“So much for the vaunted power of the other guardians and their masters!” the warlock muttered. “That thing has been waiting for us! It probably kept them silent so it could teach us a fatal lesson for not obeying it before!”
So it seemed, although Sharissa could not see how the outcast could have known they would come when they did. Still, that was a worry for another time. Right now their lives were all at stake. The rampaging monsters were all around them, cutting off any hope of escape through the gateways. It was doubtful that they could have outrun the horrors anyway.
“This way!” Faunon called, pointing in the direction the patriarch and the others had gone. There was still the question of what was happening to them. If the outcast guardian was responsible for the voice the patriarch had though was his bride’s, then it could be nothing good.
They started up the steps and were halfway when she recalled Darkhorse. He was still engaged with the one dragon, dancing about and entrancing it much the way a snake might entrance its victim. The eternal, however, had little strength now, and against a creature that had already proven its natural magical abilities, the shadow steed stood a good chance of being defeated. Whether he could die or not was something Sharissa had no desire to discover.
“Darkhorse! This way!”
He seemed not to hear her. She began retracing her steps, but Faunon and Gerrod pulled her back up.
“Look before you run!” Faunon reprimanded her. He turned her head so that she could see the dragon making its way toward them. Unlike the others, who seemed more a mix of browns and greens like the riding drakes, it had a silverish cast to it and eyes that gleamed with more intelligence. It avoided the battling drakes and stalked the tiny figures with true purpose.
“But Darkhorse…”
“You know he only stays because you do! He’ll leave when you are safe! Take her, Tezerenee!”
Gerrod did, securing a hold while the elf readied his bow. With the elf backing them up, they continued to climb the steps. Faunon released an arrow once he was at the top, but it hit just before the dragon’s forepaws. The shot brought them a few seconds, but little more.
“And I used to pride myself on my shooting!”
“I think the dragon might have had something to do with it!” Gerrod suggested as he pushed Sharissa on. “I felt a tug, as if it made use of sorcery in its defense!”
“Rheena pray for us if it did!”
The doors of the building were open and, to their surprise, undamaged. Once through, Sharissa and Gerrod closed them while Faunon stood back and kept watch just in case. When the doors were finally bolted, they took a moment to catch their breaths.
“Where… where can my father be with all this commotion?” the young Tezerenee asked between gulps of air.
“The great… the great hall is where he said he would be,” Sharissa suggested. “It’s our best bet!”
“And then what? Sharissa, do you think your sorcery can teleport us out of here?”
She had already wondered about that and suspected that the answer was no. Even if the guardian was truly gone, the wild magic inherent in the dragons outside was wreaking havoc upon her own abilities. There was also Faunon’s warning about utilizing their powers during this time.
If it came to life or death, however, she would do what she could and damn the consequences.
They jumped away from the door as a massive weight pushed against it, causing the hinges to creak dangerously.
“Gerrod!” a voice without called.
“Dragon’s blood!” the warlock nearly choked as he stepped farther and farther back from the doors. His pale visage was the color of bone. “I know that voice, but which one? Esad? Logan?”
“It hardly matters! I think the time has come to retreat from the doors!” Faunon suggested. “Sharissa! Do you know the way we have to take?”
He had only had limited access to this building. Gerrod had never even been inside here. Sharissa was the only one familiar with the building’s design, not that the path was that difficult. Time was, however, of the essence.
She nodded. “Just follow me!”
Ignoring the severity of their predicament, the elf asked, “Do you think we’d rather wait around here?”
They could hear the dragon trying to break its way in as they ran, and it was obvious that the doors would not hold too long. Sharissa hoped to find the patriarch and then lead the party to the upper floors, where it would be impossible for the dragons to reach them. So far, they had seen none with wings, but that might not remain so. If these dragons were what she thought they were, then wings might be merely the next step in their evolution.
Together we can do something, she kept telling herself. With my power, Faunon’s, and what the rest can contribute, we should be able to teleport us all to safety.
Should was the optimum word.
So engrossed was she in the planning of their escape that she nearly fell across the body lying across the closed doors of their destination.
“Careful!” Faunon caught her. It seemed that someone was always catching her. Sharissa felt brief pangs of frustration, but forgot her aggravation with herself when she saw who—or rather, what—she had nearly tripped over.
It was one of the Tezerenee. His head had been nearly severed from his body, but with good reason. With his helm off to one side, the trio could see that he, like Lochivan, had progressed through a part of the transformation.
“He was perfectly normal when we last saw him!” Gerrod objected.
“But he isn’t now!” Sharissa forgot about the body and rushed to the doors.
“Help me get these open… and pray we don’t find another like him waiting for us!”
They heard yet another hiss down one of the corridors. Heavy thuds warned them in advance that this part of the citadel was not empty.
The doors proved not to be bolted, but something had been placed behind them that made it difficult at first to push them open. The combined efforts of the three, not to mention the knowledge that another dragon was only minutes from discovering them, proved superior to whatever held back the doors.
Sharissa peeked in as the doors spread apart and barely held back a gasp.
