Legends of the Dragonrealm Vol IV Part 46

"A game, a chapter in our epic, call it what you will." The golden-haired man froze, his expression growing slack. "Just as you once told me, I'll tell you now. There is no escape for you and your friend, Darkhorse, not now . . . not ever."

"Yureel-"

Aurim giggled once more, then blinked as if waking. He studied the captive for almost a minute. Darkhorse felt the spell of silence envelop him again. "You'd better behave now. I've got to go."

The human seemed to have no recollection of what had just occurred. Darkhorse did not try to stop him from leaving, not that there was much he could have done. He could only watch as Aurim abandoned him to the silence and darkness of the stable.

The shadows only served to remind him of Yureel, who had proven as masterful as he was cruel. Yureel thoroughly controlled his puppets, utilizing their abilities proficiently so as to preserve his own strength for w It w truly needed. Now he had control of one of the potentially greatest sorcerers alive; there was no telling to what limits the sinister little demon planned to push the younger Bedlam.

He will surely use the lad against his parents just as he plans to use me against them. If Novel follows true to form, he will probably do his best to see that Aurim injures or perhaps even kills Cabe and Gwen . . .

The very thought would have made him shudder had he still had the ability to move that much. Yureel's mad epic promised blood, destruction, and betrayal. The shadow puppet obviously understood human emotions to such a point that he knew that Aurim's family would find it difficult to unleash their full might against their son. Hesitation would be their fatal flaw, the key to eliminating the only opposition possibly able to put an end to the mad crusade before it spread too far from the borders of Zuu.

He will do it. He will make Aurim attempt to slay his parents . . . and if I am any judge of ability, the lad has the power to succeed.

Aurim had no control over his body. The monstrous thing in his head danced him around like a marionette, making him do this and that for a man the creature obviously disdained. And Darkhorse probably thought Aurim had betrayed him. Thanks to the younger Bedlam's work, the shadow steed was now also a helpless captive. Even if Darkhorse did not believe his friend had turned on him, Aurim felt as if he had.

As he marched obediently through the palace halls toward the throne room, Aurim struggled to regroup his thoughts. He had never felt so frightened in his life, not even when Toma had seized hold of his thoughts for a time. The drake had merely blocked some of his memories; he had never actually possessed Aurim. That had been unsettling enough, but his predicament now was . . . hideous.

Everyone in the palace a.s.sumed that he was now the loyal servant of King Lanith. Inwardly, that could not have been further from the truth. The link that the demon Yureel maintained with Aurim made him do whatever the graying warrior demanded, but only because Yureel desired it as well. Lanith was almost as much a puppet as he was. However, the dark imp dared not completely seize control of his so-called ally because others would have eventually realized that the king of Zuu was not quite himself. Besides, Yureel did have limitations of his own.

That was the only thing that gave him some hope. His captor did not have complete access to his thoughts, not if Aurim exercised some of the concentration tricks his parents had taught him. To be truthful, Yureel probably did not even care that Aurim still sought out ways to free himself. If there was one trait that both Darkhorse and the imp shared, it was a sense of overconfidence. Yureel believed that he now owned the sorcerer body and soul. Aurim hoped to prove him wrong, although he did not know how. All he knew was that he dared not lose hope. He had to escape, if only because he knew some of what his captor had planned for him. Aurim was to lead the sorcerers of the Magical Order in battle. He was to create a link between them even stronger than the one that existed now. Through him, Yureel would combine the Order's abilities to unleash such powerful sorcery as had not been seen since at least the Turning War, when human and drake power had clashed time and time again.

There has to be a way to free myself! There has to be! Already he had been responsible for injuring his own father. Only a brief moment of brittle control had allowed him to soften the spell he and several of Lanith's pet sorcerers had hurtled at the elder Bedlam. Aurim's rising hopes of rescue, dashed once already by his part in the capture of Darkhorse, had sunk swiftly again the moment Yureel's link forced him to attack his father. The thought had so repelled him, however, that he had been able to slow his movement just a fraction enough to decrease the intensity of the a.s.sault. Even then he had feared that he had killed his parent.

