Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

XXI

A dark, fleet phantom burst forth from the ground before the silver dragon.

“Back, lizard! Back or I shall stamp your pretty face into the rock!”

Out of surprise more than anything else, the huge monsters stopped. The silver dragon hissed at Darkhorse and roared, “Awaaaay from ourrr frrriendsss, demon! Awaaay from our tenderrr little frrriends!”

“I think not!” The eternal struck the floor with his front hooves, sending lightning sparks at the foremost drakes. The silver one hissed again and backed away.

“Sharissa! Come to me! You and your companions! Hurry now!”

Their eyes on the leader of the horde, Sharissa and the others rushed to Darkhorse’s side. Gerrod had to lead his father, who simply stared at the dragons and muttered something that sounded like “Tezree” to Sharissa’s ears.

“Be ready!” the shadow steed whispered when they were by him. “If I cannot-”

He never finished. The silver dragon, eyes on the party, caught sight of the great form lying limp across the farmost part of the hall.

“Motherrr!” The outraged roar echoed throughout the citadel.

The silver dragon charged.

“Too late, my friend!” Darkhorse bellowed.

The great hall and its foul inhabitants winked out of existence-to be replaced by a lightly wooded land.

“Praise Dru!” The eternal sank to his knees in the high grass. Sharissa quickly looked around and saw that everyone else was accounted for. She exhaled and hugged Faunon, so relieved was she to find they were safe.

With some reluctance, the two of them finally separated. Gerrod, still guiding his oblivious father around, curtly asked, “And where are we now?”

The area they stood in the midst of was part of a fairly flat region. Far, far to the north, the sorceress thought she could make out a mountain chain, although whether it was the same mountains in which lay the caverns was impossible to tell from this distance. At the moment, she only cared to know if they were safe or not.

“I think I recognize this,” Faunon said, scanning the area again. “I think we may be south of the citadel.”

“Far south?” she asked.

“Far enough.”

“Unless they have the ability to track our magical trail,” the warlock interjected, eyeing the elf in a way that Sharissa did not like. “It was how I ended up in all this madness, tracking the trail he left behind.”

Looking at Darkhorse, Sharissa was horrified to see that he was becoming transparent. “Darkhorse! What’s happening to you?”

“I… fear that I have almost exhausted my… myself. My being. The drag-onlord… was… not lacking in his… his enthusiasm when he punished me!” He eyed Barakas, who stared at the trees without seeing them. “I cannot say I regret his present circumstances! I would wish him worse, but I know you would not care for such hate!”

“I can understand your bitterness, Darkhorse. Don’t think I can’t.”

“Perhaps. That does not matter now. Give me but a moment and I will send you on the final leg of your journey.” The ebony stallion slowly rose, and his form solidified a bit.

She was not certain she understood. “Where are you sending us?”

He snorted. “Where else? Home to your father and his mate!”

“But…” Her eyes met Faunon’s. “But what about you?”

“What about me?” the elf asked, moving closer. In the background, she saw Gerrod turn in open disgust.

“Can you make it back to your people?”

“If I was going there.” He gave her a weary smile. “I thought I was going with you.”

It was what she wanted to hear, but she still could not accept his decision.

“You probably won’t be able to return here! The ocean voyage is deadly!”

“I have no reason to return, Sharissa. The elders were hardly even interested in my expedition. As far as they were concerned, this was the latest in a series of new masters of the land, nothing unusual. They agreed to our going more because they knew we would go anyway than because they really cared.” He cut off any further objections with a long kiss.

Sharissa reluctantly broke away. “Then there’s nothing holding us back. Darkhorse can-”

Gerrod, buried so deep in his cloak that his features were almost indistinguishable, interrupted. “I have a boon to ask of you, Sharissa.”

“What?” Now that it had been decided that they were all leaving, she wanted to be done with the spell. To see her father and stepmother… to live a peaceful existence, at least for a time…

“Take care of my father. In his present state, he is useless to all, even himself. Someone needs to watch over him.”

“And what about you, Vraad?” Faunon asked, turning a critical eye on the warlock. “Where will you be that you cannot care for him?”

“Here. I am not going with you.”

