sorcery would have been able to accomplish what he had. Still, better that he had found it rather than his father or one of his brethren… or just about any other Vraad other than the Zerees, for that matter.
“This is a cavern, yes, but show me where…” He smiled as the map returned, indicating that the place in question was… was far to the northeast! “Only two-thirds of a continent away! A good thing I didn’t end up in the sea with such accuracy as that!”
Mountains. A vast northerly chain of mountains. His brother, Rendel, had made some notes about these mountains, especially one in particular. Rendel, as secretive as any Vraad, had never written why the one mountain, Kivan Grath it had been named, was so important to him. Anyone who knew him, however, such as Gerrod or his father, understood that even the slight references indicated something of great import. That there were also mentions of Seekers and history in that same passage, albeit in seemingly unconnected paragraphs, was enough for the warlock.
“Your treasure trove,” he muttered. “The place you abandoned your clan for!” It had to be… but if Sharissa was there, then that meant that the Tezerenee were there also. That, of course, meant his father.
Now, more than ever, he had to find a way to reach Sharissa. The secrets of the founders were not something to be left to the imaginative if single-purposed mind of his progenitor.
Another, simple touch of the controls…
Where had that thought come from? His hands moving as if directed by another, Gerrod slowly reached for the master crystals. Was there a way to travel from one location to the other? Nothing in the chamber seemed affected by the devices of the Quel, but he had been afraid to attempt any sorcery of his own, for fear it would touch him more than he desired. He still distrusted utilizing the magic of either torn Nimth or this world, but using the crystal chamber’s power would not, the warlock believed, affect him since it did not require any part of him save simple thought.
There were other considerations that might have contradicted his suppositions, but desperation made him ignore them as he touched the first of the gemstones.
The familiar hooting of a Quel made him pull his hands back.
At the mouth of the chamber, the Quel leader, the only one willing to risk himself, stood staring at the sight before him. His animal features were partly covered by a metal helm that covered both ears completely and left only narrow slits for the eyes. A thick coil of rope was bound about the waist of the behemoth and stretched beyond the entranceway, enabling those without to pull their ruler to safety once he had his prize-Gerrod himself.
“Not yet,” he called, trying to act calm, even disgusted. If the Quel could be convinced to leave him be for a bit longer.
With great effort, the massive beastman turned and peered at him. Gerrod still did not know what it was that affected the Quel so, but the lead helm was the only way they could even tolerate the cavern for more than a few moments. Unfortunately for them, even the helm had only limited protection.
From what he had learned to read in the posture of his underground acquaintances, the Quel was in shock. What the newcomer saw was hardly what he had expected to see. There was no sending by the Quel ruler; he might have seemed literally dead on his feet if Gerrod had not been able to make out his breathing.
Act!
The thought was overwhelming, not that the frantic Tezerenee needed much urging. He was already thinking that the chamber itself was a certain sign of the progress he had made-progress that should have been immediately brought to the attention of his hosts. Turning back to the controlling crystals, Gerrod fumbled with them.
He heard the Quel stir behind him, hooting a warning that the Vraad paid no attention to. Gerrod fought desperately for domination of his hands; they strived to move in unfamiliar patterns, as if they, not he, knew what was best.
The Quel was not armed, which gave Gerrod a few more precious seconds, but the moment the huge, armadillolike beast was within arm’s reach, the warlock was dead and both of them were quite aware of that notion.
Hearing the heavy footfalls, the snarling Vraad relinquished his claim on his own hands and let them play across the pulsating gems.
The chamber grew blindingly brilliant again. Gerrod, prepared for either this or death from the neck-shattering blow caused by a Quel arm, closed his eyes.
A shrill, jagged shriek tore at his eardrums.
When the light faded and he still found himself among the living, the Vraad cautiously opened his eyes.
He was in a cavern, but not the crystalline one.
Stunned, he spun in a circle and scanned his surroundings with fish eyes. This was no image conveyed by a fantastic magical array of crystals; this was a very real and very familiar cavern. The one, in fact, where Sharissa awaited rescue.
Where is she, then? he asked himself, knowing better than to speak out or make any other sort of noise that would attract his former clan. And what do I do when I find her? Fight the combined talents of my father, brothers, sisters, cousins, and every gifted outsider they’ve dragged along?
It had, Gerrod discovered in horror, never truly occurred to him that he might actually arrive at this point. To be certain, he had assumed he would, but other than materializing, grabbing Sharissa Zeree from those who guarded her, and whisking the slim, beautiful sorceress away, the warlock had never given any consideration to a workable plan. Now, this close, he needed one desperately.
A dim light from a crack in the cavern ceiling kept him from standing in total darkness, but Gerrod decided to risk things further by supplying himself with illumination of his own. A spell of such insignificance, even though it was of Vraad sorcery in origin, could hardly affect him, could it?
He refused to consider the matter and flicked his fingers. A tiny blue flame burst into life in his palm. Despite its size, its light spread far enough to let him see more clearly what might lurk nearby. Gerrod took in his surroundings again, grateful that there appeared to be no horrific change. The cavern walls were still filled with shadows, but nothing capable of hiding some monstrous subterranean creature. The satisfied Vraad began walking around searching for a direction in which to travel.
What he found first was the Quel leader-what remained of him.
A rise had hidden him from view, but, now revealed, he was a ghastly reminder to Gerrod of what sorcery could do to those careless or accidentally caught at the fringe.
Even in the tiny blue light, the back of the Quel glittered, a tiny celestial map of twinkling stars. The shell was the only part of the earth dweller that had not been brutally ravaged by the ruler’s unexpected passage. Gerrod turned away briefly at the sight of the head, a spreading wreckage of metal and flesh. One of the Quel’s arms had been torn off and scattered somewhere out of sight. The legs were twisted over the shell as those of a rag doll might have been but not any way in which a creature with bones would have liked to experience.
Bits of rope still remained, causing the warlock to wonder what the other Quel might be thinking.
“I’d like to say I’m sorry about the sudden departure and its cost to you,” he muttered at the tattered corpse. “But the truth is that I’m not.” The pale Vraad contemplated the remains before him and added, “It could have been quicker and less disgusting, I suppose.”
Seeing the Quel had altered something within Gerrod. He had been reminded of his own mortality once too often in the past fifteen years. Not only did he face death from his present course of action, but every use of Vraad power tore at both him and the land within which he was forced to abide. Why exactly the Quel had suffered such a fate and he had not only added to his fears. How could he hope to save Sharissa when he did not even know how to save himself?
The hooded Tezerenee tried to convince himself it was only nervousness that played on his emotions, but the attempt to calm himself failed.
I can show you the way to safety… for yourself and those you care for… I can give you… life… forever…
“But-”
I brought you forth from the underworld of the Quel and guided your hands when the critical moment came. I urged you forward when you might have slipped back and failed. Yessss… I am your savior more than thrice over.
The voice in his mind, with its impelling, hypnotic tone, could not be denied this time. It was not a remnant from the legions of the whisperers, whose tale he still did not understand, nor was it his overtaxed imagination. No, this was someone who spoke to his innermost self, who sought to offer guidance that he only now realized he
