Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III (57 page)

“Is there anything amiss, Aurim?” the young warlock’s mother asked.

“Nothing, Mother. Just came to wish Father well.”

“Don’t forget that your mother will be departing in a few days.” Cabe studied his son carefully. “Try to familiarize yourself with everything before that so that if you have any questions, she can answer them.”

“I’ve only lived here my
entire
life, Father!”

“It’s different when you have to manage this place,” Gwen reminded her eldest. “We have an entire community here.”

Aurim nodded, still a bit put out by what he thought was a lack of faith on his parents’ part. Noting that, Cabe did his best to reconcile things. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. We wouldn’t leave you in charge if we didn’t believe that.”

Neither Cabe nor Gwen added that they were also leaving Benjin Traske behind to keep a watchful eye on the young mage. That had proven to be a much more difficult decision than they had expected, for the scholar had apparently assumed that he would be riding with the caravan. While Cabe had been searching for Darkhorse, the huge man had even confronted the Lady Bedlam about it. It was, so Gwendolyn had said, the first time she had seen Benjin Traske come close to anger. Only when he had heard her out did he suddenly calm. The Bedlams had always understood the protective attitude Traske had toward his charges, but they had never realized its extent until then. Knowing that Darkhorse and the Green Dragon were to accompany the heir to Talak had evidently helped much to ease the tutor’s mind.

What would we have done without Benjin Traske all these years?
Cabe pondered. It was chiefly because of the tutor that the first elements of the school of magic, located in Penacles, were finally coming together. The man was an exceptional organizer, and although he was not himself a mage of any strength, Traske understood the underlying theories about magic, especially after so many years with the Bedlams. His aid continued to prove invaluable. Cabe supposed that it was because teaching was teaching, no matter what the subject. A good scholar could turn his skills to almost any topic.

Gwen suddenly glanced past her husband. “Lord Green approaches. I think the caravan may be ready to leave.”

“At last?” the warlock quipped. Aurim grinned. Cabe looked down at his golden-haired son. “We know you’ll do fine, Aurim, but don’t be afraid to ask your mother questions before she departs.”

The younger sorcerer nodded.

Cabe Bedlam leaned down and kissed his wife for a long moment, which made Aurim grimace in embarrassment. Cabe chuckled.

“I regret ssseparating a family,” came the voice of the drake lord. “But we are ready to depart asss soon as you desire.”

“Now is as good a time as any.” The warlock sighed. “Where is His Majesty?”

“Hisss mount is being readied even as we ssspeak. The horses would not remain ssstill for him and so he has decided on a riding drake.”

Cabe could not blame the horses for not wanting Kyl to ride them. When mounted, the dragon heir’s heritage often rose to the forefront; Kyl put his animals through paces that wore even the hardy riding drakes ragged. Horses, although swifter and with more stamina, did not have the thick hides and dull stubbornness of the reptilian mounts.

“Have a safe journey,” Aurim said.

Looking up, Cabe saw that his daughter had vanished from the window, yet there was no sign of her among those who had gathered to see the caravan off. He disliked leaving without saying goodbye to Valea, but if that was the way she was going to act, then so be it. The warlock hoped his wife would be able to talk some sense into their daughter, but Cabe doubted it. Valea was in the throes of first passion, something that common sense and parental guidance had little sway over. He could only hope for the best.

“Friend Cabe, we had bessst be going.”

He nodded, his eyes still lingering on the empty window. “The sooner the better.”

“What about Darkhorse?” asked Aurim. “He’s supposed to be going with you, isn’t he?”

“It wasss agreed that the demon steed would meet usss en route,” the Green Dragon hissed. There was a note of anxiety in his voice. “He hasss matters with which he must deal first.”

Those matters concerned the traps the shadow steed’s mysterious foe had set. Darkhorse had wanted to make certain that none still existed. He had also wanted an opportunity to search for any clue that might reveal the identity of his enemy. The eternal had agreed to meet the caravan the second night out. Swift as Darkhorse was, it did not matter where the others would be on that evening; he would find them. Kyl had acquiesced with no argument. It seemed that he was more concerned that Darkhorse be with the caravan when they reached Talak, not before.

