Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

XIV

Barakas gazed up at the mountains towering before them and smiled. “Magnificent! Truly worthy!”

Even Sharissa, whose mind continued to dwell upon that terrifying yet sad incident of a few nights before, had to agree with him. The mountains were majestic, more so because they were natural formations, not something that had been conjured up, as in the old days of Nimth.

“No one can long look at the Tybers and not feel their power,” Faunon whispered to her. He had, in the last day, been given leave to ride at the head of the expedition alongside Sharissa. The elf had finally agreed to guide them, mostly out of concern for the young sorceress. She found his interest in her both pleasant and embarrassing, and matters were not helped by his occasional glances and reassuring smiles.

Merely fellow prisoners, she told herself. Our only common interest is escape from here. That he was a welcome change from most of her kind she was not yet willing to admit to, not even to herself.

Escape was still out of the question so long as the patriarch controlled or contained Darkhorse. Sharissa tore her eyes from the grand scenery and studied the box that was slung near the Lord Tezerenee’s leg, ready for quick use, if necessary. It was never far from his side, and she already knew that the spells were specifically tied to him, making the chance of someone else opening it slim-at least without injuring or even killing the occupant within the box. Darkhorse could be destroyed; that was something she knew to be very true by now. He was not the invincible, godlike being from beyond that her father’s tales had once indicated to her. Rather, he was very, very vulnerable to many things. Too many things.

“This would be a good place to strike,” Faunon whispered to her, meaning the Seekers, who had yet to make an appearance during this entire journey. Even though they had at last reached the mountains, which still meant another day’s journey to the base of the one they sought, the Tezerenee were not acting overconfident. Many of those born to the clan were undoubtedly replaying their near massacre by the avians some fifteen years before over and over again in their thoughts. Everyone talked of the incident with the unfortunate Ivor, a victim, it was decided, of some twisted avian spell.

Faunon had tried to convince them otherwise, but his voice went unheard in this matter. He was convinced that Ivor had been transformed into that monstrosity by another power he claimed lay deep beneath the caverns the Seekers had used as an aerie. Only Sharissa believed him, and she had to admit that part of her belief was based on growing emotions for Faunon.

Up ahead of the column, scouts on airdrakes were flying back to the column. Lochivan rode the lead beast, his own request. The expedition halted at the patriarch’s command and waited for the scouts to land.

“Father.” Sharissa noted that his voice had grown hoarse. Lochivan leaped off his mount and knelt before Barakas. He gave his elder brother a cursory nod and said, “We ride amidst a region soaking in untapped power.”

“I told you that,” Faunon could not help pointing out. So much of what he said went through the ears of his captors and out into the heavens. The elf turned to Sharissa and, with a wry smile, asked, “Why did they bother to bring me along if they won’t believe anything I say?”

Reegan twisted around in his saddle. “Be silent!”

The sorceress knew that Faunon was taking risks every time he spoke out, especially when he was near Reegan. Perhaps because he desired her so much, the heir apparent was the first one to take note of the link between Sharissa and the prisoner. The huge Tezerenee was jealous.

Lochivan continued. “We saw little sign of recent avian activity, but we found several Seekers who had died at one point or another. It appears that they were fighting among themselves.”

“Indeed?” Barakas stroked his beard and sank into deep thought. Lochivan, waiting for the sign to continue, absently scratched at his throat.

“We can ride right in and take over,” Reegan suggested with his usual lack of timing and thought. Sharissa almost felt sympathy for him.

The patriarch only shook his head. “Do not be absurd again. There have to be Seekers about. Not all of them would be so obliging as to flee or die for our sakes. If we had charged in, swords ready and magic flying, we would probably be dead now. This is still their domain for a time. They will defend it to their utmost.”

“We cannot stay here until we’ve rooted them all out of the rocks,” the heir protested. “That might take years.”

“That I agree with.” The Lord Tezerenee tapped the side of the shadow steed’s horrible prison as he pondered a decision. He ceased the tapping and eyed the box with new interest. “Perhaps there is a more efficient way.”

