Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

XX

The disconcerting image of one land imposed upon another was possibly the most refreshing vision that Dru had experienced in some time. The shrouded realm was a victim of paradox; its presence was one of the few stable things that the sorcerer could still recall. Where everything else was suffering chaotic change in one manner or another, the region where he had made his accidental pilgrimage to the Void and beyond was nearly the same as it had been at that time.

“This is… beautiful.” Xiri brushed a hand through several blades of ghostly grass. “Like seeing the spirit of the forest and the field.”

“But not enough.” The realm beyond the veil was too vague an image, too much like so many others he had investigated early on. Even from where he stood, he could see that the rift area was only a vague shadow of its once-mighty self. He could not say whether the spectral land would fade to nothing or strengthen until it was more real than the piece of Nimth it was displacing. Whichever, it was evident that for at least the time being, they would find no accessible path to the founders’ world. Perhaps later, but not now.

Dru imagined several thousand vengeful faces and shuddered at what sort of reward Vraad imagination would create for him if his promises proved as transparent as the woods in the distance.

“I do not see him.”

He did not have to ask who it was she meant. Rendel would have known after a few moments that there was no escape using this place. Dru had not expected to find him here, though he had scanned the region with care, just in case. The Tezerenee was none of his concern, however. Rendel had chosen to go his own way.

The sorcerer shifted, anxious to be gone from here. He had fulfilled his duties to the other Vraad; it now was necessary, not just for his own sake but theirs as well, that he return to his domicile. That his concern presently centered more on Sharissa than the fate of his race did not disturb him.

He sent his mind out, seeking the link.

Sirvak?

Xiri watched, both interested and anxious. He had explained earlier about Sirvak and how the familiar, like Cabal, protected the pearl edifice from outsiders.

Dru frowned. Sirvak rarely took so long to respond. The link between them was strong… or had been until now. Concentrating harder, he discovered only the barest thread keeping his mind in tune with the creature. Sirvak’s end was a complete mystery. There was a fuzziness, as if the familiar was not quite there. Dru grew more uneasy. He called to the familiar again, this time pressing to the limits of his will.

After another long, nerve-twisting silence, a distant, tentative voice filled his head. Masterrr?

He knew that Xiri was aware of his success by the look of relief she flashed at him. Likely the same expression was plastered over his own. Sirvak! What happened to you? Why didn’t you respond? Is Sharissa all right?

Masterrr. There are troublesss! You must come here!

“What about Sharissa?” Dru realized he had shouted, so frustrated had he become in the few seconds since contacting his creation. Why was Sirvak acting so upset? Why would the familiar not answer a question concerning Sharissa? I’m coming! You will wait for me by the entrance to my work chamber!

Masterrr, no! Danger! Let Sirvak guide you in! Will explain when you are safe!

Very well! Just do it! Dru broke the link, confused and very angry. He reached out to his right and took Xiri’s hand. “My familiar will teleport us into my home. It seems quite agitated.”

“Something to do with your daughter?”

“It must be. Sirvak wouldn’t say a thing concerning her, but kept speaking of trouble. I-”

Nimth was no more. Dru suffered a brief period of total chaos where he floated in a dark limbo. He had lost his grip on Xiri, somehow and realized that he had never brought her up to Sirvak. Had the familiar left her outside?

His feet touched the cold, hard surface of one of the castle’s floors.

“Sirvak? Xiri?” His eyes refused to focus. “Sirvak? What kind of spell was that? What happened? Xiri?”

After a moment, a delicate hand touched his. “Hush, Dru. I’m right here.”

He blinked, slowly making out vague shapes. The shapes tightened until they were actual forms… walls, doorways, torches, and, to his left, his elfin companion.

“How are you feeling?” she asked in concern. Her eyes were bright, as if she had actually enjoyed the transfer.

“Better than I did when I first arrived. Didn’t you feel the disorientation? A sensation of being held in place for a moment or two?”

“A little. Perhaps it didn’t affect me as much since I’m an elf.” Xiri said the last with a touch of amusement in her voice.

Dru was unable to see the humor. He turned around and looked for the gold and black form of his winged familiar. Sirvak was nowhere in sight.

Sirvak?

Masterrr?

Where are you? Dru let his rising anger wash over the disobedient creature.

