Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

III

Sharissa had not wanted to confront the Tezerenee, especially Barakas and Reegan. It was, she knew, impossible not to confront one or another member of the dragon clan. During the past five years they had become especially noticeable in this part of the city. The anger that many Vraad felt for them had faded with time and the knowledge that the Tezerenee had proven invaluable over and over almost since the beginning of the colony. The clan now held greater influence with their race than they ever had back in Nimth, although she doubted that the patriarch saw it that way. Though he had always pushed for physical prowess, the dwindling of their sorcery to near nothing meant that their lack of numbers would now hurt them in battle. Still, more than a few of those outside the clan now looked to Barakas for leadership. Emboldened, the Tezerenee were once more walking among their fellows, daring their rivals to do something.

So far, things were still in balance. Silesti still held the majority of the folk in his hand, and her father influenced both sides to work with one another and ignore gibes and covert glances. It was Dru Zeree more than anyone else who kept the triumvirate successful. Left to their own devices, Silesti and Barakas would have begun the final war among the Vraad the same day the refugees had arrived in this world.

Barakas hoped to swing the balance to his side, and one method involved Sharissa’s marriage to Reegan.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she muttered. Sharissa did not particularly hate Reegan, and his words had touched the romantic part of her, but he was not what she sought. She was uncertain what it was she did seek, but it could never be this younger, more coarse version of the patriarch himself. Reegan would become his father in all save cunning. The heir was a creature of strength and skill, but not knowledge. He needed Lochivan to guide him in subtle matters.

Lochivan. Sharissa wondered if the Lord Tezerenee knew that his other son was one of her closest friends. Never a lover, but more like the brother she did not have.

As she walked, her eyes absently marked the progress that had been made of late. The western and eastern portions of the city, which was actually more of a giant citadel, were almost completely rebuilt. Most of the ancient buildings had been found to be too untrustworthy and had been torn down as needs arose. Thanks partly to the powers of the few who had the necessary aptitude for sorcery here and the physical work of the many who did not, there were now several towers and flat-roofed buildings. They were a bit too utilitarian for her tastes, but she hoped that would change. Most of the structures were empty, optimistic thoughts of a growth trend in the Vraad population making the people continue working after they had re-created enough of a home for the present inhabitants. It was a good way to keep them busy, too. That was one thing all members of the triumvirate had agreed on from the first.

There were a few traces of Vraad taste that she did see. Some of the arches were a bit more extravagant than they should have been, even to the point of being decorated with fanciful creatures. A wolf’s head over one doorway gave her pause, reminding her too much of memories of Nimth. She knew, however, that the carving was actually a symbol designating they who lived there as among Silesti’s favorites. Unconsciously following in the footsteps of his enemy, the third member of the triumvirate had chosen to make the wolf one of the marks by which his authority was known.

Something stepped out of a shadowy alley, startling her. She kept from losing face by stifling the gasp before any of it escaped her lips.

A smooth, featureless visage stared back at her. She, like Barakas, referred to them as the Faceless Ones, but most Vraad called them the not-people, likely because they did not want to have to accept them as anything remotely akin to their own kind. There were traits the beings had that touched too close to those of her kind.

The Faceless One confronted her for only a moment. With an impatient movement, it shifted around her and kept going. Sharissa followed its departure until it was out of sight, then exhaled the breath she had forgotten to release in the shock of the encounter.

A stray yet disturbing thought edged its way to the forefront-had the Faceless One seemed nervous? Generally, they did not go darting around those they ran across, but either changed direction completely or circled around their victim with a slow, almost casual pace. They did not go scurrying along as this one had. It was almost as if something else were occupying the creature’s thoughts.

What could so demand the attention of one of the beings that it would lose the reserve that its kind had become noted for over the years?

Then Sharissa felt the first stirrings of another presence-one so powerful and so different that it might as well have been purposely announcing its coming. Perhaps it was; she could not say for certain. All she knew so far was that this was no Vraad… save perhaps Gerrod, who was capable of many extraordinary changes.

A pall of silence wrapped itself over the area, as if others were sensing the same as she. Reaching out, she touched upon the strength of this world. Of the few who had adapted almost completely to their new home’s ways, some now claimed they saw a spectrum when they sought the power. Others claimed that their vision was that of a field of crisscrossing lines going on into infinity, lines of force. Sharissa knew that neither group lied; she was the only one, evidently, who saw both, depending on the whims of her subconscious. It was the most probable reason why she had become, without exception, the most adept of the Vraad. Even her father, who had learned from both his bride and the Faceless Ones, could not match her. What did confuse Sharissa was that Ariela, who had been conceived and raised on the other continent, also could not match her adopted daughter. The elf claimed to know of no one among her people who touched upon the powers with the ease that the young Zeree did.

