misplaced arrogance, he had thought he could so easily better.
One of the avian beings walked up to him, contempt for Rendel in every movement, every breath. It came within reach and simply matched his gaze. The Tezerenee found he could not turn away from the visage before him. His counterpart opened its sharp, savage beak and squawked something at him. Rendel wanted to shake his head, tell the creature that he could not understand it, but even that seemed hardly worth the trouble. In the back of his head, the same part that had fruitlessly demanded action now informed him bitterly that he was under a spell. He, who had been so confident of his power, had been captured effortlessly by his shadows. Rendel had not even felt the spell.
The avian leader, for that was who he assumed the creature was, leaned closer, cocking its head to one side so as to better observe him. That one eye, inhuman as it was, reminded Rendel all too much of another eye. His father’s. In his captors, the Vraad had found a race whose arrogance appeared to match that of his own kind.
Seeming to find nothing of worth in what stood before it, the leader started to turn away. It paused midway, however, and slowly turned back, visibly contemplating something.
A taloned hand shot out toward the startled and helpless Rendel’s face. He would have screamed, picturing in his mind what those long, needle-sharp claws would do, but the world-the world he had thought he would conquer-suddenly turned into a welcome darkness that enveloped Rendel and took him away to a place where he could hide.
“Eat this, girl.”
Sharissa shook her head, not wanting anything from the Tezerenee woman who stood above her. For three days, since the dark one called Gerrod had found her lying near where the rift had last been, she had been a “guest” of the clan of the dragon. For three days, she had been questioned, in order that they might help her, yet she had not spoken a word to them. The first two days, the patriarch, a man who made Sharissa shiver when he stared at her, had chalked it down to panic. Why not? Something had happened to her father, something unexpected. What they wanted to know-what the Lord Tezerenee in particular wanted to know-was exactly what had happened to him?
Gerrod, who unnerved her with his ghostly appearance, had explained how he had found her there, still sobbing and unable to say anything coherent. It seemed to her that the patriarch frightened his own son as much as he frightened her, for the half-seen Tezerenee continually shrank deeper into the protective folds of his cloak, becoming, by tale’s end, little more than a walking piece of cloth.
Lord Barakas had been gruff and his lady had been sweet, caring almost, but Sharissa had said nothing. They did not push her after a certain point, likely because they still wanted, at the very least, the semblance of cooperation between the elder Zeree and the clan. A sudden break between the partners would raise the already strained suspicions of the rest of the Vraad. It pained her to remain silent, since if anyone was capable of aiding her in rescuing her father, it was the clan master. He had the most knowledge of the phantom realm.
The strain of three days of fighting her own fears had taken their toll. She was worn, thin, and unable to think. What was worse was that they would not let her alone, not allow her the needed privacy to work things out. Their “concern,” as Lady Alcia had put it, forced them to watch her day and night.
An impatient sigh from her latest guardian stirred her. “Weakling! I’ll leave it here. Maybe when you stop blubbering, you’ll be able to swallow it… though anyone who can’t conjure themselves up a meal on their own…”
Even as the voice faded off, Sharissa knew she was now alone. Like most Vraad, the Tezerenee had little patience for those unable to fend for themselves. Another one would be replacing the snide woman shortly, though, so Sharissa’s privacy was temporary, at best.
They are right! Nothing but a weakling! Sharissa scolded herself bitterly. She raised herself to a sitting position and slowly dragged the food over to her. A delicious odor drifted past her nose. There was no denying that the patriarch was treating her well-on the surface. What could she do now, however? There was no possibility of leaving the city without a score or more of the Tezerenee, not to mention any exceptionally paranoid Vraad celebrating the coming down below, from noting her departure. Sharissa was uncertain of her father’s true present status with the patriarch. Would he send dragon riders after her? Would he actually lay siege to the castle? Even Sirvak, skilled as the familiar was with its master’s defenses, would be hard-pressed to keep them out.
“Sharissa Zeree.”
A deathly cold wrapped itself about her spine and spread quickly throughout her person.
Gerrod’s shrouded figure stood at the doorway. “Are you better?”
He had treated her with nothing but respect and could have been considered harmless in comparison to those others she had met, but Sharissa could not warm to him. Gerrod lived in two worlds, and had hid too many things from even his lord and progenitor. He was, Dru would have said, an outstanding example of Vraad duplicity. Sharissa could feel that even though they had actually spoken very little.
“What do you want?”
Gerrod folded his legs and sat down on empty air. He floated nearer to her, much too near for Sharissa’s tastes. “This is foolish. Each moment that passes lessens the chances of Master Zeree’s survival. I know where he must be; I’ve searched everywhere else for him.” From the bitterness in his tones, Sharissa guessed that the bulk of the task had, indeed, been foisted upon her visitor. For the first time, she was able to sympathize with Gerrod. “I know he must be across the veil.” The half-seen face moved closer. “How did he do it? Tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she finally replied, deciding that a partial truth might aid her. “The way through is no more. He can’t come back and no one can go after him.”
“Oh?” Gerrod straightened. His glittering eyes, temporarily visible, widened. “Then there is a way in which to-?”
Whatever his next words were to have been was something Sharissa would never discover, for one of the countless multitude of armored Tezerenee cousins or brothers materialized between them, anxiety evident in his agitated manner.
“Gerrod. Father wants you! Something-” The newcomer glanced at Sharissa, but appeared to find her of little importance. “Something is amiss! Go to him now!”
The hooded figure shifted, as if about to protest, then gradually sunk deeper within the protective layers of his cloak. “Where is he, Lochivan?”
“Ephraim.” It was all the other brother had to say. One moment, both Tezerenee faced each other in uneasy silence, then Sharissa was alone again. The clan of the dragon were not known for their long farewells, she decided.
The patriarch’s grand design was in jeopardy. That much was evident from Lochivan’s distress and Gerrod’s instant compliance at the mere mention of that other name. Sharissa had no proof that there was any connection between whatever the Tezerenee struggled with and the disappearance of her father save that both were tied to the land beyond the veil. Nonetheless, the feeling swept over her that the Vraad were facing something beyond their arrogant plans, beyond, perhaps, their varied and supposedly limitless abilities.
And here she sat, doing nothing.
Sharissa had spent most of her brief life secluded from the rest of her race. Dru Zeree, knowing the Vraad as he did-and remembering his own excesses-had wanted his sole child to have nothing to do with the others until he felt she was ready. The only question was, when was that to have been? As skilled as she had become with the use of sorcery, Sharissa was still an infant when it came to dealing with her kind. There had been a few scattered individuals throughout her life, but none who her father had wanted her to know intimately. Only a handful of names came to her from those passersby. One she remembered better than others, so alive had that particular Vraad been.
Perhaps…
Mistressss?
Sirvak? It was only the second time the familiar had contacted her since the horrifying events at the ridge. The first time, Sirvak had witnessed with her the fading of the forest and her father’s last desperate attempt to escape his fate. The familiar had broken contact with her moments after Gerrod had reached her, emphasizing that it would reestablish the link. Sirvak distrusted the Tezerenee-all Vraad, in fact-more than even Dru had.
Alone, mistressss?
Yes. Is Father-
The creature silenced her with a mental hiss. No, mistressss. Masterrrr issss still away. Sirvak apparently