I come. The great reluctance with which the familiar responded caught the spellcaster by surprise. He would have questioned Sirvak then, but Xiri chose that moment to desire his attention.

“What is that in there, Dru?” She had drawn closer to him, nearly clinging to his arm. To his surprise, he felt uneasy rather than pleased with her nearness. Stirring himself, he followed her finger, which pointed at the doorway to his work chamber.

“That’s our destination. That’s where the key to crossing the ghost lands into the realm beyond waits. It should-” He broke off and stretched a hand out toward the unimpressive-looking doorway. “It’s open!”

“Of course it is.”

“That’s not what I mean! Sirvak!”

There was no response from the familiar. With a new fear stirring in the pit of his stomach, Dru raced through the unprotected entrance. He had improved on the magical barricade surrounding this, one of the most important of his chambers, and left it active prior to his last departure from the castle. By rights, only he and Sharissa could have entered and neither of them would have removed the spell, even with all the other defenses implanted throughout Dru’s domicile. Did this have anything to do with the dangers that Sirvak had mentioned in his ravings? Where was the familiar? Where was Sharissa, the only other person who had access?

When Dru saw the crumpled figure buried beneath the long cloak, he thought his worst fears had finally caught up to him. Then the sorcerer stared more closely and saw that it was a male body sprawled before them.

Rendel.

From the awkward angle that his body lay in, it was quite impossible that the Tezerenee had survived. Dru stepped closer, cautious because he still did not know what had killed the other Vraad. He also wanted to know how Rendel had gained entrance in the first place.

He touched the body. It was still warm, which was not too surprising since Rendel had only departed the communal city a short time before Dru and Xiri had. The dead Vraad’s expression was that of puzzlement, as if even then he could not believe that something had, in absolute fashion, ensured that he would not return to the shrouded realm. He felt no remorse for the arrogant Tezerenee. As intelligent as Rendel had been, his ego had made him blind to common sense. He could not see the abrupt end his ways would bring him. Nothing had been beyond him, as far as Rendel was concerned.

Dru wondered what it was that the Tezerenee had desired so much that he would grow so careless. If it did lie in the realm beyond the veil, then someone else would someday claim it. Dru hoped he would not be around when that happened. Anything that so obsessed a Tezerenee could only be a danger to all others.

Stepping back from the corpse, he saw the cracked blue crystal, no more than the size of a nut, that lay nestled in the crook of Rendel’s arm. Dru forgot about the body at his feet.

“Serkadion Manee!” He had slim hope that he was wrong, but a simple turn of the head was enough to show him the worst.

His experiment, the spiral patterns and the orbiting crystals, the work that was to have given him the answers he needed, was in disarray. A few stones still circled, but in mad curves that no longer had meaning. Several had fallen to the floor. The spiral patterns still existed, but they had deteriorated beyond repair. Rendel had destroyed not only the culmination of his research but the patterns that had been needed to find the nearest opening.

The master mage frowned. Viewing things, he saw it was not so much Rendel who had destroyed the artifact but rather the artifact that had killed the Tezerenee. But how? As he had created it, the experiment should have been harmless. This one had unleashed enough magic to make an end of the intruder.

“Sirvak!” Dru shouted, more out of anger than because he thought that it would have any more success in summoning the familiar than the mind link had.

“Masterrr.”

The gold and black beast was a pitiful sight as it fluttered into the room. It gave Xiri a wide berth, glancing at her with pain-wracked eyes as it passed, and settled down on a table nearby. Dru studied the animal, taken aback by its disheveled appearance. Its fur and feathers were matted heavily with dirt and blood and it was even missing most of one of its forelegs. The spellcaster’s anger deflated as he imagined the cause of the beast’s injuries.

Sirvak stretched its ravaged wings, the effort visibly painful. “Masterrr.”

Xiri moved to join Dru, taking his arm and watching the familiar from his side. Sirvak hissed in her direction, but shrank into itself when the sorcerer gave it a withering look. A slight smile spread across the elf’s face.

“What happened here, Sirvak?” he finally asked. “Where is Sharissa? How did Rendel get in here and what killed him? Tell me.”

