“I don’t—” Dru was unable to finish his sentence, for Darkhorse pushed ahead immediately after asking the question, despite whatever opinion his friend might have had. The sorcerer clamped his mouth shut and opened his senses as much as they allowed. Oddly, there was no resistance this time, possibly because he was now attempting to work with the land. In a vague way, the Vraad felt the massive concentrations of power around him and how they moved with purpose, though their patterns might have once appeared random. Dru knew he could not be far from the place that Darkhorse had spoken of. Whether he found anything there…
“You are so very quiet, friend Dru! Are you whole!”
A feeling of unease was gradually creeping over the weary spellcaster. It was as if every bit of rubble had eyes and ears and was following each move the duo made.
“I feel like a blind lamb about to enter the den of a pack of silent, starving wolves.”
Wolves.
Dru gave a start. Darkhorse also tensed. “They are concentrating more and more in one location!”
The Vraad nodded, sensing an overwhelming level of raw power ahead of them. Though other structures still blocked their view, he knew that what he and the ebony stallion sought was very, very near… and it was there that the power concentrated.
Wolves.
There it was again! As if the wind itself had spoken!
“Something happens, friend Dru! Prepare yourself!”
Prepare himself? The sorcerer wanted to know how. His senses warned him that the danger lay everywhere, including above and below him. With his present distrust of his skills, how could he even consider fighting back against…
Against the ruins of the city.
It began with a tremor far worse in intensity than that which had signaled the rise of the underdwellers, the armored monstrosities from below. No, whatever caused the ground to quiver so, if it was not an actual earthquake, was far greater than them.
A building before them exploded, but the fragments, instead of raining down upon the two, flew high into the air above where the edifice had stood. Rubble from the streets flew up after them, joining together and forming great clusters. Nothing was spared; mortar, bits of marble from shattered statues, even vast pieces of the tower they had bypassed… all gathered together.
Beneath the Vraad, Darkhorse shied. There was a limit, evidently, to even his bravery. Had he turned and charged off madly, Dru would have urged him on. As it was, neither of them took up the option of flight. The form slowly taking on vague shape had them almost entranced. It stood taller than the great domed building where the demon steed had rescued his companion. There were four limbs, a tail, which was made at least partially from a column, and, if one stretched the imagination to the limit, a head.
Only when it opened its mockery of a mouth, revealing teeth formed from jagged, broken pieces of stone, did Dru identify it as any particular beast.
It was, as the wind had whispered to him, a wolf… more than forty feet tall.
XI
“DO YOU LIKE my home, Shari darling?”
“It’s so… alive!” the younger woman breathed. Melenea’s citadel, what Sharissa could see of it, was awash with gay colors and glittering crystals. Silk was everywhere. Figurines of fantastical design capered and celebrated. A furry carpet that Dru’s daughter was tempted to lose herself in covered the entire floor. Bright candles lit up the vast room they had materialized in, candles whose flames were of all sizes and more than a dozen different flickering colors. Panoramas of women and men competing in game after game covered one wall. The Vraadish symbol of gaming, used most often when announcing a forming duel, was the centerpiece of the wall across from the entranceway of the chamber. It would be the first thing someone saw when they entered here. The symbol consisted of two masks, one crying and one laughing, with the former partly obscuring the latter. Sharissa knew that the masks represented the basic aspects of the Vraad mentality.
Her father had summed it up in his own special way. “When your enemy flaunts his weakness, look to your back. When your allies grow too friendly, trust in your enemies.”
Sharissa was not certain she liked what she read into her father’s definition, but she allowed that there was probably some truth to it.
“Have a seat, sweet thing! Rest yourself. I know how terrible things have been for you of late. There’s so much I have to prepare, anyway.”
“I really couldn’t…” Despite her words, Sharissa wanted all too much to relax, to sleep. Her constant fears, the race against time, and the very dominant worry that it might all be for nothing, that her father might be dead, were taking their toll on her again.
