The demon steed snorted. “You are more foul than anything spawned among the endless realms I crossed during my now-regretted search for this accursed world.”
“Yes, we must talk of those places when this realm is secured. Now, go!”
Darkhorse dipped his head in a mocking salute. “I am your servant, dragon-lord.”
Rearing, the ebony stallion turned and raced off. Sharissa watched the receding figure, then turned to Faunon for support. The elf wore a dour look. He did not seem that sympathetic to Darkhorse’s plight.
“Faunon, I—”
“They died because of him. That is what he said.”
“It was his doing!” She pointed an accusing finger at Barakas, who was turning to watch their antics with mild amusement. Many of the other Tezerenee were watching, too, but Sharissa did not care. She would say what she had to say. If Faunon abandoned her because he could not accept Darkhorse’s earlier actions, then the sorceress would be alone in her efforts. That might be an obstacle she could overcome, but his absence would create an even worse problem for her.
You are too romantic to be a Vraad, her father had once told her. Perhaps so, but she felt no reason to change, even if it meant hurt.
“There will be time for discussion later,” Barakas interrupted, evidently deciding there were better things to do.
Sharissa quieted, hoping that Faunon would see things clearer if he had time to let his emotions cool. He might then see what fear could do to even the bravest of creatures. The elf did not know Darkhorse; he could not see the child that the eternal was. Recalling her own youth, not that distant in the past, Sharissa knew the limits of a child, even as strong a one as the dweller from the Void.
Ahead of them and high in the sky, the dark form soared out of sight.
Securing the box, Barakas told Reegan, “We move out now. The confusion will be to our advantage.”
“Yes, Father.” The heir turned and signaled to the column.
The Tezerenee readied their weapons and spells. Lochivan rejoined the scouts, who, once he was settled on his steed, urged their mounts into the air. Lochivan’s band circled the column twice and then spread out ahead of it.
“We are in the company of madness,” Faunon whispered.
Tilting her head just enough to see him, Sharissa once more tried to explain Darkhorse’s apparent weakness of spirit to the elf. He cut her off with a look and whispered, “The anger was more for their benefit. I understand all too well the limits one faces. If not for your suggestion, I would have likely broken soon, anyway. These dragon men are very skilled at what they do, especially the pleasant one.”
She glanced up at the tiny figures of Lochivan and his airdrake. “I once thought I knew the true man.”
Faunon grimaced. “You probably do. His pleasant attitude is no game, so far as I saw. He would probably smile while he cut your throat if something amused him.”
“That’s—” The Vraad was about to say that the elf’s words were cruel, but then she recalled her most recent encounters with Lochivan. If it benefited the clan and his father, Lochivan would have indeed cut her throat, all the while explaining that he hated to do it but there was no choice in the matter. His lord and master had ordered him to do it, and thus there was no room for argument.
An invisible wave struck Sharissa. She moaned and nearly lost her grip on the reins. Her mind was on fire, and she had a great urge to unleash her power at random if only because it was what burned her.
To her side, Faunon shouted, but she could not understand his words. Several Tezerenee were also shouting, one of them the patriarch himself. The pain-riddled enchantress put a hand to her head, but the pressure within was too much. She started to slide to her right. Part of her knew that if she fell from her drake she would be trampled by one of the others, for the reptilian mounts had grown skittish, but Sharissa lacked the concentration to maintain her grip.
An arm caught her before the sorceress could slip very far. At first she thought it was Faunon, and so she smiled. Only when things came into focus did she see that it was Reegan who had saved her. He had backed up his mount and put himself between the two captives. Over his shoulder Sharissa could see Faunon burning a hole with his eyes through the Tezerenee’s wide back.
“Are you well?” he asked, genuine concern tempering his otherwise gruff voice.
“Yes… I am.” She disengaged herself from his grip as quickly as she was able, but not before his hand slid down her side a bit. Her smoldering expression made him release her that much quicker, and he immediately urged his drake forward. Reegan did not look back even when he was once more near his father.
“I tried to get to you,” Faunon informed her, their mounts once more side by side. Bound to his animal by the magical chains, his mobility was limited. “But he was over here as soon as it hit us. I was lucky he did not push me off my animal! His eyes carried that intention!”
“What… what happened to us?”
“The demon has met the enemy,” Barakas declared. He gazed back at the young Zeree with excitement radiating in his every movement, every breath. “The first blow has been struck, I think.”
A second later, a blue light flashed in the distance. It was bright but brief.
The patriarch turned back to see what startled his people so, but missed the light. Reegan informed him of what had happened. Barakas nodded.
“We can expect more such waves and probably worse before this is over.”
“They might kill him!” Sharissa raged. “You were able to capture him! What happens if they kill or capture him?”
A shrug. “Then it will amount to the same thing. If he’s captured, I can hardly let him be turned on us, especially you. I think your black friend would agree with me on that.”
She pulled back in shock at his response. “You’ll kill him?”
“Eliminate the threat to our security, yes. Darkhorse would never want to bring harm to you. He would prefer my way, rest assured.”