It had been even more chilling to join in the hunt to track his father down, especially with the increasingly bitter Ponteroy around. The other sorcerer had been told only a short time before that he was now third in rank behind Saress and Aurim and that news still stuck hard in the northerner's throat. The king himself had suggested that if the elder Bedlam could be captured, he would be a valuable addition to the ranks once he was "convinced" of the righteousness of Lanith's cause. However, Aurim believed that given the opportunity and the necessary seclusion, Ponteroy would have very likely killed Cabe Bedlam for fear that here would be another who would become his superior in the Magical Order.

Fortunately, it had been one of the less proficient mages who had found the injured sorcerer. And what had happened next had both startled and gratified the helpless Aurim. He had both heard and sensed the attack on his fellow hunter and had immediately transported himself to the spot. Instead of finding his father alone, however, there had been a woman-one of the most beautiful women Aurim could frankly recall ever seeing-protecting his father. Her presence had so startled him that even had he been willingly working for the king of Zuu, he would have hesitated that important fraction of a second.

When she and his father had vanished a moment later, Aurim had wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. He was certain that the woman had taken his father to safety. That meant that word concerning his plight would eventually reach the Manor and Penacies. They would realize that he could not possibly be voluntarily working for Lanith. Someone would come for both him and Darkhorse.

Which meant that he would probably do his best to capture or even . . . kill . . . his rescuers, be they his parents, the Gryphon, or even his young sister.

I can't let that happen! I've got to free myself from that monster before they come! How he could do that, though, Aurim did not know. True, he had had some minor success, but hardly enough to indicate that Yureel's control was slipping. Yureel was certainly not Saress, whose abilities were far more limited. The shadow creature was as powerful as Dark- horse, maybe even more so.

He nearly collided with another figure coming from a side corridor. Aurim at first thought it was a guard, but then he noted the garish, aristocratic clothing.

Ponteroy. The renegade sorcerer from Gordag-Ai sneered at him. "And good day to you, Master Bedlam. Shouldn't you be in the throne room? I've heard that the king wants all important members of his staff there. Of course, that no longer includes me, but I know it does you."

"I'm on my way there now," Aurim heard himself say. It amazed him the way Yureel had made him two people in one. The puppet half of him acted and responded as if everything he did was normal. Only occasionally did the true Aurim show through, mostly when Saress got too close, but also on occasion when dealing with jealous Ponteroy.

He started past the other spellcaster, but Ponteroy thrust an arm in front of him. The horse-headed staff gleamed in the dimly lit corridor, a sign that Ponteroy was ready to utilize his power. "Consider yourself fortunate, boy. It was your fault that those two escaped, but for some reason His Majesty has chosen to be benevolent to you, his new champion. He won't be so kind next time you make such a mistake. I know, trust me. Don't become too comfortable in your position. That could be disastrous for you."

"Is something the matter, Ponteroy?" Saress walked lithely toward them from the direction of the throne room.

The bitter sorcerer immediately pulled his arm back. "No, nothing at all, Saress. I was merely discussing a few minor matters with our new comrade here."

"You've some things to attend to, Ponteroy. See to them."

Summarily dismissed, the sorcerer from Gordag-Ai managed one final glare at his replacement, then stalked away. Saress watched him depart, amused by his anger and frustration. "Poor little Ponteroy! This demotion was just such a blow to his oily little ego. I don't know why he's so distraught; he's still being paid his gold."

"I've got to go," the puppet part of Aurim stated. He tried to work his way past Saress, but the enchantress would not allow him.

"There's nothing to worry about. We still have time. I'm supposed to be there, too, silly." She folded her arm around his, leaning close. "We'll walk together."

She was using him again. It had not taken Aurim long to realize that while Saress might find him desirable, he was in the end only a tool in her constant quest to maintain the attention of her king and lover. The enchantress was obsessed, and Aurim finally believed he knew what she wanted. Lanith was not married and had no heir. Saress wanted to be his queen.

