needed in order to preserve himself.
If you would have these things I offer you, then follow my path downward.
“Path?” he asked, though it was a certainty that his newfound companion hardly needed to hear him to know his mind.
My path… the invisible being said.
A cavern passage that Gerrod could not recall seeing earlier stood before him-no more than fifty feet from him, in fact. The tunnel was illuminated, but not by gemstones in the wall or ceiling, as the Quel had designed them, but from a narrow path in the very center of the passage floor. The warlock peered down the cavern tunnel and saw that it continued on out of sight… but not before the passage itself sank downward.
“What about Sharissa? What about the one I came for?”
All will be yours… if you follow my path…
Was there a hint of childlike eagerness in the voice’s tone? Gerrod found he did not care. The offer was too inviting, too perfect in its timing, for him to resist very much. He stepped toward the tunnel.
Extinguish the light.
“The light?” He glanced at the blue flame floating before him. “My light?” Your light… yesss… only then… yesss, that is the way of things… only then can you follow my path.
It seemed such a small, insignificant thing to ask that Gerrod merely shrugged acquiescence and closed his hand into a fist. The blue light winked away.
Now… follow.
He did, not noticing the time as he moved deeper and deeper into the depths of the cavern system. The path was always there before him, glowing with willingness to guide him. Sharissa always remained in his mind, but as something he more and more came to believe he could only achieve with the aid of that which awaited him at the end of his journey. That the notion grew the more he listened to the smooth words of the voice did not occur to him.
Time at last seemed to pull at him, slow him down. Gerrod had lost track of how many turns he had made and whether they had been to the left or the right. That he was ever descending was the only certainty he knew.
A little more… just a little more.
He came at last to the mouth of a cavern. The glimmering path faded to nothing just beyond. From where Gerrod paused, no more than five paces from that maw, he could see nothing but darkness. Pure darkness, as if light had no place being here.
You came across such darkness before, the voice, so very confident now, reminded him. Beyond that darkness was the light of the chamber that brought your release from your captors. You recall that, don’t you?
The parallels between this cavern and the crystal one were not lost upon Gerrod. Steeling himself, he walked the last few steps and passed through into the cavern.
It was still as black as Darkhorse’s body-and almost as unnerving.
“Where are you?”
Here.
Ahead of him, the warlock caught a glimmer of something moving, something that glowed in flashes, as if not all there. It had a vague shape, somewhat animalistic in nature, but which animal Gerrod found it impossible to say. More than one, perhaps.
“Who… what are you?”
I am… your guidance.
Not quite the answer that the Tezerenee was looking for, but he certainly could not argue with his peculiar benefactor, especially whenever the comforting tones of the creature washed away his uncertainties.
As they were now. Your kin will not find you here. Their senses will not reach. You are safe.
“Shar-”
She is well. They are confused. I have played a game with them. Your friend has been very useful in that, for the ideas come from her memories.
Again, there was shifting in the darkness. Two burning coals that might have been eyes flared at the cloaked and hooded human, then vanished again.
“This would be the time to strike, to-”
Soon. Things have not yet been played to their completion. Very soon, now, however.
Gerrod hoped so. As much as he appreciated the assistance of this fantastic being, something kept nagging at him, pushing him toward flight. Why? Here, he was safe from his father.
Yesss… safe here from everyone.
The warlock shifted. He disliked having his thoughts so easily taken. It reminded him too much of the Quel.
No! roared the voice. Let your mind stay open! Do not shield it! The sheer force that struck the Vraad nearly toppled him. He stumbled back, wrapping his protective cloak tighter around his body.
Possibly realizing that it had overstepped itself, the creature in the dark returned to the smoother, calming tones with which Gerrod was more comfortable. It is essential for your protection that you do not block me from your thoughts. I will not be able to aid you should you be assaulted unless I can be with you at all times. You understand that, don’t you?
It should not have made that much sense, but, for some reason, it did. Nodding, the warlock relaxed a bit. He was still concerned over many things, however.
“What will we do? How do you plan to rescue Sharissa?”
When the time comes, she herself will aid us. There will be confusion and fear among the armored ones. Trust that they will have too many other things to consider to keep their full attention on your female.
Sharissa Zeree was not his woman, but he could not bring himself to argue the fact, not when there were so many more immediate considerations with which to deal. “The Tezerenee are not weak; their combined might allowed them to cross a vast sea by magic alone. The dragon totem might be only a symbol, but it very well represents my father. He is the dragon, in many respects.”
His words only brought low, mocking laughter from the darksome dweller. Once more, there was a flash of burning eyes and the barely visible outline of some great beast. Each time, the being looked different, as if it experimented with its appearance, seeking the most fearful and imposing.
He is the dragon, as you say… and more so than either you or he or any of his people think! The laughter rose briefly again. Much more so!
Standing alone in the pitch-black chamber, his spectral companion still chuckling, a spark of reason pushed Gerrod to wondering if perhaps he had been better off with the Quel after all.
XVII
“Watch her!” Barakas roared to Reegan, his temper, for the moment, completely out of control. The patriarch turned on his own people. “Why do you stand around? Find the elf! Tezerenee blood is on his hands!” Nothing was mentioned concerning the elven blood on the clan’s hands, which might have given Faunon a good reason for anything he did to the dragon men.
“Do you want him alive?” Lochivan, his head turned away from his father, asked in his peculiar voice. To Sharissa, it seemed he was finding great interest in the stalactites or anything else other than the Lord Tezerenee.
The patriarch, too, did not even look at his son. The two of them might have been talking to other people. “Not necessarily.”
Sharissa leaned forward, her anger held back only by Reegan’s strong hands and the ever-present box that Lochivan presently carried. “Barakas! Don’t do-”
“Take this.” Lord Barakas pulled out a small object from a belt pouch. It looked like a small crystal to the struggling sorceress, but one that had been constructed, not formed by natural means. “Use it if you trap him in a chamber with no exit other than where you stand. Make certain that there is nothing of value in there first.”
