Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II

by Richard A. Knaak

  “How long have the elves been here?”

  “Thousands of years. We really do not keep track of time as precisely as you do.”

  He took a breath before asking his next question. They were on fair terms at the moment, but he knew that there were areas that she might not wish to talk about. Her skill with the blade had been impressed upon him quite sufficiently. Still, he had a question that had to be asked. “How did you escape Nimth?”

  To his amazement and relief, she appeared undisturbed by what he had asked. “There is debate as to that. Some claim we found a hole in the fabric of Nimth that led us to here. Some claim the hole was opened for us.

  “I think they made a mistake, whoever created all this. I think we were not supposed to be in the same place as your kind, but it took them time to correct that mistake.”

  That was likely close to the truth, the overwhelmed spellcaster thought. “How much did the guardians tell you? They’d indicated that they chose to speak to me because I resembled their ancient masters. I thought that I was the only one they spoke with because of that.”

  “Enough.” Xiri, her eyes closing to little more than slits, related a tale much like that which Dru had suffered through, but less informative. She knew about the old race and how, for reasons she found insulting, her kind had been judged lacking and left to live out their existence in a place where others were to rule, such as the Seekers and, before them, the Quel. The guardians had said no more, not even telling her that they were leaving her with a Vraad. That the Vraad had been left to face eventual destruction at their own hands had long satisfied the elves. To find herself with Dru had come as a great shock to her. His presence meant that the elves had not left the evil behind them as they had hoped.

  When she was finished, Dru told her his own story, including events leading up to the city itself. For reasons he felt were justified, the mage made no mention of the final world, the one in which he had found all that remained of the elder race. He wanted to forget that place. Where the citadel with the ghostly memories had once soothed him, it now filled the Vraad with dread. There were too many parallels to the cross-over and its potential results.

  “I am alone, Dru,” Xiri commented without warning.

  “The others…”

  “Dead. Some during the crossing—the seas between this continent and ours are extremely violent—the rest at the claws of either the birds or the shellbacks.”

  “How do you intend to return?”

  She turned and faced him. In the midst of so much devastation, the two of them seemed so tiny to the sorcerer. He wanted to go somewhere and hide, a very un-Vraad-like reaction. Of course, Dru had not felt like a Vraad for the past twenty years, especially the last few days.

  “I really do not know.”

  He laughed despite his efforts not to and when she asked what he found so humorous, her hand straying to the blade at her side, Dru pointed out his own predicament. They were two strangers in a land that did not want them with no idea how to get back to where they had come from. A teleport across a distance as vast as the seas that Xiri described would have been nearly impossible even at his peak of power. He did not know the other continent well enough, having seen it only as a ghostly image, and blind teleports, especially so lengthy, generally proved treacherous. It was easy to end up in the wrong place, such as the bottom of the sea.

  Xiri sat down. She did not care that the ground was covered with broken marble. The elf sat as if it were the most important thing she could do. One hand toyed with a pouch akin to the one the Seekers had found. On it was a symbol that resembled the sun. Dru was uncertain as to whether it was decorative or representative of some belief and decided not to ask.

  “What do we do, then?” she asked in a monotone voice.

  If she was an example of the elfin race, Dru could understand how they might be found lacking by the guardians. Xiri was mercurial in nature, ready to kill him one moment and walking along with him the next. Her abrupt pause now was a surprise, but not great when Dru contemplated it in comparison to how she had acted in the few minutes he had known her. She was a confusing woman… more so than any whose path he had crossed in his long life.

  “Where were we walking to?” he finally asked. Dru assumed the elf had a destination in mind.

  “I do not know. I merely walked to put distance between myself and the guardians.” A touch of bitterness underscored her next words. “I did not want to offend them any longer with my less-than-perfect presence, I suppose.” Xiri clutched the pouch tighter. “All our work for naught.”

  “The Seekers and the… the Quel… didn’t find whatever it was they sought. That should be something.” The sorcerer knew it gave him some satisfaction.

