Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

XII

Night, such as it was, had come to Nimth. With it came the beginning of the end, as far as Gerrod was concerned. He had returned briefly to the Tezerenee stronghold, a vicious-looking iron building that; if Gerrod had been asked his opinion, reflected his clan’s personality perfectly. It was a toothy structure and cold to both the body and the soul. Wyverns and young dragons constantly flew among its dragon-head banners, while the elder beasts slept in their pens. Besides a nasty array of sorcerous defenses, more than a dozen riders generally patrolled the perimeter of the domain.

Not so now. The stronghold was abandoned forever, though it seemed at first glance that the inhabitants had every intention of coming back. Personal effects lay where their owners had last left them. Charts and books gathered dust. Some of the wyverns flew loose through parts of the edifice they would normally have shied away from. Food was left rotting. Even projects, such as those he and Rendel had been working on, were forever abandoned. The Tezerenee could take nothing with them.

It was Rendel’s notes Gerrod wanted. Rendel knew more than he did about the shrouded realm. Not all of it had been shared with his closest brother, though Gerrod doubted they had been as close as he had once supposed. You left me behind with the rest, brother dear. He only hoped that Rendel had also left behind his work. It was quite possible that his elder sibling had destroyed everything so as to keep that much longer whatever advantages he had uncovered in his research.

Fortune was with him. Not only were the notes he sought easy to locate, but they had been so meticulously organized that Gerrod found the proper sections within seconds. Evidently, Rendel was unconcerned about what these notes contained. They verified what he had read in Dru Zeree’s notes and added new information that the outsider had not known… or perhaps purposely ignored, dealing as they did with the region in which Melenea made her home. Gerrod allowed himself a quick, triumphant smile and closed the book. He knew that there were other notes, much more well hidden, but there was no time to search for those. What he had would suffice, anyway.

“So it is you.”

“Mother!” Gerrod turned on her, wondering desperately how she had been able to sneak up on him and also wondering if there were others behind her whom he also could not sense.

“I came back to see our home once more. Silly sentimentalism, isn’t it, my son?” The look on her face was unreadable, suggesting both mockery and truth.

“Some would not see it so,” he responded in neutral tones, hoping she would draw her own conclusions.

“The plan falls apart, Gerrod.”

He had suspected as much, but hearing it from the mouth of one of the few he trusted, the hooded Vraad shivered. “What happens now?”

Her smile held no humor in it, only bitter irony. “It would seem that the golems, not all of them but a great many, have vanished.”

“How many are left, Mother?” The noose he had felt tightening around his neck since his last confrontation with his father began to choke him.

“Barely enough for the clan. To assuage suspicions, Barakas has selected a few outsiders already.”

“And me?”

“For the moment, there is still a place for you. You know that much of the anger your father throws at you should rightfully be directed at Rendel?”

“I know.” Gerrod smiled darkly. Rendel was his mother’s favorite, but he saw no reason to hide his feelings of betrayal.

“You are your father’s sons in the end, Gerrod.”

“Speaking of dear Father-much as I’d like to avoid doing so-you may tell him that Melenea has the Zeree brat. It was not my fault; she must have been the one who instigated the girl’s departure in the first place.” Whether that was true or false, he could not say. What it would do, however, was steer some of the trouble from his shoulders to those of the enchantress. Perhaps even Reegan, Melenea’s toy, would feel some sort of backlash.

“Leave her, Gerrod. There’s no time to get her out. As it is, she probably would have been left behind, regardless.” There was a trace of regret in his mother’s face, but she was hardly willing to risk one of her offspring being left behind. Alcia despised Melenea as much as any being did, but there were higher priorities than the daughter of Dru. “I do not think Barakas will wait too much longer before he decides to finish the cross-over. Some of the outsiders have been raising a fuss. The coming has broken up.”

Gerrod rubbed his chin. “How long left?”

“By dawn, your father wants everyone over. He will be the last to go.”

“How brave.”

She gave him a silent reprimand. “I cannot promise he will hold a place for you even that long.”

“Then damn him, Mother!” He would have thrown the notebook, but recalled in time what vital information it held. “Perhaps I’m better off here!”

Lady Alcia wrapped her cloak about herself. In the flickering light, she looked as if she wore a shroud. “It may be so, my son.”