Aurim doubted that Lanith would ever go that far. It was one thing to make Saress his mistress, but making her queen was an entirely different matter. Few humans anywhere would be comfortable with a spellcaster on the throne. In Penacles, the Gryphon had replaced the tyrannical drake lord. In Talak, Queen Erini kept her use of her powers to such minimal tasks that many of her subjects had forgotten she wielded them in the first place. These were the exceptions, however, not the accepted. Saress would never be queen, no matter how great her attempts to stir her master's jealousy.

Perhaps deep down the sorceress knew, too, for her attempts to seduce Aurim grew stronger each time they were alone. She might be devoted to Lanith, but Saress did not seem to mind the thought of a temporary lover.

Aurim shuddered, his own reaction this time.

"Even here in the southwest the halls are chilly, aren't they? We'll just have to stay closer together, I suppose." She led him slowly along the corridor.

Fortunately, the journey was short. He and Saress entered just as King Lanith, standing over a table where a large map had been placed, finished giving orders to an older officer Aurim knew to be General Belfour, the monarch's chief commander. Belfour looked none too pleased by the instructions his liege had relayed to him, but he nodded.

The horse king looked up as the two entered. "Saress! Aurim! Where by Haron's Mare did you get to? I've got plenty of things in store for the Order and I don't intend on saying them twice!"

"I was only retrieving our wayward friend, Your Majesty. Poor Aurim seemed lost in the halls and I was afraid he might not make it here in time."

Lanith punted. "All right, then! The two of you had better listen close, because there's going to be a few changes in the intended plan."

"Your Majesty," Belfour interrupted. "I really think that we should reconsider these changes. The terrain alone makes victory uncertain. Our riders will have a hard going with it-"

Lanith's darkening countenance was enough to silence the general. "Your protest's noted, Belfour . . . now put an end to it. The decision's been made." The would-be conqueror turned an evil grin on the two spellcasters. "Besides, terrain won't be so terrible a problem with the Order now working so well together, will it, Aurim?"

It was a curious Saress who responded before Aurim would have been forced to. "Exactly what do you have in mind, Lanith? Are we ready to trample Gordag-Ai?"

It had to be that, Aurim realized. King Lanith's reaction after riding Darkhorse made more sense now. With Aurim and Darkhorse now his to command, Lanith probably felt his forces were ready to attack the northern kingdom. Yureel had turned Aurim into the perfect link for the Magical Order, a link that would enable them to focus their combined might. With Darkhorse also ready to fight for him, the king had no more reason to wait. Gordag-Ai had no defenses strong enough to deflect the magical and physical forces of Zuu.

"We ride, Saress, but not to Gordag-Ai. I've changed my mind. A more important foe must be dealt with first, a foe whose defeat will mean more to the people than even conquering the northerners would've." He slammed one fist on the map, all but obscuring the name of the ma.s.sive green land underneath. "Here."

Saress leaned forward, trying to read the map, but Aurim did not need to see the name to recognize the horse king's intended target.

It was Dagora, the vast forest domain east and north of Zuu. Dagora, land of the Green Dragon.

Chapter Eleven.

The eyes of the Green Dragon came in many forms, some natural, some not. Among the more prevalent servants who patrolled his land were the elves. They were no longer his subjects, but it behooved any elf who chose to live in the immense Dagora Forest to a.s.sist in its defense and so a pact still existed. The Dragon King aided the settlements and in return the elves aided him in watching for and ousting any unwelcome newcomers.

Of late, the patrols had come to watch the west with great interest. Everyone knew that the human king of Zuu would sooner or later lead his warriors northward to attack the other human kingdom of Gordag-Ai and there was always the chance that a few stragglers might intrude in the forest. Besides, the drake lord had requested any news of the horde's progress so that he could relay it to his sorcerer a.s.sociates in Penacles. They were taking this new conqueror seriously, even if the elves on patrol were less inclined to worry. Humans and drakes were always warring.

Sean Blackwillow led a patrol of four elves presently watching the eastern edge of Adderly. The hors.e.m.e.n had for the most part abandoned their b.l.o.o.d.y conquest almost immediately after taking it, but some activity still took place there. Sean was of the opinion that he and his friends were wasting their efforts, but it was his turn to lead a patrol and he always obeyed the dictates of the elders.