With some reluctance, the warlock had allowed Darkhorse to go alone. He knew that a Darkhorse forewarned was proof against most threats, but there was still the fear that one of the snares might prove too much even for the eternal. If the shadow steed did
not
appear on the decided evening, Cabe was going to search for him, dragon heir or no dragon heir.

Once more he bid farewell to Gwendolyn and Aurim. Valea had still not made an appearance and he doubted now that she would.
I hope Gwen can do something about her. . . .

He rode alongside the Dragon King as they returned to the waiting caravan. Caught up in his own thoughts, a habit he seemed destined never to break, the warlock was surprised by a comment from his companion.

“The world isss never an easy place, friend Cabe,” the drake hissed quietly. “Asss much as we would like it to be so, it isss more probable that it will continue to plunge usss into one situation after another. We can only do what we feel isss bessst for all.”

“Whatever that may be,” Cabe agreed, amazed that the Dragon King should be so concerned and understanding. The master of the Dagora Forest was so very much unlike his counterparts, being almost human at times. Not for the first time was the weary spellcaster pleased to have the reptilian monarch for both ally and . . . yes . . .
friend.

He glanced ahead and saw both Kyl and Grath mounted and waiting. Grath eyed them with curiosity. The emperor-to-be, on the other hand, wore an expression of regal indifference. Cabe, looking past the mask the dragon heir wore, could read the impatience in Kyl’s eyes. Yes, both the journey and the audience held the promise of being . . .
interesting.

Thoughts of the meeting in Talak mingled with worry for Darkhorse, concern for Valea, and a thousand lesser problems.

The world is never an easy place
, the Dragon King had said.

That
, the warlock amended, was an
understatement.

VALEA LEANED AGAINST
a pillar, trying to keep herself from watching the caravan as it slowly began to depart the Manor grounds. She belatedly realized that she had forgotten to say farewell to her father, but the mistake seemed minimal compared to her other loss.

He will come back from this journey, but soon he will be leaving for the final time!
the young witch thought, a lump growing in her throat. Soon, Kyl would be sitting on the throne of the Dragon Emperor and Valea would be a fading memory to him. On the one hand, she knew that what she dreamed was foolish, but it was impossible not to imagine what life would be like if circumstances would only permit her to be Kyl’s queen. She knew her own feelings for the young drake and was certain that his were of a similar vein. Did he not make excuses to touch her hand or arm whenever possible? Did Kyl not also show her special attention whenever they were together, no matter who else was there?

Out in the yard below, the caravan continued to move. By this time, she knew that it was already too late to see Kyl one last time. Determined to prove himself, he had chosen to ride at the head of the column. It was a brave thing to do. There were men, even drakes, who wanted his life simply because of what he was.

“You are missing the departure, Lady Bedlam.”

Valea gasped. Benjin Traske was standing only a few feet behind her, yet she had heard nothing.

“I apologize if I startled you, my dear.”

“I was just . . . just thinking.”

Traske’s brow rose. “It must have been important for you to miss saying farewell to your father. The proper thing to have done would have been to see him off.”

From anyone else, even her mother, the young sorceress might not have taken the reprimand. Valea felt she was old enough to do what
she
desired, even if she knew that it might be wrong. Yet the scholar had a way of speaking to her that made her feel once more like a first-year pupil. Bowing her head, the redheaded sorceress returned, “He will not be gone long. Only a few days.”

“Do you speak of your father, or the young drake?”

Her head snapped back up and she started to protest.

Traske raised a massive hand. “Do not seek to convince me otherwise, Lady Valea. I have watched you grow up. I have learned everything about you. About
everyone
here. I know for how long this . . .
yearning
. . . of yours has been going on.”

The young woman colored.

