TO SHARISSA, IT was as if her father had become a small boy. He had greeted Darkhorse with an enthusiasm second only to that which he displayed for his own family. She understood his excitement. Friendship was rare among her kind. Only the circumstances of their escape from Nimth had forced the Vraad to treat one another in a civil manner. Many still held their neighbors in some suspicion, although that had lessened since the first turbulent year.
Watching him now, standing among the sculpted bushes of the courtyard and talking in animated fashion with the huge, soot-skinned Darkhorse, Sharissa realized how much her father himself had changed over the last few years. She had always marveled at the differences he made in this little world and the one outside, but never at the changes those endless tasks had performed on him. His hair was a dying brown, more white now save for the impressive silver streak running down the middle. He was still narrow and nearly seven feet tall, which somehow was short in comparison to the shadow steed, but his back was slightly stooped and he had lines in his hawkish visage. The trimmed beard he wore had thinned out, too.
Fifteen years had altered him, but, for a short time, he was again the majestic master sorcerer that she had grown up loving and adoring.
“He had always hoped the dweller from the Void would find his way back,” a strong yet almost musical voice to Sharissa’s side informed her.
Ariela was shorter than Sharissa, which made her much shorter than her husband, Dru. Her hair, like the younger Zeree’s, was very pale and very long, though in a braid. Her arched brows and her tapered ears marked her as an elf, as did her emerald, almond-shaped eyes. She wore a robe akin to the dark-blue one worn by her mate, but this one somehow found the curves of her body with no trouble whatsoever. Ariela was trim, athletic in form, and skilled with a number of weapons, especially the knife. Her aid had proven as invaluable as that of the Tezerenee had in keeping the refugees alive until they could fend for themselves.
“I can’t blame him. Darkhorse is unbelievable! What is he? I still don’t understand!”
“Dru calls him a living hole, and I am inclined to believe that.”
“He has flesh, though.” It looked like flesh upon first glance. Sharissa had even touched it. She could not deny, however, that she had felt a pull, as if the ebony creature had been about to swallow her… body and soul.
Ariela laughed lightly. “Do not ask me to explain any further! Even your father admits that he only hazards guesses.”
Nodding, Sharissa looked around. Other than the four of them, there was no one in sight. During every other visit she had made to Sirvak Dragoth, the Faceless Ones had been visible in abundance. Now, as it had been in the square, they had vanished. “Why are we alone?”
The elf frowned. “I have no idea, and Dru was too excited to notice. They were here until just before you announced yourselves.” She studied her step-daughter’s eyes and whispered, “Is there something amiss?”
In a similar tone, Sharissa replied, “You know how they seem to be everywhere. Before Darkhorse materialized in the city, I came across one that I can only describe as agitated. It hurried away, and when I looked for it I couldn’t find it. Then, when I reached the square, I found hundreds of Vraad but not one of them!”
“That is not normal… if I may use the term in regard to them.” The not-people were watchful to the point of obsession. Any event of the least significance was liable to attract their unwanted attention. An event of such magnitude as Darkhorse’s return should have attracted more than a score. Though only living memories of the founding race, the entities had continued to perform their ancient tasks without fail. That they would cease now was beyond comprehension.
“You chose to return to this place? Remarkable!” the fearsome steed roared. Both women turned and listened.
“My curiosity overcame my fear,” Dru responded. He indicated the tall structure that was the bulk of the citadel. “So much our ancestors knew! So much that was lost when they passed beyond!”
“Not far enough for my tastes! I still desire another confrontation with their servants! They had no right!”
Dru had no answer for that. Sharissa had heard him say the same thing more than once. He had feared that his unearthly companion would be forever lost in the Void or some place even worse… if any place could be worse than a true no place like that.
Darkness was beginning to descend, and the shadows began to shroud the sorcerer. Neither Dru nor his daughter had ever found a plausible explanation for the heavens and the differences in time among the various realms created by the founders. How could there be suns and moons for each? Dru had explained once that the ancients had succeeded in separating slices of reality, so to speak, from the true world. Each realm was a reflection of the original, but altered drastically by both the founders and time. The spellcasting necessary for this was all but forgotten.
It was disturbing to understand that Nimth, too, had been but one more reflection, a terrarium where the Vraad had been raised up and then abandoned.
“I understand your feelings, Darkhorse,” Dru was saying, “but Ariela and I have come to care for Sirvak Dragoth as much as anyone could care for their home.”
“Sirvak Dragoth? Is that what this place is called?”
“I named it thus.” The elder Zeree glanced at his daughter. Sharissa felt her eyes grow moist as he explained the origin of the name. “I had a familiar, a gold and black creature crafted with careful attention to its personality. Sirvak was loyal and as good a companion as any. It helped me raise Sharissa after her mother died. Sirvak perished saving her life just prior to our leaving Nimth. For what deeds it performed for both my daughter and myself, I saw no more fitting memorial than to give its name to this citadel.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I’d rather have Sirvak back… but a new familiar could never be the same creature.”
Darkhorse shook his mane in obvious discomfort. “I understand friendship, little Dru, but love is beyond me! That he was a good memory to you is all I can comprehend!”
