heard, his sire’s was the only one solely of his imagination. The rest were very real.
He looked up and saw them—the faces in crystal.
They were everywhere, the faces, because, unlike the other chambers, there was nothing here but crystal. The floor, the ceiling, the walls—from tiny, indistinct specks to huge, horrifying demons, the faces were all about. They babbled on in a frantic manner, as if their very lives depended on his understanding them. Try as he might, Gerrod could not make out one true word. He strained to hear the whisperings of an ancient, balding seer and the harsh mutterings of a hooded fiend whose face refused to focus for him. Another, a young, amiable figure with a shock of silver hair amidst a field of brown, talked to him as if they were close friends. Even still, the warlock could not make out what the other was trying to convey, despite desperately wanting to understand one, any one, of the phantoms trapped in the crystals. He knew them now, knew them as well as he knew himself.
That was who they were. No matter how changed—and some were very, very changed—they were all Gerrod.
XII
SHARISSA HATED THE riding drakes. She hated their appearance, their attitude, and their smell. They could not compare to a horse. Yet, she had been forced to ride one these past two days. The beast was stupid, and it often grew sidetracked. Once it had even snapped at her for no reason whatsoever.
The patriarch listened to her complaints with the air of one tolerating a whining child. It made no difference whether or not she was having trouble with her mount; Tezerenee used drakes for riding, especially when it was always possible that they might be engaged in combat at any moment.
The force that journeyed to the mountains moved with caution. Teleportation was still a spell beyond most of the Tezerenee, and so they were forced to travel in a more mundane manner. The patriarch also distrusted the absence of the Seekers. Barakas might claim that the aerie was abandoned, but he apparently believed that there was risk enough that rushing into things might result in chaos. He had even brought along a very submissive Darkhorse, who turned his head every time Sharissa attempted to speak with the eternal. Darkhorse was ashamed of his actions, despite the fact that much of what he had done had been for her sake. The captive sorceress did not blame him for anything, but trying to tell him that was proving impossible.
Evening came at last. Barakas gave Reegan permission to give the signal to halt. The heir did so in a sullen mood; he still burned over his father’s decision to leave his mother in control of the burgeoning empire. Reegan had assumed that the patriarch’s being absent would allow him to exercise his long-overdue desire to rule. The heir had even argued with Barakas at some length, but the end had been inevitable. All that Reegan could do was sulk afterward, and he had done so with a determination almost admirable.
Sharissa was just descending from her troublesome steed when a familiar and unwanted voice rose behind her.
“Allow me to help you, Sharissa.”
“I can do without your help or your friendship, Lochivan!” she retorted, dismounting as she spoke.
He aided her nonetheless. “I understand your bitterness and I know that nothing I can do will make up for the wrongs you believe of me, but we will be together for quite some time—all our lives, in fact.”
“I thought is was Reegan the patriarch wanted me to marry, not you.”
A brief chuckle escaped him. “I might admit to having had some thoughts on the subject; I like to think that you might find me a bit more entertaining than my bullish brother. That was not what I meant, however. I merely refer to a fact that you must come to face before very long—that you are now and shall ever be a part of us. There is no going back.”
She tried to take her pack from the drake’s back, but Lochivan moved around her and took it before she could even touch it. “Only a body of water separates me from my father and the other Vraad. Either they will come for me or I will go to them.”
Lochivan signaled to another Tezerenee, who rushed over and took charge of the riding drake. That detail taken care of, the patriarch’s son started walking, Sharissa’s pack still under one arm. The slim woman