Even the elf was stunned by the answer. Sharissa took a step toward Gerrod, but he retreated a like distance. Finally, she was able to ask, “But why? Why would you want to stay here?”

The sorceress had no way of knowing if he looked her in the eye or not, so dark were the shadows summoned up by the deep hood. “My interests lie here. My studies and such. Besides, my presence will only be a further strain on the powers of the demon horse.” He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant where Sharissa could see by his very posture he was the opposite. “I have nothing I need return to.”

Knowing Gerrod as she did, Sharissa understood the futility of trying to argue him out of his decision. Yet, she tried to come to him again, wanting to at least bid him a proper farewell and thank him for all he had suffered for her sake. The warlock would have none of her thanks, though. When she took another step, he shook his head.

“No time! He grows weaker and weaker, and all of us should be gone before the dragons or something else finds us.”

At mention of him, Darkhorse steadied himself. He did not look at the hooded Tezerenee, but rather at those who were going.

“Where will you go, Gerrod?” Sharissa asked, wanting, at the very least, that much from him.

He would not give her that satisfaction, only saying to her, “I have an idea.” The warlock raised a hand in farewell. “Good luck to you, Sharissa. I shall always remember you and your father.”

“The time has come!” the eternal announced. “This will be our only chance, so prepare yourselves!”

Sharissa slipped her hand into Faunon’s and drew the silent Barakas to them with her other. She met the elf’s smile with one of her own, but then turned to stare at Gerrod one last time.

The warlock was already gone.

“Ger-” she started.

The world winked out of existence-and winked back in the next moment.

“We are here,” announced a very weary voice. “I’m sorry. This is the best I can do.”

“Where are we?” Sharissa did not recognize the region, but there were many parts of the other continent, too many parts, that she had no knowledge of.

Faunon looked up. “The sun has shifted greatly. More than a third of a day.” His tone spoke of his admiration for the eternal’s efforts. “We have traveled quite a distance!”

“This… this is the continent on which… on which your folk make their colony, Sharissa. I regret that I… I could not bring you there, but it is probably for the best. I have no desire to see them again.” He rose, his very form wavering in the light wind. “Now it is time for me to take my leave.”

“Not you too!” Was she to lose everyone now that she was almost home?

“I am sorry to leave you in these straits, but I am at my end. I must go, Sharissa.” The shadow steed dipped his head in his equivalent of a bow. “I must replenish myself, and that cannot be done in your world.”

“When will you be back?”

He almost did not answer, but, seeing her face, the eternal gave in. “Not, I think, in your lifetime. Not even in the lifetimes of your grandchildren, I suspect.”

Suddenly, the woods seemed a very dismal and dark place. “Father will be upset with you. You only just came back into his life.”

A stentorian sigh. “I will miss both of you. Give him my gratitude for his teaching and his friendship. I will treasure them both as I mend myself.”

“Will you return?”

“Someday. Good-bye.”

Sharissa blinked. Darkhorse was no longer there. She felt a sudden urgency and quickly reached for Faunon. “You won’t leave me now, will you?”

“Hardly. They would have to drag me away fighting.”

The Vraad sorceress restudied the lands around them, frowning. “I still don’t know where we are.” The wind blew her hair in her face. She pushed it aside and added, “We could be on the far side of the continent.”

Faunon squinted to the west. “There is a hill that stands out among the others in that direction. If we climb it, we should be able to see for mile upon mile.”

“Climb it?” Sharissa did not feel up to breathing, much less climbing.

“Walk to it and climb it. Both a must, I regret to say, my Vraad, unless you have the will and strength to teleport us there. I think my own reserves a little doubtful at the moment.”

Her heart was willing, but that was hardly sufficient. Sharissa shielded her eyes and studied the descending sun. As much as she wanted to be home, there were other things to consider-their helpless companion, for one. Barakas was even now simply standing and staring at his gauntleted hands-which were still covered in the blood of the transformed Lady Alcia.

That settled it for her. “I have a better idea. I think it best if perhaps we stayed here, rested the night, and proceeded in the morning. We can’t be very close to the colony or else I would have sensed something. Tomorrow, we’ll both be better. Besides,”-she indicated the patriarch. As he stared at his bloody fists, he continued to mumble his nearly incomprehensible litany. The sorceress wondered how long he would remain that way-“I’ve got to help him wash away that blood, if only for my sanity!”

