Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,385

As much as he appreciated the assistance of this fantastic being, something kept nagging at him, pushing him toward flight. Why? Here, he was safe from his father.

Yesss… safe here from everyone.

The warlock shifted. He disliked having his thoughts so easily taken. It reminded him too much of the Quel.

No! roared the voice. Let your mind stay open! Do not shield it! The sheer force that struck the Vraad nearly toppled him. He stumbled back, wrapping his protective cloak tighter around his body.

Possibly realizing that it had overstepped itself, the creature in the dark returned to the smoother, calming tones with which Gerrod was more comfortable. It is essential for your protection that you do not block me from your thoughts. I will not be able to aid you should you be assaulted unless I can be with you at all times. You understand that, don’t you?

It should not have made that much sense, but, for some reason, it did. Nodding, the warlock relaxed a bit. He was still concerned over many things, however.

“What will we do? How do you plan to rescue Sharissa?”

When the time comes, she herself will aid us. There will be confusion and fear among the armored ones. Trust that they will have too many other things to consider to keep their full attention on your female.

Sharissa Zeree was not his woman, but he could not bring himself to argue the fact, not when there were so many more immediate considerations with which to deal. “The Tezerenee are not weak; their combined might allowed them to cross a vast sea by magic alone. The dragon totem might be only a symbol, but it very well represents my father. He is the dragon, in many respects.”

His words only brought low, mocking laughter from the darksome dweller. Once more, there was a flash of burning eyes and the barely visible outline of some great beast. Each time, the being looked different, as if it experimented with its appearance, seeking the most fearful and imposing.

He is the dragon, as you say… and more so than either you or he or any of his people think! The laughter rose briefly again. Much more so!

Standing alone in the pitch-black chamber, his spectral companion still chuckling, a spark of reason pushed Gerrod to wondering if perhaps he had been better off with the Quel after all.

XVII

“WATCH HER!” BARAKAS roared to Reegan, his temper, for the moment, completely out of control. The patriarch turned on his own people. “Why do you stand around? Find the elf! Tezerenee blood is on his hands!” Nothing was mentioned concerning the elven blood on the clan’s hands, which might have given Faunon a good reason for anything he did to the dragon men.

“Do you want him alive?” Lochivan, his head turned away from his father, asked in his peculiar voice. To Sharissa, it seemed he was finding great interest in the stalactites or anything else other than the Lord Tezerenee.

The patriarch, too, did not even look at his son. The two of them might have been talking to other people. “Not necessarily.”

Sharissa leaned forward, her anger held back only by Reegan’s strong hands and the ever-present box that Lochivan presently carried. “Barakas! Don’t do—”

“Take this.” Lord Barakas pulled out a small object from a belt pouch. It looked like a small crystal to the struggling sorceress, but one that had been constructed, not formed by natural means. “Use it if you trap him in a chamber with no exit other than where you stand. Make certain that there is nothing of value in there first.”

Bowing his head, Lochivan took the sinister artifact. Barakas retrieved the box at the same time, securing it in one arm. He looked thoughtfully at the still form of Darkhorse, who met the gaze of the patriarch with his own baleful eyes. Sharissa still could not see how anyone, even the patriarch, could meet those ice-blue orbs and not turn away.

“And do you want me to deal with yet another irritation to you, dragon-lord?” Darkhorse dared to bellow. “It appears I must do all the work here! Of what use, then, are all these toy soldiers of yours?”

The barb struck as true as if a mortal blow from a sword. Barakas jerked back and quickly glared away any rebellious thoughts by his people. He was perspiring, something that Sharissa had rarely noticed him doing. Each time an event went awry, a little part of him seemed to vanish. The gray that she had