There were times when Sharissa felt proud of her unique position… and times when it became a heavy burden and a threat. Among the Vraad were those like Barakas who saw her as a tool or were merely jealous of her abilities. Everyone tried to manipulate her, but she had learned to handle most of them. In the final days of Nimth, one of her father’s former lovers, an enchantress named Melenea, had used Sharissa’s innocence in a ploy that had almost meant the death of both Zerees and Gerrod Tezerenee. It had meant the death of her father’s familiar, Sharissa’s childhood companion. Sirvak had died defending his master and mistress from Melenea’s horrible pet, Cabal. That incident had steeled Sharissa’s heart. No one would ever use her again, not if it endangered those she cared for.

The presence was growing stronger, as if whoever it was raced toward the city… from the west, she now saw. The nearer to the city it came, the more astonishing its power was… and the more inhuman it seemed to be. No Vraad could possibly claim such ability, such otherness.

Father, she recalled with a start. I have to tell Father! It might be that he knew already, but one could never tell. Sharissa reached out to him with her mind, trying to establish a link. Linking minds was more chancy than it had once been, possibly because few now had the ability to maintain it long. In the case of her father and her, the trouble was compounded by the fact that Dru Zeree was not quite in this world, but in a compact dimension where the founders had built their last citadel before they had chosen to give their souls to the land. While those within could observe or contact the outside, breaking through the barrier from the true world was something only their blank-visaged avatars could do with any consistency, or so she thought. There were only theories as to how they communicated among themselves.

Father? She held her breath for a time, awaiting his response. When the familiar touch of the elder Zeree’s mind failed to manifest itself, Sharissa tried again. All the while, she felt the ever-closing presence of the outsider, the… creature. It made her wonder how the Tezerenee could have failed to notice such a being; Barakas might be a shadow of his former self, but he was still one to be reckoned with. How could he have failed to sense the coming intruder?

There was, as yet, no answer from her father. If he had noted her summons at all, he would have contacted Sharissa by now. That meant the only recourse was to go to him herself. Her expedition all but forgotten, she turned and headed in the general direction of the city square. It was there, in a bit of the city that by Dru’s own command had been left untouched, where she would find the tiny, hidden rift that was the entrance to the pocket universe of the founders, the place where her parents now spent most of their time. The path would be open to her, she hoped. There had been occasions when Sharissa had been forced to wait until her father departed his private domain in order to talk to him.

A few Vraad, making their own way to whatever projects held their attention, stepped aside as she rushed past them without so much as a glance. Whether they felt anything, she neither knew nor cared. If anyone else was disturbed by the newcomer, then they could follow her or come on their own.

One body did not move aside for her, and she almost ran directly into it. Sharissa would have collided with the other figure, save that a pair of strong hands caught her and held her still.

“What is it? Something must be amiss for you to go running blindly into folk!”

“Lochivan! I can’t talk! I have to find my father!”

The Tezerenee released her. “Then I will walk with you. You can tell me why you’re so upset that you have not teleported instead of wasting so much time walking.”

Sharissa colored. She stepped past Lochivan and resumed her journey. The Tezerenee fell in beside her, easily matching the pace. He had grown up on quick marches.

“I thought it would be best not to attempt such a spell,” she finally replied. Sharissa had never told anyone, not even Dru, why she so rarely employed such timesaving spells. Teleportation had been a dangerous, foolhardy thing in the last days of the old world, and it had nearly cost her father his life. The younger Zeree knew she was being ridiculous, but she had never gotten over her fear that one day a teleport spell would send her into some place from which she would never return. It was impossible to explain the feeling to anyone who could no longer perform the spell. They would have hardly felt sympathy for her plight.

“Why? What is it?” Lochivan asked, his brow furrowed. He was uneasy about something, perhaps several somethings. Sharissa wondered if he felt the oncoming stranger’s presence.

“Something… someone… of a different… I can’t explain it, but don’t you feel the approach of a presence in the west?”

“Is that what that is?” He glanced in the direction of the gate through which he and the others had entered earlier. “But anything that close… we should have seen it during our ride…”

“That’s what I thought, too.” A suspicion formed. “Did you, Lochivan? You are probably one of only two of your folk that I might expect a true, unmasked answer from. Did you see anything? Sense anything?”

“Nothing!” The vehemence with which he answered revealed his deepening worry. “There’s nothing west but forest and plains… and the seas, of course. Dragon’s blood! Seekers?”