Faunon accepted her judgment and volunteered to find wood for a fire and food for their much-abused stomachs. He pulled out the crystal that Gerrod had given to him. “Do you still have yours?”

“I do. I cupped it when the spell failed. I couldn’t bear facing Gerrod if I lost a second one.” Now she would never have to worry about that. The somber warlock was far, far away and would likely never return. She considered their present location. “There must be water around somewhere. That’s what we should look for first.”

They were in luck. A small stream lay only a short distance from where Darkhorse had brought them. It was little more than a thin trickle, but even that seemed overwhelming to the suddenly thirsty duo. Even Barakas found interest in drinking. Sharissa had hoped that the cool water would snap the patriarch back to his senses, but he merely wiped his mouth and sat down by the stream. The former clan master had not even removed his gloves, so detached was he from everything.

Some sun still remained. Faunon disappeared into the forest, moving with the speed and quiet Sharissa had always imagined his kind capable of. She, meanwhile, started the task of helping Lord Barakas clean his armor. Had anyone told her that she would someday be doing this, the tall woman would have laughed. Now, it seemed like the correct thing to do. The patriarch was little more than a baby at present.

Her efforts were more or less wasted. The blood had already stained and dried on his clothing. She was, at best, able to lessen the horrifying effect of his appearance, but anyone taking a closer look would see the telltale stain on the armor. Tomorrow, when her will was stronger, she would use sorcery to eliminate what remained.

Barakas noted her efforts in an almost casual manner, occasionally breaking from his mutterings, which now sounded like “Prrr…” and “Tze…,” and telling her, “They won’t come out. The blood’s seeped to my skin. It will never come out.”

After she had given up, he returned to his same somnambulant state. Sharissa finally brought him over to a tree and let him sit there with his back against the trunk. She then turned to attending to her own needs.

Darkness was now fast approaching, and Faunon was still not back. Sharissa understood how difficult his task might be, but she still began to worry. Even knowing she was here on the other continent, the sorceress feared that the night would somehow separate her from her last and most important companion. Barakas, in his present state, did not even count. She was alone, for all it mattered. Trying not to think of that, the Vraad began picking up fallen branches with which she could start a fire. Sharissa thought of creating one without wood, but even that effort seemed too much. Besides, she had always prided herself on not depending on her abilities when simple physical work was sufficient. To be any other way went against what her father had taught her.

At sundown, Faunon returned. He had wood to add to that which Sharissa had gathered from the nearby area and, most important, berries and a rabbit. She was thankful that he knew how to prepare it; the thought of having to cope with that after trying to wash the blood from Barakas almost made her ill.

The meal was sparse, but sufficient for their present needs. Sharissa gave the patriarch an equal share, which disappeared into his mouth in quick time. She had removed his helm, and so during the meal it proved impossible not to keep searching his face for some response, but the only thing he did when not muttering was screw his face up in thought again. She wondered what it was he was thinking about. There was a desperation in his eyes, that much she could see.

After the meal, they chose to retire. Faunon volunteered the first watch, assuring her that, as an elf, he could rest while still remaining conscious of what was around them. When she gave him a threatening look, he promised that he would wake her when her time came. Sharissa did not want him trying to take on the entire task by himself. Faunon was as worn as she was.

Sharissa fell asleep almost before her head even touched the ground. The dream began in that same instant. It was a chaotic chase of sorts, with the weary sorceress trying to keep ahead of a dark, loathsome thing of mist that stared at her with a thousand eyes. She escaped her horrific pursuer only to walk into the open maw of a great dragon with Gerrod’s head upon it. Sharissa turned and fled from this monstrosity, only to hear the vicious laughter of the renegade guardian.

The chase went on and on, monsters and memories mixing in haphazard fashion.

When she jerked away, her first thoughts were of the relief of being freed of the endless cycle. Then she realized what had woken her and wondered whether or not the dreams might have been preferable.

“Nooooo! I am Tezerenee! Tezerenee is power!”

Faunon was already up and running toward the patriarch, who knelt against the tree and held himself so tight that Sharissa wondered if he thought he was going to come apart. His shouts became less and less coherent, reducing to the clan name and “power.”

