The not-people, the Faceless Ones as others had called them, circled the Vraad and her companion.
“Sharissa! Do they mean us any harm?”
“One never knows,” she answered truthfully. “I hope not.”
A wan smile touched his face. “Since I have met you, my Vraad, I have been in one constant state of disarray. I never know what to expect!”
“I’ve fared no better,” she admitted. One of the blank-visaged beings separated from the rest and stopped before her. “You’re here.” The sorceress tried to act as brave as she sounded. “What now? Why have you come?”
In answer, the long figure raised its left hand and pointed. They looked.
Like the Faceless Ones, it was standing where it could not have been standing a breath or two earlier. It was wide enough to admit both of them, though that was not what first drew their attention. As ever, it was the artifact itself that commanded the viewer’s gazes. Standing there was an ancient stone arch-way upon which scurried a multitude of tiny, black, reptilian creatures in one seemingly endless race. The gray, stone archway covered with ivy was only one of many shapes this thing had, but each one radiated a feeling of incredible age and the notion that this structure was more than the portal it appeared to be. This was a thing alive.
“My father calls it the Gate,” she informed Faunon. “A capital on the noun. He always felt it was more of a name, not a description.”
“Is it truly alive?”
A shrug. “Was that thing that attacked us alive? I’m beginning to think that this is a world as insane as Nimth.”
The leader pointed again.
“It wants us to enter, I think, Sharissa. What do you suggest?”
She did not trust the Faceless Ones completely anymore. They had an agenda of their own, and she was certain it did not always match that of her folk. Still, she could think of no reason to refuse—and wondered then if the cowled beings would even let her. “I think we should go through. I think it might be for the best.”
He squeezed her hand. “We go through together. I have no desire to be left behind.”
That thought frightened her. Would the not-people do that to her? Did Faunon have no place in their plans? Sharissa tightened her grip and nodded to the one before them. “Together, then.”
Acting as if it wanted to assuage their fears, the leader led the way to the living portal. The featureless figure did not even pause. As it walked through the arch, they saw a flash and then the image of a building that the sorceress had no trouble recognizing.
Her face lit up. “Follow it! Now!”
They fairly leaped through.
On the other side, she paused and took a deep breath. Faunon caught the smile on her face and relaxed. “Are we there?”
She indicated the magnificent citadel on the top of the hill. Between the two and the grand structure was a well-groomed field of high grass and blossoming flowers. Sharissa could not recall a sight that had ever filled her with such relief and happiness. She started to run, pulling Faunon along and shouting to him, “This is home!”
So thrilled was Sharissa that she would later have trouble recalling the trek from where they had materialized to the gates where her father and stepmother had been waiting.
“THEY WANTED US OUTSIDE,” Ariela told her stepdaughter. “We wondered why. I often wish they would at least create mouths with which to talk.”
“They might have to explain too much, then,” Sharissa returned. “I don’t think they would like that.”
The foursome stood in the courtyard of the citadel that was the main point of Dru Zeree’s pocket universe. They had spent the last two hours sitting and talking, learning what they could from one another about events here and overseas. Her father had offered them food and drink immediately, recognizing their need for both. Sharissa cast the simple spell herself, wanting to taste the pleasure of having her concentration and strength at more reasonable levels. She noted that it also seemed easier in general to complete a spell here than it had on the other continent. She pondered the theory that the land or the guardians might have had something to do with that, but decided not to mention it to her father for now.
Dru Zeree gave his daughter another long hug. “I thought I’d never see you again! When Gerrod vanished, I wasn’t certain whether he would find you! He was my only hope.” The master mage looked a bit uncomfortable as he added, “I’m sorry he didn’t come back.”
Ariela saved Sharissa the trouble of responding by turning attention to Faunon. “I thought I had seen the last of my own kind. I hope that Sharissa will allow you a minute now and then that I can usurp! It would be pleasant to discuss elfin life once in a while.”
“To be sure. You can tell me what it will be like living among the legendary, cursed Vraad. So far, the experience has been mixed.” Faunon smiled quickly so that no one would think he was having regrets.
“Perhaps you can start that now,” Dru suggested, putting an arm around Sharissa. “I would like to talk to my daughter for a few moments. Not long, I promise you. Both of you still need rest.”
“I’d like to sleep for a month or so,” the younger Zeree admitted.
“Only a short conversation, then.”
Faunon gave his thanks to the sorcerer for all the latter had done for him and allowed himself to be led away by the Lady Zeree, who knew that her husband would relate to her the essentials of the conversation when they were alone later.
Dru turned and admired some of the fantastic, sculptured bushes in the courtyard. So skillfully shaped, the animals they represented seemed ready to frolic. Such frivolity, however, was far from the spellcaster’s mind.
“So the clan of the dragon is no more.”
She walked beside him. “In a sense, the clan of the dragon now lives up to its name.”
His smile held little humor. “I suppose so. I don’t know whether to feel sorry for them or fear for us. We will have to make some changes, and I don’t think everyone will agree to them. Since the departure of Barakas, Silesti’s been talking of taking his followers and establishing a second colony.”
