When it was almost a foot taller than Melenea, the wolf ceased growing. Sharissa focused long enough to know that she was staring at the enchantress’s familiar.
“I live to serve you, lady.” The wolf’s voice was little more than a deep growl.
“We have a guest with us, Cabal. Her name is Sharissa Zeree.” Melenea turned and smiled at the younger Vraad. “This is Cabal, Shari sweet. It’ll watch over you so that you can rest easy. Cabal will let nothing happen to you.”
“Will I get to play with her, lady?” Cabal asked, eyeing Sharissa in a manner that seemed more suited for sizing up a snack as opposed to studying a potential playmate.
“Perhaps later. I have given you a duty to perform. You will watch Shari at all times, make certain she is secure.”
“I obey knowing my life is yours.”
“That’s as it should be.” Melenea stroked the head of the massive wolf, then stepped closer to Sharissa, who tried in vain to concentrate enough to rise. The beautiful enchantress sat down beside her and stroked her hair. “No need to rise,” she heard Melenea say, though the voice sounded as if it had passed through a long tunnel. “You sleep. Later, you’ll have my undivided attention.”
The kiss on her forehead tickled Sharissa, making her giggle rather giddily. Her last view of Melenea was of the sorceress rising and smiling to herself. The crystals she had gotten from Sharissa were in her hand. There was something not quite right about the image, for the smile had no warmth in it. Dru’s daughter shifted uneasily, rest momentarily put off.
Melenea had vanished by the time she forced herself to look again, but the familiar, Cabal, lay watching her from no more than ten feet away. It had an eager expression on its lupine visage, as if looking forward to something. Its size further unsettled Sharissa. She rolled over so that if she opened her eyes again, they would not settle immediately on the massive wolf.
The masks stared back at her.
Frustrated, more awake than asleep now, the young Zeree squeezed her eyes closed. Of all places, this was the one in which she should have felt most at ease. Here, Sharissa should be able to get the rest that she knew she needed. It was only a matter of letting her exhaustion take over again. That was all.
Lying on the floor, with its gaze ever on its charge, the huge Cabal opened its mouth wide and yawned its boredom. Its eyes glittered in the candlelight, black, pupilless things that never blinked.
Outside, a storm was brewing. Such was not uncommon on magic-torn Nimth and, especially, near the domain of one such as Melenea, who cast spells almost wantonly. There would be no rain… there was never any rain. Sharissa enjoyed the sounds of a storm even though she knew that the storm itself was a product of Nimth’s twisted nature. The thunder eased her troubled mind… and at last allowed her to sleep.
The stonework monster snapped its peculiar jaws closed, sending bits of mortar and marble flying. It was constantly losing pieces of itself, but new fragments continually replenished its form.
Go! Flee! The words sprang to life within Dru’s head unbidden. He was sorely tempted to follow them, but some deep, arrogant pride kept him from doing so.
Below him, Darkhorse shook his head, as if trying to clear it of noise. The sorcerer suspected that his companion was hearing the same words, that those words had been planted by the chaotic creature before them.
Fear! Death!
On cue, the leviathan stretched forward, snapping its make-shift jaws at them. A shower of dust and fragments threatened to smother Dru. Fortunately, none of the fragments was large enough to injure him.
“They are all around us, friend Dru! One of them has taken on this form! I find it interesting, but also highly annoying! Must it shout within our minds so? Does it need us to fear it so much?”
That was the question that the sorcerer had been asking himself. For all its size and apparent strength, the behemoth was holding back. Why? If it meant to destroy them, it certainly had the opportunity.
Darkhorse had said that one of the unseen beings-they could no longer be simply thought of as concentrations of sorcerous power-had clothed itself in this form. The beings had known about them since at least the huge, circular edifice, yet had not confronted them sooner. That meant that they were guardians, yet as guardians, would they not be able to strike back?
Somehow, Dru suspected that they could or would not. The only question remained-if it was a case of the latter, was there a point that he might cross that would unleash their strength?
“Ride forward, Darkhorse.”
“At our peculiar friend? Little Dru, you never cease to entertain me!” Laughing, the ebony steed pushed forward.
Wolves! Teeth that tear! Mangled bodies! Blood!
The words by themselves would not have bothered Dru, but each was accompanied by images of his corpse-what was left of it-scattered about on the rocky surface of the city. He saw the wolf grinding up his bones in its stony teeth. Despite his attempts, he could not help feeling more than a little uneasy as they drew nearer and nearer to the odd horror.
When they were within what the Vraad estimated was no more than twenty feet of the monster, it collapsed.
The ensuing storm of dust and rock caught Dru by surprise. He coughed for several seconds, trying to breathe in a cloud of dirt. Darkhorse froze where he was, evidently knowing that the sorcerer’s grip was nonexistent and a wrong step would send him falling. The ebony stallion’s grasp of human frailties was growing.
It took some time for the dust to settle, but when it had, Dru’s view left him puzzled. There was nothing before him that seemed to warrant such protection. Yet, this close he could feel the consternation of the unseen beings, the questioning sensation, as if they did not know what to do about the twosome. In Darkhorse they must have sensed incredible ability. Dru pictured servants, much like his darkdwellers, whose ultimate purpose was something other than fighting. The darkdwellers would attack his enemies if there was no one else to protect his sanctum, but they would do so haphazardly, lacking as they did any real knowledge of combat. The guardians of this place, he decided, were much the same.
Wisdom, a voice, different from the first, whispered in his mind. Understanding.
Aberration, came another. Not to be here.
Darkhorse roared at the unseen speakers, shouting sentiments that matched Dru’s quite closely. “Enough voices in my mind! Speak to us or be gone! Come! Are you so afraid of us?”
That was the truth of it, the sorcerer knew. The guardians did fear them. Not just because the two of them had come this far, either. It was because they knew the two to be different, to be outsiders.
Remove them! That was the first voice, the one that had taken the thought of wolves from the Vraad’s mind and attempted to use it as a means of scaring them off. Remove them!
No, the one who had commented on wisdom said calmly. Each of the guardians seemed to have a separate personality or perhaps a separate characteristic. There were more than the three who had spoken, but Dru took these as the more dominant of the guardians.
No interference, the one who had called them aberrations said, almost as if reminding the others of something. All must proceed.
Darkhorse kicked at the rubble, frustrated that the beings would not speak directly to them. The sorcerer put a warning hand against the shadow steed’s side. In his ear, Dru whispered, “Calm yourself. I think they may leave.”
“Why should they leave?” Darkhorse asked much too loudly. The tired Vraad winced, knowing that the guardians must have heard his companion. For that matter, they probably knew what the sorcerer himself had said, so easily did they touch the mind.
No interference, a multitude of ghostly voices echoed suddenly in Dru’s head. With that, the entities withdrew from both his mind and the vicinity. One breath they were there, the next they were gone. Dru could sense no trace of them.