Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

XII

Sharissa hated the riding drakes. She hated their appearance, their attitude, and their smell. They could not compare to a horse. Yet, she had been forced to ride one these past two days. The beast was stupid, and it often grew sidetracked. Once it had even snapped at her for no reason whatsoever.

The patriarch listened to her complaints with the air of one tolerating a whining child. It made no difference whether or not she was having trouble with her mount; Tezerenee used drakes for riding, especially when it was always possible that they might be engaged in combat at any moment.

The force that journeyed to the mountains moved with caution. Teleportation was still a spell beyond most of the Tezerenee, and so they were forced to travel in a more mundane manner. The patriarch also distrusted the absence of the Seekers. Barakas might claim that the aerie was abandoned, but he apparently believed that there was risk enough that rushing into things might result in chaos. He had even brought along a very submissive Darkhorse, who turned his head every time Sharissa attempted to speak with the eternal. Darkhorse was ashamed of his actions, despite the fact that much of what he had done had been for her sake. The captive sorceress did not blame him for anything, but trying to tell him that was proving impossible.

Evening came at last. Barakas gave Reegan permission to give the signal to halt. The heir did so in a sullen mood; he still burned over his father’s decision to leave his mother in control of the burgeoning empire. Reegan had assumed that the patriarch’s being absent would allow him to exercise his long-overdue desire to rule. The heir had even argued with Barakas at some length, but the end had been inevitable. All that Reegan could do was sulk afterward, and he had done so with a determination almost admirable.

Sharissa was just descending from her troublesome steed when a familiar and unwanted voice rose behind her.

“Allow me to help you, Sharissa.”

“I can do without your help or your friendship, Lochivan!” she retorted, dismounting as she spoke.

He aided her nonetheless. “I understand your bitterness and I know that nothing I can do will make up for the wrongs you believe of me, but we will be together for quite some time-all our lives, in fact.”

“I thought is was Reegan the patriarch wanted me to marry, not you.”

A brief chuckle escaped him. “I might admit to having had some thoughts on the subject; I like to think that you might find me a bit more entertaining than my bullish brother. That was not what I meant, however. I merely refer to a fact that you must come to face before very long-that you are now and shall ever be a part of us. There is no going back.”

She tried to take her pack from the drake’s back, but Lochivan moved around her and took it before she could even touch it. “Only a body of water separates me from my father and the other Vraad. Either they will come for me or I will go to them.”

Lochivan signaled to another Tezerenee, who rushed over and took charge of the riding drake. That detail taken care of, the patriarch’s son started walking, Sharissa’s pack still under one arm. The slim woman followed, if only because she knew that he would keep walking regardless of whether she followed. As long as he had her pack, Sharissa knew she would have to listen to him.

“The crossing is deadly; the elf your father took as a mate must have told you that.”

“She survived, didn’t she?”

“Others perished. Besides, do you think you can sail there all by yourself?”

“I have the use of my abilities back-no thanks to you and yours, Tezerenee.” He paused before a clear, smooth location that would leave her near the very middle of the camp. Coincidentally, several Tezerenee stood patrol nearby. “The elves, I understand, are not without their own measure of power. We may be mighty, but the elements must always be respected.”

Reaching out, she tore the pack from his hands. “When have the Vraad ever respected the elements? Have you so easily forgotten Nimth?”

“Hardly. I have learned more than you think, Sharissa. I respect this world. That will not keep me from doing my duty to the clan, though. The Dragon-realm must be brought under control. This idiocy of one race after another passing beyond must end. Already it seems to have claimed the Seekers. We are, if you recall, the founders’ last hope for a successor. We cannot disappoint their memory.”

While he had been talking, Sharissa had knelt down and opened the pack. Each of the food items she removed could have been conjured instead of carried, but Barakas wanted sorcery kept to a minimum. Unlike the millennia of excess that Nimth had suffered under the Vraad, this world was more grudging. The Tezerenee might be able to use the old world’s sorcery, but it still drained them physically. Even Sharissa had bodily limitations. Barakas claimed he wanted everyone at their best should an attack occur. It was also possible that the Seekers might not yet know that they were coming. An excessive use of magic might alert the avians and destroy any advantage of surprise the expedition had.

Sharissa doubted that these were the foremost reasons. She suspected that the patriarch wanted his men to take the aerie without the aid of sorcery; it would serve to bolster morale and add credence to the belief that an empire in this land was their true destiny.

“Listen to me!” Lochivan hissed as he came down on one knee next to Sharissa. His voice was very low and very anxious. “I am your friend whether you believe me or not. I am thinking of you!”

