Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

“Welcome back, Darkhorse,” Grath added.

“Thank you, one and all.” The huge stallion’s ice-blue eyes glittered. “It was an entertaining excursion to say the least!”

The warlock’s relief faded. “You found more spell traps?”

“Two too many, my friend! Someone was trying to ensure most readily that I was snared!” Darkhorse’s voice lowered to a quiet boom. “I did not admit to you the trouble the first trap caused me. It came very close to capturing me as the other captured you, Cabe!”

Then what would I have done? the sorcerer could not help thinking.

“Of the other two snares I found, I can only tell you that they were traps of great cunning! Had I encountered one of them first, it might be that both you and I would have struggled in both ignorance and futility while day after day passed without our knowing it!”

“How did you deal with the spells?”

The eternal chuckled. “They were designed to trap, not cope with being trapped! Once I understood their nature, I simply swallowed them.”

“Swallowed?” Cabe tried to picture the sight, but failed utterly.

“They were quite tasty in their own way!”

Cabe was still deciding whether or not he should ask Darkhorse to expand on his remark when Kyl appeared, trailed by Lord Green and the two guards. The emperor-to-be was still clad in his riding clothes.

“Yesss, I did hear your voice after all, Lord Darkhorssse! I give thanksss to the Dragon of the Depthsss that you have come back to usss whole!”

“Did you think it would be otherwise?” returned the shadow steed, an astonished tone in his voice.

Kyl frowned, as if wondering if he had offended the eternal somehow. Darkhorse was famous for his almost childlike self-confidence. “Of course not! I trussst your journey wasss little fraught with danger?”

“A little excitement! Nothing more!” Before the heir to the dragon throne, Darkhorse would want to show no weakness whatsoever.

“Good! I know that you do not eat asss we do, Lord Eternal, but I would be remisss if I did not invite you to sssup with usss thisss evening.”

“I have already eaten,” replied the shadow steed with a quick glance to Cabe. “If you do not mind, I would prefer to begin a search of this region. One never knows what one will come across.”

“Yesss. Lassst night it was Ssseekers.”

“Oh?”

The Dragon King had informed his future emperor of the previous night’s incident. Cabe had wanted to make little of the incident, knowing it would only sow more anxiety, but had agreed that Kyl certainly had a right to know. To Darkhorse the warlock said, “I’ll tell you everything that happened the first opportunity I have tonight.”

“I would be pleased to hear!” Darkhorse gouged the earth with one massive hoof. “The knowledge of the birds’ intrusion makes me all the more determined to survey the surrounding region. Your Majesty, I thank you for your kind offer! Rest assured, one way or another, we will speak before this excursion ends.”

Kyl executed a bow. “I look forward to it, Lord Darkhorssse!”

A sardonic laugh escaped the shadow steed. “Not, ‘lord,’ my lord! Never is Darkhorse lord of anything, save perhaps the nothing from whence I came. I am to my friends simply known by my name; to my enemies, I am Death!”

The dramatic announcement was followed by another chuckle. Possibly out of habit, the drakes clustered together. Even the guards were well aware of what Darkhorse was capable of, although to their credit they remained at the forefront.

“I shall return shortly, Cabe!” roared the eternal. Before anyone could even acknowledge his departure, the shadow steed had vanished.

“We are all together,” commented the emperor-to-be. “It would require a grand fool to plot mischief now!” Kyl turned to his human guardian. “Will you be joining usss at sssupper, Massster Bedlam, or will you await the demon sssteed’s return?”

Knowing that Darkhorse was safe and now watched over the camp eased the warlock’s tensions a bit. Some food and drink could only help at this point. “I believe I’ll be joining you, Kyl.”

Even as he walked with the drakes in the direction of the heir’s tent, Cabe was aware that the respite was only temporary. Before long, they would reach Talak . . . and there the times would truly become interesting.

For now, though, he would enjoy the evening. After all, a respite was still a respite.

Aurim woke to the realization that there was someone in the room with him. He tried to be as still as possible. Through slitted eyes, the young warlock tried to spy whoever it was he had sensed.

There was no one within his range of vision. Aurim shifted in bed, pretending restlessness in his sleep. As he turned, his gaze swept the room.

Scowling, Aurim opened his eyes wide at the sight to the right of his bed.

A tall, thin man dressed in archaic robes was speaking to the air. Not a sound, however, escaped his lips. Had not Aurim known better, he might have thought he had gone deaf. He watched the man mouth words for several seconds before slipping out of bed to stand beside the silent intruder.

Up close, his suspicions were confirmed. He could see through the man to the window beyond.

The Manor held memories, centuries of memories, and some had a life of their own. This one was new to the younger Bedlam, but it looked similar to one his father had described. Cabe Bedlam had notebooks in which he chronicled each and every vision that appeared. Most of them remained mysteries. Over the centuries, many folk, some not human, had dwelled or passed through the Manor. Why their traces remained behind, neither the elder Bedlams nor Aurim knew. There seemed no reason for the particular time and place the visions were seen, nor the manner in which they appeared to the onlooker. Some included sound, others, like this one, were silent. The only link seemed to be that they materialized only before a mage. It mattered not whether the chosen one had any true power; as long as the person carried even a trace of sorcery within, he or she was liable to be confronted by the ghostly memories.

Aurim’s spectral orator began to fade. The warlock circled the dwindling figure, curious as to why it had shattered his slumber so. He had grown up around the visions and was so used to them that, unless they burst into existence before his very eyes, he was hard-pressed to notice them. Unlike his father, the younger warlock was no longer very interested in these particular mysteries.

Until now.

What was so special about this one? It was hardly even a true shape anymore. More a wisp of smoke. Yet, it had disturbed him.

The last vestiges of his ghostly companion evaporated.

The feeling that someone else had been in the room did not.

One spell that Aurim had little problem with was changing one set of garments to another. For the most part, it was a frivolous, minor ability that had served him only when he woke up too late for his lessons. Now, however, he was thankful, for it was only the matter of a single thought to change what he wore in bed to his mage’s robes. Likely it would not have mattered had he decided to forego the change, but Aurim preferred it this way. He did not want to accidentally run into one of the female servants, especially the ones near his own age, while clad in night clothes.

It was difficult to pinpoint where the trace had originated, but Aurim at last decided that the balcony was the most likely place. The trace was just a tiny bit stronger there.

Had someone been climbing into his room? Somehow, it felt more likely that, if there had been someone lurking beyond, that someone had remained on the balcony. Perhaps his room had simply been a stop on the way to another location.

As he walked toward the balcony, a tingle coursed through him. There was no explanation, but for a moment the golden-haired warlock faltered. Then, refusing to be cowed, Aurim pushed on. He reached the