you speak of should tell you that. There is no honor in a wasted death. The guardian then spoke words that were intended for Dru alone. I fear you will have to watch this one after I and my kind have departed from your lives. Despite my efforts, I think he will not let the years pass in peace.
I could have told you that, Dru replied.
The Lord Tezerenee had quieted down, brooding over the mock dragon’s words. It was clear that the imposing presence before him was having its own effect, words or not. At last he nodded. “Yes. I bow to your wisdom.” The huge figure took on an air of humility and knelt. “Praise be to the Dragon of the Depths, who will guide us to our destiny!”
Around him, Dru watched in stunned amazement as the Tezerenee slowly followed the patriarch’s lead. The only two figures left standing were the sorcerer himself and Gerrod, who shook his head at his kin’s actions.
Dru Zeree, you must bring the two groups together. Can you do so?
I can only try.
The draconian head acknowledged his response by dipping low. Then, we move on.
And they did.
One moment, they had been gathered in the site of the Tezerenee’s near-last stand. In the next blink of an eye, Dru found himself standing amid the wooded area near the ghostly region leading to and from Nimth. On this side, the jagged landscape of Nimth penetrated the fields and forest, a spectral sore that the master mage hoped to soon never see again.
There were few other Vraad. Silesti and a handful of those he had designated his subordinates stood waiting. Lochivan was with them, looking quite harried. It was clear that they had been awaiting the return of Dru and Gerrod.
Gerrod had materialized a little behind Dru and behind the hooded Tezerenee were his assembled kin. Though they had been kneeling when the sudden transfer had taken place, the clan of the dragon now stood, save those injured too badly, of course. The instant he recognized his situation, Barakas stepped forward to stand beside his former ally.
Silesti noticed them and bristled at the sight of the patriarch. The other Vraad grouped around him. Lochivan stood as motionless as he could, not wanting something unpleasant to develop while he remained so near to the enemy.
It was up to Dru. He cut off both the patriarch and Silesti as each attempted to talk. “No more of this! Vengeance has never done us one bit of good! Silesti, we respect one another, but both of us have been responsible for things as terrible as what the Tezerenee have done! In their position, you might have acted as they did! True?”
He knew he had been correct when Silesti could not answer. Still, it was too soon to congratulate himself. They might yet be at one another’s throat. “This is a new world, both of you! This is not Nimth. This world will not let you destroy it without it trying to destroy you beforehand.” Dru played his final card, the one that would strike the two warring Vraad at the heart of what they believed in. “Look at the power of the guardians. They move us as easily as we might carry a handful of dirt. The peace is their one demand. Which of you is willing to disappoint them… and to explain yourself when they come to find out the reason why?”
Silesti’s swallow was audible. He had watched time and again as Vraad after Vraad were taken away to the guardians’ chosen destination. There was no denying the power of something that swept up groups of the sorcerous race without effort.
Across from him, Barakas, too, was having his second thoughts. As the one sentinel had said, the patriarch was one who would bear watching in the future. Now, however, he looked from Silesti to Dru and then back to where his people lay dead. He had seen how easily the dragon being had dealt with the avians and how simple it had been to take the surviving Tezerenee and displace them. Yet, the dream of conquest was not completely forgotten, not even now.
“I will not offer my friendship,” the patriarch finally replied. “But I will offer my cooperation. Silesti, it was never my intention to leave the rest of the Vraad race behind. However, it was the fault of my own blood, so I must take ultimate responsibility.”
It was as close to an apology as one might ever hear from