Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol III Part 23

He was careful to give the trio a wide enough berth. Once past them, Cabe did not look back. There was too much ahead of him that needed his attention.

Cabe had seen armed camps before, but the organization and efficiency of this one dismayed him. He had a.s.sumed that the wolf raiders would be a more haphazard bunch after their flight from the war, but while the men and equipment did have that weary and battle-worn look to them, this was not an army of refugees. These soldiers were here to fight. They would grumble and their officers would beat some of them, but this was most definitely a force to fear.

Walking among an army that would have slain him in an instant if his spell failed, Cabe could not help but feel ill at ease. Nonetheless, he moved through the camp with little hesitation, noting the number of tents and men he saw and estimating how many more there might be. The warlock listened to fragments of conversations about the war in the empire and the decisions of the expedition's leaders. He heard the name "D'Farany" used more than once and always in fearful respect. From what he discerned, Cabe was certain that the Aramite sorcerer was the very same man. His worry increased a hundredfold. Under a leader like the keeper, the wolf raiders became an even greater threat. D'Farany was the sort of commander who would drive his men beyond normal limits, if only out of fear of him.

Several times soldiers on sentry duty crossed his path and during one such incident one paused before him, squinting. The guard tightened his grip on his sword, but after staring for several seconds, he blinked and continued on. Cabe's heart did not start beating again until the guard was far away.

The warlock was in what he guessed was the center of the encampment when, to his shock, he sensed an all too familiar presence. It could only have been because of the fog that he had not noticed it sooner. In fact, Cabe was certain that the sense of need he had felt earlier could only have come from this source.

"Darkhorse . . ." he muttered. They have Darkhorse!

Like a beacon, the shadow steed's presence drew him along. Cabe was forced to walk around several tents and avoid numerous sentries, but at last he saw a huge, looming shape in the distance. The ensorcelled mage glanced around. The light had not changed much for the past several minutes; this was evidently as bright as the day was to become. Cabe was relieved. It would be difficult enough to rescue Darkhorse, out in the open as he was, without more illumination further increasing visibility. For once, the fog worked to his benefit.

The distance that remained he covered in swift enough fashion, but the last few yards were still the hardest he had crossed yet. Not because of any encounter with sentries, but rather because he was at last able to see what had become of his old friend.

The ebony leviathan stood silent in an open patch away from the main encampment. Two sentries stood watch from a more than healthy distance, but they were there more for decoration and were not even looking at the captive. What truly held the shadow steed prisoner was a peculiar, metallic harness device that hung around his neck. From the harness stretched four thin lines whose other ends were looped around his legs just above the hooves. Cabe could detect the power ravaging Darkhorse even from far away. The baleful Aramite device was designed not only to hold its captive in place, but to slowly drain him of any will or strength to escape. Judging by the way the eternal's head dropped and how dim the once-blazing eyes were, the foul creation of the wolf raiders was doing its work and doing it well.

The guards did not notice him, but when the warlock was only a few yards from Darkhorse, the shadow steed raised his weary head. He did not look at the spellcaster, but Cabe felt a weak touch in his mind. Cabe shuddered at the feebleness of that touch. How had the eternal come to this?

He continued on past the guards, who looked too caught up in their misery at having had to stand night duty to ever notice a specter crossing their paths. The silent warlock walked until he was next to the prisoner, then turned around so that he could keep watch on the sentries while he and Darkhorse conversed.

"Can you speak?" Cabe whispered.

"That . . . power is still mine. I had . . . given up hope . . . for you, Cabe. My heart lightens."

The shadow steed's tone did anything but lighten his. This close, he could better feel the wicked work of the harness. Each moment further drained his companion of his might. Darkhorse, however, was almost all magic; if the harness was allowed to continue its work unheeded, it would eventually drain the eternal's very essence away.

"You can't shift?"

"No, the harness prevents that."

Cabe studied the diabolical creation while he talked. "How did you come to be here? Did the patrol capture you after we were separated?"

A little of Darkhorse's bl.u.s.ter returned. The harness might be sapping his strength, but the return of the warlock was a revitalizing force. "That rabble? They scattered in every direction and never came back."