Gerrod found himself alone. Snarling, he buried the notebook in the deep confines of his own cloak and also departed, leaving the keep of the Tezerenee and possibly his own future to the whims of crippled Nimth.

Where it had still been day in the tiny, hidden world Dru and his companion had discovered, it was now night. With the return to the ruined city, the sorcerer’s weariness and hunger had increased a hundredfold, as if being in that other place had held back time for a space. Dru found concentration impossible, despite the threat before him. This time, the spellcaster knew that there would be no second or even third wind; his body had reached its limitations. He prayed that Darkhorse was still fit, else the two were lost.

The Seekers were late in noticing the newcomers, concentrating as they had on their captive. The elf was the first to become aware of the tall figure astride the demonic steed and it was her inability to hide her shock that alerted the avians to their danger. In the pale light of the one full moon, Dru knew that he and his companion must appear fearsome, but appearances and reality often had little in common. He clutched Darkhorse’s mane tightly to keep from falling and whispered, “You have to deal with them! I… won’t be much use!”

The shadow steed’s laughter rang through the night, bouncing eerily throughout the skeleton of the once-mighty place. “They are hardly a matter of concern! Hold tight!”

“Don’t hurt the elf!” Dru added, suddenly fearful that the Seekers’ captive, possibly someone who might verify what the Vraad had guessed about the worlds within worlds, would perish in the course of the ebony stallion’s rampage.

“Is that what you called an elf? Have no fear! It has not made itself worthy of my caring attention yet!”

Dru shivered. His companion, growing more and more comfortable in his form and role, was also growing more frightening.

The avians scattered, two carrying the prisoner into the sky while she fought them tooth and nail, crying out words that Dru, holding on for dear life, could not understand. One Seeker foolishly held her ground, locating but fumbling with her medallion. Darkhorse ran through her. The sorcerer, pressed against the entity’s backside, caught a brief flash of a horrified visage… and then the female was no more.

“Ha! Let that-” The words never came. Dru heard a swish! and then he was being thrown into the air, his grip broken as easily as the sorcerer might have snapped a twig beneath his boots. He lacked the air to scream and so could only wait in silence for the ground to come up and shatter his body. His thoughts refused to go beyond his imminent destruction. The moons flashed by twice, a glimmering circle and a dim slash, one crimson and the other the pale of death, and their appearances remained fixed in his mind even as he noted that his descent was about to come to a very final finish.

No, said a voice within his head.

The earth was cheated of its prey. Dru felt everything freeze. Though his eyes were open, he could see nothing save the memories of the moons. It occurred to him that no sounds could be heard and he wondered what had become of the Seekers and Darkhorse.

No interference, came another familiar voice.

We are beyond that, added the third, almost eagerly.

We are, agreed the first. They have all come to this place. To not interfere is to allow all else to fail.

Dru could feel endless voices arguing for and against what the first being had said. Though the argument seemed to go on forever, the confused sorcerer knew that only seconds had likely passed when it drew to a conclusion. In the end, the first being’s opinion was upheld, but only barely.

That was the last he knew. The world, all worlds, ceased to be of any import to him.

You are Vraad.

The defiant sorcerer nodded, not knowing where he was or how he had come to this place from the chaos of the ancient city. Dru looked around, but could make out nothing save the chair he sat on and his own body. He felt refreshed, capable of doing combat with the strongest of adversaries, but knew better than to attempt any assault now.

He cannot be Vraad! They are rejected!

It was the second voice again. The tall sorcerer stared defiantly into the darkness and said, “I am Vraad! I am Dru Zeree!”

He has life! the third being mocked. Of the three who acted as speakers, this was the one who repelled Dru the most. It reminded him far too much of Melenea and her games, of how she looked at everything in life as some wicked game.

Games… I like that! We have played such a long, boring game… until now! the third commented playfully.

A cold sweat formed on Dru’s brow. He shielded his thoughts better, though he supposed the effort was little more than futile. In these creatures Dru had found power that dwarfed even that of his companion.

What is the thing? asked the first.

When the sorcerer finally understood the question, he shook his head. Answering the question could do him no more harm than he was already due. “I don’t know for certain. I met Darkhorse in an empty place I call the Void. He seems to come from there.”

There was silence as he felt the beings mull over his words and his thoughts. They did not reprimand him when he spoke out loud and he wondered if they had their limitations as Darkhorse did or whether they merely knew he felt more comfortable hearing his own voice in this place where other noises did not exist.