The shadow steed laughed then, an abrupt thing that jolted all three of his companions. One eye twinkled at Sharissa. “But come! Let us speak of joy! Darkhorse has found his friend at last! This is a good thing! I have missed your guidance, friend Dru, your knowledge of the countless things abiding in this cluttered multiverse!”
“And I welcome the chance to talk with you, but I have other tasks that require my attention. My kind depend on me, Darkhorse. A decade and a half is not enough to ensure the future of the Vraad, especially as weak as we have become.”
“Then what of your offspring… an interesting word. Did she truly leap from you?”
Sharissa chuckled and was joined by her parents. Darkhorse’s random lapses in the understanding of language was one of the many things she recalled about the creature from her father’s tales. The leviathan was, in many senses, the child that Dru had described. It only proved how different his mind-set was from those of humans and elves. So knowing and powerful, yet so naive and defenseless in other ways.
“I would be happy to spend time with you, Darkhorse, as long as you understand that I, too, have duties to perform.”
“Duties! Tasks! How you must enjoy them, so important do they sound!”
No one tried to correct him. Besides, Sharissa realized, she did enjoy much of her work. There was still so much to learn about their new home. The deep maze of catacombs and chambers beneath the city had barely even been touched. Gerrod’s discoveries, which she had completely forgotten about in all the excitement, now beckoned once again. It was still a welcome change, considering her first twenty years of life had been confined mainly to her father’s domain.
“It’s settled, then.” Dru stifled a yawn. He and Ariela were early risers, often already active well before dawn. The couple always ceased what they were doing, however, when it came time to watch the sun rise over the horizon. Sharissa joined them now and again, but always kept to one side. Her parents lived in yet another
world of their own when they watched the arrival of day together.
“You are weary,” Darkhorse pointed out, ever ready to state the obvious. “I recall that you enter into the nothingness you call sleep when this happens. Is that not so?”
“Yes, but not immediately.” The elder Zeree rose. “I know you don’t sleep, Darkhorse, and you rest only on occasion, so is there some distraction I can offer you?”
The ebony stallion glanced at Sharissa. “Will you also be entering sleep?”
“Not for a while.”
“Then I will join you for a time, if you do not mind?”
She looked from Darkhorse to her parents. “I was planning to return to my own chambers back in the city. Will that be all right?”
“The other Vraad are likely still leery of him, but if you stay together, there should be no problem.” Dru smiled at his former companion. “Try not to frighten too many people… and keep your lone wanderings to a minimum until I’ve spoken to my counterparts in the triumvirate.”
“I will be the image of discretion and insignificance! No one will take notice of me!”
“I doubt that.” The master mage chuckled. “A few of those fine folk might even benefit from a jolt or two, now that I think about it!”
“Do not encourage him, Dru,” Ariela warned, though she, too, laughed at the vision of still-arrogant Tezerenee running across the shadow steed in the dark of the moons.
Sharissa kissed both her father and her stepmother on the cheek. In Dru’s ear, she whispered, “How are things progressing?”
“I pick up something here and there. I’ve expanded the dimensions of this little dreamland of mine… and I think the changes are making some sense at last. Have you talked to Gerrod?”
“He refuses to leave his dwelling and he’s grown more distant, almost like a shadow.” Sharissa paused. “Gerrod still insists the lands are trying to make us over again, that we’ll become monsters like the Seekers or those earth diggers you mentioned, the Quel.”
A bitter smile replaced the pleasant one Dru had maintained up to this point. “We were monsters before we ever crossed to this world. We only wore more attractive masks then.”
“The people are changing.… I mean… not like Gerrod said, but becoming—”
“Will you two be whispering to one another all evening? If so, perhaps I might as well accompany Darkhorse back to the city.” Ariela’s arms were crossed, and she wore an expression of mock annoyance.
“I’m leaving,” the sorceress said, dressing her words in a more pleasant tone. To Darkhorse, she asked, “Will you follow me?”
“Would you like to ride, instead?”
“Ride?” She had not thought of that. They had walked the entire way from the rift to the courtyard because she had not thought of Darkhorse as a mount, but rather a being much like herself. Ride a sentient creature such as this, one that her father termed a living hole?
“You need have no fear! Little Dru rode me quite often! I am stronger, more swift, than the fastest steed! I do not tire, and no terrain is my equal!”
His boasting eased her concerns. “How could I resist such superiority?”
“I only speak the truth!” The demonic horse somehow achieved a semblance of hurt.
“I believe you.” She went to his side and, once he had knelt, mounted. There was no saddle, but the fantastic creature’s back moved beneath her, shifting into a more comfortable form. If only all horses could make their own saddles!
“Take hold of my mane.”
She did, noting that it felt like hair despite knowing that it was not.
“Take care, both of you,” Dru said, waving.
“We’re not going on any great journey, Father!”
“Take care, anyway.”
Darkhorse roared with laughter, though Sharissa was not certain as to why, and reared.
They were racing through the gates of the citadel and down the grassy meadow below before she had time to realize it.
It may have been that Darkhorse felt her stiffen, for he shouted, “Have no fear, I said! I will not lose you!”
