Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,152

truth was that unlike his multitude of obedient relations, the young Tezerenee had no desire to live in a world formed by his progenitor’s continually growing religious fervor. As a matter of fact, he had no desire to live anywhere his father lived, dragon spirit or not.

Ephraim, his armor hanging oddly loose on his body, finally rose from the center of the pentagram etched in the earth. Gerrod frowned impatiently. He had stood here for nearly twenty minutes, far too long for a respectful wait. That was one of the problems. Among his own clan, he felt out of place, unnecessary except as an assistant to Rendel. This despite all the work that he had done.

“What is it you want?”

The voice was horribly dead of any emotion, something terribly alien in the violent Tezerenee. Gerrod studied his cousin before answering. Ephraim’s face was pale and gaunt, hardly the heavy, weather-beaten figure who had come here only three days ago. There was also a faraway look in his eyes that chilled Gerrod.

“Did you feel it when Rendel took over the first golem?”

“Yes. It was painful for him.” Ephraim’s eyes would not meet his but insisted on staring beyond the hooded Tezerenee’s shoulder.

“You’ve made changes, then?”

“We have.”

“How soon can you begin on the others?”

“We have nearly a dozen completed.” The pale face broke into a thin, satisfied smile.

“Already?” Gerrod was taken aback. Small wonder that his cousin was so pale, if they were already hard at work on the hosts for the Vraad ka.

“There seemed no reason to wait. It’s quite… entertaining.” The ghostly smile remained fixed, as if forgotten by its bearer.

This was news Gerrod knew he would have to take to his father personally. He could ill afford to hesitate with this, despite his lack of desire for the cross-over’s success. Not just the jump on creation of the golems, but the effort being put in by the group. If Ephraim was any indication, the strain must be terrible. Barakas would have him punished if something went wrong and it could be proved that Gerrod had been at fault.

“You’ll need help. Father will send others to replace those who cannot go on.”

“No!” A white, cold hand reached out and snared one of Gerrod’s wrists. “We will not falter! This is our calling!”

The eyes of his cousin blazed bright. Gerrod peeled his hand free. Ephraim’s gaze finally met his own. It was not one the hooded Vraad cared to stare into for very long.

“As you wish, Ephraim. If you need anything, though, you must—”

The other interrupted in the same monotone voice he had utilized earlier. “Do you know that it should be possible to take a portion of a ka and keep it after the one to whom it belongs has died? We’ve discussed it, the others and I. No one would truly ever be dead, then. They could be called up, using golems for temporary form, and made to—”

“What are you talking about?”

Ephraim quieted. “Nothing. We have found that we only need a part of our selves now and so we talk. The strain lessens with each one. Perhaps we are adapting to the Dragonrealm.”

Gerrod had heard more than enough. The strain might be lessening, but it had evidently already driven the group mad if its leader was any example. He doubted that his sire would send anyone to spell the group until they began dying. Why waste any more? If Ephraim and the others lived long enough to complete their task, that was all that his father would want.

He wrapped the shroudlike cloak about himself, once more becoming more of a shadow than a man. Ephraim took a step away. Gerrod hesitated, then said, “I will inform Father of your success and your confidence concerning your ability to continue.”

“That would be good.”

Perhaps they will die when no one is around to see, Gerrod thought. If only there was another way than Father’s, I would… He curled within himself, feeling, as he had the last couple of times, a curious hesitation, as if the teleportation spell did not wish to work. It did, however, and he gratefully left his cousin and the others.

Ephraim, for his part, waited until Gerrod had left. Then, he silently returned to the center of the pentagram. The others looked up in unison, and had anybody watched them then, it would have seemed that they were one mind with eleven bodies… a mind that was no longer Tezerenee.

DRU LOOKED OVER the information his crystals had gathered