  Xiri looked up at the spellcaster, who felt uncomfortable at what he read in her expression. “They wanted to seize control of the power that made all of this. They found caverns left behind by the builders of this city, caverns that whispered some of the truth about this world and promised many things for those willing to look for the source.”

  That was what the figurines in the chamber of the dragon lord had reminded him of. They were akin to some of the talismans the Seeker leader had revealed to him through the avians’ peculiar method of communication. “So they found a chamber carved out by the former lords of… is there no name for this world?”

  “None that I know of. We did not feel it was our right to give it another.”

  It may yet be called the Dragonrealm, then, for lack of a better title, Dru thought sourly. He refrained from telling Xiri, not wanting to arouse her anger. “What purpose did the chamber serve?”

  “I do not know. The Seekers control that region. The Quel… no one knows how the Quel learn what they learn. They just seem to know.” The elf rose, stretching her slender legs, much to Dru’s discomfort. He had stayed clear of the female of the species since the idiotic duel that his wife had died fighting. Again, he noted how Xiri reminded him of… of…

  He had tried so hard to forget her death, to forget the pain he had suffered… that Dru had forgotten her name.

  “Is something amiss?”

  “Nothing,” he snapped back. The shamed sorcerer knew his face was crimson. “My memory has failed me. That’s all it was.”

  “I see.” She did, in a sense. He could see that. Xiri knew that whatever had disturbed the Vraad had been very personal. It was a comfort that, unlike Melenea, the elf did not probe the open wound merely for her own amusement. Instead, Xiri glanced up at the blue sky and said, “The day will be gone and we will still be here wondering what to do.”

  Dru hesitated. Their key to escape might lie within the empty square where the rift was. Despite his desire to never return there—and the possible threat of the guardians, who might decide that eliminating an elf and a Vraad was worth breaking their own rules—the rift was probably the only hope they had. Even if Sharissa crossed over with the rest, there was no way she would be able to locate him. Not here.

  They had to go back.

  “I know a way.” When she waited, a slight, patient smile enhancing her smooth, pale features, he forced himself to go on. “Do you remember when I rode into sight?”

  “I remember. Your steed frightened me. I had never seen such an animal. Are all your horses like that?”

  The thought of a stable filled with Darkhorses eased the tension in his mind and almost made him smile. “Hardly. What I ask is if you remember how I appeared?”

  “I did not see that. I assumed you came from behind some building.”

  He had forgotten that no one had noticed the two of them until he and Darkhorse were already riding toward them. Dru shook his head. “No, we didn’t. What you and the avians missed was the rift in reality through which we emerged. A hole, if that brings to mind what I’m trying to explain.”

  “A hole?” She rose, ever lithe in her movements. “You found a hole such as the one my people are supposed to have used?”

  “Not just a
ny. It leads to where the originators of this… experiment… last lived. It may hold the key to controlling everything.”

  Xiri gazed back in the direction of the clearing where she had first seen Dru. “The Sheeka never knew how close they were.” Turning to the tall Vraad, she asked suspiciously, “Why did you ‘forget’ to tell me this before?”

  There had been a time when nothing would have shamed the master sorcerer. Now, it felt as if his face burned all the time. “I was frightened. I… didn’t want to… return to the central chamber.”

  “What was in there?” Her suspicion had turned to sympathy. From all she had likely been told about his kind, shame was not something Xiri would have expected from him.

  Now it was his turn to gaze back in the direction of that terrible place. “The memories of the last of that race. The truth about Nimth. A feeling that the Vraad are too much like them and will fade away even as they have.”

  “All races fade with time. The Quel, the Sheeka, and their predecessors are all examples of that. Even the elves will pass on.” Xiri gave the ruined city a look of contempt as she added, “For all our ‘failure’ to live up to their expectations, we elves have lasted longer than most.”

  “I don’t believe we have to fall. Not until all reality itself fades away.” Dru clenched his fists. “I can find it fairly easy. I could never forget now.”