Sharissa urged her mount closer to the patriarch, her heart sinking as what Barakas might be plotting occurred to her. “Haven’t you put him through enough? Isn’t that box pain enough for him to endure?”

“This should be relatively painless, I think.”

“You know what I mean!”

“More lives will be saved by this in the long run, my dear Sharissa,” Barakas replied, his smile as false as his words. “At least… Tezerenee lives.”

He lifted the box so that it rested in one arm and ran his hand over it, repeating the same pattern he had earlier, albeit in such a manner that it could be performed with a single hand, not two. Sharissa could sense the bond that tied the Tezerenee lord to the spell and thus Darkhorse to him. She still had no idea how to free the ebony stallion from it, and that was what held her back from escape. Barakas was by no means an opponent she could hope to overcome by direct action. Only by biding her time would she have a chance-but when would that be? The sorceress had no intention of waiting until she was married and bearing the children of Reegan. The very thought stirred her to renewed determination. Perhaps at some point on this very expedition Sharissa would find a means of solving her troubles.

She could only hope.

Barakas lifted the lid.

A wave of darkness rushed forth, almost as if the patriarch had unleashed night upon day. Yet, this darkness screamed its pleasure and fear, screamed wordlessly as it slowly coalesced into the familiar form of Sharissa’s tormented friend.

“Movement! Sound! Sight! By the ungodly Void, I am free of it again! Free!”

A few of the Tezerenee shifted in nervousness, fully aware of what the overwhelming creature before them could do if allowed full will. Barakas and those of his sons who rode with the column sat in relaxed silence, fully confident in the patriarch’s hold on the eternal.

His initial thrill at being released from the torturous container abating, Darkhorse glared at his armored keeper. Even Lochivan, who now stood beside the drake his father rode, and Reegan found other things to contemplate rather than meet those cold eyes. Barakas, on the other hand, met them with the same commanding indifference that he met most other things with. He knew very well who held sway here, and all of the eternal’s staring would not lessen the truth of that.

“What do you want of me?” the shadow steed bellowed. His front hooves tore at the earth below. Sharissa did not doubt that he wished it was the clan master beneath those heavy hooves.

“I have a task for you, one that should prove simple considering your abilities.”

“Barakas, please don’t do this to him!” the sorceress called, her pride a forgotten thing in the importance of the moment.

The patriarch turned and studied her briefly. Although the dragonhelm hid most of his features, she could hear the disdain in his words. “Do not demean yourself, Lady Sharissa. A good warrior makes use of all weapons available to him, and I would be remiss if I did not use one of my greatest. He will ensure that no harm comes to you.”

“To her?” Darkhorse paused in his kicking. He looked from the patriarch to Sharissa. “What threatens her?”

“Nothing, Darkhorse! He-”

A gauntleted hand touched the lid of the box, causing the demon steed to freeze and Sharissa to quiet almost instantly. “She rides with us into the interior of this mountainous region. I cannot guarantee her safety should we be attacked. You know the strength of the creatures who control this domain. Terrible it is, wouldn’t you say?”

Darkhorse laughed, but there was little defiance left in him. He had been nearly broken by the periods of imprisonment in the box. “I served you in such a way earlier, monstrous one! I… I told you of those creatures, the elves”-he indicated an alert Faunon-“and where they could be found. Your sorcery, then, was not sufficient for the task! I gave you lives I had no right to give!”

A nod was the only acknowledgment he received from the lord of the Tezerenee. “This should prove much easier and more fulfilling, then. These are Seekers, creatures of the kind who attacked and captured your old companion, Dru Zeree. These are the creatures who would do harm to his daughter. They make no exceptions; her life means as little to them as my own does. If we were attacked, it will be difficult to keep an eye on her.”

“I have my own power with which to battle them,” she reminded the two. “If it comes to a struggle, I will fight them. I do not want needless deaths.”

Despite her assurances, the ebony stallion wavered more. “You have not seen them as I have. They mean little to my power, but you… you lack my resilience.”

