Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

XVI

The Quel did not always think in terms of night and day, a fact that turned Gerrod about more than once. His companionable captors kept track of the passage of days for many general purposes, but sleep evidently was something one did when one was tired and not because the sun had set. Even at night, the caverns were generally lit, some of the energy of the sun having been stored away in crystals whose function mimicked that of the gatherer crystal. This excess energy allowed the earth dwellers to work at their project on a full-day basis, newcomers spelling those whose period of work was at an end.

Now Gerrod stood before the pitch-black entranceway to the cavern of crystals-or cavern of faces, as he had come to think of it. This was his third time at this place, the second having occurred approximately yesterday by his calculations. He felt as if he had hardly recovered from that farce. Five minutes trying to combat the whispering visages, to conquer them, had left him drained, helpless. Only the fact that he had prearranged with the Quel leader a time limit had saved him. It had also, unfortunately, proved to him that he could not succeed in there without performing one particular spell first.

The Gerrod Tezerenee who stood before the fearsome chamber was a different Gerrod than the one the Quel had first captured. Sharissa would have known him. She would have seen the face she was so very used to, the one that, until now, had been a mask only for the last year or more.

He was young again, full of a great vitality that was more than what rest and food alone could bring. Utilizing the chamber demanded physical strength and endurance of the supplicant. Gerrod, loathing every moment required of the spell, had summoned the old Vraad sorcery again, uncertain as to what damage it might cause but knowing he had to be at his physical best for the chamber. Those who had designed the chamber had been more, so much more than the lone Tezerenee. Even now, temporarily young again, he risked overtaxing his mind and heart.

A Quel beside him hooted in impatience. The creature’s call did not translate, which meant that it was merely a hint, not some statement berating his hesitation. Nonetheless, Gerrod knew he had to begin. The longer he waited, the less patient his inhuman companions would grow.

He stepped inside… and back into the world of madness.

The faces began their urgent whispering again. He still had no idea what they were trying to tell him, and this time the warlock did not care. Only one task was of any importance now.

His head started to swim. “Not this time!”

Long, forced strides took him across the chamber. His last two visits were jumbled memories, but he thought he recalled a set of crystals in the wall that differed from the others. At the very least, faces had not stared back at him from there.

Might they be the key to controlling this place?

He was already tiring. Even his renewed youth was not sufficient. A new, wild fear arose within him, that his spell was wearing away. He had wanted to save the rejuvenation spell until death was nearly calling for him; there was no telling how many times he could extend his life span this way. Binding himself to the magic of this world held no promise, either. Extend his life he might, but as what sort of creature? A part of him whispered that his fears were all panic and nothing more, but the warlock paid as little heed to that whispering as he did the rest.

A little further. His goal lay before him, almost within arm’s reach. The whispering grew more intense and he almost paused, hearing for the first time a snatch or two of coherent speech.

“-not bow to me! If they will not, I will raze the city and all its-”

“-and that I should have started all this! Would that I could have turned time back, warned my-”

No! He would not listen! With a deep breath, Gerrod lunged at the wall where the faceless crystals were fixed.

The chamber was flooded with intense light.

The hood protected his eyes for the most part, although annoying sprites danced about for several seconds before his constant blinking dispersed them. Gerrod blinked one last time and turned to see what changes he had wrought. He knew without having to look that the whisperers had vanished. Certainly they had at least stopped their infernal murmur.

For a short time, he could only stand there, wondering if perhaps he had transported himself somehow to another chamber.

There was a world beyond the walls. No matter which direction he looked, save for where the controlling crystals were, Gerrod gained the impression that he was now inside a glass room of sorts. The many facets of the crystalline walls distorted the images, but the warlock could easily make out hills to one side and a smattering of trees near them. If he turned halfway around, he saw more hills and a grassy field in which a small herd of what appeared to be wild horses grazed.

“Where is this place?” he muttered. “Where am I?”

As if in response, the world vanished, to be replaced by a view that-he narrowed his eyes and studied the landscape before him-that could only be his father’s Dragonrealm as seen from one of the moons!

“Serkadion Manee’s bones!” he whispered in awe. The ancient Vraad would have relished this sight. Gerrod had read some of the elder Zeree’s tomes, including one by the long-lost Manee himself. A vain soul, he had shared one thing with the sorcerer and Gerrod. A love of discovery, especially when it concerned knowledge.

“Sharissa!” he whispered to himself, so used to talking out loud for the mere sake of hearing another human voice. “I can use this to find her!”

And small good that will do you! the warlock thought in the next instant. How will knowing where she is help when you yourself are a prisoner here!

Where was here? He studied the vast display, taking into account the slight deviations due to the multitude of crystal faces that made up the image, and finally found what he sought. A tiny mark much like a dragon glowed near the outermost tip of the continent. It was a peninsula, as he had thought.