“I insist.” Melenea shoved her backward. As Sharissa fell, the thick, shaggy carpet swelled upward, catching her softly in what was, a second later, a comfortable couch. The soothing fur encouraged the young Zeree to rest. “I promise that I will not forget you, Shari. You may count on that.”
It was too overpowering. Sharissa settled in and nodded, already half asleep.
“That’s fine,” the enchantress said, smiling at her guest. She raised a hand, palm upward, and formed a fist. When she opened it again, a small pouch lay within. Melenea took hold of the pouch and opened it. She reached in and pulled out a tiny, squirming figure.
Sharissa, though a part of her wondered what her companion attempted, could not rouse herself to do more than watch through half-closed eyes. Even when the tiny creature, now set loose on the floor, began to grow and grow, the novice sorceress simply stared. It was as if everything around her had taken on a dreamlike quality.
“Come, Cabal,” she heard Melenea say to the creature, a blue-green wolf already as tall as its mistress. It had fangs that seemed as long as Sharissa’s forearm, and though she was in no state to truly count them, she was certain that its teeth numbered more than a thousand.
When it was almost a foot taller than Melenea, the wolf ceased growing. Sharissa focused long enough to know that she was staring at the enchantress’s familiar.
“I live to serve you, lady.” The wolf’s voice was little more than a deep growl.
“We have a guest with us, Cabal. Her name is Sharissa Zeree.” Melenea turned and smiled at the younger Vraad. “This is Cabal, Shari sweet. It’ll watch over you so that you can rest easy. Cabal will let nothing happen to you.”
“Will I get to play with her, lady?” Cabal asked, eyeing Sharissa in a manner that seemed more suited for sizing up a snack as opposed to studying a potential playmate.
“Perhaps later. I have given you a duty to perform. You will watch Shari at all times, make certain she is secure.”
“I obey knowing my life is yours.”
“That’s as it should be.” Melenea stroked the head of the massive wolf, then stepped closer to Sharissa, who tried in vain to concentrate enough to rise. The beautiful enchantress sat down beside her and stroked her hair. “No need to rise,” she heard Melenea say, though the voice sounded as if it had passed through a long tunnel. “You sleep. Later, you’ll have my undivided attention.”
The kiss on her forehead tickled Sharissa, making her giggle rather giddily. Her last view of Melenea was of the sorceress rising and smiling to herself. The crystals she had gotten from Sharissa were in her hand. There was something not quite right about the image, for the smile had no warmth in it. Dru’s daughter shifted uneasily, rest momentarily put off.
Melenea had vanished by the time she forced herself to look again, but the familiar, Cabal, lay watching her from no more than ten feet away. It had an eager expression on its lupine visage, as if looking forward to something. Its size further unsettled Sharissa. She rolled over so that if she opened her eyes again, they would not settle immediately on the massive wolf.
The masks stared back at her.
Frustrated, more awake than asleep now, the young Zeree squeezed her eyes closed. Of all places, this was the one in which she should have felt most at ease. Here, Sharissa should be able to get the rest t
hat she knew she needed. It was only a matter of letting her exhaustion take over again. That was all.
Lying on the floor, with its gaze ever on its charge, the huge Cabal opened its mouth wide and yawned its boredom. Its eyes glittered in the candlelight, black, pupilless things that never blinked.
Outside, a storm was brewing. Such was not uncommon on magic-torn Nimth and, especially, near the domain of one such as Melenea, who cast spells almost wantonly. There would be no rain… there was never any rain. Sharissa enjoyed the sounds of a storm even though she knew that the storm itself was a product of Nimth’s twisted nature. The thunder eased her troubled mind… and at last allowed her to sleep.
THE STONEWORK MONSTER snapped its peculiar jaws closed, sending bits of mortar and marble flying. It was constantly losing pieces of itself, but new fragments continually replenished its form.
Go! Flee! The words sprang to life within Dru’s head unbidden. He was sorely tempted to follow them, but some deep, arrogant pride kept him from doing so.