“So she does,” Lochivan agreed, aiding his parent in the Tezerenee effort. Barakas gave a slight shake of his head that Sharissa noticed. He needed no aid in this matter, she knew. The patriarch held all the trumps.

“I gave you the elves because I feared for her… and I feared that cursed creation of yours! Do not ask me to add to my sins! If they come for you, then I will take them!”

“There was a time when you would have taken Dru Zeree. Do you remember that?” The Lord Tezerenee’s hand toyed with the lid.

“I did not know better then!” Darkhorse’s head was bowed. Sharissa knew what he was recalling. A simple yet powerful being existing in the regions of the Void, the eternal had no concept of life and death. Absorbing the few outsiders he came across in the endless limbo had meant nothing. Only after his time with her father did Darkhorse begin to comprehend the value of one’s existence. If he or those he cared for were attacked, the stallion would fight. To kill those who did not even know of him, however…

“You have your choice, of course. I would be minded to let you remain out if you perform well, but if I cannot trust you to even protect one you profess to care for, I see no reason to leave you free. Who knows what havoc you might cause. Yes, perhaps returning you to the box until the day comes when I might find a task worth the trouble of summoning you again-”

Barakas began to tilt the open box in the direction of Darkhorse. To Sharissa’s shock and dismay, she saw that her father’s old companion was quivering with fear. He had even grown a bit distorted, as if his fright were so great it even interfered with his ability to hold shape.

“There is no need for that.”

His voice, for all its deep rumble, was meek and abashed. Darkhorse stared at the ground beneath him, unwilling to look at those before-especially her. Sharissa shook her head, and tears ran down her cheeks.

“I will find these Seekers for you… and eliminate their threat.”

A beatific smile crossed the patriarch’s half-hidden visage. “Thank you. I see no reason why you cannot begin now. Do you?” He pointed at the mountains far ahead. “I want you to search there, near our destination. Search the northern region until I summon you back.”

Darkhorse shook his head, sending his mane flying. He seemed taken aback by something. “But that leaves-”

“I have given you your task. I want it performed as I said. No rebellion. Nothing will happen to anyone here if you obey me to the letter. I promise you that.”

The demon steed snorted. “You are more foul than anything spawned among the endless realms I crossed during my now-regretted search for this accursed world.”

“Yes, we must talk of those places when this realm is secured. Now, go!”

Darkhorse dipped his head in a mocking salute. “I am your servant, dragon-lord.”

Rearing, the ebony stallion turned and raced off. Sharissa watched the receding figure, then turned to Faunon for support. The elf wore a dour look. He did not seem that sympathetic to Darkhorse’s plight.

“Faunon, I-”

“They died because of him. That is what he said.”

“It was his doing!” She pointed an accusing finger at Barakas, who was turning to watch their antics with mild amusement. Many of the other Tezerenee were watching, too, but Sharissa did not care. She would say what she had to say. If Faunon abandoned her because he could not accept Darkhorse’s earlier actions, then the sorceress would be alone in her efforts. That might be an obstacle she could overcome, but his absence would create an even worse problem for her.

You are too romantic to be a Vraad, her father had once told her. Perhaps so, but she felt no reason to change, even if it meant hurt.

“There will be time for discussion later,” Barakas interrupted, evidently deciding there were better things to do.

Sharissa quieted, hoping that Faunon would see things clearer if he had time to let his emotions cool. He might then see what fear could do to even the bravest of creatures. The elf did not know Darkhorse; he could not see the child that the eternal was. Recalling her own youth, not that distant in the past, Sharissa knew the limits of a child, even as strong a one as the dweller from the Void.

Ahead of them and high in the sky, the dark form soared out of sight.

Securing the box, Barakas told Reegan, “We move out now. The confusion will be to our advantage.”

“Yes, Father.” The heir turned and signaled to the column.

The Tezerenee readied their weapons and spells. Lochivan rejoined the scouts, who, once he was settled on his steed, urged their mounts into the air. Lochivan’s band circled the column twice and then spread out ahead of it.

“We are in the company of madness,” Faunon whispered.