The familiar opened its toothy beak and squawked in frustration. It could not take its eyes from Xiri, though it was evident that Sirvak could not abide her being here. Dru knew that not trusting outsiders was part of the creature’s training, but it should have been able to make the distinction between those like Melenea and one who was so obviously the master’s companion.

“I’m still waiting.”

“Answer your master, familiar,” the elf urged, still wearing the smile.

“The Mistressss Sharissa, masterrr. It was by her doing that this one”-it indicated Rendel-“gained entrance here.”

“What killed him? Was it my experiment?”

Sirvak’s eyes were narrow slits that followed each movement Xiri made. “Yes-sss. It was the experiment.”

Dru had been afraid of that. He had no doubt that the trap had been set for him, which meant that Melenea had been here at least once before. Had Sharissa let her inside? He recalled his own commands to the familiar, the ones that had made it virtually impossible for the winged creature to tell his daughter anything about Dru’s time with the enchantress. Once again, the fault was his. Sirvak had only done the best it could under the circumstances.

“Where is Sharissa?”

“Sirvak does not know.”

“Not know?” He quieted as the injured creature shut its eyes in shame. “I’m sorry, Sirvak. When was the last time you saw her?”

The familiar opened its brilliant eyes wide. “Mistress was with Tezerenee! Hood-faced one. Like this one.”

Dru gave Rendel’s body a glimpse and asked, “Gerrod? Do you mean she’s with Gerrod?”

“Gerrod, yesss.”

“This Gerrod is like his brother?” Xiri asked.

“Like Rendel, yes, but I didn’t think he was quite so bad.” He studied Sirvak’s wounds. The familiar had fought wyverns before, but none had caused such damage. A larger beast, like Cabal, would have been more of a threat. Something did not sit right. “You’ve no idea what happened to them.”

“No, masterrr.” Sirvak was upset with itself. It kept staring at its lord’s companion with loathing. Dru stroked the creature’s head, trying to soothe it.

“It’s been terribly damaged,” the elf said, looking over the ruined limb and the scars. “Perhaps it might be better if you destroyed it and made a new one.”

Dru said nothing, but rather stared into Sirvak’s eyes. When the gold and black animal closed its eyes again, its body shivering, he leaned close to it and, in a quiet, companionable tone, asked, “Sirvak, will you do something for me?”

“Master?” It looked at him, weariness and pain giving its voice an unsteady pitch.

“I want you to go outside and search. Find Sharissa.”

“Masterrr-”

“Do as I say.”

Sirvak hesitated. It eyed the elf, then Dru again. Something changed in its manner. It spread its wings and shifted. “I will obey.”

“You always know what I want, Sirvak. I trust you do now.”

The familiar dipped its head. “Sirvak will not fail you.”

Both Dru and Xiri stepped back as the once-magnificent creature flapped its wings and rose with awkward movements into the air.

“Are you certain it can handle this task? It looks nearly dead.”

“Things are not always what they appear,” was his reply. “Sirvak will do what it must, regardless of the handicaps it now suffers.”

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Again, her arm was around his. “What do we do with him?”

She spoke of Rendel. Dru did not bother with the still shape. “The castle will take care of his remains. It, like Sirvak, owes its ultimate loyalty to me.”

The downward corners of her mouth revealed her uncertainty concerning the phrasing of his response, but the elf did not say anything more, allowing Dru to bring her along as he suddenly started for the doorway.

“Have I raised any doubts in your mind?” he asked when they were out in the hallway.

“What?” She stumbled as she blurted out the question.

“Have I raised any doubts? Do you still want to remain with a Vraad? One of the unholy race?”

“You’re not so evil.” Xiri caressed his cheek.

Dru watched the hall ahead of them. “No, there are far worse.”

“Melenea.”

“And Barakas, for one, though he’s been rather tame. I wonder if he has his empire yet or if the Seekers have left his bones to the scavengers. Have you ever seen one of their cities? What is it like?”

They moved through one hallway to another. Ahead of them, Dru knew, lay the theater where Sharissa had created and manipulated her fanciful dancers.

The woman at his side shrugged. “I’d rather not say too much. I didn’t care for them.”

“Ugly places of iron and stone sprouting out of the earth like sores, if I remember what you said before.”

She smiled, not wanting the subject to go on any further. “You see why I don’t like to talk about them. Horrible places.”