Lord Barakas stood with his sword out before him, as still as a marble statue. The great hall was in ruins, and she saw part of the mangled corpse of one of the patriarch’s remaining two men. The other was nowhere to be seen, although it was almost a certainty that he, like the first, was dead.
Facing the clan master from where the thrones had once stood was the largest of the dragons that any of them had yet seen in the citadel.
“Now what do we do?” Gerrod asked.
The hissing in the corridors had multiplied. Sharissa did not think they had any choice, especially since it sounded as if the outer doors were beginning to give. She gritted her teeth and replied, “One dragon is always better than two or three!”
They stepped inside, and Faunon and the warlock quickly closed and bolted the doors behind them.
Barakas and the dragon before him had still not moved. It was as if they were waiting to see who would look away first. The dragon, a huge, emerald and black beast, bled from a number of cuts around its eyes and throat. Part of the patriarch’s armor was in tatters, and he looked to be bleeding, although it was hard to say since his back was turned to them. Sharissa wondered why the dragon looked so familiar and then realized the monster resembled the ancient dragonlord in the ruins of the founders’ settlements. Was this what the renegade had wanted the Tezerenee to become?
Reptilian eyes glanced the trio’s way, but Barakas, oddly enough, did not choose to strike. The dragon, turning its attention back to the patriarch, almost appeared disappointed in his lack of effort.
Barakas, never taking his eyes from the dragon, called back, “Get out of here! I command you! Go on without me!”
“We would like to, Father,” Gerrod responded with a touch of sarcasm in his tone, “but the family insis
ts we stay for dinner!”
Outside the great hall, they could hear the hissing of more than one drake.
“Gerrrrod?” The dragon leaned forward, completely ignoring the armed Tezerenee, yet Barakas still made no move. “Gerrrod.”
“Gods!” The warlock stumbled back as the jaws opened, and they stared into the beast’s huge maw.
The behemoth suddenly recoiled. Sharissa thought it looked ashamed and horrified by Gerrod’s reaction. The mighty head turned and reptilian eyes stared down at the patriarch. “Let it be donnne!”
Before their eyes, the dragon struck at Lord Barakas, but in so clumsy a manner that its lower jaw missed the top of the clan master’s helm by several inches. The attack also left the dragon’s throat completely open, but even then, Barakas hesitated before striking. When he finally attacked, it was as if his draconian adversary had purposely left itself open, for it delayed in withdrawing its head.
The patriarch’s sword, propelled by his tremendous strength, went up through the throat, the back of the jaws, and directly into the brain of the beast.
The silence of the tableau lent an eerie feel to it. Making no sound despite the horrible pain it felt, the dragon pulled back. Barakas remained where he had been since the threesome had entered, defying almost certain death if the thrashings of the dying creature proved very violent.
Yet, the dragon did not thrash. It twitched as it moved, and the blood, a trail that began on the chest and hands of the clan master and continued back to the dais, continued to pour from the wound like some hideous river. With so much pain evident, it was surprising to all of them that the dragon seemed almost at peace.
Heavy thuds against the doors reminded Sharissa and her companions of their own danger. They moved closer to the center of the great hall. Barakas still had no eyes for them; he only seemed interested in the death of the leviathan. As it began to settle into the final moments of life, the patriarch walked slowly toward the dragon’s head. The eyes, already glazing, watched him with what interest the dying beast could muster. It made no attempt to snap at him. Barakas knelt beside it and, removing his gauntlets, began caressing his adversary on the neck.
“Lord Barakas,” Sharissa dared call out. “We need to leave this place! The others will be through those doors before long!”
He looked up at them. There was no life in his voice as he said, “I killed her.”
“You cannot kill them all, though, Father!” the warlock argued, evidently thinking that the patriarch was intending to take on each and every beast as it came.
Sharissa understood what Gerrod did not and tried to keep him from saying anything more. “Lord Barakas! Is there another way out of here that might lead us to a safer place?”
“I killed her because she asked me,” he replied, rising and staring at his son.
“It was a struggle for her to keep her own mind, but she was always the strongest besides myself. I almost thought she might have fought back the foul magic as I had done.”
Gerrod’s eyes jerked from his father to the dead beast. “Dragon’s blood, Father! that… that cannot be—”
“Yes, Gerrod. That is my Alcia.”
“That thing is—was mother?” The younger Tezerenee, Sharissa realized, had never taken the transformations and followed them to their logical conclusions. If one Tezerenee was affected, they all were, even the lord and lady who ruled. Barakas had survived through his incredible will. The Tezerenee still back at the caverns had probably survived in part because of his very presence. Of course, there was also the possibility that the renegade guardian had acted more cautiously in the caverns, considering that the region was a former stronghold of its creators.
A downpour of heavy thuds left cracks in the walls and ceiling of the chamber. Sharissa stood directly in front of Barakas and forced him to look at her. “Barakas! Is there a place we can go from here where the dragons won’t be able to reach us?”
Behind the helm, his face screwed up in thought. He almost looked pained by the effort. She pitied him for what he had been forced to do, but there was no helping Lady Alcia anymore. Now was the time to worry about those still living.