Tilting her head just enough to see him, Sharissa once more tried to explain Darkhorse’s apparent weakness of spirit to the elf. He cut her off with a look and whispered, “The anger was more for their benefit. I understand all too well the limits one faces. If not for your suggestion, I would have likely broken soon, anyway. These dragon men are very skilled at what they do, especially the pleasant one.”

She glanced up at the tiny figures of Lochivan and his airdrake. “I once thought I knew the true man.”

Faunon grimaced. “You probably do. His pleasant attitude is no game, so far as I saw. He would probably smile while he cut your throat if something amused him.”

“That’s-” The Vraad was about to say that the elf’s words were cruel, but then she recalled her most recent encounters with Lochivan. If it benefited the clan and his father, Lochivan would have indeed cut her throat, all the while explaining that he hated to do it but there was no choice in the matter. His lord and master had ordered him to do it, and thus there was no room for argument.

An invisible wave struck Sharissa. She moaned and nearly lost her grip on the reins. Her mind was on fire, and she had a great urge to unleash her power at random if only because it was what burned her.

To her side, Faunon shouted, but she could not understand his words. Several Tezerenee were also shouting, one of them the patriarch himself. The pain-riddled enchantress put a hand to her head, but the pressure within was too much. She started to slide to her right. Part of her knew that if she fell from her drake she would be trampled by one of the others, for the reptilian mounts had grown skittish, but Sharissa lacked the concentration to maintain her grip.

An arm caught her before the sorceress could slip very far. At first she thought it was Faunon, and so she smiled. Only when things came into focus did she see that it was Reegan who had saved her. He had backed up his mount and put himself between the two captives. Over his shoulder Sharissa could see Faunon burning a hole with his eyes through the Tezerenee’s wide back.

“Are you well?” he asked, genuine concern tempering his otherwise gruff voice.

“Yes… I am.” She disengaged herself from his grip as quickly as she was able, but not before his hand slid down her side a bit. Her smoldering expression made him release her that much quicker, and he immediately urged his drake forward. Reegan did not look back even when he was once more near his father.

“I tried to get to you,” Faunon informed her, their mounts once more side by side. Bound to his animal by the magical chains, his mobility was limited. “But he was over here as soon as it hit us. I was lucky he did not push me off my animal! His eyes carried that intention!”

“What… what happened to us?”

“The demon has met the enemy,” Barakas declared. He gazed back at the young Zeree with excitement radiating in his every movement, every breath. “The first blow has been struck, I think.”

A second later, a blue light flashed in the distance. It was bright but brief.

The patriarch turned back to see what startled his people so, but missed the light. Reegan informed him of what had happened. Barakas nodded.

“We can expect more such waves and probably worse before this is over.”

“They might kill him!” Sharissa raged. “You were able to capture him! What happens if they kill or capture him?”

A shrug. “Then it will amount to the same thing. If he’s captured, I can hardly let him be turned on us, especially you. I think your black friend would agree with me on that.”

She pulled back in shock at his response. “You’ll kill him?”

“Eliminate the threat to our security, yes. Darkhorse would never want to bring harm to you. He would prefer my way, rest assured.”

From another point nearer to the column but to the left of the previous location, a rumble and minor explosion brought renewed silence to the Tezerenee. Sharissa was both relieved and dismayed by the second blast; it meant that Darkhorse still survived, but it also meant that he had probably killed for her. If the Seekers lived in such a weakened state as the sorceress had been led to believe from the evidence, then it was possible that they might have left the expedition alone. Not so now. Now, there would most definitely be an attack. The avians would know that Darkhorse was controlled by the Tezerenee, and if they could not destroy the weapon, they might be able to destroy the one who unleashed it instead.

It was apparent that Barakas thought the same. He ordered his men to even greater caution, if that was possible. As swift and accurate as the shadow steed was, he would not find all of the Seekers. They were too skilled, too crafty for that, even if they were mere reflections of their former might.

