Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

VIII

“You see, demon? I keep my promises. You’ve done what I’ve asked and I’ve woken her. I hardly need to have done that, you know.”

Sharissa’s soul swam in a sea of emptiness. The voices were all she had to latch on to, and they had, until now, seemed so very, very far away. Now, however, she found herself moving toward them with ease.

“I see that you like to give freely what is not yours to give, what actually belongs to the one you claim to give it to! That is what I see!”

They were familiar voices and, though she did not care for one of them, they promised light where she could only recall darkness.

“Do not bestir yourself, demon. The bonds that hold you have not weakened in the slightest. I would rather have your willing cooperation than this need for pain.”

Closer. Sharissa knew she had almost found the light.

One of the voices shrieked in unbridled agony. Her flight slowed as she sought some way to give solace to the one in pain. There was nothing Sharissa could do, however. She knew she would have to wait until she was back in the light.

The shriek died down into silence. Then, just as she feared she would become lost again, the first voice spoke. Its tone was smooth and, despite the sympathetic words, mocking. “You force me to do things I would rather not do, demon. You are the one causing yourself pain.”

“Darkhorse?” Sharissa could not yet see, could not even sense her very body, but memory, at least, was returning. At the moment, it seemed the most precious thing she possessed.

“That should be enough to satisfy you. Now, back where you belong.”

“The Void swallow you, Lord Bara-”

“Darkhorse?” Sharissa struggled to open her eyes. Memories of the attack returned. She had been a fool. Something in the spell of the lamp had alerted the Tezerenee to the fact that she had freed herself a second time. It was a simple spell, one well within the ability of many Vraad, and she had not thought of it.

Why the lamp, though? Why cloud her perceptions if they planned to take her?

“Are you feeling ill at all?” Barakas Tezerenee asked from the darkness.

A dim crack of light sliced its way through the endless black void. As the sorceress struggled, it grew into a band of murky shapes and movements. “Darkhorse, where-”

“Shh! Take it slow, Lady Sharissa. You’ve been asleep for over three days. That deep a slumber turns the body numb. It takes time for the blood to regain momentum.”

“Barakas.” She turned the name into a curse. “What have you done to Dark-horse? To me?” Sharissa regained a vague sense of her body. She tried to move her hands, but was unable to tell if there were any positive results.

“You will come to understand, my lady. Before long, you will even stand in the forefront of our destiny.”

“The Faceless Ones take your speechmaking!” she shouted, putting all her renewed energy into her response. To her dismay, she almost found herself sinking back into the darkness because of her anger.

“I warned you to take it slow. You’ll likely have a rampaging headache because of your tirade.”

Sharissa tried to draw upon the lifeforce of the world, only to find a wall within herself that would not permit even the least of spells. It was a mental block, as if each time she sought to do something, her concentration slipped just enough to make her attempt fail.

Something wrapping around her throat…

“What did you do to me, Barakas?”

His form-it could only be his form-grew larger, nearly filling her limited field of vision. He could be no more than a yard away, yet the patriarch would still not come into focus. “Merely something to keep you from reacting without thought. This is something that should be talked out after you’ve had an opportunity to see what we’ve accomplished, what we intend.”

“My father won’t stand for this, Barakas! Neither will Silesti! Between the two of them, they have the numbers to overwhelm your pathetic little army.”

Her body was nearly her own again, though, at the moment, that seemed no great victory. Every muscle screamed agony, not surprising since she had not moved in three days. With an effort, the sorceress reached for her throat.

“It won’t come off unless I wish it.”

“You expect me to follow you in anything when you treat me like this? What have you done to Darkhorse? I thought I heard-”

“He will recover. He left me no choice. Perhaps you will be able to convince him of the correct way of things once you’ve had a chance to taste our harvest.”

The huge armored figure was slowly coalescing into something with distinct features. Sharissa, struggling, was able to raise herself enough so that she could rest on her elbows. It allowed her to focus her gaze better on the patriarch’s own crystalline eyes. “You are waxing poetic, Lord Tezerenee, but all the pretty words and familiar speech won’t convince me of anything other than the fact that you are not to be trusted.” She gritted her teeth, knowing how her next words would probably affect him. “You, patriarch, have no concept of honor whatsoever. I’d rather believe that the smile of a drake has nothing to do with its hunger than believe one promise of yours.”

