Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

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Lochivan ceased screaming the moment he felt the hands upon him, knowing that he had already shamed himself before his clan. The raging wind and the stormy heavens could not take his mind from that fact.

“Have no fear concerning your reaction to the cross-over,” he heard Esad, his brother, whisper. “Most of us screamed and the rest have all felt the pain. No one will speak of it when Father arrives.”

The newly arrived Vraad gazed down at his naked form, at last feeling the effects of the storm. “My clothing-” He looked up at Esad, who was clad in armor identical to that which they had been forced to abandon back in Nimth… along with their old bodies. The armor and the rest had been conjured, no doubt, but then why could Lochivan not emulate his brother’s work? Why did the magic resist him?

“The first arrivals clothed me,” the other Tezerenee said, reading Lochivan’s mind. “It takes great effort and often more than one person to push the spell to completion.” Even with the helm covering much of his features, it was obvious that Esad was under tremendous strain.

As Lochivan stood and shook his head, causing several locks of brown and gray hair to obscure his vision, he found himself clad once more in the comfortable feel of cloth and dragon scale. The Tezerenee nodded his gratitude to those of his kin who had aided him. “Have we all made it across so far?”

“Yes.”

Something in Esad’s tone encouraged his brother to survey the others assembled. There were ten, so far, including himself, and he could see that each and every one was there. Still, something was amiss. There was no mistaking the worry in Esad’s voice, and Lochivan knew it was not for him. “Tell me what is wrong, brother?”

“A number of the golems are missing.”

“Missing?” The Vraad whirled about until he caught sight of the still forms. Seeing them even now made his stomach turn, though he would not admit that to the others. That the body he wore had once been as these…

It took him a moment to estimate their numbers and then he saw that what Esad said was true; there were perhaps a hundred of the flesh-and-blood golems remaining where Esad had reported two hundred or more. “The dragons!” Lochivan snarled, recalling the beasts that the golems had been formed from. “Ephraim will pay dearly for his betrayal! With he and his band of traitors gone, the dragons returned and devoured the-”

“No.” It was not Esad who spoke, but one of their sisters, a tall, slender woman who favored their mother in form. Tamara was her name, if Lochivan recalled correctly. She had been born some eight or nine centuries prior to both of them. It was sometimes so difficult to keep track of those within the clan, much less the outsiders as well. “No,” she repeated. “It was not dragons. There are no traces, no blood. The bodies vanished in too orderly a manner, as if those who had taken them had stood in line, one following after another.”

“Logan will be crossing in one quarter hour,” Esad reminded the two of them. “We should be preparing to guide him on this side of the veil. If we don’t, there is always the chance his ka may become lost.” The chances of such were slim as long as those back in Nimth still controlled matters; both Lochivan and Tamara knew that Esad was trying to steer them both away from a subject he found unnerving. Father would not be pleased and he would want someone physical to blame. For the moment, Ephraim was beyond his capacity to punish, but they were not.

Lochivan shook his head again. “Father must know before long. The greater our delay in informing him of this latest debacle, the worse it will be.”

“We will still have to wait for Logan,” Tamara reminded them. “We need at least eleven to reach through the veil and establish a true link of communications with the others. Any word we send now would likely be garbled, and I, for one, want everything perfectly clear when we report this to Father.”

The storm, a side effect of the transfer, was rapidly dwindling to nil. Gazing up at the wondrous blue color replacing the dark gray clouds, the latest immigrant quietly cursed the misleading innocence that lay all about him. At any other time, the clear sky would have entranced Lochivan, who had never seen such a thing. Now, though, he thought of the problems the plan had suffered of late and how the Dragonrealm was not going to fall to Barakas’s might so easily.

“Very well.” Unconsciously, he stood in a pose that mimicked the patriarch almost exactly. If his relations paid no notice to it, it was only because they themselves were often guilty of the same mannerisms.

“We have a little over a quarter hour to decide exactly how we’ll tell Father… and how we’ll avoid his anger!”

