Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

XI

Two days among the Quel had answered no questions for Gerrod. He still had no idea how long he had been adrift in the Void. To his own way of thinking, it had been a mere handful of hours, but he knew from his talks with Dru that time played tricks where the domain of nothingness was concerned. What might seem hours might prove to be months. For all he knew, his people were dead or, worse yet, Sharissa was a valued member of the clan, bride to the heir and mother of his children.

A heavy thump against his back sent him flailing to the ground. Around him, the Quel unleashed a chorus of hooting. From earlier confrontations, he had come to the conclusion that this was the bulky creatures’ equivalent of laughter.

Rising with as much dignity as he could muster, the Vraad scanned his surroundings once more. They were traveling southwest and, while Gerrod was not yet certain, he suspected he was far from where he wanted to be. In the distance, there appeared to be a vast body of water, possibly a great sea, but trying to focus on it was impossible. For the last day, he had been forced to shield his eyes from everything, even his inhuman companions.

The problem lay in the fact that everything around him glittered like so much perfect crystal. The Quel themselves were not excluded; being so close, they were sometimes blinding. Looking down helped a bit, but even the rocky ground beneath his feet sparkled.

He knew the cause. This region was laden with crystalline fragments of all shapes and sizes, scattered about as if at some point there had been a great upheaval, perhaps the shaping of this land by the world itself.

The glitter of the Quel was not natural but camouflage. Their shells consisted of a series of folds that, at birth, must have been much more open. In each fold were countless gems that the shell had eventually grown over, albeit not completely. Any Seeker in the sky would be half blinded by the landscape already, and the crystals on the Quel would make them blend into all that glitter.

How well that protection worked outside of this region was debatable.

The crystals had one more use that was no doubt planned by their users. They had a dizzying effect on those unused to them. Somehow, the Quel had identified him as a spellcaster; it might be that they had even spotted him coming into the Dragonrealm. Upon deciding to let him live, which had turned out to be the point of an unintelligible argument that had lasted more than a quarter hour, one of the armadillolike creatures had dragged him forward and thrust a particularly bright gem before his eyes. The blindness caused by the bright sunlight reflecting off of the gem had been temporary, but it had been accompanied by what he had taken at the time to be simple heat reflection. It had given him a headache, which he had thought of as a minor nuisance until he tried to clear his head. The concentration he needed was not there. Had he tried any serious escape attempt utilizing his abilities, it was just as likely he would have included himself in any attack on his captors.

The headache had vanished, but only so that the dizziness could replace it.

Another hour passed. The sun was on its downward arc, which, unfortunately, put it before the travelers. Am I to go permanently blind? he wondered. His companions were indifferent to his situation; they appeared to have a series of eyelids, all but the outermost one transparent to a certain point. The brighter it became, the darker their eyes appeared to grow as another lid slid into place. He wondered whether it was a natural ability or whether they had altered themselves much the way the Vraad had once.

A heavy hand-paw, as far as the disheveled Tezerenee was concerned-took hold of Gerrod’s arm and dragged him to a halt.

“What is it?” he snarled, both frightened and angry. He wanted to teach these overgrown beasts their place, but, to his misfortune, they already knew it. To them, he was the animal.

The one who had stopped him raised its battle-ax and pointed to one of the minor hills that had just cropped up to their right. Gerrod spent more time staring at the weapon than at yet another of the land’s unremarkable features. He had felt its weight more than once, usually when he was swatted with the flat of it, and knew that no human could have lifted it from the ground, much less used it in so casual a manner.

The Quel beside him hooted and pointed at the hill again. The Vraad started toward it, but was pulled back as if he weighed less than nothing. The Quel hooted again.

Gerrod shook his head, hoping that they understood by now that this was his way of saying he did not understand. The warlock had been shaking his head quite a bit in the past two days.

Frustrated, the massive creature prodded the earth and made his prisoner look down

Something was burrowing through the ground toward them.

He tried to back away, but the Quel held him. The burrowing form moved closer. Gerrod tried to formulate a spell, but the dizziness prevented him. His captors had brought him here to be sacrificed to some horror they worshiped. It had to be. Whether it killed him or not, he would have to try a spell… any spell!

A swat on the head put an end to that thought. His head pounded and his ears rang, all in addition to his ever-present impediment.

