Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol III Part 15
His reverie was interrupted by a look of sudden inspiration on the horrid visage. Plool's eyes widened, then narrowed. "But I think I know who it must be . . ."
G.o.ds, no! If he blames Darkhorse, then the two of them could come to blows without any chance of explanation!
It was not Darkhorse. "They will boil in their suits of black armor. Their heads I shall use for a stairway in a citadel built from their bones; from their bones a citadel will be built. Even then, I shall not let them die, death being too good for them for having caused me such pain . . ."
Black armor. Plool had chosen the wolf raiders as his scapegoats.
The maddened Vraad was looking directly at him again. "And you, Bedlam, will aid me; aid me you will, Bedlam."
It had been Cabe's early hope that if the Aramites had truly landed on the sh.o.r.es of Legar, as he now knew they had, he would find some means, some allies, that would force the raiders from the Dragonrealm forever. What he had not been searching for was someone like Plool. Definitely not like Plool. To join the Vraad on his campaign of vengeance would be folly of the greatest kind.
The Vraad was quiet for a time, but his anger by no means diminished. He was thinking, contemplating. Cabe used the time to try to clear his own thoughts. How could he steer Plool from the direction the other sorcerer was heading to one in which the Vraad chose to return to Nimth?
The sphere! The doorway! In some ways, Plool was like a child. Cabe suspected that once turned toward the puzzle of how to open the doorway again, Plool would forget his insane vengeance on the wolf raiders. At the very least, it was worth the attempt. Plool was likely to cause more chaos than good by attacking the Aramite encampment.
Where was the sphere? The warlock looked around. It should have been in sight. Plool had embedded it in the rock, but from Cabe's angle it still should have been visible.
"What do you search for?"
"The sphere. Your doorway home. It's vanished."
Plool hardly seemed put out by that fact. "Then, I will be staying."
"You don't understand . . ." Neither, in fact, did Cabe. He did, however, have a very bad feeling that his a.s.sumptions had gone astray, that he had left out something.
He was even more certain when his feet began to sink into the hillside.
The spell that he cast in an attempt to free himself did nothing. Cabe was not even certain that it had completed, for there was no sign of any reaction, no twinge in the magical forces that held the Dragonrealm together. The warlock looked down; the earth had already swallowed him up to his shins and it was evident that the rate of sinking was increasing.
"Plool!" What was the Vraad doing? Watching him? Did he find this all entertaining?
When he looked up, Cabe saw that the truth was anything but. Plool was not standing over him, merrily watching his predicament. Plool might possibly not even be standing there, although it was hard to say, for in his place there was now a vast, opaque sphere, a glimmering monstrosity taller than a man. In some ways, it resembled the sphere that Cabe had investigated, but whereas that had been a doorway, a gate, this one was more likely a prison. A prison for a dangerous and unpredictable sorcerer like Plool.
The sphere, too, began to sink, but the struggling mage hardly cared now. He was more concerned with his own freedom, for without that he could hardly help the Vraad. His legs were now completely enveloped. At the rate he was being dragged under, he had only a minute, maybe two, to act.
Somewhere, Cabe found the strength. Tensing, he threw himself into the spell, stretched out a hand, and pointed at an outcropping. A single magical tendril shot forth and pierced the rock. The warlock attached it to himself, creating a lifeline.
His rate of sinking slowed, but that was not enough. Pleased with his success at casting a spell despite the malevolent mist, Cabe anch.o.r.ed himself in a similar manner to another outcropping. Now, his downward progress was nearly negligible. The strain on his body, however, was growing stronger by the moment. It felt as if a giant had taken him by the feet and head and was trying to tear him slowly apart like a piece of fruit. If he delayed too long, whoever sought to capture him might finally do so, but they would have to settle for half his body.
The third tendril was easier to create and cast than the previous two and while he wondered about that, there was no time to consider the reasons. This third he bonded to a formation before him, but not in the same manner as the ones on each side of it. This one Cabe kept bonded to his hands, so that it seemed as if he were holding on to a magical rope.