Sharissa moved to his side and tried to get through to him. “Barakas! Listen to me! There’s nothing wrong! You’re safe here!” It occurred to her that he might be physically injured, but in the chaos no one had looked beyond his outward appearance. “Lord Barakas! What ails you? Tell me and I might be able to help!”

“Tezerenee… Powerrr…”

“I think he might be calming,” suggested Faunon. Barakas seemed to be slipping back into his catatonic state. She hated to see that, but it was better than his wild manner. The patriarch was strong enough to injure both of them.

The worried sorceress leaned closer. “Barakas?”

His movements were lightning, even against those of Faunon. Barakas shoved the two of them aside and, with an animalistic roar, ran for the deepest part of the forest.

“Stop him!” Sharissa cried.

“Too late,” her companion muttered, but he tried regardless. The two of them followed the dragonlord’s trail, trying to listen for the heavy footfalls that should have been so evident in the silence of night. Yet, the patriarch was as silent as a specter and faster, it seemed, than even the elf.

They gave up the chase only a few minutes later, forced to admit they could not even find his trail. For the elf, a creature of the woods, this was especially exasperating.

“It’s as if he floated off or simply vanished! I should be able find some trace!”

“Could he… could he have become like Lochivan?”

“Could we have missed a dragon?” he responded. “Better yet, could a dragon have missed us?”

She tried to scan the area, but the trees blocked what little light the moons were willing to give them. “He seemed frightened of something!”

“Likely he was reliving his disasters. That would be enough to shake anyone. He might even have been dreaming of the death of his mate.”

Tzee…

“Did you hear something?” she asked.

“Nothing. I am too worn to even listen. I am sorry, Sharissa, I truly am. If I could find his trail, I would keep going. The only thing I can say is that we could come back here in the morning and see if a trail reveals its secrets to us.”

Where might Barakas be by then? Faunon was correct, though. They stood no chance of finding the patriarch. She doubted the light would change things. Barakas was gone. Gone forever, the final victim, Sharissa hoped, of his ambition to create an empire.

The irony was, his legacy was an empire-and of the very creature he had raised up as the symbol of his clan.

They returned to their encampment and settled down again. Sleep was not so soon in coming this time, but when it did, Sharissa was thankful to find it deep and dreamless.

Tzee…

It was difficult to breathe. Sharissa rolled over, trying to ease the constriction in her lungs.

Tzee…

She thought it was a dream at first, but then it occurred to her that if it was, she should not have been thinking so. She should have been enmeshed in it.

Tzee…

Rolling onto her back, Sharissa opened her eyes.

Her nightmare stared back at her.

She screamed, and was not ashamed that she did. Anyone would have screamed at the dark, cloudy mass atop her, a mass from which countless eyes peered at her. A sound kept echoing in her head, a sound that originated, the terrified sorceress was certain, from the horror above her.

It was the scream that sent it fleeing. She heard Faunon’s voice as he shouted to her and watched in fear and amazement as the unnerving mass rose swiftly and fled into the deep woods. The elf chased after it, but it moved with the grace and daring of the fastest hawks and was gone even before he took a dozen steps.

All the while, Sharissa heard the same nonsensical sound in her head. Tzee… Tzee… The sound did not die away until long after the nightmare was over.

“Sharissa! Rheena, I will never forgive myself for being so stubborn! I broke my vow and tried to take the entire night’s watch! It… that thing… must have come just after I dozed off!”

The sun was just rising, but the Vraad barely noticed it. Though the creature, whatever it was, had fled, she could not help feeling that they were still not alone, that someone else was still watching them.

“I have never seen anything like that!” the elf exclaimed, holding her as much for his comfort as he was for hers. “It made a sound in my head-”

“‘Tzee,’” she said. “It kept repeating ‘Tzee.’”

“That was it!”

“Tezerenee?” Sharissa whispered to herself.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She cared not to think about it any longer. The possibility unnerved her more than the dragons had. She rose from the ground, allowing Faunon to aid her. There was still something not right. “Faunon, do you sense anything?”

His eyes narrowed, and he glanced about the area. “I had not given it much thought, not with that thing around, but… could it be it has not left after all?”

