“Leave her, Gerrod. There’s no time to get her out. As it is, she probably would have been left behind, regardless.” There was a trace of regret in his mother’s face, but she was hardly willing to risk one of her offspring being left behind. Alcia despised Melenea as much as any being did, but there were higher priorities than the daughter of Dru. “I do not think Barakas will wait too much longer before he decides to finish the cross-over. Some of the outsiders have been raising a fuss. The coming has broken up.”
Gerrod rubbed his chin. “How long left?”
“By dawn, your father wants everyone over. He will be the last to go.”
“How brave.”
She gave him a silent reprimand. “I cannot promise he will hold a place for you even that long.”
“Then damn him, Mother!” He would have thrown the notebook, but recalled in time what vital information it held. “Perhaps I’m better off here!”
Lady Alcia wrapped her cloak about herself. In the flickering light, she looked as if she wore a shroud. “It may be so, my son.”
Gerrod found himself alone. Snarling, he buried the notebook in the deep confines of his own cloak and also departed, leaving the keep of the Tezerenee and possibly his own future to the whims of crippled Nimth.
Where it had still been day in the tiny, hidden world Dru and his companion had discovered, it was now night. With the return to the ruined city, the sorcerer’s weariness and hunger had increased a hundredfold, as if being in that other place had held back time for a space. Dru found concentration impossible, despite the threat before him. This time, the spellcaster knew that there would be no second or even third wind; his body had reached its limitations. He prayed that Darkhorse was still fit, else the two were lost.
The Seekers were late in noticing the newcomers, concentrating as they had on their captive. The elf was the first to become aware of the tall figure astride the demonic steed and it was her inability to hide her shock that alerted the avians to their danger. In the pale light of the one full moon, Dru knew that he and his companion must appear fearsome, but appearances and reality often had little in common. He clutched Darkhorse’s mane tightly to keep from falling and whispered, “You have to deal with them! I… won’t be much use!”
The shadow steed’s laughter rang through the night, bouncing eerily throughout the skeleton of the once- mighty place. “They are hardly a matter of concern! Hold tight!”
“Don’t hurt the elf!” Dru added, suddenly fearful that the Seekers’ captive, possibly someone who might verify what the Vraad had guessed about the worlds within worlds, would perish in the course of the ebony stallion’s rampage.
“Is that what you called an elf? Have no fear! It has not made itself worthy of my caring attention yet!”
Dru shivered. His companion, growing more and more comfortable in his form and role, was also growing more frightening.
The avians scattered, two carrying the prisoner into the sky while she fought them tooth and nail, crying out words that Dru, holding on for dear life, could not understand. One Seeker foolishly held her ground, locating but fumbling with her medallion. Darkhorse ran through her. The sorcerer, pressed against the entity’s backside, caught a brief flash of a horrified visage… and then the female was no more.
“Ha! Let that-” The words never came. Dru heard a swish! and then he was being thrown into the air, his grip broken as easily as the sorcerer might have snapped a twig beneath his boots. He lacked the air to scream and so could only wait in silence for the ground to come up and shatter his body. His thoughts refused to go beyond his imminent destruction. The moons flashed by twice, a glimmering circle and a dim slash, one crimson and the other the pale of death, and their appearances remained fixed in his mind even as he noted that his descent was about to come to a very final finish.
No, said a voice within his head.
The earth was cheated of its prey. Dru felt everything freeze. Though his eyes were open, he could see nothing save the memories of the moons. It occurred to him that no sounds could be heard and he wondered what had become of the Seekers and Darkhorse.
No interference, came another familiar voice.
We are beyond that, added the third, almost eagerly.
We are, agreed the first. They have all come to this place. To not interfere is to allow all else to fail.
Dru could feel endless voices arguing for and against what the first being had said. Though the argument seemed to go on forever, the confused sorcerer knew that only seconds had likely passed when it drew to a conclusion. In the end, the first being’s opinion was upheld, but only barely.
That was the last he knew. The world, all worlds, ceased to be of any import to him.
You are Vraad.
The defiant sorcerer nodded, not knowing where he was or how he had come to this place from the chaos of the ancient city. Dru looked around, but could make out nothing save the chair he sat on and his own body. He felt refreshed, capable of doing combat with the strongest of adversaries, but knew better than to attempt any assault now.
He cannot be Vraad! They are rejected!
It was the second voice again. The tall sorcerer stared defiantly into the darkness and said, “I am Vraad! I am Dru Zeree!”
He has life! the third being mocked. Of the three who acted as speakers, this was the one who repelled Dru the most. It reminded him far too much of Melenea and her games, of how she looked at everything in life as some wicked game.
Games… I like that! We have played such a long, boring game… until now! the third commented playfully.
A cold sweat formed on Dru’s brow. He shielded his thoughts better, though he supposed the effort was little more than futile. In these creatures Dru had found power that dwarfed even that of his companion.
What is the thing? asked the first.
When the sorcerer finally understood the question, he shook his head. Answering the question could do him no more harm than he was already due. “I don’t know for certain. I met Darkhorse in an empty place I call the Void. He seems to come from there.”
There was silence as he felt the beings mull over his words and his thoughts. They did not reprimand him when he spoke out loud and he wondered if they had their limitations as Darkhorse did or whether they merely knew he felt more comfortable hearing his own voice in this place where other noises did not exist.
How did he come to be here? the second voice asked. Of the three, it seemed the most indecisive.
You have seen it, the first reminded. They seemed indifferent to the fact that Dru listened into their conversation.
It was not made to be that way.
It was too long ago. You know that time drains, time turns all away from the purpose.
And we do nothing! Always nothing! the third interjected with disgust. We who have the power to do anything!
Such is not our purpose. The response came from several minds and reminded Dru of nothing so much as a litany repeated from generation to generation.
Our purpose is dead!
Perhaps, shot back the first. Perhaps not. It may be these Vraad who provide what the masters sought.
“What?” Dru blurted out. He cursed himself even as he spoke. The debate had already given him an insight far greater than he could have hoped and now he had brought himself back to their attention.
All of them must be returned to their places with their minds cleansed. This was a new voice.
The first voice, the one who seemed most commanding of the unseen beings, replied, The Sheeka and the Quel cannot be cleansed of their knowledge so easily. Neither can we touch the elves here, who serve as we do, though they do not know why. Would you have us interfere more than we have already?
There is no real choice! the sinister third voice said, cutting off any other response. It is time we took control!
No!
Dru screamed and clutched the sides of his head in vain as he sought release from the multitude of shouting
