Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,356

made the young sorceress’s eyes dart to Faunon and quickly back again. At mention of the caverns, he had become lost in thought, as if making some connection that she could not. Once Lochivan left, perhaps she could—

“I am afraid that I must terminate your conversation with the prisoner,” the armored figure said at that moment. “You will be given another chance to speak with him, I think. For now, I would prefer that you be where I can guard you better.”

“Me? It was one of your people that suffered—”

“And he came for you. It may be that you are seen as a risk to whoever is responsible. I want nothing to happen to you, Sharissa.” Lochivan’s tone softened toward the end.

She wanted to argue, but the outcome would be the same regardless. Behind the Tezerenee, Faunon indicated that she should agree. Too much protest and they might change their minds about allowing her to talk to him again.

“Very well.” It was doubtful that sleep would be so easily forthcoming. “Let me escort you back.”

“That will not be necessary.” She did not want him touching her.

“You will be safer. This may not be an isolated incident.”

As before, there could be only one outcome. Conceding defeat, she nodded and gave him her hand.

“You have… have my gratitude as… as well,” Faunon commented as the Tezerenee was about to lead her out. “How fortunate that you were so nearby.”

Meaning that Lochivan had either been spying on them or had been waiting for Sharissa to leave the wagon. The Tezerenee glanced her way, but did not return the elf’s comment. He did, however, lead the slim woman out of the wagon much more swiftly than necessary.

Outside, several Tezerenee were still moving about. Two moved to clean the debris that had once been the door. Sharissa looked for signs of the sentries’ bodies, but they had already been cleared away. She felt some pity for them, but not quite as much as she would have for the elves their kind had slaughtered weeks ago. Much of what the Tezerenee suffered they had brought upon themselves.

Only two days from the citadel and this had occurred. As she and Lochivan walked away from the carnage in silence, Sharissa wondered what the coming days had planned.

Somehow, she felt it would only be worse.

XIII

“SHE SLEEPS, SIRE.”

“Good.” They stood in his tent, the three of them. He used the tent as his base of operations, which was why he felt justified in having it when the rest of his warriors slept outside. The patriarch was only partly clad in armor, it having taken him longer than normal to dress. He found it a bit disturbing, but laid aside that minor annoyance in the face of the outrageous incident with the abomination.

Reegan, fully clad and more than a little angry at the loss of sleep, asked, “What did you do with its carcass, Lochivan?”

His brother, still kneeling, replied, “It is being buried discreetly. Father, the monster is none other than one of our own. Reegan, you know of Ivor?”

“It was Ivor?”

One of our own, the Lord Tezerenee wondered. They have struck down one of our own in the very midst of my camp and despite my precautions! The entire area had been carefully laced with defensive spells. He had always eschewed such things in the past, preferring to rely on the readiness of him and his people, but of late he had not moved as swiftly as before and his clan appeared more hesitant than they had during their first days here.

“Three other men died. All adopted outsiders.”

A small loss, but a loss nonetheless. Some of the other Vraad who had joined his clan would be growing nervous. The patriarch needed things to stay on course in order to assuage their fears. The expedition would have to be more alert than they had been.

“What happened to him? What sort of change?”

Lochivan bowed his head. “I do not know. It was suggested that the Seekers might have done this.”

“Suggested by whom? The elf?” Reegan sneered. “Of course he’d blame them! He’s covering for his—”

“Reegan, be silent!” The patriarch tugged at his beard and mulled over the possibilities. “If it was the elf or his friends, I imagine they could do just as well if he were rescued. They would not leave him to our mercy. Tell me, Lochivan, does he seem like the suicidal sort?”

“He’s a warrior, father, and willing to risk himself, but I think this would be asking too