One of the guards turned, a look of curiosity spread across his war-ravaged face. His comrade also turned, but seemed more curious about what the other sentry was doing. The first man took two steps toward the eternal and stared at him. With a casual turn of his head, the black stallion stared back. The guard swallowed and stumbled back, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of his companion. Both men swapped glares at each other, then returned to their duties.

"Talk quieter!" hissed Cabe. "At the level I do."

"I have become . . . careless . . . but it is so good to see you, Cabe! I thought my obsession had cost you your life. In dwelling on the loss of one friend, one enemy, I did not pay heed when another friend needed me."

"You were trying to protect me," the human protested, still attempting to find some way of removing the harness. He had to be wary; there were alarm spells woven into the arrangement. They were old, however, likely implemented when the harness had first been created. If he was careful, Cabe was certain that he would have no trouble bypa.s.sing them. Actually releasing Darkhorse from his magical chains was a more troublesome predicament. The sorcery involved in the evil work of the device was bound also to the captive. In trying to free his friend, Cabe might kill him instead.

"Do you have any notion as to how this may be removed?"

"I do not." Darkhorse sounded much stronger, if not any more confident. "Forget me, Cabe. There are other matters you would be better off attending to."

The warlock thought about the wild Nimthian sorcery loose below, but said nothing concerning it to Darkhorse. He could not leave the shadow steed here. Besides, with the stallion's aid, perhaps a solution to that situation could be discovered. "I'm not leaving you."

Both sentries turned. Cabe moved as close as he could to his companion. Darkhorse eyed the two raiders, and as had happened before, the soldiers quickly turned away. The dark leviathan's ice-blue orbs brightened in amus.e.m.e.nt.

He tilted his head toward Cabe. "Then hear this thought. You asked how I had come to these dire straits. When I discovered that we had become separated, I searched for you. Unable to find any sign, I returned to Esedi, hoping that you would also return there. Much to my dismay, I did not materialize where I had intended. Thinking that the same . . . the same had become of you, I searched the hills carefully. Upon my return to our original point of departure, I was greeted with a surprise."

As desperate as he was to hear the point of the story, Cabe did not try to hurry Darkhorse. The eternal would explain in his own manner and at his own pace.

Fortunately, this was not to be a long tale. "Awaiting me in the hills was none other than the Lord Gryphon."

"The Gryphon!" It was all the stunned mage could do to keep from shouting the name. The one thing he had not expected was the lionbird's return from the war.

"The Gryphon, yes. He it was who joined me when I entered Legar this second time. He it was who was with me when a second and better-equipped patrol found us." The leviathan lowered his head, the gleam fading a little from his unsettling eyes. "He it is who is now, too, a prisoner of these jackals."

Which was why the shadow steed had surrendered, no doubt. Cabe forgot the harness. Turning to gaze out at the mist, he asked, "Where? Do you know?"

"There is a large, flat-looking tent to . . . to your present right. It is some distance from here. When I was being led here, I saw them put him in there."

"After I free you, we'll rescue him." His face was grim. The warlock had wished for aid in his mission and he had received it in the form of two prisoners, one weakened near to the point of collapse and the other . . . Cabe tried not to think about what the wolf raiders might do to their most hated enemy.

"You miss my . . . my point, Cabe. Rescue the Gryphon now for two reasons. The first is that he might have the knowledge to free me from this vile contraption. He knows the curs better than either of us. The second reason is of the most import; this morning he is to be presented to the leader by some despicable little monster calling himself D'Marr. I heard that much. If you do not rescue him very, very soon, I fear we will lose our only chance. This D'Marr sounds ready to treat the Gryphon to the tender mercies of the empire at this morning's confrontation. I do not think our friend is supposed to survive the event."

Cabe hesitated but a moment. As dire as the shadow steed's situation was, there was no argument that the Gryphon faced the most immediate threat. For years, Aramite spies and a.s.sa.s.sins had tried to put an end to what they considered the empire's chief foe. Now, that foe was in their clutches. It would be an inspiration to D'Farany's forces and no doubt a way of wreaking vengeance for his own personal losses if the keeper was able to present the Gryphon's battered and torn body to his followers.

"Show me again the direction," he finally whispered.

Darkhorse dipped his head toward the unseen tent. "The camp is starting to stir. They have not slept well this last night. Go swiftly but go very cautiously."

Cabe faced his old friend. "I will be back for you."

"I have faith. Your being here gives me new strength with which to battle this thing of torture. Now go!"

