In the midst of so much chaos, with humans scurrying for cover and Seekers frantically trying to keep themselves high enough above the danger, Dru found himself wondering what the land itself thought of this. It was strangely silent for being so abused. The mind of the land certainly had to know what occurred and how one of its former servants was breaking the rules that it had once imposed when it had been the individual minds of the founding race.
Perhaps it did know. Perhaps the actions of the guardians were not so revolutionary as they thought. From what he had seen, the ancients had been master manipulators.
It was slowly becoming evident to the rest that there was something unique and unnerving about this searing geyser. None of them had been burned; they were just realizing that the storm of death had never taken place. Instead, the vague shape that Dru already recognized was beginning to draw their attention. Both sides were spellbound by the sight and each knew that the other was not responsible for this.
A rainbow of colors danced about the nearly complete outline of the great beast the guardian favored. It nearly made the form of the dragon itself look mottled, as if it had sprouted from the rainbow.
There will be no more war.
It was said with only the barest inflection, as if the speaker were such a power that this clash was only the least of annoyances. Dru allowed himself a brief, hidden smile. The guardian had a sense of theatrics, a sense of the greatest moment when it could best deliver its message. He understood why it had waited; it had known the Seekers would soon strike, perhaps even timed the encounter with Dru and the others so that they would arrive just a few minutes before. This drama was not merely being played for the Vraad. The guardian was assuring that the avians would have no desire to cross the seas again in a second quest for the secrets of the founders.
As if the last idea had already been transmitted to the Seekers, the avians tried to retreat, hoping, evidently, to hide in their aeries until the danger was over.
The fiery head of the dragon turned its burning gaze in the direction of a tall male avian who had to be the leader of the assault. You know the power I am. I will be heard or even the aeries will afford no comfort.
As one, the Seekers froze in the air, hovering as best they could and trying to seem as harmless as doves. More familiar with the potential of what towered before them, the guardian and the artifacts of the cavern smelling of the same sorcery, they knew better than to disobey so direct a command.
It would almost be best if the lands were cleansed of all of you! The peace would be restored. The balance would be maintained.
Vraad and Seekers became allies in fear. There were shouts and squawks, none of which made any sense from where Dru stood.
The mock dragon looked down upon the insignificant humans. There is little that redeems you, but a bargain has been made to preserve your existences, a bargain made by one who came among you.
The eyes of several dozen Vraad turned to view Dru with new wonder. Even Barakas studied his former ally with uncertainty… and why not? Had he not made the dragon the totem of the clan and emphasized its might so much that over the centuries he had come to believe in his own words?
It is not yet your time here. Perhaps in the future, when you have adapted to the land… or it has made you adapt. You will be taken to that place with the rest of your kind.
Several Tezerenee nodded in vigorous fashion, taking the words of the guardian as god-given law. Beside Dru, Gerrod snorted.
“Serves them right to think that thing’s their true lord,” he whispered with malevolent pleasure.
As to you, the draconian head once more focused on the Seekers. The future will decide your fate. Return to your aeries and work to make that fate one you will survive. These creatures are not for you, nor are the ways of the ancients. Do with this land. This will be the only warning you receive.
Knowing that they had been dismissed, the avians fluttered off in a panicked rout. Dru doubted the creatures would learn. They would probably avoid the continent to the east, but changing their ways otherwise was likely too much for even a deity, albeit a false one, to demand.
Let the one marked by silver lead you to your people and your home, the mock dragon uttered, its words taking on an even more imperious tone, and remember that there are those that watch over this land. You would do well to respect that.
Barakas, despite his fears, was not set to abandon everything just yet. He dared to stalk toward the blazing form and look up into what passed for its eyes. “Blood has been lost here! Blood of the Tezerenee! It cannot go un-avenged! This land is meant to be ours! You said as much! Why wait until later?”
There is a time for everything. Your time is not now. The blood you speak of should tell you that. There is no honor in a wasted death. The guardian then spoke words that were intended for Dru alone. I fear you will have to watch this one after I and my kind have departed from your lives. Despite my efforts, I think he will not let the years pass in peace.
I could have told you that, Dru replied.
The Lord Tezerenee had quieted down, brooding over the mock dragon’s words. It was clear that the imposing presence before him was having its own effect, words or not. At last he nodded. “Yes. I bow to your wisdom.” The huge figure took on an air of humility and knelt. “Praise be to the Dragon of the Depths, who will guide us to our destiny!”
Around him, Dru watched in stunned amazement as the Tezerenee slowly followed the patriarch’s lead. The only two figures left standing were the sorcerer himself and Gerrod, who shook his head at his kin’s actions.
Dru Zeree, you must bring the two groups together. Can you do so?
I can only try.
The draconian head acknowledged his response by dipping low. Then, we move on.
And they did.
One moment, they had been gathered in the site of the Tezerenee’s near-last stand. In the next blink of an eye, Dru found himself standing amid the wooded area near the ghostly region leading to and from Nimth. On this side, the jagged landscape of Nimth penetrated the fields and forest, a spectral sore that the master mage hoped to soon never see again.