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with your noble thoughts concerning your clan. I’m tired, Lochivan. Go talk to one of your brothers or sisters or cousins or anyone, but stop talking to me.”

He rose, a dark shadow outlined by the last dim rays of the sunken sun. “You and that elf… two of a kind!”

“What about the elf?” Sharissa tried her best not to look too interested.

Lochivan took her interest as an opening. “I have to spend another fruitless evening trying to convince him of the futility of holding back any longer. With his companions dead and his people far away, he should be reasonable. Instead, he merely grits his teeth and stares into space.”

She barely heard most of what he said. “What have you done to him this time?”

The edge in her voice did not go unnoticed. “Only what must be done. We have been careful; damaged, he is no good to anyone. He knows this land better than we. His knowledge must be added to our own.”

Could she possibly-? The thought was so outrageous that she nearly discarded it immediately. Sharissa looked up at the dark figure of Lochivan. “I could speak to him if you would only let me.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

His disbelief was expected. Why would she help the Tezerenee? The sorceress hoped her answer would soothe his suspicions. “I want to save him from any more of the hospitality of Barakas-him and Darkhorse. Let me see what I can do. If I succeed, I expect to be able to spend a bit of time with Darkhorse, too.”

“You expect-”

She raised a hand. “Does not the patriarch say that those who serve shall be rewarded? Have I asked that much?”

Lochivan was silent for so long that Sharissa feared he had rejected her suggestion out of hand and was merely marveling at her gall. Then he laughed.

“I will ask for permission. It may amuse him as much as it does me.” He began to depart, then turned back and, in a quiet voice, added, “It may come as no surprise to you that you are being watched.”

“I hardly thought Lord Barakas wouldn’t safeguard against my good intentions. I think I know what might happen should I desire to test my abilities.”

That produced another good-natured laugh. “You would be wasted on Reegan, Sharissa.”

She busied herself with her blanket and did not reply.

“I am dismissed, I see. Should I gain permission for you to speak to the elf, I will send word. Until then, good evening to you.” His heavy boots crushed fallen twigs and leaves as he moved off. Sharissa waited until the sounds grew faint before turning around to watch his departure.

“I would rather marry Reegan,” she whispered. “At least he I can trust to be consistent.”

“Lady Sharissa?”

The sorceress blinked sleep from her eyes. Night still shrouded the land, but that did not tell her anything of import. “Is it near morning?”

“No, my lady.” A female warrior was bent over her, helm in one arm. Dressed in something finer than armor, she probably would have been attractive. Tezerenee had in general done without magical alterations to their face and form, preferring to live with what nature had chosen for them. For many Tezerenee, that meant less-than-pleasant features. A few of the patriarch’s offspring, such as Gerrod or his late brother Rendel, had been fortunate enough to gain more from their mother than their father.

“What hour is it?”

“We are barely past midnight, Lady Sharissa.”

The warrior was scratching her cheek. In the light of the partial moons the sorceress could see that the same dryness that many Tezerenee suffered had spread to this one’s cheek, ruining what beauty she did have.

Sleep made the sorceress slow. There was a reason why a Tezerenee might have come to her now, but she could not think of what it was. “Then why have I been disturbed?”

“The Lord Barakas Tezerenee has given you permission to speak with the elf.”

“Alone, of course.”

“Of course, my lady.”

They both knew this was far from the truth, but arguing about it would avail Sharissa naught. She would merely have to be careful how she spoke with Faunon. He would understand why. The elf was no one’s fool.

Sharissa rose. “Give me a moment.” She picked up some of the food, including some of the Tezerenee wine Reegan had given her. That the clan of the dragon could make such excellent wine was their only saving grace in her eyes.

When she was ready, the Tezerenee led her to the wagon where Faunon was kept. Two sentries stood ready to receive them. Sharissa expected to see Lochivan nearby, but could not find him. It did not break her heart.

Her guide spoke to the others and indicated Sharissa. One of the guards nodded and both stepped aside. Nodding as if their obedience was to be expected, the sorceress strode past them and over to the wagon door. The Tezerenee preferred a wagon that was more of a room on wheels, including windows and a door. There was no real need for such an elaborate structure where a simple cloth-covered wagon would have sufficed; the wagon was merely a result of the clan’s tastes. In some ways, it resembled a tiny citadel. Sharissa knew that it was even protected to some extent by defensive spells.

A light from within blinded her when she opened the door. Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, took a moment to recuperate. Sharissa saw that a lamp illuminated the interior and wondered if it had been left specifically for her use. The lamp hung on a hook in the ceiling. Beyond it were several mysterious sacks from which emanated a slight magical aura, but nothing that made her worry. Supplies of some sort; she had seen their like often.