Below him, Darkhorse shook his head, as if trying to clear it of noise. The sorcerer suspected that his companion was hearing the same words, that those words had been planted by the chaotic creature before them.
Fear! Death!
On cue, the leviathan stretched forward, snapping its make-shift jaws at them. A shower of dust and fragments threatened to smother Dru. Fortunately, none of the fragments was large enough to injure him.
“They are all around us, friend Dru! One of them has taken on this form! I find it interesting, but also highly annoying! Must it shout within our minds so? Does it need us to fear it so much?”
That was the question that the sorcerer had been asking himself. For all its size and apparent strength, the behemoth was holding back. Why? If it meant to destroy them, it certainly had the opportunity.
Darkhorse had said that one of the unseen beings—they could no longer be simply thought of as concentrations of sorcerous power—had clothed itself in this form. The beings had known about them since at least the huge, circular edifice, yet had not confronted them sooner. That meant that they were guardians, yet as guardians, would they not be able to strike back?
Somehow, Dru suspected that they could or would not. The only question remained—if it was a case of the latter, was there a point that he might cross that would unleash their strength?
“Ride forward, Darkhorse.”
“At our peculiar friend? Little Dru, you never cease to entertain me!” Laughing, the ebony steed pushed forward.
Wolves! Teeth that tear! Mangled bodies! Blood!
The words by themselves would not have bothered Dru, but each was accompanied by images of his corpse—what was left of it—scattered about on the rocky surface of the city. He saw the wolf grinding up his bones in its stony teeth. Despite his attempts, he could not help feeling more than a little uneasy as they drew nearer and nearer to the odd horror.
When they were within what the Vraad estimated was no more than twenty feet of the monster, it collapsed.
The ensuing storm of dust and rock caught Dru by surprise. He coughed for several seconds, trying to breathe in a cloud of dirt. Darkhorse froze where he was, evidently knowing that the sorcerer’s grip was nonexistent and a wrong step would send him falling. The ebony stallion’s grasp of human frailties was growing.
It took some time for the dust to settle, but when it had, Dru’s view left him puzzled. There was nothing before him that seemed to warrant such protection. Yet, this close he could feel the consternation of the unseen beings, the questioning sensation, as if they did not know what to do about the twosome. In Darkhorse they must have sensed incredible ability. Dru pictured servants, much like his darkdwellers, whose ultimate purpose was something other than fighting. The darkdwellers would attack his enemies if there was no one else to protect his sanctum, but they would do so haphazardly, lacking as they did any real knowledge of combat. The guardians of this place, he decided, were much the same.
Wisdom, a voice, different from the first, whispered in his mind. Understanding.
Aberration, came another. Not to be here.
Darkhorse roared at the unseen speakers, shouting sentiments that matched Dru’s quite closely. “Enough voices in my mind! Speak to us or be gone! Come! Are you so afraid of us?”
That was the truth of it, the sorcerer knew. The guardians did fear them. Not just because the two of them had come this far, either. It was because they knew the two to be different, to be outsiders.
Remove them! That was the first voice, the one that had taken the thought of wolves from the Vraad’s mind and attempted to use it as a means of scaring them off. Remove them!
No, the one who had commented on wisdom said calmly. Each of the guardians seemed to have a separate personality or perhaps a separate characteristic. There were more than the three who had spoken, but Dru took these as the more dominant of the guardians.
No interference, the one who had called them aberrations said, almost as if reminding the others of something. All must proceed.
Darkhorse kicked at the rubble, frustrated that the beings would not speak directly to them. The sorcerer put a warning hand against the shadow steed’s side. In his ear, Dru whispered, “Calm yourself. I think they may leave.”
“Why should they leave?” Darkhorse asked much too loudly. The tired Vraad winced, knowing that the guardians must have heard his companion. For that matter, they probably knew what the sorcerer himself had said, so easily did they touch the mind.