The back of his hand caught her squarely on the right side of her face. Sharissa rolled onto her side, panting and bleeding, but also satisfied with the reaction. She was also thankful the patriarch had not been wearing his gauntlets.

Turning back to her “host,” she displayed the marks of his anger. “As I said, no concept of honor.”

Barakas was gazing at his hand, as if it had betrayed him. He looked up, studied her damaged face, and frowned.

“My deepest apologies, Lady Zeree. I have not slept since you forced yourself upon us. I will have someone take care of your injury and, at the same time, bring you something to eat. Tomorrow, after we have both rested, I will show you my world.” With no more farewell than that, the patriarch turned quickly and stalked toward a doorway that was only now visible to the recovering sorceress.

“Barakas! If you think I plan on merely waiting here…” Sharissa rose, her legs unsteady, and took a step after the dragonlord, who was already in the outer corridor.

One hand on the door, Barakas took one last look at the young Zeree… and slammed the thick wooden door shut. Sharissa heard the sound of a key turning in a lock and swore under her breath. “Barakas!”

She put a tentative hand on the door and pushed. It would not give. Sharissa had known it would not, but had felt compelled to try anyway.

“Damn you, Tezerenee!” Her legs began to buckle. Utilizing what strength she had left to her, the sorceress stumbled back over to the simple bed that was, she now saw, the only piece of furniture in the chamber aside from a single chair in one corner. Her legs gave out just as she crawled onto the bed.

Sharissa rolled onto her back and scanned her surroundings. A narrow slit near the ceiling allowed only minimal sunlight in. One torch provided the rest of the illumination, not that the gray, spartan chamber offered any visual attractions.

Three days! Where was her father? Where were the other Vraad? Barakas had at last broken the tenuous peace that had existed since the creation of the triumvirate. Was there an army even now surrounding the eastern sector of the Vraad city? If so, why could she not hear anything?

Memories of the impassioned voice of the dark eternal returned to her. Barakas Tezerenee had forced him to aid the clan’s cause. In what way? Her heart beat faster. Had Darkhorse turned the others away? Was her father dead? Did Barakas rule now?

Her questions, her very thoughts, began to fragment as the beating of her heart was echoed in her head. Sharissa put a hand to her temple and tried in vain to ease the pounding. Nothing helped. The sorceress did not even have power enough to rid herself of the headache. For that, too, she cursed the Lord Barakas Tezerenee.

When sleep at last claimed her again, she welcomed it with open arms.

“Sharissa?”

It was a female voice that tore her from the bliss of true, unforced slumber, and at first she thought it was someone else. “Mother?”

“No, Sharissa, only Lady Alcia.”

Her eyes snapped open. The striking warrior queen sat beside her, a bowl of food in one hand. Behind the matriarch stood two female Tezerenee in full battle readiness. Whether they were daughters of the lady or merely clan sisters, Sharissa neither knew nor cared. Only one woman truly held importance in the clan of the dragon, and that was the patriarch’s bride. “He fears to face me again?”

Alcia smiled, a surprisingly soft expression for so commanding a visage. “He still sleeps. I thought it would be better if I spent some time with you first and tried to answer some of your questions.”

“Good! Where is my father? Where is this place? What do you think-”

Her visitor held up a warning hand. “Not yet. I will answer questions, but only after you have eaten, young one. And do not try to ask me questions while you eat, either. You will get nothing more from me until this bowl is empty. Do you understand?”

Mention of food and the relentless smell rising from the bowl forced Sharissa into surrender. She gratefully took the bowl and spoon from the Lady Tezerenee and started in on the contents. It was a stew of some sort, filled with meat and vegetables and seasoned to perfection.

Watching her eat, Lady Alcia looked almost like a doting mother. “I am so very glad you enjoy it. I made it myself, but I’ve rarely had someone from outside who could tell me if I’ve succeeded with it. Tezerenee make terrible critics. They will eat anything, even if only to prove they could live off moss, if necessary.”

