after you, Darkhorse. . . .”

A devious chuckle escaped the shadow steed, echoing through the night-enshrouded ruins. “And instead they caught themselves a sorcerer!”

“I was looking . . . looking for you! I came here because I know you visit the ruins of Mito Pica on occasion.”

“It is to remind me of the drakes.” The words were said with such loathing that even Darkhorse was startled by the tone. He paused, then in a quieter rumble, added, “It is to remind me that all things pass beyond me. I saw this city built, Cabe.”

It was easy to forget just how old the demon steed was. Darkhorse had even known the Vraad, although he refused to say much about them. Difficult the shadow steed might be to kill, but Darkhorse was very familiar with pain. Much of his knowledge of it had come from being a prisoner of some of the ancient sorcerers.

For lack of anything else reasonable to say, Cabe repeated his earlier words. “I was looking for you.”

Darkhorse appeared to recover his spirits with the change in topic. “Ha! I know all too well! I have spent the last few hours searching for you, my good friend! I arrived at the Manor some hours