Sharissa knew she should warn him about something, but the pain at the back of her head made it impossible to recall exactly what it was that the hooded figure had to beware of. By then, it was already too late. She felt the chamber shift around them, melt away, and become another place.
“Dragon’s blood! This isn’t where I wanted to go!”
“You’re… you’re lucky to have made it at all,” she managed to gasp out. “We might have ended up in the shrouded realm… or some place even farther away!”
Gerrod’s laugh was bitter. “That might have been better for both of us! Look about you!”
“I can’t… wait… my eyes are clearing.” The blow, obviously her unwanted companion’s doing, had blurred her vision. The teleport spell had not helped matters. Fortunately, as the pain eased, her eyesight returned to normal. “Where have we… Serkadion Manee!”
“I think Father’s betrayal has angered the rest of the Vraad.” The sardonic tone in Gerrod’s voice was unmistakable.
They stood in what had once been the courtyard of the Vraad communal city, a place where only days before the race had first started to gather for the coming. It was a city now ravaged by those who had created it and who, Sharissa suspected, would likely greet a Tezerenee and the daughter of the patriarch’s supposed ally with even deadlier fury.
XIV
Barakas, Lord and patriarch of the Tezerenee, the clan of the dragon, gazed at what would be the beginning of his new empire. Gone were the ways of old Nimth, when he had been forced to share the world with so many arrogant and maddening outsiders. Now, only a handful of outsiders remained, all manageable. Most of those were female, too, for the patriarch knew that to start any new civilization required new blood. He had kept his clan to certain numbers because of the restrictions of space in Nimth. That was no longer necessary.
“Those mountains over there.” He gestured at the same peaks Rendel, days ago, had set out for. “I want them explored.”
Reegan looked abashed. “We have no flying drakes and our powers work haphazardly, sire.”
“Do not state the obvious with me, Reegan. I have trained you to do what you must to obey my commands. See to it that what I say is done.” Though Barakas almost looked peaceful, his eldest son, reading into the patriarch’s eyes, bowed quickly and rushed off to see what suggestions some of his brethren might have.
Lady Alcia, stepping away from a conversation with someone who was either a daughter or a niece-Barakas felt it unnecessary to try to keep track of all of his people as long as they did what they were told-joined her husband as he surveyed the fields and forest around them.
“You seem flushed with excitement,” she murmured.
“I have a world to conquer. I have my people to obey me. What more could one ask for?”
“Your son?”
Barakas looked at her in distaste. “Which one, my bride? Rendel, who betrayed us once he was on this side of the veil, or Gerrod, who failed to do anything I asked of him?”
“I can’t say anything concerning Rendel, but Gerrod did as he was commanded. You never paid attention to that fact, however. It may interest you to know that I ran across Gerrod before I returned from our old keep. Even though time was running out, he was determined to find Dru Zeree’s daughter, as you commanded, despite the fact that he believed she was a ‘guest’ of Melenea.”
“I waited as long as possible, Alcia. You saw how they were acting. Any longer and we might not have crossed in time.” The patriarch’s attention wandered to where Lochivan was trying to look busy. He still feared his father’s wrath, though there was nothing he or the others could have done to prevent the disappearance of the golems. That had been Rendel’s province. “Lochivan!”
“Father!” Despite the fear, the Lord Tezerenee’s son rushed to his side and knelt. “You have a task for me?”
“This will be our initial camp. Begin expanding our perimeter. We need drakes, too. If you-”
Both Lochivan and the Lady Alcia looked at the patriarch, curious as to why he had stopped speaking.
“There!” Barakas pointed a finger at one of the nearby treetops. A horrible, agonized shriek filled the ears and souls of the assembled Tezerenee, all of whom turned to stare in the direction of the cry as if mesmerized by the strident sound.
A winged figure, now only a corpse, plummeted to the earth. It landed with a dull thud, a crumpled and twisted rag doll. Even from where he stood, the Lord Tezerenee could see that while it was avian, it was also humanoid. It had most certainly been spying on them, so he knew it was also intelligent. He wondered how long it- and likely others-had watched his people, all the while undetected. Though Barakas had appeared to know where the spy was, it had actually been a fluke; he had spotted a movement as he had surveyed that part of his new kingdom. No one would need to know that, however.
Pain abruptly wracked the hand from which he had directed his deadly spell. Barakas swore and rubbed at the sore spot. He felt as if part of his assault had backfired, though there was no method by which that could have happened so far as he knew.
“Lochivan!” His pain was assuaged a bit by the speed with which his son came once more to attention. “This is a hostile region! We have an enemy to confront! I want the immediate area cleared of any other spying eyes.”
“We dare not trust our power, Father. Already, three who attempted spells have been injured. There is something amiss with the magic of this world.”
Barakas released his injured hand as if nothing had happened to it. “I felt nothing. The spell worked as it should have.” That was not true; it had been his intention to capture whatever had lurked in the tree for interrogation or, if it had proven to be merely an animal, examination as a potential food or sport source. For some unfathomable reason, he had unleashed a spell more powerful by at least a hundredfold. “I have commanded; your duty is to obey.”
“Father.” Lochivan bowed and backed away. It was evident in his movements that he would have preferred the patriarch’s reprimand to such an impossible task. Yet, being Tezerenee, he would work to fulfill Barakas’s command, no matter what the cost.
The Lord Tezerenee gestured to two clan members who stood nearby, still stunned by what their master had done. With their helms on, he could not judge whether they were his children or merely relations. It did not matter as long as they performed their duties. “Bring that carcass to me. I want to know what our enemy is capable of.”
The Lady Alcia tried to bring the conversation back to Gerrod. “If you could only-”
She was cut off with an imperialistic wave of one gauntleted hand. “Gerrod is dead. Everyone back in Nimth is dead… or as good as dead. I will hear no more about them.” Anticipation tinged his next words. “We must prepare for our first battle. It will be glorious!”
As she watched her husband stalk off to oversee the disposal of the monstrous corpse, the matriarch frowned. Barakas had found new playmates, actual adversaries. There would be no turning him from the task he had set for himself now. The role of conqueror was at last his to claim. Gerrod was no more than a soon-to-be- forgotten memory, as far as the lord of the dragon clan was concerned.
Glancing at the limp bundle of flesh being dragged to the waiting patriarch and thinking of what other potential dangers the new world might yet offer, the Lady Tezerenee wondered if the clan itself would be such a memory before long.
“Perhaps it would be for the best,” she murmured, then strode off herself to help organize her people for the coming threat.
Vraad and elf faced each other, eyes locked. Considering the speed with which she moved, Dru questioned his chances of unleashing a spell before the knife struck home. He also wondered what sort of sorcery she might have to back up her assault, for the stories had always hinted that to some extent the elfin race had had its share of potent spellcasters. Somehow, he could not see the knife as her only weapon; his Vraadish mind-set could not