The last brought a brief smile from Sharissa. She often forgot that the ruling mistress of the clan had been born an outsider and that much of the blood of the clan could be traced to her. “It is good. Thank you.”

“Not at all. Please keep eating. You will find it will strengthen you.”

It was true. Though this was not enough to satiate her, Sharissa at least felt well enough to move. Her headache had also receded, though enough of it remained to remind her of what she had experienced earlier.

“How long did I sleep this time?” she dared to ask after swallowing her latest mouthful.

“Only a few hours. It was just after dawn when you were disturbed the first time. The sun is now directly overhead. No more questions until you finish. I mean that.”

The remaining contents of the bowl vanished in quick fashion. Though she had gulped much of it down in order to ask some of the many questions that burned within her, Sharissa could not help feeling disappointed, too. She wanted more-at least another bowl.

“That is all.” Alcia took the bowl and spoon from her and put it aside. “You have to ease your hunger gradually, or else you are liable to make yourself sick. You can eat in a little while, after your stomach has settled again.”

Now that the time had come, Sharissa’s anger rekindled itself. She recalled again the patriarch’s temper and the voice of Darkhorse. The voice and the pain. “Where’s Darkhorse?”

“He’s been put away for now.” Lady Alcia’s tone reminded Sharissa of Lochivan’s friendly manner of speech. The young sorceress was suddenly reminded of the fact that, while it was true the woman before her had been born an outsider, she had spent countless centuries as the bride of the dragonlord and the mother of most of his arrogant children. Sharissa could no more trust her visitor than she could Lochivan.

“What does that mean?”

Rising, the Lady Tezerenee took hold of Sharissa’s arm and guided her up. Rest and food were already working their wonders. The sorceress found she could walk with only the slightest difficulty. Something else in the food besides meat and vegetables, she decided.

Sharissa had not forgotten her question. She repeated it the moment she was certain her legs would not collapse.

The matriarch sighed. “That is something Barakas or Lochivan could explain better-”

“Lochivan!” Sharissa spat on the floor. “If he comes within sight of me-”

“He lives to serve his father,” Alcia said, taking her charge by the shoulders and massaging some of the muscles. “Would you do any different?”

“My father is a good man!”

“By your standards. Tezerenee have different standards. Most Vraad have different standards. You look fit enough for a walk, I think.” As she said the last, the Lady Tezerenee snapped her fingers. One of her shadows stepped to the door and opened it. The other moved until she stood behind her mistress and the outsider. Sharissa was reminded of lithe hunting wyverns as she observed their movements. These were women born to the clan, not adopted like many newer Tezerenee. Barakas had allowed newcomers to swell his ranks over the last decade and a half, but evidently still reserved the most vital roles for those of his blood. Guarding his mate was likely a position open only to the most skilled.

“What about my questions? You said you’d answer them.”

“Some of them will answer themselves when we get outside. At the very least, showing you what my husband has achieved will aid any explanation. You should get some walking in, too. Judging by your back, I would have to say that every muscle in your body needs to be loosened. Come along.”

With Lady Alcia guiding her, Sharissa made her way to the corridor. Each step seemed easier than the last. “You seem to have a magical touch when it comes to cooking, my lady.”

Her regal companion smiled politely. “It is a wonder what one can do with the proper ingredients and skills.”

They spoke no more for quite some time, Sharissa, knowing she would receive no useful answers from her host, being satisfied with inspecting the domicile of the clan. She found the endless gray corridors and windowless chambers disturbing, their appearance more reminiscent of the unsightly citadel the Tezerenee had abandoned back in Nimth. Yet, these had to be some of the deeper levels in the eastern sector, didn’t they? Where else could Barakas bring her? Had he spent the last fifteen years so greatly redesigning his tiny domain into a miniature version of the one he had lost? It seemed a futile and outrageous project even for the patriarch.

