They were, she had to admit, beautiful. Beautiful and sad, in retrospect of what had happened.
Sculptures and reliefs, mostly of Seekers in flight, also dotted the chamber. One was simply that of a head more than twenty feet in height. The subtle differences in each figure made her wonder if they represented specific folk in the avians’ history. She would probably never know. If the Tezerenee worked true to form, most of this would be replaced. The Seekers had likely acted the same centuries ago when they had taken this cavern over from the previous tenants.
So many other things drew the eyes, but what demanded the most attention in the end were the rows of towering effigies made to resemble creatures both true and fanciful. It was possible, Sharissa thought, that they even represented some of the races that had preceded the Seekers. Like a swarm of ants, the Tezerenee began to spread out as they approached the huge figures. Reegan and Sharissa followed the patriarch. Lochivan was one of the few who seemed little interested in what he saw. He seemed satisfied to stand back while the others wandered over to the massive, lifelike statues. Sharissa, noticing his reluctance, saw him touch the box. Darkhorse, still pacing Barakas, suddenly froze in mid-step. She was certain that the ebony stallion was still conscious, but the spells of the patriarch prevented her from discovering whether or not that was true. The young Zeree lost her interest in the marvels around her and tried to go to him. Reegan, seeing the object of her change of heart, refused to release his grip, however.
“Nothing’ll happen to the demon,” he muttered, trying not to disturb his father, who was lost in study of the statues. “Lochivan will just keep him out of the way.”
There was a crash from behind them. Sharissa, the patriarch, and the rest whirled around, fully expecting that a trap had been sprung at last. Instead, a fearful warrior stood beside a platform that he had bumped into. A crystal and parts of the platform itself had shattered. The fragments glowed briefly with escaping power.
Barakas stared the man down, then turned to the rest of those in the cavern. “The next man who breaks something will find himself in as many pieces! Explore, but do so with care!”
He turned his attention back to the statues. Some of them were damaged, and a few had been tipped in what had nearly been a domino effect. Barakas touched one of those standing, a figure that was tall, gaunt, and resembled one of the walking dead.
“Gods!” he shouted, pulling his hand free almost the instant after he had touched the effigy.
“What is it, Father?” Reegan asked, not so much concerned as fascinated by his father’s surprise.
“It… there’s… forget it! No one touches these until I say so! Do you all understand me?” His eyes focused on Sharissa. “Not until more is known about them.”
“We should be away from this place,” Faunon suggested, both unnerved and frustrated at being here.
“Nonsense.” Almost in defiance of the elf’s words, Barakas pointed to a series of tunnels to the left of the cavern entrance. “I want those traced for a good thousand paces. If they go further, mark your place and return here. The same with those behind this,”-the patriarch surveyed what stood behind the effigies. It was a ruined set of steps that rose for some distance and ended nowhere in particular-“this dais. Yessss, a throne must have stood here once.”
Soldiers rushed to obey, their places instantly filled by newcomers. Barakas removed his helm and watched them for a moment. The dragonlord then smiled at Faunon as if he had proved to the elf that there was nothing to fear, that he, the patriarch, had the situation under his complete control.
The Tezerenee were everywhere now, each warrior trying his or her best to please their lord and master. They skirted around artifacts and broken relics as they scoured the tall cavern chamber for anything of interest. Now and then, one of them would find something of sufficient importance that the patriarch would deign to investigate himself. Several times he vanished from sight, even daring short excursions into various subchambers.
Like a plague of thieves! Sharissa gritted her teeth. How much would be lost despite Barakas’s warning to be careful? This was a search that should have required months of careful work, not a few hours of haphazard running around.
While the Tezerenee searched, the three captives waited. Darkhorse was still frozen in place, and Lochivan, who still made no move to aid in the search, appeared to be disinclined to release him. Two guards watched over the anxious elf. Faunon flinched every time a warrior touched something or passed within arm’s length of the massive statues. As for Sharissa… she was forced to endure Reegan’s nearness and the fact that she was not being allowed to even participate, despite Barakas’s offer back in the citadel.
The latter problem became less significant as Reegan held her closer. With no one paying attention, the heir apparent was growing more and more familiar with her. He leaned near and whispered, “This will be the throne room of my kingdom, Sharissa. Did you know that?”
Rather than turn her face to his-and risk his suddenly desiring a kiss or some such foolishness-she stared at the statues. They were so very lifelike, Sharissa almost thought they breathed…
“The elf gave us a rough idea of what this continent is like. One of his fellows had a map, although we didn’t tell your friend that until we could see if he was lying-which he wasn’t, lucky for him. Father’s got the land divided between my brothers and me. Thirteen kingdoms now that Rendel’s dead and Gerrod’s as good as the same. We lost Zorain in the fight yesterday, or else there’d be fourteen.”
She had no idea who Zorain was save that he had obviously been yet another offspring of the patriarch. More to keep him babbling about something other than their would-be relationship than because she was interested, the sorceress asked, “What about your sisters and your cousins?”
He shrugged. “There’ll be dukedoms and such, not that it matters. Father has it all worked out.”
Were the eyes of the catman figure she now stared at staring back at her? Impossible… wasn’t it? “Where does he plan to rule? What kingdom will your father rule?”
His stiffening body made her glance at him despite her resolve. “He never says.”
The statues called her eyes to them once more. They had an almost hypnotic way about them, one that demanded her attention. “That doesn’t sound like the Lord Barakas Tezerenee.”
Reegan said nothing more, but another short glance showed his brow furrowed in thought. He was also scratching at his throat where the dry skin caused by the rash had spread all over his neck and probably down his chest. His unsightly appearance only made the effigies that much more inviting to gaze at.
“Lochivan! Reegan!” The patriarch’s voice echoed again and again throughout the cavern passages. Small, hideous creatures, disturbed by the loud noise, fluttered from their darkened places, realized they were in light of some sort, and scurried back to the sanctuary of the cool shadows.
“You’ll have to come with me,” the bearlike Tezerenee needlessly informed his prize. Sharissa did not argue; it would have been useless and, besides, standing around only frustrated her more. At least now she might learn something of value to her own goals.
The two of them passed close to Darkhorse. Though his cold blue eyes had no pupils, Sharissa knew that he watched her. Thinking of his predicament, she looked over to where Lochivan still stood, apparently trying to decide what to do about the eternal. In the end, he left the hapless creature the way he was, something that infuriated the sorceress further. It seemed that Darkhorse was to spend the rest of his existence trapped in one infernal torture or another and only because the Tezerenee found it useful.
Before this day was over, she would have another talk with Barakas. If it meant sacrificing some of her own liberty-small as that was-then so be it.
Lochivan joined the two, his eyes never veering from the path before him. He walked as if he wanted little to do with his brother or the woman to whom he had hinted deep affection for. This close, Sharissa could hear his rasping breath again. His gait was off as well, though not in any one way she could fix upon. It was almost as if he had broken some bones and had them reset by someone with no knowledge of what they were doing.
She noted the present location of the box, for all the good it did her. Lochivan kept it away from her, one arm cradling it much the way an infant would have been-not that she could imagine any of the Tezerenee holding a child.
“Where are you, Father?” Reegan called. The voice had come from somewhere behind the crumbling dais, but the back wall seemed pockmarked with passages, any one of which might be the tunnel the patriarch had chosen.
A warrior stumbled out of a passage and, realizing who stood before her, quickly saluted. “You were seeking the clan master?”
“Yes, is he in there?”