  “What about the guardians?”

  He met her eyes, found no fear in them, only honest worry. “You’re the one who reminded me we have no choice. I’d hoped you had a way out of here, a way to travel to where my… to where your people are.”

  Xiri put a hand on his arm. “I know the Vraad have come. You could not exactly hide it, Dru. We will deal with them when we return home.”

  She had not said “if,” which strengthened the sorcerer’s resolve a bit, though he was certain Xiri had used the word for her own sake. Neither of them wanted to think what would happen if the guardians, especially one of them, did, indeed, decide the Vraad and the elf could be removed despite the rules laid down by the long-gone lords.

  “You are not so bad, for an ancient and terrible enemy,” she commented without warning. “You might be elfin if not for your height and your odd visage.”

  “And you,” he replied, starting back to the inner city as he spoke, “are not so mystically withdrawn as I thought elves were supposed to be.”

  “There are always those caught up in the wonder of themselves. Most of us have learned to relax. We find we get along much better now. There was a point where we were nearly at war with ourselves, because of our strict, pompous ways.”

  “What happened?”

  She had moved ahead of him, again building a pace he had to work hard to match. “Our elders reminded us of the Vraad and how we were acting too much like them.”

  Dru could only see the back of her head, but he was of the suspicion that his companion was smiling.

  Throughout the return, they sensed no presence other than their own. Xiri pointed out that it was hardly proof that the two of them were alone and Dru readily agreed. He kept waiting for the end to come, for the magical beings to take them up like rag dolls and drop them wherever they had disposed of the avians.

  What had they done to the Seekers?

  Xiri froze. “Wait.”

  “What is it?” He peered ahead, but saw nothing.

  “I thought I saw a shape, elf or Vraad, but when I blinked, it was not there anymore.”

  Darkhorse had said something similar… in the same region, Dru noticed. Who else was here? “Not a Seeker or a Quel?”

  “Neither. I would recognize a Shee—Seeker, if you prefer, quite easily. No, it looked manlike, but incomplete.” She shrugged. “I cannot explain the last.”

  Dru moved with more caution, expecting trouble at any moment. As for Xiri, the Vraad was unsettled by her almost casual manner. It was clear that she felt that at this point they had nothing to gain by stealth. A quick, direct march to their destination was what she obviously had in mind and Dru, understanding her more and more, knew the senselessness of trying to stop the elf now that she had decided on her course of action.

  Before he was ready to be there, they had arrived at the square where the rift waited.

  “I do not see anything.”

  “Did you see anything before I burst into sight?”

  “No,” she admitted. “It just seems wrong to not see something.”

  “If it had been so visible, the Seekers would have found it before either of us.”

  “But would the guardians have let them?” she countered.

  It was one of many questions he could not answer. The sorcerous creatures had likely interfered because of the number of intruders, not the mere fact that there had been intruders in the first place. They had not disturbed Dru and Darkhorse after their initial attempt to frighten the duo away. In what was a somewhat naive manner of thought, they had probably hoped the two would leave without disturbing too much. The mage was astonished at how rule-bound such godlike beings were, even considering the fact that they had been as familiars to their ancient masters. To remain at their tasks this long, with the cracks in their ranks only beginning to form, was astounding. Yet, if the one sinister guardian was a sign of what was to come, Dru worried that the future held even greater danger than the refugees from Nimth had ever imagined could confront them.

  “No one has stopped us so far. We might as well go on.” Though Xiri made it sound like a suggestion, Dru understood that it was more of a gentle nudge. Without realizing it, he had already stepped back a foot or so, as if his deep fear were stealing control of his body.

  “It was this way.” The reluctant sorcerer urged his legs into motion, leading his elfin companion to where he estimated the rift would be.

  They saw nothing save more ruins. Dru began to worry that he had lost the gap, that they would wander this area for hours and find nothing but more rubble. Xiri would think him a fool.…

  “There!” the elf shouted, her voice almost gleeful.

