Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III (85 page)

Cabe turned away, too sick to his stomach to watch the final moments. In little more than the blink of an eye, he had watched a living creature be reduced to dust.

By the time he had recovered enough to look again, all that remained of the leader was his cloak, partly tangled in the tree branches, empty bits of black armor . . . and an unsettling mound of dust. He forced himself to sift through the remains, but there was no sign of what had protected his adversary from his spells or what had finally killed the wolf raider. In fact, there was not much of anything. No clues. Nothing.

Then it was that Cabe Bedlam recalled the other hooded figures. His stomach recoiled, but he had no choice. He suspected what he would find, but that did not mean he did not have to look.

It proved to be as he had feared. Of the others, even the drake who had fallen for his trick, there remained nothing but bits of armor, metal objects, the mysterious cloaks, and foul piles of ash.

Had they willingly let this be done to them? He could hardly believe so, despite what the leader had said, and despite the words that had given credence to the notion that the Aramite had been responsible for this entire plot. He was aware that he was grasping at straws, but too many things had fallen into place easily while others had not.

The warlock studied the carved exterior of the box as if it could give him some of the answers he craved.

To his surprise, it gave the two most important answers of all. Both he desired, but one he would have preferred not to have known.

The box was what he had feared it would be. An artifact so ancient but still capable of the evil for which it had been created. Exhaling, the weary sorcerer cautiously touched the front. At least it had not been designed to confound. Opening it would be the easy part, possibly the
only
easy part from this point on.

Cabe turned the box so that it would open away from him. Then, taking a deep breath, he pressed the lock and lifted the lid back.

The scream shattered the night and almost caused the warlock to drop the box. A black cloud burst forth from the box, a black cloud darker than night.

“I am
free!
Free!” A mocking laugh followed, a laugh almost as horrifying in its own way as the shriek preceding it.

The black cloud sprouted long legs and a tail. A head, at first twisted and unidentifiable, grew from the front of the cloud, while at the same time the tail rose in the back.

Darkhorse coalesced before him, the shadow steed’s hooves more than a yard from the earth below.

“I am free!” he roared. The eternal looked down and the ice-blue orbs that were his eyes widened at the small figure below and before him. “Cabe!”

“Darkhorse, I—” He had no chance to finish his statement, for the shadow steed was suddenly whirling about in the air, eyes seeking. “Where
are
they, Cabe? Where are those misbegotten vermin who have dared reintroduce me to my worst nightmare? I will draw them in and let
them
taste eternal emptiness! Where are they, Cabe?”

“They’re dead.”

At first the shadow steed did not believe him. He snorted and darted toward the nearest cloak, not yet realizing what it represented. Kicking it aside, the eternal studied with confusion the ash beneath. “What is this dust?”

The spellcaster closed the box and placed it in the folds of his robe. He would deal with the box in prompt order, but first he had to calm the maddened stallion. “That’s all that’s left of them, Darkhorse. I saw it happen to the leader.”

“No! I
will
not be denied! I cannot be!”

He kicked at the cloak, then trotted to one of the other piles. Watching the huge form dart about in the darkness, Cabe was torn between letting things end here or voicing his beliefs. To him, the box was the deciding point between taking the struggle here at face value or seeing the wolf raider and his men as the pawns they might be. In the warlock’s eyes, the Aramite and his henchmen had died so that someone else would remain anonymous.

Unfortunately for that someone, Cabe had not fallen for the ploy.

Suddenly the eternal loomed over him. “It’s true, then? My captors are dust?”

“All of them.” Cabe almost winced as he told the lie. “It wasn’t a pretty way to go, Darkhorse. I think you can be satisfied that they’ve paid.”

The shadow steed snorted. “I will
have
to be, I suppose.” He cocked his head. “I wonder what they wanted of me. How long have I been a prisoner?”

It had not even occurred to the sorcerer that his friend knew nothing of the dire deeds that had transpired since his imprisonment. Cabe swallowed. “There’s much you’ve missed, Darkhorse. Too much.”

