It was up to Dru. He cut off both the patriarch and Silesti as each attempted to talk. “No more of this! Vengeance has never done us one bit of good! Silesti, we respect one another, but both of us have been responsible for things as terrible as what the Tezerenee have done! In their position, you might have acted as they did! True?”
He knew he had been correct when Silesti could not answer. Still, it was too soon to congratulate himself. They might yet be at one another’s throat. “This is a new world, both of you! This is not Nimth. This world will not let you destroy it without it trying to destroy you beforehand.” Dru played his final card, the one that would strike the two warring Vraad at the heart of what they believed in. “Look at the power of the guardians. They move us as easily as we might carry a handful of dirt. The peace is their one demand. Which of you is willing to disappoint them… and to explain yourself when they come to find out the reason why?”
Silesti’s swallow was audible. He had watched time and again as Vraad after Vraad were taken away to the guardians’ chosen destination. There was no denying the power of something that swept up groups of the sorcerous race without effort.
Across from him, Barakas, too, was having his second thoughts. As the one sentinel had said, the patriarch was one who would bear watching in the future. Now, however, he looked from Silesti to Dru and then back to where his people lay dead. He had seen how easily the dragon being had dealt with the avians and how simple it had been to take the surviving Tezerenee and displace them. Yet, the dream of conquest was not completely forgotten, not even now.
“I will not offer my friendship,” the patriarch finally replied. “But I will offer my cooperation. Silesti, it was never my intention to leave the rest of the Vraad race behind. However, it was the fault of my own blood, so I must take ultimate responsibility.”
It was as close to an apology as one might ever hear from the lips of the lord of the dragon clan. Silesti knew that. “I offer my cooperation, too… provided Dru Zeree is the final arbiter.”
Though he had expected that something such as this would eventually develop, Dru wanted desperately to decline. He had performed more than his share in the name of the Vraad race. All he wanted now was to rest. Yet he knew that an uneasy triumvirate, which was what had apparently formed here, had more chance for stability than a simple alliance between two rivals left unchecked. It would be up to Dru to keep the peace, as he had so many times already.
Barakas was nodding, his eyes having flashed to Dru in time to note the sorcerer’s reaction at being chosen for the unwanted position. “Agreed, if Master Dru also agrees.”
He had no choice. “I agree.”
No one even suggested they shake hands.
Dru exhaled slowly, relieved that this, at least, was over for the moment. There were other matters demanding his attention, matters that had twisted his gut throughout the Tezerenee recovery. “Silesti! My daughter and my… my bride. Did they cross safely?”
Silesti shifted his stance, looking more like a child caught at some mischief than a master sorcerer. “No one has emerged since the group that arrived immediately after you. I sent Bokalee back in to see what was the matter.” The Vraad looked embarrassed. “He still has not come back.”
“Not returned? And you left me unsuspecting?” Dru searched for the first available mount. A winged drake belonging to one of Silesti’s new followers was the nearest. Without a word to the others, he raced off toward the animal.
“Master Dru!” Gerrod called. “Wait!”
“Zeree!” bellowed the patriarch.
They were nothing to him at the moment. His success in bringing the Vraad race to the true world and of binding, if not actually healing, the wounds between the Tezerenee and the rest would mean little if Sharissa and Xiri failed to cross before Nimth was sealed off by the guardians.
“Give me that!” he ordered. The stunned rider handed the reins over to him. Dru leaped onto the drake’s back and urged the creature upward. It fought for a moment, uncertain as to what this stranger was doing riding it, but Dru’s raging will overwhelmed it. Spreading its massive wings, the drake rose swiftly into the heavens.
The trip across was a blur, even more so than the last. Dru stared at the transposed landscapes without seeing them. Visions of Sharissa and Xiri, even of loyal Sirvak, were all he saw. The drake, which had begun to renew its struggles when it had first realized its new rider intended on reentering the ghost lands, flew as swiftly as it could, as much out of fear of the sorcerer as of the unsettling region around them.
Nimth welcomed Dru back with a storm that made his own rage a minuscule thing in comparison.
He had underestimated both the speed and the danger. Whirlwinds were everywhere. Lightning dotted the ground with craters. Dru made out what might have been the scorched remains of one or more Vraad, but he was too high up and the weather too fearsome to take the time to look closer. He only prayed that those he searched for were not among the dead.
The haze that represented the worst of the magical storm had not quite reached the castle, but it was closing fast. If what he had seen so far was only the precursor, Dru knew that no one would survive the maelstrom before it died.
Droplets splattered both rider and drake and the mage’s first thought was that it was, against all odds, actually raining. That thought died as his mount roared in agony and Dru discovered that the liquid was burning holes in his clothing.
As he steered the injured animal down to the courtyard, he made out several Vraad trying their best to organize one final cross-over. There had to be several hundred. More than a few would die before the rest made it. He was gratified to see, however, that the remnants were working in as orderly a fashion as possible. They had evidently already suffered the effects of the acidic rain, for most of them resembled nothing more than walking piles of cloth and armor.
How could his estimates have been so off, he wondered. What could have pushed the storm to greater intensity?
Several Vraad spread out as he landed. He handed the shrieking beast to one of those who dared to wait despite the danger. “How long before you leave?”
“A few minutes! No longer!” said the muffled figure.
“My daughter?”
“No one has seen your whelp!”
Dru abandoned both his mount and the helpful Vraad and stumbled inside to the safety of the castle.
“Sharissa! Xiri! Sirvak!”
There was no response. He tried to reach them with his mind. Whether Xiri would respond was questionable since they had never tried to link, but he hoped that one of the others…
Masterrr?
Sirvak! Where are you?
In your work chamber. The mistressesss seek to hold back the worst of the storm! Something has upset the balance, Mistresss Sharissssa says!
Let them know I’m coming! he commanded, already moving toward that direction.
They know.
Dru broke the link, the better to think over the situation. What his daughter and Xiri tried to do was a losing cause, but if they could buy everyone a little more time, that would be sufficient. A few minutes for those outside to depart and a few more for the three-four counting Sirvak-to follow.
He was up a short flight of stairs before he realized the stairs should not have been there. The breathless spellcaster looked about. He was heading away from where he had intended on going. The castle’s ability to shape itself to the whims of its master had gone beyond the boundaries he had set on it. It was now shifting nearly randomly. There was a chance that he might never reach the chamber where they worked.
Sirvak?
No answer. Something kept the link from forming. Something blocked his mind.
A huge something blocked his path. Dru had a momentary vision of teeth, blue-green fur, and eyes that reminded him too much of a lost enchantress before a massive paw struck him on the left side and sent him hurtling against a wall that seemed to form just for the purpose of stopping his flight. The Vraad slid to the floor, his bones vibrating from the shock and his head threatening to split in two. His eyes would not obey his needs and he could