More and more she felt as if she were back in mad Nimth. The dragon banner hung on every wall. Armored warriors, male and female, stood guard everywhere. A drake patrol, the two beasts straining at their leashes, passed them just before they reached a staircase leading downward. Sharissa lost all interest in the toothy hunters as she paused to stare at the steps. The sorceress had come to assume that she was in some lower level, possibly beneath the surface, but this staircase spiraled down at what first appeared to be forever.

“We have five levels to descend to the surface. Is that too much for you? Do you feel weak?” Alcia put a hand on her shoulder, but Sharissa was not taken in by the concern. If the matriarch had thought it would serve her people’s interests, she would have been just as willing to push her down the steps.

“I can make it.” There was no attempt to hide the edge in her voice. It was best to remind the Tezerenee that she did not consider herself the guest they wanted her to believe she was.

“Do not let your defiance make you foolish. You could hardly plot any escapes if you collapsed on the staircase and fell to your death, could you?”

Sharissa looked up at the Lady Tezerenee, but the latter’s visage was unreadable. Unfortunate as it was, Sharissa saw much in what Lady Alcia had said. While the food had aided greatly in restoring her strength, her control over her body was still a bit tenuous. Who was to say that she might not miss a step?

“Perhaps it would be best if you held my arm.”

“Of course.”

As they started down, Sharissa’s legs quivering a bit, the sorceress remembered the collar around her throat. Very odd that I could forget this, she decided. Subtle magic? If she grew complacent about the collar, it might not be long before she did find herself listening to the words of Barakas. More than ever, Sharissa knew she had to struggle to keep her concentration on her predicament. She could not be sidetracked by anything that did not directly deal with the situation.

Tezerenee sentries saluted smartly as her royal guide passed them. After a moment, it occurred to her that they were also saluting her, as if she were a visiting dignitary and not a prisoner.

“This honor isn’t necessary.” She made no attempt to hide the sarcasm.

“You are the daughter of Dru Zeree and a capable sorceress in your own right. Your status is high among our folk. It may be that, before long, your status will be even higher.”

“If you mean will I marry Reegan and add my power to your people, you’ve-”

“Here we are,” Alcia interrupted, acting as if she had not even noted her charge’s retort. They had reached the bottom of the staircase.

To each side, massive corridors extended into eternity. Turning around, Sharissa saw yet another corridor, this one even greater than the others.

The great hall, she decided. The Tezerenee would reveal it to her before long; Barakas loved to hold court. Considering the high marble columns and the polished stone floors that made up what was basically a walkway, she suspected the great hall itself would be more sumptuous than past Tezerenee courts.

Where is this place? Nothing in the eastern sector matched this place. There were places more splendid, but they were in the styles favored by the founders, not the more deliberate tastes of the dragon men.

“Sharissa?” Lady Alcia stood with one arm extended toward two huge, iron doors, each with the symbol of the clan worked into the very metal. Only two guards stood at the doors, but they were possibly the largest Tezerenee she had ever seen other than the patriarch and his heir. If they were not Alcia’s sons, then they were the products of the Lord Tezerenee’s occasional outside liaison. Love his bride he might, but Barakas saw part of his duty as clan leader to include the relentless task of increasing their numbers in whatever way necessary.

Thinking of the differences between Gerrod and Reegan, the young Zeree wondered if the Lady Alcia had secretly formed a few liaisons of her own. They might be Tezerenee, but they were also Vraad.

She rejoined her guide. As they and their bodyguards approached the doors, the two sentries opened the way for them, visibly straining as they pulled the doors open.

Sunlight flooded into the corridor, blinding an unsuspecting Sharissa. She gasped and put her hands over her eyes. Her companion took hold of her.

“I’m so sorry! I should have realized that your eyes would be sensitive after three days of darkness or dim light. You had no trouble with the torchlight in the halls and on the stairs, so I merely assumed-”

“I’ll be fine.” The sorceress removed herself from the matriarch’s grip. “I can see well enough already to continue.” She blinked in rapid succession. A myriad pattern of spots made it impossible to focus on anything, but she could make out general shapes enough to walk without stumbling. “Lead on.”

“Very well.”

A cool breeze, very welcome after the stifling air of her cell, caressed her cheeks. The air smelled of life unspoiled by human intrusion. It smelled… different.