It burst forth, claws ready… and proved to be nothing more than another Quel, only larger than the others.

The warlock found himself falling before the newcomer, propelled there by the one who had taken his arm.

A snouted visage looked down upon him, contempt for his pathetic little form more than apparent. One head-sized paw reached toward him, claws bared, and Gerrod was almost certain he was about to breathe his last. Instead of crushing the warlock’s skull, an act that would certainly have required little exertion on the Quel’s part, the earth-digger took him by the collar and dragged him closer.

“Dragon’s blood!” he gasped. His shirt and cloak collars were pulled so tight that it was nearly impossible to draw air.

His new captor hooted several times to the other, who returned his noises with some of their own and then turned away. They were departing.

What now? the bedraggled Vraad wanted to know. Only one thing came to mind, but surely the armored monstrosity would not-

Gerrod in one hand, the Quel effortlessly began to burrow in the ground.

“No! I can’t! Stop!” He struggled to free himself, but his horrific keeper took no notice of his weak efforts. Visions of being buried alive shook Gerrod’s very being. The earth grew nearer and nearer; he might have been sinking in quicksand. Already, most of the Quel’s unsightly form was covered with dirt. Only the wrist and hand that held his captive were still visible.

The warlock took a deep breath and barely had time to hold it before his face met the ground. He shut his eyes and prayed that death would be quick.

Loose dirt tried to enter his nostrils. Gerrod could not move his hands forward and was forced to exhale through his nose in order to clear it. He began struggling for more air.

The Quel and he broke into a vast tunnel.

Light of a limited source allowed him some inspection of his surroundings. The dim glow came from several crystals lined along the tunnel wall. Those nearest were brightest. Gerrod tested the air-having no other choice by this time-and found it dry but breathable.

He was aware that this could hardly be the same tunnel that his present guardian had come from. Most likely, it stood some distance beneath or to the side of the one the Quel itself had burrowed. Why it had chosen to make a path of its own rather than take this one in the first place was a question Gerrod doubted the Quel would answer even if the two of them could understand one another’s language. Like Zeree’s Seekers, the earth dwellers had mind-sets much different than those of the Vraad. Perhaps this tunnel was specifically reserved for the transportation of surface creatures like himself.

Satisfied that his charge was in fair shape, the Quel pulled the Tezerenee to his feet. From somewhere a long, needlelike spear materialized. Gerrod could not recall seeing it before, but there had been no time for such unimportant observations until now.

The Quel pushed him ahead and leveled the spear. Gerrod understood his meaning and hastened to comply.

He had walked only a few yards when he began to sense the intense aura of sorcery all about him. Some feature about this place seemed to draw from the natural forces of the land. Gerrod was near a place of power, a well of magic of sorts. It was not merely the crystals in the walls; their only purpose seemed to be to light the portion of the tunnel where travelers happened to be. Still, Gerrod had enough knowledge of crystal sorcery to realize that the Quel might have other gemstones that gathered the raw energy of the world for their later manipulation. There were many things that could be achieved through that particular magic that normal Vraad sorcery-and possibly even Dragonrealm sorcery-could only struggle in vain to achieve.

If I can find those gemstones… There might yet be a way out of all of this, Gerrod decided.

It occurred to him than that he had not felt any dizziness since being brought to the tunnel.

He turned on the Quel, who froze and readied the spear, and cast a crude but deadly missile of fire at the creature.

The armadillolike horror hooted in derision.

Gerrod’s mouth hung open as he desperately tried another gambit. He could sense the power around him; why could he not cast even the simplest of spells?

Sufficiently amused, the Quel ceased hooting and jabbed at him with the spear, clearly desiring that the tiny, weak thing before it stop playing and keep walking. Gerrod did so, his resistance all but dead. Whatever caused power to gather here was drawing what he attempted to summon even before he could make use of it. The warlock was as helpless as ever. His only consolation lay in the fact that he no longer suffered from any dizziness.

It did nothing to soothe his weary mind.

The Quel proceeded to steer him down tunnel after tunnel after tunnel. It was not long before Gerrod gave up trying to memorize his path; the tunnel system consisted almost entirely of one winding trail crossing another. There were at least two points where he was almost certain they had backtracked. His guard, however, continued to steer him along with purpose.

