“You. For all that you have disappointed me, I am pleased to see you. I suspect, however, that you have not come here because you seek admittance into the clan again.”
Gerrod shook his head. Some of the Tezerenee present stirred at that. Sharissa, scanning the cavern, thought that there were less of them than she recalled from last time. Many of them were wounded, too. What had happened since her untimely departure?
“Reegan.” At Lord Barakas’s summons, the heir separated from the others and hurried up the steps. The patriarch gave him a hand. Reegan took hold and aided his father in rising. “Nonetheless, I am still pleased to see you, if only because I might require your intuitive skills.”
“What happened here, Father? Is everyone… is everyone the same?”
“An interesting way to put it. I might find it even more interesting to find out where you have been that you would ask such a thing.” With Reegan’s aid, he traversed the steps, stopping when he was at the bottom. “For now, however, I think it would be best if I told you what has happened. We’ve been busy of late.”
As the patriarch began, Sharissa looked around for Lochivan. There was no sign of him, and she wondered whether it was his blood that stained the Lord Tezerenee. Also missing was the infernal box prison. “Where’s-”
Barakas snapped his fingers. Guards belatedly surrounded the trio. Gaunt-leted hands stumbled to attach small collars to the necks of each. There was a bit of a struggle as Gerrod fought to keep his hood on. When it was at last down, he looked at the others as if expecting horror. Sharissa realized he did not know what the Dragon of the Depths had done for him. Knowing that despite his status he was still one of their lord’s offspring, the guards replaced the hood when they were finished.
The patriarch shook his head at the warrior’s obvious inefficiency. “Things are falling apart… and if you speak before I allow it, I will have them silence you. You don’t want that, Lady Sharissa. None of us is in a very pleasant mood.” To his clan in general, he commanded, “Bring forth one of the changelings!”
There was some scurrying, and a pause in which Barakas took time to steady himself. He became aware of Sharissa’s questing eyes and quietly said, “All in good time, my lady. All in good time.”
At that moment, the ranks of disheveled warriors gave way to four others carrying a bundle the size of a body. Gerrod took a step forward, but the patriarch shook his head. The newcomers waited, fascinated to be sure, but also prepared for the worst.
They were not disappointed. Sharissa had been waiting for this and was not surprised at what rolled out of the blanket that the Tezerenee lowered to the floor before them. Faunon nodded his head; he had also expected this. Only Gerrod was truly taken aback.
“What sort of abomination is that?”
“It was a cousin of yours once,” the clan master informed him. “There were seven others besides this one. It took us all this time to hunt them down, and more than twice as many warriors to kill them.”
The corpse was of a creature resembling the unfortunate Ivor as he had been those few moments Sharissa had confronted him, only this one was even more reptilian than that hapless soul. The shape was not even quite humanoid anymore, but almost truly like that of a drake.
“It looks like a Draka,” Faunon commented.
“Draka?” Reegan asked.
“They have many names, many of which sound similar. Some think they ruled here long before the avians and the Quel. They serve-served-the bird folk. Of late, they’ve grown far more savage than they should be.”
“I’ve seen them. Unimportant.” Pulling himself free, the patriarch limped over to the disconcerting body. “This was one of my people, not some monster! I want to know what happened and who was responsible!” He gave the elf a long, appraising look. “Perhaps I should have had Lochivan question you more thoroughly.”
Sharissa could not hold back. “Where is Lochivan now?”
“He is ill… and it is he who watches the demon’s prison.” That was all he would say on the subject, although she was certain there was more he was not telling.
Gerrod pulled free of his guards and, despite his father’s warning, moved closer to examine his former cousin. He touched the leathery skin and removed some of the tattered bits of armor that still hung to the corpse. From what Sharissa could see from her vantage point, the shapeshifting Tezerenee had torn part of his armor off and literally burst through the rest. How much pain had that entailed? How much pain did the transformation itself entail?
The guards moved to bring the warlock under control, but Lord Barakas suddenly waved them back. To his estranged son, he said, “I will want to know how you come to be on this continent later, but for now I would appreciate whatever you can read from this… this horror.”
He received no response, but that was Gerrod’s way. The hooded Tezerenee probed for a moment or two longer and then looked up in the direction of, but not exactly at, his progenitor. “I’d like Sharissa to see this.”
Reegan whispered something to his father, but Barakas shook his head. He looked at the waiting Zeree. “Go to him, but be careful about what you say or do. There will be no second escape. Especially for your elf.”
In response to an unspoken command, one of Faunon’s guards put a knife to the elf’s throat. Sharissa gritted her teeth in order to keep from saying something that her captor would hardly appreciate. Escape was hardly one of her concerns at this time; she lacked the strength for anything so strenuous as that.
Joining Gerrod, she inspected the corpse. As she expected, he wanted to do the talking.
“This is what I’ve feared all these years-this and the fact that we are aging far more quickly than we were prone to back in Nimth.”
“What are you mumbling?” Reegan asked, suspicious of anyone, it seemed, who was on better terms with Sharissa than he was. That included a vast number of people, as far as she was concerned.
Gerrod stared at his elder sibling with disdain. “I was wondering when the first of these appeared.”
“There was one during the journey here,” Sharissa offered. That first one had likely been one of the more magically sensitive Tezerenee. Or perhaps he had been a test for the outcast guardian, a way of assuring that what it sought to do was possible without killing the victim.
“There wasss another,” announced a hissing voice. From one of the passages, an armored figure that could only be Lochivan stumbled forward. Despite the patriarch’s claim that his son was ill, Lochivan wore full armor, even a full helm. He also carried the box, which was evidently making it difficult for him to maintain his balance, but he refused the aid of two warriors who came to his side.
“You are not supposed to be here,” Barakas told him. Nonetheless, he was visibly proud of the fact that Lochivan would not give in to whatever was affecting him. “You should be resting.”
“In thissss place? I heard the voicessss and came to sssee. Gerrod’s question, however, desservess asss complete an answer as possible if we are to deal with thisss matter.”
“When was the first one?” Gerrod acted as if he had never left the clan.
“During the first expedition. He killed another man before we could ssstop him. That wasss why I wasss ready for Ivor. I recognized the sssigns.”
Barakas looked a bit troubled. “You told me they died when one of the drakes went wild.”
Lochivan laughed, harsh and almost inhuman in his manner. He was now at the edge of the circle of nervous bodies surrounding the prisoners, the patriarch, and the poor, twisted form on the floor. “I thought the sssituation under control, even with Ivor’sss appearance. I thought I had made a pact that would sssave usss!”
“What are you talking about? You must be feverish!”
“He’s not.” Sharissa understood. Lochivan had known what was going to happen to her. That was what he had meant that one evening. He had made a pact that included her safety… so he supposed. In a sense he had been correct. Unfortunately, Lochivan had also been dealing with a being that chose to interpret the pact in whatever way suited it.
The patriarch turned on her. “What’s that you say?”
“Tell him, Sharissa!” Gerrod urged. “Tell him, or by the claws of the drake I’ll do so!”
She nodded. It would be best for them if the Tezerenee knew. It might even make them abandon this place as the Seekers had chosen to do. “We’ve met the one you made the pact with, Lochivan.” She paused to let that sink in. “I think what you’ve seen is its way of fulfilling that pact.”
“Impossible! I worked for the ssssurvival of the clan! These horrorsss are not what I desssired!”
“Ivor and the others were how the guardian thought your clan would best survive this land.”
“Stop right there!” Barakas roared. He pointed an accusing finger at the unsteady figure. “You will tell your