From another point nearer to the column but to the left of the previous location, a rumble and minor explosion brought renewed silence to the Tezerenee. Sharissa was both relieved and dismayed by the second blast; it meant that Darkhorse still survived, but it also meant that he had probably killed for her. If the Seekers lived in such a weakened state as the sorceress had been led to believe from the evidence, then it was possible that they might have left the expedition alone. Not so now. Now, there would most definitely be an attack. The avians would know that Darkhorse was controlled by the Tezerenee, and if they could not destroy the weapon, they might be able to destroy the one who unleashed it instead.
It was apparent that Barakas thought the same. He ordered his men to even greater caution, if that was possible. As swift and accurate as the shadow steed was, he would not find all of the Seekers. They were too skilled, too crafty for that, even if they were mere reflections of their former might.
The column renewed its steady crawl toward the caverns. According to Lochivan, the late Rendel’s notes had indicated that his brother had titled the mountain Kivan Grath. That had brought a harsh laugh from Faunon, who understood the meaning of the name.
“Kivan Grath,” he had announced in grandiose tones. “‘The Seeker of Gods’! How very, terribly true!”
Asked to explain, the captive elf returned to his tale of ancient sorcery and some dark thing now lurking in the depths of the underground caverns perfo-rating the mountain.
The selfsame mountain had been in sight for the past few days, looming over even its taller neighbors by quite some height, but now it was nearly the only thing they could see before them. Regardless of whatever else lay in sight, Kivan Grath overwhelmed the scene. It was still hours away, but a casual glance might lead one to believe that no more than a single hour would be needed to reach it. The leviathan’s size wreaked havoc on perspective. Everyone had trouble believing it could be so tall; they were more willing to believe that it must be closer than the patriarc
h had estimated.
A second wave of random magical force washed over the riders, but this time they were at least prepared for its coming if not its intensity. It was terrible enough that the land here radiated a power of its own; the forces unleashed by both the Seekers and Darkhorse added a new dimension of fear. So far, the only effect was a twisting, churning sensation that touched every spellcaster—and that included most of those assembled for the expedition. The longer they were forced to endure it, the more chance it might affect them in other, more horrifying ways. No one had forgotten Ivor.
“We should turn back!” Sharissa argued as the second wave passed.
No one but Faunon paid heed to her words, and he was not in any condition to follow through on her suggestion. The Lord Tezerenee acknowledged her comments, but replied, “It will be over soon. The first expedition found only a few scattered flocks.”
She was not satisfied with his response. “What if they hid the bulk of their strength for when you returned with greater numbers? How much better to snare many rather than a few! We could be attacked from all sides at any time!”
To her surprise, the patriarch nodded. “I expect to be attacked—and at any moment!”
“But… you can’t be serious… Darkhorse is…”
“He is,” Faunon said, the elf shocked nearly as much as Sharissa was. “Look at him. He has ridden us into the tearing beak of the bird folk… and performed the deed willingly!”
Turning away from the two stunned captives, Barakas laughed. The sorceress scanned the high ground on either side of them. Some of the Tezerenee had airdrakes, but most had only the swift but ground-locked variety. Granted the Vraad had massive sorceries at their beck and call, much of it the vile but deadly Nimthian sort, but that might end up bringing death to them just as readily as the medallions of the Seekers. As with their former home, this world did not deal well with the old sorcery. The greater the spell, the worse the backlash.
It was interesting—and worrisome, Sharissa had to admit—to see many of the armored figures around her turning to one another with apprehension. Had the patriarch neglected to inform his people that he knew they would be riding into a trap? Had they been led to believe that Darkhorse would clear much of the danger away?
Beside his father, Reegan suddenly straightened and pointed at something in the distance. It was Lochivan and the scouts… but were there fewer of them than there had been before?
“It’s about to start,” Barakas commented needlessly. He looked around in expectation.
The sky darkened as manlike forms filled the air above them.
“To your duties!” Reegan shouted. Tezerenee were already raising their bows or some other weapon. If it came to a physical assault, those with swords and lances would defend against any attackers who tried to kill the archers while they reloaded. Several Tezerenee were grouping together in what was obviously the beginnings of a major spell. Others were attempting personal conjurations. Barakas sat on his drake and waited. Sharissa wondered at his sanity, but forgot him when she realized Faunon was completely defenseless. A well-placed rock would put an end to him.
The avians had the advantage. They controlled the sky and the high ground around the column. They knew the land. While there was room for the drakes to maneuver, it was all open to the Seekers.
She wondered why the Seekers did not just bury the entire Tezerenee expedition under tons of rock. Perhaps they no longer had that ability, considering the numbers who had perished because of some prior spell.
“Why does he not summon the demon back?” Faunon wanted to know. “We would stand a better chance!”
“I don’t know!”
A warrior behind them reached for his throat and gasped. That was all. He fell from his steed and was lost under the milling forms of the drakes.
Archers were already firing. Two Seekers plummeted to the ground, already dead, but most of the others had moved out of range.