Slipping past the two sentries, the warlock again moved nigh invisible through the camp. He was pleased his spell still held true, but was aware that each moment made the chances of mishap greater. Cabe had to find the Gryphon, release him, and return to Darkhorse. With the Gryphon to aid him, they would surely be able to find some way to free the eternal. Darkhorse was also large enough to carry both of them, which would be a necessity once either escape was noticed.

He had just sighted the tent when a minor tremor shook the area. It was short and mild, but its appearance raised a muttering among the soldiers nearby, including those who had been sleeping before the quake had begun. Cabe gritted his teeth as he pondered what could be done. Had D'Farany tried to halt the destruction and failed or had he simply abandoned the underworld under the mistaken impression that the violence would not affect the surface?

Guessing was futile. Cabe set his mind on his present task. First the Gryphon, then Darkhorse, and finally escape. Once they were secure, then they could discuss their next move.

Although he was positive that he had found the correct tent, the warlock nonetheless decided to risk reaching out with his mind to discover who or what was inside. It might be that the lionbird had been moved to another location. It also might be that Cabe had chosen the wrong tent. Surely there had to be more than one tent so designed. Moving over to another, much nearer tent . . . just to be on the safe side . . . the warlock probed.

Gryphon? He sensed more than one being in the tent. There were several, in fact, and Cabe's impression was that they were all prisoners of the wolf raiders. Cabe investigated one of the other minds, then immediately withdrew in disgust. Quel! They had put the Gryphon in with a band of Quel.

At least I know that he's in there, too. His probe had been able to verify that fact even though Cabe had not actually linked with his former comrade. Still, it would be a wise move to alert the Gryphon to his coming so that the lionbird would be ready when the time for escape arrived.

Then, before he could act, a new presence invaded his senses. Cabe flung himself against the tent and tried to shield his own existence from the other. He prayed it was not too late. If he was discovered now, it was the end for all of them.

Out of the mist came the tall, familiar figure of Lord D'Farany. The keeper strode across the camp accompanied by several men, including a much slighter but foreboding officer who carried on his belt a crystal-tipped scepter that radiated sorcery. The shorter raider was fitting his helm on his head and looked to have been only recently asleep. He was muttering something to Lord D'Farany, who nodded once but did not otherwise reply.

The keeper suddenly came to a halt. As all but the slight officer looked at one another in confusion, the Aramite commander shifted his gaze toward the tent where Cabe hid. The talisman in his hand glowed, but no discernible spell was cast. At his side, the sinister aide also studied the spot where the warlock stood.

Despite the years it seemed, only a handful of seconds pa.s.sed before the raider commander turned away. The other Aramite continued to watch a moment longer, but when his master resumed his walk, the officer had to follow.

It was not until the danger to his own person was past that Cabe noticed where the party was heading. His fists clenched in frustration and he silently swore in the name of his Vraadish ancestors.

He was too late. The wolf raiders had come for the Gryphon.

XVI.

AS THE DAY began, soldiers all around the encampment noticed changes from the previous days. The fog moved with renewed violence and this time with a virile wind behind it. There were tremors now and then, each a little stronger than the last. Some also left in their wake peculiar humps of earth almost resembling the upturned dirt left by the underground pa.s.sage of a mole or gopher, only larger. That started muttering about the need for fresh meat, which was quickly quelled by officers, who secretly agreed.

No one paid too much attention to the changes. There was nothing that the army could do about them and rumor had it that the expedition was at last going to be moving on to better climes. That sort of rumor was more welcome and soon became the only topic of importance.

Meanwhile, the tremors increased and the mounds, sometimes appearing even when there was no quake, soon crisscrossed the entire camp.

THE GRYPHON CEASED struggling with his bonds the moment he became aware of the sounds of armored men approaching the tent. Much to his dismay, the Gryphon had made very little headway in his attempt to free himself. D'Marr's men had performed a practiced effort upon him; try as he might the bonds had not loosened one bit. That he had less than a full complement of fingers on one hand did not help matters.

Both he and the Quel looked up as a soldier pulled the tent flap aside. A column of six men entered the tent, the last two being D'Marr and a tall, scarred figure who could only be Lord Ivon D'Farany.