  He saw it now, a tiny tear just below eye level. In that tear was a glimpse of another place, a wondrous place.

  I said so! I said they would return! They must be removed! The savage voice in their minds made both explorers fall to their knees. Dru needed no help in identifying the creature that ravaged his brain merely by speaking.

  Should not! came the voice that the Vraad had deemed the fourth. It sounded reluctant, as if it, too, no longer believed that noninterference was possible.

  They had their chance! They betrayed our good faith! roared the attacker. Dru held his head, trying to keep it from bursting. They—

  Dru’s mind cleared.

  Beside him, Xiri rose, her body trembling. “What happened? Where did they go?”

  The sorcerer shook his head, then regretted the action as the world swam. Of the mental intrusion by the guardians, there was no trace. It was as if they had been cut off… or fled.

  “Something frightened them.” His head cleared.

  Dru and his companion heard the scuffling sound at the same time. Xiri was the swifter of the two, so she was first to turn and see what stumbled toward them. It did her little good; the sorcerer could read the confusion on her visage even as he himself was turning to see what new twist the once-supposedly peaceful world had for him.

  The newcomer shambled toward them, clad in a simple robe and cowl that covered its body all the way to the earth. It stumbled again, walking as if it did not really know where it was going. Not surprising, as far as Dru was concerned, considering it had no eyes. It also had no ears, nose, mouth, or hair… in fact, no markings whatsoever.

  One of Barakas’s golems, larger than before, but instantly recognizable as such.

  How had it gotten here, when the cross-over had been set to occur on the other continent?

  Dru forgot that question, forgot all thoughts, as the faceless golem was joined by a second and then a third.

  Then they
began swarming out of the ruins from all sides, the Vraad, the elf, and the rift their obvious destination.

  XV

  A TALONED HAND thrust itself into his scarred face, making new trails of blood.

  Rendel did not scream. He had stopped screaming after the first day. That did not mean that the pain was any less, however.

  Images swarmed into his tortured mind. Humans in dark dragon-scale armor, at least a hundred. The death of a flock member, who had watched and relayed the information. The realization that these were as Rendel was.

  “So… what do… you need me for?” They obviously knew everything. Why then would his captors turn to him? Did they not know, too, that he had betrayed his kind, seeking, in typical Vraadish fashion, to rise above the rest by deceit? He shivered slightly, both from his anticipation of the torture he was certain was coming and the simple fact that they had stripped him of his clothing, allowing the damp, cool air to play havoc with his unprotected body.

  The aerie overlord pulled away his hand and stepped back while two females brought water and some sort of meat to the prisoner. Rendel had a blurry view of his surroundings, not that he needed it. The Tezerenee already knew what the aerie looked like, a natural set of caverns within and beneath the mountain he had dubbed Kivan Grath. It was the chief aerie of the bird people since their setbacks in a war with what looked like two-legged armadillos, if the images Rendel had been shown were correct. The avians still controlled most of the continent, but their adversaries had a nasty habit of springing suicide raids from underneath the earth that had caused the collapse of more than one of the lesser dwellings of the race. The purpose had not been the death of the warriors; it was the next generation of avians that had suffered. The young, not yet able to fly, had suffered heavy casualties. Aeries could be rebuilt; the future was much more difficult to replace.

  Rendel could care less for his captors’ war. All he wanted was what the leader had taunted him with since his arrival. Just beyond the circle of bird people watching over his questioning were the towering and seductive effigies he had discovered in his research. How ironic that they should stand as silent monitors of the Vraad’s torture. There was power in this cavern, power more ancient than that of the birds. They understood that, somewhat, and he knew that they had been attempting to both utilize what they had found and also locate the original home of those who had created this edifice within the mountain. It lay across a vast expanse of water, however, and so they had no way of knowing how their explorers were doing. He already knew that the overlord was growing impatient. The avian leader had already taken out his frustration on the prisoner twice.