Other than the sacks and the lamp, only one other item decorated the wagon’s interior.

Faunon.

He was chained so that he could sit on the floor with his legs outstretched, but there were other chains above those, an indication that sometimes he was forced to stand, probably during questioning. Physically, Faunon looked no worse than he had the last time the tall sorceress had spoken to him. Vraad torture, however, did not necessarily leave its marks on the skin.

She closed the door behind her, even though that did not mean that they could not hear her. It would give them a sense of privacy at least. “Faunon?”

The worn figure did not respond.

“Faunon?” Sharissa’s voice quivered. Had they killed him and left the corpse there for her to see? Was this Lochivan’s mad jest on her?

His chest rose and fell. Sharissa breathed a sigh of relief, more horrified at the thought of his death than she would have believed. The elf was the only being other than Darkhorse that she could think of as a friend.

He looked up. His handsome features were marred by dark circles under his eyes and very, very pale skin. Despite the excessive anguish he had gone through since last they met, the fire was still alive in his eyes. As they focused on her, the flames burned brighter, as if her presence heartened him.

“Lady Sharissa.” He coughed. “I was told you would be coming. I thought their words just another torture. I thought I would never see you again.”

“I couldn’t get to you.” It would do no harm to speak a little about their last encounter. She knew by now that they had at least known of it, if not what the two had actually said during that encounter. “Then, I found you had been moved.”

“These Tezerenee like to play games. One… one of those games is to move me from one place to another, with each… each progressive accommodation worse than the last.”

Sharissa moved close enough to touch him. “I’m sorry. I should have tried harder… for both you and Darkhorse.”

“And what could you have done? There is a saying among us elves,”-he gave her a weak smile-“one of our many sayings, that more… more or less means one should wait for the proper time, for eagerness and overconfidence have brought down many an empire. In this land, we have seen much truth to that.”

His ability to still find strength despite the situation encouraged her.

“I asked them to let me talk to you, Faunon. I told them I might be able to gain your cooperation.”

“You will always have my cooperation. It is only these Tezerenee who will not.”

“There must be something you can tell me, something that will save you from further questioning for the time being. Something about the land or about the caverns in the mountains.” She was almost to the point of pleading. If she failed, the Tezerenee would only redouble their efforts in regard to the elf. Sharissa’s heart beat madly when she thought of that.

Faunon shook his head. “I told them about the caverns. What little I know. I warned them to stay away, that even the Seekers no longer trusted the place.”

“Why is that?”

He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “I told them that something evil lives in the lower depths. They, of course, thought I was trying to pass on some ancient legend, but this thing is a recent horror. My people have spied upon the aeries before, including the caverns, and no one has ever spoken of any monster.”

“Are you certain?” Unlike Lochivan or Barakas, Sharissa was willing to believe what the captive elf was saying. She could see the truth of what he said in his eyes. She could see many things in his eyes.

“As certain as I am of anything,” he replied, but his voice was distant, as if his mind were elsewhere. Sharissa blinked and turned away until she was certain she could face him without reddening.

“Is there anything else you could tell them? Are there many Seekers left here? Have you seen the upper caverns?”

“I saw a huge, unearthly stallion race to the east. It was weeks ago, but they might-”

She shook her head. “That was Darkhorse.”

“Darkhorse?” He gave her an appraising look. “I thought the name only fanciful. There are many such names among us elves. When you used this Dark-horse’s name, I did not think it was meant to be so literal. For a Vraad, you make interesting friends. First an ebony demon and then myself. I thought your race rather arrogant toward outsiders.”

“Are all elves the same? You hardly seem as formal I was always told.”

“I take your point.” Since the start of her visit, or perhaps even because of it, Faunon had grown stronger and more coherent. Sharissa was pleased, but realized that it all meant nothing so long as they were prisoners of the Tezerenee.

“This Darkhorse,” interrupted Faunon. “You mentioned him as a fellow prisoner. Is the dragonlord so powerful that he could bind this stallion to his will?”

Outside, something thumped against the side of the wagon. The sorceress listened for a moment, but when it was not repeated she decided it was nothing. “He wasn’t before. They’re growing stronger, Faunon. Soon, they’ll rape this land as they did the last… and I can do nothing to stop them!”

“Nimth. That’s what it was called, wasn’t it? The world we fled from? The world the Vraad ravaged?”

She nodded.

