Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,406

pull him from his father, but Faunon, abandoning the riding drake, reached her first and pulled her away.

“Are you mad?”

“Let me go!” She struggled unsuccessfully in his grip.

“They will help their master!” He indicated the Tezerenee.

The warriors scurried toward the two struggling figures. Afraid of acciden-tally wounding their master, they sheathed their swords. Three pulled knives out.

Lochivan, still hissing, looked up as the closest man tried to grab his left arm. With astonishing speed and savageness, the patriarch’s son slashed out, ripping through armor and taking with it several layers of flesh. The warrior screamed and stumbled back, wounded but not out of it. Two more took hold of the abomination that had once been one of their lords and dragged him off of his father. Barakas quickly scrambled back. There was blood on him, but it was that of the unfortunate warrior.

“Secure him!” Gerrod, still maintaining his distance, called out. “He’s growing stronger by the—”

Lochivan tore one arm free and, before anyone could react, reached over and took hold of the man gripping his other arm. He swung the warrior around, knocking one of his other attackers to the ground, and then threw his victim to the ground headfirst. Sharissa turned away as she saw the Tezerenee’s neck snap backward as he struck the earth.

Two of the warriors tried to drag the unconscious one away, but Lochivan, never hesitating, turned and leaped at them. One who had his knife ready lunged and caught the misshapen figure on the shoulder where the armor had ripped apart. The blade dug into flesh, then snapped as it struck bone. Hissing, the bleeding Lochivan reached out and caught the man by the neck. When he pulled his taloned hand away a breath later, Lochivan carried part of the man’s throat. The Tezerenee was dead before his mutilated corpse even fell atop his unconscious fellow.

“We should leave!” Faunon whispered. “That thing is liable to kill us all at this rate! At the very least, you should leave! I can help fend it off for a time!”

Sharissa shook her head. She knew that Faunon meant well, that he was worried for her, not for him. “I have a better idea. Let me go.”

“So you can try to reason with him again? He is beyond listening now!”

“But Barakas isn’t!”

He frowned, but, seeing the look in her eyes, nodded. As soon as his grip lessened, Sharissa made her way to the patriarch, Faunon close at her heels. The elf, likely very thankful now that Barakas had given him a sword, kept himself between his Vraad and the beast in the circle.

“Barakas!” Sharissa reached the patriarch, who stood staring at his lost son and not moving at all. “Barakas! I can help you!”

That brought him back to the present. “What can you do, Lady Sharissa?”

She pointed at the collar. “There are only three here who have power enough to stop Lochivan! I know him! Let it be me!”

“Release you? You have no care for Lochivan, Sharissa! He betrayed you, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean I want him ending up like this! He may even kill all of us if you don’t!”

Barakas glanced at his son, who was trying to catch one of the four remaining adversaries unwary. The circle had moved so that the unconscious warrior was now safe, but not for long if even one more man fell.

“Very well.”

To her surprise, he simply reached over and gently removed the tiny band. “As simple as that?”

“Of course, but only I can do it.”

She whirled and faced Lochivan. In her mind’s sight, she saw the rainbow and the lines as only she of all the Vraad could see them. They were one and the same, only a matter of perceptions, but they represented the lifeforce, the power of this world. A force only she could, so far, manipulate to the necessary intensity.

Let my spell work! Let him not be too strong!

The battle had kicked up clouds of dust, and that was what she chose to use as the base of her containment spell. Faunon might think she would choose to kill the monster, but Sharissa could not do that. She was not a Tezerenee; she would imprison Lochivan if she could.

Lochivan, bloodlust evidently blocking all thought, did not notice how the dust settled thicker and thicker on his body. The Tezerenee did, however, and sought to take advantage. They were using their swords now that the clan master was safe. One of them thrust and caught Lochivan on the arm. He