Claustrophobia began to set in. They were on a downward route-at least that much Gerrod had been able to tell, little good it did him. The tunnels were growing narrower. He pictured the many tons of earth above him and what would happen to the tunnel should a slight tremor occur. It was with great relief that he finally noticed the brilliant illumination far down the opposite end of the latest tunnel. So certain was the tired warlock that they had somehow reached the surface again that he almost started running. Only a reminding hoot from the Quel behind him kept him from doing so. For the rest of the trek Gerrod struggled to maintain his composure. A spear in his back-through his entire torso, more likely-would make his return to the outside world a short one, indeed.

It was not until he was mere yards from the mouth of the tunnel that it became clear that this was not the sun that glowed so bright.

Gerrod stepped out into the last domain of the Quel.

To call it a city was perhaps to use a misnomer. There were no streets, no buildings as a Vraad would know them, and the Quel he saw moving around were not going about the mundane daily activities that made up city life. Gerrod had spent a few days in the Vraad colony during its first years, mostly at the request of Dru Zeree or his daughter when they needed his assistance with some project, and he recalled some of the things he had seen his people doing in order to get through yet another day. The creatures before him, some so distant they were little more than shapes, moved with purpose. Whether they climbed the walls of the massive cavern, burrowed from one tunnel to another, or simply walked across the smooth floor, they traveled as if their existence depended on it.

He looked up and found what he had taken for the sun. The ceiling of the cavern was dotted with thousands of crystals, but, unlike the gems in the tunnels, they were not the actual source of the light. Instead, he saw that the light came from elsewhere, perhaps even the surface, and was reflected again and again by the array spread throughout the ceiling. It was a masterful manipulation of the crystals’ natural abilities and required no sorcery-something that would have been impossible under present circumstances anyway.

The Quel who guarded him had come to his side and was also staring out at the city, but not for the same reason. It located another of its kind, who looked more or less exactly like every other Quel that Gerrod had seen, and signaled to it. The other monster hooted a short reply and climbed along the wall toward the duo.

Both fascinated and horrified, the warlock could only watch. That such huge beasts could move about so nimbly down here and climb from one precarious position to another was astounding. He hoped they did not plan on having him attempt to mimic their skill; if so, it would be a short climb-and a fatal fall.

“Sharissa Zeree,” he whispered. “What have you gotten me into?”

Gerrod soon found that he had once more been turned over to another guard. The newcomer looked him over, reached out with a speed remarkable for its size, and wrapped the helpless Tezerenee in a one-armed bear hug. While Gerrod struggled to keep from being cracked into small pieces, the massive, armadillolike creature managed a handhold on the wall and pulled itself out of the tunnel and into the huge cavern. One-armed, the Quel somehow scurried across the wall for some distance before diving into yet another tunnel. Even as it landed on its feet, it released its prisoner. The warlock fell to the floor an ungainly sight.

More tunnels followed. Gerrod was convinced that this was to be the rest of his life. He pictured himself going from tunnel to tunnel-with occasional panic-filled rides in the arms of leaping Quel-until he came out of the other side of the world. Would that be the other continent? he wondered. Likely not. With his luck it would be the bottom of the middle of the sea.

He tried another spell at one point, a spell whose results would be for his eyes only if it did succeed, but the strange power that the Quel race controlled still held sway. Sorcery would not save him here; he would have to rely upon his mind and body.

When they came at last to yet another lit cavern, the warlock gave it only a cursory glance at first. It held only a few Quel, who darted this way and that or stood conversing near the center, and not much else. A few tunnels dotted the sides of this chamber.

There was a pause that dragged out much too long for Gerrod. He turned to his captor and, though he knew the creature understood him as well as the warlock understood a drake, asked, “Well? Which way?”

He nearly lost his composure when the guard looked down at him as if listening and then abruptly pointed toward the group clustered around the center of the chamber. It was pure coincidence, the Tezerenee told himself. The Quel could not possibly understand him; that had already been proven… hadn’t it?

A deep grunt from his companion warned him that he had a very short time limit within which to respond to its command. The needle spear that this one also carried emphasized more than that particular point.

