Reaching to her neck, the avian tugged at a chain. Gerrod squinted and saw the medallion hanging by a chain around her throat. The medallion was almost the Seeker equivalent of the crystals the Quel utilized; it generally protected its wearer and contained some vicious spell. Not a few of his clan had died facing weapons such as this. The Tezerenee moved as close as he could to the image. Beside him, the Quel leader glanced his way, but ignored him further when he saw what the tiny human was about.
The Seeker removed her medallion—and promptly dropped it into the dirt far below her.
Among the Quel, there was a stirring of confusion.
The leader gave a command, again something that Gerrod could not make out. He knew by now that he was being purposely blocked out.
Some of the Quel turned to their superior with a sense of confusion evident in their movements. One bleated, the questioning note undeniable.
Shoving the hapless Vraad to one side—and almost against the far wall—the leader faced his questioner and repeated his command.
Dipping his head, the questioner returned to the crystal and, under the watchful gaze of all present, including the recovered Gerrod, touched another face of the crystal.
During the brief encounter, the Seeker had remained where she was, still hovering. Only as the one Quel touched the gemstone did the Vraad realize that the avian had been offering a truce. She would have to know that the Quel controlled this region. Her life had been offered in exchange for a meeting.
The Quel leader chose to decline that offer.
Blinding brilliance filled the image, forcing many of the huge, armadillolike creatures to shield their eyes and momentarily stunning the unprepared human. Gerrod blinked time and time again until at last some semblance of vision returned to him. He looked up, trying to see around the swimming spots that dotted everything in sight. The image, too, had cleared, and the warlock was able to make out glittering hills and the occasional tough plant. Of the Seeker, he saw no sign.
The same Quel who had controlled the crystal before now touched it again. Gerrod watched the scene shift, abandoning the sky view for one that observed more of the surface. The leader hooted, his tone and stance smug.
When he saw what remained of the ambassador of the Seekers, the Tezerenee was relieved that he could not smell it as well.
The Quel were well-defended. The lone avian never had hope. In what reminded Gerrod of a horrible parody of many a fine meal he had eaten, her charred corpse lay sprawled on the hard ground. The female’s face, what was left of it, was buried in the soil, saving the warlock from seeing her accusing eyes. She had come in peace—unless his captors knew otherwise—and they had burned her to death.
Their weapon had been the land itself. Many of those gleaming fragments seemingly scattered about the countryside actually served another purpose. Like the array of gems that brought light to this world beneath the surface, these had been arranged just so. With their knowledge, the Quel merely manipulated a few at a time to create a beam of intense light. It was a horrific application of the childhood habit of burning bugs with a simple lens.
Our people are truly related, he thought in disgust. Such a trick would have appealed greatly to many of his fellow Vraad. His father would have found it a marvelous toy to add to his arsenal.
Around him, the various Quel began to lose interest now that the crisis was past. Only Gerrod seemed concerned over what the Seeker had wanted in the first place. It was not likely she would sacrifice herself. Something had concerned her and her kind enough for them to take this chance. He wished he had studied her closer. What condition had the avian been in before her death? Was it only his imagination or had she seemed worn, defeated in purpose?
Madness… bird people… death… statement!
The Quel who always accompanied him had returned to his side. The message was garbled, but at least they were communicating with their “guest” again. Gerrod understood enough; his host thought the Seeker had to have been insane to do what she had done. As for whose “death” the huge creature referred to, Gerrod could not say. There were too many interpretations that made sense considering the enmity between the two races.
Certain that he and his companions would be departing, Gerrod turned toward the chamber’s mouth and took a step. A heavy hand belayed that thought by catching at the shoulder and twirling him about until he came to face the leader again.
The Quel leaned close—too close, as far as the warlock was concerned. He covered his nose.
Tomorrow… cavern of crystal… Gerrod/elf/Vraad searching… Seekers dying… statement!
The hooded figure could only nod wordlessly as his eyes met and broke away from those of the Quel master. Something had come of this after all. He would finally be returned to the cavern. At last, he could study the ancient wonder and find the reason for its existence, for those damnable faces. In the process, he would turn it to his own needs, not those of the armored monstrosities who held him.
Yesss…
The short, sibilant response was not Quel in origin, yet neither did it seem human. Gerrod hesitated, not certain whether he had imagined it or not. The Quel moved about as if nothing were amiss. Beside him, the leader indicated that it was now time to depart. Gerrod obeyed without question, but his mind still searched for a repeat of the brief yet chilling statement.
Nothing. A figment of his imagination, most likely. He could come up with no other satisfactory explanation, yet even that one felt weak. What else could it be, though?
Gerrod was quietly but soundly urged toward the corridor by the same massive paw that had halted his progress a moment before. Just as he reached the mouth of the cavern chamber, however, he paused again, unable to relieve his mind of this peculiar burden. If only a figment, why did it seem so real, so familiar? Why could he not dismiss it, a simple one-word phantasm of his mind?
And why did he now, without warning, fear to enter the very cavern he had so desired to return to for the last two days?
The Quel urged him on again. As he walked, the warlock could not help wondering once more just what it was the Seeker had wanted and what possible threat ignorance of her message would bring down upon his captors… not to mention himself?
