only one, evidently, who saw both, depending on the whims of her subconscious. It was the most probable reason why she had become, without exception, the most adept of the Vraad. Even her father, who had learned from both his bride and the Faceless Ones, could not match her. What did confuse Sharissa was that Ariela, who had been conceived and raised on the other continent, also could not match her adopted daughter. The elf claimed to know of no one among her people who touched upon the powers with the ease that the young Zeree did.
There were times when Sharissa felt proud of her unique position… and times when it became a heavy burden and a threat. Among the Vraad were those like Barakas who saw her as a tool or were merely jealous of her abilities. Everyone tried to manipulate her, but she had learned to handle most of them. In the final days of Nimth, one of her father’s former lovers, an enchantress named Melenea, had used Sharissa’s innocence in a ploy that had almost meant the death of both Zerees and Gerrod Tezerenee. It had meant the death of her father’s familiar, Sharissa’s childhood companion. Sirvak had died defending his master and mistress from Melenea’s horrible pet, Cabal. That incident had steeled Sharissa’s heart. No one would ever use her again, not if it endangered those she cared for.
The presence was growing stronger, as if whoever it was raced toward the city… from the west, she now saw. The nearer to the city it came, the more astonishing its power was… and the more inhuman it seemed to be. No Vraad could possibly claim such ability, such otherness.
Father, she recalled with a start. I have to tell Father! It might be that he knew already, but one could never tell. Sharissa reached out to him with her mind, trying to establish a link. Linking minds was more chancy than it had once been, possibly because few now had the ability to maintain it long. In the case of her father and her, the trouble was compounded by the fact that Dru Zeree was not quite in this world, but in a compact dimension where the founders had built their last citadel before they had chosen to give their souls to the land. While those within could observe or contact the outside, breaking through the barrier from the true world was something only their blank-visaged avatars could do with any consistency, or so she thought. There were only theories as to how they communicated among themselves.
Father? She held her breath for a time, awaiting his response. When the familiar touch of the elder Zeree’s mind failed to manifest itself, Sharissa tried again. All the while, she felt the ever-closing presence of the outsider, the… creature. It made her wonder how the Tezerenee could have failed to notice such a being; Barakas might be a shadow of his former self, but he was still one to be reckoned with. How could he have failed to sense the coming intruder?
There was, as yet, no answer from her father. If he had noted her summons at all, he would have contacted Sharissa by now. That meant the only recourse was to go to him herself. Her expedition all but forgotten, she turned and headed in the general direction of the city square. It was there, in a bit of the city that by Dru’s own command had been left untouched, where she would find the tiny, hidden rift that was the entrance to the pocket universe of the founders, the place where her parents now spent most of their time. The path would be open to her, she hoped. There had been occasions when Sharissa had been forced to wait until her father departed his private domain in order to talk to him.
A few Vraad, making their own way to whatever projects held their attention, stepped aside as she rushed past them without so much as a glance. Whether they felt anything, she neither knew nor cared. If anyone else was disturbed by the newcomer, then they could follow her or come on their own.
One body did not move aside for her, and she almost ran directly into it. Sharissa would have collided with the other figure, save that a pair of strong hands caught her and held her still.
“What is it? Something must be amiss for you to go running blindly into folk!”
“Lochivan! I can’t talk! I have to find my father!”
The Tezerenee released her. “Then I will walk with you. You can tell me why you’re so upset that you have not teleported instead of wasting so much time walking.”
Sharissa colored. She stepped past Lochivan and resumed her journey. The Tezerenee fell in beside her, easily matching the pace. He had grown up on quick marches.
“I thought it would be best not to attempt such a spell,” she finally replied. Sharissa had never told anyone, not even Dru, why she so rarely employed such timesaving spells. Teleportation had been a dangerous, foolhardy thing in the last days of the old world, and it had nearly cost her father his life. The younger Zeree knew she was being ridiculous, but she had never gotten over her fear that one day a teleport spell would send her into some place from which she would never return. It was impossible to explain the feeling to anyone who could no longer perform the spell. They would have hardly felt sympathy for her plight.
“Why? What is it?” Lochivan asked, his brow furrowed. He was uneasy about something, perhaps several somethings. Sharissa wondered if he felt the oncoming stranger’s presence.
“Something… someone… of a different… I can’t explain it, but don’t you feel the approach of a presence in the west?”
“Is that what that is?” He glanced in the direction of the gate through which he and the others had entered earlier. “But anything that close… we should have seen it during our ride…”
“That’s what I thought, too.” A suspicion formed. “Did you, Lochivan? You are probably one of only two of your folk that I might expect a true, unmasked answer from. Did you see anything? Sense anything?”
“Nothing!” The vehemence with which he answered revealed his deepening worry. “There’s nothing west but forest and plains… and the seas, of course. Dragon’s blood! Seekers?”
He had come to the same conclusion she had. The magical guardians of the city, the founders’ ancient servants, had been her only other choice. Formless save when they chose to dress themselves in the very earth and rock, as the one the Tezerenee called the Dragon of the Depths had, the guardians felt of this world, this ancient place. Not so the newcomer. There was only the slightest trace of this world on the intruder, as if it had briefly been a part of this place but had, as Sharissa noted again, come from somewhere beyond. Since Nimth was closed off, that left only the other continent and its masters. It had to be the Seekers, yet were they not part of this world, too?
Lochivan paused and removed one of his gauntlets. “Sword and shield! What a time for this!”
Despite the urgency of the situation, she paused. Her companion’s presence was comforting, which soothed her enough to keep her thoughts from running too amok. It would be worth the time to wait for him, providing it was only for a few seconds. Besides, the frustration in his voice made her curious as to his difficulties. “What’s wrong?”
He reached in between his dragonhelm and his armor and started scratching with such a fury she thought he would draw blood. “A damn rash! Nothing deadly, but it’s spread around the clan quite a bit! The skin gets dry and stays that way! Sometimes it itches so badly that I’m forced to stop everything and scratch until… until it becomes tolerable again.”
Lochivan pulled his hand away and replaced the gauntlet. He sighed. “As it finally has, thank the dragon. It’s over. Get moving!”
A bit surprised that a warrior like Lochivan would succumb to a rash during a moment of crisis, Sharissa nonetheless said nothing to him and did her best to keep from revealing any of her thoughts. She would have to mention this plague of irritation to her father when there was time. It might only be a rash now, but who was to say what it might become in the future?
They had barely progressed more than a dozen steps before the sorceress nearly came to a halt herself.
Something was in the square they were trying to reach. Something that was the same presence she had noted outside only a few minutes ago! Now it was inside and ahead of them! Yet, it had just been outside-
“Serkadion Manee!” she uttered, stunned. The name of the ancient Vraad scholar was a favorite oath of her father, and she had picked it up over the years.
Lochivan did not have to ask what was wrong. As she turned and looked at him she could see that the Tezerenee felt what she did… Who could not? Sharissa scanned those Vraad standing or walking nearby. They were all pausing in their present interests and twisting about to stare in the direction of the square. A silence had fallen upon everyone in sight. One or two had enough presence of mind to make note of the duo moving toward the source of the disruption. To the young Zeree, they looked almost frightened. In their hearts, many Vraad feared that, now mostly bereft of their fabulous abilities, they would become easy prey for some outside threat.
That might very well be the truth, Sharissa realized.
“I have to teleport,” she announced, her words more to steel herself for the task at hand than to alert Lochivan.