He had come to the same conclusion she had. The magical guardians of the city, the founders’ ancient servants, had been her only other choice. Formless save when they chose to dress themselves in the very earth and rock, as the one the Tezerenee called the Dragon of the Depths had, the guardians felt of this world, this ancient place. Not so the newcomer. There was only the slightest trace of this world on the intruder, as if it had briefly been a part of this place but had, as Sharissa noted again, come from somewhere beyond. Since Nimth was closed off, that left only the other continent and its masters. It had to be the Seekers, yet were they not part of this world, too?

Lochivan paused and removed one of his gauntlets. “Sword and shield! What a time for this!”

Despite the urgency of the situation, she paused. Her companion’s presence was comforting, which soothed her enough to keep her thoughts from running too amok. It would be worth the time to wait for him, providing it was only for a few seconds. Besides, the frustration in his voice made her curious as to his difficulties. “What’s wrong?”

He reached in between his dragonhelm and his armor and started scratching with such a fury she thought he would draw blood. “A damn rash! Nothing deadly, but it’s spread around the clan quite a bit! The skin gets dry and stays that way! Sometimes it itches so badly that I’m forced to stop everything and scratch until… until it becomes tolerable again.”

Lochivan pulled his hand away and replaced the gauntlet. He sighed. “As it finally has, thank the dragon. It’s over. Get moving!”

A bit surprised that a warrior like Lochivan would succumb to a rash during a moment of crisis, Sharissa nonetheless said nothing to him and did her best to keep from revealing any of her thoughts. She would have to mention this plague of irritation to her father when there was time. It might only be a rash now, but who was to say what it might become in the future?

They had barely progressed more than a dozen steps before the sorceress nearly came to a halt herself.

Something was in the square they were trying to reach. Something that was the same presence she had noted outside only a few minutes ago! Now it was inside and ahead of them! Yet, it had just been outside-

“Serkadion Manee!” she uttered, stunned. The name of the ancient Vraad scholar was a favorite oath of her father, and she had picked it up over the years.

Lochivan did not have to ask what was wrong. As she turned and looked at him she could see that the Tezerenee felt what she did… Who could not? Sharissa scanned those Vraad standing or walking nearby. They were all pausing in their present interests and twisting about to stare in the direction of the square. A silence had fallen upon everyone in sight. One or two had enough presence of mind to make note of the duo moving toward the source of the disruption. To the young Zeree, they looked almost frightened. In their hearts, many Vraad feared that, now mostly bereft of their fabulous abilities, they would become easy prey for some outside threat.

That might very well be the truth, Sharissa realized.

“I have to teleport,” she announced, her words more to steel herself for the task at hand than to alert Lochivan.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Hold on to my arm, then.”

He did, holding her a bit tighter than he likely thought. The clan of the dragon, meaning the patriarch, frowned on any show of fear, regardless of the reasons. There were times when she felt pity for the sort of life that Gerrod and Lochivan had endured.

Grimacing, Sharissa transported them to the square.

Her first thought was that it had grown as dark as night even though there were still a few hours of sun left. Then she noted, with much chagrin, that her eyes were squeezed shut.

“Gods! Look at him, Sharissa! Have you ever seen something as grand and startling as that?”

She opened her eyes with care. There were other people around already and all of them were just as entranced by the great beast in the square.

“A horse!” she whispered. A glorious ebony steed! She had always loved her father’s horses, magnificent mounts that he had bred without any use of magic-almost as a challenge to himself. Yet, no horse she had seen could measure up to this creature…

It was this steed that her senses had noticed. It was this animal that emanated the unbelievable power that so disturbed the minds of nearly every Vraad, whatever their sorcerous abilities.

“Where is he? I will not be denied him! I will not again be thrust back into the cursed nothingness I was forced to endure for so long! Where is my friend, Dru Zeree?”

Sharissa knew then what and who this was. He was called Darkhorse and he had, for a time, aided and traveled with her father after the sorcerer had been lost in the ghost lands where Nimth and Barakas’s Dragonrealm had intertwined like two cursed lovers, together yet unable to touch one another. The guardians, in obedience to the millennia-old instructions of their lost masters, had seen the shadow steed as an aberration that could not be allowed to exist here.

In deference to Dru, they had not destroyed him, but rather exiled him… supposedly forever.

They had underestimated the creature.

People shuffled nervously around the square, uncertain as to what the ebony stallion might do. Many of them had abandoned something or another. A few folk were even half-dressed. Even though most of them had not heard of Dark-horse, they recognized sorcery of a kind that was in some ways even greater than what they themselves had once wielded.