His concentration fixed upon the stream of power running from his hands to the rock, the warlock caused it to shorten ever so slightly. It did and to his joy he found that he rose a little. The strain was still incredible, but it was no worse than before. Still, he wished he could trust his abilities enough to do something else. He wished he had the time to think of something else. Yet Cabe was also aware that more complicated or stronger spells might not function as well here. More subtle spells, because they did not stir the forces as much as the greater ones, were less likely to go awry under present circ.u.mstances. His own attempt at teleportation was a fine example.
Becoming more daring, he shortened the strand by nearly half a foot. The warlock rose by a similar height. He allowed himself a quick smile, which promptly faded as his concentration slipped and he started to sink again. Another attempt brought him back up, but the effort was beginning to take its toll. His sides ached terribly and his breath was becoming a little ragged. Cabe dared not turn his attention to Plool's dilemma, a.s.suming that Plool was indeed a prisoner of the sphere. He did not even know if the sphere was still visible or whether it had already sunk unchecked into the hill.
His next attempt faltered and instead of the foot that he hoped to rise, he barely gained more than an inch. Still, Cabe persevered. As long as he continued to rise, he would eventually triumph, he told himself.
On his next attempt, however, he felt a new force combating him. It was not magical, but physical.
Something had clamped on to his ankles and was pulling him under with renewed vigor.
One of the two lines linked to his body simply faded. Cabe sank to his waist almost instantly. He tried to strengthen the other one, but between his need to monitor the magical bond pulling him free and the strain on both his mind and body, the tiring spellcaster could add little. Cabe watched in frustration as whatever force had eliminated the first also caused the second to dissipate.
The ground was already creeping up to his chest. Cabe put his entire will into the one bond that remained to him. His sinking slowed, then stopped again. He even succeeded in winning back an inch or two of freedom.
Then, the ground behind him shook, something shot by the left side of his head . . . and Cabe Bedlam had a momentary glimpse of a ma.s.sive, taloned paw just before it covered his face and, with the aid of others like it, finally pulled him underground.
XI.
THERE IS SOMETHING different about this place.
Sometimes, it was hard to recall that more than twenty years had pa.s.sed since his last visit to Zuu. It had been before the crisis centering around Cabe Bedlam and his emergence from hiding.
I live too long a life, the Gryphon thought not for the first time. Even the sorcerers he knew gradually aged and, if allowed, died peacefully. He, on the other hand, went on and on, fighting wars and trying to find his place in the world. Even when he had learned his own origins, learned that once his body had been that of one of the Faceless Ones of the other continent, he had not felt as if he knew who he was. There had only been two places where he had ever felt comfortable with himself. Safe. One was Penacles, which had embraced him as its leader despite his monstrous appearance.
The other place was wherever his family happened to be. With Troia and Demion, he had known true peace of mind, even during the worst years of the war.
Now Demion was dead and Troia, still chafing about being left behind, would someday also die.
When would he?
The Faceless Ones were virtually immortal; he was not so certain that he wanted to be. Yet neither was he the suicidal type.
Reshaped to pa.s.s for human, the Gryphon walked among the inhabitants of Zuu. Things were different. There was more order, more attention. Lanith, who he recalled vaguely as a young, obstinate child, must be more ambitious than his father. The Gryphon hoped that that ambition in no way mirrored that of King Melicard. The Dragonrealm looked to be in enough chaos without two human monarchs seeking to take on the mantle of conquest the Dragon Kings had given up.
He fingered the medallion given to him by the guards at the gate. More familiar with its like than Cabe was, the lionbird understood its true purpose. The talisman was crude, however, and so it had only taken a simple spell to adjust it so that anyone attuned to it would not notice the sudden presence of a master mage.
Two hours of wandering Zuu's market area had already told him most of what he wanted to know. Again, as with the talisman, he was more familiar with how the rumor and gossip system of cities worked. Cabe, for all his skills, had not lived in the lower reaches of civilization for as long as the Gryphon had. True, the human had grown up around the taverns, but there were other levels of information. He had not had to survive as the lionbird had had to do in the early days. Few, if anyone, had the sum total experience that the Gryphon had.