That might be the answer, but Sharissa could not accept it. This was something she had felt before, a familiar presence or presences. Not the guardians, but…

Stepping away from Faunon, the sorceress faced the seemingly empty woods. “Very well! You’ve been polite! You’ve not shocked me! I know you’re there now, so you might as well come out!”

“Who are you-” The elf forgot his question as several figures slowly emerged from the trees. There was no place they could have been hiding. One moment they had not been there, the next they were. A dozen at least, all wearing the same long, cowled robes and moving with the symmetry that only they could accomplish. One might have thought they were all of one single mind.

The not-people, the Faceless Ones as others had called them, circled the Vraad and her companion.

“Sharissa! Do they mean us any harm?”

“One never knows,” she answered truthfully. “I hope not.”

A wan smile touched his face. “Since I have met you, my Vraad, I have been in one constant state of disarray. I never know what to expect!”

“I’ve fared no better,” she admitted. One of the blank-visaged beings separated from the rest and stopped before her. “You’re here.” The sorceress tried to act as brave as she sounded. “What now? Why have you come?”

In answer, the long figure raised its left hand and pointed. They looked.

Like the Faceless Ones, it was standing where it could not have been standing a breath or two earlier. It was wide enough to admit both of them, though that was not what first drew their attention. As ever, it was the artifact itself that commanded the viewer’s gazes. Standing there was an ancient stone arch-way upon which scurried a multitude of tiny, black, reptilian creatures in one seemingly endless race. The gray, stone archway covered with ivy was only one of many shapes this thing had, but each one radiated a feeling of incredible age and the notion that this structure was more than the portal it appeared to be. This was a thing alive.

“My father calls it the Gate,” she informed Faunon. “A capital on the noun. He always felt it was more of a name, not a description.”

“Is it truly alive?”

A shrug. “Was that thing that attacked us alive? I’m beginning to think that this is a world as insane as Nimth.”

The leader pointed again.

“It wants us to enter, I think, Sharissa. What do you suggest?”

She did not trust the Faceless Ones completely anymore. They had an agenda of their own, and she was certain it did not always match that of her folk. Still, she could think of no reason to refuse-and wondered then if the cowled beings would even let her. “I think we should go through. I think it might be for the best.”

He squeezed her hand. “We go through together. I have no desire to be left behind.”

That thought frightened her. Would the not-people do that to her? Did Faunon have no place in their plans? Sharissa tightened her grip and nodded to the one before them. “Together, then.”

Acting as if it wanted to assuage their fears, the leader led the way to the living portal. The featureless figure did not even pause. As it walked through the arch, they saw a flash and then the image of a building that the sorceress had no trouble recognizing.

Her face lit up. “Follow it! Now!”

They fairly leaped through.

On the other side, she paused and took a deep breath. Faunon caught the smile on her face and relaxed. “Are we there?”

She indicated the magnificent citadel on the top of the hill. Between the two and the grand structure was a well-groomed field of high grass and blossoming flowers. Sharissa could not recall a sight that had ever filled her with such relief and happiness. She started to run, pulling Faunon along and shouting to him, “This is home!”

So thrilled was Sharissa that she would later have trouble recalling the trek from where they had materialized to the gates where her father and stepmother had been waiting.

“Theywanted us outside,” Ariela told her stepdaughter. “We wondered why. I often wish they would at least create mouths with which to talk.”

“They might have to explain too much, then,” Sharissa returned. “I don’t think they would like that.”

The foursome stood in the courtyard of the citadel that was the main point of Dru Zeree’s pocket universe. They had spent the last two hours sitting and talking, learning what they could from one another about events here and overseas. Her father had offered them food and drink immediately, recognizing their need for both. Sharissa cast the simple spell herself, wanting to taste the pleasure of having her concentration and strength at more reasonable levels. She noted that it also seemed easier in general to complete a spell here than it had on the other continent. She pondered the theory that the land or the guardians might have had something to do with that, but decided not to mention it to her father for now.

Dru Zeree gave his daughter another long hug. “I thought I’d never see you again! When Gerrod vanished, I wasn’t certain whether he would find you! He was my only hope.” The master mage looked a bit uncomfortable as he added, “I’m sorry he didn’t come back.”

