Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,282

Rayke continued to stare after their departed intruder. “Where do you suppose he went?”

“East. Straight east.”

Rayke grimaced. “There’s nothing that way.”

“Maybe he plans to go on straight to the sea… or beyond it.”

“Maybe.” The other elf’s eyes widened. “Do you suppose he had something to do with the death of these Sheekas?”

It was a thought that had not occurred to Faunon, and he had to credit Rayke for the concept. “I don’t know. We may never know.”

“I’d be happy with that. Let’s get back to the others, Faunon. Let’s get away from here before it decides to come back!”

There was no argument over that. They had discovered all that there was to discover—unless something else ran past them—and it would be dark before long. Faunon generally had no fear of the dark, but, after this encounter, he had a growing desire to be back among his fellows where there was the comfort of numbers.

As they hurried through the woods, moving nearly as silently as the shadow steed had, a nagging feeling grew in Faunon’s head. He was not one for signs and omens, being one of the newer generation of more practical elves, but he could not shake the sensation that the creature he had faced was yet one more hint of something vast to come, a change in the land as he and his people knew it. If the Sheekas were truly nearing the end of their reign, as the Quel had before them, then someone would come to displace them. The land had seen such change time and again, though the elves had never been part of that cycle, merely onlookers.

Ducking under a low branch, Faunon grew more troubled as his thoughts progressed. The Sheekas and even the Quel had been predictable creatures; the elves knew where they stood with those two races. Who was to say that the same would hold with their successors? Who would their successors be? There were no other races that could claim dominance.

There was little to justify his fears, but he believed in them nonetheless. As they neared the spot where the others were to meet them, Faunon discovered that he was, for the first time, hoping for the continued survival of the arrogant avians. The elves knew how to coexist with them, if no more than that. The next masters might feel that there was no need for his race to continue on.

They had escaped such a fate once before, when, legend had it, they had discovered the path that freed them of the horrors of the twisted world of Nimth and its lords, the sorcerous race called the Vraad. At least that was one threat that the elves no longer had to fear, Faunon decided, drawing what little comfort he could from that.

Nothing the future held could ever match the cruelty of the Vraad.

II

THE COLONY HAD lasted for fifteen years now. This world did not bow to their will as the last had and, far more important, they no longer had the strength to back their arrogant desires. Now they were often forced to do things by hand that they once would have scoffed at performing so. It was a long, frustrating fall from godhood for the Vraad, for they had, back in dying Nimth, been born to their roles. They had escaped to this world from the one they had ruined with little more than their skins and had discovered too late that, for many, Vraad sorcery would not work here the way it had before… at least not without terrible effort and more than a little chance of the results being other than what they had sought.

Yet, for all they had succeeded in accomplishing during those fifteen long years, there were many who still could not accept that the godlike days of yesteryear were at an end. They had once moved mountains, quite literally, and some were determined that they would do so again—whatever the cost. Thus, those that had some success with their spells ignored the side effects and consequences.

Lord Barakas, patriarch of the Tezerenee, the clan of the dragon, was one. He had come to this world with the intention to rule it, not be ruled by it. Even now, as he and two of his sons sat in silent contemplation of the sight before them, the dreams of what might have been and what might still be filled his thoughts nigh on to overflowing.

He stared west, utilizing the tallest hill in the region so as