The column renewed its steady crawl toward the caverns. According to Lochivan, the late Rendel’s notes had indicated that his brother had titled the mountain Kivan Grath. That had brought a harsh laugh from Faunon, who understood the meaning of the name.

“Kivan Grath,” he had announced in grandiose tones. “‘The Seeker of Gods’! How very, terribly true!”

Asked to explain, the captive elf returned to his tale of ancient sorcery and some dark thing now lurking in the depths of the underground caverns perfo-rating the mountain.

The selfsame mountain had been in sight for the past few days, looming over even its taller neighbors by quite some height, but now it was nearly the only thing they could see before them. Regardless of whatever else lay in sight, Kivan Grath overwhelmed the scene. It was still hours away, but a casual glance might lead one to believe that no more than a single hour would be needed to reach it. The leviathan’s size wreaked havoc on perspective. Everyone had trouble believing it could be so tall; they were more willing to believe that it must be closer than the patriarch had estimated.

A second wave of random magical force washed over the riders, but this time they were at least prepared for its coming if not its intensity. It was terrible enough that the land here radiated a power of its own; the forces unleashed by both the Seekers and Darkhorse added a new dimension of fear. So far, the only effect was a twisting, churning sensation that touched every spellcaster-and that included most of those assembled for the expedition. The longer they were forced to endure it, the more chance it might affect them in other, more horrifying ways. No one had forgotten Ivor.

“We should turn back!” Sharissa argued as the second wave passed.

No one but Faunon paid heed to her words, and he was not in any condition to follow through on her suggestion. The Lord Tezerenee acknowledged her comments, but replied, “It will be over soon. The first expedition found only a few scattered flocks.”

She was not satisfied with his response. “What if they hid the bulk of their strength for when you returned with greater numbers? How much better to snare many rather than a few! We could be attacked from all sides at any time!”

To her surprise, the patriarch nodded. “I expect to be attacked-and at any moment!”

“But… you can’t be serious… Darkhorse is…”

“He is,” Faunon said, the elf shocked nearly as much as Sharissa was. “Look at him. He has ridden us into the tearing beak of the bird folk… and performed the deed willingly!”

Turning away from the two stunned captives, Barakas laughed. The sorceress scanned the high ground on either side of them. Some of the Tezerenee had airdrakes, but most had only the swift but ground-locked variety. Granted the Vraad had massive sorceries at their beck and call, much of it the vile but deadly Nimthian sort, but that might end up bringing death to them just as readily as the medallions of the Seekers. As with their former home, this world did not deal well with the old sorcery. The greater the spell, the worse the backlash.

It was interesting-and worrisome, Sharissa had to admit-to see many of the armored figures around her turning to one another with apprehension. Had the patriarch neglected to inform his people that he knew they would be riding into a trap? Had they been led to believe that Darkhorse would clear much of the danger away?

Beside his father, Reegan suddenly straightened and pointed at something in the distance. It was Lochivan and the scouts… but were there fewer of them than there had been before?

“It’s about to start,” Barakas commented needlessly. He looked around in expectation.

The sky darkened as manlike forms filled the air above them.

“To your duties!” Reegan shouted. Tezerenee were already raising their bows or some other weapon. If it came to a physical assault, those with swords and lances would defend against any attackers who tried to kill the archers while they reloaded. Several Tezerenee were grouping together in what was obviously the beginnings of a major spell. Others were attempting personal conjurations. Barakas sat on his drake and waited. Sharissa wondered at his sanity, but forgot him when she realized Faunon was completely defenseless. A well-placed rock would put an end to him.

The avians had the advantage. They controlled the sky and the high ground around the column. They knew the land. While there was room for the drakes to maneuver, it was all open to the Seekers.

She wondered why the Seekers did not just bury the entire Tezerenee expedition under tons of rock. Perhaps they no longer had that ability, considering the numbers who had perished because of some prior spell.

“Why does he not summon the demon back?” Faunon wanted to know. “We would stand a better chance!”

“I don’t know!”

A warrior behind them reached for his throat and gasped. That was all. He fell from his steed and was lost under the milling forms of the drakes.