His mouth was a grim line. “I doubt they will find this domain so pliable. It has faced others before your people. There were many who wanted to adapt the land to them instead of working with it. Whenever that happened, the land seemed to make them adapt.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you felt any different since coming to this world? Any change at all?”

“I felt more at home than I ever had on Nimth. It was a glorious change for me.” For the first time, she recalled the wine and food in her hands. The young Vraad showed it to Faunon, who momentarily dropped his question and smiled at the sight. “Is that wine? Could I have a bit of that before I continue? Our friends have given me nothing but brackish water, albeit all I could drink.”

“Let me help you.” She brought the wine to his mouth and tilted it. Faunon, his eyes on her, swallowed twice and then indicated she should stop.

“Thank you… gods! What sweet honey!”

“The Tezerenee make it.”

“Proving that they have at least one good quality, I suppose.” While she broke apart some bread and cheese for him, he returned to his subject. “Having spent these few wonderful moments with you, I can see that you and the land would have no quarrel. The same cannot be said for the dragon men, however. The land will not tolerate them.”

Sharissa thought to ask him if he knew of the founders and how their kas, their spirits, were a part of the land now, but the telling of that would take her much too long.

A heavy weight fell against the wagon, striking so hard that the entire structure shook.

“Are we under attack?” Faunon asked, frustration at being chained during a time of danger taking over. The sorceress had thought of trying to remove the chains, but, recalling that they were like her collar, knew it would be an exercise in futility.

She rose. “I’ll see what it is.”

“You could be killed!”

“I’ll not wait for whatever it is to come to us!”

With great caution, she reached for the door handle. Sharissa raised her other hand, ready to cast a spell the moment she opened the door.

A hulking figure from without burst through the door as if it were dry kindling.

“Lllaaady Zzzzzerrreeeee,” it hissed.

It wore what looked like the remnants of armor, not that it needed any, for it had a natural scale armor of its own that went from head to foot. The fiend was almost human in form, but bent awkwardly, as if it was trying to move as a man but not built for the purpose. The hands were more like the paws of the riding drakes and ended in equally sharp talons.

Worst of all was the visage. As the body could only mock that of a human, so too did the face, only more so. The eyes, though crystalline like a Vraad’s, were long and narrow. The horror’s nose was virtually nonexistent, two mere slits in the center. Its mouth was full of teeth that were pointed and made for tearing flesh from a kill.

It was coming for her.

“Lllaaady Sharissssssa!” It reached out for her, but she jumped back just in time. The creature was like some legacy of mad Nimth. She tried to concentrate, knowing that only seconds separated her from death. Physically, the frightened sorceress was no match, but her powers might save her if she could only think.

If only it would stop flashing those teeth! she kept thinking. “Sharissa!” Faunon called from behind her. That snapped her out of it. It would not only be she that perished if she failed to act, but also Faunon, who could not even defend himself.

“Lllaaady, I-”

Whatever it sought to say, Sharissa would never know. A spell formed in her mind and was completed accordingly. Brilliant, scarlet bands swarmed around the reptilian terror, who fought them with the savagery of an animal cornered. The bands began to tighten around its arms and legs. Sharissa breathed easier.

A yellow aura originating from the creature evaporated the bands just as it seemed the battle had been won.

“Yooou mussst-” the creature started to say, forked tongue lashing in and out of its mouth.

Before her eyes, it twitched once-and fell forward, already dead.

There was an arrow in the back of its neck. The shot had been so perfectly aimed that death had been instantaneous.

“Inside!” a voice shouted.

Two Tezerenee in full armor came rushing in. One of them bent down and inspected the sprawling figure while the other kept his sword ready should it turn out that, impossible as it was, the monster still lived.

“Well?” roared the same voice that had ordered the two inside. Lochivan peered in, his bow ready.

“Dead, milord.”

“Roll it over.”

The warrior who bent by the corpse removed the arrow and did as Lochivan commanded. Everyone stared at the horrible features.

“This is the armor of one of our own, milord.”

“I can see that.” Lochivan looked up at Sharissa. “Are you injured at all?”

“No.” For the first time in weeks, she was actually happy to see him. “I held it back, but it had sorcery of its own.”

“Yes, I know. It killed one of the sentries outside by sorcery. Quietly, too. The other sentry did not notice until the first fell to the ground. By that time, it was too late for him to save himself, much less the first man.”

“Milord!” The Tezerenee who had studied the dead monstrosity stumbled back, unable to hide his shock. “This is one of us!”

“What? Impossible!” Handing his bow to the other man, Lochivan knelt and inspected his kill. His hand roved over what remained of the armor and then to the face. He stared hard and long, trying to make sense of what lay before him.