“That would be foolish!”
Dru shrugged. “It would be their choice. The triumvirate no longer has a purpose in his eyes.”
“But, if there does one day come trouble from the dragons…”
“By that time, Sharissa, we will hopefully be prepared. Let us not also forget that trouble might come from unseen directions, too. The children of the drake might prove our allies some day.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “Those things? Never! Father, if you had been there, seen Lochivan change and heard the voice of the silver dragon… you’d never say what you just did!”
He steered the two of them toward the direction that the Lady Zeree and Faunon had gone. “The Dragon of the Depths was here for a brief time. It left a simple message, but until you arrived and told us of events, I had no idea what the guardian was talking about.”
Sharissa waited, knowing her father would continue.
“The guardian said that I should take heart, that each race of kings began as tyrants and monsters but only this one can be taught to go beyond that. I asked what that meant and where you, Sharissa, were. The guardian ignored my pleas, though, and simply finished by saying that change never ends and we, more than anyone else, can shape our own future.”
Her father frowned, still mulling over the possible meanings of the statements. Sharissa, knowing that the colonists also faced the founders’ adaptations, understood better, but decided that explaining could wait until things had calmed again.
“That was all?” she asked.
“No, before that the sentinel warned that I should watch the Faceless Ones. Nothing more. I’d almost forgotten that.”
“And where are they?” She had not seen one since crossing. Even the one who had preceded them had not been in the field when they crossed.
“Around. They appear totally uninterested in your arrival.”
“They hide their true feelings well.” She paused and, while he waited with fatherly patience, admired the peace and serenity of the moment. So much had happened and so much was still to happen. The changes wrought upon the Tezerenee might look minor in comparison. Her own experiences had changed her forever, giving her an even wider realization of the importance of the colony’s survival and the place she might make for herself and her family. Burying herself in her work was fine, but it meant she missed some of the more subtle alterations. That would change. It had to change.
The children of the drake have their future, the determined woman thought. Now it’s time to ensure that we do, too.
Tomorrow would be soon enough, Sharissa decided. At the very least, she deserved one day of relaxation, one day to rebuild her strength for the coming onslaughts of change. She hoped Faunon would not regret coming with her.
Sharissa hoped she would not regret coming back.
“Shall we find the others?” her father asked, perhaps thinking that she was so tired that she was beginning to drift off in his arms.
“Let us do that,” the sorceress said, stirring herself and smiling at the elder Zeree. “And promise me that today we will all do nothing! Absolutely nothing!”
“If that’s what you wish. Now that you’re home, however, you will have all the time you want to relax and recover.”
Her response was to kiss her father on the cheek. As they departed the courtyard in search of the two elves, Sharissa thought that between family and the future, she would hardly have time to relax and do nothing after this day was over.
For some reason, it did not bother her that much.
XXII
IN THE GREAT Tyber Mountains, the golden dragon roared. Frustrated and angry at himself, he again took out his anger upon the tattered remnants of a banner and other bits abandoned weeks ago by the few frightened little creatures who had escaped him and his kind. They had fled to the south, but he had chosen not to follow them once they departed the mountains. The Tybers, his struggling memory recalled, had been given to him. He was lord here.
So many things strained to burst forth from the fog in his mind. He knew of the sorcery that was his to control, but actually doing so was still beyond him. It was beyond all of his clan. Each day, however, the dragon king knew he grew a little closer to understanding the magic. It was the same with the wings. They had only started growing out of his back in the last few days. Pathetic little things, they would someday aid him in claiming the heavens.
Wings and magic were things he desired; many of the other bits straining to be recognized only confused him. A name, something he, as monarch of this drake clan, did not need. All knew who he was. He had killed two others to establish that claim.
Reegan. Why did it seem so familiar? What were Tezerenee? And who was the tiny two-leg that dared be where no other of his kind did? The little creature wrapped itself in a cocoon of sorts and stared at the dragon king as if they knew each other. For reasons his mind could not cope with, the dragon found himself unwilling to chase this little morsel. Since it kept a respectable distance, he let it be. It was a sign of his greatness that he allowed it to live, of course.
The dragon tore at the banner again. There was not much left of it, but he was always careful to leave something. He found he enjoyed mauling the tiny piece of cloth, though why was beyond him. Being what he was, it did not seem important.
Sharp, reptilian eyes noted the shadows that suddenly covered the ground before him. The dragon that had been Reegan looked up and, seeing the winged ones he knew to be mortal enemies, he roared his challenge. Within the vast confines of the mountains, other drakes responded to his summons. The winged ones had taken some of their brethren for slaves, and that was something he could not tolerate even though the bird folk’s days were numbered. They might hold a thin advantage now, but the more time that passed, the sooner it would be to the day when the drakes ruled all.
The avians were descending around him. They meant to take him this time, it seemed. He roared yet again, calling his people and challenging the birds at the same time. When they were close enough for his tastes, the huge dragon charged.
As with the future itself, he would not be denied his place in this land.