“Yes.”

“Where are we going, Dru?”

He sighed and squeezed her hand. “I want to show you another side of me. I want to show you the theater I built for my daughter… and my bride.”

“Is it much farther?” She let the comment about Dru’s mate pass, but he could see that it had touched her in some way.

“Not far. As a matter of fact, here it is already!” The theater had actually been farther away, but he had decided to risk using sorcery and have the castle realign itself. The sooner this was over, the better.

Dru had desired the chamber to appear to them in its simplest form… a soft dirt floor and blank curved walls. In some respects, it resembled a miniature version of the room of worlds minus the images covering the walls and ceiling.

“Is there more to it?”

“Much more.” He waved his free hand and a marble floor of alternating black and white squares formed. “I can’t say why we need a separate chamber to do what could be done anywhere, but Sharissa and I have preferred it this way.”

He gestured to the left and the right. A slight tremor shook the room, but his spell still worked. Several figures, some human, some creatures of varying sorts, stood in what appeared to be random placement on the squares.

“Do your people have chess?” He briefly outlined the game.

She nodded, but her eyes were not on him. Rather, the figures themselves fascinated her more. “We have it, but not like this.” Xiri started to walk toward one of the closest pieces on the giant board, a wide, armored figure holding a scepter and sporting a sadistic smile. “These playing pieces… is there something-”

Dru blinked and the board was now normal size. It rested on a glass table that was accompanied by two soft couches, one for each player.

“Why did you do that?” Xiri snapped. She immediately remembered herself and gave him an apologetic smile.

“You wouldn’t like what you saw there. Shall we play a game?”

“A game? Now? When we still have to find Sharissa?”

Joining her, he reached out to run one of his hands in her long hair. “I thought you liked games.”

Her face was stone. “You know!”

He tightened his grip on her hair. “You forget, Melenea, as much as you claim to understand me, I also understand you.”

She laughed. Her form changed without warning and Dru found his hand holding nothing more than illusion. With daring quickness, Melenea took hold of him and kissed him long and hard. Dru finally succeeded in prying her away, his face deepening to a color akin to her hair.

“No, Melenea, not again. I won’t be a part of your world. That’s behind me.”

“If you say so, sweet. Was it that question about those Seekers that told you? I wondered about that when you asked, though I thought you were suspicious before you mentioned them.”

“They only verified that you weren’t Xiri. You played a poor game. Tiny things that you knew that she couldn’t. Rendel and Gerrod being brothers. The worst move yet, you couldn’t even control your own personality. I gave you every chance. Sirvak wanted to tell me that it was under your sway. I guessed as much once I knew that you had gained entrance to the castle earlier, but Sirvak was unable to point you out as an imposter.” Dru turned from her, nearly daring Melenea to do something, and walked over to the chess set. He fingered one of the pieces, the one that she had tried to study up close. “I sent it away knowing you, wherever you were, wouldn’t stop me. Sirvak has suffered too much already and I know you’re to blame.”

“You know, Dru darling, you were always long-winded.” She ran her hands along the contour of her clothing. “There is so much more we could be doing.” Her hands stretched out toward him. “So many games to play.” Melenea blew him a kiss.

A force like a maddened stallion struck Dru, throwing him over the table and spilling the chess set.

Dru rose and smiled. Melenea took a step back.

“Yes, I know that was supposed to be more than an ill wind. The difference between us, Melenea, is that I can talk while I cast protective spells. You merely talk.” He picked up one of the chess pieces that had fallen to the floor. “I’ll ask this only once. Do you have Sharissa?”

“Of course!” She folded her arms and looked at him in triumph. He would do nothing to her if it meant Sharissa’s life.

Dru shook his head. “That was the wrong answer. I said I know you as well as you know me. If you had my daughter, you’d be more eloquent about it. You’d give me some of the fine points of what you’d planned for her.”

Masterrr!

Yes, Sirvak?

Sirvak is yours again! She is Melenea! Beware!

I know that, my friend.

She took Mistress Sharissa to her home! Master Gerrod helped Sirvak to free her, though she fought us, but Sirvak could not get away! Mistress did, though!

Both pleasure and cold hatred colored the spellcaster’s next words. Thank you, Sirvak. Thank you for telling me all of that.