“And Sharissa Zeree?” It was a wild hope, but that was the only kind Gerrod knew of late.

As he feared, nothing happened.

“Perhaps if I picture her.” He thought it would be an impossible task, so rarely had he seen her in the past few years, but her face and form proved quite distinct from the moment Gerrod concentrated. Her flowing silver-blue hair, the perpetual smile that was caused by the peculiar yet haunting curve at each end of her mouth, the bright, inquisitive eyes that glittered so much more than those of other Vraad…

“Dragon’s blood!” The poetic touches to his thoughts were ousted before the truth of them became too much. He succeeded in keeping his imagination to the more mundane, picturing her as best he could and thinking location… location… in so adamant a way that the other, more private thoughts could not gain a foothold again.

The panoramic display before him clouded… and became a dark cavern so overwhelming that Gerrod forgot for a moment that he was not standing within it, but only viewing it from afar.

Better…

The cavern scene vanished as Gerrod’s sudden panic at the ghostly whisper in his mind made him think of escape. No new image replaced the old; the crystalline walls remained cloud-filled.

“Who is that?” he shouted.

There was no response; he had hardly expected one, but had tried nonetheless. He shook his head, thinking of the whisperers and how they still intruded in his thoughts even though they had vanished. His imagination was plaguing him, nothing more. Gerrod kept expecting to hear their voices, so it was not surprising that he should conjure one up now and then.

Satisfied that the voice was no more than his own musings, the warlock returned to the task at hand. Soon, the Quel would work themselves up enough to send one of their own in to retrieve him. He wanted progress before that time, either something to give to them to prove he was aiding their cause or enough knowledge that he could utilize this massive artifact to find and flee to Sharissa.

He returned to the controlling crystals and, with great respect, touched them. His thoughts on the young Zeree, Gerrod was not surprised when the clouds dwindled away and he found himself staring at the mouth of a cavern.

“Better,” Gerrod whispered, unconsciously mimicking the fanciful voice. The basic manipulations were surprisingly easy to understand once you knew about the controls, the hooded Vraad noted. Why should they make it too complicated? It would only make using it frustrating. And here I was a moment ago fearing I might never learn anything!

Gerrod was not overwhelmed by his success. Anyone with even a basic knowledge of the workings of crystal sorcery would have been able to accomplish what he had. Still, better that he had found it rather than his father or one of his brethren… or just about any other Vraad other than the Zerees, for that matter.

“This is a cavern, yes, but show me where…” He smiled as the map returned, indicating that the place in question was… was far to the northeast! “Only two-thirds of a continent away! A good thing I didn’t end up in the sea with such accuracy as that!”

Mountains. A vast northerly chain of mountains. His brother, Rendel, had made some notes about these mountains, especially one in particular. Rendel, as secretive as any Vraad, had never written why the one mountain, Kivan Grath it had been named, was so important to him. Anyone who knew him, however, such as Gerrod or his father, understood that even the slight references indicated something of great import. That there were also mentions of Seekers and history in that same passage, albeit in seemingly unconnected paragraphs, was enough for the warlock.

“Your treasure trove,” he muttered. “The place you abandoned your clan for!” It had to be… but if Sharissa was there, then that meant that the Tezerenee were there also. That, of course, meant his father.

Now, more than ever, he had to find a way to reach Sharissa. The secrets of the founders were not something to be left to the imaginative if single-purposed mind of his progenitor.

Another, simple touch of the controls…

Where had that thought come from? His hands moving as if directed by another, Gerrod slowly reached for the master crystals. Was there a way to travel from one location to the other? Nothing in the chamber seemed affected by the devices of the Quel, but he had been afraid to attempt any sorcery of his own, for fear it would touch him more than he desired. He still distrusted utilizing the magic of either torn Nimth or this world, but using the crystal chamber’s power would not, the warlock believed, affect him since it did not require any part of him save simple thought.

There were other considerations that might have contradicted his suppositions, but desperation made him ignore them as he touched the first of the gemstones.

The familiar hooting of a Quel made him pull his hands back.

At the mouth of the chamber, the Quel leader, the only one willing to risk himself, stood staring at the sight before him. His animal features were partly covered by a metal helm that covered both ears completely and left only narrow slits for the eyes. A thick coil of rope was bound about the waist of the behemoth and stretched beyond the entranceway, enabling those without to pull their ruler to safety once he had his prize-Gerrod himself.

“Not yet,” he called, trying to act calm, even disgusted. If the Quel could be convinced to leave him be for a bit longer.

With great effort, the massive beastman turned and peered at him. Gerrod still did not know what it was that affected the Quel so, but the lead helm was the only way they could even tolerate the cavern for more than a few moments. Unfortunately for them, even the helm had only limited protection.