Some of Darkhorse’s fury abated. “Your tone is not one I find I like, Cabe. What is it? What’s happened?”

The tale spilled out of the warlock’s mouth almost of its own volition. He described the foul spells that Toma had imprinted on the minds of his son and Ssarekai, then proceeded to tell of the tragedy that had befallen the kingdom of Penacles.

Darkhorse was still when Cabe at last finished. The icy eyes glowed with much less fury but more frustration.

“I am . . . sorry . . . about Toos. He was an interesting human, Cabe. Such an end was hardly fitting. So his assassins also are dead?”

“By the same manner as their leader. He was a wolf raider, probably an officer.”

“Wolf raider. . . .” Darkhorse glowered as only he could. “Even without an empire, they still manage to meddle. This explains such a fanatical mission. Only an Aramite officer would see to it that neither he nor his men would survive if the plot failed. Good in one respect, for it means less to hunt down afterward. May the Lords of the Dead have no pity on their souls. It’s over, then?”

Cabe could not prevent a sigh this time. He hoped that his companion would not read too much into it. The warlock was not certain that he could maintain the lie if pressed. “This is. There may be repercussions, though. Kyl was quite shook-up.”

“So I would think.” Darkhorse scuffed the soil, sending large chunks of earth flying. “I am still not certain about this matter, Cabe. I think someone else was behind this.”

“You do?” He tried not to reveal his anxiety.

The eternal dipped his head in an equine nod. “I would not be surprised to find the talons of
Toma
sunk deeply into this travesty!”

Seizing the notion and turning it to his own use, Cabe agreed. “You may be right.”

“We need to find that reptilian fiend and put an end to his misdeeds! I will not rest until that has happened!”

This time, the warlock had no difficulty agreeing. Even if the renegade drake had not been involved in Darkhorse’s capture, which was still not a notion that Cabe could entirely dismiss, he had much else to answer for.

“We’ll find him, Darkhorse. Somehow we will.”

The nightmarish stallion again pawed at the ground. The spark in his eyes rekindled, becoming a blaze. Yet, his form noticeably wavered, as if he still did not have complete control over it. The pupilless eyes peered down at him. “Do you intend to return to the Manor now?”

Cabe gently touched the box in his robe. He hoped his own presence shielded the artifact from Darkhorse’s senses. Despite the shadow steed’s manner, it was clear that he was weak, which was the only reason that the warlock hoped he could keep the box concealed. Darkhorse would want to destroy the box and, in truth, Cabe would have been hard-pressed to prevent him from doing so without revealing just exactly why it was necessary to keep it in one piece. The mage himself was not exactly certain why; he simply felt that the sinister device would prove a damning bit of evidence when he faced the one responsible. “Yes. I want to look around here a little first, then I’ll be returning to the Manor.”

Again the shadow steed’s form wavered. This time, when Darkhorse spoke, his voice was muffled, as if someone had in part succeeded in gagging him. Yet, his tone was still one of unbridled self-confidence. “Then I shall trust to your safety since all the villains are dead. In the meantime, there is a hunt that I must begin.
Toma
must needs be taught a proper lesson for this!” The eternal began to turn away. “If I find anything of significance, I shall come to the Manor; I promise you.”

“Are you . . . are you certain that you’ll be all right, Darkhorse?”

The ebony stallion swung his head and chuckled. “Of
course,
I will be! I
am
Darkhorse, am I not?”

Cabe could only smile and shake his head. No matter what dire straits the shadow steed faced, it seemed that there were some character traits forever ingrained in his rather eccentric personality. On the one hand, the sorcerer would not have wanted Darkhorse to change, but on the other hand, it likely would have been better for all concerned if the shadow steed
was
better able to restrain himself when it came to certain matters. Certainly, Cabe would sleep easier. Unfortunately, Cabe was aware that nothing but imprisonment or destruction would sway the injured stallion from his chosen path.