And how I envy you that, Cabe.
He saw no purpose in remaining any longer. The sun was already down and each minute he delayed added to the off-chance that one of the king's new spellcasters might, just might, detect him. The Gryphon, like Cabe, did not want to cause an incident. He already knew of the mysterious goings-on in the city and suspected that the warlock and the demon steed had nearly been discovered. While it was possible the Gryphon would be able to call upon his role as monarch of Penacles to protect himself, it would be embarra.s.sing to his former kingdom and good Toos to try to explain why he was skulking about in another's domain.
One item he had learned interested him most of all. There was some news about Legar. A dank fog had risen and those who had dared traverse the regions near the border had told of a mist so thick it was impossible to see anything. Curiously, this mist ended almost exactly at the inner edge of the peninsula, less than a few yards from where Esedi began. No one doubted it was magic, but having lived near the domain of the Crystal Dragon for so many generations, the people of Zuu were inclined to believe it was simply a step by the lord of Legar to further isolate himself from the world. After all, the fog did end before Esedi, not after. Not even the least tendril extended into those lands claimed by Lanith's kingdom.
It is amazing, the peace of mind some can have. The Gryphon was not so confident. To him the foul haze meant that the wolf raiders must be there, as the Bedlams had feared. That meant that Cabe might be in more danger than he was prepared for, even with the aid of Darkhorse. From experience, the lionbird knew of some of the Aramites' deadly tricks. He knew them better than anyone and knew also that D'Farany would be plotting others.
Abandoning his listening position at one of the danker establishments, which he still found of higher quality than many he had visited during his long life, the Gryphon sought out one of the more secluded alleys. It was time to begin following Cabe's trail and for that he needed to perform a little magic. It would be subtle enough to escape the attention of the third-rate sorcerers who had created the talismans, but still powerful enough to accomplish its mission.
In the darkness of the narrow street, he removed a single object from the folds of his weathered cloak. The object had been carefully wrapped in a piece of cloth so as to be affected as little as possible by his own presence. Both the cloth and what it enshrouded had come from the personal effects of Cabe Bedlam.
He quickly unfolded the cloth and removed his prize. It was a short blade of the type used for shaving. One of the warlock's foibles concerned shaving without the use of sorcery. Cabe's detestation of any sort of magical alteration to his physical being amused the Gryphon at times, but in this instance it had come in handy. Metal objects were always best for this sort of spell. They had a better affinity for their user, especially mages. There were reasons why this was so, but they were of no concern to the lionbird at the moment. Finding Cabe's trail was.
For one of his vast experience, the spell was nothing to perform. He felt the tingle as the blade became attuned. It would lead him along the path Cabe and Darkhorse had followed. The lionbird never considered following the magical trail left by the demon steed. As unique as that trail was, enough time had pa.s.sed that following it would be more troublesome than what he was doing now. A physical object was always better, even in this case.
His hand and the blade once more buried in the voluminous folds of his cloak, he set out. The vague trail that most every spellcaster left led the Gryphon toward one of the countless stables he knew dotted the city. Likely Darkhorse had been stabled there. The trail grew confusing, however, which meant that not only had Cabe spent much time here, but he had moved around quite a bit in the nearby vicinity.
Some might have questioned the need to search at all, considering that the dark-haired spellcaster's last message had mentioned the hills of Esedi, but the Gryphon was concerned with more than just his human friend. The Lady Gwen had not been entirely forthcoming, but he was certain that she was very concerned too with what had happened in Zuu. Cabe's note was deceptively matter-of-fact. So much so, in fact, that the lionbird had agreed with the enchantress's a.s.sumption that Zuu had not been a simple pause in the warlock's journey.
