The land before him began to take on a familiar appearance. Darkhorse slowed to a more cautious pace, knowing that, like his cage, what he sought would be invisible to the eye. A decade was long enough in the mortal plane for an entire world to rearrange itself and, though he was not completely certain he had arrived at the outer grounds of young Bedlam’s sanctum, it was best to approach things with the thought of traps in mind.
Darkhorse neared a copse of trees that had grown so close to one another as to be one. The shadow steed knew with little more than a glance that magic had been at work, for the trees wrapped around one another as loved ones might. The sight was a marker of sorts, for it told him that he was indeed close to his destination. The Manor grounds could be no more than-
He felt a great desire to go no farther. It was as if something pungent had been left under his nose. Darkhorse throttled back several steps, trying to recover. He snorted and glared at the location of the aromatic assault.
“Come now, Amber Lady,” he jeered, certain that the horrid scent was a product of the Lady Gwen, Cabe’s mate. “A little smell will not repel your enemies-nor those you insist of thinking as your enemies!”
The jet-black stallion reared and charged swiftly forward.
He found himself running the way he had come from.
“What?!” Darkhorse came to a dust-filled halt. He turned and stared at the direction he had originally charged. There was nothing to indicate when and how he had been turned. The spell was one of the smoothest he could recall seeing in centuries. Unlike many, there had been no sense of reversal, no noticeable tingling.
“Perhaps I’ve underestimated you, Lady Gwen!” He backed up and charged again, building his own defenses as he ran. No mere reversal spell would stop him this time.
It did not-but the sudden panic that he must have been mad to have even come this close to such a deadly, horrifying place sent him reeling back out of control.
Some distance from the stunning attack of nerves, he gathered himself. Darkhorse eyed his destination, then reared back his head and laughed. “My compliments, Lady of the Amber! This is far more an annoyance and far more creative than the original spell!”
She had placed at least three spells over the magical barrier that protected the Bedlams and their people from outsiders, and Darkhorse was not yet ready to see if there was a fourth. Each had been progressively better, and he suspected that any deeper level would stop being a deterrent and start becoming very, very painful. That left the eternal very few options. Once, when he had first met the confused young mortal name Cabe Bedlam, a Cabe who did not understand who he was and why the concerted efforts of more than one Dragon King had been focused on him, the shadow steed had called out in his mind to the untrained warlock. Had not Cabe responded, the sorcerer would have fallen victim to the wiles of three temptresses, drakes in human disguise. Now, with his powers failing, Darkhorse would have to try again. Out of sheer pride, the shadow steed hesitated, but, in the end, there was not better way.
Slowly, his concentration on the mind of his human ally, Darkhorse made his way around the edges of the barrier. It was ironic, he realized, that he who had spent so much time fighting to free himself from one cage was now desperately seeking entry to another, possibly deadlier one.
Minutes passed. There was no response. He could not even feel the presence of another mind, though that did not necessarily mean anything. It was possible that this new series of spells, so intricate compared to the old one placed on it by one of the Manor’s former tenants, also shielded those within from his silent plea. If so, he might find himself circling the grounds hour upon hour until either of the spellcasters or one of their servants happened to step without. Darkhorse’s eyes narrowed to slits as he thought of the time wasted.
When he had circled the warlock’s domain once, he paused, trying to assess the situation in the hopes that he had missed something earlier. The sun was almost gone and, standing in the midst of the deepest, darkest forest, Darkhorse was already in deep shadow. In a fit of unleashed fury, he gave up all thought of appearance and caution and, backing just a bit away from the edge of the barrier, called out in his loudest voice.
“Cabe Bedlam! Come! Give me entrance! I am Darkhorse, your friend and ally! Hurry, before the hand of Shade tears at the foundation of the Dragonrealm and lays waste to all!” A bit flowery, he decided once he had finished, but it will bring him to me! It must!
Several seconds later, something began to rustle through the brush. It kept itself well hidden behind the trees and bushes, but Darkhorse soon saw that it was too small to be a human of Cabe’s size.
“Darkhorse.” It was a statement, a child’s statement, but with something odd about its tone.
“I will not harm you, youngling! I am indeed Darkhorse, friend and ally to the master of this place!” He tried to talk soothingly.
The boy moved closer, though he still kept himself fairly obscured. There was something a bit odd about his gait and his breathing was fast, as if he had been running. Perhaps he had. He might have been far from this place when he heard Darkhorse.
“Come closer to me, youngling! I mean no harm! If you will take a message to the warlock Cabe Bedlam, I’ll be forever in your debt!”
“I don’t like you. Go away.”
Darkhorse kicked at the ground. He had little experience in dealing with young. Better a trial of combat with a Dragon King than to have to try to placate a child. It was a wonder humans survived to adulthood. “Your sire would do well to teach you manners, youngling!”
The boy straightened and hissed. Darkhorse, about to add further in the hopes that what humans termed a scolding would make the child obey him, hesitated. The boy’s reaction was too violent, too-
“My sssire is dead.”
The words were far too chilling for a human. The ebony stallion voiced his next words quietly and calmly. “You have my sorrow. Who was your sire, young one?”
He knew it would not be Cabe Bedlam, not after hearing the sibilant tones. It seemed impossible that the child before him could be what he believed it was.
As if emboldened by the question of his heritage, the boy stepped out of hiding. From his height, he was likely a decade old, maybe a year or two more. His height was the least of his characteristics. Darkhorse, who had once again come to believe that he had seen everything, found that the child left him speechless.
He had dark hair that flashed a hint of gold. His eyes were narrow, red ovals that burned bright in the darkness. His nose was tiny, almost imperceptible, and his mouth had a cruel yet majestic cut to it, thin-lipped and knowing. He was a child with a mind beyond his years.
The boy was handsome, but in an inhuman way.
The layer of scale that covered his face told the shadow steed what he was even before the boy opened his mouth and revealed sharp teeth and a tongue slightly forked. This close, Darkhorse could see the hatred in his eyes, an overwhelming hatred that no young one should have been allowed to grow up with. It had already twisted him.
“My sire’sss color wasss gold. My sire wasss an emperor.” The drake child stared resolutely into the eyes of Darkhorse-and it was the eternal who looked away first.
The hatchling of the Dragon King Gold triumphantly added, “I will be emperor, too.”
XII