Dru started to speak, but his mouth refused to answer his desperate summons. The laughter died away, though its echo would continue on for several seconds. Trotting closer, the huge ebony steed eyed the avian party with blue orbs that chilled any who stared in them. It chuckled, a low, spine-scraping sound that mocked those who would stand against it.

One of the Seekers held up a medallion and focused on the demon horse. Dru recognized the terrible mist. It started to form around its intended victim in the exact manner it had around the hapless earth dweller earlier. In the space of a breath, it was nearly impossible to see the stallion. The Vraad could feel the sense of triumph that flashed between his captors.

The ebony steed trotted forward, ignoring the mist as the sorcerer might ignore the very air he breathed.

“If that is the best you can do,” the animal boomed, and its voice stunned Dru, for he recognized it instantly, “you should not have struck at all!”

Laughing, the entity calling itself Darkness winked at the captive spellcaster. “You should not run off, little Dru! I was most distressed when I found you missing! At least I waited while you slept!”

Two brown shapes dove down from behind the Void dweller, talons poised, while his attention was focused on the human.

“Look-” A backhand slap from the Seekers’ leader silenced him before he could warn Darkness of the danger to him. Nonetheless, the massive stallion understood enough to twist his head around, though it was too late to avoid the attack.

The first avian struck, his clawed feet ready to rend the back of the impudent creature below. To his horror and that of the rest of the party, the diving attacker found no solid flesh beneath his talons. Instead, he kept diving, sinking into the darker than dark mass that was the phantom steed. The Seeker screeched once, then seemed to dwindle as he sank completely into Darkness. It was as if he had fallen into a bottomless crevice that sucked him ever deeper despite his efforts to the contrary. In mere moments, the would-be killer had vanished, taken completely in by Darkness.

A raucous noise rose among the Seekers as they voiced their dismay.

That was what he meant by taking me, Dru realized when thought was finally possible again. He swallowed hard, thankful for his escape from such a fate.

Unable to combat his own momentum, the second winged fury joined his brother, dwindling and vanishing even faster than the first had. It was almost anticlimactic after the first, though no less horrible, and in less than a minute, Darkness had destroyed-devoured? — two opponents without even striking.

“And who will be next? All you really need do is release my friend to me! What say you?” The shadowy steed indicated Dru with a nod of his head. Once, the thought of a talking horse would have been simply a matter of amusement to the Vraad; not so now. There was nothing humorous about the astonishing stallion that the Seekers faced.

The leader glanced at Dru, at his remaining fellows, and then back at Darkness. He released his grip on the spellcaster’s neck, for which the Vraad was extremely grateful. The bonds vanished as quickly.

As one, the avians spread their wings and took to the air. With equally swift speed, they abandoned the hall-and, apparently, their goal-and flew out the same tall doorway through which the party had initially entered. All the while, Darkness kept a cold blue eye on them, openly daring them to face him down. As the last departed, he let loose with another earsplitting laugh, his final cut at the fleeing foe.

“This is too amusing! One adventure after another! I shall ever be in your debt, little Dru!”

The sorcerer did not answer, choosing to collapse to the floor, the first time he had been able to rest without the painful interference from his captors. Darkness trotted toward him, still chuckling. Dru shook his head at the incongruous sight, as yet unable to believe either the entity’s new appearance or his own luck.

“It’s fortunate that you left a trail for me to follow, friend Dru. Those things did not seem friendly sorts; I suspect they would have harmed you.”

“They certainly seemed to not be.” The weary sorcerer knew that he should move on, but the opportunity to rest unhindered for once was too sweet to pass on.

“You have not commented on my form! Is it not exceptional? Truly, the sensations and movements are nearly overwhelming! I felt the urge to push to greater and greater speeds and never slow down again… it took some doing to not keep going once I did reach this place.” The shadow steed peered around at the ruins, his attention wandering as he finally got a good look at the ancient wonders around him.