Gwendolyn's concern was for the health and well-being of her mate. The Gryphon's concern included Cabe, but also the potential danger Zuu might now represent. Not merely Zuu, either. For all he knew there were already Aramite spies in the city. Again, the raiders were nothing if not efficient.
Much had happened at the stable, of that he was certain. That along with what he had heard verified much. He would have to relay his knowledge to Toos once this was over, a.s.suming that the lanky former mercenary did not already know. This kingdom would bear watching.
It was impossible to avoid other folk, but this was hardly the first time the Gryphon had performed such covert activity. His every step was carefully planned despite how casual his actions might appear to an onlooker. At the stables he toyed with one of his boots, acting as if something had slipped inside and was now causing him annoyance. Dressed as an outsider and already having been in more than one tavern, it was hardly surprising that he also staggered to and fro a bit as he walked. Since he was clearly a visitor it was also no surprise that he would be glancing around at everything.
The trail left the stables simple enough, but near one of the local establishments, a strong pull made him turn. He stared at the well-lit entrance to a place called Belfour's Champion. There was another trail leading off into the far streets, but this one was stronger, almost as if it were so recent it had not had time to dissipate.
Now what do we have here? There was no reason for Cabe's return to Zuu. Knowing the human as he did, if Cabe had finished his mission, he would have returned home to the Manor the instant it was possible for him to do so. Yet, the blade tingled as if the warlock himself sat inside.
Only one way to discover the truth.
He entered the inn, all but ignoring the enticing smells. Belfour's Champion was a bustling place and it was everything he could do just to scan the crowd while not looking suspicious. The blade hidden in his hand gave him focus. He carefully stumbled in the direction, noting with satisfaction that there were a few empty spots on some of the benches ahead of him. Should it become necessary, he could take one and pretend to wait for a serving girl while he continued to search.
The Gryphon pa.s.sed around the shapely backside of a particularly fetching girl, then immediately dodged by two very overstuffed patrons on their way out. He paused to get his bearings and could not help but frown. The direction had now changed. Not only had he pa.s.sed the location, but it was receding from him even as he stood there.
The Gryphon eyed the path he had taken. He saw no one that resembled the warlock. It was possible that Cabe was disguised and that although the lionbird wore a human face nearly identical to the one Cabe had known him by long ago, he would not know to look for one of his old companions in this faraway city. Still, something was wrong. Could his spell have caused him to follow a coin that the warlock had spent? Unlikely. The trail was too strong. Even if the coin or coins had just left his hands, Bedlam would have had to handle them for quite some time. It also would have required more than a few coins to create such a pull. They pa.s.sed through too many hands too quickly to generally have much attachment to any one person.
Pretending to have sighted someone who might be an old chum, the Gryphon started back. His eyes carefully inspected each person. He sidestepped several more patrons entering, the same serving girl, and- And the trail altered again. Out of the corner of his eye, the Gryphon glanced at the woman he had twice now pa.s.sed.
The more he studied her, which was something no one there would have found unusual anyway, the more he was of the opinion that she had some secret. What?
I am becoming senile! He knew what it was now. Only sorcerers of some ability would even recognize it, which still gave him no excuse for not having noted it before. Now that he knew, the woman's secret fairly screamed to him.
A sorceress! One of some mean skill, too, I would think!
What was her connection to Cabe? Why did his spell draw him to her?
She happened to turn in his direction then. Although his actions were still innocent enough, the look that pa.s.sed briefly across her beautiful countenance told him that she knew he was not what he seemed. In fact, he was certain that she knew what he was, too.
It had to be the case. Suddenly the golden-haired woman found things to do that took her to the back of the inn. The Gryphon did not wonder whether she would return, only how many exits there might be back there. He doubted she would use her skills while still inside. A sorceress who worked in taverns and inns generally did so because she was hiding what she was. That meant he still had an opportunity to catch her.
The lionbird had not been idle while he had thought all this out. Already he was at the front doorway. If he could find her before she slipped away, it would simplify things for him. If the unknown enchantress did teleport away, he still had one trick up his sleeve. The same object that had first drawn him to her would allow him to find her again.