Sharissa, too, was staring long and hard. Unbidden came the memory of the warrior she and Lochivan had confronted in the corridor just before her public humiliation by Barakas.

“Lochivan,” she started. “Do you recall the man we met in the hall? The one doubled over from illness?”

He looked up. “I recall him.” Unlike his father, the sorceress was aware that he could name every Tezerenee in the clan, be they born by those of the founding blood or outsiders who had joined the ranks at one time or another. It was even a point of pride with him. “That would make this…” Lochivan turned to one of his men. “See if Ivor can be found! He was among the chosen for this expedition since he was a part of the first.”

Hearing this, Sharissa’s brow furrowed. Was it pure coincidence? “Is Ivor a relation?”

“A cousin. Obedient, little else. He was one of the earliest to cross over from Nimth.”

As the one warrior departed to fulfill his desires, others arrived. One saluted Lochivan, who stood. “Well?”

“There are three dead. We found another man gutted a short distance from here.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing.”

“Dispose of this… this… dispose of him in a discreet manner. Is that understood?”

“Yes, milord.”

While the others began dragging the body out, Lochivan noticed Faunon for the first time. Ignoring Sharissa, he marched over to the elf and knelt by him.

“What trick was that, elf? Are your fellows out there now?” He gripped Faunon’s jaw in one hand. “Have I been too lenient with you?”

Sharissa’s relief at seeing Lochivan faded. He had no right to treat Faunon so. “What could he know? What part could he have played, Lochivan? Look at him. You’ve reduced him to little more than a shell!”

“It… it… is all r-right, my l-lady.” With the return of the Tezerenee, Faunon was exaggerating his condition. Sharissa tried not to react, understanding that Faunon wanted them to believe he was weaker than he was. To Lochivan, the captive replied, “I know… nothing, friend. That I swear t-to you. Do you think I w-would have invited such… such a menace into this p-place when I cannot even defend myself? I w-would rather you slit… slit my throat than for… for me t-to be torn apart by so grisly a beast.”

“Do you claim that the elves did not do this?”

“Your man was ill before this, Lochivan,” Sharissa reminded him again. It had not been proven that this was indeed the one called Ivor, but she suspected such evidence would be forthcoming. “It could have been something else.”

He sighed. Standing, the Tezerenee removed his helm and scratched at his throat, where the dry patches of skin had spread. It had become so familiar a habit with him that he no longer even complained when it itched. “Perhaps you are correct. The Seekers have been conspicuously absent.”

She did not understand. “I thought the aerie we travel to had been abandoned and the Seekers were dead.”

“There are a few to weed out. Survivors, nothing more.”

A change in the expression on the elf’s visage made the young sorceress’s eyes dart to Faunon and quickly back again. At mention of the caverns, he had become lost in thought, as if making some connection that she could not. Once Lochivan left, perhaps she could-

“I am afraid that I must terminate your conversation with the prisoner,” the armored figure said at that moment. “You will be given another chance to speak with him, I think. For now, I would prefer that you be where I can guard you better.”

“Me? It was one of your people that suffered-”

“And he came for you. It may be that you are seen as a risk to whoever is responsible. I want nothing to happen to you, Sharissa.” Lochivan’s tone softened toward the end.

She wanted to argue, but the outcome would be the same regardless. Behind the Tezerenee, Faunon indicated that she should agree. Too much protest and they might change their minds about allowing her to talk to him again.

“Very well.” It was doubtful that sleep would be so easily forthcoming. “Let me escort you back.”

“That will not be necessary.” She did not want him touching her.

“You will be safer. This may not be an isolated incident.”

As before, there could be only one outcome. Conceding defeat, she nodded and gave him her hand.

“You have… have my gratitude as… as well,” Faunon commented as the Tezerenee was about to lead her out. “How fortunate that you were so nearby.”

Meaning that Lochivan had either been spying on them or had been waiting for Sharissa to leave the wagon. The Tezerenee glanced her way, but did not return the elf’s comment. He did, however, lead the slim woman out of the wagon much more swiftly than necessary.

Outside, several Tezerenee were still moving about. Two moved to clean the debris that had once been the door. Sharissa looked for signs of the sentries’ bodies, but they had already been cleared away. She felt some pity for them, but not quite as much as she would have for the elves their kind had slaughtered weeks ago. Much of what the Tezerenee suffered they had brought upon themselves.

Only two days from the citadel and this had occurred. As she and Lochivan walked away from the carnage in silence, Sharissa wondered what the coming days had planned.

Somehow, she felt it would only be worse.