“You look like Dru Zeree!” the thundering voice accused the crowd. He pondered this for a moment, then asked, “You are Vraad?” An icy, blue eye focused on one unnerved person after another, finally fixing on the only Vraad there who did not turn away: Sharissa. “Where is my friend?”

“Sharissa!” Lochivan hissed, grabbing hold of her from the side.

She blinked, realizing she had been about to fall forward and wondering what it was about Darkhorse that brought on such a reaction. She had almost thought she was going to fall into him… but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Yet the sensation had been strong, even demanding, until Lochivan had stepped in to rescue her.

The demonic stallion tossed his head, such an animallike action that it destroyed some of the uncertainty Sharissa felt. She took a deep breath and stepped up.

“I am Sharissa Zeree, Dru’s daughter.I-”

“Aahh! Little Sharissa!” Darkhorse bellowed with pleasure. His change of manner was so abrupt that Sharissa forgot herself and stood there with her mouth open.

Darkhorse trotted toward her. “Friend Dru spoke of you during our travels! How delightful to see you! How wonderful to find you after an eternity of cursed searching for this place!”

“Careful, Sharissa!” Lochivan whispered. He had one hand on his sword, though she was uncertain as to what he imagined he could do with it. From what little the sorceress knew and what little she had seen, it would take more than a blade to stop this creature.

“Careful, indeed!” Darkhorse snorted in response. His hearing was remarkable. “I would not harm the appendage of my friend Dru!”

“Appendage?” Sharissa was not certain she had heard right.

“Shoot? You were part of him and are now separate, yes? What is that called for your kind?”

“Offspring. Child. Only I was not part of him, but actually the…” She trailed off, thinking how long it might take to explain the process of birth to an entity that did not understand the concept in even the most remote terms.

Several of the onlookers had turned to her, not because of her inability to explain something to Darkhorse, but because she was on speaking terms with the invader. Relief was spreading among them, however. The great sorceress was once more dealing with their problem. This incident would only add to her prestige, a good thing since it was already assumed that she would take her father’s place on the triumvirate should something happen to him.

Darkhorse surveyed his surroundings. “You have altered much in the shape of this place, albeit not where I stand! I feared I might have come to the wrong place, but then I recalled this one area and opened a quicker path to it! There have been so many worlds, so many universes I have searched through!”

He had made no comment concerning the protective spells that the Vraad had enshrouded their city with over time, spells that would have given her pause but did not, it appeared, even deserve acknowledgment on his part.

The intruder sighed, a very human sound that he must have learned from his former companion. Sharissa sensed the longing and the weariness. “Fifteen years is a long time, I imagine,” she said, trying to soothe him. “It can be an eternity.”

He gave her a strange look. “Through your father I have some understanding of the term years, little Shari! Know that when I say I have spent an eternity searching for this place, I am not being facetious or exaggerating! In your fifteen years, I have crossed a thousand thousand lands in as many worlds! Time, I have discovered, does not move the same everywhere and moves not at all in the cursed place friend Dru so aptly called the Void!” Darkhorse twisted his head so that he stared at the heavens. “The sky is more cluttered than the Void could ever be, even if this place were thrown into it! How could I have ever survived such an existence before Dru came?”

The question was not one he expected an answer for. Sharissa waited until the huge creature had calmed before saying, “My father will be happy to see you again. I can take you to him if you want.”

“Little one, that is exactly what I was attempting! Last I knew, friend Dru was in danger and I had been thrust back into a place I hoped never to see-or perhaps not see is closer, I cannot say-again! I thought he might be in the room of worlds in the castle of the old ones, but I could not find the opening to that small universe! I feared those beings who guarded it when last I was here had sealed it, but there is no trace of them… and I could hardly forget the smell of those cursed horrors!”

Lochivan joined Sharissa and leaned close. “Should you not do something about all these people? They look like little children asked to solve a complex thaumaturgical question that has baffled masters! Assure them that all is well.”

She saw the sense of that. Raising her arms, the sorceress called out. “There is no need to worry! There’s no danger, no threat! This one is a friend of my father, and I will vouch for his actions!”

It was a pathetic speech as far as Sharissa was concerned, for it went nowhere toward answering the many questions that must be flowing through the minds of the Vraad who had assembled here. She added, “You will hear more from my father when he has had time to speak with our guest. I promise you that.”

That was still not satisfactory in her mind, but the others seemed willing to live with what she had told them, understanding, perhaps, that they were lucky to know what little they did. The other two members of the triumvirate would be more vocal. Sharissa glanced at Lochivan; Barakas would know soon enough. Whatever friendship she shared with this Tezerenee, he was loyal to his father.

