Bowing his head, Lochivan took the sinister artifact. Barakas retrieved the box at the same time, securing it in one arm. He looked thoughtfully at the still form of Darkhorse, who met the gaze of the patriarch with his own baleful eyes. Sharissa still could not see how anyone, even the patriarch, could meet those ice-blue orbs and not turn away.
“And do you want me to deal with yet another irritation to you, dragon-lord?” Darkhorse dared to bellow. “It appears I must do all the work here! Of what use, then, are all these toy soldiers of yours?”
The barb struck as true as if a mortal blow from a sword. Barakas jerked back and quickly glared away any rebellious thoughts by his people. He was perspiring, something that Sharissa had rarely noticed him doing. Each time an event went awry, a little part of him seemed to vanish. The gray that she had noticed in his hair seemed to be spreading, too, now that she took a closer look.
The others are suffering from some rash, but he suffers from aging! the Vraad sorceress marveled. He fears he’s losing control!
Many of the Tezerenee had already departed, and the patriarch’s last look had sent most of the rest running. Lochivan had been one of the quickest to depart. Only a handful of warriors, Reegan included, remained.
“You must be taught respect again, I see,” the clan master whispered, his voice cold. He reached for the box.
Darkhorse shivered at first, then his eyes narrowed as he steeled himself for the patriarch’s worst. “The one who truly needs to learn respect is you, lord drake!”
“You’ve not tasted all that this can do, demon. I think the time has come to truly reprimand you!”
“No, you won’t!” Sharissa focused on the patriarch and willed her power to the forefront.
The skin and armor of Lord Barakas crackled and wrinkled, but only a moment. He looked down at what she was doing to his form and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, the devastation to his body dwindled. The cracked skin healed itself and the armor resealed. His eyes were death as he looked up at her.
“Dragon’s oath, Sharissa!” Reegan muttered in her ear. He attached something cold and numbing to her throat. Sharissa felt as if a part of her had been torn away and knew that she had wasted her one chance to utilize her abilities. The Tezerenee had again nullified her. “You shouldn’t have done that, not at all! He let you wander loose only because he had other spells handy to keep you under control! Didn’t you ever wonder?”
She had not, and that might be proving fatal now.
“After I have punished this errant monstrosity, Lady Sharissa, I fear I will have to teach you your manners, also! I will regret that, but it will be necessary.”
He touched the box and turned expectantly to Darkhorse.
The shadow steed quivered, awaiting the pain. When he realized that nothing had happened, that he was apparently free of the box, he laughed loud. “Ohh, I have waited for this, dragonlord!”
He leaped at the startled patriarch.
For all his speed, the eternal could not reach the patriarch in time. Sharissa, struggling anew with a distraught Reegan, watched as Darkhorse slowed more and more the nearer he tried to get to his adversary. Barakas continued to draw swift patterns over the box, trying to regain some sort of control. At that moment, the best either could do was a stalemate.
A voice that sounded like Lochivan’s shouted, “Reegan, you half-wit! Forget her and help Father!”
The heir apparent obeyed instantly, the Tezerenee code of serving the clan master-set down by Barakas himself, of course-enough impetus to sway him. He shoved Sharissa back toward a pair of guards standing near the ancient effigies and started forward. The sorceress doubted he even had any idea what he could do.
One of her new watchdogs reached out to take hold of her, but another armored figure caught her arm first. Both Sharissa and the warrior looked up into the helmed countenance of Lochivan.
“I’ll take the Lady Sharissa. Help get aid. We may need my brothers and sisters.”
The two guards obeyed without question, as they had been trained to do, but the young woman eyed her companion with growing suspicion. Lochivan was moving without the pain of a few minutes before and his voice was smooth, much the way it had always been before recent events. It was almost like standing next to a ghost image from the past.
“This way,” he urged.
“What are you-”
“Do not argue.”
They were walking into the midst of the towering statues, Lochivan looking as if he wanted no one to follow them. Sharissa wanted to ask where they were going, but then she lost all interest in that as something new demanded her attention.
The statues were pulsating. Not randomly, but like a massive heartbeat. The sorceress glanced at the human and inhuman visages, fully expecting to see the mouths open and the eyes blink. They did nothing of the kind, yet she knew that life did indeed reside within those forms and that it had been stirred to action by someone.
“This will be good enough.” Lochivan came to a halt in a region that Sharissa saw was approximately the center of the area surrounded by the effigies. He seemed to be waiting anxiously for something to happen.
Something was happening, but not what he wanted. The magics of the two combatants were illuminating the cavern chamber like flashing lights at a festival. Darkhorse and Barakas were still trapped in their stalemate, both powers aglow. Tezerenee surrounded them, all afraid that anything they did might accidentally throw the balance against their lord. Reegan wandered at the outer edge of the circle that had formed out of tense, armored bodies, and Lochivan, standing opposite him, was-
Lochivan?
“It happens! Hold tight!” her companion warned her just as she looked up, realizing now that he was not the son of the patriarch but… but what?
Her question vanished as instantly as the cavern itself did. One moment they were standing in the center of a growing field of power, the next they were standing in darkness.
Doppelganger or not, she held tight to him. There was a coldness about the dark that she cared little for. It reminded her of a tomb or some other place where death was dominant. Even noting that her ability to utilize her powers had returned did not ease her mind.
Come to me, my children. Enter my court and be safe from those above.
They did, Sharissa almost without choice. Her body moved forward before she had even come to a decision. The false Lochivan was beside her, matching her pace. She could not see him clearly enough, but the sorceress was certain he was almost as confused and frightened as she was, a peculiar thing since it was he who had brought her to this place.
There is no need to fear. I will protect you. I have given my oath on that.
She could, of course, question the fact that she did not know how trustworthy their unseen protector was; if Sharissa was correct in her assumptions, then this was the evil that Faunon had spoken about so often in the past.
Evil is… evil is sometimes power misunderstood. Yesss, that is the way of it.
It was reading her mind too well. Sharissa strengthened her mental shields.
It chuckled. Allow me to relieve your fears. Elf, your lady is here.
“Sharissa?” Faunon’s voice cut through the darkness. A dim glow, reddish in color, formed an aura around a figure moving toward her. When it was nearly within arm’s reach, she could see that it was Faunon. Sharissa almost leaped into his arms when she recalled that the Lochivan beside her was a copy. How did she know that this one was not?
Tell her who you are, elf. Prove to her that she is among friends.
From the expression on Faunon’s face-if it was Faunon-he did not completely share the unseen speaker’s opinion. Nonetheless, he tried to convince her. “Touch my hand, Vraad. Carefully if you like.”
Separating from the false Tezerenee, she reached out a tentative hand. Her fingertips grazed the top of his left hand. As she started to pull away, he grabbed hold of her wrist. His grip was gentle but firm. The sorceress felt a tingle run through her.
“Faunon!” She started to reach for him, then recalled her other companion. “But who is this, if not Lochivan? I know you! I could tell that much the way I could tell this was Faunon.”
“You do know me, Sharissa.” The armored figure also wore a dim, red aura, something she had not noticed before. Sharissa gazed down at her hands and saw no such thing surrounding her, yet it should have been
