Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,77

repelling the invasion of his mind.

Stepping up the intensity of his mental assault, the warlock began picking up random, insignificant memories. At first, he was pleased, thinking he had broken through. Then, he realized that Drayfitt had turned him toward a blind alley of sorts and that the other’s resistance was still keeping him out.

Annoyed, Shade ceased holding back his full power.

Drayfitt’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in silent agony. His hands clutched at his attacker’s, but the will behind them was failing.

The memories began flowing like a river newly released from the winter ice. It did not take Shade long to find the ones he had wanted, for, being recent memories, they were clearer, more obvious. There were memories of Darkhorse mixed among them, but the warlock let them dwindle away, seeing no use in them. What could they tell him about the shadow steed that he did not know already?

When at last he had absorbed all he had desired, Shade released Drayfitt’s head. The king’s sorcerer crumpled to the ground, eyes staring sightlessly ahead. Drayfitt breathed, but that was nearly all he could do.

Shade knelt down beside him, putting one hand on the stricken figure’s forehead. There was a mind there, but it was slowly ebbing away. He would be dead within the hour. The warlock generously closed Drayfitt’s eyes. There was no remorse; had Drayfitt not resisted, Shade would not have been forced to take stricter measures. It was as simple as that.

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 well: 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