Archers were already firing. Two Seekers plummeted to the ground, already dead, but most of the others had moved out of range.

Sharissa’s mind was tugged in all directions as the two sides warred on the sorcerous plane. Men screamed around her, but she could not afford to aid them. Instead, she pulled Faunon to her and cast her best defensive spells.

“You should be fighting them,” Faunon counseled. “The avians will not ignore us for long merely because we behave. They will save us for when the true threats have been eliminated.”

A huge form fell in front of them, sending the drakes into a fearful rage. The sorceress was forced to contend with both beasts, but she still managed to bring them under control. The missile proved to be the corpse of one of the bird folk. It had hit the ground with such intensity that much of it was no longer recognizable. Whether sorcery or arrow had killed the Seeker was a moot point, but it raised another danger. With the avians directly above the column, it was possible that even in death a Seeker might take a foe with him. Sharissa craned her neck and gazed into the heavens. It seemed to her that the greatest concentration of Seekers was over their present location.

Lowering her head, the exasperated sorceress again saw Barakas sitting calm amidst chaos. He was doing little more than surveying the scene and shouting out the occasional order. He was waiting for something.

His eyes met hers and she was certain that he smiled, although the helm, of course, made it difficult to be certain. As if responding to her anger and confusion, the patriarch pointed into the sky behind her. Sharissa spun around on her saddle, fearing that even more Seekers were winging their way toward the doomed column, cutting them off from any retreat.

There was indeed a mass of winged terrors racing toward the battle, but they were not Seekers.

They were Tezerenee. Not one band, but two. They converged from the east and west, coming together just as they reached the mountains. While their numbers were not as great as those of the avian attackers, they had height and mass to their advantage. They also had the confusion of battle to count upon. Several of the Seekers noted them, but that knowledge did them little good. Engaged in combat, both magical and physical, with the column, they could not break away without opening themselves up to a rain of death from below.

Many tried just that, regardless of the risk. Seeker magic was evidently more limited, at least as far as this particular group was concerned. Those who turned to flee proved inviting targets for the archers, who brought down many before the spellcasters could take their own turn. A few Tezerenee still fell; not all of the avians were abandoning the struggle. The bird people seemed to radiate a quiet desperation as they fought the humans, as if they knew that they were fighting to preserve what was already lost to them. Yet as their arrogance and miscalculations had evidently unleashed some horrifying spell back upon their own-as Faunon and the petrified corpses had suggested to her-so now did those same faults thrust the Seekers into a trap from which there was little hope of escape.

Barakas had expected a trap and laid one of his own. This was why the expedition had moved as slowly as it had. The patriarch had sent out two smaller forces composed of airdrake riders and hidden them somewhere in the wooded lands southwest and southeast of here. Somehow, they had come just in time, though Sharissa could not recall any signal. She had certainly sensed nothing.

The patriarch, she knew, would be more than pleased to explain later. What mattered now was surviving until the newcomers were able to finish the task at hand.

“Beware!” Faunon shouted. “One has his sights upon us, Sharissa!”

That much was true, but the young Zeree felt no assault. Instead, faint images swirled about her imagination, images she vaguely recognized as Seekers.

“Sharissa?” The elf bounced against her, the only thing he could do to stir her since he was bound.

“No! Stop that!” she warned. “It’s trying to tell me something!”

Above, the Seeker dodged two arrows. It increased its mental assault, strengthening the images Sharissa perceived.

Seekers in a cavern… the cavern the Tezerenee sought.

Her father had told her of the fashion by which the avians communicated with outsiders, but he had indicated touch was necessary for the best understanding. That was not possible, but there were barriers that could be brought down.

“Sharissa! You are dropping your defensive spells!”

“I know! Trust me!” She hoped he would not press her, for her own resolve in this was wavering. What if she were playing into the talons of the Seeker?

The last barrier fell… and the Vraad sorceress was deluged with vivid images of what had been and what might be. The vision of Seekers hard at work on a master spell through which they hoped to rid themselves of the last of the Quel, the massive armadillolike race that had preceded them as masters of this continent. Sharissa gasped at the sight of the horrifying beast, although deep down she knew she was absorbing some of the avian’s own fear and hatred of the elder race.