“How did you… how did you come to take that form?”

Darkness snorted, recalling what he had been speaking of. “This magnificent creature strode up to me as I unfolded, altered but still at a loss as to a final form. I thought of shaping myself into something akin to you, but the creature was so fascinating that I could not help but wonder what it would be like to move as it did, to live as it did.” The ebony stallion laughed low. “It was a most prepossessing being! Once it saw what I wanted, it allowed me to examine it. Then, when I was at last complete, it showed me the path you had taken. What do you call such a remarkable creature?”

The Vraad had grown colder with each passing word. “A horse. My kind calls such a creature a horse.” No horse was so knowing, however, at least none that Dru had ever raised. He was certain that the animal Darkness had met was the very same horse that he had once ridden. Yet, its actions had not been that of the true beast, but that of an intelligent mind. “Where is it now?”

“Hmm?” Darkness seemed distracted in his thoughts. He shook his head, sending his mane whipping back and forth. It took him another moment to answer. “It departed! I do not know where. ‘Horse’! I like it, but it lacks something!”

Dru puzzled over the last. “What about it?”

The ghostly stallion gazed at his tiny companion as if he could not comprehend the latter’s confusion. “I have a brand-new form! I need a new name!”

This was hardly the time for such things and Dru tried to tell the entity so, but the shadow steed was already tossing words about, seeking a combination that would please himself. “Mighty… black… amazing… majestic…”

“Dark-” The tired spellcaster rose, trying again to cut into the creature’s musings, but luck was not with him.

“Dark? Hmmm. Frightening… shadow… wondrous…” The ice-blue eyes focused on the human. “What say you to Darkhorse? I like the old name, but Darknesshorse runs too long.”

“It’s… descriptive of your nature.” Dru refused to even mention some of the meanings the name brought to mind. No one would jest about the appropriateness, not to such a being as this.

“Darkhorse it is, then!” The huge stallion shouted his name so that it echoed and echoed through the ruins. “Darkhorse! Darkhorse!”

Cursing, the sorcerer tried desperately to get his companion to quiet down but it was already too late. If there was anyone else in the city-and he knew that the Seekers, at least, would still be lurking about, waiting their chance-then they knew exactly where the twosome were.

Darkness-Darkhorse, the Vraad thought, correcting himself-seemed willing to listen now that he had found himself a new name. Hopefully, it would be more permanent than the last.

With the magic of the Seekers no longer dampening his own abilities and senses, Dru was becoming more and more aware of the aura surrounding-overwhelming-the ancient citadel. The building he stood in was especially awash in the sorceries of the long-dead race. It had the same feel as the natural forces of the shrouded realm itself, save that it was far more concentrated, as if the inhabitants of this place had filled their home with raw power drawn from the world. It would not have surprised him; the Vraad were capable of such, but not on the grand scale he suspected these ancients had.

“Those things that captured me-the Seekers-were looking for something in these ruins. Do you feel anything at all?”

Darkhorse sniffed the air, an act which put Dru off for a moment. Then the stallion replied, “There is a great concentration of power nearby, several such, actually. They tend to be moving, however.”

“The power moves of its own accord?” Dru had never come across anything like that on Nimth. Wandering concentrations of sorcerous energy?

“That is how it appears. What is this place, little Dru? This is the most magnificent sight you have shown me so far! So much solidity, in some ways so random and some ways so orderly!” Coming from a place where matter was nearly as rare as a clear sky was in Nimth, Darkhorse did not know what ruins were.

The Vraad did his best to explain to him his theory about the ruins. Darkhorse became so interested that he interrupted only twice, curious both instances about the passage of time, a concept he was still having trouble comprehending. After the second interruption, he angrily dropped his queries and went back to the enjoyment of what, to him, was an exciting story.

When the tale was finished, Dru sighed. Even if Darkhorse only saw the theory as a great story, at least he understood most of what had been said.

