and his sons from less conspicuous posts. It was their way.
Dru Zeree had once explained to him that the last of the ancients had released their spirits into their world, giving the lands themselves a mind of sorts. The golem forms provided by the patriarch’s plan had offered an opportunity for that mind to provide itself with hands to further its work, an apparent oversight the founders had not thought of until it was too late. Barakas had never known how much of that explanation to believe and did not really think it mattered. What mattered was that an army of ghosts had stolen not only his creations, but the empire he would have had if the rest of the Vraad had been forced to swear fealty to him in return for access to their new world. Worse yet, each of the walking monstrosities reminded him that a part of him lay rotting back in foul Nimth… unless some scavenger still living had already devoured him.
The gates closed behind them, the magic of Dru Zeree flaunting itself once more. As hard as he had strived, he could not match Zeree’s abilities. Even his counterpart’s daughter, Sharissa, was more capable. Yet another bitter pill he had been forced to swallow each day of each year.
A few Vraad wandered about, looking much more scruffy than they had back in Nimth. Without nearly limitless power to see to their every whim, they were being forced to maintain their appearances through more mundane means. Some were not proving adept at the process. They wore robes or shirts and pants, all fairly simplistic in design considering the extravagant and shocking garments most of them had once worn. Several Vraad were clearing rubble from another crumbling dwelling. They were sorting out the good pieces for use in either building the structure that would replace this one or for some other project, perhaps another useless tower. To Barakas the working Vraad looked more pathetic than industrious.
The gods have fallen, he thought. I have fallen.
Still, the city had regained bits of its ancient glory. Someday, it might be completely whole again. Children were becoming more numerous than they had back in Nimth, though that was not quite so impressive as it sounded when one considered there had rarely been more than a few dozen young at any time during the old days. Near- immortals with no taste for familial relationships did not tend to make ideal parents. Those few who chose to do so generally ended up fighting their offspring at some point. Barakas, in creating his clan, had turned that energy outside rather than inside. His people, the only true clan in Vraad society, now numbered over one hundred again, not including additional outsiders who had sworn loyalty to him during the past decade and a half. Children were rampant in the section of the city that he had taken over.
Some of the locals turned away at sight of the three Tezerenee. The patriarch ignored them, their anger being both misdirected and petty in his eyes. Faced with the loss of the majority of the golems, Barakas had sent his own people through, effectively abandoning his former allies for the most part. If they wanted to blame anyone, he had argued in the beginning, it should be the Faceless Ones themselves. He had acted as any of them would have acted. The clan came first.
At least they were no longer clamoring for the deaths of every Tezerenee. It had been the dragonlord’s people who had helped them cope with their new, mundane lives, for the Tezerenee were adept at surviving with only their physical abilities. Barakas felt justified in thinking that this colony would have been dead if not for his folk. Even Dru Zeree and Silesti, the third member of their triumvirate, could not argue with that. There were not enough adept sorcerers to guarantee everything.
His thoughts were disturbed by the appearance of a tall, well-formed woman with flowing silver-blue hair that nearly fell to her waist. The white dress she wore clung to her form, marking its perfection. Her gait indicated a confidence she had never had before her arrival in this world. She was possibly one of the most accomplished spellcasters they had now, though, being less than four decades old, the newcomer was little more than a child by Vraad standards.
She was Sharissa, daughter of Dru Zeree.
Barakas pulled back on the reins, slowing his mount in gradual fashion so as not to appear overanxious. He glanced quickly at Reegan, whose eyes were wide as he followed every movement of the young woman. The patriarch had been encouraging his eldest to pursue the lone offspring of his rival for quite some time, and Reegan had been only too eager to do just that. While Barakas prized her for her status and sorcerous abilities, he knew that his son saw her in more coarse terms… not that the patriarch could deny her beauty. Sharissa had changed somewhat in the time since their coming. Her face was rounder, though the cheekbones were in evidence. Like other Vraad, she had crystalline eyes, aquamarine gemstones that grew brighter when they widened. Her brows were arched, giving her an inquisitive look. The expression on her face seemed to be one of mild amusement, but Barakas knew that it was actually because her mouth curled upward naturally.
“Lady Sharissa,” he called out, nodding his head.
Her thin yet elegant lips parted in what he knew was a forced pleasantness. She did not care for many of the Tezerenee-save self-exiled Gerrod, came the unbidden thought. Barakas quickly smothered any further notions concerning that son. Gerrod had chosen his own way, and it had meant a hermetic life that defied everything Barakas had taught his people. As far as the patriarch was concerned, the relationship had ended there.
“Lord Barakas. Lochivan.” She smiled at them, nodding in return, then finally added, “Reegan. How do you fare today?”
“Always well when I see you,” Reegan blurted.
Barakas was almost as surprised as Sharissa at his eldest’s words. The young Zeree colored a bit; she had not expected such complimentary bluntness from the hulking figure. The patriarch held back a smile. She could hardly claim that he had engineered that comment. It was too obvious that Reegan’s stumbling words had been his own. For once, his son had taken the initiative. If there was one thing that Sharissa had no defense against, it was honesty.
“How is your father?” he asked, filling the silence that had started to grow too long for his tastes.
“He is well,” Sharissa returned, looking a bit relieved. For all her skill and knowledge, she was still naive in the ways of relationships. Her father had kept her away from most of the other Vraad for the first twenty years of her life-and she was less than twenty years older now. A short time to the long-lived Vraad race.
“And his mate?”
“Mother is also well.”
Barakas took note of her use of the term. The Lady Ariela Zeree was not Sharissa’s mother; she was not even a Vraad, but an elf from this world. Dru’s daughter had never really known her birth mother, though, and she had come to care for the elf so much that it seemed only natural to call her father’s mate mother. Barakas hid the distaste he felt. The elf was a lesser creature, wife of Zeree or not. She did not belong among the Vraad.
He realized that Sharissa was waiting for him to say something more. It disturbed him that he found himself drifting off so much more of late. Had it something to do with the white hair he had discovered of late… or the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes?
“Lady Sharissa, you know a little about those creatures, don’t you?” Lochivan suddenly asked. He did not have to elaborate as to what creatures he referred to. Everyone knew he meant the Faceless Ones.
The Lord Tezerenee glanced at his younger son, but held his peace.
“I know a bit.” She was cautious. Like most of the Vraad, she was ever wary of their desire for domination. Barakas wanted very much to assure her that she need not have worried; there was already a place for her among them. Such vitality and power could not be wasted.
“Have they shown any purpose? Do their actions mean anything at all? All they do is stare… if you can call it that, since they have nothing with which to stare! I keep thinking they know something. Fifteen years of staring must have some purpose! It’s gotten worse during this past year, too!”
She was interested; the patriarch could see that. Sharissa was interested in anything that had to do with her new world. “You noticed that? They seem more attentive of late; I thought that, too. I can’t think it means us any harm, however. They want us to thrive.”
Do they? Barakas wanted to ask. Again, as with so many other things, he held his tongue.
“What about your father? Dru works with them in their citadel. Surely, he knows more.”
Sharissa shook her head, sending fine hair cascading back and forth. Reegan was having trouble keeping his interest in her from growing too obtrusive. He had always had that trouble.
“Father always says it’s like working with a jigsaw puzzle with more than half the pieces missing. Somehow, they teach him things, but he never realizes it until afterward.” She smiled at Lochivan, seeming to forget for the moment that he was a Tezerenee. “It frustrates him no end.”
“I can imagine.”
