After the meal, they chose to retire. Faunon volunteered the first watch, assuring her that, as an elf, he could rest while still remaining conscious of what was around them. When she gave him a threatening look, he promised that he would wake her when her time came. Sharissa did not want him trying to take on the entire task by himself. Faunon was as worn as she was.
Sharissa fell asleep almost before her head even touched the ground. The dream began in that same instant. It was a chaotic chase of sorts, with the weary sorceress trying to keep ahead of a dark, loathsome thing of mist that stared at her with a thousand eyes. She escaped her horrific pursuer only to walk into the open maw of a great dragon with Gerrod’s head upon it. Sharissa turned and fled from this monstrosity, only to hear the vicious laughter of the renegade guardian.
The chase went on and on, monsters and memories mixing in haphazard fashion.
When she jerked away, her first thoughts were of the relief of being freed of the endless cycle. Then she realized what had woken her and wondered whether or not the dreams might have been preferable.
“Nooooo! I am Tezerenee! Tezerenee is power!”
Faunon was already up and running toward the patriarch, who knelt against the tree and held himself so tight that Sharissa wondered if he thought he was going to come apart. His shouts became less and less coherent, reducing to the clan name and “power.”
Sharissa moved to his side and tried to get through to him. “Barakas! Listen to me! There’s nothing wrong! You’re safe here!” It occurred to her that he might be physically injured, but in the chaos no one had looked beyond his outward appearance. “Lord Barakas! What ails you? Tell me and I might be able to help!”
“Tezerenee… Powerrr…”
“I think he might be calming,” suggested Faunon. Barakas seemed to be slipping back into his catatonic state. She hated to see that, but it was better than his wild manner. The patriarch was strong enough to injure both of them.
The worried sorceress leaned closer. “Barakas?”
His movements were lightning, even against those of Faunon. Barakas shoved the two of them aside and, with an animalistic roar, ran for the deepest part of the forest.
“Stop him!” Sharissa cried.
“Too late,” her companion muttered, but he tried regardless. The two of them followed the dragonlord’s trail, trying to listen for the heavy footfalls that should have been so evident in the silence of night. Yet, the patriarch was as silent as a specter and faster, it seemed, than even the elf.
They gave up the chase only a few minutes later, forced to admit they could not even find his trail. For the elf, a creature of the woods, this was especially exasperating.
“It’s as if he floated off or simply vanished! I should be able find some trace!”
“Could he… could he have become like Lochivan?”
“Could we have missed a dragon?” he responded. “Better yet, could a dragon have missed us?”
She tried to scan the area, but the trees blocked what little light the moons were willing to give them. “He seemed frightened of something!”
“Likely he was reliving his disasters. That would be enough to shake anyone. He might even have been dreaming of the death of his mate.”
Tzee…
“Did you hear something?” she asked.
“Nothing. I am too worn to even listen. I am sorry, Sharissa, I truly am. If I could find his trail, I would keep going. The only thing I can say is that we could come back here in the morning and see if a trail reveals its secrets to us.”
Where might Barakas be by then? Faunon was correct, though. They stood no chance of finding the patriarch. She doubted the light would change things. Barakas was gone. Gone forever, the final victim, Sharissa hoped, of his ambition to create an empire.
The irony was, his legacy was an empire-and of the very creature he had raised up as the symbol of his clan.
They returned to their encampment and settled down again. Sleep was not so soon in coming this time, but when it did, Sharissa was thankful to find it deep and dreamless.
Tzee…
It was difficult to breathe. Sharissa rolled over, trying to ease the constriction in her lungs.
Tzee…
She thought it was a dream at first, but then it occurred to her that if it was, she should not have been thinking so. She should have been enmeshed in it.
Tzee…
Rolling onto her back, Sharissa opened her eyes.
Her nightmare stared back at her.
She screamed, and was not ashamed that she did. Anyone would have screamed at the dark, cloudy mass atop her, a mass from which countless eyes peered at her. A sound kept echoing in her head, a sound that originated, the terrified sorceress was certain, from the horror above her.
It was the scream that sent it fleeing. She heard Faunon’s voice as he shouted to her and watched in fear and amazement as the unnerving mass rose swiftly and fled into the deep woods. The elf chased after it, but it moved with the grace and daring of the fastest hawks and was gone even before he took a dozen steps.
All the while, Sharissa heard the same nonsensical sound in her head. Tzee… Tzee… The sound did not die away until long after the nightmare was over.
“Sharissa! Rheena, I will never forgive myself for being so stubborn! I broke my vow and tried to take the entire night’s watch! It… that thing… must have come just after I dozed off!”
The sun was just rising, but the Vraad barely noticed it. Though the creature, whatever it was, had fled, she could not help feeling that they were still not alone, that someone else was still watching them.
“I have never seen anything like that!” the elf exclaimed, holding her as much for his comfort as he was for hers. “It made a sound in my head-”
“‘Tzee,’” she said. “It kept repeating ‘Tzee.’”
“That was it!”
“Tezerenee?” Sharissa whispered to herself.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She cared not to think about it any longer. The possibility unnerved her more than the dragons had. She rose from the ground, allowing Faunon to aid her. There was still something not right. “Faunon, do you sense anything?”
His eyes narrowed, and he glanced about the area. “I had not given it much thought, not with that thing around, but… could it be it has not left after all?”
That might be the answer, but Sharissa could not accept it. This was something she had felt before, a familiar presence or presences. Not the guardians, but…
Stepping away from Faunon, the sorceress faced the seemingly empty woods. “Very well! You’ve been polite! You’ve not shocked me! I know you’re there now, so you might as well come out!”
“Who are you-” The elf forgot his question as several figures slowly emerged from the trees. There was no place they could have been hiding. One moment they had not been there, the next they were. A dozen at least, all wearing the same long, cowled robes and moving with the symmetry that only they could accomplish. One might have thought they were all of one single mind.
The not-people, the Faceless Ones as others had called them, circled the Vraad and her companion.
“Sharissa! Do they mean us any harm?”
“One never knows,” she answered truthfully. “I hope not.”
A wan smile touched his face. “Since I have met you, my Vraad, I have been in one constant state of disarray. I never know what to expect!”
“I’ve fared no better,” she admitted. One of the blank-visaged beings separated from the rest and stopped before her. “You’re here.” The sorceress tried to act as brave as she sounded. “What now? Why have you come?”
In answer, the long figure raised its left hand and pointed. They looked.