As Gerrod stepped into the cavern chamber, the Quel within looked up from whatever they were doing and stared at him. Unlike those he had met so far, these eyed him more with an open curiosity than with contempt or hatred. Gerrod met the studious gaze of one and noted an intelligence there that was far above those who had brought him here.

The Quel conversed for several seconds, the sounds emitted by the sentry indicating the respect in which it held the others. When that was done, the one who had matched gazes with Gerrod stepped forward. It waved a paw at the warlock, who walked in cautious fashion toward it, his eyes constantly returning to the guard. Quite suddenly, Gerrod wanted to leave this place and return to the monotony of the tunnels or even the blood-coursing fear of a cavern crossing. He knew now that he had at last reached his destination.

As ever, the Quel seemed to take his responses with a touch of amusement. Dru Zeree’s short experience with the monsters had told the warlock little; most of the Quel the sorcerer had encountered had died shortly after in combat with a party of Seekers.

Would that I could trade places with you now, Master Zeree, Gerrod thought sourly.

Behind him, he heard the guard depart.

A host of Quel descended upon him before he was halfway to the one who had summoned him forward. The hooded Tezerenee buried himself in the confines of his cloak and cursed his inability to defend himself. Even a sword or ax would have been nice. It would have at least given him some comfort in his final moments.

They hovered about him, gesturing and hooting to one another like a parliament of owls. Several of them spoke to him, their unintelligible comments often ending on a questioning note.

One outshouted the rest, possibly the same one who had first waved to him. It indicated he should follow it. Glad of anything that would free him of the imposing circle of figures, Gerrod obeyed.

There was a platform in the center of the room, a low one, which was why he had not seen it behind the Quel when he had first arrived. On it were arrayed several rows of crystals, some in patterns and some not. Many individual stones had been purposely cut to create new shapes. The Quel leader-Gerrod was willing to assume that this was the leader-picked one up and held it out to the Vraad.

Fascination momentarily overwhelming caution, he took the crystal from the outstretched paw.

Understanding-cooperation-question?

Caught unaware by the immediate influx of images and impressions, the Vraad dropped the gem. The chaos in his mind evaporated like so much early-morning dew. “Manee’s madness!” he swore, eyeing the jewel as if it were alive.

“What was that you… did you…”

The Quel who had given him the crystal pointed to it again. With so many fearsome faces around him, Gerrod could do nothing but obey, yet he moved with as much caution as he felt they would allow him. He had a fair idea of what purpose the crystal served, but the sensations that had invaded his thoughts had frightened him.

His hand snared the gem… and the impressions returned to torment his mind.

Weak… elf… question?… Quel… enemy… question?

“Not so fast!” The images became jumbled. The warlock saw distended versions of himself and the Quel. There was also what must have been an elf.

The crystal served as a way of communication, but it was limited when dealing with two such diverse minds. A Quel obviously did not think in the same terms as a Vraad. Still, it was better than no communication at all. Gerrod simply had to puzzle out the images.

He wondered why his captors needed no such gems, but then recalled all of the crystals embedded in their armored hides. Why not include one of these among the rest? They would never be without a means of understanding an outsider. The guards had understood him after all; it was just that he had been without a means of translating their words and thoughts.

Elf… question?

Did they think he was an elf? “No, not an elf. I’m a Vraad. Vraad.”

Vraad… question?… nest… question?

What did they mean… “Do you want to know where I come from?”

He felt an impression of approval. The Quel, long experienced in this method of communication, were having an easier time understanding him.

Though he did not have to speak, Gerrod felt more comfortable doing so. “I come from-” Should he tell them about Nimth? The colony? “I come from across the seas to the east.”

No other land… statement!.. arrival here… question?

They refused to believe in the other continent. Could this be the work of the guardians, the founders’ magical servants? “I came from across the seas. I didn’t mean to come here. It was an accident.”

Land is dying… statement!.. Sheekas… Seekers… same… question?… loosen living death… horror… statement!.. Lost… statement!.. winged ones triumphant… statement!

“Wait! Please wait!” Too much at once! “The land is dying? Which land?”

He saw the very terrain he had walked through for the last two days. For the first time, he felt the despair of the armadillolike race. Why had he not noticed the bleakness of the landscape the first time? There was some plant life, but it was widely scattered and barely able to sustain itself. “This land? This land is dying?”

