Knowing Gerrod as she did, Sharissa understood the futility of trying to argue him out of his decision. Yet, she tried to come to him again, wanting to at least bid him a proper farewell and thank him for all he had suffered for her sake. The warlock would have none of her thanks, though. When she took another step, he shook his head.
“No time! He grows weaker and weaker, and all of us should be gone before the dragons or something else finds us.”
At mention of him, Darkhorse steadied himself. He did not look at the hooded Tezerenee, but rather at those who were going.
“Where will you go, Gerrod?” Sharissa asked, wanting, at the very least, that much from him.
He would not give her that satisfaction, only saying to her, “I have an idea.” The warlock raised a hand in farewell. “Good luck to you, Sharissa. I shall always remember you and your father.”
“The time has come!” the eternal announced. “This will be our only chance, so prepare yourselves!”
Sharissa slipped her hand into Faunon’s and drew the silent Barakas to them with her other. She met the elf’s smile with one of her own, but then turned to stare at Gerrod one last time.
The warlock was already gone.
“Ger-” she started.
The world winked out of existence-and winked back in the next moment.
“We are here,” announced a very weary voice. “I’m sorry. This is the best I can do.”
“Where are we?” Sharissa did not recognize the region, but there were many parts of the other continent, too many parts, that she had no knowledge of.
Faunon looked up. “The sun has shifted greatly. More than a third of a day.” His tone spoke of his admiration for the eternal’s efforts. “We have traveled quite a distance!”
“This… this is the continent on which… on which your folk make their colony, Sharissa. I regret that I… I could not bring you there, but it is probably for the best. I have no desire to see them again.” He rose, his very form wavering in the light wind. “Now it is time for me to take my leave.”
“Not you too!” Was she to lose everyone now that she was almost home?
“I am sorry to leave you in these straits, but I am at my end. I must go, Sharissa.” The shadow steed dipped his head in his equivalent of a bow. “I must replenish myself, and that cannot be done in your world.”
“When will you be back?”
He almost did not answer, but, seeing her face, the eternal gave in. “Not, I think, in your lifetime. Not even in the lifetimes of your grandchildren, I suspect.”
Suddenly, the woods seemed a very dismal and dark place. “Father will be upset with you. You only just came back into his life.”
A stentorian sigh. “I will miss both of you. Give him my gratitude for his teaching and his friendship. I will treasure them both as I mend myself.”
“Will you return?”
“Someday. Good-bye.”
Sharissa blinked. Darkhorse was no longer there. She felt a sudden urgency and quickly reached for Faunon. “You won’t leave me now, will you?”
“Hardly. They would have to drag me away fighting.”
The Vraad sorceress restudied the lands around them, frowning. “I still don’t know where we are.” The wind blew her hair in her face. She pushed it aside and added, “We could be on the far side of the continent.”
Faunon squinted to the west. “There is a hill that stands out among the others in that direction. If we climb it, we should be able to see for mile upon mile.”
“Climb it?” Sharissa did not feel up to breathing, much less climbing.
“Walk to it and climb it. Both a must, I regret to say, my Vraad, unless you have the will and strength to teleport us there. I think my own reserves a little doubtful at the moment.”
Her heart was willing, but that was hardly sufficient. Sharissa shielded her eyes and studied the descending sun. As much as she wanted to be home, there were other things to consider-their helpless companion, for one. Barakas was even now simply standing and staring at his gauntleted hands-which were still covered in the blood of the transformed Lady Alcia.
That settled it for her. “I have a better idea. I think it best if perhaps we stayed here, rested the night, and proceeded in the morning. We can’t be very close to the colony or else I would have sensed something. Tomorrow, we’ll both be better. Besides,”-she indicated the patriarch. As he stared at his bloody fists, he continued to mumble his nearly incomprehensible litany. The sorceress wondered how long he would remain that way-“I’ve got to help him wash away that blood, if only for my sanity!”
Faunon accepted her judgment and volunteered to find wood for a fire and food for their much-abused stomachs. He pulled out the crystal that Gerrod had given to him. “Do you still have yours?”
“I do. I cupped it when the spell failed. I couldn’t bear facing Gerrod if I lost a second one.” Now she would never have to worry about that. The somber warlock was far, far away and would likely never return. She considered their present location. “There must be water around somewhere. That’s what we should look for first.”
They were in luck. A small stream lay only a short distance from where Darkhorse had brought them. It was little more than a thin trickle, but even that seemed overwhelming to the suddenly thirsty duo. Even Barakas found interest in drinking. Sharissa had hoped that the cool water would snap the patriarch back to his senses, but he merely wiped his mouth and sat down by the stream. The former clan master had not even removed his gloves, so detached was he from everything.
Some sun still remained. Faunon disappeared into the forest, moving with the speed and quiet Sharissa had always imagined his kind capable of. She, meanwhile, started the task of helping Lord Barakas clean his armor. Had anyone told her that she would someday be doing this, the tall woman would have laughed. Now, it seemed like the correct thing to do. The patriarch was little more than a baby at present.
Her efforts were more or less wasted. The blood had already stained and dried on his clothing. She was, at best, able to lessen the horrifying effect of his appearance, but anyone taking a closer look would see the telltale stain on the armor. Tomorrow, when her will was stronger, she would use sorcery to eliminate what remained.
Barakas noted her efforts in an almost casual manner, occasionally breaking from his mutterings, which now sounded like “Prrr…” and “Tze…,” and telling her, “They won’t come out. The blood’s seeped to my skin. It will never come out.”
After she had given up, he returned to his same somnambulant state. Sharissa finally brought him over to a tree and let him sit there with his back against the trunk. She then turned to attending to her own needs.
Darkness was now fast approaching, and Faunon was still not back. Sharissa understood how difficult his task might be, but she still began to worry. Even knowing she was here on the other continent, the sorceress feared that the night would somehow separate her from her last and most important companion. Barakas, in his present state, did not even count. She was alone, for all it mattered. Trying not to think of that, the Vraad began picking up fallen branches with which she could start a fire. Sharissa thought of creating one without wood, but even that effort seemed too much. Besides, she had always prided herself on not depending on her abilities when simple physical work was sufficient. To be any other way went against what her father had taught her.
At sundown, Faunon returned. He had wood to add to that which Sharissa had gathered from the nearby area and, most important, berries and a rabbit. She was thankful that he knew how to prepare it; the thought of having to cope with that after trying to wash the blood from Barakas almost made her ill.
The meal was sparse, but sufficient for their present needs. Sharissa gave the patriarch an equal share, which disappeared into his mouth in quick time. She had removed his helm, and so during the meal it proved impossible not to keep searching his face for some response, but the only thing he did when not muttering was screw his face up in thought again. She wondered what it was he was thinking about. There was a desperation in his eyes, that much she could see.