The spell was not totally of their own fabrication. Another had influenced them in its making. Something made the image blur, and she found herself now seeing the effects of that spell. It had not been a sorcerous backlash that had killed so many of the avians, but a successful but costly full reversal of the very spell. They had realized that what they unleashed would not stop with merely the Quel, and if they allowed it to go unchecked until their old enemies were no more, then it would be too strong to ever stop.

It had taken the greater part of their population to force the-Sharissa saw a vision of fur, teeth, and huge claws digging through earth, but received no name for the monstrosities-into the lands north, where they could be made to sleep until it was possible to destroy them all.

The image blurred again and she was back in the cavern, but her view kept shifting, as if she were traveling through the system of passages leading deep into the earth. The Seeker’s fear touched her; he did not want to have to show her what lay below, but it was necessary for her understanding.

Faunon was shouting in her ear, trying to stir her, she supposed, but his words were so long and drawn out that they sounded like moans. Everything around her had slowed. Her mind had become attuned to the swift thoughts of the avian, who was desperately trying to communicate as much as possible before-

Pain and then total emptiness rocked her. The baffled sorceress screamed, knowing that what she had felt was death. With great effort, she forced the chilling sensation down and opened her eyes.

The patriarch’s second force had engaged the avians, who were trying to both retreat and fight. Lochivan’s mount flew by, though she only got a glimpse of the Tezerenee himself. Of the Seeker who had been trying to communicate with her, she could see nothing.

“He fell among the drakes yonder,” Faunon informed her, knowing who she sought. “There probably is not too much of him left.”

His cold tone received a vicious glare from her. He stared back at her in defiance. “I saw that he was about to die. I have seen what has happened to those caught up in a linking of minds when one dies. Sometimes the survivor goes mad… or simply drops dead. That was why I was shouting at you!”

“He was telling me… telling me…” Sharissa’s head swam.

“Were you injured?” another voice asked, disturbing her recollection of what the avian had tried to warn her about.

“No, Reegan, I was not.”

“They’re trying to retreat,” the heir apparent informed her. Even though there was still combat going on, he no longer seemed to care. Sharissa was more important. Had it been Faunon or Gerrod, she would have been pleased by the attention. Not from this one, though. Never from Reegan.

“They’re being slaughtered,” she corrected him with grimness.

The attack had been, in the long run, a pathetic last gasp by the bird folk, and now they were paying dearly for it. Darkhorse was still out there, either killing them or-and she felt guilty for hoping it was the former and not the latter-dead from one of their spells. She did not care for what the Seekers were, but her brief contact with them had at least made them worthy of some respect. Knowing they could not hold back the invaders, one of them had tried to at least warn them of some threat.

But what threat?

Mountainsides were no longer safe for the avians. The airdrakes ferreted them out and, in many cases, tore them apart without any command issued by the rider. Some Seekers proved more fatalistic; Sharissa saw one female throw herself upon the nearest warrior, even though it meant exposing her undefended back to the other. She died from a drake’s slash, but not before her own talons took out the throat of her opponent.

Barakas was coordinating the reorganization of the column, leaving the bulk of the fighting to those in the air.

“They must have been desperate to pull such a stupid stunt as this,” Reegan added. “I expected more from them.” He laughed for no reason that Sharissa found humorous.

Faunon shook his head. “They were desperate, yes, but never stupid. Not the bird folk. If they did this for any reason,”-he looked at Sharissa-“we will know about it before long.”

“What’s that?” The patriarch was riding over to them. There was blood on his armor from some encounter. He was in a jovial mood, as if something he had feared lost had been found again. Sharissa noted he was breathing heavier than she would have thought. The battle, as short as it had been, had taken more out of Lord Barakas than she suspected he thought.