The Seekers-his host had picked up the Vraad name for the avians-had unleashed some living death upon their foes. Gerrod felt a chill when the Quel thought about what had happened. Whatever the avians had loosed had sucked the life from this domain.

“I understand… I think.”

He was buffeted by more. Now that he had been told of the disaster that had befallen them, the Quel showed him the dead, petrified corpses that were cold to the touch. Gerrod watched wave after wave of Seekers dive from the sky to finish the task, not an actual event, he discovered, but simply the way the Quel visualized their slaughter by their avian foes. They had not actually seen any of the bird people since the last desperate gamble that had saved a portion of their race. It was a certainty among the Quel that the Seekers would soon be on their way.

Their mortal foes would find this domain bereft of survivors. The earth dwellers had planned for this eventuality.

Cities abandoned… statement!.. the dead left behind, a trick on the birds… statement!.. survivors gathered in this cavern, a place unknown to the Seekers… statement!

It was becoming a little easier to understand them. Each time the Quel told him of something, the crystal indicated whether it was a query or a comment. He admired the skill with which the artifact had been crafted, but wondered how the gems could work so close to whatever it was that made sorcery impossible here.

It occurred to him that he had not tested his powers in the last few minutes. Perhaps he was no longer bereft of his abilities. It might be interesting to-

The same images and impressions struck him again, only with more force. This time, he paid more attention to them; realizing that there must be a reason they were telling him all of this. What he had taken for a city, for instance, had not been such, at least not compared to what the images revealed to him. Though underground, what the Quel passed on to him was more like what he would have recognized as normal. There were buildings and roads, yet all of it was still deep beneath the earth. The huge cavern that he had passed through had been dug out as a precaution, a place for the Quel to flee should their cities be assaulted.

And so they had been.

More and more was impressed upon him until Gerrod had finally had enough. He put up a halting hand-hoping the Quel understood its meaning-and said, “You want something of me. What is it?”

You elf/not elf… statement!/question?

He nodded slowly. “Yes, I am not an elf, but there are similarities.” Had he gotten the meaning correct? Should he tell them that they and the elves shared with him a common heritage? Should he mention to them that the Seekers as well were related? Gerrod covertly scanned his companions and decided that it would not be an intelligent move to introduce such radical notions to creatures who could tear him apart without exerting themselves. “You had your patrols searching for elves, didn’t you? One of them just lucked onto me instead.”

Several Quel broke into muted conversations. The warlock knew he had guessed correctly; they had sought out an elf, and the patrol, not familiar with the Vraad race, had taken him for one of the woodland dwellers. In their eyes, the physical differences between elf and Vraad were fairly nonexistent.

Short path of travel… statement! The Quel leader took Gerrod by the arm, its grip surprisingly gentle. The ravaging claws were carefully turned so as to not rip into his arm. He marveled at the difference between this group and the various guards that had dragged him across half this region. Here he had been treated with a grudging sort of respect, as if these Quel understood that, while he was different, he was capable in his own right.

Could they aid him in his own quest? If he assisted them in whatever their endeavor was, they might be willing to do the same. He chuckled at the thought of legions of the creatures bursting forth from the ground beneath his father’s feet. So concerned with the sky and the surface, the Tezerenee would never expect an invasion from under the earth. The patriarch knew of the Quel, but, to him, they were only a story retold by his respected rival, Zeree. The Tezerenee had actually faced the Seekers; they were a recognized threat.

The Quel who held him glanced his way when the warlock started chuckling, perhaps trying to understand what the sounds meant. The crystals might translate the sense of amusement, but Gerrod had no idea of their limitations. He had picked up emotions here and there during their peculiar conversation, but they were always associated with impressions directly transmitted to him. Nothing that did not matter to the situation at hand had been conveyed to him. He hoped his mastery of the astonishing crystals was sufficient to prevent his own random thoughts from being sent out. Until he became more proficient, the Tezerenee decided again to continue speaking out loud in order to keep his thoughts focused.

More proficient? How long, he wondered for the first time, would he be here? Despite their politeness, the hulking creatures had not once indicated that the Tezerenee would be allowed to leave even if he did perform whatever task they needed him for. Like many Vraad, the Quel might be capable of smiling, or however they expressed themselves, while at the same time burying their spears or axes in one’s back.