“Fare you well, Cabe, and my thanks. . . .” The massive equine began to trot . . . and was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Swifter than the wind was a phrase that failed to describe the eternal’s speed.

He doesn’t realize,
the master mage thought as he stared where his companion had stood not a breath before.
Hopefully, it’ll remain that way.

Alone, Cabe finally turned and gave the dusty remains of the conspirators one last cursory glance. Already Cabe knew that there was nothing to be learned from these. Even the leader’s empty armor and cloak left no secrets. After a minute or two of futile searching, the warlock turned his attention to the horses, but a thorough examination revealed that the saddlebags contained only some food, water, and a few other necessities for travel. The contents told him only one interesting thing; the sparsity of food meant that either the hooded figures had planned to locate supplies elsewhere, or they had not expected to ride much further after this. Cabe knew of nothing nearby. They could not hope to catch sufficient game in this area, either.

The evidence would have been circumstantial to most, but to the uneasy spellcaster, what he knew was sufficient to condemn. He dared not deal with the matter this night, though.
Best to return home and face this when I’ve rested. Maybe I’ll still find another answer. Maybe.

He remained long enough to send the horses through a blink hole, one of the large, magical portals a spellcaster could create, that would leave them in the royal stables of Penacles. One of the animals carried a note on its saddle, a missive from the warlock to the Gryphon explaining what had happened. As with the explanation to Darkhorse, it left some things unsaid.

Satisfied that the Gryphon would know best what to do with the dead assassins’ things, Cabe prepared for home. A good night’s sleep was what he would need, especially if he planned to go through with his accusations. He would need
all
the strength he could when it came time to reveal what he knew.

Even then, Cabe was not certain that he would be strong enough.

XVII

DESPITE HIS DETERMINATION
the night before, the new day found Cabe ensconced in his study, his mind a raging maelstrom of doubt and contradiction. He had been there since his return from tracking down the assassins. Neither Gwendolyn nor the children had been able to stir him from the emotion that bespelled him, and they had finally resigned themselves to allowing him to find his own way back.

Cabe could not explain to them, not without revealing what he felt should not be revealed. There had been enough tragedy and violence already; the knowledge . . . the suspicions . . . he entertained were enough to start a new war.

The damning box sat on the table before him, a dark thing both revealing and mysterious. No one knew it was here; he had cast a cloaking spell around it at first opportunity. Since no one here had known of the box in the first place, the few moments it had been unshielded had not mattered. Besides, there were so many other concerns already being dealt with that it was doubtful anyone else had had the time to even notice the brief existence of the foul artifact.

“What do I do about you?” Cabe muttered not for the first time. He prodded the box ever so slightly. “I should destroy you now, that’s what I should do.” Destroying it was not truly the answer, however. That would only leave the incident unresolved, possibly forever. The box was proof.

He knew that, but the warlock could still not bring himself to take it to its former owner.
This could set kingdom against kingdom . . . create civil wars. . . .
Cabe wondered if the one responsible for the box had foreseen that. Had they actually
wanted
that?

Cabe?
The voice that suddenly echoed in his head made him grateful he had also taken the precaution of shielding part of his mind. Despite the fact that she was now linked to her husband, Lady Bedlam would
not
be aware of the thoughts running through his head. She, especially, could not be told just yet.

It was possibly the first time he had kept something of such importance hidden from her. Cabe struggled with the shame as he responded to her mental summons.
Yes?

At last!
came her response.
I was beginning to fear for you, you know! This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to contact you.

He grimaced. Cabe did not even know how long he had been sitting here, save that the small breakfast he had forced down no longer was enough to sustain him. At present, his stomach was sounding much like a volcano preparing to erupt.
I’m sorry.

Where are you?

In my study.

The surprise was almost vocal.
Still? Darling
—

Before she could ask the question that he would again be forced to ignore, Cabe interjected,
What is it? You sound as if you have some news.