Sirvak is forgiven? The beast feared that it would be punished for allowing itself to be taken over by the enchantress.

Of course. One more thing. Where is the one who came with me? The el-the female.

She wanders at the edge of home, seeking entrance. Masterrrr, her sorcery is strange.

Let her pass through, Sirvak. Guide her to me. I want her safe.

As you command, masterrr. The winged creature broke the link, its task clear to it.

He favored Melenea with a pleasant smile, satisfied to watch her react the way he had the day on the steps in the Vraad city. His silent conversation with the familiar had lasted all of a breath, perhaps two, at most. “You have nothing left to tempt me with, nothing left to threaten me with. Can you give me one reason why I should tolerate your presence here any longer, Melenea?”

His change had daunted her, but he knew that she was far from beaten. Melenea always had one more ploy, one more move.

She did not disappoint him. “Perhaps these?”

In her hand she held two gleaming crystals.

“Where did you get those?”

The enchantress had regained the upper hand and knew it. Dru had not expected to see the crystals he sought. They had, he supposed, been destroyed when Rendel had sprung her trap. “Dear Shari gave them to me, just before the trusting child left me by my lonesome. That was when I left my surprise and also made certain I could reenter your citadel… of course, that little mongrel creation of yours helped to a point. I should have known it would be unreliable in the end, however.”

“Sirvak is very reliable. Your mistake was not realizing how independent its mind is… not like your other self, Cabal.”

She allowed the crystals to balance precariously on the tips of her fingers. “Whatever. Well, darling? Have I met with your expectations? Do you want these little baubles? Should I let them fall?”

Her hand twitched and both stones tottered. At the last moment, she curled her fingers inward, restoring balance.

“You know, Dru, the trap was never meant for you. I was certain that faceless whelp, Gerrod, would gain entrance somehow, as tenacious as he is. I thought it would be a delicious trick on him. He’s very much like you, you know. Were you ever intimate with the glorious Lady Alcia? It would certainly explain the differences between Gerrod and Reegan.”

Dru did not dignify her with a response.

She tilted her head to one side. “No denial? No agreement? No thought at all?”

“Give me those crystals, Melenea.” He kept his voice neutral. She would not play him like an emotional puppet.

“Certainly. Here.” Melenea turned her hand palm down.

Reflex betrayed him. Hoping he did not have to fight Nimth as well as the enchantress, Dru snared the crystals with a minor spell. The action lowered his guard. It was a minuscule opening, to be sure, but the sorceress knew him as few others did. When she struck, it was more subtle, more emotional. Where an attack on his body would have likely been repulsed with little effort and most of those against the mind turned with even less, her spell touched on the least-defended part of Dru Zeree.

His memories.

“Cordalene!” he whispered. Her name had been Cordalene. Though his conscious mind had forgotten his bride’s name, the subconscious could not. She had been, to his surprise, so very interested in the same things. What had begun as a casual joining no different from any other had become a drawn affair and then a sealing of bonds. Permanent mates were a scarce commodity among the Vraad, though there had been a few now and then. She was tall, slender, and with deep blue hair that tumbled to the ground, though dust never tarnished its beauty. They were both as other Vraad, still arrogant, still vindictive. Dru had beaten off two challenges by those interested in Cordalene. She had turned them down, but typically, neither had believed she meant what she said.

Cordalene stood before him, waiting for Dru to embrace her. He tried.

She collapsed into dust. Caught in the throes of the spell, he had summoned up a likeness of her, much the way Sharissa had called up the dancers.

Somewhere, Melenea was laughing at his stumbling, laughing at his futile attempt to recapture a cherished memory. Rage burned through the struggling sorcerer and his vision briefly cleared, revealing the mocking form of the enchantress. He tried to reach her.

Dru became lost in a second memory. Sharissa as an infant. The shock of discovering that their continued care for one another now extended toward the child. Most Vraad left the care of their offspring in the hands of their magical servants, golems and such. It might be that was why the hatred between young and old developed.

Sharissa cried and Dru took the infant in his arms. She dissipated into air. Another creation of the theater that his mind vaguely recalled existed in Nimth.