XIV
BARAKAS GAZED up at the mountains towering before them and smiled. “Magnificent! Truly worthy!”
Even Sharissa, whose mind continued to dwell upon that terrifying yet sad incident of a few nights before, had to agree with him. The mountains were majestic, more so because they were natural formations, not something that had been conjured up, as in the old days of Nimth.
“No one can long look at the Tybers and not feel their power,” Faunon whispered to her. He had, in the last day, been given leave to ride at the head of the expedition alongside Sharissa. The elf had finally agreed to guide them, mostly out of concern for the young sorceress. She found his interest in her both pleasant and embarrassing, and matters were not helped by his occasional glances and reassuring smiles.
Merely fellow prisoners, she told herself. Our only common interest is escape from here. That he was a welcome change from most of her kind she was not yet willing to admit to, not even to herself.
Escape was still out of the question so long as the patriarch controlled or contained Darkhorse. Sharissa tore her eyes from the grand scenery and studied the box that was slung near the Lord Tezerenee’s leg, ready for quick use, if necessary. It was never far from his side, and she already knew that the spells were specifically tied to him, making the chance of someone else opening it slim—at least without injuring or even killing the occupant within the box. Darkhorse could be destroyed; that was something she knew to be very true by now. He was not the invincible, godlike being from beyond that her father’s tales had once indicated to her. Rather, he was very, very vulnerable to many things. Too many things.
“This would be a good place to strike,” Faunon whispered to her, meaning the Seekers, who had yet to make an appearance during t
his entire journey. Even though they had at last reached the mountains, which still meant another day’s journey to the base of the one they sought, the Tezerenee were not acting overconfident. Many of those born to the clan were undoubtedly replaying their near massacre by the avians some fifteen years before over and over again in their thoughts. Everyone talked of the incident with the unfortunate Ivor, a victim, it was decided, of some twisted avian spell.
Faunon had tried to convince them otherwise, but his voice went unheard in this matter. He was convinced that Ivor had been transformed into that monstrosity by another power he claimed lay deep beneath the caverns the Seekers had used as an aerie. Only Sharissa believed him, and she had to admit that part of her belief was based on growing emotions for Faunon.
Up ahead of the column, scouts on airdrakes were flying back to the column. Lochivan rode the lead beast, his own request. The expedition halted at the patriarch’s command and waited for the scouts to land.
“Father.” Sharissa noted that his voice had grown hoarse. Lochivan leaped off his mount and knelt before Barakas. He gave his elder brother a cursory nod and said, “We ride amidst a region soaking in untapped power.”
“I told you that,” Faunon could not help pointing out. So much of what he said went through the ears of his captors and out into the heavens. The elf turned to Sharissa and, with a wry smile, asked, “Why did they bother to bring me along if they won’t believe anything I say?”
Reegan twisted around in his saddle. “Be silent!”
The sorceress knew that Faunon was taking risks every time he spoke out, especially when he was near Reegan. Perhaps because he desired her so much, the heir apparent was the first one to take note of the link between Sharissa and the prisoner. The huge Tezerenee was jealous.
Lochivan continued. “We saw little sign of recent avian activity, but we found several Seekers who had died at one point or another. It appears that they were fighting among themselves.”
“Indeed?” Barakas stroked his beard and sank into deep thought. Lochivan, waiting for the sign to continue, absently scratched at his throat.
“We can ride right in and take over,” Reegan suggested with his usual lack of timing and thought. Sharissa almost felt sympathy for him.
The patriarch only shook his head. “Do not be absurd again. There have to be Seekers about. Not all of them would be so obliging as to flee or die for our sakes. If we had charged in, swords ready and magic flying, we would probably be dead now. This is still their domain for a time. They will defend it to their utmost.”
“We cannot stay here until we’ve rooted them all out of the rocks,” the heir protested. “That might take years.”
“That I agree with.” The Lord Tezerenee tapped the side of the shadow steed’s horrible prison as he pondered a decision. He ceased the tapping and eyed the box with new interest. “Perhaps there is a more efficient way.”
Sharissa urged her mount closer to the patriarch, her heart sinking as what Barakas might be plotting occurred to her. “Haven’t you put him through enough? Isn’t that box pain enough for him to endure?”
“This should be relatively painless, I think.”
“You know what I mean!”
“More lives will be saved by this in the long run, my dear Sharissa,” Barakas replied, his smile as false as his words. “At least… Tezerenee lives.”
He lifted the box so that it rested in one arm and ran his hand over it, repeating the same pattern he had earlier, albeit in such a manner that it could be performed with a single hand, not two. Sharissa could sense the bond that tied the Tezerenee lord to the spell and thus Darkhorse to him. She still had no idea how to free the ebony stallion from it, and that was what held her back from escape. Barakas was by no means an opponent she could hope to overcome by direct action. Only by biding her time would she have a chance—but when would that be? The sorceress had no intention of waiting until she was married and bearing the children of Reegan. The very thought stirred her to renewed determination. Perhaps at some point on this very expedition Sharissa would find a means of solving her troubles.