SKINS
(A Tale of the Dragonrealm)
Life is only skin deep…
I
KALENA’S NOSE TWITCHED. Perhaps it had only to do with the constant smell of decay around them, but the tawny cat woman somehow felt otherwise. She pulled her cloak tight. This place disturbed her, set the very fur on her neck standing on end.
“There’s an old keep up on that hill,” the bearded human Brom pointed out. “Be as good a place as any to stay.”
The third of their party, the hulking, beaked Gnor, simply grunted. Like all Gnor, this seeming cross between an avian and a bear spoke little. Gnor were hired for their brute strength. They had no individual names and did not accept any nicknames from their associates. A Gnor was a Gnor and that was it.
But even the presence of the mountainous creature did nothing to assuage the slim feline. She tugged at her short, black mane, then cursed herself for such a childish action. She, Brom, and the Gnor had spent three years together as successful smugglers and had faced adversity in many shapes and sizes. They had slept in far less appealing locations than an old, abandoned keep.
“We’ll have to walk the animals the rest of the way, though,” Brom continued, already dismounting. The old breastplate he wore over his shirt rattled. On the front could still be seen the scratched-out shape of a wolf’s head. When Brom had relieved the Aramite’s corpse of it, the first thing he had done was to remove the hated symbol. No one, not even a smuggler, wanted to be mistaken for something as foul as a wolf raider.
Once they had ruled the continent, but now only a handful of lands still suffered under their command. Centuries of tyranny had been broken by a visitor from beyond the western sea—a magical, shapechanging warrior called the Gryphon. Under his leadership, the stricken realms had risen up and swarmed over the black-armored Aramites, sending most fleeing to their ships.
Neither Kalena nor her companions had played any role in the war, but they felt great gratitude to this Gryphon. After all, the downfall of the empire made business much easier and more profitable for those like herself. The Aramite had only had one simple rule for dealing with smugglers—if they were not sanctioned, they were hanged on the spot.
The Gnor dismounted from his own beast, a six-legged, broad-muzzled creature that passed for a horse among his kind. Kalena grudgingly followed suit, still wary. The overcast sky had already darkened the dank landscape and now the night promised to be completely black. Even her own exceptional vision would only be able to make out objects a short distance away. She wanted to suggest they move on, but knew that Brom and the Gnor would simply look at her as if she had turned coward.
What life remained in this region looked as sinister as the ruined keep. The trees resembled grasping fingers and the weeds teeth. The only sounds of animal life were the calls of the carrion crows. As they neared the stone edifice, Kalena again had the desire to turn around and ride off as quickly as she could. The animals, too, seemed anxious to go elsewhere, for they struggled against their masters.
Swearing, Brom finally tied his own mount to a hideous tree just beyond the wall. The Gnor did the same, then removed a huge ax from his animal’s saddle. The sight of the seven-foot-plus behemoth wielding the sturdy weapon erased some of the cat woman’s concerns. What in its right mind would face up to a Gnor?
“Light some torches,” Brom ordered her.
Happy to be busy, Kalena obeyed. She had the fire going quickly and soon handed the others their torches. Seizing the last, the cat woman gazed around at the entrance. A somber-looking gargoyle, one wing broken off, stared down at the intruders. Moss filled most of the cracks between the stones. The wooden door had fallen off long ago and what had not been eaten by te
rmites and worms lay off to one side.
“Looks to be pretty empty,” the bearded smuggler commented. He eyed the interior. “A stairway and some back rooms. We should check those out. Gnor, you take the downstairs”—Brom did not mention that the Gnor’s weight might make the stairway collapse—“we’ll go up.”
With a grunt, the hirsute giant headed to the back. Kalena and the human cautiously walked up the stairs. The wooden-frame structure protested, but did not give way.
At the top, Brom indicated that he would take the left, she the right. Each had two rooms to check. Kalena took some comfort in knowing that Brom would be within easy earshot, but she still drew her short sword. Unlike him, she wore only a thin, cloth hunting outfit under her voluminous travel cloak. Among her own kind, Kalena would have been barely clothed, but humans insisted on cumbersome garments, so she had made the best compromise. Even still, the low-cut top and slitted pant legs garnered the attention of many males.
The darkness seemed to close in around her as she stepped away from Brom. Forcing herself to focus ahead, Kalena reluctantly entered the first room.
A rueful smile spread across her full mouth. The torch immediately revealed nothing more than a dust-filled, cobweb-covered room bare of even a stick of furniture. No ghosts, no goblins. Holding the torch before her, she peered at the corners, but found absolutely nothing.
Feeling more and more foolish about her earlier misgivings, Kalena stepped out of the first room. Just one more to check and then she could rejoin Brom.
But whereas the previous chamber had been full of webs, the second was oddly clear, almost as if it had been constantly swept. It also contained the first furniture that the cat woman had seen in the entire keep. A tall, antique dress cabinet stood at the far end of the room. Scrollwork framed the polished images of rearing horses and handles made of what looked like gold.
The gold enticed her forward, as did the prospect that something of greater value might wait inside. Brom had regaled her with tales of smugglers and treasure hunters who had found valuables in the oddest of places. Why not here? At the very least, perhaps some antique object worth selling remained.
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 100
