Pain and then total emptiness rocked her. The baffled sorceress screamed, knowing that what she had felt was death. With great effort, she forced the chilling sensation down and opened her eyes.
The patriarch’s second force had engaged the avians, who were trying to both retreat and fight. Lochivan’s mount flew by, though she only got a glimpse of the Tezerenee himself. Of the Seeker who had been trying to communicate with her, she could see nothing.
“He fell among the drakes yonder,” Faunon informed her, knowing who she sought. “There probably is not too much of him left.”
His cold tone received a vicious glare from her. He stared back at her in defiance. “I saw that he was about to die. I have seen what has happened to those caught up in a linking of minds when one dies. Sometimes the survivor goes mad… or simply drops dead. That was why I was shouting at you!”
“He was telling me… telling me…” Sharissa’s head swam.
“Were you injured?” another voice asked, disturbing her recollection of what the avian had tried to warn her about.
“No, Reegan, I was not.”
“They’re trying to retreat,” the heir apparent informed her. Even though there was still combat going on, he no longer seemed to care. Sharissa was more important. Had it been Faunon or Gerrod, she would have been pleased by the attention. Not from this one, though. Never from Reegan.
“They’re being slaughtered,” she corrected him with grimness.
The attack had been, in the long run, a pathetic last gasp by the bird folk, and now they were paying dearly for it. Darkhorse was still out there, either killing them or-and she felt guilty for hoping it was the former and not the latter-dead from one of their spells. She did not care for what the Seekers were, but her brief contact with them had at least made them worthy of some respect. Knowing they could not hold back the invaders, one of them had tried to at least warn them of some threat.
But what threat?
Mountainsides were no longer safe for the avians. The airdrakes ferreted them out and, in many cases, tore them apart without any command issued by the rider. Some Seekers proved more fatalistic; Sharissa saw one female throw herself upon the nearest warrior, even though it meant exposing her undefended back to the other. She died from a drake’s slash, but not before her own talons took out the throat of her opponent.
Barakas was coordinating the reorganization of the column, leaving the bulk of the fighting to those in the air.
“They must have been desperate to pull such a stupid stunt as this,” Reegan added. “I expected more from them.” He laughed for no reason that Sharissa found humorous.
Faunon shook his head. “They were desperate, yes, but never stupid. Not the bird folk. If they did this for any reason,”-he looked at Sharissa-“we will know about it before long.”
“What’s that?” The patriarch was riding over to them. There was blood on his armor from some encounter. He was in a jovial mood, as if something he had feared lost had been found again. Sharissa noted he was breathing heavier than she would have thought. The battle, as short as it had been, had taken more out of Lord Barakas than she suspected he thought.
This was her chance. As much as she yearned to study the treasures left behind by the founders and those who had followed them, the desire was far outweighed by the knowledge that the caverns also held an apparent evil that frightened even the once-mighty Seekers. It had, if she understood the images thrust upon her by the dead avian, brought about the downfall of their empire.
“Barakas, this is our last chance to turn back. If you would just listen-”
“Turn back?” The clan master was flush with enthusiasm now, which possibly meant that he had not been as confident as he had pretended to be prior to the attack. “I should say not! We’ve eliminated what little threat remained to us! There will be no more Ivors now, no more hidden threats!”
“But there’s something in the caverns that-”
“The elf’s tale again? I thought better of you, believing nonsense like that… or perhaps you don’t. Perhaps you’re just trying to spread fear, as he tried.”
“I saw one of the damned birds try to attack her, Father,” Reegan offered. “It’s likely shock or some nightmare cast by the beast before it was skewered.”
Barakas found that acceptable, stilling any further argument from Sharissa with a wave of his hand. “I’ll hear no more of it, then.”
The two captives looked at one another. Faunon gave her a brief, bittersweet smile. The sorceress bit her lip, but knew the cause was lost for now, if not forever.
The Lord Tezerenee had already forgotten her. He turned his eyes skyward, where two drakes were descending upon the group. One was the creature Lochivan utilized, a mottled monster larger than any of the rest by almost half. The other likely belonged to whoever had been placed in charge of the secondary force.
“Ahh, here they are!”
Remaining seated, Lochivan saluted his sire. “Was it satisfactory, Father?”
“Most.” Barakas scanned the region once more, as if afraid he had missed something important the previous times he had looked around. “And still plenty of daylight with which to work.”
The newcomer to the expedition scratched at his neck until a glare from his lord made him pause. “As you predicted, Father, the demon made a perfect signal. We could hear and see his battles from where we waited.”
“Did you doubt it, Wensel?” One hand touched the box. “It might be a good time to call him back, I think.”
Lochivan was squirming in his saddle. Sharissa was certain that he, like Wensel, wanted desperately to scratch, but knew better than to do so in the presence of Barakas. Possibly because he sought to keep his mind off the itching, Lochivan asked, “What are your orders, sire?”
The box was forgotten for the moment. “I want the entire force ready in a quarter hour, save for those needed to flush out the few surviving birds. I want us moving on immediately after that time limit has expired! Do you understand me?”
Once more Sharissa would have liked to attempt to convince Barakas of the danger awaiting them, but once more she knew that he would not listen, that her warnings would only fuel his desire to be there sooner.
Faunon whispered, “Courage. This is something we must go through now. If they are going, it is better that we do, too.”
“Separate those two,” the patriarch commanded, pointing at Sharissa and the elf. “His words have been twisting her resolve. Until I say otherwise, they will remain separated. Lochivan, I give you charge of the elf. Reegan, you protect the Lady Sharissa.”
“Yes, Father!” The heir smiled at Sharissa, who turned away only to find her eyes resting on Kivan Grath.
Barakas followed her gaze. “Yes, there it is. So very near now.” He turned his mount toward the north and the mountain, but not before adding, “With any luck, my lady, we will be camping at the foot of that mountain this very evening! Maybe even the outermost caverns, if the sun holds true!”
“Why not fly there now?” Reegan asked. “There’s nothing to fear.”
“And no more reason to hurry. This is our world now, Reegan. We have all the time we could ask for in which to explore its treasures and shape it to our tastes.” Barakas studied the sun. “Which does not mean we shall dawdle here any longer. You have your tasks; be about them. Reegan, you and the Lady Sharissa will come with me.”
“My lady?” As the heir apparent urged his mount next to hers, Sharissa could not help thinking of the Seekers, who had once ruled this domain and were, in so many ways Barakas could not see, similar to the Tezerenee. They, like the patriarch, had probably once thought that time was their servant, not their enemy.
The avians’ empire had lasted centuries, perhaps even millennia. Now, riding again toward the towering Kivan Grath, the place of the Seekers’ folly, Sharissa wondered if Barakas’ empire would even last out tomorrow.
