Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,218

plummeted to the earth. It landed with a dull thud, a crumpled and twisted rag doll. Even from where he stood, the Lord Tezerenee could see that while it was avian, it was also humanoid. It had most certainly been spying on them, so he knew it was also intelligent. He wondered how long it—and likely others—had watched his people, all the while undetected. Though Barakas had appeared to know where the spy was, it had actually been a fluke; he had spotted a movement as he had surveyed that part of his new kingdom. No one would need to know that, however.

Pain abruptly wracked the hand from which he had directed his deadly spell. Barakas swore and rubbed at the sore spot. He felt as if part of his assault had backfired, though there was no method by which that could have happened so far as he knew.

“Lochivan!” His pain was assuaged a bit by the speed with which his son came once more to attention. “This is a hostile region! We have an enemy to confront! I want the immediate area cleared of any other spying eyes.”

“We dare not trust our power, Father. Already, three who attempted spells have been injured. There is something amiss with the magic of this world.”

Barakas released his injured hand as if nothing had happened to it. “I felt nothing. The spell worked as it should have.” That was not true; it had been his intention to capture whatever had lurked in the tree for interrogation or, if it had proven to be merely an animal, examination as a potential food or sport source. For some unfathomable reason, he had unleashed a spell more powerful by at least a hundredfold. “I have commanded; your duty is to obey.”

“Father.” Lochivan bowed and backed away. It was evident in his movements that he would have preferred the patriarch’s reprimand to such an impossible task. Yet, being Tezerenee, he would work to fulfill Barakas’s command, no matter what the cost.

The Lord Tezerenee gestured to two clan members who stood nearby, still stunned by what their master had done. With their helms on, he could not judge whether they were his children or merely relations. It did not matter as long as they performed their duties. “Bring that carcass to me. I want to know what our enemy is capable of.”

The Lady Alcia tried to bring the conversation back to Gerrod. “If you could only—”

She was cut off with an imperialistic wave of one gauntleted hand. “Gerrod is dead. Everyone back in Nimth is dead… or as good as dead. I will hear no more about them.” Anticipation tinged his next words. “We must prepare for our first battle. It will be glorious!”

As she watched her husband stalk off to oversee the disposal of the monstrous corpse, the matriarch frowned. Barakas had found new playmates, actual adversaries. There would be no turning him from the task he had set for himself now. The role of conqueror was at last his to claim. Gerrod was no more than a soon-to-be-forgotten memory, as far as the lord of the dragon clan was concerned.

Glancing at the limp bundle of flesh being dragged to the waiting patriarch and thinking of what other potential dangers the new world might yet offer, the Lady Tezerenee wondered if the clan itself would be such a memory before long.

“Perhaps it would be for the best,” she murmured, then strode off herself to help organize her people for the coming threat.

VRAAD AND ELF faced each other, eyes locked. Considering the speed with which she moved, Dru questioned his chances of unleashing a spell before the knife struck home. He also wondered what sort of sorcery she might have to back up her assault, for the stories had always hinted that to some extent the elfin race had had its share of potent spellcasters. Somehow, he could not see the knife as her only weapon; his Vraadish mind-set could not comprehend a foe who would take on a mage with only a small hand weapon. No one was that insane.

Another thing occurred to him as he readied himself for the worst. He knew time had passed, for the sun was bright in the sky. Yet Dru could not recall either sleeping or eating. He was, however, fully rested and not the least bit hungry. The sorcerer thanked the guardians for small favors; maybe they had wanted him to be at his best when he died.

“What did they