the stubborn spellcaster still tried to believe, there was a way to travel physically to this other place.
Perhaps now…
Dru and his daughter stared curiously at the patterns formed by the floating crystals. The primary crystals, larger and generally fixed in one place, were, as he had hoped, arranged in the pattern he had asked Sharissa to set them in. It was something that had to be done by hand and his requested appearance at the coming had made that impossible. Sharissa, while occasionally prone to dreaming, was as excellent a helper as he could have dared hope. Soon, she would be able to conduct her own series of experiments and-
And that would only happen if they found a solution before Nimth began to pull the Vraad down with it in its death struggles.
The secondary crystals, which had been organized to catch the natural emanations of any sighting and record them for his later need, floated in a complex spiral cluster near the focus, a foot-wide black sphere that kept surveillance on the nearby regions surrounding his own domain. Principal study of late had been on the very area where Dru had seen the rift.
Sightings, the sorcerer had noted early on, always occurred near unstable regions. Whether one resulted from the other-it was debatable which way that worked, too-he could not say. They just seemed to be related, like opposite ends of a magical beast.
His eyes took in the myriad pattern of colors and shapes in the spiral, noting what changes had resulted from this latest opportunity and wondering what they would reveal. The crystals were still absorbing information, so all he could do for the moment was wait.
An irregularity caught his eye.
There were three crystals, two golden and one turquoise, that should not have been part of the spiral.
“Sharissa,” he started quietly as he studied the possible ramifications of the error. “Did something happen to the spiral? Did the spell fail? Did you try re-creating it without my guidance?”
Knowing her father as she did, his daughter waited until he had exhausted all questions. When Dru grew silent, attention still focused on the crystals swirling about, she replied, “Nothing happened to the spiral, Father. I added those three on my own.”
He turned, unable to believe his ears. “You did that of your own volition?”
“It makes sense, Father. See how they play off the amethyst and emerald ones below them.”
“They cannot! To do that would mean-” Mouth still open, the gray-robed figure could only blink. The new additions were indeed playing off of the crystals Sharissa had mentioned and to far greater effect than he could have believed. But… “Impossible!”
“It works!”
“They should make the spiral unstable, cause it to explode!” Dru walked toward the spiral and dared to touch one of the golden gems. It pulsated in perfect harmony with the rest. “The combination has never held before!”
Sharissa held her ground. “I saw that it would work the moment I started adjusting the primaries. You’ve always taught me to use my initiative.”
“Not like this.” Still awed, Dru stepped back. They were functioning. Crystal work was very delicate, even for beings as powerful as the Vraad. Many of the sorcerous race could not even work that particular magic successfully. The ability to move mountains, while it tore asunder the natural laws of Nimth-what remained of them-was far and away more simple. That required only will and power. Crystal work required patience and finesse. Sharissa, to have seen what was needed, had developed a skill that would soon surpass her parent.
There was more to this, however, than met the physical eye. Dru turned his gaze to another plane of sight.
The world remained the same, but now he could see the jagged patterns that bound Nimth. Spirals, once neatly formed and organized, had reconnected in haphazard fashion, the world’s own natural attempt to make up for the damage the careless Vraad had done to it. Things were far beyond repair, however.
All seemed as it had been until Dru looked closer. Then he began to notice the intruding lines, forces that came from nowhere, but bound themselves to the fabric of Nimth.
But from where?
Where else? Dru followed the invaders as far back as he could and found that all of them dwindled at the same point. The region where he had noted the rift.
The Vraad had been trying with little success to break into the shrouded realm… and here it was, encroaching now upon their own!
IV
Gerrod stood on the plain where a group of Tezerenee, led by his cousin Ephraim, worked to provide the clan and those allied with it the bodies they would need in the days to come. The other Vraad as yet did not know that proving one’s loyalty to the sons of the dragon would be a prerequisite for their survival.
He had come here to escape the wrath of his father, if only for a time, who had been livid from the moment it was discovered the outsider Zeree had left the city. Gerrod both admired and scorned the outsider. Admired him for both defying Barakas and providing the research that had been of such immeasurable value. Scorned him as an outsider and weak man when it came to certain necessities. Still, Dru Zeree had been the only man Gerrod felt safe admitting at least some of his feelings to for now. He had not told him everything, but it was safe to assume that a quick mind like Zeree’s was capable of reading much from the tone of his voice.
The deeper truth was that unlike his multitude of obedient relations, the young Tezerenee had no desire to live in a world formed by his progenitor’s continually growing religious fervor. As a matter of fact, he had no desire to live anywhere his father lived, dragon spirit or not.
Ephraim, his armor hanging oddly loose on his body, finally rose from the center of the pentagram etched in the earth. Gerrod frowned impatiently. He had stood here for nearly twenty minutes, far too long for a respectful wait. That was one of the problems. Among his own clan, he felt out of place, unnecessary except as an assistant to Rendel. This despite all the work that he had done.
“What is it you want?”
The voice was horribly dead of any emotion, something terribly alien in the violent Tezerenee. Gerrod studied his cousin before answering. Ephraim’s face was pale and gaunt, hardly the heavy, weather-beaten figure who had come here only three days ago. There was also a faraway look in his eyes that chilled Gerrod.
“Did you feel it when Rendel took over the first golem?”
“Yes. It was painful for him.” Ephraim’s eyes would not meet his but insisted on staring beyond the hooded Tezerenee’s shoulder.
“You’ve made changes, then?”
“We have.”
“How soon can you begin on the others?”
“We have nearly a dozen completed.” The pale face broke into a thin, satisfied smile.
“Already?” Gerrod was taken aback. Small wonder that his cousin was so pale, if they were already hard at work on the hosts for the Vraad ka.
“There seemed no reason to wait. It’s quite… entertaining.” The ghostly smile remained fixed, as if forgotten by its bearer.
This was news Gerrod knew he would have to take to his father personally. He could ill afford to hesitate with this, despite his lack of desire for the cross-over’s success. Not just the jump on creation of the golems, but the effort being put in by the group. If Ephraim was any indication, the strain must be terrible. Barakas would have him punished if something went wrong and it could be proved that Gerrod had been at fault.
“You’ll need help. Father will send others to replace those who cannot go on.”
“No!” A white, cold hand reached out and snared one of Gerrod’s wrists. “We will not falter! This is our calling!”
The eyes of his cousin blazed bright. Gerrod peeled his hand free. Ephraim’s gaze finally met his own. It was not one the hooded Vraad cared to stare into for very long.