To Gerrod, the tunnel he was led into suddenly grew very oppressive, reminding him of the path to a crypt. His, perhaps.

It grew cold, the first time Gerrod had felt cold since coming here. Even the Quel seemed touched by it, for they slowed their pace and a few looked around in what a Vraad would have been growing anxiety touching upon fear. Only the leader seemed nearly the same; its peculiar eyes blinked constantly, but it alone kept the steady pace. The warlock was not reassured, however. He had met enough madmen and fools. For all he knew, the worst of them now dragged him by the arm toward chaos incarnate.

They came to the mouth of yet another cavern, but unlike the others, this one was as black as Darkhorse. Gerrod could see nothing within even after allowing his eyes to adjust. As he turned to his guide, the warlock saw the rest of the band back away a few steps.

The leader’s eyes surveyed him from head to toe. Was he being measured? Had the Quel begun to wonder about Gerrod’s ability to survive whatever lurked within?

“What is in there?” he asked.

You/we… yourself/ourselves… statement!/question?

What could that mean? He asked the question again, but received only the same response. It made no sense no matter how he turned it. The impressions were jumbled, uncertain. Gerrod came to the conclusion that the Quel could not explain, might not even know. Maybe that was why they needed an outsider like an elf. Whatever lay waiting within the darkness could very well be beyond their comprehension. Once more, he was reminded of how different their minds were from those of his people. It might be that there was nothing for him to worry about.

Gerrod did not believe that for a moment.

As it turned out, his choice was made for him. The Quel leader gripped his arm tight enough to make the Vraad gasp… and dragged him inside. The others hung back and waited.

Somehow Gerrod found himself in front of the Quel leader, though he could only tell that by touch. The creature’s grip was now the only thing he could be certain about; his eyes could make out nothing in the darkness, and all sound appeared to have ceased the moment they entered.

The Quel released its grip and vanished into the darkness.

“Wait! Where are you?” The warlock turned around, but he could not find the path back even though it should have been visible. “Dragon’s blood! Don’t leave me in here! I cannot see a thing!” He feared to move, uncertain as to whether his next step would take him over some unseen brink or into the waiting arms of… of what?

When, however, it became apparent that no one would be coming to retrieve him, the warlock finally dared a tentative step forward.

A thousand blinding suns brilliantly illuminated the chamber. Gerrod put an arm before his eyes and drew the hood of his cloak over his face. After such complete darkness, the light was doubly harsh. He would have stayed as he was, wrapped tight in his cloak, but for the whispering. He could not make out what they said, but there was a familiarity to their voices, almost as if they were all the same voice, but speaking of different things. None of them heeded the others in the slightest.

They have thrown me to a legion of madmen or demons! he decided. Monsters who, no doubt, I will soon join in madness!

What was it about the voices that sounded so familiar to him? There were differences, to be sure, but the tones and inflections were the same regardless of that. He knew those voices, knew them to be only one voice.

One voice…

“Cursed Nimth,” the Tezerenee whispered. “What sort of mockery is this?” He slid the hood back a little and found the light more tolerable now. The discovery disappointed him, for Gerrod had hoped for an excuse to keep from looking. Now, the only thing holding him back was his own cowardice.

The mocking laughter of his father assailed his ears, but Gerrod understood that out of all the voices he heard, his sire’s was the only one solely of his imagination. The rest were very real.

He looked up and saw them-the faces in crystal.

They were everywhere, the faces, because, unlike the other chambers, there was nothing here but crystal. The floor, the ceiling, the walls-from tiny, indistinct specks to huge, horrifying demons, the faces were all about. They babbled on in a frantic manner, as if their very lives depended on his understanding them. Try as he might, Gerrod could not make out one true word. He strained to hear the whisperings of an ancient, balding seer and the harsh mutterings of a hooded fiend whose face refused to focus for him. Another, a young, amiable figure with a shock of silver hair amidst a field of brown, talked to him as if they were close friends. Even still, the warlock could not make out what the other was trying to convey, despite desperately wanting to understand one, any one, of the phantoms trapped in the crystals. He knew them now, knew them as well as he knew himself.

That was who they were. No matter how changed-and some were very, very changed-they were all Gerrod.