It was blind. Sirvak had done that much. Though it could still scent them, Cabal had no eyes whatsoever.
Sharissa did not care whether it could see or not. Dru looked up and saw both his daughter and Xiri moving to the stairway. Sharissa’s visage was cold and deadly. For the first time, she looked like a true Vraad.
To the horror of both her father and the elf, she called to the killer stumbling to its feet on the steps. “I stand above you, Cabal! I am up here! Play with me!”
“Sharissa! Get away!” Dru shouted madly. He hoped that at the very least he would turn the wolf’s attention to him. His head was nearly clear enough. If Cabal would just stumble around for a moment or two…
“Speak to me, Shari darling!” Cabal cried, again mimicking its mistress.
“I’ll do more than speak!” Rage fueled her words and her will.
“Come—” That was as far as Cabal got before flames engulfed the familiar’s entire body. The monster roared, both pain and accusation in its cry. Nothing else burned but the horrible creature. Even Dru, who lay nearly within arm’s reach of the magical killer, felt no heat.
Cabal tried one pitiful spell in an attempt to save itself. The attempt failed and with it the wolf. Howling mournfully, the blazing beast collapsed. The fire did not go out until there was nothing left of Melenea’s last ploy. Dru recognized the source of his earlier misgivings, the sense that Melenea still waited. He suspected that the tiny creature that had run over his foot might even have been the familiar. In its tiny size, it could move from place to place, wreaking the havoc its mistress had desired.
That was ended now.
Sharissa fell back, both exhausted and disgusted, but Xiri was there to catch her. The two Vraad looked at each other. Dru nodded and smiled, though he knew neither of them felt any happiness.
Outside, thunder announced the storm’s intention to continue on with or without the helpful influence of Cabal. The harsh noise brought them all back to the reality and the peril of their present situation.
“We have to leave as soon as possible,” Dru commanded, rising slowly and unsteadily from the floor. “Gather what you need and come with me!”
Sharissa could not speak, but she looked at Xiri. The elf was uncommonly solemn. “Sirvak… took care of all of that. The last of your horses wait for us below. We knew we could not stay much longer. When we tried to contact you to tell you to stay where you were, that we would be joining you, we could not find you.” She indicated the few traces of ash that marked Cabal’s fiery demise. “I suppose it was that one that blocked the link. Sirvak offered to fly ahead and find you. It already feared the worse.”
Not desiring to sound cold, Dru replied, “Then there’s no reason to remain. You two go to the horses.”
“What will you do, Father?” Sharissa asked, finally able to stand on her own. Her eyes were wide and gave her a hollow appearance.
“Find something appropriate for a shroud,” he said quietly, testing his own ability to stand unaided. He stared pointedly at the remains of his most loyal of servants. “Even if Sirvak died in Nimth, this place will not claim the body. I won’t let it.”
Sharissa smiled gratefully, then let Xiri lead her down the stairs and away from the tragic scene. Dru waited until he was alone. He knelt by the battered form and picked it up. As he carried it off, searching in his mind for something that would give the familiar’s crushed body a proper sense of dignity and honor, Dru whispered to the limp form of the only one who had ever really known the pain in his mind and heart, because that one had been a part of him from its creation. “Time to go home, Sirvak. Time to rest… at last.”
XXIII
THE FIFTH DAY of their new life found the Vraad still alive and whole. The Tezerenee, while unwelcome by most, had proved themselves most useful. Their well-honed talent for things unmagical made them teachers for the rest. They were, in turn, granted a grudging sort of respect that Dru hoped would blossom into greater acceptance. He had no plans of fasting until that time, however.
They lived in the remains of the ruined city of the ancients. It had already been agreed that instead of building a new home, they would repair the one left for them. Few spoke of journeying out to create their own domain, though the Tezerenee did tend to live on the opposite side of the city. There was more than enough room. The city ran deep as well as tall. Many of the buildings were connected by underground chambers and tunnels that would take months, perhaps years to explore. They seemed harmless places, though Dru was leery about descending into them. He shrugged it off as a Vraad trait. After so many centuries of having so great an expanse of land to himself, it was difficult to completely accept the new arrangements. He was not the only one who felt that way, but neither Dru nor the others would have traded their present situation for the past.
Silesti continued to organize the bulk of the Vraad race. The triumvirate still worked. Dru continued to wonder how long that would last. Sharissa had told him he was just being a pessimist.
She was popular among the immigrants. Sharissa now walked confident among the others and her understanding ways helped greatly during a time when most were trying to cope with the changes. Sorcery was still a touch and go thing. Dru was the most competent, having learned from his new wife.
He and his elfin bride now stood near the place where they had uncovered the final lair of the founders. Dru had come here every day, expecting to find the rift leading to that place. He was curious what future the faceless beings had planned for the Vraad or whether they just might leave the refugees alone. Unfortunately, his efforts had, until now, come to naught. There had been no trace of the rift. He had walked the region carefully. It had been sealed.