"We get to go home tomorrow, don't we?" whispered a thinner, younger elf. This was his first patrol and he was proving the most irritating of companions. In Sean's erstwhile opinion, the coming generation of elves seemed to have no patience. Of course, the elders spoke the same way of him, but they were slow, cranky grandfathers . . .

"Yes, Dyyn," he finally replied. "Tomorrow."

The four of them hid among the trees just a few yards into the thicker part of the forest. From their vantage point, they could see the easternmost hills of Adderly and, because of their exceptional eyesight, even the vague outline of the castle. Things remained unchanged, just as they had for the past four days.

Only-Sean squinted-suddenly there seemed to be a fairly wide shadow spreading along the western horizon. He stiffened, then moved a few feet forward, trying to see better.

"What is it, Sean? Another sheep?"

"Not unless sheep are swift and carry riders . . ." The lead elf blinked, hoping that what he saw was a trick of the still dim western sky. Unfortunately, the ma.s.sive shadow continued toward them, coalescing slowly into identifiable human forms on horses. There were hundreds and hundreds in sight with more following with each pa.s.sing second.

"What are they doing here?" asked Dyyn. "I thought that they already stole everything of value in Adderly. Why bother coming back?"

"Be silent, Dyyn." Sean's stomach turned. This was not right. The hors.e.m.e.n of Zuu were supposed to head north toward Gordag-Ai, not east. Not toward Dagora.

Yet, here came the golden horde, their impressive mounts quickly racing toward the edge of the forest. At the rate they were coming, they would reach the trees in no more than a quarter hour.

"Bracha, get the mounts." An older, stockier elf hurried off. To the remaining pair, Sean commanded, "You two spread out a little-"

A huge tree only a few yards in front of them burst out of the ground and flew high into the sky. Awestruck, the elves watched it go higher and higher. Only when a second tore itself free and followed after the first did they finally awaken to their danger.

"Bracha!" Sean cried. "Where are those mounts?"

A third and fourth tree shot from the earth, these so near that the three elves were pelted by a shower of dirt and rock. Sean signaled retreat. If Bracha would not bring the mounts to them, then they would go to him.

"What's happening?" Dyyn cried.

No one answered him, the answer so obvious even the young elf would soon figure it out for himself. Sorcery. Powerful sorcery. Sean knew that the human king had spellcasters working for him, but all reports had indicated that most of them were little more than sleight-of-hand artists. This attack . . . this attack was by someone much more skilled.

A tremendous crash threw Sean off his feet. He yelped as something jabbed him in the cheek. Blood trickled down the side of his face.

"Sean!" Bracha's strong hands took hold of him, dragging the injured elf to his feet. "Are you hurt bad?"

"What . . . what . . . ?"

"A tree just fell from the sky! A tree! I think . . . I think Dyyn's dead."

The patrol leader looked around. It looked as if about a dozen trees had rained down on them. An entire area to one side had been cleared, the trees lying in a jumbled pile. Sean did not see Dyyn, but he recalled the younger elf moving into the zone of destruction.

He put a hand to his cheek, wincing in pain when he touched the b.l.o.o.d.y area. Something hard and sharp still protruded from the wound. Bracha carefully removed it for him. It was a splinter of wood nearly four inches long. Sean considered himself fortunate that he had been so lightly injured. He looked around for the fourth member of the party. "Where's Iryn?"

"Over there." Bracha pointed behind himself. Sean could just make out the other elf and the mounts. "When I saw you go down, I yelled for Iryn to take hold of the animals for me while I got you."

"Thank you." Aloud, lingering crash in the distance warned Sean that not all the other trees tossed high into the air had landed. They had to leave now. The Green Dragon likely knew that something was going on at the edge of his domain, but the patrol had to report specifics not only to him, but to their own people.

Bracha helped him back to the mounts. Sean ignored his wound as best he could. It was inconsequential compared to the threat from the west.

"Bracha. I want you and Iryn to hurry back to our people. I'll carry the news to the drake lord."

