XXII
“Dru Zeree. Gerrod. I hardly thought to see either of you again.”
“Yes, it’s a pity, isn’t it, Father?” the patriarch’s son retorted.
“You’d do better than to speak that way to me.”
Dru ignored the exchange, surveying the carnage that the surviving clan members had still not succeeded in clearing. Bodies dotted the area, both Vraad and Seeker. Not surprising, the Tezerenee had taken their toll on the attackers. They would not survive a second major assault, however, not as reduced in numbers as they were.
“Lochivan came to you, didn’t he, Zeree?” the Lord Tezerenee asked, his eyes burning as he noted Dru’s interest in his losses. “He has lost his nerve.”
“He’s regained his sanity, O conqueror father!”
“Gerrod, be quiet.” Dru wondered why the guardian had chosen to include the hooded Vraad in the confrontation. For that matter, there was no sign of the guardian itself. He could sense its presence, but it had not yet made itself known to Barakas. Why?
The younger Tezerenee quieted. His father glared at the two, as if actually wondering why they had come. Having silenced, for the time being, the argument, the robed sorcerer chose to press on. “We’ve crossed, Barakas.”
“Obviously.” Several armored figures, now aware of the newcomers, had been drifting toward the trio. More than one pointed at Gerrod. Dru began to understand why the shrouded Vraad was with him. Gerrod was one of them, but had been abandoned back in Nimth. Now, he stood in their midst, facing his father. He served as a beacon, something they recognized from a distance that they knew should not be here.
“Not like you,” Dru continued. “We found a true path, one that allowed us to cross physically. More are coming. The entire Vraad race will soon be across.”
The patriarch’s face was as pale as bone. “You have my congratulations and my growing impatience. Why don’t you tell me why you’re truly here? Terms for surrender? Is that what you want? Do you think we will turn our lives over to those who would love nothing less than our living hides stretched across racks where they could inflict us with whatever tortures suited their desires?”
As horrifying as the image might be, Dru could not deny that there were those who would have gladly done exactly as the patriarch had said. Yet he also knew that the Vraad were capable of other things.
“Let the past fade with Nimth, Tezerenee! The time has come for the Vraad race to meld itself into a people, not a vast collection of spoiled and sadistic individuals.”
Dragon warriors, female and male, now surrounded them completely. Barakas glared at them, but did not order them back to their grisly tasks. “We need nothing. The clan will survive!”
“Is this survival?” another voice challenged. Heads turned in simultaneous fashion as the Lady Alcia strode into the center of the circle. She was still the warrior woman, beautiful, elegant, and deadly, but there were signs of exhaustion evident in her visage. “How many of the children you purport to love must die? Anrek and Hyria are among the bodies!” Her cool facade began to crumble away before their eyes.
Dru could not place the names and neither, it appeared, could the patriarch. He brushed them aside by turning back to the fate the Tezerenee would supposedly receive at the hands of their cousins. “We might live longer by returning to the fold, outsider, but what is life when pain is all that you offer?”
“I can’t promise you that the clan will be accepted without conflict. If I did, I would not blame you for turning away and walking off. I’d do the same.”
“Things have changed, Father,” Gerrod offered. “Most of the people have changed, though I doubt forgetting will be possible.”
“That was Rendel’s doing! If I could…” Barakas clamped his mouth shut, the Lady Alcia’s expression warning him of the potential for personal disaster if he carried his anger at his son further.
Dru glanced at Gerrod, who turned his way and shrugged, his shadow features an emotional mystery. Neither of them felt it was the time to discuss Rendel’s demise.
“All this talk is nonsense!” Barakas straightened to his full height. His presence was nearly overwhelming. Everyone stepped back or froze save Dru. He had faced the bearlike Vraad before and would do it again. “Nonsense! We will all perish unless we combine! This is a land we must struggle to tame, a land we must take by force from the monstrosities that abound here! There is no other place for us to go!”
Do not tell him of me yet! the guardian’s voice suddenly warned Dru, speaking only to him. Tell him only that there is another place and it can be reached. The time is not yet right! Let him hear all before…
Before what? Running a hand through the silver band of hair he had given himself what seemed a millennium ago, Dru told Barakas, “There is a land beyond the seas in the east. We have a way of reaching there and a way of ensuring that the Seekers-the avians-do not disturb us. There will be land we can tame and time for us to renew our strength. Relearn our sorcerous skills as well. This is a world where different paths must be taken than those that turned Nimth to the rotting shell it now is.”
Hopeful gazes and encouraging whispers spread through the Tezerenee and the handful of outsiders who had come with them and survived the attack. Barakas seemed to weigh his words.
His answer will be the same, said the guardian to Dru. He has set his own path and can find no way to turn from it without his pride and mastery suffering. There was some hint of surprise in the guardian’s tone. He would rather they all die here, futilely battling to the end. It is a thing I have watched all too often. It is one of the reasons so many hopes failed over the endless aeons.
What can we do?
Stall a few moments more, that is all. He will have his excuse to accept your terms.
What does that mean? the sorcerer asked. Dru received only silence as an answer. A chill ran through him. The guardian was planning a show of strength, so to speak, something more than his eruptive appearance from the earth. That should have been enough by itself. Certainly, it had impressed Dru. Yet he recalled that once he had known the wolf would not attack, he had lost much of his fear and wonder. This guardian planned a lesson of some kind, then… but what?
“You have betrayed your position, Zeree,” the patriarch said, suddenly drawing strength from somewhere. The mood of his people sank as his own rose. They were so used to being controlled that no one even spoke out, even though it was their own future, their own lives, that were at risk. “The Vraad have always subsisted on their magic. All Vraad save the Tezerenee!” Barakas looked triumphant. “Even in a land without danger of foe, you would be unable to survive. None of you know how to exist long without the aid of sorcery! Sickness, hunger, accidents, weather… all factors that you do not understand! If anything, you need us! You need our knowledge, our skills at survival! It might be better asked that instead of we joining you, you join us!”
“Astounding!” Gerrod muttered. “Lochivan had the same arrogant offer! In the face of so much death, you can still be so damned demanding!”
Be ready! came the alert from the guardian. It would say nothing more of what it planned.
The air was filled with the now much too familiar sounds of great wings beating.
“They’re back!” one of the Tezerenee shouted. His voice did not sound eager or determined, but rather almost terrified. For all their battles in Nimth, they had never faced a true foe in so great numbers.
“Barakas-” Dru started.
“This is the time to fight, not flap your mouth, Zeree! You’ll find escape by teleportation impossible; they have some way of countering it with their blasted medallions!”
The Tezerenee were already doing their best to organize for battle. Two flying drakes were brought up. Weapons of every sort materialized in hands. Archers were already positioning themselves. A few confident souls were doing their best to work themselves into a will strong enough to cast competent spells.
Lady Alcia remained behind as her husband ran off to direct his people. “Master Zeree, if you have anything that will aid us, as you seem to indicate, this is the time! If not, you will surely die with us!”
Gerrod whirled on Dru. “What has that blasted bit of living magic put us into? Would it not have been sufficient to merely drop us from a great height and see if we can cast a spell before we splatter on the ground?”