“I have told you again and again, friend Dru, that this is your world! It may not be the location you desired, but this is where you asked to be taken!”

Dru gave in, knowing the futility of arguing. Perhaps later he would broach the subject again.

“And now,” Darkhorse was continuing, “where do we find this ‘goal’ of theirs?”

“Find it?” The sorcerer had not had time to consider that. His mind was only now becoming organized enough to plan the future… and an important aspect of that future was finding a way back to Nimth, Darkhorse or no Darkhorse. Still, if the avians believed that what they sought was so important, then it might hold some key, for certainly, if anyone had ever known about the veil and Nimth, it would have been the builders of this edifice. Straightening, Dru smiled grimly. “Yes, let’s find it. They thought it was in here, but I don’t think that’s the way to go about it.”

The shadow steed had an eager gleam in his unsettling eyes. He was all ready for another game of discovery. “And how shall we go about it?”

“I can’t sense the distinctive areas of power that you can and I doubt if the Seekers can, either. Tell me, are they in a pattern-a circle or something?”

Darkhorse shook his head after a moment. “They have no pattern. Their movements show judgment, but not a regular path.”

The Vraad did not like the way his companion spoke of the power as something with intelligence. Darkhorse himself was difficult enough to accept. Dru was still getting used to the entity.

He considered further. “Is there any one area they tend to avoid or congregate near?”

When the wraithlike stallion answered, Dru’s hopes rose dramatically. “There is a place they move near and then away from. There is no place they seem to avoid completely. They…” The blue orbs dulled a touch.

“They what?”

“I do not know. It escapes me for now.”

Curious but also cautious, Dru asked, “Have any of those… concentrations… shifted near us?”

“They have all crossed this place since I arrived. Some have even passed through this very chamber while we spoke.”

“What?” The sorcerer’s mouth fell open and remained that way until he was able to force his next question to the surface. “Why didn’t you-?” Dru clamped his mouth shut and berated himself. Darkhorse was an innocent in many ways; the manner with which he had dispatched the two avians had made the human forget that. “Forget it. You didn’t tell me because I didn’t ask and you felt it was nothing dangerous, correct?”

“On the contrary! I only recalled when you asked me. For reasons I cannot fathom, my recollection of many things has become faulty. Is this what you termed ‘exhaustion’?”

“Possibly.” The worried spellcaster doubted such was actually the reason. From what he had seen, his companion from beyond did not suffer exhaustion as others did. Once again, the shrouded realm itself was acting against the outsiders.

“Shall we go to this place, then?”

“This-” Dru had forgotten about the location the black horse had mentioned, the one that the sorcerer suspected might house whatever it was the Seekers had wanted so desperately. “You know where it is?”

“Little Dru! I can find it easily! It has an aura of its own, one far different from that which surrounds this place.”

“Does it?” That interested Dru. He started to move again, eager suddenly to be on the trail, but his body protested. “I need to rest a little. I don’t think that I have the strength to go climbing over more wreckage just yet.”

“There is no need for you to do so if it wearies you! Simply climb atop my back and I will carry you to our destination.”

“Your back?” Memories of the two Seekers swallowed whole were enough to make Dru reject such a mad plan without further thought. “That would-”

Darkhorse laughed. “Poor, simple Dru! Of course my backside will be solid! You are too good of an entertainment for me to take you as I did those others! You are my friend!”

Mounting the shadow steed proved a bit difficult for the tired sorcerer, partly because Darkhorse had no bridle or saddle. There were those, like Sharissa, who could ride a horse bareback if the whim was upon them. Dru preferred his comforts. Once he was aboard, however, things changed. Darkhorse was not built exactly like the animal he had so boldly copied. Despite his muscular appearance, the ebony stallion’s back was soft, almost padded. It was, in fact, better than a saddle. Dru wished all horses had been designed like his companion and decided that any he raised from now on would have a few minor magical alterations made.