“This is so perfect!” Melenea purred from beyond his vision. “A wonderful place to end the game! I thought I would only be able to enjoy the torment on your face, but now I can watch you lose everything all over again!”

His hands almost found her throat. She backed quickly away, and before he could try again, the day of the duel confronted him.

“Serkadion Manee! No, please don’t!” He could not stop it. Cordalene met with some nameless female counterpart, a Vraad who was also dead, the loser in another duel only three days after this one.

The combat itself was a swift blur; Dru had not been there to witness it. Despite his struggles, the inevitable conclusion confronted him. What remained of Cordalene was a curled ball unrecognizable as anything human. She had been turned in on herself. Dru remembered how he had secluded himself and Sharissa for months before he went seeking out his wife’s killer. His need for vengeance was left unsated.

Then he had turned to Melenea.

“Melenea,” he muttered.

She had brought back the memories and made him suffer them anew. The fog, the images-both those in his mind and the ones he had created with his sorcery-were swept away until only one figure remained. One that did not realize its mortality.

“Melenea…” His eyes impaled her.

The enchantress finally realized that her victim was no longer trapped in his delusions, but it was too late. There was no longer any means of escape. With his first coherent thought, Dru had sealed this room for the time.

“Melenea,” he began for the third time. “You twisted me during a time when I was empty. You never knew me before Cordalene. You never really thought of how much of a Vraad I truly am, no matter how I might deny it now.”

Her smile had died. Dru felt her mind tug at forces of Nimth, trying to create a path of freedom.

“You should have never made me relive all of that so realistically. You’ve reminded me of the danger you’ll always be to Sharissa.” He shook his head in true sadness, wishing she had not released the Vraad within him. “I can’t allow that.”

Unable to escape, she struck with another spell. It was less stylish, but very deadly.

Dru deflected it easily, the cold anger that Melenea herself had created fueling his will. He understood, however, that delay would eventually take its toll on him. This had to be finished before that happened.

She struck again and again, her spells taking on all forms and intensities that would have long destroyed any other foe who did not know her so well. When she had exhausted herself to a certain point, he took her and left her without the ability to move or even breathe. She would not die; the spell prevented that. He only wanted her to know exactly how helpless she would be.

“You like games, Melenea? I do, but more subtle, more ingenious ones. Chess, for example. I have just the place for you, a place where you can join some of my past adversaries, some of those who threatened what was mine and discovered that I am not so peaceful when it comes to defending my home.”

He retrieved the chess piece again, tossing it to her as she stood frozen. At the last moment, he released her. Through sheer luck, the enchantress caught the object. She looked at it, not understanding, and then gazed once more at Dru, still defiant. She had always been able to play her way out of any circumstance. There had always been some weakness she had been able to exploit.

“Not this time,” Dru whispered to her. He indicated the piece she held. “You thought you recognized the other. How about this one?”

An arrogant smile playing on her lips, Melenea held it up and stared at the tiny, detailed visage. Her eyes widened and the smile became a circle as she gasped. The chessman fell from her hand and bounced on the floor.

“You do recognize him? Some of them I allow to have the same form, though others often get a shape more representative of their personalities. They’ll live on long after I’m gone, always pawns where they were once players, much like yourself.”

“Dru… you…” She was no longer desirable. Melenea had become a frightened creature.

He felt Sirvak’s nearing presence. Xiri was with the familiar. Sirvak tried to make contact with him, but Dru refused. Not until he had finished.

“I should think this would thrill you, Melenea, my sweet. Haven’t you always insisted that life is a game?”

Xiri could not be allowed to see him like this. Dru gestured quickly and the chess set re-formed on the glass table, the pieces all lined up in their starting positions. For the first time, it became obvious that the game was lacking one more figure. Dru smiled at that. He had not known he had been so close to completing the set.

Only a moment more. That was all he needed. A moment more of complete control of his powers. He faced Melenea, lover and nemesis, and pointed at the empty square.

“Your choice,” he said slowly, drawing out her agony as she had drawn out his moments before. “What would you like to be?”

When Sirvak and Xiri joined him, he had just finished admiring the board and was now putting it away. The chess set was one of the few things he had decided to bring with him to the other world. It would serve better than anything else to remind him of what he was leaving behind.

