He had hoped she knew more than she had let on, but such was not the case. The information was there, but…
Fool! His laughter, full and vibrant, brought a panicked look from Sharissa, who could not understand what he found so amusing. She would not have understood how the laughter was both a sign of his relief and his way of mocking himself for being so blind. He stood up and, in his merriment, took Sharissa and hugged her tight. Even after he finally released her, she stood there, stunned into immobility.
It was not his fault entirely. Tunnel vision was a trait that his race could claim as one of their most dominant features. A Vraad who deeply believed in or desperately wanted something would concentrate on that one thing with an obsession that would make them ignore a hundred more reasonable solutions or beliefs. It was what had kept many a feud going for centuries. It was why few Vraad mixed with one another for more than a few years, if that long. It was a stubbornness of sorts, one that made a solution to the eventual death of Nimth and its inhabitants impossible, for that meant putting aside their arrogant belief in themselves and working in cooperation with one another.
“We’re leaving! Somehow, we’re leaving! Even if we have to walk back to your domain!”
“Why? What do you have in mind?” Sharissa was smiling, caught up in his enthusiasm and the dream of returning to the citadel of pearl.
“We’ve both been wrong. You wanted to find a way to bring your father back here. So did I. Why?”
“I… he’s my father!”
Gerrod sighed. “And you worry about him. Fine. Let me rephrase it, then! What was he hoping to accomplish?”
“He hoped to find a different way to cross over to the realm beyond the-oh!”
“He found one! He has to be over there! Why bring him here, something we don’t know how to do, when we can follow him there! If it worked for Master Zeree, then it should work just as easily for us!”
The fear had returned to mar her delicate features. She was not unattractive, he knew, but she had a way of grating on him that the young Tezerenee could not explain even to himself. “What is it now?”
Sharissa described her father’s departure, including his struggle to escape.
Gerrod saw the problem instantly. “Then we shall be careful not to teleport during the change. That leaves us with only two more problems.”
Emboldened once more-and evidently more willing to trust him now that he had made concrete suggestions in regard to her father-Sharissa responded, “One is the timing. It fluctuates. We don’t know how long we might have to wait… if it will happen at all.”
“Oh, it will.” Having had both Dru Zeree’s notes and those of his brother’s to add to his own knowledge, he probably now knew more about the unstable regions of Nimth than anyone did, especially concerning the rapid rate of growth they had achieved. Nimth did not have half as long as his father had once believed. Of course, the Vraad would still all be dead before then, the wild magic of the world and their own stupidity a combination they could not possibly survive. “I doubt we’ll have to wait for very long.”
He started walking to the door, deciding that things were not yet desperate enough for sorcery, but she stopped him with a question. “What was the other problem?”
Gerrod looked at her in surprise. “Surviving long enough to get there.”
Dru shook his head at the creature who stood near the Gate. If it came down to it, he would fight them with his fists and his teeth. A spell might be beyond him, but he would not go passively back into the Void.
The golem gestured again… and the Vraad’s body obeyed even while the mind began to struggle against it.
Something flashed in the light of the chamber, a metallic missile that flew toward the pointing golem with remarkable accuracy. It would have struck the being squarely in the side of the throat… had it reached its target.
Less than a foot from the open flesh, the blade Xiri had thrown in a futile attempt to save him ceased moving and fell straight down. It did not even make a clatter when it struck the floor. The assembled golems, even the one who had stood beside her, failed to even look her way. They remained intent on the portal and the Vraad, who was nearly at the base of the huge artifact.
Only two or three steps from an eternity of endless nothing, Dru’s body stopped. In the short walk, he had sweated profusely. Somewhere out in the Void, Darkhorse wandered, possibly looking for a way back, unless the guardians had broken yet another of their rules and removed that knowledge from his mind. It was a slim hope, but if they did send him through, the shadowy steed might find him again.
If not, Dru would float forever.
He readied himself, waiting the final push that would send him falling into the Void. When it did not come, he tried to observe the one who had forced him to this point. It was impossible; though the Vraad’s eyes could move, his head would not. He was transfixed before the Gate.
When his body became his once more, the sorcerer was so startled he nearly condemned himself to the very fate he had thought the faceless ones had planned for him. A hand caught the back of his robe and pulled him to a position farther from the menacing portal. The Gate closed off the pathway to the Void. Its sleek companions increased their pace once again, ever chasing one another over and over the artifact’s surface.
“Dru!” Xiri had her arms around him in a grip worthy of a Seeker. None of their “hosts” moved to separate the two and so they held one another tight in relief. Finally, the elf whispered, “I thought they would walk you straight into that… that…”
“It’s the Void.”
Her eyes widened. “Why do you suppose they put you through that torture?”
He shrugged. He had no intention of second-guessing the masters of this place if he could avoid it. Their ways were as different as those of the Seekers, perhaps even more so.
Hands reached out and finally pulled the two free of one another. A pair of the golems, possibly the same two who had led them into the chamber, took the intruders by the arm and indicated the doorway. Puzzled but relieved to be away from the Gate and its deadly potential, the Vraad and the elf accompanied them without protest.
Their guides walked them swiftly out of the room of worlds and back down the magnificent hallway. It was evident within seconds that they intended to deliver their charges back to the chamber of the dragon lord. Dru and his companion exchanged bewildered expressions even as they were ushered inside.
Nothing had changed within, which was almost a disappointment to the sorcerer. He had nearly expected the huge figure of the dragon lord to suddenly squat down, stare them in the eye, and speak. It did stare at him, but only as its counterpart in the ruined city had. Any life the statue contained was strictly a figment of Dru’s nerve-wracked imagination.
A second pair of the faceless beings entered the chamber and moved past the foursome. It began to irk the Vraad that he could not tell any of them apart. Had he not followed them through the rift and into the castle, ever mindful of the numbers, Dru might have wondered if there were only a handful who ran back and forth merely to fool their two prisoners into believing they were many. The sorcerer knew it was a foolish thought, but his predicament was tearing at his sanity. There might actually come a point, he feared, when he might prefer the Void to remaining among the faceless ones any longer.
The newcomers stepped up to the figurines and passed their hands over each. A few of the statuettes were removed and hidden from sight, somehow, in the robes of the two. With what was evident satisfaction, they backed away and indicated the remaining artifacts. Dru and Xiri were led forward.
“They want us to choose,” the elf whispered.