He found it easy to accept Darkhorse as some fantastic steed. Thinking of him as such was easier than trying to cope with the concept of an intelligent black hole… not that Dru was going to truly forget what the entity was. It was just more comfortable thinking of Darkhorse as a physical being, especially now that he was riding the creature.

The fearsome stallion picked his way through the rubble to the doorway leading out of the ancient structure. Dru worried about some trap laid by the Seekers, but Darkhorse sensed nothing. The spellcaster wished his own senses were so infallible. He was lucky to even sense the aura of raw power that covered most of the city. Dru wondered if at one time a shield of such power had enveloped the entire citadel. The sorcerer who cast it could have literally made for himself a world of his own, for no one would be able to enter-or exit, if that was his desire-without his permission.

Useless conjecture, he reprimanded himself. Best to keep his eyes upon the ruins around him, just in case there was some threat that Darkhorse did not notice in time. What he would do if such happened was beyond him; Dru trusted his own abilities as much as he trusted the Seekers not to attempt one last ploy.

“How odd!” The shadow steed’s booming words bounced again and again throughout the devastated city.

“What is it?” Dru peered around, looking for Seekers or elves or anything to justify his companion’s cry.

“I saw a figure, but only as a vague form! It was built akin to you, but that was all I could tell.”

An elf, perhaps. Yet, what was there about an elf that Darkhorse found so disquieting? “Why do you find that odd?”

“Because I could sense nothing from him. No presence. No… existence.”

“An illusion?”

Darkhorse evidently knew the term now, for he shook his head with great vehemence. “Not an illusion. I think I would sense the… the sorcery… at least.”

“Where was it?” The Vraad cursed whatever fickle trait made him miss everything that happened until it came crashing down on him.

“Directly ahead. It stood on our very path.”

The sorcerer reached down to his belt, wishing he had a sword. While spells had always been a way of life, he, like many Vraad, dabbled in the physical, especially when it involved violence toward another. Dru was adept with many blades and had even killed one rival in a duel using nothing but a sword. “I was looking ahead. I didn’t see anything up there.”

“Beyond the tall structure leaning to one side.”

The “tall structure” was a tower, far in the distance, that had partially fallen onto a smaller building on the other side of the street they were following. The only thing that it now revealed to the sorcerer was that they might have trouble getting around it unless they took a different path. Darkhorse’s vision was evidently much more efficient than his own. The Vraad was not quite desperate enough to start experimenting with his eyes.

A low grumble from his stomach informed him of other matters he would also soon have to deal with if he hoped to continue on. The Seekers had fed him, but only small portions of some vile meat that tasted as if it had been stored in salt and left to age for a few years. All that could be said for it was that it had assuaged his hunger for a time.

Darkhorse continued on the route he had chosen, despite the mysterious appearance. The demon steed was confident in his ability to handle whatever threats confronted them and so was becoming more and more lost in his ongoing game of discovery. A statue that had somehow stood the test of time made him pause for a moment. It was unremarkable save that it was whole. Like the stone behemoth that the sorcerer had come across while a prisoner of the avians, this, too, was a dragon. In fact, it was identical to the other save in size. There were a few other statues and some had recognizable attributes, though they were, for the most part, cluttered together and broken. One was a wolf and another a human garbed in a robe. The rest were too broken up to identify readily, though Dru imagined he saw the gryphon and a cat in the pile.

They eventually reached a point where the Vraad saw that his fears about the fallen tower were true; the opening it left was too small for the sorcerer, much less the huge stallion.

Darkhorse was in the process of locating a new path free of blockage when they came across the elf.

She was young in appearance-though with elves that meant as much as it did with the Vraad-athletic in build, and had straight silver hair that would have reached her waist had she been standing. This elf would stand no more, however, for she was dead, a needle spear that had pierced her chest a certain sign as to who her murderers had been. Dru wondered how long ago she had died; the blood had congealed, but she still appeared too close to life to have perished very long ago.

