A handful of seconds later, Barakas was calling the party to a halt. By this time, Lochivan was probably at least a hundred lengths behind. His drake, in fact, had turned around and started back the way they had come.
“Lochivan!” the patriarch roared.
His son did not respond. Lochivan might have been unconscious for all he moved. Still, the patriarch tried again.
Sharissa had no patience for this. She turned her reluctant mount toward the distant figure. “If he does not come when you call, it might be because he has not the power to do so! He might be too ill to do anything for himself!”
With that, she urged her drake on, breaking through the unsuspecting Tezerenee and racing for Lochivan.
“No, Sharissa! Wait!” Gerrod cried.
Taking advantage of the confusion of the moment, Faunon ripped the guide rope from the hands of his own escort and rode off after the fearful sorceress. She gave him a look of thanks as he broke through after her, then concerned herself with trying to catch the other drake before it decided to take its helpless rider on a mad run into the wilderness.
“Lochivan!”
She saw him stir. He was still hunched over in a way that to her looked excruciating, but now he was at least acting. More than half the distance separating the party and the straggler were now behind her. She no longer had any idea if anyone was following her save Faunon. For all she knew, it went against the ways of the clan to aid someone who could not control his own illness. It would be just the draconian type of thought that the clan would choose to follow.
When only a third of the distance still remained, Lochivan suddenly straightened and glanced back. He kept most of his back to her, craning his neck just enough to see her. Even had he not worn the helm, it would have been impossible not to see his features, to read the pain that was likely near to crippling him.
She had no idea what to expect from him, but his reaction, when it finally came, so startled her that she almost reined the riding drake to a halt.
Keeping his back turned to her, Lochivan waved her away. Sharissa blinked, wondering why he would turn back the aid he so obviously needed. She had no intention of turning back anyway. Even if the Tezerenee thought he did not need help, the sorceress knew he did.
From behind her, Sharissa heard Gerrod’s straining voice. He, like his brother, wanted her to turn away.
“Lochivan!” she called. “You need help! You’re ill, Lochivan!”
“Turn away and flee!” he shouted. His voice sent shivers through her, for it was far, far worse than anytime prior. He sounded more like an animal struggling to free itself from a trap than a man.
The Tezerenee’s drake began to buck, completely confused as to what its rider wanted of it. Lochivan kept waving the reins as he sought to discourage Sharissa from coming any closer. “Leave me be! Ssssave yoursssself, you little fool! Lissssten to my brother!”
He was hunched up again, as if straining against his armor, of all things. Sharissa tried to get close enough to reach him, but her mount suddenly balked. She kicked its sides and swore at it as she had seen so many Tezerenee do, but the creature refused to go any closer, instead skittering back and forth where it was, much to her growing annoyance.
Lochivan was practically folded in two, and his pain was now so terrible that he did not even try to hold back. His shriek only made the situation that much worse, for it renewed the frenzied back-and-forth movements of the drakes. Sharissa had to hang on for dear life-and then wondered why she was bothering with the drake. It would be easier at this point to abandon the mount and run to Lochivan.
Trying not to think about what a confused creature such as the ill Tezerenee’s drake might do when she moved too close, Sharissa leaped off her own mount. From the edge of her field of vision, she saw Faunon pull up nearby and immediately abandon his own animal. To her horror, he ran directly toward the menacing jaws of the frightened drake.
“Deal with him!” the elf shouted. “I will bring the monster under control!”
She nodded, saving her gratitude for when this task was done, and cautiously made her way to Lochivan’s side.
He was shivering, his visage still turned away from her, and his armor seemed not to match the shape of his body. The leg that she could see from where she stood looked to be broken, judging by the angle at which it was bent. How that had happened on the back of a riding drake was a question Sharissa could find no answer for. When she finally pulled him to safety, she could concern herself with questions.
“Lochivan! Dismount! That monster could throw you off!” In his condition, that might prove fatal. She moved a few steps closer. Now he was only just out of arm’s reach. To her right, the sorceress saw that Faunon had caught hold of the reins, which Lochivan, in his pain, had finally lost. So far, he was keeping the drake from running amok, and that was all Sharissa could hope for.
“Get away from me!” He growled, waving one gauntleted hand at her while still trying to look away. Had the disease ravaged him so, or… could it be?
She lost hold of the frightening thought as his hand came within reach. Lunging, Sharissa took hold.
“Nooo!” With a turn of his wrist, Lochivan’s gauntlet came loose-revealing a twisted, clawed hand covered in dark, grayish scales!
He turned toward her then, his other hand reaching for the helm that seemed to no longer fit him and was, in fact, straining to burst. “I warned you, Sharissa! I wanted you to not sssssee thisss! I wanted no one to ssssee this!”
The rest of the party had arrived. Barakas was already off his mount and running toward his son when Lochivan reached up with his clawed hand and, voicing his agony again, pulled the helm back so that his visage was no longer obscured.
“Serkadion Manee! Oh, Lochivan, no!”
“Yessss, Sharissa!”
A scaled monstrosity stared back at her, toothy smile mocking the wearer himself. It was small wonder the helm had seemed tight. The nose and mouth had molded into one and were expanding even as she watched. Despite its strength, she could see that the armor was tearing apart in many places as every part of the body went through the transformation at the same time.
Lochivan had not only become what poor Ivor or those at the cavern had become, but he was already progressing beyond them.
Their true nature… The mad guardian had said something like that when speaking of what the Tezerenee would become. She could hear the elemental laughing even now. The Tezerenee had not crossed from Nimth to the Dragon-realm by physical means; their spirits had entered flesh-and-blood golems that magic had created in this world. Those bodies, however, had not been formed from flesh taken from anything human. No, in his infinite wisdom and a desire to make the drake even more a symbol of his clan, Barakas had dictated that the source of those new bodies would be the dragons discovered on this world.
And now those bodies were becoming what they should have been in the first place.
“Lochivan!” The patriarch came up beside Sharissa and reached out a hand toward his son. The other Tezerenee, save Gerrod, who kept as far away as possible, were circling drake and rider.
“I wassssn’t ssstrong enough, Father! I failed! I could not redeem mysssself!”
“Forget that! I can help you!”
“No one can! I… I have trouble even thinking of myssself assss ever being human! It… it issss… almost as if my mind changessss assss my body doessss!”
Barakas, ignoring the wild look in the reptilian eyes of his son, moved within arm’s reach. His tone was smooth but commanding. “You are Tezerenee, Lochivan! Our very name is power! There is nothing that can withstand our will! You have only to let me help you fight it! You have only to let me-”
He broke off as a hissing Lochivan sprang from the back of the drake and launched himself at the patriarch.