Sharissa’s mind was tugged in all directions as the two sides warred on the sorcerous plane. Men screamed around her, but she could not afford to aid them. Instead, she pulled Faunon to her and cast her best defensive spells.
“You should be fighting them,” Faunon counseled. “The avians will not ignore us for long merely because we behave. They will save us for when the true threats have been eliminated.”
A huge form fell in front of them, sending the drakes into a fearful rage. The sorceress was forced to contend with both beasts, but she still managed to bring them under control. The missile proved to be the corpse of one of the bird folk. It had hit the ground with such intensity that much of it was no longer recognizable. Whether sorcery or arrow had killed the Seeker was a moot point, but it raised another danger. With the avians directly above the column, it was possible that even in death a Seeker might take a foe with him. Sharissa craned her neck and gazed into the heavens. It seemed to her that the greatest concentration of Seekers was over their present location.
Lowering her head, the exasperated sorceress again saw Barakas sitting calm amidst chaos. He was doing little more than surveying the scene and shouting out the occasional order. He was waiting for something.
His eyes met hers and she was certain that he smiled, although the helm, of course, made it difficult to be certain. As if responding to her anger and confusion, the patriarch pointed into the sky behind her. Sharissa spun around on her saddle, fearing that even more Seekers were winging their way toward the doomed column, cutting them off from any retreat.
There was indeed a mass of winged terrors racing toward the battle, but they were not Seekers.
They were Tezerenee. Not one band, but two. They converged from the east and west, coming together just as they reached the mountains. While their numbers were not as great as those of the avian attackers, they had height and mass to their advantage. They also had the confusion of battle to count upon. Several of the Seekers noted them, but that knowledge did them little good. Engaged in combat, both magical and physical, with the column, they could not break away without opening themselves up to a rain of death from below.
Many tried just that, regardless of the risk. Seeker magic was evidently more limited, at least as far as this particular group was concerned. Those who turned to flee proved inviting targets for the archers, who brought down many before the spellcasters could take their own turn. A few Tezerenee still fell; not all of the avians were abandoning the struggle. The bird people seemed to radiate a quiet desperation as they fought the humans, as if they knew that they were fighting to preserve what was already lost to them. Yet as their arrogance and miscalculations had evidently unleashed some horrifying spell back upon their own—as Faunon and the petrified corpses had suggested to her—so now did those same faults thrust the Seekers into a trap from which there was little hope of escape.
Barakas had expected a trap and laid one of his own. This was why the expedition had moved as slowly as it had. The patriarch had sent out two smaller forces composed of airdrake riders and hidden them somewhere in the wooded lands southwest and southeast of here. Somehow, they had come just in time, though Sharissa could not recall any signal. She had certainly sensed nothing.
The patriarch, she knew, would be more than pleased to explain later. What mattered now was surviving until the newcomers were able to finish the task at hand.
“Beware!” Faunon shouted. “One has his sights upon us, Sharissa!”
That much was true, but the young Zeree felt no assault. Instead, faint images swirled about her imagination, images she vaguely recognized as Seekers.
“Sharissa?” The elf bounced against her, the only thing he could do to stir her since he was bound.
“No! Stop that!” she warned. “It’s trying to tell me something!”
Above, the Seeker dodged two arrows. It increased its mental assault, strengthening the images Sharissa perceived.
Seekers in a cavern… the cavern the Tezerenee sought.
Her father had told her of
the fashion by which the avians communicated with outsiders, but he had indicated touch was necessary for the best understanding. That was not possible, but there were barriers that could be brought down.
“Sharissa! You are dropping your defensive spells!”
“I know! Trust me!” She hoped he would not press her, for her own resolve in this was wavering. What if she were playing into the talons of the Seeker?
The last barrier fell… and the Vraad sorceress was deluged with vivid images of what had been and what might be. The vision of Seekers hard at work on a master spell through which they hoped to rid themselves of the last of the Quel, the massive armadillolike race that had preceded them as masters of this continent. Sharissa gasped at the sight of the horrifying beast, although deep down she knew she was absorbing some of the avian’s own fear and hatred of the elder race.
The spell was not totally of their own fabrication. Another had influenced them in its making. Something made the image blur, and she found herself now seeing the effects of that spell. It had not been a sorcerous backlash that had killed so many of the avians, but a successful but costly full reversal of the very spell. They had realized that what they unleashed would not stop with merely the Quel, and if they allowed it to go unchecked until their old enemies were no more, then it would be too strong to ever stop.
It had taken the greater part of their population to force the—Sharissa saw a vision of fur, teeth, and huge claws digging through earth, but received no name for the monstrosities—into the lands north, where they could be made to sleep until it was possible to destroy them all.
The image blurred again and she was back in the cavern, but her view kept shifting, as if she were traveling through the system of passages leading deep into the earth. The Seeker’s fear touched her; he did not want to have to show her what lay below, but it was necessary for her understanding.
Faunon was shouting in her ear, trying to stir her, she supposed, but his words were so long and drawn out that they sounded like moans. Everything around her had slowed. Her mind had become attuned to the swift thoughts of the avian, who was desperately trying to communicate as much as possible before—
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 87