She could only hope.
Barakas lifted the lid.
A wave of darkness rushed forth, almost as if the patriarch had unleashed night upon day. Yet, this darkness screamed its pleasure and fear, screamed wordlessly as it slowly coalesced into the familiar form of Sharissa’s tormented friend.
“Movement! Sound! Sight! By the ungodly Void, I am free of it again! Free!”
A few of the Tezerenee shifted in nervousness, fully aware of what the overwhelming creature before them could do if allowed full will. Barakas and those of his sons who rode with the column sat in relaxed silence, fully confident in the patriarch’s hold on the eternal.
His initial thrill at being released from the torturous container abating, Darkhorse glared at his armored keeper. Even Lochivan, who now stood beside the drake his father rode, and Reegan found other things to contemplate rather than meet those cold eyes. Barakas, on the other hand, met them with the same commanding indifference that he met most other things with. He knew very well who held sway here, and all of the eternal’s staring would not lessen the truth of that.
“What do you want of me?” the shadow steed bellowed. His front hooves tore at the earth below. Sharissa did not doubt that he wished it was the clan master beneath those heavy hooves.
“I have a task for you, one that should prove simple considering your abilities.”
“Barakas, please don’t do this to him!” the sorceress called, her pride a forgotten thing in the importance of the moment.
The patriarch turned and studied her briefly. Although the dragonhelm hid most of his features, she could hear the disdain in his words. “Do not demean yourself, Lady Sharissa. A good warrior makes use of all weapons available to him, and I would be remiss if I did not use one of my greatest. He will ensure that no harm comes to you.”
“To her?” Darkhorse paused in his kicking. He looked from the patriarch to Sharissa. “What threatens her?”
“Nothing, Darkhorse! He—”
A gauntleted hand touched the lid of the box, causing the demon steed to freeze and Sharissa to quiet almost instantly. “She rides with us into the interior of this mountainous region. I cannot guarantee her safety should we be attacked. You know the strength of the creatures who control this domain. Terrible it is, wouldn’t you say?”
Darkhorse laughed, but there was little defiance left in him. He had been nearly broken by the periods of imprisonment in the box. “I served you in such a way earlier, monstrous one! I… I told you of those creatures, the elves”—he indicated an alert Faunon—“and where they could be found. Your sorcery, then, was not sufficient for the task! I gave you lives I had no right to give!”
A nod was the only acknowledgment he received from the lord of the Tezerenee. “This should prove much easier and more fulfilling, then. These are Seekers, creatures of the kind who attacked and captured your old companion, Dru Zeree. These are the creatures who would do harm to his daughter. They make no exceptions; her life means as little to them as my own does. If we were attacked, it will be difficult to keep an eye on her.”
“I have my own power with which to battle them,” she reminded the two. “If it comes to a struggle, I will fight them. I do not want needless deaths.”
Despite her assurances, the ebony stallion wavered more. “You have not seen them as I have. They mean little to my power, but you… you lack my resilience.”
“So she does,” Lochivan agreed, aiding his parent in the Tezerenee effort. Barakas gave a slight shake of his head that Sharissa noticed. He needed no aid in this matter, she knew. The patriarch held all the trumps.
“I gave you the elves because I feared for her… and I feared that cursed creation of yours! Do not ask me to add to my sins! If they come for you, then I will take them!”
“There was a time when you would have taken Dru Zeree. Do you remember that?” The Lord Teze
renee’s hand toyed with the lid.
“I did not know better then!” Darkhorse’s head was bowed. Sharissa knew what he was recalling. A simple yet powerful being existing in the regions of the Void, the eternal had no concept of life and death. Absorbing the few outsiders he came across in the endless limbo had meant nothing. Only after his time with her father did Darkhorse begin to comprehend the value of one’s existence. If he or those he cared for were attacked, the stallion would fight. To kill those who did not even know of him, however…
“You have your choice, of course. I would be minded to let you remain out if you perform well, but if I cannot trust you to even protect one you profess to care for, I see no reason to leave you free. Who knows what havoc you might cause. Yes, perhaps returning you to the box until the day comes when I might find a task worth the trouble of summoning you again—”
Barakas began to tilt the open box in the direction of Darkhorse. To Sharissa’s shock and dismay, she saw that her father’s old companion was quivering with fear. He had even grown a bit distorted, as if his fright were so great it even interfered with his ability to hold shape.
“There is no need for that.”
His voice, for all its deep rumble, was meek and abashed. Darkhorse stared at the ground beneath him, unwilling to look at those before—especially her. Sharissa shook her head, and tears ran down her cheeks.
“I will find these Seekers for you… and eliminate their threat.”
A beatific smile crossed the patriarch’s half-hidden visage. “Thank you. I see no reason why you cannot begin now. Do you?” He pointed at the mountains far ahead. “I want you to search there, near our destination. Search the northern region until I summon you back.”
Darkhorse shook his head, sending his mane flying. He seemed taken aback by something. “But that leaves—”
“I have given you your task. I want it performed as I said. No rebellion. Nothing will happen to anyone here if you obey me to the letter. I promise you that.”
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 86
