demon steed had rescued his companion. There were four limbs, a tail, which was made at least partially from a column, and, if one stretched the imagination to the limit, a head.
Only when it opened its mockery of a mouth, revealing teeth formed from jagged, broken pieces of stone, did Dru identify it as any particular beast.
It was, as the wind had whispered to him, a wolf… more than forty feet tall.
XI
“Do you like my home, Shari darling?”
“It’s so… alive!” the younger woman breathed. Melenea’s citadel, what Sharissa could see of it, was awash with gay colors and glittering crystals. Silk was everywhere. Figurines of fantastical design capered and celebrated. A furry carpet that Dru’s daughter was tempted to lose herself in covered the entire floor. Bright candles lit up the vast room they had materialized in, candles whose flames were of all sizes and more than a dozen different flickering colors. Panoramas of women and men competing in game after game covered one wall. The Vraadish symbol of gaming, used most often when announcing a forming duel, was the centerpiece of the wall across from the entranceway of the chamber. It would be the first thing someone saw when they entered here. The symbol consisted of two masks, one crying and one laughing, with the former partly obscuring the latter. Sharissa knew that the masks represented the basic aspects of the Vraad mentality.
Her father had summed it up in his own special way. “When your enemy flaunts his weakness, look to your back. When your allies grow too friendly, trust in your enemies.”
Sharissa was not certain she liked what she read into her father’s definition, but she allowed that there was probably some truth to it.
“Have a seat, sweet thing! Rest yourself. I know how terrible things have been for you of late. There’s so much I have to prepare, anyway.”
“I really couldn’t…” Despite her words, Sharissa wanted all too much to relax, to sleep. Her constant fears, the race against time, and the very dominant worry that it might all be for nothing, that her father might be dead, were taking their toll on her again.
“I insist.” Melenea shoved her backward. As Sharissa fell, the thick, shaggy carpet swelled upward, catching her softly in what was, a second later, a comfortable couch. The soothing fur encouraged the young Zeree to rest. “I promise that I will not forget you, Shari. You may count on that.”
It was too overpowering. Sharissa settled in and nodded, already half asleep.
“That’s fine,” the enchantress said, smiling at her guest. She raised a hand, palm upward, and formed a fist. When she opened it again, a small pouch lay within. Melenea took hold of the pouch and opened it. She reached in and pulled out a tiny, squirming figure.
Sharissa, though a part of her wondered what her companion attempted, could not rouse herself to do more than watch through half-closed eyes. Even when the tiny creature, now set loose on the floor, began to grow and grow, the novice sorceress simply stared. It was as if everything around her had taken on a dreamlike quality.
“Come, Cabal,” she heard Melenea say to the creature, a blue-green wolf already as tall as its mistress. It had fangs that seemed as long as Sharissa’s forearm, and though she was in no state to truly count them, she was certain that its teeth numbered more than a thousand.
When it was almost a foot taller than Melenea, the wolf ceased growing. Sharissa focused long enough to know that she was staring at the enchantress’s familiar.
“I live to serve you, lady.” The wolf’s voice was little more than a deep growl.
“We have a guest with us, Cabal. Her name is Sharissa Zeree.” Melenea turned and smiled at the younger Vraad. “This is Cabal, Shari sweet. It’ll watch over you so that you can rest easy. Cabal will let nothing happen to you.”
“Will I get to play with her, lady?” Cabal asked, eyeing Sharissa in a manner that seemed more suited for sizing up a snack as opposed to studying a potential playmate.
“Perhaps later. I have given you a duty to perform. You will watch Shari at all times, make certain she is secure.”
“I obey knowing my life is yours.”
“That’s as it should be.” Melenea stroked the head of the massive wolf, then stepped closer to Sharissa, who tried in vain to concentrate enough to rise. The beautiful enchantress sat down beside her and stroked her hair. “No need to rise,” she heard Melenea say, though the voice sounded as if it had passed through a long tunnel. “You sleep. Later, you’ll have my undivided attention.”
The kiss on her forehead tickled Sharissa, making her giggle rather giddily. Her last view of Melenea was of the sorceress rising and smiling to herself. The crystals she had gotten from Sharissa were in her hand. There was something not quite right about the image, for the smile had no warmth in it. Dru’s daughter shifted uneasily, rest momentarily put off.
Melenea had vanished by the time she forced herself to look again, but the familiar, Cabal, lay watching her from no more than ten feet away. It had an eager expression on its lupine visage, as if looking forward to something. Its size further unsettled Sharissa. She rolled over so that if she opened her eyes again, they would not settle immediately on the massive wolf.
The masks stared back at her.
Frustrated, more awake than asleep now, the young Zeree squeezed her eyes closed. Of all places, this was the one in which she should have felt most at ease. Here, Sharissa should be able to get the rest that she knew she needed. It was only a matter of letting her exhaustion take over again. That was all.
Lying on the floor, with its gaze ever on its charge, the huge Cabal opened its mouth wide and yawned its boredom. Its eyes glittered in the candlelight, black, pupilless things that never blinked.
Outside, a storm was brewing. Such was not uncommon on magic-torn Nimth and, especially, near the domain of one such as Melenea, who cast spells almost wantonly. There would be no rain… there was never any rain. Sharissa enjoyed the sounds of a storm even though she knew that the storm itself was a product of Nimth’s twisted nature. The thunder eased her troubled mind… and at last allowed her to sleep.
The stonework monster snapped its peculiar jaws closed, sending bits of mortar and marble flying. It was constantly losing pieces of itself, but new fragments continually replenished its form.
Go! Flee! The words sprang to life within Dru’s head unbidden. He was sorely tempted to follow them, but some deep, arrogant pride kept him from doing so.
Below him, Darkhorse shook his head, as if trying to clear it of noise. The sorcerer suspected that his companion was hearing the same words, that those words had been planted by the chaotic creature before them.
Fear! Death!
On cue, the leviathan stretched forward, snapping its make-shift jaws at them. A shower of dust and fragments threatened to smother Dru. Fortunately, none of the fragments was large enough to injure him.
“They are all around us, friend Dru! One of them has taken on this form! I find it interesting, but also highly annoying! Must it shout within our minds so? Does it need us to fear it so much?”
That was the question that the sorcerer had been asking himself. For all its size and apparent strength, the behemoth was holding back. Why? If it meant to destroy them, it certainly had the opportunity.
Darkhorse had said that one of the unseen beings-they could no longer be simply thought of as concentrations of sorcerous power-had clothed itself in this form. The beings had known about them since at least the huge, circular edifice, yet had not confronted them sooner. That meant that they were guardians, yet as guardians, would they not be able to strike back?
Somehow, Dru suspected that they could or would not. The only question remained-if it was a case of the latter, was there a point that he might cross that would unleash their strength?
“Ride forward, Darkhorse.”
“At our peculiar friend? Little Dru, you never cease to entertain me!” Laughing, the ebony steed pushed forward.