Even before her eyesight had cleared, she knew she was no longer in the city.

The Tezerenee led her out into the world. Like a blind person newly granted sight, the sorceress tried to see everything. The tall, menacing tower of the citadel, the utilitarian buildings that flanked it on each side and held, she knew, the riding drakes. A massive protective wall that surrounded the patriarch’s private domain. Sentries walked the wall, each warrior ready for the worst. Airdrakes carried patrols over the walls. Following the route of one such patrol, her eyes were suddenly attracted by a chain of mountains in the distance. They were unfamiliar to her, yet she felt she should know them.

In what could only have been three days, the Tezerenee had evidently built themselves a stronghold. It was as ugly in its own way as their own, with their typical jagged towers and harsh lines. The clear blue sky, the light breeze, and the birds singing in the distance seemed, when forced to endure along-side the citadel, mere parodies of their once-glorious selves. Nothing remained beautiful around the Tezerenee.

Sharissa turned on the Lady Tezerenee. Her bodyguards readied their blades, but the warrior queen waved the two back. “How did you do all this? Where did you get such power? The effort to create all of this-”

“Was beyond us, yes. Even now, though our power now is greater than it was these last years, this still would have required months of effort. Fortunately, there was one who did have the strength.”

The young Zeree’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You made Darkhorse do this! You made him do this with my life as the key to his cooperation!”

“We never threatened your life.” Lady Alcia scratched her neck as she spoke. Like Lochivan’s, it was red and dry. Sharissa recalled his mentioning some rash or minor disease spreading through the Tezerenee and wondered if she would suffer that along with everything else.

“Why don’t you quit acting as if I’m a guest?” The sorceress tugged at her collar. It grew surprisingly tight, making her choke. The Matriarch reached forward and pulled Sharissa’s hands away from her throat.

The collar became bearable again.

“Perhaps we should go back inside.”

Sharissa slapped her hand away, which made the bodyguards bristle again. “Why don’t you-What is that?”

Two Tezerenee were dragging a limp figure between them. He was slighter than either and his clothing reminded her of her stepmother’s clothing.

“It would really be best if you… Sharissa! Stop!”

Too late. Sharissa darted past one of her companion’s watchdogs and raced toward the two warriors dragging the still form. “You there! Stop! Now!”

Still holding their captive, the Tezerenee turned to see who was shouting. They looked at the ungraceful figure in white and then at each other. One reached for a blade, but the second shook his head and said something that she could not make out.

Lady Alcia’s people were no doubt right behind her, but Sharissa did not care. She had to see who it was they had and whether the poor soul was still alive. Most of all, she had to see if he was what she thought he was.

As she neared them, the guards looked past her and nodded. When she sought to lift their prize’s head so that she could see his features, no one stopped her. The sound of heavy footfalls grew louder behind her.

There was no denying the visage. There were differences, of course, but his race was not in question. He was an elf.

Judging by the blood and bruises, he had resisted their questioning. Sharissa glanced up at the two guards, but they were untouched by her smoldering eyes.

The elf began to cough. His eyes opened, handsome almond-shaped tears. It took him a moment to focus and, when he did, he seemed surprised.

“Eve-even among the living death there-there is beauty. Impossible to-to believe you have such a heart of stone.”

He had taken her for one of them. “I’m not-”

“You must come back with us now, Lady Sharissa,” a cold female voice said. The Lady Alcia’s bodyguards stood directly on each side of her. Coughing once more, the elf forced his gaze upward, despite the fact that it obviously hurt him to move so much. He eyed the two with interest, then returned his gaze to Sharissa.

“My lady,” the bodyguard urged. “This is not something to concern yourself with.”

As if on cue, the two warriors holding the elf turned their prize away and once more began to drag him away. Sharissa started after them, but the bodyguards held her back.

“He was part of a force of elves that sought to come upon us through stealth and kill us. With the demon’s aid, we detected them and caught them by surprise.”