Despite the hour, or perhaps because of it, there were a number of folk wandering about. That encouraged him, for while it slowed his progress, she could hardly use her sorcery in front of people who might recognize her as working at the inn. The blade also informed him that she was still nearby, although it was possible that the sorceress had removed the item from her person. Since she could hardly know why he was after her, he did not think she would know to do that. If he was wrong . . .
The tug he had felt suddenly ceased.
Teleported! Cursing quietly, the Gryphon turned round. Nothing was ever too easy. Still, if she ran true to predictability, she was probably not too far away. Just far enough to consider herself safe.
Sure enough, he felt the same tug. Not for a moment did he think it was anything other than her. He had performed this spell too often, too.
Without hesitation, the Gryphon teleported after her.
She was facing his direction as he materialized, but caught off-guard, her reflexes were too slow. Moving with the inhuman swiftness that had allowed him to survive for so long, the lionbird reached forward and caught her with his good hand. Only after that was done did he become aware of where exactly they were. She was bolder than he had thought, for from their location, he could just make out the inn far to his left. The woman had been watching for him rather than simply escaping, an obvious sign that no matter how skilled she was, she was still a novice in many things.
"If you even think about escape, don't."
It was very clear that the serving woman understood. He could sense the tension coursing through her body. On the other hand, he could also sense the excitement she felt. The Gryphon was familiar with her type, having met more than his share. Very fortunate that neither Gwen nor Troia came with me! This was not the sort of woman either wife would care to see around their mates.
In the few seconds since his sudden arrival, she had already become bold enough to ask him questions. "Do we visit the king now?"
"Should we?" He decided to play along.
One thing she was, was quick. The toying smile that had started to spread across her exquisite face faltered. "You're not with the king's herd of pet mages."
The rumored spellcasters of King Lanith. Now he understood her earlier panic. She was hiding, hiding from her own monarch.
"I should have known." The smile had started spreading again. "You are much too talented for one of that bunch. Not to mention much more pleasant to look at."
He kept her from reaching up and stroking his cheek. Had Troia been here, the scene would have become very unpleasant by now. In her own way, the woman before him was just as much a predator as his bride.
"Thank you, but I am spoken for."
"From the way you followed me, I wouldn't have believed that." She leaned forward ever so slightly.
He leaned forward, too, but not because of the grand and glorious sight before him. "Do not play your games with me. I might surprise you."
His tone was menacing enough that she quickly withdrew. Even subdued for the moment, however, the young enchantress was still imposing. She would be much more trouble in the years to come.
"What do you want of me? If you're not from the king, then who are you?"
"My name is unimportant, but I believe you and I share an acquaintance. One from whom you have a token of remembrance."
Her smile twisted into a grimace and one hand flinched. The lionbird reached toward a small belt pouch hanging against her thigh. He tore the pouch off. Releasing her but still keeping his eyes focused in her direction, the Gryphon opened the pouch.
There were several small items in the pouch, but only one that could belong to Cabe. The Gryphon's high sensitivity to magical auras allowed him to pick it out. A small dagger that many people carried when traveling. It was more useful for mundane tasks than cutting thieves, but then Cabe Bedlam hardly had to worry about thieves . . . excepting this one, of course. "You planned to follow him at some point? Was not one rejection enough for you?"
"You're his friend?"
"We go back a long way. How did you come by this?"
One look at his eyes warned her about lying. Unleashing her dazzling smile, she replied, "He came into the inn. I could see that he was different, one of us."
"And so you tried to seduce him . . . for what?" He thought carefully. "Training and more, I imagine. The road to power for a mage."
He had come close to the truth. The Gryphon understood the present situation concerning spellcasters. Hunted for years by the Dragon Kings, they were only now reappearing in any number. Other than Cabe and Gwen, he had only known a handful of mages of any ability who had survived the constant purges. Toos, once his second-in-command during his mercenary days, was one.
"What is your name?"
"Tori. Tori Winddancer."