Part 77 (1/2)

”In a more complicated situation than I'd intended, but not in the impossible one you suppose. Like Ephraim, I can play more than one card.”

The wizard felt his ire increasing. ”This is no game, Shade! My daughter is somewhere in this realm and probably already at their mercy!”

”Do not underestimate your daughter,” the hooded form murmured. ”I've already made that mistake.”

”What do you-”

But Darkhorse cut him off, warning, ”The landscape is moving!”

The other two looked. Sure enough, the still lands were no longer still. They rippled and twisted and elements transformed. Hills became valleys and clawlike trees turned into macabre rock formations. The perpetual haze thickened and in it Cabe detected movement.

”Now what?” he snapped.

Shade only replied, ”Stay close together. Do not become separated. In that they hope to achieve victory-”

The ground beneath them rocked. Darkhorse whinnied. Cabe slipped backward. He caught a glimpse of Shade tumbling to his knees, then the earth swallowed the warlock.

Stay close together, Shade had warned, but that proved impossible to do. Cabe managed to cast a spell protecting him from his fall, but as he landed the quicksilver landscape washed him away from Darkhorse.

With a roar, Darkhorse took to the sky. But as his hooves left the ground, the latter reached up and snared them. The eternal let his limbs stretch as thin as needles, but still he could not escape the grasping earth.

Another hill rose between Cabe and Darkhorse, cutting off the latter from the wizard's sight. The landscape, churning violently, sent him flowing farther and farther from his companions.

Concentrating as best he could, Cabe muttered. Immediately, a golden sphere surrounded him. It froze him in position despite the attempts of the earth to move him elsewhere.

He managed to catch his breath. Around him, Cabe could see only haze and ground. In the distance, he sensed Darkhorse and Shade, but which direction they were, Cabe could not say with utter certainty.

Then darkness loomed over him. He looked up, saw a wave of earth come cras.h.i.+ng down on him. The sphere would never hold against its intensity.

Going down on one knee, the wizard thrust both hands up, his index and little fingers pointed at the oncoming avalanche.

The blue force that burst from his fingertips shattered his own s.h.i.+eld, but Cabe cared not. The powerful, primal force continued up, striking the dropping earth with all the force that the wizard could muster.

The results were devastating. The gray sky filled with dust and bits of rock. Cabe covered his face with his own hood, then attempted to recast his sphere spell. However, the effort that he had used to shatter the attacking earth had drained him too much. Without a strong and proper source of energy from which to draw, the best he could muster was a weak travesty of the original.

Cabe folded himself into a ball, well aware that even if he survived the downpour, he would likely suffer terrible injury.

But after the first few pellets of dirt . . . the deluge ceased.

He did not stir at first, fearing some trick. Yet, when after several tense breaths he was still not struck down, Cabe finally gazed up.

Empty, gray sky greeted his dumbfounded eyes.

Slowly, cautiously, the spellcaster rose. The land beneath his feet had stilled once more. Cabe took a tentative step, but nothing happened.

The wizard dared exhale.

And that was when the voice said, ”The necessary brute force, but hardly the proper dignity for my progeny . . .”

A fear that had lain dormant in Cabe for so very long burst to life. Gone were all the years of training, fighting, and learning. Suddenly he was again the young server from the inn who had been cast into a conflict that was his only because of his bloodline.

It took all his nerve to muster the strength to turn, to face the cause of his fear, the eternal fixation of his nightmares.

The black of the other's outfit-more like a uniform than anything else-was complemented by the navy blue band around his collar and his wrists. The red emblem of a dragon impaled upon a sword decorated the chest. Boots, hip-length in front, and gloves completed his clothing.

But if the garments were not proof enough of just what evil stood before Cabe, he had only to look at that face, that d.a.m.nable face, to verify his worst horror. It too much resembled his own, but was older, darker of eyes, and the mouth continually wore a contemptuous smirk. Worse, the short beard and close-cut hair bore that impossible yet familiar half-and-half look, black on one side, silver on the other.

”Do close that chasm of a mouth, my boy,” the bearded figure sneered. ”Unless you'd like to say h.e.l.lo to your papa?”

Azran . . .

VI.

”Cabe! Cabe!” Darkhorse trod without fear over the landscape. As swiftly as it had begun, the s.h.i.+fting of the earth had ended. The eternal immediately understood that he had been intentionally separated from the others. The Lords of the Dead no doubt feared his power and why not? He had more than once put them in their places, although he had never fought them beyond proving a point.

The huge stallion tried once more to leap into the air. He managed only a foot or so before the ground seized his limbs. So, they desired him earthbound. Darkhorse laughed loudly, certain that the necromancers would hear. If they thought him weakened by that, then they were sorely mistaken.

But what could be their intention? Likely they hoped to deal with Cabe and even Shade first, then concentrate on him. This trap was likely only to keep him busy until that time- A malevolent giggle echoed through his mind.

Darkhorse twisted his neck at an impossible angle. ”Who is that? Who is there?”

Again came the giggle, a sound that more and more reminded the eternal of the one thing he had ever truly dreaded.

But that was impossible. That one was dead, dead, dead.

He turned about, trying to make out anything in the thickening haze.

”Aah, dear, dear Darkhorse! I've missed you so very, very, very much! How could you stay away so long?”

A tiny, black spot formed in the mist. The shadow steed snorted, then retreated. The spot drifted toward him, growing and coalescing. It swelled to the size of a pumpkin, then began taking on a different shape. Arms and legs thrust out and the general form shrank to a doll-sized figure with no features.

No features save two ice-blue orbs that suddenly opened in the darkness that covered what should have been its face.

The giggle echoed louder in Darkhorse's head. He reared, kicking at the ebony puppet even though it was too far to hit.

”You are no more!” he roared. ”You have ceased to be! You are dead, Yureel!”

”What is death to us, my brother, who are immortal, who are without beginning or end?” Yureel floated closer. ”But wait! You do have a beginning! I did create you, didn't I?”

”And from that moment on, we ceased to have any connection to one another! I abhor everything you are, Yureel! You torture and wreak bloodshed, manipulate the minds of others simply for your own amus.e.m.e.nt!”

The puppet spun upside down, giggling. ”But whatever purpose do the ephemerals serve, hmm?”

”Their lives may be fleeting compared to ours, but they earn them far more than we ever have!” Darkhorse's eyes narrowed. ”And you have already forfeited what foul existence you had!”

He reared again, clas.h.i.+ng his front hooves together. Lightning crackled, striking out at Yureel.