Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,386

noticed in his hair seemed to be spreading, too, now that she took a closer look.

The others are suffering from some rash, but he suffers from aging! the Vraad sorceress marveled. He fears he’s losing control!

Many of the Tezerenee had already departed, and the patriarch’s last look had sent most of the rest running. Lochivan had been one of the quickest to depart. Only a handful of warriors, Reegan included, remained.

“You must be taught respect again, I see,” the clan master whispered, his voice cold. He reached for the box.

Darkhorse shivered at first, then his eyes narrowed as he steeled himself for the patriarch’s worst. “The one who truly needs to learn respect is you, lord drake!”

“You’ve not tasted all that this can do, demon. I think the time has come to truly reprimand you!”

“No, you won’t!” Sharissa focused on the patriarch and willed her power to the forefront.

The skin and armor of Lord Barakas crackled and wrinkled, but only a moment. He looked down at what she was doing to his form and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, the devastation to his body dwindled. The cracked skin healed itself and the armor resealed. His eyes were death as he looked up at her.

“Dragon’s oath, Sharissa!” Reegan muttered in her ear. He attached something cold and numbing to her throat. Sharissa felt as if a part of her had been torn away and knew that she had wasted her one chance to utilize her abilities. The Tezerenee had again nullified her. “You shouldn’t have done that, not at all! He let you wander loose only because he had other spells handy to keep you under control! Didn’t you ever wonder?”

She had not, and that might be proving fatal now.

“After I have punished this errant monstrosity, Lady Sharissa, I fear I will have to teach you your manners, also! I will regret that, but it will be necessary.”

He touched the box and turned expectantly to Darkhorse.

The shadow steed quivered, awaiting the pain. When he realized that nothing had happened, that he was apparently free of the box, he laughed loud. “Ohh, I have waited for this, dragonlord!”

He leaped at the startled patriarch.

For all his speed, the eternal could not reach the patriarch in time. Sharissa, struggling anew with a distraught Reegan, watched as Darkhorse slowed more and more the nearer he tried to get to his adversary. Barakas continued to draw swift patterns over the box, trying to regain some sort of control. At that moment, the best either could do was a stalemate.

A voice that sounded like Lochivan’s shouted, “Reegan, you half-wit! Forget her and help Father!”

The heir apparent obeyed instantly, the Tezerenee code of serving the clan master—set down by Barakas himself, of course—enough impetus to sway him. He shoved Sharissa back toward a pair of guards standing near the ancient effigies and started forward. The sorceress doubted he even had any idea what he could do.

One of her new watchdogs reached out to take hold of her, but another armored figure caught her arm first. Both Sharissa and the warrior looked up into the helmed countenance of Lochivan.

“I’ll take the Lady Sharissa. Help get aid. We may need my brothers and sisters.”

The two guards obeyed without question, as they had been trained to do, but the young woman eyed her companion with growing suspicion. Lochivan was moving without the pain of a few minutes before and his voice was smooth, much the way it had always been before recent events. It was almost like standing next to a ghost image from the past.

“This way,” he urged.

“What are you—”

“Do not argue.”

They were walking into the midst of the towering statues, Lochivan looking as if he wanted no one to follow them. Sharissa wanted to ask where they were going, but then she lost all interest in that as something new demanded her attention.

The statues were pulsating. Not randomly, but like a massive heartbeat. The sorceress glanced at the human and inhuman visages, fully expecting to see the mouths open and the eyes blink. They did nothing of the kind, yet she knew that life did indeed reside within those forms and that it had been stirred to action by someone.

“This will be good enough.” Lochivan came to a halt in a region that Sharissa saw was approximately the center of the area surrounded by the effigies. He seemed to be waiting anxiously for something to happen.

Something was happening, but not what he wanted. The magics of the