“Dru!” The elf held him tight, her body shaking. He stood frozen for the first few seconds, then clutched her with equal need.

“Do elves take on permanent mates?” he whispered after he had kissed the top of her head.

“They do.” She pulled his head down so that he could kiss something other than her hair. When at last they broke, she looked around. “Sirvak spoke of danger, of this Melenea! What happened to her? Did you-?”

“I’ve introduced her to a new game. It will keep her attention for quite a long time.” He carefully ignored her questioning expression and looked up at Sirvak, who eyed him with an understanding that no other, not even Xiri and Sharissa, could ever match.

“Masterrrr,” the familiar finally dared. “The mistressss is nearrr. Master Gerrod is with herrr.”

Master Gerrod?

Low, rolling thunder shook the walls of the pearl edifice.

“The storm is finally breaking.” Deadly news for the Vraad race. They would have to risk the storm if they wanted to leave here. Still holding Xiri, Dru opened his hand and studied the crystals he had retrieved from the floor. They were, he knew, useless now. Melenea had apparently drained them of their contents. She was beyond asking questions and so whatever knowledge his former lover had possessed was now beyond them. Rendel might have aided them, what with his vast knowledge of the two realms, but his haste had made an end of him, unless…

He separated himself from Xiri. “Sirvak! Show me where Sharissa and Gerrod are.”

An image of the two on the outskirts of his domain flashed before him. Still caught up in the aftermath of his fury, it would have been a minor task to bring them to him. Yet, knowing how much worse he and Melenea had probably made the situation already, he turned to Xiri.

“Guide me.” The urge to demand more from Nimth was hard to suppress. “I want to bring them here.”

His emotion and her care brought swift results. Gerrod, openmouthed, stared at the sorcerer and his companions. His eyes were shrouded by his hood, but it was very likely that they were almost as wide as his mouth. As for Sharissa, she took one moment to drink in her surroundings, focused on her father, and then ran to him, enveloping him in her arms.

“Father! I thought that you were dead! Melenea! Did you know that she-”

He covered her mouth with one hand. “Hush, Sharissa. We’ll have time later. I’m sorry, but right now I need to speak to your friend.”

“Me?” Gerrod’s mouth, the only part of his face clear enough to judge, twisted in a guilty curve, though Dru had not accused him of anything and had never even intended on doing so. He made a mental note to ask the Tezerenee what there was to feel guilty for, but after they had dealt with the present crisis.

“You, Gerrod.” He walked over to the motionless figure and put a companionable arm around the younger Vraad’s shoulder. “We have to talk about things… like your brother, the shrouded realm, and why you are still here. Most important, we have to talk about getting out of here.”

“Out of here? You mean-”

“Yes, I think you have information, or know where to get it, that I… that all of us are in need of.” Dru paused and turned back to the others. “Sharissa. Xiri. Forgive my brusqueness. I think you can both understand. Talk to each other. I want you to know each other as much as possible.”

The two women eyed each other in open curiosity.

“Sirvak!”

“Master?”

“Your wounds. Are they-”

“I will take care of them, Dru,” Xiri volunteered. She looked at Sharissa. “With your help, if that is all right.”

“Of course.”

Dru gave Xiri a nod of approval. She was already working to make her relationship with his daughter a pleasant one. “Good. When you are healed, Sirvak, I have a task for you.” He reached into a hidden pocket and removed something. “Here!”

The familiar sat back on its hind legs and caught the object with its remaining forepaw. It peered at the tiny figurine.

“What is it?” Sharissa leaned closer. Her face screwed up into a look of absolute disgust. “It looks like Cabal! Too much, in fact!”

Xiri had also studied it. Her eyes flickered to Dru, who saw that the elf observed more than surface details. “A work of art. It almost looks alive.”

“Part of my chess set. The piece that was missing. I want Sirvak to gather the pieces together. I intend on taking it with me.”

“But you never play with it!” Sharissa protested.

“It has memories I want to keep,” he commented, already turning back to Gerrod. “Now, Tezerenee. We have to speak about your brother.”

Their eyes on Dru’s retreating figure, neither Sharissa nor the elf noted the pleased look in Sirvak’s inhuman visage as the familiar dropped the tiny chess piece to the floor and watched it bounce until it lay among the rest.