“What is that?” Darkhorse asked innocently, curious as to this new form.

“An elf.” The sorcerer recalled his one-time desire to capture an elf so that he could dissect it. That desire, that Dru, turned his stomach now. “There have been none in Nimth for thousands and thousands of years.”

“Obviously there are. She is here.”

Dru held back from commenting, having no desire at present to argue about whether this was Nimth or not. He dismounted and looked over the corpse for any clues, any bits of information that would better help him understand his situation. Unfortunately, the elf had nothing with her save her clothing and a tiny knife. The Vraad took the knife gratefully. As tiny as it was, it was still a physical weapon.

At last satisfied that he would find nothing more, Dru mounted up again, saying to Darkhorse, “The things that killed her have a habit of rising from the earth. It would be an excellent idea to keep an eye out… just in case.”

“As you say, little Dru.”

The sorcerer, about to suggest that they move on, shivered as something cold seemed to brush by him. He twisted back, scanning the area around him, but saw nothing. Dru was too experienced to think that he had imagined the sensation. “Darkhorse, was there something near us?”

“One of the concentrations of power passed through us. I think it wanted to know more.”

“It wanted to know?”

“It exists, after a fashion. Much the way you think of me.”

Dru gripped his companion’s mane tight. “It thinks? Why didn’t you say something before? I-”

“I did not know until it actually crossed me. Then I felt its thirst for knowledge-fascinating! Your world never ceases to amaze me! Shall we go forward again?”

“I don’t-” Dru was unable to finish his sentence, for Darkhorse pushed ahead immediately after asking the question, despite whatever opinion his friend might have had. The sorcerer clamped his mouth shut and opened his senses as much as they allowed. Oddly, there was no resistance this time, possibly because he was now attempting to work with the land. In a vague way, the Vraad felt the massive concentrations of power around him and how they moved with purpose, though their patterns might have once appeared random. Dru knew he could not be far from the place that Darkhorse had spoken of. Whether he found anything there…

“You are so very quiet, friend Dru! Are you whole!”

A feeling of unease was gradually creeping over the weary spellcaster. It was as if every bit of rubble had eyes and ears and was following each move the duo made.

“I feel like a blind lamb about to enter the den of a pack of silent, starving wolves.”

Wolves.

Dru gave a start. Darkhorse also tensed. “They are concentrating more and more in one location!”

The Vraad nodded, sensing an overwhelming level of raw power ahead of them. Though other structures still blocked their view, he knew that what he and the ebony stallion sought was very, very near… and it was there that the power concentrated.

Wolves.

There it was again! As if the wind itself had spoken!

“Something happens, friend Dru! Prepare yourself!”

Prepare himself? The sorcerer wanted to know how. His senses warned him that the danger lay everywhere, including above and below him. With his present distrust of his skills, how could he even consider fighting back against…

Against the ruins of the city.

It began with a tremor far worse in intensity than that which had signaled the rise of the underdwellers, the armored monstrosities from below. No, whatever caused the ground to quiver so, if it was not an actual earthquake, was far greater than them.

A building before them exploded, but the fragments, instead of raining down upon the two, flew high into the air above where the edifice had stood. Rubble from the streets flew up after them, joining together and forming great clusters. Nothing was spared; mortar, bits of marble from shattered statues, even vast pieces of the tower they had bypassed… all gathered together.

Beneath the Vraad, Darkhorse shied. There was a limit, evidently, to even his bravery. Had he turned and charged off madly, Dru would have urged him on. As it was, neither of them took up the option of flight. The form slowly taking on vague shape had them almost entranced. It stood taller than the great domed building where the demon steed had rescued his companion. There were four limbs, a tail, which was made at least partially from a column, and, if one stretched the imagination to the limit, a head.

Only when it opened its mockery of a mouth, revealing teeth formed from jagged, broken pieces of stone, did Dru identify it as any particular beast.

It was, as the wind had whispered to him, a wolf… more than forty feet tall.