He finally shook his head. “No. Nothing. The other entrances lead out into the main corridors.”
“Which we know to be filled with our friends,” Faunon remarked. He had the bow ready. The first drake through would have little room to navigate, making it a perfect target for one of his skill.
“We’re trapped, then,” she said. “Unless we teleport from here.”
“Very risky!”
She indicated the buckling doors. “Compared to that?”
“A communal effort will be needed. I doubt I have the power to either tele-port us or open a gate long enough for us to go through. Do you think you could do it?”
“No.” That had been one of her first considerations. A communal effort was the only choice she had discovered. Sharissa had hoped the elf might suggest another. “We’d best get to it, then! Gerrod! Are you up to it?”
The warlock slowly nodded. “Yes. Anything to be away from this damnation! What about my erstwhile father?”
The clan master had retreated into his other world again. His dreams had been shattered, and one of the strongest driving forces behind that dream, the Lady Alcia, was dead at his own hands. If anything could have broken the powerful Vraad’s will, this could… and had.
“Hold on to him. We’ll take him along. I can’t leave him in here like this.”
Hinges creaked as the dragons pounded away. Sharissa felt weak probes searching for them. The drakes were going through a change that entailed more than physical transformation. They were being adapted, as the guardians had said, and part of that adaptation was an affinity for the sorcery of this world. Sharissa hoped that the remnants of her party would be gone before the dragons became too skilled.
They stood in a small circle, holding each other’s hands. Sharissa acted as the focus, drawing strength from her companions, even the somnambulant lord of the Tezerenee. Faunon suggested drawing an image from his mind and sending them there, but she lacked the concentration to do so. That left only a blind teleport, risky but their only hope.
“Wait!” Gerrod released her hand and dug into his clothing. He removed a crystal identical to the ones he had given to his companions earlier. “Take this and concentrate on the elf’s thoughts!”
“What will happen?”
“I gave you the other ones because the Quel use them for reading and translating thoughts! They work from a distance, and I thought it would be a good way for me to find you if we got separated. I should have told you, but that’s not important now! If you concentrate on your elf, what he thinks will be transmitted to you!”
She took the crystal and did as he described, finding with joy that Faunon’s thought image was so clear that it was almost as if they were already there. She focused on the location.
The dragons’ probes grew stronger. Inhuman emotions began to seep through, biting at her concentration.
The chamber faded.
The chamber reappeared.
“No!” They fell in a heap, shaken by the reversal. Sharissa felt a mind that she knew to be draconian laugh at them. Do not leave ussss, Sharisssssa Zereeee! Do not take our lordssss from ussss!
From the way Gerrod jerked, she knew he had heard the dragon, also. It was the same one that he had identified as one of his brothers.
The doors burst open, swinging back so hard they crashed into the walls and sent bits of rock flying.
The dragons swarmed toward them, the silver one in the front.
XXI
A DARK, FLEET phantom burst forth from the ground before the silver dragon.
“Back, lizard! Back or I shall stamp your pretty face into the rock!”
Out of surprise more than anything else, the huge monsters stopped. The silver dragon hissed at Darkhorse and roared, “Awaaaay from ourrr frrriendsss, demon! Awaaay from our tenderrr little frrrien
ds!”
“I think not!” The eternal struck the floor with his front hooves, sending lightning sparks at the foremost drakes. The silver one hissed again and backed away.
“Sharissa! Come to me! You and your companions! Hurry now!”
Their eyes on the leader of the horde, Sharissa and the others rushed to Darkhorse’s side. Gerrod had to lead his father, who simply stared at the dragons and muttered something that sounded like “Tezree” to Sharissa’s ears.
“Be ready!” the shadow steed whispered when they were by him. “If I cannot—”
He never finished. The silver dragon, eyes on the party, caught sight of the great form lying limp across the farmost part of the hall.
“Motherrr!” The outraged roar echoed throughout the citadel.
The silver dragon charged.
“Too late, my friend!” Darkhorse bellowed.
The great hall and its foul inhabitants winked out of existence—to be replaced by a lightly wooded land.
“Praise Dru!” The eternal sank to his knees in the high grass. Sharissa quickly looked around and saw that everyone else was accounted for. She exhaled and hugged Faunon, so relieved was she to find they were safe.
With some reluctance, the two of them finally separated. Gerrod, still guiding his oblivious father around, curtly asked, “And where are we now?”
The area they stood in the midst of was part of a fairly flat region. Far, far to the north, the sorceress thought she could make out a mountain chain, although whether it was the same mountains in which lay the caverns was impossible to tell from this distance. At the moment, she only cared to know if they were safe or not.
“I think I recognize this,” Faunon said, scanning the area again. “I think we may be south of the citadel.”
“Far south?” she asked.
“Far enough.”
“Unless they have the ability to track our magical trail,” the warlock interjected, eyeing the elf in a way that Sharissa did not like. “It was how I ended up in all this madness, tracking the trail he left behind.”
Looking at Darkhorse, Sharissa was horrified to see that he was becoming transparent. “Darkhorse! What’s happening to you?”
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 98
