Neither they nor the two prisoners were disappointed.
Dru leaned forward, careful to avoid the attention of his guide. The entire focus wavered as if it were composed of smoke rather than crystal and metal. The four near the center stepped back again, but it was due more to some ritual, the sorcerer believed, than any fear on their part.
The focus was no longer visible as such; it now swirled, a tiny, gray whirlwind. No, not a whirlwind, for it had shape of some sort, almost a crude rectangle. What had caused him to see it as a whirlwind were tiny shapes that ran madly across its surface in an eternal chase. It was going through a metamorphosis, becoming some other artifact. Dru wondered if it would have done the same for him or whether he would have ended up killing himself.
Xiri caught his eye. She frowned and indicated the odd form growing in the center of the room. It was hardly what she had expected. The Vraad was equally confused.
Again the four who had been the catalyst for the change stepped away, this time giving the object-or perhaps it was a familiar or demon of some sort-a far greater space into which to spread. That proved a wise move, for in seconds the rectangular shape had risen to a height nearly half again as tall as those who had summoned it. As it had grown, so too had the shapes scurrying about its frame. They were black and might have been reptilian in nature, though they moved with such speed that they were generally little more than blurs. Staring at them for more than the blink of an eye stirred an uneasy feeling in the disconcerted spellcaster’s stomach. He had no desire to study them closely.
Returning his attention to the structure as a whole, he finally recognized what stood before them. Xiri had mentioned that her ancestors had discovered a hole… or a hole had discovered them, for as with so much that this ancient race had created, it had a life of sorts. A life in a similar sense to the way Darkhorse had a life. Certainly, it did not live as she or Dru did.
It was a gate. No, not merely a gate. That was hardly suitable for the pulsating, magical doorway standing before them. Rather, it was the Gate. A name more than a description since it lived. Dru dared to take a few steps to one side. No matter what direction he looked at it, it always seemed to face him. He knew that Xiri would see it the same way.
Glancing at the worlds painted on the walls and ceiling, he understood now how the founders might have crossed from here to any of their creations.
Nimth.
He caught sight of the image, stared at the figure of a Vraad, then felt an uncontrollable urge to face the Gate once more.
“Serkadion Manee!”
Within the frame of the Gate, there now stood the entrance to another world. Dru did not have to ask to know it was his own.
His guide left his side and stepped toward the waiting artifact. The shapes on its frame seemed to slow, though they were still not quite in focus.
Less than an arm’s length from the passageway to Dru’s world, the golem halted. It raised one hand, then lowered it in one harsh swing.
Nimth vanished, to be replaced by… nothing. More than nothing. The sorcerer knew what doorway had now been opened. His recognition of the Void was accompanied by a sense of growing dread.
The faceless being who had stood beside him turned then and, indicating the vast emptiness within the Gate, gestured for Dru to step forward.
XVI
There were still angry Vraad moving about what remained of the communal city, but most had departed. Ever distrusting of their brethren, the majority had returned to the safety of their private domains, there to brood and pout at the trick that had been played on them. They would be so engrossed in their self-pity and their eternal plots for vengeance that they would probably never get around to devising their own ways of escaping… something the Tezerenee had proved quite able to do.
It was those few who still remained, still seeking to find some stray ally of the dragon clan or merely desiring to unleash their frustration, who worried Gerrod. Having had one attempt at teleportation misdirected, he was not looking forward to a second try at any point in the near future. Sharissa shared his fear in that respect, which was why the two of them still remained in hiding, despite the occasional passing of a blood-thirsty sorcerer. The room they presently called safety was a tiny storage chamber in a flat, black building on the opposite side of the city from the building where the Lord Barakas had made many of his fine speeches of cooperation, including the one in which he had seemed to promise that all Vraad would indeed be crossing into the new world.
Oddly, it was Dru’s daughter who had finally had enough. She stalked over to her hooded companion and leaned over him, arms crossed. “The great and powerful Tezerenee! To think that I was afraid of you! What have you brought us to? How could you abandon Sirvak?”
Gerrod had no answer for the first question and he had already answered the second one more than a dozen times in the past few minutes alone. That, by no means, prevented Sharissa from asking it again. With her father gone, Sirvak was all she had. She no longer trusted Melenea, which, as far as the young Tezerenee was concerned, was the only good that had come of the whole incident.
“I told you, child! Sirvak flew out one of the windows the moment I snared you! It is likely back in your domain, awaiting us!” He looked up at her, more than matching her glare. “Try and remember that for at least a second or two, will you? I need to think!”
“Maybe one of those grateful folk outside would be willing to help you think! You’ve done nothing but brood since we found this place!”
He started to snap back at her, then saw that she spoke the truth. He was acting much like those he had always despised. The Zeree whelp had not helped his situation, however. He spread his hands wide and replied, “I would welcome whatever masterful plan you have conceived during all the time you’ve been berating me.”
Sharissa clamped her mouth shut and gave him a stare that should have, by rights, burned a hole through his head.
“I thought as much.” Stimulated by both her words and his growing shame, Gerrod pushed himself harder.
“Have you noticed something?” she asked, disturbing the peace he had finally gained.
“Besides the inability on your part to remain silent for more than a breath?”
She ignored his remark. “For all the damage they did to the city, it should have been far worse.”
“I think they’re doing an admirable job.”
“I mean that they’re in the same predicament as we are! They can’t trust their spells!”
Gerrod straightened, feeling very stupid. He had understood that when dealing with Melenea, understood it because he knew she lived near an unstable region. The warlock had not considered it in respect to Nimth as a whole. Sleep. I need sleep! That was why he could not think straight. When was the last time he had slept? “And so? What else does that suggest to you?”
“I don’t know.” Sharissa looked crestfallen.
The Tezerenee slumped again. “Waste of time!”
“At least we could accomplish something if we were back home! I haven’t given up on Father! I know he’s alive somewhere!”
The eternal optimism of the child, Gerrod thought bitterly. It did gall him, however, to sit here, virtually helpless. He was used to acting-not without thought, of course-but what could he do? The business with Melenea was not finished; he knew her too well to think she would simply lie down and wait for the end of Nimth. No, to her thinking, he had made a master move. Now, it was her turn… and, perhaps, that was the fear that kept him sitting in this hole rather than doing his best to find a way to cross. As much as he despised the company of his clan, the shrouded realm did represent continued life and that was the hooded Vraad’s primary goal now that he had the Zeree child.