From what he had learned to read in the posture of his underground acquaintances, the Quel was in shock. What the newcomer saw was hardly what he had expected to see. There was no sending by the Quel ruler; he might have seemed literally dead on his feet if Gerrod had not been able to make out his breathing.

Act!

The thought was overwhelming, not that the frantic Tezerenee needed much urging. He was already thinking that the chamber itself was a certain sign of the progress he had made-progress that should have been immediately brought to the attention of his hosts. Turning back to the controlling crystals, Gerrod fumbled with them.

He heard the Quel stir behind him, hooting a warning that the Vraad paid no attention to. Gerrod fought desperately for domination of his hands; they strived to move in unfamiliar patterns, as if they, not he, knew what was best.

The Quel was not armed, which gave Gerrod a few more precious seconds, but the moment the huge, armadillolike beast was within arm’s reach, the warlock was dead and both of them were quite aware of that notion.

Hearing the heavy footfalls, the snarling Vraad relinquished his claim on his own hands and let them play across the pulsating gems.

The chamber grew blindingly brilliant again. Gerrod, prepared for either this or death from the neck-shattering blow caused by a Quel arm, closed his eyes.

A shrill, jagged shriek tore at his eardrums.

When the light faded and he still found himself among the living, the Vraad cautiously opened his eyes.

He was in a cavern, but not the crystalline one.

Stunned, he spun in a circle and scanned his surroundings with fish eyes. This was no image conveyed by a fantastic magical array of crystals; this was a very real and very familiar cavern. The one, in fact, where Sharissa awaited rescue.

Where is she, then? he asked himself, knowing better than to speak out or make any other sort of noise that would attract his former clan. And what do I do when I find her? Fight the combined talents of my father, brothers, sisters, cousins, and every gifted outsider they’ve dragged along?

It had, Gerrod discovered in horror, never truly occurred to him that he might actually arrive at this point. To be certain, he had assumed he would, but other than materializing, grabbing Sharissa Zeree from those who guarded her, and whisking the slim, beautiful sorceress away, the warlock had never given any consideration to a workable plan. Now, this close, he needed one desperately.

A dim light from a crack in the cavern ceiling kept him from standing in total darkness, but Gerrod decided to risk things further by supplying himself with illumination of his own. A spell of such insignificance, even though it was of Vraad sorcery in origin, could hardly affect him, could it?

He refused to consider the matter and flicked his fingers. A tiny blue flame burst into life in his palm. Despite its size, its light spread far enough to let him see more clearly what might lurk nearby. Gerrod took in his surroundings again, grateful that there appeared to be no horrific change. The cavern walls were still filled with shadows, but nothing capable of hiding some monstrous subterranean creature. The satisfied Vraad began walking around searching for a direction in which to travel.

What he found first was the Quel leader-what remained of him.

A rise had hidden him from view, but, now revealed, he was a ghastly reminder to Gerrod of what sorcery could do to those careless or accidentally caught at the fringe.

Even in the tiny blue light, the back of the Quel glittered, a tiny celestial map of twinkling stars. The shell was the only part of the earth dweller that had not been brutally ravaged by the ruler’s unexpected passage. Gerrod turned away briefly at the sight of the head, a spreading wreckage of metal and flesh. One of the Quel’s arms had been torn off and scattered somewhere out of sight. The legs were twisted over the shell as those of a rag doll might have been but not any way in which a creature with bones would have liked to experience.

Bits of rope still remained, causing the warlock to wonder what the other Quel might be thinking.

“I’d like to say I’m sorry about the sudden departure and its cost to you,” he muttered at the tattered corpse. “But the truth is that I’m not.” The pale Vraad contemplated the remains before him and added, “It could have been quicker and less disgusting, I suppose.”

Seeing the Quel had altered something within Gerrod. He had been reminded of his own mortality once too often in the past fifteen years. Not only did he face death from his present course of action, but every use of Vraad power tore at both him and the land within which he was forced to abide. Why exactly the Quel had suffered such a fate and he had not only added to his fears. How could he hope to save Sharissa when he did not even know how to save himself?

The hooded Tezerenee tried to convince himself it was only nervousness that played on his emotions, but the attempt to calm himself failed.

I can show you the way to safety… for yourself and those you care for… I can give you… life… forever…

“But-”

I brought you forth from the underworld of the Quel and guided your hands when the critical moment came. I urged you forward when you might have slipped back and failed. Yessss… I am your savior more than thrice over.

The voice in his mind, with its impelling, hypnotic tone, could not be denied this time. It was not a remnant from the legions of the whisperers, whose tale he still did not understand, nor was it his overtaxed imagination. No, this was someone who spoke to his innermost self, who sought to offer guidance that he only now realized he needed in order to preserve himself.

If you would have these things I offer you, then follow my path downward.

“Path?” he asked, though it was a certainty that his newfound companion hardly needed to hear him to know his mind.

