refused to accept the possibility that its master was dead. Sharissa wondered if there was an even stronger link between the magical beast and her father than the one of blood between Dru and herself. Come home, mistresss.
What is it?
Hesitation formed a silence that stretched Sharissa’s nerves taut. When she could wait no longer, the young Vraad asked again, this time with more emphasis in case the familiar was forgetting who she was.
May be a way to find masterrr, mistresss.
She almost shouted out loud, so overjoyed did the startling announcement make her. Sirvak, however, was quick to dampen her spirits before she grew too happy.
May, mistresss! Not certain! Need your guidance!
I’ll come instantly! There’s no need to wait!
Must not! It was as if her father himself had scolded her. Must take care. Never trust a Vraad, master always said.
They’re busy with their own problems, she retorted.
The familiar let loose with a mental sigh. Do as you must then, mistress. Take care, though.
Sirvak broke the link.
Rising, Sharissa stepped over to the doorway and leaned outside. The hall was empty. The young Vraad stepped back inside and moved to the sole window of her chambers. Her view overlooked the courtyards where the Vraad still gathered, talking and attempting to outshine one another. The coming had spread to the surrounding lands-as her father had said it usually did, and she could see some of her more flamboyant counterparts showing off. There was now a mountain of glittering diamond beyond the northern walls and a vast lake of water-truly a difficult spell, she acknowledged silently-on the eastern edge of the mountain. Beyond, there were flashes and sounds, none of which Sharissa could identify with anything that she had learned.
Dru had spoken of the subdued manner of this, the last coming. Only those with long-standing grudges, like Silesti and Dekkar, were likely to stir things up. Such massive displays of sorcery, however, spoke for the confidence of the Vraad race in the Lord Tezerenee’s plans. Everyone understood, at least somewhat, that the more sorcery unleashed, the worse Nimth grew. Already, the sickening green covered the murky sky. It saddened Sharissa to think of what her kind would be leaving behind and she hoped that the new land would not suffer the same.
That was if they ever succeeded in migrating over there.
No one would miss her for some time; Sharissa was certain of that now. Lord Barakas would have his entire clan working to solve whatever disaster had befallen his dreams. He would have no time for her or her father’s disappearance. Other than Gerrod, they probably thought he was dead by now, not that she had not thought of that herself constantly. With great effort, Sharissa once again pushed the ugly vision from her mind. Sirvak’s confidence bolstered her. It had to; it was the only thing she had to lean on.
Sharissa gazed down at the throngs one last time and her eyes caught on a lone figure seeming to watch the rest with barely constrained amusement. She leaned forward, not thinking to adjust her sight accordingly.
As if feeling the eyes upon her, the single Vraad looked up. Sharissa was greeted by a vibrant smile that washed away the terror and distress of the last few days. It was such a wonderful feeling that she could not help being caught up in it. She smiled in return.
In the next breath, Sharissa was no longer alone in the chamber. The other female was with her, reaching out to take her in her arms, ready to comfort the younger woman. Sharissa went to her gladly, knowing that she had found someone with whom she could share her problem.
“You look both distraught and beautiful, dear sweet Shari! What has that beast Barakas been doing to you? Why are you here instead of with your father?”
“Father’s in terrible trouble!” Sharissa burst out. It had been so long since the two of them had seen each other, but the feeling of safety and assurance she felt now washed away the years of absence.
“Why don’t you tell me all about it,” her companion said, smoothing Sharissa’s wild, tangled hair. “Then we can see about doing something.” Sharissa started to speak, but was cut off. “No, on second thought, let us go elsewhere; too many Tezerenee here for my tastes.”
“I was going to go home. Sirvak said I should. He said-”
“Hush! Let us depart for your father’s wondrous castle of pearl, then, sweet Shari.” The smile broadened, smothering any doubts Sharissa still had. “You’ll have to do it, however. Your father lets no one in and I think Sirvak must be the same. So very distrustful.”
“Sirvak has no say in what I do,” the young Zeree commented defiantly. “If I want you with me, he’ll obey.”
Melenea stroked Sharissa’s hair again. “That’s exactly what I thought.”
VII
“Come, come! I grow bored at this! How long will you dawdle there, little Dru?”
Dru did not answer him at first, still caught up in his thoughts. Day had given way to night-a night filled with stars and two moons! — and yet the sorcerer was only beginning to comprehend the patterns of the world around him. Unlike Barakas, he had never intended on charging into the phantom domain, uncaring of what obstacles might lay in the immigrants’ path. Dru knew that even with the tremendous abilities of the creature who floated beside him, there might be dangers too great to combat. His own powers, while they had returned, were unpredictable, even more so than they had of late been back in Nimth.
Shifting form again, Darkness once more tried to berate his companion into movement. Behind the blustery tones were undercurrents of fear and excitement. “You can protest all you want, little Dru, but I have brought you home! Even if you cannot remember it, I can!”
That was the other thing that kept Dru from moving on, the shadowy blot’s insistence that this was Nimth. Even after the sorcerer had given Darkness permission to search his memories again, the entity had argued that he had not made an error. Dru had decided not to push too hard; Darkness had an ego as great as his interior, the latter of which seemed to go on into infinity when the spellcaster stared long enough.
Somewhere along the way, Dru had chosen to think of the creature as male. Perhaps it was the deepness of the blot’s voice or perhaps it was the overbearing arrogance. In some ways, his companion reminded him of Barakas. Knowing that Darkness could pick up the thought, Dru had buried it deep. He suspected Darkness already knew how he felt about the patriarch of the dragon clan.
“I want to try something,” Dru finally said. “When I’m through, then we can move on for a short while.”
“What is a ‘while’?” Darkness pulsated. Despite the light of the two moons and the stars, the lands around them were barely visible. Darkness, however, was blacker than the night, so much so that he almost stood out as a beacon.
Dru knew better than to try to explain time to a creature who dwelled in a place that itself did not comprehend the concept. Instead, he concentrated on a tree before him and muttered a memory-jogging phrase.
The tree should have withered, should have dwindled to a dry husk and crumbled before his eyes. It did nothing, but a black death spread across the grass beneath the sorcerer’s feet. He leaped away, forgoing pride for safety.
“Good! Now we can depart!” Darkness rumbled, ignorant of the failure of the Vraad’s spell.
“Wait!”
“What is it now?”
Kneeling by the blackened, dead blades, Dru tried to inspect the damage in the dim illumination. As he had spoken the fanciful phrase, he had felt the familiar twinge as the essence of Nimth bowed to his overpowering will, but it had been checked by a fierce protesting force from the shrouded realm itself. The sorcerer touched the grass, only to have it disintegrate into a fine powder. Dru cleared his throat at the thought of what might have happened if he had remained standing on the spot.
This world will not bend to us so easily as the last, he concluded nervously. This was not just spell failure; this was a battle of wills, so to speak. He already knew that a second or even a third attempt would gain him the
