drakes can run no more. We will sleep until they are sufficiently rested and then ride until exhaustion takes them again.”
“And what of us?” Gerrod asked. “We are already worn out… as you must be.”
“We are Tezerenee, Gerrod. The name Tezerenee is power, in case you have forgotten. We will endure what we must for the sake of the others! These two”-he indicated Sharissa and Faunon-“will just have to struggle along.”
The warlock snorted, muttering something about speeches and beliefs, but his father had already turned away.
Although they were not given much opportunity for rest, the patriarch was true to his word when he had said that they would be leaving within the hour, the three did receive some food. Their lost days had wreaked havoc with their inner clocks, though, so the meal was first eaten in hesitation. Only when food began to warm her did Sharissa feel the pangs of hunger. From then on, she ate in eagerness, noting that her companions did the same.
Sentries watched them to make certain no one fiddled with the collars. Barakas had warned them of the danger of doing so, but evidently knew that here were three who could most definitely be trusted to try escape at some point. They would need their full abilities to do so.
They sat where they had been standing earlier, no one apparently having thought seats a necessity in this place. Only the patriarch’s throne-where they had gotten that monstrosity, she could not guess-resembled anything designed for sitting, and that looked much too uncomfortable for most people. It was the type of throne she would expect from Barakas, a thing that required patience and stubbornness to endure.
For the brief time remaining, the sorceress concentrated on the stone leviathans mere yards away. Even with her powers muted again, something that seemed to be a habit of late, she could sense the life stirring within them. Why no one else did was beyond her. Faunon did look up now and then as he ate, almost as if he noticed something from time to time but could not place it. Was she that much more in tune with this world than they were? Sharissa had accepted her new home without question, marveling in the natural beauty that she, too young, had never known in Nimth. Perhaps that was one reason that she had learned to manipulate the binding forces of the world as none of the others had yet.
That did not explain why the powers within the effigies were growing greater in intensity with each passing minute.
What would happen when the land truly awoke? Was this the first sign?
Her thoughts died as Barakas returned to the central chamber. He still limped, but concern for his bride and his fledgling empire was making him ignore all but the worst pain. Reegan trailed behind him, looking like a hatchling drake that had been reprimanded by its mother. No doubt he had been trying, without success, to convince his father to either leave her here or let him journey with them.
The patriarch nodded to her. “You have been properly fed, Lady Sharissa?”
He seemed to use a title only when he wanted something, she realized. Steadying herself, she replied, “Fair enough for now. We could still use some rest.”
“When you are with us long enough you will learn to sleep while your steed keeps going.”
“I hope not to be with you long enough for that.”
Barakas gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Honesty. It is a commendable trait, albeit a useless one right now.”
“Father-”
“Silence, Reegan. You have duties, if I recall. Perform them as is fit for the future clan master… the future emperor.”
The hulking Tezerenee glanced longingly at Sharissa, who made a point of not looking his way. Dejected, Reegan saluted his father and departed.
For one of the few times in her recent memory, the patriarch removed his helm. Sharissa was shocked to see that the gray in his hair was spreading. There were grooves in his face that only time and weariness could have carved. It reminded her somewhat of Gerrod’s visage after his near catastrophe with Vraad sorcery down in the mad guardian’s cavern.
Lord Barakas Tezerenee was not getting old; he was old.
“He will be emperor before long,” the patriarch assured them. He met his estranged son’s gaze and saw the emotion in there. “Yes, I am growing old at last. The dragonlord is nearing his end. Probably a few more decades and nothing else.”
“At least you have lived all those millennia,” the warlock returned. He indicated his own face. “There will be lines on this face soon enough. This world likes to kill those who will not bow to it.”
The armored monarch cocked his head to one side as he studied Gerrod. Then, smiling a mocking smile, he shook his head and turned his attention back to Sharissa. “I have something I want of you.”
“I’m hardly surprised.”
“Hear me out. If you aid me, I will no longer pressure for a marriage between you and my eldest. You and the elf can go off wherever you please.”
“Everyone always wants to throw us together,” Faunon commented. Food, even this food, had done much to restore his humor, even if he and the others were still prisoners.
He was ignored by the clan elder. “Well?”
“You haven’t told me what you want of me.”
Gerrod leaned forward before his father could speak and warned, “Be careful of any promise made! Even oaths can be broken!”
“There will be no breaking of oaths!” Barakas seemed ready to kick his son back in place, but possibly knew how it would make him look to the sorceress. “This concerns your family, especially your mother and siblings!”
The warlock tried to pretend he did not care, but Sharissa already knew that, despite his abandoning the ways of his father, Gerrod had no desire to see his former folk come to harm.
“What is it you want?” she asked, in part trying to turn the patriarch’s focus away from his son. Each time it turned there, the chamber grew noticeably colder.
He scratched his throat, but, unlike so many of the other Tezerenee, Barakas no longer suffered from the rash. “I want your cooperation-and theirs-for the time needed to ascertain what may or may not have befallen those at the citadel-and especially the Lady Alcia.”
It was a bit of a rambling answer, but the thrust of it moved her as she thought not possible. Barakas might be her adversary, but his concern for his bride outweighed even his drive for power.
“I will swear by the spirit of the drake that you will gain your releases when I am satisfied that we face no threat. Well?”
“All of us?”
“All of you.”
She studied him for several seconds, organizing her thoughts. There was one more thing Sharissa wanted of him, and now was the only moment she had a chance of getting it. If she let this pass… “Darkhorse must be included.”
His altering expression almost made her regret her demand, but she could not leave the shadow steed under his control.
“You want the demon?” He struggled to regain composure and succeeded-in part. “Take him! Even with our sorcery reduced, we will prevail!”
“Then you have my cooperation.” Her words were said in a simple and straightforward fashion.
Her quiet response made him halt his tirade. Barakas took a deep breath before saying, “My gratitude, Lady Sharissa. You will find I will keep my word in this, despite my sons and their opinions otherwise.”
Meaning Gerrod and Reegan, she thought.
“Now that it is settled,” the patriarch continued, “I may tell you that the drakes are ready for us. Guards!”
In quick order, they were brought to their feet and marched through the cavern until they came to the entrance that Sharissa and the Tezerenee had entered by almost a week ago. To her surprise, the patriarch bypassed several powerful flying drakes and started down the side of the mountain to where the wingless riding drakes awaited.
