Lying in the dirt, though, seemed an ignoble end for a mage who had, however briefly, had the strength to check him. Shade stared at the cot and slowly smiled.
It took him one breath to complete the scene… and then the warlock was gone.
Just beyond sight of the sprawling encampment, Darkhorse stumbled backward as what he had lost to the King’s spellcaster returned to him in a heady rush. His initial thrill at becoming whole again was quickly smothered by the echoes of pain and suffering that accompanied the return. He knew instantly what had been wrought and by whom. Despite regaining everything, Darkhorse chose to continue on toward the camp and the tent of the sorcerer. There were things that Drayfitt might still be able to tell him-if the shadow steed could only reach him before the elderly mage expired.
He hoped desperately that one of those things might be where Shade would strike next.
XIV
From the midst of the somber Tyber Mountains, another army set out on a crusade. A larger force coming from the west would join with them before dawn. Together, the combined legions of the new, self-proclaimed Emperor of Dragons would sweep down on the kingdom of the upstart human monarch and claim it for their lord. So as to seal his authority, the Dragon King Silver rode at the front of the horde, the huge riding drake beneath him the largest and deadliest of its kind, as befit an emperor.
The Silver Dragon’s eyes burned hungrily as he stared south, where, if one used imagination, the gates of Talak already stood open to greet him.
Someone else sensed the shock of Drayfitt’s passing.
Erini had retired early and had just fallen asleep. The princess did not wake at that moment, but rather began to dream. She dreamed of the elderly sorcerer collapsing, his life ebbing away. She dreamed of a fearsome, hooded face made all the more terrible because the emotions that it displayed were not even evil; there was annoyance, irritation, and a cold indifference to the fate of the king’s spellcaster. It was as if the life was next to nothing to this face.
The princess knew somehow that it was the face of the warlock Shade.
She dreamed of another, as welclass="underline" the ebony stallion Darkhorse. He stood poised above a fairly stable hill, staring down at the camp. Though he had not yet entered, he also knew of the death and the bitter knowledge that he was too late.
Drayfitt had had his faults, but Erini mourned his passing. There had been a bond between them, the sharing of her secret, her curse. In a sense, she felt that Darkhorse had a similar bond with her, and her dream-self drew some relief from that. At that point, her subconscious turned to the one time she had truly met the shadow steed. The chamber beneath the palace. The meeting was fixed in her mind, as was the fact that she had succeeded in freeing him.
“Princess?” Darkhorse turned, as if realizing for the first time that she was there.
Erini woke-and found herself on a cold, stone floor in total darkness.
Fear struck, but it passed quickly. She seemed in no immediate danger, and hysteria might only lead her into something worse. Pulling her nightclothes tight, Erini wished for something warmer to wear, then almost panicked again when the fabric covering her form tingled and altered. For a moment, she thought something was trying to swallow her feet; only after touching them did she realize that she now wore boots.
With her growing skills, Erini had succeeded in reclothing herself. She so marvelled at the feat that it was some time before the princess returned to the problem of her present accommodations, and when she did, Erini decided that the first thing needed was light. Only then could she get an idea of where she was.
How? was something the novice sorceress already knew. Her abilities had brought her to this place, wherever it was, and those selfsame abilities would, the princess hoped, return her to her room. First, though, came the light.
Not knowing exactly how she was to do it, Erini tried picturing a candlestick in a holder standing no more than three feet away from her. According to Drayfitt, a spell as simple as this would be almost automatic. She would not have to visibly reach out to the spectrum and touch the powers. Her natural skill would do that-hopefully.
When her first attempt yielded nothing but a slight throbbing in her temple, Erini shut her eyes tight and pictured the candle over and over, hoping that through constant repetition, she would achieve her goal.
The smell of melting wax informed her that she had succeeded. Then, the smell became a stench and brightness suddenly sought entrance through the lids of her eyes. Erini opened them wide and stared in disbelief as over a hundred candles, all burning like miniature suns, flickered and melted before her, an army come in response to her summons. The scene brought a brief smile to her lips-a smile that died when she recognized the room she had teleported herself to with her magic.
It was the chamber where Darkhorse had been held prisoner by Melicard.
There was no sign of the diagram that had made up the boundaries of the magical cage. Even the marks Drayfitt had etched into the stone floor were gone.
With the discovery that she was still within the palace and not that far from her chambers, Erini decided it might be best to walk back. Her success with sorcery had, thus far, been fair at best. Erini had altered her clothing-evidently to the type of brown leather and cloth riding suit, including pants, that was famous in Gordag-Ai-but the other spells had had wild results. Instead of one candle she had called up a hundred. In her sleep, she had teleported herself to another location. If she tried to send herself back to her bed, the princess knew that she might materialize there; however, it was just as likely she might appear back in her bedroom in her father’s palace. Explaining that to the king and queen of Gordag-Ai, even despite the fact that Erini was their daughter, might prove scandalous. At the very least, her secret would be out before she had control of her abilities.
She picked up one of the candlesticks and, after a minor internal debate, snuffed out the rest as quickly as she could. Erini wondered what Quorin or Melicard would say when they came down here and found Darkhorse free and dozens of half-melted, unlit candles standing in the middle of the floor. While it had its amusing aspects, Erini knew that she wanted to be far away when it happened. If there was one thing that might still shatter her hopes with Melicard, it was her implication in the shadow steed’s escape.
Erini stepped to the door, found it unlocked, and opened it.
Two bored guards turned in sudden shock and stared at her, openmouthed.
She tried to close the door, but one of the guards, quicker to react than his fellow, kept it open by thrusting one meaty arm against it. He was already pulling out his sword when the princess acted without thinking and thrust the candle toward his face, wishing desperately for something more effective to combat the two soldiers with than the tiny flame.
A ball of fire swelled out from the candlewick, engulfed the two hapless sentries, and dwindled back to a tiny, flickering flame… all before Erini had a chance to understand what she had wrought this time.
There was no trace of the two men. The flames had swallowed them completely, not even giving them time to recognize their fate-a minor blessing, the princess thought, her hand shaking. The candlestick and what remained of the candle itself, most of it having melted from the great burst of heat, fell from her untrustworthy grip and clattered to the floor. The stunning truth, that she had just killed two men with her unpredictable abilities, horrified her. Two men. Erini understood that they had been trying to kill or capture her, but that made it no better. She had not even been trying to hurt them; her desire for something deadlier had merely been in the hopes of stalling them long enough for her to think of something-anything.