Oblivious to her embarrassment, the scholar went on. “I was brought here by the lord of Dagora to act as teacher to both the heirs to the Dragon Emperor and to you and your brother. I have made that my life for the past many years, Lady Valea, and so you must believe me when I say that I could not perform this task for so long without becoming aware of each of your needs and dreams.” He sighed. “In truth, you are all family to me, even your somewhat arrogant paramour.”

“He’s not—”

“He will
need
that arrogance, my lady, so I do not fault him for it, believe me. Kyl has become what he has become because of the great mission before him. There are certain things that he in his role must be able to do. I like to think that I have prepared him for many of those things.” Traske’s expression abruptly softened. “Although even I would have to admit that I was not thinking he might be so drawn to one not of his own kind.”

His last statement drew Valea away from the pillar. Her eyes filled with hope. “Do you mean—I mean—does he—?”

“Very much so, I would say.”

Without warning, she reached out and hugged the elder man. Benjin Traske stood motionless, evidently stunned by her outburst. Only when Valea finally released him did he react, and that was simply to blink.

“Did he actually say anything?” Valea asked breathlessly.

“He . . . he has said nothing outright.” Traske visibly collected himself. “But what he has . . . inferred has been plain enough for me to understand.”

Still reeling with joy, Valea whirled about and rushed to the window. She leaned outside and peered at the caravan. More than half of it had already vanished beyond her field of vision. The young sorceress leaned out even further, trying to get a better view of the vanguard.

Sturdy hands pulled her back inside. “
My lady!
It would be a tragedy indeed if you fell to your death!”

She smoothed her dress, shaken both by his attempt to rescue her and by the fact that he was correct about the danger. Her control of her skills was not as sure as that of her parents. If her mother’s teachings were to be believed, it would not be the first time a mage had died through simple, physical carelessness. With power came the need for caution.

“Thank you, Master Traske,” she finally muttered.

“I see that I have underestimated the extent of your . . . love.”

Love?
It was the first time that the word had entered the situation. Even Valea had never actually thought it. Love. It must be true, she realized. Master Traske was no blind man; if he saw love, it could only be because it was there for him to see.

“
I’m in love with him. . . .
” she whispered, noticing it as truth for the first time. Why had she never thought it before? It was so obvious! What other explanation was there for the way she felt?

Then the young witch thought of her parents and how they would react if she said as much to them. “No . . . I
can’t
be!”

“You are.” Traske put a hand on her shoulder. The touch was gentle, reassuring. “Denying facts is a futile waste of time. My classes should have taught you that by now, Lady Valea.”

“What can I do?” She could not go to her mother for such advice. Benjin Traske was the only one whose counsel she could trust. He understood the world in a way that Valea had still to learn . . . might
never
learn, for that matter. Her parents were
so
protective.

“You must wait.” The scholar’s voice was low, confiding. He glanced around. “If there is one thing I know, it is that one must wait for the proper moment. It is how I’ve led my life, Valea. You must wait. I am certain that Kyl will make known the truth before it is too late. If he does not . . .” Traske shrugged sadly. “Then, it was meant to be that way.”

“But you said he
loved
me!”

“One must consider all possibilities . . . you have not been paying attention during your classes, I see.” He smiled, shattering the image of inquisitor. “I doubt, however, that matters will end that way. Just listen—”

At the sudden pause, Valea looked around. She did not notice anything at first, but then the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the area.

“We will speak later, my lady. Remember what I have said. If you want something, you must often wait. It may be a long time before you—Aurim! Do you look for us?”

Valea’s brother stopped where he was. She noted that he looked slightly annoyed, which meant that he had not likely heard any of what she and the tutor had been discussing. The novice sorceress silently thanked Master Traske for his discretion.

“N-not you, teacher. Mother wishes to speak with Valea, though.”

The girl frowned. She knew what her mother wanted to talk to her about.

“Best that you go, then, my lady.” The huge man casually squeezed his charge’s shoulder as he guided her toward her brother. “If there is one authority we must always be on the best of terms with, it is your mother.”