Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,145

the movement that it could not see. The storm was a thing forgotten. The creature put a hand to each side of its head, feeling for and finally locating the budding ears. Like a child, it became aware of yet other alterations in its form. Pale white hair sprouted with astonishing alacrity, lightly covering the body and richly overwhelming the top, back, and sides of the head. He was male, too, a fact that he had known always but could not have proven before this instant. The body itself grew until it was well over six feet in height and swelled as the rib cage expanded and muscles stretched into being.

As the torso transformed, so, too, did the blank countenance. A tiny protuberance rose near the center. Below it, a slit formed, first little more than a tear in the skin, but soon a gap that spread across the emerging visage. Above, two tiny folds twitched, the beginnings of eyes.

Through the thin-lipped mouth and the arrogantly curved nose, he breathed deeply, for the first time, the air of this land. A smile, with just a touch of self-congratulation imbued in it, curled into life. Teeth gleamed white.

The eyes opened, glittery, multihued orbs that saw everything and forgot nothing. For a time, they studied the eye of the storm, a black abyss that was no cloud but the remaining effect of his passage to this new world. Even as he watched, it began to recede, giving way to the heavens once more. He sighed in relief, pleased now where he had been in agony moments before.

Fully whole, Rendel gazed down at himself, assuring that all was in order. The smile broadened.

The chill wind, a last remnant of the storm he had helped cause, reminded him of his lack of protection. The smile died, replaced by a look of petulance with just a hint of confusion added. He gestured angrily at his form.

A dark suit of the finest scale, scale from the greater cousin to the hapless beasts above, wrapped him from neck to toe. A green cloak and hip-high boots completed the image of some majestic but frightful forest king. Rendel left the hood of the cloak back, enjoying the feel of the wind on his face. He laughed, his triumph, which he had begun to doubt more than once since his arrival, completely erasing the earlier pain and fear. That, of all things, pleased him most. To one who had suffered little in the areas of pain and fear before this day, such emotions were doubly strong.

The wind was dying down now. Rendel turned his gaze toward a distant chain of mountains. Among them, he spied a giant among giants, a peak that seemed to summon him.

Turning briefly to the field and the spot on which the golem had lain, the mage executed a low and somewhat sardonic bow. That done, he straightened and, without hesitation, walked off in the direction of the mountains. An arrogant smile dominated his features.

The wyverns watched him depart, now bunched together so tightly that they threatened the stability of their perches. Beyond them and hidden by the tall grass, something else watched the receding figure of the Vraad with deadly interest.

III

WITH RENDEL’S APPARENT success, Gerrod chose to speak no more concerning his conflicting desires. Dru knew better than to press him. There was enough to ponder and enough to worry about, and joining the other Vraad in the coming was proving a two-pronged decision. What Dru had learned so far only emphasized the need to continue his secret work, which even the Lord Tezerenee, with his multitude of prying eyes, had no knowledge of—he hoped. On the other hand, what Dru had learned also made that work seem superfluous, for what support would he get once Barakas announced to the others that he held the solution to their growing predicament?

Dru left the chamber by himself, Gerrod preferring to monitor the health of his brother’s body rather than join in their father’s encroaching triumph. The news would reach Barakas nonetheless; Gerrod evidently did not want to have to be the bearer, not after what he had confided earlier.

Walking was not a necessity in a city designed to supply its users with all comforts. Dru could have commanded the citadel to carry him along until he arrived at his destination or he could have teleported, but the tall Vraad cared for neither choice. A long, mind-calming trek through the myriad corridors and staircases of the structure