No interference, a multitude of ghostly voices echoed suddenly in Dru’s head. With that, the entities withdrew from both his mind and the vicinity. One breath they were there, the next they were gone. Dru could sense no trace of them.
“They have departed,” Darkhorse announced needlessly. “Good! They were hardly entertaining company after the one dropped the fascinating form!”
Somehow, the ebony stallion’s almost humorous attitude eased the tension that Dru was suffering. He leaned forward and stared at the visibly unprepossessing area they had been protecting. He could still see nothing of value and there seemed only the slightest touch of power.
“Do you know where they went?” he finally asked Darkhorse.
“I cannot feel them,” the steed replied.
“What about the region before us? Do you sense anything there?”
“Only what I felt before.”
The tall sorcerer straightened and rubbed his chin, which had developed stubble, he noted belatedly. “We may as well go and see what they thought was so worth protecting.”
“Of course! Did you actually consider otherwise?” Still sounding amazed that his companion had even thought of turning away, Darkhorse worked his way across the rubble.
Dru turned his head this way and that as the phantom steed moved. He fully expected the guardians to return, this time with more than just bluffs as weapons. What sort of beings were they? Certainly not the builders of this city. If they were akin to familiars, as Dru thought they were, why did they remain so long after their masters had turned to memories?
The air shimmered before them, slowly peeling away. It took the sorcerer time to recognize what lay before them and Darkhorse, ever curious, had picked up his pace at first sign of this latest phenomenon.
“Darkhorse! No! Stop!”
The demon horse backstepped quickly, coming to a stop only a few feet from the shimmering gap, a tear in reality.
“What is the matter? I find nothing dangerous about this! Do you fear it?”
“It… it’s like the thing I investigated just before I was cast adrift in the Void.”
“Ah! Then perhaps this will get you to the home you keep complaining I have not brought you to! Shall we enter, then?”
Dru had not considered the idea that this might be exactly what he had been looking for. Whatever lay within the tear was not yet visible. Likely, they would have to literally be standing in it to see their destination. It was still a hope, how
ever, and one that Dru was willing to cling to if it meant reuniting himself with Sharissa.
“Go in.” He tightened his grip and prayed to some of his less repugnant ancestors that he was not making the final mistake of his existence.
Darkhorse stepped into the tear, which seemed to widen so as to admit him more easily.
At first, Dru was aware of nothing but bright illumination, as if he were staring into the sun of the shroud realm. Then, while his eyes were still recuperating, sound returned. The sorcerer had not even been aware of the fact that there had been no sounds until they had returned. With them also came touch and smell. Dru felt the cool breeze and smelled the flowers. He heard the small birds singing where there had been none in the abandoned city.
His eyes finally focused. Before Dru could speak, a voice from below him boomed, “Worlds within worlds! I shall never tire of your fantastic home, little Dru!”
The Vraad, on the other hand, was growing tired of being shocked all the time, though he was no less astonished this time than he had been when he had met his companion, been delivered to the shrouded realm, and discovered the city—was there nothing simple and straightforward in this domain? It was as if someone had designed everything as in a game or a vast experiment.
Where the two of them had once stood in the midst of an ancient, ruined citadel, they now stood at the bottom of a grassy hill on which was perched a beautiful and not at all ruined castle. Banners still fluttered in the wind, crisp and new, not tattered and torn. The castle consisted of spiral towers and a great wall, at least as far as Dru could see, with more buildings likely hidden. The grassy field that covered the rest of the hill was neat and orderly. Someone might have trimmed it only yesterday, so immaculate it was.
Dru did not even hesitate. Things had gone on too long for his strained nerves. He wanted answers, not to mention food, drink, and rest. “We go inside. Now.”
The ebony stallion said nothing, but his laughter cut across the hillside as he reared and charged up toward the castle. They were at the gates before Dru even blinked. Regaining his breath, the startled mage wondered exactly how swift his companion was. If the time came, he would question Darkhorse thoroughly. Now, however, this new castle was priority.
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 48
