Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,381

with intense light.

The hood protected his eyes for the most part, although annoying sprites danced about for several seconds before his constant blinking dispersed them. Gerrod blinked one last time and turned to see what changes he had wrought. He knew without having to look that the whisperers had vanished. Certainly they had at least stopped their infernal murmur.

For a short time, he could only stand there, wondering if perhaps he had transported himself somehow to another chamber.

There was a world beyond the walls. No matter which direction he looked, save for where the controlling crystals were, Gerrod gained the impression that he was now inside a glass room of sorts. The many facets of the crystalline walls distorted the images, but the warlock could easily make out hills to one side and a smattering of trees near them. If he turned halfway around, he saw more hills and a grassy field in which a small herd of what appeared to be wild horses grazed.

“Where is this place?” he muttered. “Where am I?”

As if in response, the world vanished, to be replaced by a view that—he narrowed his eyes and studied the landscape before him—that could only be his father’s Dragonrealm as seen from one of the moons!

“Serkadion Manee’s bones!” he whispered in awe. The ancient Vraad would have relished this sight. Gerrod had read some of the elder Zeree’s tomes, including one by the long-lost Manee himself. A vain soul, he had shared one thing with the sorcerer and Gerrod. A love of discovery, especially when it concerned knowledge.

“Sharissa!” he whispered to himself, so used to talking out loud for the mere sake of hearing another human voice. “I can use this to find her!”

And small good that will do you! the warlock thought in the next instant. How will knowing where she is help when you yourself are a prisoner here!

Where was here? He studied the vast display, taking into account the slight deviations due to the multitude of crystal faces that made up the image, and finally found what he sought. A tiny mark much like a dragon glowed near the outermost tip of the continent. It was a peninsula, as he had thought.

“And Sharissa Zeree?” It was a wild hope, but that was the only kind Gerrod knew of late.

As he feared, nothing happened.

“Perhaps if I picture her.” He thought it would be an impossible task, so rarely had he seen her in the past few years, but her face and form proved quite distinct from the moment Gerrod concentrated. Her flowing silver-blue hair, the perpetual smile that was caused by the peculiar yet haunting curve at each end of her mouth, the bright, inquisitive eyes that glittered so much more than those of other Vraad…

“Dragon’s blood!” The poetic touches to his thoughts were ousted before the truth of them became too much. He succeeded in keeping his imagination to the more mundane, picturing her as best he could and thinking location… location… in so adamant a way that the other, more private thoughts could not gain a foothold again.

The panoramic display before him clouded… and became a dark cavern so overwhelming that Gerrod forgot for a moment that he was not standing within it, but only viewing it from afar.

Better…

The cavern scene vanished as Gerrod’s sudden panic at the ghostly whisper in his mind made him think of escape. No new image replaced the old; the crystalline walls remained cloud-filled.

“Who is that?” he shouted.

There was no response; he had hardly expected one, but had tried nonetheless. He shook his head, thinking of the whisperers and how they still intruded in his thoughts even though they had vanished. His imagination was plaguing him, nothing more. Gerrod kept expecting to hear their voices, so it was not surprising that he should conjure one up now and then.

Satisfied that the voice was no more than his own musings, the warlock returned to the task at hand. Soon, the Quel would work themselves up enough to send one of their own in to retrieve him. He wanted progress before that time, either something to give to them to prove he was aiding their cause or enough knowledge that he could utilize this massive artifact to find and flee to Sharissa.

He returned to the controlling crystals and, with great respect, touched them. His thoughts on the young Zeree, Gerrod was not surprised when the clouds dwindled away and he found himself staring at the mouth of a cavern.

“Better,” Gerrod whispered,