Today, however, was different. When he had woken that morning, a familiar voice crawling through his mind had quietly said, Come to the place where we first met, manling. I will be there to greet you.
Sharissa was mapping the city for the benefit of all and was already out. She had taken to this new place better than any other Vraad had and was already undisputed leader whenever talk of an expedition to some sector was mentioned. Dru was pleased that his daughter had found a place for herself after the shameless way he had kept her trapped all these years for what he had thought was her own good.
Gerrod was the only person other than his own bride to whom Dru might have talked. The hooded Vraad, however, lived far from the rest of his kind. Not completely trusted by those the Tezerenee had abandoned, he was no more welcome among his own kind, not while Barakas still commanded. Gerrod had become too independent for his father’s tastes. The patriarch did not want his example to taint the clan. Dru had offered the young, shadowy Vraad a position as his second, but Gerrod had opted for his solitude. He also worked to redevelop the proper use of his abilities, but in ways that likely did not match those of the elves. Again, Dru knew that it, like so much else, was a problem not yet settled.
Only Xiri stood with him now, in the middle of the ruined square, but she was Xiri no longer. Her name was Ariela and the reason she had never told him her birth name was that in her clan tradition declared that the name be kept a secret, one which would be revealed first to the man she took as a mate. In a moment of truth after they had bound themselves to one another, the former Xiri had told Dru that she had let loose with the comment about her secret because she had been attracted to him from the first moment, despite his being a hated Vraad.
Dru sensed the presence of the guardian before it spoke to him.
The custom of mating was known to us through the ways of the founders. We congratulate you. We also give our sympathy, as best we understand the emotion, for the death of your trusted servant.
“Thank you.” In the emptiness of this place, Dru felt more comfortable speaking out loud, even if it was to a being that had no form. He wished the guardian had not mentioned Sirvak; after five days, the pain had not grown any less. Dru could push it aside, but it was still there.
Your efforts with your
people are also to be commended, manling.
This was leading up to something. Dru could feel that. He held on to Xiri—Ariela—as if he might be torn from her at any moment.
We are departing this plane now, Dru Zeree, but we will continue to observe. The question of how to deal with those who are and are no longer our masters remains unsettled and may never even be settled, something you might understand. This, however, we have decided. No one will interfere with them or attempt to harm them in any way. It is very likely that they will take the action themselves, but if that is beyond them now, we will act instead. All of your people will wake tomorrow with this knowledge in their heads.
“Then why summon me, if you plan to inform everyone?”
I come to that in a moment. The guardian hesitated, then pushed on more quickly. Nimth is sealed off. It could not be destroyed without affecting this world. It, for all your sakes, should never be sought. Only trouble will come from the chaos that is now Nimth.
That was easy enough to obey. Dru wondered why anyone would want to open a new path to the mad world.
Now we come to the answer to your question. It was not my idea to summon you here. I act only on their behalf and it may be that I have understood them wrong.
“Them?” Ariela asked, her tone indicating that she knew who it was the guardian spoke of.
The Gate materialized before them, tall and frightening. The dark, reptilian forms raced along its edges as usual, but their eyes were always focused on the two figures standing nearby.
From the Gate’s maw emerged two of the faceless beings. There was still no telling them apart and Dru decided it was not worth the effort. The two blank-visaged figures stood across from the couple and waited.
It was the guardian who broke the silence. They want to teach you. They want you to care for this land. Most of all, I believe they want your help in keeping the future alive.
Dru could sense that it was true. Whether it was an attempt by the creatures before him to communicate their desires or simply something he read into their stance, Dru could not say. The sorcerer only knew that he understood them, to a point. He and others like him would be guardians of sorts, just like the mock dragon and its kind.
No, much more, added the entity. You will still be a part of the future; you are too essential to be denied that. The others are not yet ready to be left to their own devices. In some ways, I will envy you. You have an ending, a destiny. You and yours will change and grow where we no longer can.
The sorcerer turned to his wife. Dru knew what his decision would have been if he had never met her. This was a partnership, however. “One last journey?”
She smiled at him, as ready as he to take on this challenge providing they were together. “One last journey, wicked Vraad.”
The featureless figures stepped aside for them. Dru looked into the sky at the last moment, as if by doing so he would see the guardian. “What about Darkhorse? He’s the one thing I still feel bad about. You had no right to send him back to that place, even if it was somewhere out there he came from.”
If the dweller from the Void, as you have called that place, returns, we will not exile him again… and I think the one you call Darkhorse will most definitely return. It might even be that from where you go you will be able to aid him in his efforts.
“One more thing, then. Do you think our race will succeed? Do you truly hold any hope for us?”
I do now. The guardian’s voice was fading. Its task was done. More important, so do they.
Dru gave the departing entity a grateful smile. When he could no longer sense its presence, the sorcerer turned to his wife, who indicated her readiness by squeezing his hand.
They walked through the portal and stepped into the room of worlds.
The chamber was filled with more of the faceless, cowled figures. To Dru’s surprise, they bowed to the newcomers. One of them, possibly the closest they had for a leader, walked up to Dru and extended a partially formed hand in an unmistakable gesture.
