create an even worse problem for her.
You are too romantic to be a Vraad, her father had once told her. Perhaps so, but she felt no reason to change, even if it meant hurt.
“There will be time for discussion later,” Barakas interrupted, evidently deciding there were better things to do.
Sharissa quieted, hoping that Faunon would see things clearer if he had time to let his emotions cool. He might then see what fear could do to even the bravest of creatures. The elf did not know Darkhorse; he could not see the child that the eternal was. Recalling her own youth, not that distant in the past, Sharissa knew the limits of a child, even as strong a one as the dweller from the Void.
Ahead of them and high in the sky, the dark form soared out of sight.
Securing the box, Barakas told Reegan, “We move out now. The confusion will be to our advantage.”
“Yes, Father.” The heir turned and signaled to the column.
The Tezerenee readied their weapons and spells. Lochivan rejoined the scouts, who, once he was settled on his steed, urged their mounts into the air. Lochivan’s band circled the column twice and then spread out ahead of it.
“We are in the company of madness,” Faunon whispered.
Tilting her head just enough to see him, Sharissa once more tried to explain Darkhorse’s apparent weakness of spirit to the elf. He cut her off with a look and whispered, “The anger was more for their benefit. I understand all too well the limits one faces. If not for your suggestion, I would have likely broken soon, anyway. These dragon men are very skilled at what they do, especially the pleasant one.”
She glanced up at the tiny figures of Lochivan and his airdrake. “I once thought I knew the true man.”
Faunon grimaced. “You probably do. His pleasant attitude is no game, so far as I saw. He would probably smile while he cut your throat if something amused him.”
“That’s-” The Vraad was about to say that the elf’s words were cruel, but then she recalled her most recent encounters with Lochivan. If it benefited the clan and his father, Lochivan would have indeed cut her throat, all the while explaining that he hated to do it but there was no choice in the matter. His lord and master had ordered him to do it, and thus there was no room for argument.
An invisible wave struck Sharissa. She moaned and nearly lost her grip on the reins. Her mind was on fire, and she had a great urge to unleash her power at random if only because it was what burned her.
To her side, Faunon shouted, but she could not understand his words. Several Tezerenee were also shouting, one of them the patriarch himself. The pain-riddled enchantress put a hand to her head, but the pressure within was too much. She started to slide to her right. Part of her knew that if she fell from her drake she would be trampled by one of the others, for the reptilian mounts had grown skittish, but Sharissa lacked the concentration to maintain her grip.
An arm caught her before the sorceress could slip very far. At first she thought it was Faunon, and so she smiled. Only when things came into focus did she see that it was Reegan who had saved her. He had backed up his mount and put himself between the two captives. Over his shoulder Sharissa could see Faunon burning a hole with his eyes through the Tezerenee’s wide back.
“Are you well?” he asked, genuine concern tempering his otherwise gruff voice.
“Yes… I am.” She disengaged herself from his grip as quickly as she was able, but not before his hand slid down her side a bit. Her smoldering expression made him release her that much quicker, and he immediately urged his drake forward. Reegan did not look back even when he was once more near his father.
“I tried to get to you,” Faunon informed her, their mounts once more side by side. Bound to his animal by the magical chains, his mobility was limited. “But he was over here as soon as it hit us. I was lucky he did not push me off my animal! His eyes carried that intention!”
“What… what happened to us?”
“The demon has met the enemy,” Barakas declared. He gazed back at the young Zeree with excitement radiating in his every movement, every breath. “The first blow has been struck, I think.”
A second later, a blue light flashed in the distance. It was bright but brief.
The patriarch turned back to see what startled his people so, but missed the light. Reegan informed him of what had happened. Barakas nodded.
“We can expect more such waves and probably worse before this is over.”
“They might kill him!” Sharissa raged. “You were able to capture him! What happens if they kill or capture him?”
A shrug. “Then it will amount to the same thing. If he’s captured, I can hardly let him be turned on us, especially you. I think your black friend would agree with me on that.”
She pulled back in shock at his response. “You’ll kill him?”
“Eliminate the threat to our security, yes. Darkhorse would never want to bring harm to you. He would prefer my way, rest assured.”
From another point nearer to the column but to the left of the previous location, a rumble and minor explosion brought renewed silence to the Tezerenee. Sharissa was both relieved and dismayed by the second blast; it meant that Darkhorse still survived, but it also meant that he had probably killed for her. If the Seekers lived in such a weakened state as the sorceress had been led to believe from the evidence, then it was possible that they might have left the expedition alone. Not so now. Now, there would most definitely be an attack. The avians would know that Darkhorse was controlled by the Tezerenee, and if they could not destroy the weapon, they might be able to destroy the one who unleashed it instead.
It was apparent that Barakas thought the same. He ordered his men to even greater caution, if that was possible. As swift and accurate as the shadow steed was, he would not find all of the Seekers. They were too skilled, too crafty for that, even if they were mere reflections of their former might.
The column renewed its steady crawl toward the caverns. According to Lochivan, the late Rendel’s notes had indicated that his brother had titled the mountain Kivan Grath. That had brought a harsh laugh from Faunon, who understood the meaning of the name.
“Kivan Grath,” he had announced in grandiose tones. “‘The Seeker of Gods’! How very, terribly true!”
Asked to explain, the captive elf returned to his tale of ancient sorcery and some dark thing now lurking in the depths of the underground caverns perfo-rating the mountain.
The selfsame mountain had been in sight for the past few days, looming over even its taller neighbors by quite some height, but now it was nearly the only thing they could see before them. Regardless of whatever else lay in sight, Kivan Grath overwhelmed the scene. It was still hours away, but a casual glance might lead one to believe that no more than a single hour would be needed to reach it. The leviathan’s size wreaked havoc on perspective. Everyone had trouble believing it could be so tall; they were more willing to believe that it must be closer than the patriarch had estimated.
A second wave of random magical force washed over the riders, but this time they were at least prepared for its coming if not its intensity. It was terrible enough that the land here radiated a power of its own; the forces unleashed by both the Seekers and Darkhorse added a new dimension of fear. So far, the only effect was a twisting, churning sensation that touched every spellcaster-and that included most of those assembled for the expedition. The longer they were forced to endure it, the more chance it might affect them in other, more horrifying ways. No one had forgotten Ivor.
“We should turn back!” Sharissa argued as the second wave passed.
No one but Faunon paid heed to her words, and he was not in any condition to follow through on her suggestion. The Lord Tezerenee acknowledged her comments, but replied, “It will be over soon. The first expedition found only a few scattered flocks.”
She was not satisfied with his response. “What if they hid the bulk of their strength for when you returned with greater numbers? How much better to snare many rather than a few! We could be attacked from all sides at any time!”
To her surprise, the patriarch nodded. “I expect to be attacked-and at any moment!”
“But… you can’t be serious… Darkhorse is…”
“He is,” Faunon said, the elf shocked nearly as much as Sharissa was. “Look at him. He has ridden us into the tearing beak of the bird folk… and performed the deed willingly!”
Turning away from the two stunned captives, Barakas laughed. The sorceress scanned the high ground on
