tale later, and the truth had best be spoken!” The patriarch kicked at the rubble as he strode toward Sharissa and Gerrod, both of whom rose at his coming. “First, we will hear your story!”
Sharissa willingly related it. Gerrod and even Faunon also contributed, recalling as much as they could. All three were in unspoken agreement that if the Dragon of the Depths had dropped them here, it was to their interest to convince their captors of the urgency of their plight.
The Lord Tezerenee listened in silence, his only reaction to glance on occasion from one of his prisoners to another. The time difference interested him enough to provoke a question or two, but the rest was heard unhindered.
When Sharissa concluded with the second guardian’s decision to send the three here, Lochivan spoke up despite the threat of punishment from his father. “Their tale tells most of it… but I thought the scourge was the land’s doing, not this outcast abomination.”
“I am still not certain on that,” the patriarch said. “But that is neither here nor there.”
“We’ve told you the truth about everything, Father!” Gerrod insisted.
To the surprise of all, Lord Barakas smiled. “And I am certain that you have! If so, then the danger is past! You said yourself that the renegade fled from the Dragon of the Depths! He has saved us again!”
Sharissa grimaced. This was not going the way it should. “Have you forgotten what the Dragon of the Depths said? There is no guarantee that this is over or that something worse is not yet to come!”
He indicated the corpse. “The first of those appeared the day you vanished; the last, three days later. There have been none since, and I would say there will be none again!” Looking down at the remains of what had once been one of his subjects, the patriarch added, “Someone drag that away and bury it. Let him and the others be remembered with honor, victims of a foe now fled!”
“Typical!”
“What was that, Gerrod?”
“Nothing, Father! Only that you’ve not changed! I prayed that, at least for mother’s sake, you might have!”
“Alcia!” All triumph faded from the clan master’s rough-hewn visage. “The citadel!”
“Citadel?” Gerrod looked at Sharissa for clarification.
“Your father forced Darkhorse to help him build a glorious citadel to the south of here.” She pointed at the box that Lochivan carried. The bitterness could not be held back. “That is Darkhorse’s reward for his efforts, his prison!”
“My mother and the others are not here?”
“Alcia.” Barakas raised his hands above his head. “I sent a message announcing our imminent entrance into the caverns, but… nothing since then! They won’t have known! I must go to her and see!”
He stood there for several seconds, his eyes closed. The room was filled with a sense of expectation. Sharissa was the first to wonder why the patriarch still stood where he was when it was obvious he had intended to teleport to his lady.
That thought had also occurred to Barakas, for he lowered his hands and stared at her in wonder. “The power! I had it! Now… there is still some, but I cannot summon sufficient for the task!”
“You won’t find that power at your beck and call anymore!” It was Faunon who spoke, to the surprise of Sharissa. At a nod from Barakas, the guards released their hold. He purposely joined Sharissa and put an arm around her waist. She was a bit shocked at first, but found almost immediately afterward that she wanted him there.
“We are the only spellcasters here now, and our strength is not sufficient at this time to be of any aid.”
“Step away from her!” Reegan bellowed. He drew his sword and started toward the couple.
“Reegan!” The voice born to command froze the heir in place. Barakas then added, “Continue, elf! What great revelation have you to make?”
“Sharissa probably knows,” Faunon said, “but I spoke up without thinking, so it’s my duty to tell you.”
“Then be on with it, before I decide to let my eldest further denigrate himself!”
“Father-”
“Silence!”
Sharissa caught the barest hint of a smile on the elf’s lips before he spoke. “The tales of our ancestors speak enough about the way of Vraad sorcery for me to recognize it. The sorcerous stench is enough to make me wish I had no ability to sense its presence. She also spoke of it during our time together-how it had suddenly returned to you.”
“My link!” Gerrod looked at Faunon with a mixture of surprise and respect.
“When one makes a hole, things tend to leak out.”
“The Dragon of the Depths resealed the barrier, made it stronger,” Sharissa finished. “You’re back to the way it was before.”
Crystalline eyes narrowed. “You will take me there! One or both of you!”
Faunon snorted. “Even if I desired to, Vraad, neither of us has the strength, not after what we’ve been through. I am not even certain if it is safe to do so. My folk have lived here for far longer than you, and we have stories-”
“More blasted tales!”
“We have stories,” he continued, relishing his role even though Sharissa could see that he understood the risks of pushing the patriarch too far, “about the times when the land is woken… as it has been by the renegade guardian.”
“And what do thossse ssstoriesss sssay?” Lochivan asked. He had the box in both hands now, as if he intended to present it to Sharissa. Had Darkhorse known the Tezerenee was manipulating him? Had the eternal nearly sacrificed himself in order that Sharissa might be free? She hoped there would come time for the answers. She hoped there would come time for Darkhorse.
“That those who bring notice to themselves in such turbulent times may find they will soon not know themselves. That is what they say.”
“Reegan,” Barakas began, a fierce anger spreading across his features. “If the elf will not speak plainly on his next attempt, you have my permission to put him to the sword.”
“Faunon,” Sharissa warned.
He took her hand with his free one. “You remember what the second guardian said, that we could control the change. It’s been so in the past. When the land is awake, there is wild sorcery. Those who make too much use of their power become more malleable, more sensitive to… change.”
Barakas studied the ancient cavern. In a quieter voice he said, “I had decided to make this the citadel from where I would coordinate the rule of this land, a fitting choice since it would have been within the domain of my heir.” Sharissa was interested to see that Reegan did not seem too pleased with that decision. He had hoped for a kingdom of his own, not one in which he would have little more status than before. The patriarch did not seem to care. “It seems it will have to wait a while, but it will be mine! Reegan! Attend me!”
Erasing the bitter cast, the heir apparent came to his father’s side. “Sire?”
“You will remain here and continue efforts to ready this place. Be alert.”
“Yes, Father.”
“I also want the swiftest drakes readied for travel. Two dozen-no, one dozen! No more than necessary!” The patriarch turned to the trio. “You three will accompany me!” He waved off all protests, including one from Reegan, who hardly cared for the thought of Sharissa being taken away from him. Focusing on the sorceress, Barakas continued, “If I thought I could trust you, I would have those bands removed. As it is, they will remain around your throats. Do not think to remove them without my permission; you will find that they can bite!”
Sharissa started to speak, to say that this was something they all had to be concerned about, but she knew that the clan master would never believe she would ride willingly with him.
Lord Barakas Tezerenee looked around at his people. “Well? What are you standing around here for? There is much to do!”
The dragon warriors scattered, save for those few whose task it was to either protect their master or await further commands that might arise. Reegan remained, although Lochivan and the box, much to Sharissa’s distress, had vanished. The hurried expedition to the Tezerenee citadel would only take her farther from the eternal.
“We will leave within the hour,” the lord of the Tezerenee announced to his prisoners, “and ride until the