Dru clasped it and nodded, for some reason at last truly feeling at home.
CHILDREN
OF THE DRAKE
I
WHAT DO YOU think?” Rayke asked, prodding at the feathered corpse at their feet. The body, nearly petrified, was that of one of the Sheekas, the lords of the land. It was manlike in form, had walked upright and had the usual limbs. It was winged as well and covered from head to clawed foot with feathers. The face was very avian, even down to the eye structure that forced a Sheeka to cock the head to the side so as to focus on a target, and the beak was designed for rending the toughest of flesh. Besides these natural weapons, the Sheekas had cunning minds, too, a formidable combination that had allowed them to rule for several thousand years.
Rayke seemed disappointed, as if someone had deprived him of some dark pleasure.
Seen together, the two elves who stood over the sprawled form might have appeared to be brothers. They were of a similar height and both were clad in the same forest-green outfit that consisted of a shirt, pants, shin-length boots, and hooded cloak. Both had light-brown hair that only barely covered their curved ears, and eyes that were the color of spring.
Physical appearance was where the similarity ended. Faunon, younger than Rayke by a hundred years though each looked as if he had seen no more than thirty summers, often thought that his companion was, by far, more blood-thirsty than even the old ones who clung so tightly to the ways of pomp and circumstance that they were always challenging one another to duels. It was fortunate, then, that he and not Rayke had been put in charge of this expedition into the lands of the avians… or what had once been their lands. So far, they had only found those hapless victims like this one, Sheekas who had fallen prey to some spell they had unleashed in an attempt to rid themselves of their rivals, the more ancient, armadillolike Quel.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the spell had proven more detrimental to the spellcasters than to the intended targets. The Quel lived in the southwestern portion of the continent, so there was no telling for the time being what damage they had actually suffered. A party of elves was headed that way and, if they returned, their information would be pooled with that of this band.
“I think,” Faunon finally replied, recalling Rayke’s question at last. “I think that they must have made a terrible mess of trying to reverse their spell, whatever it was. This can’t be the result they wanted,” he concluded, stating the obvious because one had to do that sometimes with Rayke.
Faunon turned around and gazed at the massive peaks to the north. Somewhere in there was an aerie, that much they knew. It was still occupied… the elves had seen one or two Sheekas fluttering among the mountains… but by only a token flock, not the massive horde that had lived there only a decade before. The inhabitants there had suffered not one calamity but two in the past ten or so years. There was evidence of a third group that had come and gone like the wind… yet who had seemed to clean up after themselves so as to leave little trace for the elves. All that he had discovered was that this other race had fought the Sheekas, held their own against the large flock here, and then abandoned the place for somewhere else.
But where?
“Let’s go back to the others,” Rayke muttered. He looped his bow around his head and his left arm. The question of the third group meant nothing to him. The council had ordered them to discover the extent of the damage to the empire of the Sheekas, not an easy task since the birds did not have an empire as elves understood it but rather vast communities that controlled great regions of the continent. As far as Rayke and most of the others were concerned, their duties ended there.
That was one problem with his people, Faunon thought as he stepped back from the rock-hard corpse. They either had no inclination toward curiosity whatsoever or they were obsessed with finding out about everything under the sun. No moderation save in a few individuals such as himself.
“Just a minute more, Rayke,” he returned, putting just enoug
h emphasis in his voice to remind the other elf who was in charge here.
His companion said nothing, but the flat line of his mouth spoke volumes enough. Rayke had angular features that reminded Faunon of a starving man, and the look on his face only added to that effect. Angular features were not uncommon among the elves, but Rayke’s were more severe than most. Faunon’s own visage was a bit rounder, more pleasant, so some of the females of his tribe were apt to tell him time and time again until their lilting voices got too much on his nerves and he had to excuse himself from their company somehow. There was another problem with his people: when they saw something they wanted—or someone—they became very, very persistent. He sometimes wondered if he was really one of them.
“Well?”
Faunon started, realizing he had lost track of things. Doing so in front of Rayke made it doubly annoying. He pretended instead that his daydreaming was actually a collecting of his thoughts. “Notice anything wrong with this?”
“With what?”
“The bodies and the land.”
“Only that there are a lot of the former scattered around the latter.” Rayke smiled, pleased with his clever response.
Faunon kept his own face neutral, trying to hold back his anger. “And the land seems relatively untouched, doesn’t it?”
The two of them scanned the area, though each had done so several times already. There were inclines where it was obvious that there had been none before, for trees and bushes jutted at angles no self-respecting plant would have chosen, almost as if something had dug up the ground and then only halfheartedly tried to repair the devastation. A few trees appeared to have withered and petrified much the way the avian dead had, but most of the wooded region seemed fairly healthy overall. Still, Faunon found it astonishing that he was the only one who had paid any note to the peculiarity of the landscape.
The other elf lost hold of his smile. “It does. We’ve come across some areas where the land was overturned, but, even there, the plants and smaller animals were thriving.”
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 66