"All right, Sean, but I do not see-"

A searing gust of wind nearly bowled them over. The animals grew frantic, fighting their riders for control. Behind Sean, a brilliant burst of light suddenly illuminated the entire area. A heat wave of incredible magnitude swept over the elves. Without even seeing it, the elf knew what had happened.

"Ride!" Bracha cried out, his eyes round with fright as he stared at what was occurring behind Sean.

The mounts needed no urging. They moved off at as fast a gallop as they could. Being elfin-raised, the animals could maneuver around forest paths that other horses would have found most difficult, sometimes impossible. Unfortunately, Sean knew that the thing now pursuing them would not be slowed by treacherously winding paths or wide trees. It would eat through such obstacles as if they were nothing.

He looked behind them and saw the wall of fire. It rose taller than the trees and the slight green tinge he noted was all the verification Sean needed to know that the fiery wall was yet another product of sorcery.

They will burn down the entire forest if they keep that thing alive for very long! Are they mad? What will they gain by reducing this land to ash?

The questions quickly became moot, for the wall moved with such swiftness that the heat washing over him became unbearable. Now only one thing concerned the elf as he and his companions fled and that was whether or not they would be able to outrace the wall of death.

Sean had his doubts.

The western edge of the forest was a blazing inferno and there was nothing Darkhorse could do to stop it. The coordinated power of the Order was so tremendous that it was very possible they would burn down all of Dagora if someone did not stop them. Unfortunately, at this point the only one capable of putting a halt to the wholesale destruction was King Lanith and he did not seem inclined.

The captive eternal suspected Yureel's hand in the matter. It served no real purpose for Lanith to destroy what he sought to conquer. This horrific a.s.sault on the forest was more to the tastes of Darkhorse's counterpart.

General Belfour, riding next to the king, asked, "Your Majesty, shouldn't they put an end to that fire now? We can't send the men in until things cool down a little and that will take time."

"A bit longer, Belfour. I want the drake to know what we can do to him." The king smiled triumphantly. "Don't worry, General. I don't plan on burning down the entire Dagora Forest. Just enough."

Darkhorse seemed to be the only one who noticed a shadowy presence around the king and himself, a presence he knew to be Yureel. Yureel had not spoken to him since Lanith and his warriors had departed Zuu, but had made no attempt to hide the fact that he was there and obviously in contact with the horse king.

Curse you, Yureel! Cease this terror! If you will have a war, then have a war, not this wholesale destruction!

Whether it was his demand or, more likely, pure coincidence, Lanith raised his hand but a minute later. A soldier raised a horn to his lips and blew a long, low signal.

In the distance the towering wall of fire ceased. For some distance all that could be seen were the charred remnants of once magnificent trees. Darkhorse estimated that in the s.p.a.ce of less than an hour, the king's sorcerers had burned away several hundred acres of ancient forest.

"Give the second signal."

The soldier raised the horn to his lips again and blew out a short series of higher notes. Darkhorse felt the sorcerers at work again.

"The path is cooled," the horse king announced. "Our warriors may progress. Everyone should be ready for battle the moment we finish crossing the charred region."

Everyone, including the shadow steed, knew very well that resistance would begin the moment they entered the forest. The Green Dragon surely had been notified of their presence the moment the sorcerers had first struck. The warriors of Zuu would face hidden archers in the trees, covered pits, surprise attacks on stragglers, and, of course, sorcery both human and draconian. Somewhere in the forest they would find another army, its warriors bitter and furious, awaiting them.

I must escape! I cannot allow this to continue any longer! Once more, Darkhorse tried to overcome the slave spell of the bridle and saddle, but all he succeeded in doing was weakening himself. Aurim had followed Yureel's orders to the letter.

Lanith noticed his momentary loss of strength. "I'll brook no hesitation from you, demon steed. Move."

A sharp pain coursed through Darkhorse as Lanith pulled on the reins, a new addition to his torture that had no doubt been whispered in the king's ear by Yureel. The saddle and bridle seized complete control again, forcing him forward at a quickening pace.