There were few other Vraad. Silesti and a handful of those he had designated his subordinates stood waiting. Lochivan was with them, looking quite harried. It was clear that they had been awaiting the return of Dru and Gerrod.
Gerrod had materialized a little behind Dru and behind the hooded Tezerenee were his assembled kin. Though they had been kneeling when the sudden transfer had taken place, the clan of the dragon now stood, save those injured too badly, of course. The instant he recognized his situation, Barakas stepped forward to stand beside his former ally.
Silesti noticed them and bristled at the sight of the patriarch. The other Vraad grouped around him. Lochivan stood as motionless as he could, not wanting something unpleasant to develop while he remained so near to the enemy.
It was up to Dru. He cut off both the patriarch and Silesti as each attempted to talk. “No more of this! Vengeance has never done us one bit of good! Silesti, we respect one another, but both of us have been responsible for things as terrible as what the Tezerenee have done! In their position, you might have acted as they did! True?”
He knew he had been correct when Silesti could not answer. Still, it was too soon to congratulate himself. They might yet be at one another’s throat. “This is a new world, both of you! This is not Nimth. This world will not let you destroy it without it trying to destroy you beforehand.” Dru played his final card, the one that would strike the two warring Vraad at the heart of what they believed in. “Look at the power of the guardians. They move us as easily as we might carry a handful of dirt. The peace is their one demand. Which of you is willing to disappoint them… and to explain yourself when they come to find out the reason why?”
Silesti’s swallow was audible. He had watched time and again as Vraad after Vraad were taken away to the guardians’ chosen destination. There was no denying the power of some
thing that swept up groups of the sorcerous race without effort.
Across from him, Barakas, too, was having his second thoughts. As the one sentinel had said, the patriarch was one who would bear watching in the future. Now, however, he looked from Silesti to Dru and then back to where his people lay dead. He had seen how easily the dragon being had dealt with the avians and how simple it had been to take the surviving Tezerenee and displace them. Yet, the dream of conquest was not completely forgotten, not even now.
“I will not offer my friendship,” the patriarch finally replied. “But I will offer my cooperation. Silesti, it was never my intention to leave the rest of the Vraad race behind. However, it was the fault of my own blood, so I must take ultimate responsibility.”
It was as close to an apology as one might ever hear from the lips of the lord of the dragon clan. Silesti knew that. “I offer my cooperation, too… provided Dru Zeree is the final arbiter.”
Though he had expected that something such as this would eventually develop, Dru wanted desperately to decline. He had performed more than his share in the name of the Vraad race. All he wanted now was to rest. Yet he knew that an uneasy triumvirate, which was what had apparently formed here, had more chance for stability than a simple alliance between two rivals left unchecked. It would be up to Dru to keep the peace, as he had so many times already.
Barakas was nodding, his eyes having flashed to Dru in time to note the sorcerer’s reaction at being chosen for the unwanted position. “Agreed, if Master Dru also agrees.”
He had no choice. “I agree.”
No one even suggested they shake hands.
Dru exhaled slowly, relieved that this, at least, was over for the moment. There were other matters demanding his attention, matters that had twisted his gut throughout the Tezerenee recovery. “Silesti! My daughter and my… my bride. Did they cross safely?”
Silesti shifted his stance, looking more like a child caught at some mischief than a master sorcerer. “No one has emerged since the group that arrived immediately after you. I sent Bokalee back in to see what was the matter.” The Vraad looked embarrassed. “He still has not come back.”
“Not returned? And you left me unsuspecting?” Dru searched for the first available mount. A winged drake belonging to one of Silesti’s new followers was the nearest. Without a word to the others, he raced off toward the animal.
“Master Dru!” Gerrod called. “Wait!”
“Zeree!” bellowed the patriarch.
They were nothing to him at the moment. His success in bringing the Vraad race to the true world and of binding, if not actually healing, the wounds between the Tezerenee and the rest would mean little if Sharissa and Xiri failed to cross before Nimth was sealed off by the guardians.
“Give me that!” he ordered. The stunned rider handed the reins over to him. Dru leaped onto the drake’s back and urged the creature upward. It fought for a moment, uncertain as to what this stranger was doing riding it, but Dru’s raging will overwhelmed it. Spreading its massive wings, the drake rose swiftly into the heavens.
The trip across was a blur, even more so than the last. Dru stared at the transposed landscapes without seeing them. Visions of Sharissa and Xiri, even of loyal Sirvak, were all he saw. The drake, which had begun to renew its struggles when it had first realized its new rider intended on reentering the ghost lands, flew as swiftly as it could, as much out of fear of the sorcerer as of the unsettling region around them.
Nimth welcomed Dru back with a storm that made his own rage a minuscule thing in comparison.
He had underestimated both the speed and the danger. Whirlwinds were everywhere. Lightning dotted the ground with craters. Dru made out what might have been the scorched remains of one or more Vraad, but he was too high up and the weather too fearsome to take the time to look closer. He only prayed that those he searched for were not among the dead.
The haze that represented the worst of the magical storm had not quite reached the castle, but it was closing fast. If what he had seen so far was only the precursor, Dru knew that no one would survive the maelstrom before it died.