One of the guards removed the gag around the Gryphon's beak. The lionbird opened and closed his mouth a few times to see if it still worked.

"You have not changed much after all these years, Gryphon," the Aramite commander commented in quite polite tones. He reminded the captive of D'Rak, the senior keeper at the time of his arrival on the other continent. The same tone was there, although in this case, it was tinged with borderline madness. The Gryphon did not have to look into D'Farany's unholy eyes to recognize the sickness.

"So, we have met before," he replied.

The keeper toyed with his talisman, one of the largest of the so-called Ravager's Teeth that the prisoner could ever recall seeing. "Under the streets of Canisargos, in the days when the true Pack Master still ruled, the Lord G.o.d Ravager smiled down upon his children, and I was chosen to be my Lord D'Rak's successor."

"Under the streets?" The Gryphon recalled battles and flight as he and the drake Morgis, the latter in humanoid form, were pursued by the minions of the empire. The keepers in particular had been avid hunters. That hunt had ended in chaos and destruction, however, when the spell that had prevented Morgis from transforming into a dragon had been broken. Bursting upward through the very streets of the ma.s.sive city, the dragon, with the lionbird on his back, had flown off, leaving behind him ruin.

A lipless smile crossed the drawn countenance of the raider leader. "I led that patrol that fought you. When the dragon brought the city down upon the catacombs beneath, I was nearly crushed. I did survive though . . . only to suffer much greater later on, when our Lord Ravager's gift was withdrawn."

The Gryphon could still not recall D'Farany's features, but that had been almost twenty years ago and humans tended to change more with time. Sorcerers, even keepers, lived longer, but the Aramite commander had also suffered withdrawal from the addictive power of his dark master. That had probably done more to twist his features than the entire war.

Glancing about, D'Marr dared interrupt his commander. "Lord D'Farany, you said that we must have the camp ready to move as soon as possible. While the order has just gone out, we don't have much time."

"I am aware of what I said, Orril. I am. A pity, though." The eyes suddenly focused. "It is a pity, Gryphon, that we cannot make a grand ceremony of your death. I, for one, would have found it inspiring. I was thinking of first giving my verlok a few moments of your time and then allowing Orril to show us his prowess in the art of lingering pain."

"Death by vermin. My apologies for the disappointment." There was no great visible reaction from D'Marr, although his eyes might have flashed in anger for an instant. The lionbird tried to judge the distance between himself and Lord D'Farany. Even bound as he was, he was almost certain that a good push would send him rolling into D'Farany. It was a desperate venture, but if he was meant to die now he at least wanted one last chance at one of his foes. After what the Gryphon had learned from D'Marr about his son's death, he would have preferred the young officer's throat, but D'Marr was too far away to even consider.

"I will live with it . . ." Lord D'Farany gingerly shifted his grip on the glimmering talisman. "I made the brief acquaintance of a friend of yours, by the way. A dark-haired warlock . . . Cabe Bedlam was his name."

The Gryphon tensed.

"It would have been so cozy to bring such old friends back together, but he didn't want to come . . . so I left him buried beneath the rubble from a collapsed cavern."

c.o.c.king his head to one side, the lionbird carefully studied his captor. The drawn face, the constantly moving hands, and the stiff body told him more than the keeper's words. Cabe might be dead, but that death had been costly for the Aramite commander. He began to ponder the sudden decision to break camp when it was obvious that the Quel city could hardly be stripped of all its prizes. Cabe or Cabe's death had instigated something that bothered Lord D'Farany enough to make him uproot his entire force without warning.

D'Farany took his silence the wrong way. "I thought you cared about your friends more. You are little more than an animal, birdman. It would be best if we just put you out of your misery."

By the side, Orril D'Marr removed the scepter from his belt.

A hand stayed the raider officer. "He does not die this morning. Have him readied for the journey. His death will entertain us on the morrow."

Looking somewhat disappointed, D'Marr nodded. He glanced at the Quel, who stared back with unreadable expressions. The Gryphon thought that they looked a bit too calm considering their situation. "What about these little beasts?"

Lord D'Farany did not even give them a glance. "Kill them before we leave, Orril." To his prisoner, the Aramite softly added, "I want to spend a little time with you before your death, birdman. I want you to know the pain and suffering you caused me all those years ago . . . and I know it was you. It had to be. I have never been whole since the day the gifts of the keepership were stripped from my soul." He stroked the talisman and again smiled that lipless smile. "But here I have come close."