“You’d best go, too. I don’t think I am in any danger, not from everything my father told me about Darkhorse.”

“I should say not!” bellowed the beast.

Looking very, very uncomfortable, Lochivan bowed to both of them. To the young Zeree, he said, “Best I be the one to tell my father. I’m truly sorry, Sharissa, but he should know about this.” He stopped, his words sounding as pathetic to him, no doubt, as Sharissa’s had to her. “Be prepared for him. Dark-horse changes the balance if he stays around. You and I both know that.”

The Tezerenee turned and joined the many others who were slowly splintering away from the crowd. Sharissa mulled over his warning even as she smiled at the darksome steed. If he chose to stay for any length of time, he would change the balance. Those whose loyalty teetered even a little would flock to the support of her father. Darkhorse was a potent ally. If the members of the triumvirate ever came to blows with one another, the demonic stallion might easily prove the deciding factor. Dru Zeree had no ambitions other than keeping his people together, but the same could not be said of Barakas and Silesti. The latter was one of those who had more than one legitimate reason for despising the patriarch of the Tezerenee. Several years of working side by side had not lessened the tension between them.

Darkhorse was scuffing the rubble-strewn soil with the impatience of one who is at last within striking distance of his goal after an epic odyssey but cannot find the front gate. Sharissa quickly joined him. “It’s this way. The Faceless Ones moved it.”

“Faceless Ones?”

“‘Not-people’?” she added, wondering if he knew them by that title.

“I know not these others. Are they Vraad, also?”

“No, they’re-” The young Zeree broke off. Better to show him one than try to describe the living legacies of the founders. She scanned the square, looking for the inevitable form watching them. Her eyes narrowed as her search progressed. Darkhorse waited in silence, his chilling gaze following hers.

The area was devoid of the featureless beings. Sharissa, thinking back, could not recall seeing one since her encounter in the alley. That particular creature had rushed off, as if unsettled. None of its fellows had been among the crowd that had gathered at the coming of Darkhorse. That alone made her nervous. Why would the Faceless Ones, who studied most everything else around the Vraad, avoid the startling return of the Void dweller?

Was there something they feared about Darkhorse? Vengeance? Surely not! The guardians had dealt with the ebony stallion as they might have a tiny insect. Their masters, even though only reflections of what they once had been, were not without their skills.

“Well? What is it you want to show me? Come! I wish to see little Dru again!”

“Let me show you the way, then.” Still at a loss concerning the absence of the not-people, Sharissa led the shadow steed to an area to his right. Several Vraad still looked on. It did not matter if they saw where the entrance to her parents’ home was. Only those the sorcerer desired to allow in would be able to cross the rift. She had no idea if Darkhorse would be allowed to make the journey unimpeded or whether she would have to find her father first. They would discover that in a moment.

A ripple in the air was her first sighting of the hole. As she neared it, Dark-horse close behind, it seemed to widen for her. Within its boundaries, the sorceress could make out a huge wooded meadow. Flowers dotted the field, sentinels in a sea of high grass.

Sharissa put one foot into the tear in reality, then stepped through. The square, the entire city, had vanished. She turned around and saw the rip. A huge, jet-black form filled its dimensions.

“At last!” Darkhorse trotted through the magical entrance-way unimpeded. “At last I am here!”

She could not help smiling. “Not yet, but soon. We still have a short distance to go.”

His disturbing eyes followed the lay of the land. He laughed. “Only this? After the journey I have suffered, this is scarcely more than a single step!”

“Then let’s take that step.” Sharissa could hardly wait to see the look on her father’s face when he saw the surprise she was bringing.

From the edge of the square, Lochivan observed the departure of Sharissa and the monster. He had hoped that it would be unable to cross, but that hope was shattered a second later when it vanished behind Zeree’s daughter. Yet another piece of news that would interest the patriarch.

Abandoning his watchpost for where he had left his mount, the Tezerenee pondered the significance of the demon’s arrival. Though he was not one to whom prescience had been gifted, Lochivan knew that this was a moment of destiny in the lives of the Vraad. The creature called Darkhorse altered everything, and he knew that the Lord Tezerenee would work to make the future one to his liking.

Lochivan wished there were someone else who could relay the tale to his father. There was not, however, and he was, after all, his sire’s son. Even if it might someday mean the death of Sharissa’s father, his duty was ever to the clan.

The last thought disturbed him most, but, as with so many in the past, he merely buried it in a secret place in his mind and hurried to perform his duties as a good son always did.