Droplets splattered both rider and drake and the mage’s first thought was that it was, against all odds, actually raining. That thought died as his mount roared in agony and Dru discovered that the liquid was burning holes in his clothing.
As he steered the injured animal down to the courtyard, he made out several Vraad trying their best to organize one final cross-over. There had to be several hundred. More than a few would die before the rest made it. He was gratified to see, however, that the remnants were working in as orderly a fashion as possible. They had evidently already suffered the effects of the acidic rain, for most of them resembled nothing more than walking piles of cloth and armor.
How could his estimates have been so off, he wondered. What could have pushed the storm to greater intensity?
Several Vraad spread out as he landed. He handed the shrieking beast to one of those who dared to wait despite the danger. “How long before you leave?”
“A few minutes! No longer!” said the muffled figure.
“My daughter?”
“No one has seen your whelp!”
Dru abandoned both his mount and the helpful Vraad and stumbled inside to the safety of the castle.
“Sharissa! Xiri! Sirvak!”
There was no response. He tried to reach them with his mind. Whether Xiri would respond was questionable since they had never tried to link, but he hoped that one of the others…
Masterrr?
Sirvak! Where are you?
In your work chamber. The mistressesss seek to hold back the worst of the storm! Something has upset the balance, Mistresss Sharissssa says!
Let them know I’m coming! he commanded, already moving toward that direction.
They know.
Dru broke the link, the better to think over the situation. What his daughter and Xiri tried to do was a losing cause, but if they could buy everyone a little more time, that would be sufficient. A few minutes for those outside to depart and a few more for the three—four counting Sirvak—to follow.
He was up a short flight of stairs before he realized the stairs should not have been there. The breathless spellcaster looked about. He was heading away from where he had intended on going. The castle’s ability to shape itself to the whims of its master had gone beyond the boundaries he had set on it. It was now shifting nearly randomly. There was a chance that he might never reach the chamber where they worked.
Sirvak?
No answer. Something kept the link from forming. Something blocked his mind.
A huge something blocked his path. Dru had a momentary vision of teeth, blue-green fur, and eyes that reminded him too much of a lost enchantress before a massive paw struck him on the left side and sent him hurtling against a wall that seemed to form just for the purpose of stopping his flight. The Vraad slid to the floor, his bones vibrating from the shock and his head threatening to split in two. His eyes would not obey his needs and he could barely even make out the closing form of his attacker.
“Where is my lady, sweet one?” Cabal asked in a snarling parody of its mistress. “She must see what Cabal has done to please her!”
The massive wolf limped as it moved, one paw having suffered great damage from a bite that seemed just the size of Sirvak’s beak.
“Cabal could play with you for long or short time, little one! Tell what you have done with lady and it will be short!”
Dru tried to stall, hoping his mind would clear enough for him to defend himself. “How did you get… get in here? Where have you been? We never saw you!”
As the spellcaster had suspected, Melenea’s vanity was Cabal’s as well. “Lady carried Cabal in her pouch! Let Cabal loose when she entered here and then ordered that havoc must be created!” The endless array of sharp teeth filled Dru’s eyes. “Cabal has used own magic to encourage the storm! It obeys Cabal as Cabal obeys Lady Melenea!” That reminded the
beast of what it had wanted from the figure sprawled at its feet. “Where is the lady?”
Now! Dru thought. I have to strike now while its mind has turned to her! He tried to concentrate, but Cabal instantly reached out and batted him with its injured paw. The familiar whined, but had it tried to use its other forepaw, it would have likely fallen forward. Unlike Dru, Melenea had not been concerned with healing her creature. Why bother? She could always summon another.
“Mistake, betrayer of lady. You do not answer, you must play with Cabal.” The wolf opened its maw wide, intending to take the struggling Vraad by the legs and worry him.
Masterrr! Move!
A winged form darted toward the eyes of the unsuspecting monster. The rejuvenated Sirvak tore at Cabal with its long talons. The larger familiar howled in distress and pain as blood flowed over the top of its muzzle.
“Pain! Eyes!”
Cabal reacted wildly, but Sirvak, intent on giving Dru as much hope as possible, waited a moment too long. The wolf’s good paw shot up like a fleet arrow, catching the smaller creature. Cabal brought the paw down with Sirvak beneath it.
Dru had dragged himself to the stairs, but when he saw what was happening, he tried to act. Even now, though, the pain that made his head throb refused to let him concentrate enough to do anything else but shout in vain.
“Sirvak!”
The black and gold familiar had only enough time to squawk once before Cabal crushed it.
“Sirvak, no!” came Sharissa’s horrified voice. She stood behind the huge wolf, her face stretched in terror at the death of the one thing she had been able to call a friend during her childhood years.
Trying to turn and seize her, Melenea’s legacy slipped. Cabal had tried to stand too long on its injured limb alone, and combined with the imbalance caused by Sirvak’s mangled form, the blue-green monster’s front half had little sure footing. It slid midway down the staircase, nearly taking Dru with it.
“Where are you?” Cabal cried out as it tried to right itself. “Come and play with Cabal!”
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 65
