Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,173

tangled hair. “Then we can see about doing something.” Sharissa started to speak, but was cut off. “No, on second thought, let us go elsewhere; too many Tezerenee here for my tastes.”

“I was going to go home. Sirvak said I should. He said—”

“Hush! Let us depart for your father’s wondrous castle of pearl, then, sweet Shari.” The smile broadened, smothering any doubts Sharissa still had. “You’ll have to do it, however. Your father lets no one in and I think Sirvak must be the same. So very distrustful.”

“Sirvak has no say in what I do,” the young Zeree commented defiantly. “If I want you with me, he’ll obey.”

Melenea stroked Sharissa’s hair again. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

VII

“COME, COME! I grow bored at this! How long will you dawdle there, little Dru?”

Dru did not answer him at first, still caught up in his thoughts. Day had given way to night—a night filled with stars and two moons!—and yet the sorcerer was only beginning to comprehend the patterns of the world around him. Unlike Barakas, he had never intended on charging into the phantom domain, uncaring of what obstacles might lay in the immigrants’ path. Dru knew that even with the tremendous abilities of the creature who floated beside him, there might be dangers too great to combat. His own powers, while they had returned, were unpredictable, even more so than they had of late been back in Nimth.

Shifting form again, Darkness once more tried to berate his companion into movement. Behind the blustery tones were undercurrents of fear and excitement. “You can protest all you want, little Dru, but I have brought you home! Even if you cannot remember it, I can!”

That was the other thing that kept Dru from moving on, the shadowy blot’s insistence that this was Nimth. Even after the sorcerer had given Darkness permission to search his memories again, the entity had argued that he had not made an error. Dru had decided not to push too hard; Darkness had an ego as great as his interior, the latter of which seemed to go on into infinity when the spellcaster stared long enough.

Somewhere along the way, Dru had chosen to think of the creature as male. Perhaps it was the deepness of the blot’s voice or perhaps it was the overbearing arrogance. In some ways, his companion reminded him of Barakas. Knowing that Darkness could pick up the thought, Dru had buried it deep. He suspected Darkness already knew how he felt about the patriarch of the dragon clan.

“I want to try something,” Dru finally said. “When I’m through, then we can move on for a short while.”

“What is a ‘while’?” Darkness pulsated. Despite the light of the two moons and the stars, the lands around them were barely visible. Darkness, however, was blacker than the night, so much so that he almost stood out as a beacon.

Dru knew better than to try to explain time to a creature who dwelled in a place that itself did not comprehend the concept. Instead, he concentrated on a tree before him and muttered a memory-jogging phrase.

The tree should have withered, should have dwindled to a dry husk and crumbled before his eyes. It did nothing, but a black death spread across the grass beneath the sorcerer’s feet. He leaped away, forgoing pride for safety.

“Good! Now we can depart!” Darkness rumbled, ignorant of the failure of the Vraad’s spell.

“Wait!”

“What is it now?”

Kneeling by the blackened, dead blades, Dru tried to inspect the damage in the dim illumination. As he had spoken the fanciful phrase, he had felt the familiar twinge as the essence of Nimth bowed to his overpowering will, but it had been checked by a fierce protesting force from the shrouded realm itself. The sorcerer touched the grass, only to have it disintegrate into a fine powder. Dru cleared his throat at the thought of what might have happened if he had remained standing on the spot.

This world will not bend to us so easily as the last, he concluded nervously. This was not just spell failure; this was a battle of wills, so to speak. He already knew that a second or even a third attempt would gain him the results he had intended, but that was only a pitifully tiny victory. Like Nimth, which had turned mad from the massive abuses of Vraad sorcery, the stronger the spell the more this domain would battle back.

Suddenly, a world-heavy weariness swept over the frustrated Dru. He slumped back,