My path… the invisible being said.

A cavern passage that Gerrod could not recall seeing earlier stood before him-no more than fifty feet from him, in fact. The tunnel was illuminated, but not by gemstones in the wall or ceiling, as the Quel had designed them, but from a narrow path in the very center of the passage floor. The warlock peered down the cavern tunnel and saw that it continued on out of sight… but not before the passage itself sank downward.

“What about Sharissa? What about the one I came for?”

All will be yours… if you follow my path…

Was there a hint of childlike eagerness in the voice’s tone? Gerrod found he did not care. The offer was too inviting, too perfect in its timing, for him to resist very much. He stepped toward the tunnel.

Extinguish the light.

“The light?” He glanced at the blue flame floating before him. “My light?” Your light… yesss… only then… yesss, that is the way of things… only then can you follow my path.

It seemed such a small, insignificant thing to ask that Gerrod merely shrugged acquiescence and closed his hand into a fist. The blue light winked away.

Now… follow.

He did, not noticing the time as he moved deeper and deeper into the depths of the cavern system. The path was always there before him, glowing with willingness to guide him. Sharissa always remained in his mind, but as something he more and more came to believe he could only achieve with the aid of that which awaited him at the end of his journey. That the notion grew the more he listened to the smooth words of the voice did not occur to him.

Time at last seemed to pull at him, slow him down. Gerrod had lost track of how many turns he had made and whether they had been to the left or the right. That he was ever descending was the only certainty he knew.

A little more… just a little more.

He came at last to the mouth of a cavern. The glimmering path faded to nothing just beyond. From where Gerrod paused, no more than five paces from that maw, he could see nothing but darkness. Pure darkness, as if light had no place being here.

You came across such darkness before, the voice, so very confident now, reminded him. Beyond that darkness was the light of the chamber that brought your release from your captors. You recall that, don’t you?

The parallels between this cavern and the crystal one were not lost upon Gerrod. Steeling himself, he walked the last few steps and passed through into the cavern.

It was still as black as Darkhorse’s body-and almost as unnerving.

“Where are you?”

Here.

Ahead of him, the warlock caught a glimmer of something moving, something that glowed in flashes, as if not all there. It had a vague shape, somewhat animalistic in nature, but which animal Gerrod found it impossible to say. More than one, perhaps.

“Who… what are you?”

I am… your guidance.

Not quite the answer that the Tezerenee was looking for, but he certainly could not argue with his peculiar benefactor, especially whenever the comforting tones of the creature washed away his uncertainties.

As they were now. Your kin will not find you here. Their senses will not reach. You are safe.

“Shar-”

She is well. They are confused. I have played a game with them. Your friend has been very useful in that, for the ideas come from her memories.

Again, there was shifting in the darkness. Two burning coals that might have been eyes flared at the cloaked and hooded human, then vanished again.

“This would be the time to strike, to-”

Soon. Things have not yet been played to their completion. Very soon, now, however.

Gerrod hoped so. As much as he appreciated the assistance of this fantastic being, something kept nagging at him, pushing him toward flight. Why? Here, he was safe from his father.

Yesss… safe here from everyone.

The warlock shifted. He disliked having his thoughts so easily taken. It reminded him too much of the Quel.

No! roared the voice. Let your mind stay open! Do not shield it! The sheer force that struck the Vraad nearly toppled him. He stumbled back, wrapping his protective cloak tighter around his body.

Possibly realizing that it had overstepped itself, the creature in the dark returned to the smoother, calming tones with which Gerrod was more comfortable. It is essential for your protection that you do not block me from your thoughts. I will not be able to aid you should you be assaulted unless I can be with you at all times. You understand that, don’t you?

It should not have made that much sense, but, for some reason, it did. Nodding, the warlock relaxed a bit. He was still concerned over many things, however.

“What will we do? How do you plan to rescue Sharissa?”

When the time comes, she herself will aid us. There will be confusion and fear among the armored ones. Trust that they will have too many other things to consider to keep their full attention on your female.

Sharissa Zeree was not his woman, but he could not bring himself to argue the fact, not when there were so many more immediate considerations with which to deal. “The Tezerenee are not weak; their combined might allowed them to cross a vast sea by magic alone. The dragon totem might be only a symbol, but it very well represents my father. He is the dragon, in many respects.”

His words only brought low, mocking laughter from the darksome dweller. Once more, there was a flash of burning eyes and the barely visible outline of some great beast. Each time, the being looked different, as if it experimented with its appearance, seeking the most fearful and imposing.

He is the dragon, as you say… and more so than either you or he or any of his people think! The laughter rose briefly again. Much more so!

Standing alone in the pitch-black chamber, his spectral companion still chuckling, a spark of reason pushed Gerrod to wondering if perhaps he had been better off with the Quel after all.