Ariela saved Sharissa the trouble of responding by turning attention to Faunon. “I thought I had seen the last of my own kind. I hope that Sharissa will allow you a minute now and then that I can usurp! It would be pleasant to discuss elfin life once in a while.”

“To be sure. You can tell me what it will be like living among the legendary, cursed Vraad. So far, the experience has been mixed.” Faunon smiled quickly so that no one would think he was having regrets.

“Perhaps you can start that now,” Dru suggested, putting an arm around Sharissa. “I would like to talk to my daughter for a few moments. Not long, I promise you. Both of you still need rest.”

“I’d like to sleep for a month or so,” the younger Zeree admitted.

“Only a short conversation, then.”

Faunon gave his thanks to the sorcerer for all the latter had done for him and allowed himself to be led away by the Lady Zeree, who knew that her husband would relate to her the essentials of the conversation when they were alone later.

Dru turned and admired some of the fantastic, sculptured bushes in the courtyard. So skillfully shaped, the animals they represented seemed ready to frolic. Such frivolity, however, was far from the spellcaster’s mind.

“So the clan of the dragon is no more.”

She walked beside him. “In a sense, the clan of the dragon now lives up to its name.”

His smile held little humor. “I suppose so. I don’t know whether to feel sorry for them or fear for us. We will have to make some changes, and I don’t think everyone will agree to them. Since the departure of Barakas, Silesti’s been talking of taking his followers and establishing a second colony.”

“That would be foolish!”

Dru shrugged. “It would be their choice. The triumvirate no longer has a purpose in his eyes.”

“But, if there does one day come trouble from the dragons…”

“By that time, Sharissa, we will hopefully be prepared. Let us not also forget that trouble might come from unseen directions, too. The children of the drake might prove our allies some day.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Those things? Never! Father, if you had been there, seen Lochivan change and heard the voice of the silver dragon… you’d never say what you just did!”

He steered the two of them toward the direction that the Lady Zeree and Faunon had gone. “The Dragon of the Depths was here for a brief time. It left a simple message, but until you arrived and told us of events, I had no idea what the guardian was talking about.”

Sharissa waited, knowing her father would continue.

“The guardian said that I should take heart, that each race of kings began as tyrants and monsters but only this one can be taught to go beyond that. I asked what that meant and where you, Sharissa, were. The guardian ignored my pleas, though, and simply finished by saying that change never ends and we, more than anyone else, can shape our own future.”

Her father frowned, still mulling over the possible meanings of the statements. Sharissa, knowing that the colonists also faced the founders’ adaptations, understood better, but decided that explaining could wait until things had calmed again.

“That was all?” she asked.

“No, before that the sentinel warned that I should watch the Faceless Ones. Nothing more. I’d almost forgotten that.”

“And where are they?” She had not seen one since crossing. Even the one who had preceded them had not been in the field when they crossed.

“Around. They appear totally uninterested in your arrival.”

“They hide their true feelings well.” She paused and, while he waited with fatherly patience, admired the peace and serenity of the moment. So much had happened and so much was still to happen. The changes wrought upon the Tezerenee might look minor in comparison. Her own experiences had changed her forever, giving her an even wider realization of the importance of the colony’s survival and the place she might make for herself and her family. Burying herself in her work was fine, but it meant she missed some of the more subtle alterations. That would change. It had to change.

The children of the drake have their future, the determined woman thought. Now it’s time to ensure that we do, too.

Tomorrow would be soon enough, Sharissa decided. At the very least, she deserved one day of relaxation, one day to rebuild her strength for the coming onslaughts of change. She hoped Faunon would not regret coming with her.

Sharissa hoped she would not regret coming back.

“Shall we find the others?” her father asked, perhaps thinking that she was so tired that she was beginning to drift off in his arms.

“Let us do that,” the sorceress said, stirring herself and smiling at the elder Zeree. “And promise me that today we will all do nothing! Absolutely nothing!”

“If that’s what you wish. Now that you’re home, however, you will have all the time you want to relax and recover.”

Her response was to kiss her father on the cheek. As they departed the courtyard in search of the two elves, Sharissa thought that between family and the future, she would hardly have time to relax and do nothing after this day was over.

For some reason, it did not bother her that much.