He was stalling and everyone knew it, but no one wanted to be the first inside the buildings-where the true carnage might be awaiting them.
A short time later, they noticed the prints in the earth. They had come across drake prints throughout their search, even before they had entered the citadel, but not so many as this. There were prints everywhere, many of them bloodstained. Sharissa was intrigued despite herself by the thoroughness with which the drakes appeared to have scoured this area.
At the clan master’s command, two of the remaining warriors rode forward for a piece and vanished around some buildings.
“Where did you send them?” Sharissa asked, not liking anything that lessened the strength of their party.
“To verify something for me. They will be in no danger. The other gateway is not far from here.”
“And us, Father?” Gerrod asked, his eyes darting here and there as if he expected a hundred Lochivans to leap out at them.
“We dismount. I need see no more of the yard. It is time to investigate the buildings.”
Knowing the futility of arguing, Sharissa and her companions dismounted in silence. Two Tezerenee took charge of the steeds. As the sorceress smoothed her clothing, she happened to glance up at Darkhorse.
She could see through him!
“Darkhorse!” All thought of the ghostly citadel pushed aside for the time being, Sharissa ran over to the eternal and tried to touch him. His eyes were closed, and his form seemed wracked with pain.
“I… I am weaker than I supposed, Sharissa! I fear that I will be very ineffective for quite some time!”
“But you will be all right?”
“I… believe so.” Darkhorse opened wide his eyes and glared at his former captor. “My apologies… for… any inconvenience, dragonlord! I do not know what could be the matter… with me!”
What remark the patriarch was to make would remain lost, for the two Tezerenee given the unenviable task appeared around the corner. They seemed anxious but not frightened, a good sign as far as the sorceress was concerned. Anything that frightened the Tezerenee was not something she had any desire to face.
The two dismounted the instant they reached the party. Both knelt before their lord.
“Speak.”
One warrior, taller and thinner than his companion, said, “It is as you supposed, Lord Barakas. There is a great trail formed by the gathering of many drakes and leading out of the other gateway. The gateway itself is far more battered than the one we entered by. I would have to say a great exodus occurred here.”
Barakas looked around to make certain the others had heard. His gaze fell for an extended time upon Sharissa.
“How long ago was this exodus?” Gerrod asked.
The second Tezerenee looked at his master, who nodded permission to him to reply to Gerrod’s question. “A week, we decided. A few traces are older, a few younger.”
“It started so soon…” Barakas studied the two scouts. “You saw no life.”
“More blood and the remains of a riding drake, my lord,” the first one responded. “It still wore part of a bridle. One of its own had killed it.”
One of its own or something just as savage? Sharissa wondered if the same thought was going through the mind of Barakas. Why would two riding drakes struggle? They were trained to work beside each other. It would take fear or bloodlust of unbelievable proportions to make them turn on each other.
“We have our answer, then,” the patriarch announced, turning so that he looked at everyone. “There was danger and people died, but the many trails indicate that the bulk of the clan has abandoned the citadel, choosing to go south, I suppose.”
“Why would they abandon this place?” Gerrod asked, ever, it seemed, seeking to estrange himself further from his progenitor. “Something must have made them. Where is it, Father? Where did it go? Not after them, I think. There is still something here. Can you not feel it?”
“I feel nothing.”
“So I have noticed.”
Barakas reached for his son, but the warlock was too swift. Sharissa came between them.
“Stop it! Lord Barakas, if the others rode off, we should follow them, not remain here and risk encountering trouble that might prove too great for us to handle!”
The patriarch cooled down. “Perhaps you are correct. Perhaps we should-” He broke off. “Alcia!”
“What about her?”
He looked at the sorceress as if perplexed she would ask such a thing. “She’s in the great hall!”
The rest of the party stirred, wondering how the lord of the Tezerenee could know that. Sharissa hesitated, then asked, “What makes you say that?”
“I heard her voice, of course!” Barakas looked at his companions as if they had all turned deaf. “She just called to us! She needs our assistance!”
Sharissa and the others stared at him.
“Bah! My ears are still good even if yours aren’t!” He turned away and started toward the building in which the great hall lay. Though they had not heard anything, three of his warriors followed close behind. The other two remained with the riding drakes. Sharissa’s companions looked to her, knowing that her oath bound them here.
“We could leave now,” suggested the elf. “There seems nothing to accomplish here, and I do not like the thought of following someone who imagines voices.”
Gerrod turned and stared after his father. “I thought I heard a sound like a voice…”
Sharissa frowned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I made out nothing distinct. Certainly not my mother calling us! I think I’d recognize that!”
“I wish I could feel anything that made sense!” she muttered. Sighing, the spellcaster started after the vanished Tezerenee. “I think we’d better follow him.”
Something large hissed. Sharissa ignored it, thinking it merely one of their mounts, when Faunon put a hand on her shoulder and hurriedly whispered, “Sharissa! To your left!”
Staring out from the broken doorway of one of the nearby buildings, a savage-looking drake blinked at them. It was more than twice the size of the steeds, a true dragon. From the way it moved, it had just woken up. Reptilian eyes glared at the tiny figures and then at the suddenly apprehensive mounts. The two Tezerenee struggled to maintain control over the simple beasts.
“We rode right by that thing!” whispered Gerrod. “My father seems to have grown lax in his abilities as a warrior and a leader. He should have never-”
“Never mind that now!” Faunon touched the hilt of his sword, but then thought better of it. He glanced at the riding drakes, and Sharissa realized he was looking for a bow and quiver. There were at least three, but reaching them meant attracting the further attention of the waking horror.
With a hopeful smile on his face, the elf winked at her and took a step toward the mounts.
The dragon focused on him, growing more alert with each second.
“Go, elf!” urged Gerrod. “It will come for us soon enough! If the bow increases our odds, it will be worth it!”
As if the hooded Tezerenee’s words were its signal, the dragon broke through the wall, hissing as it struggled to drag its entire body through the gap it had made. Faunon rushed to the nearest bow and started removing it and the quiver from the shifting drake.
Sharissa knew that he would get only one shot off. She also knew that Faunon could have used his sorcerous abilities but feared that the repercussions, as he had hinted, might be worse than the attack. The sorceress, on the other hand, had no such qualms.
She raised her hand and repeated the spell she had cast on Lochivan.
Dust rose around the dragon. It roared, snapped at the particles flying about, and then shook its head.
A wild force struck Sharissa and sent her falling back. Gerrod only partly succeeded in stopping her fall. The hard earth jarred her and made it impossible to focus.
“It’s moving faster!” Gerrod roared. Through blurred eyes, she noticed his face strain with concentration, as if he sought to unleash a spell of his own despite his acknowledged aversion to the magic of this world. Behind them, the two sentries were shouting loudly, but she could not turn her head enough to see either them or Faunon.