With that, the keeper turned and departed the tent. His aides, with the exception of Orril D'Marr, hurried after. Only the young officer and the guards remained. The former studied the bound captives and scratched his chin in contemplation.

"I should do this all myself, but I've not the time. Too bad; it would've been fun." He swung the tip of the scepter around until it was pointed at the lionbird. "At least I'll have the pleasure of dealing with you later. Let's see if you can scream as long as your son did."

Holding back the rage that boiled up within him, the Gryphon calmly and quietly responded, "My son did not scream."

It was not merely his belief. He knew Demion had not screamed. Demion would never have screamed. The Gryphon was also aware that his son had died quickly and in the heat of battle. D'Marr had never had time to torture him.

That in no way released the wolf raider from the lionbird's vengeance. Somehow, he would take the little man down.

Seeing that his attempt to ruffle the feathers of his adversary had failed, Orril D'Marr replaced the mace on his belt and summoned the two guards. "Bind his mouth and kill those obnoxious beasts. Do you think the two of you are capable of executing those orders? I mean, they are bound hand and foot."

The soldiers nodded. D'Marr turned to go, then stopped to stare at the Quel again. He reached into a pouch and removed something too small for the Gryphon to make out. Crouching, the Aramite spoke to one of the Quel males. "I have decided to give you one final chance to save your miserable lives. What's in that cavern? What were you hiding? Speak to me!"

The Gryphon guessed that the unseen object in D'Marr's tightly clenched fist had to be a magical creation similar to the crystals that the subterranean race used to communicate with those not of their kind. Talk of a hidden cavern interested him, especially the cold silence it brought forth from the Quel that D'Marr had questioned.

"It's buried forever! There's no use keeping it a secret any longer! I want to know!"

It was interesting to see the bland mask of the young officer slip away. He had obviously become obsessed with this cavern.

"Bah!" The Aramite rose, then turned toward the lionbird. "Stupid beasts won't talk even to save their useless lives."

Likely because they know what your promise is worth. At least they can die knowing they've frustrated you in this. Aloud, he wryly remarked, "You seem a bit put out. What won't they tell you?"

D'Marr's face returned to its more common ba.n.a.lity. "You. You might know about it." He leaned over the prisoner. "Far beneath the surface, past the Quel city, there was a chamber with some sort of great magical device."

"Fascinating."

The Aramite looked ready to strike him, but held back. "It's what lies beyond, what I alone of the camp knows lies beyond, that interests me more. The beasties used sorcery-I witnessed the very end of that spell-to change the entrance to solid wall. There is something so valuable in there that they willingly die to preserve the secret. I was planning to set some explosives against one of the outer walls, but circ.u.mstances worked against me. Something always worked against me. Now Lord D'Farany says the pa.s.sage is gone and we must leave here, but I still need to know what was in there." While he had been talking, Orril D'Marr had put away the tiny talisman and once more removed the scepter from his belt. He began poking the head into the lionbird's chest, but, fortunately for the Gryphon, did not make use of the weapon's more devilish aspect. "Do you know what secret they hide from me?"

Certain as he was of the cavern's contents, the Gryphon had no intention of pa.s.sing that information on to the wolf raider. D'Marr could offer him nothing. The Gryphon had no love for the Quel and they certainly cared little for him, but here, for the moment, was a common foe. Let D'Marr's curiosity eat at him. It was a small, petty bit of revenge, but at least it was something.

"I have never been to the domain of the Quel."

It was an honest statement, as far as it went. The raider officer looked ready to strike him, but their discourse was shattered by another tremor, this one more violent than its predecessors. D'Marr almost fell on the Gryphon, who would have gladly snapped off the Aramite's throat with his powerful beak if given the opportunity. One of the Quel did seek to roll into a guard, but the soldier backed out of the way and, without ceremony, thrust a good length of his blade into the creature's unprotected throat. The armored beastman gave a m.u.f.fled squeal and died. His companions rocked madly back and forth, but there was little they could do.

The tremor took long to settle. Now, the Gryphon had a better understanding of why the wolf raiders were beginning to break camp. This portion of Legar was no longer stable. That should not have been so, unless . . . The fools must have played too much with things they did not understand!