moment. It’s too late to turn things back!”
A mocking laugh made the embittered sorcerer start. He knew it was not the laugh of the servant he had been speaking to. He knew which of the entities now enjoyed his discomfort.
It will be easier than you think!
He was alone in his mind again. Around him, the wind died abruptly, a sign that the guardians had abandoned him.
A moan behind him reminded Dru that he had been promised someone who could guide him.
“You… you are not an elf or one of those monsters, are you?”
The Vraad turned to his new companion. “Obviously not, as you can see.”
She was slighter than the dead female he had seen earlier, but identical in appearance otherwise. Her hair was bound back. Her eyes scoured his form, at last resting on his visage. Dru doubted that it was because she found him attractive.
“You are Vraad.”
He looked at her with renewed interest. “How did you know that?”
The elf rose, doubling the distance between them as she did. Loathing coated her words. “We thought we had left you behind forever! Now all of our work is for nothing! There’s nowhere left to hide! No hope of turning this insane sorcerer’s experiment in our favor!”
A knife materialized from her left hand. She had moved so quickly, Dru would have almost sworn it was magic.
“I will still get the satisfaction of killing you, though!”
XIII
I’ve given up my future… and for what? The imbecilic child of an outsider!
Gerrod knelt behind a ridge on the outskirts of Melenea’s domain. She could not possibly know he was so near, not if his calculations based on his brother’s work were correct. This region would be in the midst of one of the greatest instabilities existing, nearly as great as the area where the fool Dru Zeree had vanished. Already, the hooded Tezerenee had caught glimpses of a ghostly elsewhere that he knew had to be the shrouded realm intruding into Nimth. Would that his father’s so-called Dragonrealm would fully overwhelm the decaying world. Then, at least that problem would be solved.
It would still not solve the Vraad problem concerning colonizing a land that Gerrod felt wanted nothing to do with his kind… and that was likely why he had finally, in the hours since his last words with his mother, chosen to stay clear of the city. Missing the cross-over had likely cost him his life, yet he had not cared enough to abandon his plan to rescue Zeree’s daughter.
There were more reasons than that. A matter of honor probably held as much sway as his insane fear of the land beyond the veil. His progenitor had questioned his abilities, and like any good Tezerenee, he had fallen into the trap of honor. He had gone out to redeem himself even if it meant his end.
Gerrod swore under his breath. He could go around and around with his reasons, some of which even he would have admitted were complete mysteries, but that would not remove Sharissa Zeree from the ministrations of the viperous Lady Melenea.
“Masterrr Gerrod!” Beside him, crouched low, was Sirvak. The familiar was in what seemed to the warlock a constant state of frenzied anxiousness. “She could be dead! She could be dead!”
“She’s not, Sirvak. Now be quiet.” He was, admittedly, a bit uncertain himself. Things had taken much longer than he would have liked. Day, such as it was, had returned to Nimth before he was confident enough of his own plan. All of it had depended on just how well the temptress’s home was being affected by the instabilities.
“It must be as physical as possible,” he reminded Sirvak. “Trust sorcery only when needed.” Sirvak, out of necessity, had drawn first strike. It could fly. Gerrod would have to trust to small teleports and simple running.
“Understand, Masterrr Gerrod.” Eagerness suddenly flooded the familiar’s unsettling eyes. Its mistress was within the citadel. It had the help of a powerful ally, one it could trust as much as Vraad could be trusted. Gerrod could see that it would perform its task to perfection or die valiantly in the attempt.
Under former circumstances, the Tezerenee would not have feared for himself. Even Melenea had respected the clan of the dragon. With anarchy soon to erupt (if it had not already), she would have no qualms about killing both Gerrod and Sharissa. Worse yet, death might prove slow in coming. Gerrod respected Melenea’s deceit. Her citadel might be one massive trap waiting to be sprung… if his theory proved inadequate.
The shrouded images of the other realm grew more distinct. “Go now!”
Sirvak leaped into the air and was gone from sight a moment later.
The wait tore at Gerrod’s patience. His active imagination conceived of every flaw, every overlooked threat. His memories reminded him of Melenea’s past games. He shivered.
When the time finally arrived for his part, he was thankful. His mind turned to the patriarch as he rose.
“Charging headlong into the enemy. I am your son in the end, just as Mother said.”
He dared to teleport.
Sharissa woke, knowing she had slept for quite some time, but barely able to keep from falling once more into a deep slumber. She struggled against the urge, forcing herself to a sitting position.
A form shuffled near her. Through sleep-filled eyes, the young sorceress caught sight of the overwhelming form of Cabal, Melenea’s familiar. The massive blue-green wolf yawned in her direction, once more revealing to her a multitude of savage teeth.
“Mistress says for you to lie down. To rest.” Its rough voice assaulted her ears and made her head pound.
“I’ve rested long enough. It’s day outside, isn’t it?” She shifted closer to the edge of the furry bed. Doing so seemed to clear her mind more.
Cabal did not answer her. Unlike Sirvak, the wolf seemed more an extension of its mistress. What was it the creature had said to Melenea? The words were slow in coming, but Sharissa finally recalled them.
I obey knowing my life is yours or something to that effect. She frowned. Not at all a pleasant phrase. It almost indicated that Cabal expected death if it failed in its duty. Not like the Melenea that Sharissa knew.
With the wolf following every movement, she dared to stand. There was a brief instant when the sorceress thought the familiar was about to pounce on her, but it turned out Cabal was only resettling itself so that it could watch her better. Though it seemed foolish to believe anything would happen to her here, Sharissa could not help being cautious.
“Cabal? Where’s Melenea?”
“The mistress rests also. She has worked hard. You should rest, too. Sleep until the mistress comes again.”
“I’m not tired.” It was true. Now that she was away from the soothing confines of the bed, Sharissa was wide awake. It was almost as if the bed encouraged slumber.
Cabal said nothing more, but it continued to play the role of sentinel.
Sharissa wandered about the room, admiring the statuary and other items that decorated it. During her arrival, she had only given the chamber a cursory scan. Now, however, the young Zeree was able to study detail. The capering figurines at first seemed comical until she leaned forward and looked again. Up close, the expressions on the tiny faces gained a cruel twist, as if the statuettes had no desire to play whatever game it was they played. She also read new actions in their movements. Instead of dancing, it seemed more likely that they were fleeing or, at least, trying to flee. Unsuccessfully, too.
Disturbed, Sharissa turned from her inspection of the figurines and walked toward one of the windows. This one faced the direction of her own home, and though she knew seeing the Zeree dominion from Melenea’s citadel was impossible, Sharissa felt an undeniable urge to seek it nonetheless.
The heavens were one massive cloud of putrefying green that rolled and twisted within itself, seeming to gather strength in the process. A storm of gargantuan proportions was preparing to rage. The novice sorceress temporarily abandoned her initial desires and turned to better view the growing storm. Its center, she suspected,