“You made Darkhorse aid you in killing them?” The sorceress doubted that the story was as Lady Tezerenee had told it. More than likely, the elves had been scouting the citadel, wondering what it was. Still, what was a party of elves doing on the eastern continent when-

“I see by your eyes that you’ve finally come to the realization. I wondered for a time whether or not your mind was functioning well.” Lady Alcia nodded, the smile on her face much akin to the one the patriarch wore when he was pleased with results. “Yes, this is indeed the Dragonrealm, Sharissa.”

“How could you… Darkhorse again! Everything you’ve accomplished is because of him! You still haven’t brought me to him! Is he dead? Injured?”

At a signal from the matriarch, the bodyguards politely but firmly began to guide a struggling Sharissa back toward the citadel. Lady Alcia walked before them, still acting as if she and Sharissa were amiable companions. “How do you kill a thing that does not, by any standards we know, live? He’s been disciplined, but no more than any other disobedient subject has. When he performs well, he is rewarded as well.”

“Rewarded?” Other than freedom, the Tezerenee could have nothing the shadow steed wanted.

“We want him to be a part of the clan’s destiny as much as we want you to be.”

“You want him to save you from the Seekers! Even Darkhorse won’t be enough to hold them back! He’ll probably laugh while the bird people tear your empire down around you!”

“The avians no longer represent a threat… at least, not one that we cannot deal with ourselves.”

Sharissa stretched forward, trying to come alongside the Lady Tezerenee. “What do you mean?”

Alcia considered the question for a time before finally replying, “It might be better to show you.”

“Show me?”

“We brought a few of them in for study. So far, we have not found a cause for their fate.” The matriarch had altered direction. The two bodyguards steered the helpless Sharissa after her. She did not struggle, for once truly wanting to follow. If what Lady Alcia had said was true, then there remained no force capable of withstanding the Tezerenee, especially if Darkhorse was their tool.

“You know,” her host remarked, stopping and turning around so that the two faced one another. “I think this would be an excellent opportunity to show you the true depth of our strength!”

“What do you…” Sharissa began, but Lady Alcia merely snapped her fingers…

… and they were standing in another chamber, a dark, dank place lit by torches. A Tezerenee leaning over a table looked up. Sharissa, still in shock from the unexpected teleport, did not immediately recognize his shadowed visage.

“You did that as if it were nothing! All four of us! But I thought that you-”

“The old ways are returning. It is as if Nimth is part of us again.” A smile, a Tezerenee smile, slowly spread across the striking face. “We are not the near gods of our past, but we are again a sorcerous power to be respected.”

“It’s as if our destiny is being drawn for us by the hands of the founders themselves,” added the figure by the table. “The day promised to us by the Dragon of the Depths has come.”

Sharissa struggled with her captors. “Lochivan!”

“I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me, Sharissa.” Lochivan wore no helm; he seemed actually sad, though she was not so willing to believe him after his betrayal. “I truly think it would have been best if-”

“That will be all, my son.”

“Forgive you, Lochivan? I wouldn’t-”

He vanished before she could finish. Sharissa ended with a scream of frustration instead.

“When you are more willing, the two of you should talk,” the Lady Tezerenee said in a calm voice. She pointed at the table. “For now, this is what should concern you. This is what you wanted to see.”

Sharissa blinked and glanced without care at the thing on the table. An artifact. A statue carved to resemble a Seeker. Of what interest…

“She does not understand. Bring her closer.”

In silent obedience, the two bodyguards brought Sharissa within an arm’s length of the table and its contents.

She gave it another glance… and could not pull herself away from the thing’s contorted form. The careful detail of horror, the avian eyes staring at death. The mouth open in futile rejection of fate. The awkward sprawl of the body.

It appeared the consistency of marble, this thing before her, but Sharissa knew that if she touched the long, sleek wing or the muscular torso, she would not feel stone, but rather feather and flesh.

“The Dragonrealm is ours, and without even a fight,” Lady Alcia said with satisfaction. Sharissa looked up, unable to think of anything sufficient to say. The matriarch added, “My husband is disappointed. He so much looked forward to a good battle… with us winning, of course.”

As she spoke the last, one hand absently scratched at the reddish area on her neck.