This was her chance. As much as she yearned to study the treasures left behind by the founders and those who had followed them, the desire was far outweighed by the knowledge that the caverns also held an apparent evil that frightened even the once-mighty Seekers. It had, if she understood the images thrust upon her by the dead avian, brought about the downfall of their empire.

“Barakas, this is our last chance to turn back. If you would just listen-”

“Turn back?” The clan master was flush with enthusiasm now, which possibly meant that he had not been as confident as he had pretended to be prior to the attack. “I should say not! We’ve eliminated what little threat remained to us! There will be no more Ivors now, no more hidden threats!”

“But there’s something in the caverns that-”

“The elf’s tale again? I thought better of you, believing nonsense like that… or perhaps you don’t. Perhaps you’re just trying to spread fear, as he tried.”

“I saw one of the damned birds try to attack her, Father,” Reegan offered. “It’s likely shock or some nightmare cast by the beast before it was skewered.”

Barakas found that acceptable, stilling any further argument from Sharissa with a wave of his hand. “I’ll hear no more of it, then.”

The two captives looked at one another. Faunon gave her a brief, bittersweet smile. The sorceress bit her lip, but knew the cause was lost for now, if not forever.

The Lord Tezerenee had already forgotten her. He turned his eyes skyward, where two drakes were descending upon the group. One was the creature Lochivan utilized, a mottled monster larger than any of the rest by almost half. The other likely belonged to whoever had been placed in charge of the secondary force.

“Ahh, here they are!”

Remaining seated, Lochivan saluted his sire. “Was it satisfactory, Father?”

“Most.” Barakas scanned the region once more, as if afraid he had missed something important the previous times he had looked around. “And still plenty of daylight with which to work.”

The newcomer to the expedition scratched at his neck until a glare from his lord made him pause. “As you predicted, Father, the demon made a perfect signal. We could hear and see his battles from where we waited.”

“Did you doubt it, Wensel?” One hand touched the box. “It might be a good time to call him back, I think.”

Lochivan was squirming in his saddle. Sharissa was certain that he, like Wensel, wanted desperately to scratch, but knew better than to do so in the presence of Barakas. Possibly because he sought to keep his mind off the itching, Lochivan asked, “What are your orders, sire?”

The box was forgotten for the moment. “I want the entire force ready in a quarter hour, save for those needed to flush out the few surviving birds. I want us moving on immediately after that time limit has expired! Do you understand me?”

Once more Sharissa would have liked to attempt to convince Barakas of the danger awaiting them, but once more she knew that he would not listen, that her warnings would only fuel his desire to be there sooner.

Faunon whispered, “Courage. This is something we must go through now. If they are going, it is better that we do, too.”

“Separate those two,” the patriarch commanded, pointing at Sharissa and the elf. “His words have been twisting her resolve. Until I say otherwise, they will remain separated. Lochivan, I give you charge of the elf. Reegan, you protect the Lady Sharissa.”

“Yes, Father!” The heir smiled at Sharissa, who turned away only to find her eyes resting on Kivan Grath.

Barakas followed her gaze. “Yes, there it is. So very near now.” He turned his mount toward the north and the mountain, but not before adding, “With any luck, my lady, we will be camping at the foot of that mountain this very evening! Maybe even the outermost caverns, if the sun holds true!”

“Why not fly there now?” Reegan asked. “There’s nothing to fear.”

“And no more reason to hurry. This is our world now, Reegan. We have all the time we could ask for in which to explore its treasures and shape it to our tastes.” Barakas studied the sun. “Which does not mean we shall dawdle here any longer. You have your tasks; be about them. Reegan, you and the Lady Sharissa will come with me.”

“My lady?” As the heir apparent urged his mount next to hers, Sharissa could not help thinking of the Seekers, who had once ruled this domain and were, in so many ways Barakas could not see, similar to the Tezerenee. They, like the patriarch, had probably once thought that time was their servant, not their enemy.

The avians’ empire had lasted centuries, perhaps even millennia. Now, riding again toward the towering Kivan Grath, the place of the Seekers’ folly, Sharissa wondered if Barakas’ empire would even last out tomorrow.