How did he come to be here? the second voice asked. Of the three, it seemed the most indecisive.

You have seen it, the first reminded. They seemed indifferent to the fact that Dru listened into their conversation.

It was not made to be that way.

It was too long ago. You know that time drains, time turns all away from the purpose.

And we do nothing! Always nothing! the third interjected with disgust. We who have the power to do anything!

Such is not our purpose. The response came from several minds and reminded Dru of nothing so much as a litany repeated from generation to generation.

Our purpose is dead!

Perhaps, shot back the first. Perhaps not. It may be these Vraad who provide what the masters sought.

“What?” Dru blurted out. He cursed himself even as he spoke. The debate had already given him an insight far greater than he could have hoped and now he had brought himself back to their attention.

All of them must be returned to their places with their minds cleansed. This was a new voice.

The first voice, the one who seemed most commanding of the unseen beings, replied, The Sheeka and the Quel cannot be cleansed of their knowledge so easily. Neither can we touch the elves here, who serve as we do, though they do not know why. Would you have us interfere more than we have already?

There is no real choice! the sinister third voice said, cutting off any other response. It is time we took control!

No!

Dru screamed and clutched the sides of his head in vain as he sought release from the multitude of shouting voices vibrating through his mind. He collapsed against the chair he had been seated in.

Are you ill? Have we damaged you? It was the first voice again, concern weighing heavy in its tone.

The concern so startled Dru that he almost forgot his pain. “I’m… well… as well as can be expected.”

We did not wish to cause pain. Despite the being’s words, the Vraad thought he felt one bit of dissension among the ranks at this statement. He did not have to hazard a guess as to which one of his odd captors it was.

“Where am I?” Dru asked, deciding it was time to take control of the situation, if possible.

In one of the many pieces of the world that the masters cut free. It was never used so we thought it best to bring you here.

“And the-I find it hard to talk to nothing! Can you show yourself to me?” He pictured in his mind something akin to the rubble-grown wolf. “Not quite like that, please.”

There was hesitation… underlined by worry, the anxious spellcaster noted. Very well.

Something glittered before him. Slowly, Dru made out two golden orbs and the faint outline of some great beast. The shape looked vaguely familiar, but he could not place where he had seen it.

It is the dragon lord you came across in the old ones’ first city, where they lived when there were many. I took the form because you admired it. I will add scent if you like.

Dru recalled the smell of the Tezerenees’ many wyverns and drakes. “The form will suffice.”

The mock dragon dipped its half-seen head. You wished to know of the others. They sleep.

“Even…”

Even the enigma you call Darkhorse. He is not a creation of the old ones. He is from the rim areas between the Void, as you call it, and the true world. We did not recognize this until now.

“Why have you chosen me?”

The shadowy form moved, spreading wings that were and were not there. You are closest to the masters. The Sheeka-you call them “Seekers”-have not become what they should have. Soon, they will join the Quel in the list of failures. Then there will be nothing left.

Dru wanted to stand, but he was not certain there was actually a floor on which to do so. He squirmed uneasily on the chair. “The Seekers control this world?”

The greatest of the continents.

“You make it sound as if you put them there.”

He could almost see the being shake its head. The masters set such in operation. They made the tiny worlds so that when the turn came, each would open again unto this, the true world. They hoped that one would prove a successor to their own kind.

The creature had informed him of everything in a simple, unattached manner, which was why its words did not penetrate immediately. Dru sat still as the impact of what his captor had said burrowed its way into his mind.

You understand correctly. The places from which the Sheeka, the Quel, and even you originated are slices of this world.

“Nimth… Nimth isn’t… isn’t real?” Not possible! the sorcerer wanted to shout. The birthplace of the Vraad a falsehood? A… zoo?

He could sense the sadness around him, a sadness that deepened his own horror at what he had come to realize. The mighty Vraad race had risen to supremacy of a cage, another race’s toy!

Not so, the ghostly dragon emphasized. Not a cage. More of a birthing place for the masters’ successors. They were old; their race was tired. The masters wanted to leave behind a legacy, so they took from their own and worked to make them better. Then they set them in worlds of their own and let each grow. See it as it was.

The dragon sank completely into the darkness and was replaced by a tiny image that expanded gradually, filling more and more of Dru’s vision until he actually felt he was standing in another place, in another time. In some ways, it was like communicating with the Seekers, save that what Dru saw was not forced upon him. He could accept it or not.