She wondered about that. When Darkhorse had mentioned he was swift, she had still pictured his speed in terms of an actual mount, not the creature who had raced toward the city from the western shore in a matter of minutes. Now, Sharissa flew. Literally flew. The ebony stallion’s hooves did not touch the ground; she was certain of that. Her hair fluttered straight back, a pennon of silver-blue reflecting in the light of a moon that was not one of those existing outside of this domain.
They were through the rift and once more in the ruined square before Sharissa even thought to ask if Darkhorse knew where the tear was located. Now she understood her father’s vivid yet unsatisfying telling of his rides with the black steed. One had to experience it to understand.
The days ahead, Sharissa decided, would be interesting indeed.
IN THE CITADEL that was and was not his, the sorcerer and his elfin bride walked arm in arm to their chambers, not even bothering to watch Sharissa and her fearsome companion depart, for Dru knew the Void dweller’s ungodly speed well. Thus it was that neither noticed the return of the Faceless Ones, the not-people, at the exact moment that Darkhorse and his rider returned to the true world. They stood without the walls, all those who had chosen to return to flesh and blood, and stared with sightless gazes after the vanishing duo. If Sharissa could have seen them now, she would have noted a different emotion than the uneasiness she had observed in the one in the city.
V
THREE DAYS HAD passed. One day he might have understood, but not three. Sharissa Zeree did not ignore her promises. She had said she would come, and he had prepared for her—three days ago. Now he could sense her nearing presence, at last, but there was another with her, one who fit nothing in his experience. Sharissa had brought someone with her, but who it was defied his abilities. He knew only that the two of them would be within sight of his hut in little more than a minute.
Hardly enough time to prepare himself. The glamour cast three days past had faded.
What goes on here? Gerrod Tezerenee wondered as he pulled the hood of his cloak about his head, carefully assuring that his features would be shadowed. With so little time available, it was possible he might blunder and cast a spell of insufficient strength. It would not do for her to see what had become of him… though eventually all Vraad might suffer the same fate. How ironic that he should be one of the first.
His eyes on the window facing the southwest—and the city he avoided with a passion—the warlock tried to concentrate. He had to finish before she was too close, lest she notice his conjuring and wonder. Dru Zeree’s daughter was far more knowing than she had been when they had first met. Then, she had been a woman in form but a child in mind. Now, Sharissa walked among the Vraad as one to whom those thousands of years her senior paid homage. She was the sorceress.
A tiny figure on horseback materialized at the horizon. Gerrod frowned and lost his concentration. A single rider. Sharissa. What she rode upon, however, was like no steed he had ever known. Even from here he could see it was taller than the tallest horse and stronger, the warlock suspected, than any drake.
It dawned on him then that what he felt was the ebony mount. It was the source of great power that he had sensed.
The pace the creature set ate swiftly at the distance separating Sharissa from the hut that Gerrod presently called his home. Cursing silently, he forced himself to concentrate again on the glamour. It would be a hurried, confused thing, but it would have to do.
A light wind tickled his face. Gerrod allowed himself a sigh of relief. It was no true wind that had touched him, but rather one that indicated his spell had held. He wore his mask once more.
“Gerrod?” Sharissa was still far away, but she knew that, at this distance, the Tezerenee could hear her with ease.
There was no time to locate a looking glass and inspect his work. He would just have to hope that he had not given himself
some horrible disfigurement. That would be bitter irony, indeed.
It was late afternoon, which meant that the sun was more or less behind the newcomers. Gerrod knew he would have to work things so that it was Sharissa and her—what?—that had to suffer the sun. He dared not let the light shine too bright upon his visage.
“Gerrod?” The slim figure leaned forward and whispered something to the tall stallion, who laughed loud and merrily. Sharissa shook her head and whispered something else.
It was time for him to make his entrance… or exit, since he was presently within his hut.
Black cloak billowing around his somber, gray and blue clothing, Gerrod stepped out into the sun, his head bent downward to maximize the shadows he desired. His heavy boots on the rocky soil alerted Sharissa of his presence.
“Gerrod!” Her smile—a true smile, not the one formed by the natural curve of her mouth—caused a twinge within him that he pretended to ignore.
“You are late, Mistress Zeree.” He had meant to say it as if her tardiness had hardly mattered, but instead it had come out as if he had felt betrayed. Gerrod was pleased that she could not see his face now, for it was surely crimson.
“I’m sorry about that.” She dismounted with ease. “I brought you a visitor I think you’ll be interested in meeting.”
He studied the equine form before him, noting how it was somewhat disproportionate to a normal horse. After that, he nearly stumbled, for the longer he gazed at the beast the more Gerrod felt as if he were being drawn into it. In an effort to escape the sensation, the warlock looked into the creature’s eyes—only to find he had made a mistake. The pupilless, ice-blue eyes snared him like a noose, nearly drawing him further to the brink of… of a nameless fate he had no desire to explore further.
Blinking, he withdrew deeper into his cloak. There was always safety there. A cloak had spared him the anger of his father more than once while he had still lived among his clan. It would protect him now.
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 71
