Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,67

his former companion and apologized. “He hears the tales from other drakes—and humans, too. Stories, but what can I do? They’ve been around longer than me.”

“Perhaps it might be best if I altered my appearance a little.” Darkhorse became a true stallion, even altering the appearance of his eyes. “Is that better?”

“Much.”

“I should speak to you as soon as we have some privacy, young Cabe! It concerns my—return—to your land.”

As the four of them started out for the Manor, the warlock nodded. “I thought so. I didn’t think you were ever coming back. The Gryphon said you’d sacrificed yourself to keep Sh—”

“Of that we shall talk—when we have more privacy, if you don’t mind.” He indicated the hatchlings, both of whom were openly curious about what the two were saying.

“Sorry.”

Darkhorse shook his head. “There is no reason to be sorry! Come! While we have a few moments, tell me of yourself and what has become of the Gryphon. I only know tales that have been told to me by untrustworthy sources.”

Cabe informed him first of the Gryphon’s journey across the Eastern Seas to the land of his birth. The Gryphon had discovered his people, the denizens of some place called the Dream Lands, under siege by the black-armored wolf raiders, the Aramites. D’Shay, a particular wolf raider who had dealt with various Dragon Kings over a period of time, had evidently survived an encounter in Penacles that once supposedly had climaxed with his death. The missives, delivered to the Dragonrealm by drake ships of the neutral city of Irillian, did not go into detail on the subject of D’Shay. For the past few years, though, the lionbird had been aiding the revolt of many of the Aramites’ conquered enemies. The wolf raiders’ empire was crumbling, but it was a slow, bloody conflict. The ebony-armored soldiers had not conquered most of their continent by luck.

“Toos runs Penacles in his absence,” Cabe concluded. “The general refuses to be named ruler, despite the pressure on him. He and I both wanted to go and aid the Gryphon, but that would have left no one to keep an eye on certain troublemakers.”

“A wise decision, Cabe! Now, what of you? The Lady of the Amber is your mate, yes?”

It was informative to the shadow steed the way the mention of his wife made the otherwise confident warlock turn red. Darkhorse recognized the deep love the mortal had for his enchantress.

“She’s my… mate. Yes. We have—we have two children.”

“But this is wonderful news!” Darkhorse roared, unmindful at the moment of how his voice carried. After so many dismal events, the progression of life, something that both fascinated and puzzled him, cheered the stallion, especially as it dealt with one of the few mortals who fully trusted him. “You must introduce them to me—if that is acceptable to the Lady of the Amber!”

Cabe smiled in wry humor. “She doesn’t like to be called that. It’s either ‘Lady Gwen’ or ‘the Lady Bedlam.’ She’s very much into the control of this place and our children… but then, so am I.”

Darkhorse quieted as the four exited from the forest and entered the clearing where the unique structure called simply the “Manor” stood. Seeing the place reminded him again of that time when he had come to Cabe’s rescue. The Manor was a perfect complement of nature and planned design. It was difficult to tell where the building ended and the natural contours of the great tree that made up at least half of the structure began. Some walls had been completely shaped by the tree; others had been built. It was at least three stories high, with windows everywhere. The grounds had been carefully shaped to match the land. There were other buildings as well; and, though they had not been designed with the efficiency and beauty of the ancient citadel, someone had taken great care to ensure that they did not detract from the splendor of the forest.

People looked up from their tasks—people and drakes, Darkhorse amended, trying to cope with the idea of such cooperation—and stared at the horse beside their lord. It was the stare of the mildly curious, not the panicked, which evidently meant that his disguise had succeeded. Both hatchlings suddenly ran off in the direction of the Manor itself, perhaps to give warning. The shadow steed wondered what sort of reception he could expect from the Manor’s mistress. A cool one at best. Better that than open warfare.

There had to be several families