He had no intention of refusing such an opportunity.

There were beings he could call human and many he would not have guessed could ever have been. The ancient race had chosen every conceivable variation they could think of, some of which even Dru, who had witnessed much over his gray life, found so revolting he was astonished that they even lived.

Many attempts did not. There were scores of empty little worlds, worlds created by slicing reality itself. Each had once housed a hope, but those hopes had died for one reason or another, sometimes in great wars that destroyed everything. More than a few were judged failures even if the race within survived; the elders had searched for certain traits among their children. Eventually, most of those failures destroyed themselves, only one had not… so far.

Dru knew without asking that Nimth was the one failure that had, up until now, not succeeded in destroying itself completely. The time was nearing, however.

“What about those that succeeded?”

There were those that matured to the second stage, the mock dragon responded. Images of various civilizations passed before Dru. He recognized only two. The Seekers and their enemy, the armadillolike beings called the Quel.

“But you said…

They have failed. The Quel hang on, but nothing more. They will never rise to greatness again. The Seekers have begun their own descent. Their arrogance and communal thinking make them unwilling to face ultimate change. As for the elves… they will survive and aid us, but they lack the drive to become what they are capable of becoming. Because of that, they are lost to the plan as well.

“And we have also failed you.”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. With time…

With time, they, too, will fade, the one who chilled Dru’s spirit whispered.

Their death knell has begun already, added the fourth voice.

Dru shook his head, trying to clear away the confusing echoes within.

Not so! the mock dragon overwhelmed his counterparts. There is still time.

We have interfered enough, the fourth countered, but uncertainly now.

Give me leave to do what must be done…

The sorcerer found himself in the midst of darkness again as the entities evidently discussed something not for his ears.

So many questions continued to clamor for answers, but Dru doubted he would ever learn everything. Still…

His musings were forgotten as the world returned.

The sun was in the sky, a brilliant, burning orb that the mage had never thought to see again.

The Seekers who came here have been taken care of. You will think of them no longer. It was the first voice, but there was no sign of the dragon form.

It will not be needed for this short time. You will listen, Dru Zeree of the Vraad. A wind picked up as the being spoke. I have removed the one called Darkhorse from this place and returned it to its own domain. It should have never come here. It does not belong.

“He did nothing to harm you!”

A strong gust blew a cloud of dirt into Dru’s face, blinding him and causing him to choke for a few seconds.

It… he… has not been harmed. We have merely placed him where he should be. His presence was only one more catalyst for chaos in something we have been commanded to preserve.

“You interfere quite easily for something that isn’t supposed to interfere!” the Vraad snapped. Darkhorse had aided him, had saved him several times. To be so carelessly removed was unfair to the ebony creature.

I leave you the elf, Vraad. That is all I can do for you. That your kind have breached their boundaries is a matter of importance. I must study what can be done to return things to what they were. If the Vraad are to succeed, they must follow the path set by the old ones.

Dru could not resist one more barb before his benefactor departed. “Things as they were? Complete collapse of your masters’ hopes is all that remains if you steer things back that way. We’re entering this world at this very moment. It’s too late to turn things back!”

A mocking laugh made the embittered sorcerer start. He knew it was not the laugh of the servant he had been speaking to. He knew which of the entities now enjoyed his discomfort.

It will be easier than you think!

He was alone in his mind again. Around him, the wind died abruptly, a sign that the guardians had abandoned him.

A moan behind him reminded Dru that he had been promised someone who could guide him.

“You… you are not an elf or one of those monsters, are you?”

The Vraad turned to his new companion. “Obviously not, as you can see.”

She was slighter than the dead female he had seen earlier, but identical in appearance otherwise. Her hair was bound back. Her eyes scoured his form, at last resting on his visage. Dru doubted that it was because she found him attractive.

“You are Vraad.”

He looked at her with renewed interest. “How did you know that?”

The elf rose, doubling the distance between them as she did. Loathing coated her words. “We thought we had left you behind forever! Now all of our work is for nothing! There’s nowhere left to hide! No hope of turning this insane sorcerer’s experiment in our favor!”

A knife materialized from her left hand. She had moved so quickly, Dru would have almost sworn it was magic.

“I will still get the satisfaction of killing you, though!”