NIGHT, SUCH AS it was, had come to Nimth. With it came the beginning of the end, as far as Gerrod was concerned. He had returned briefly to the Tezerenee stronghold, a vicious-looking iron building that; if Gerrod had been asked his opinion, reflected his clan’s personality perfectly. It was a toothy structure and cold to both the body and the soul. Wyverns and young dragons constantly flew among its dragon-head banners, while the elder beasts slept in their pens. Besides a nasty array of sorcerous defenses, more than a dozen riders generally patrolled the perimeter of the domain.
Not so now. The stronghold was abandoned forever, though it seemed at first glance that the inhabitants had every intention of coming back. Personal effects lay where their owners had last left them. Charts and books gathered dust. Some of the wyverns flew loose through parts of the edifice they would normally have shied away from. Food was left rotting. Even projects, such as those he and Rendel had been working on, were forever abandoned. The Tezerenee could take nothing with them.
It was Rendel’s notes Gerrod wanted. Rendel knew more than he did about the shrouded realm. Not all of it had been shared with his closest brother, though Gerrod doubted they had been as close as he had once supposed. You left me behind with the rest, brother dear. He only hoped that Rendel had also left behind his work. It was quite possible that his elder sibling had destroyed everything so as to keep that much longer whatever advantages he had uncovered in his research.
Fortune was with him. Not only were the notes he sought easy to locate, but they had been so meticulously organized that Gerrod found the proper sections within seconds. Evidently, Rendel was unconcerned about what these notes contained. They verified what he had read in Dru Zeree’s notes and added new information that the outsider had not known… or perhaps purposely ignored, dealing as they did with the region in which Melenea made her home. Gerrod allowed himself a quick, triumphant smile and closed the book. He knew that there were other notes, much more well hidden, but there was no time to search for those. What he had would suffice, anyway.
“So it is you.”
“Mother!” Gerrod turned on her, wondering desperately how she had been able to sneak up on him and also wondering if there were others behind her whom he also could not sense.
“I came back to see our home once more. Silly sentimentalism, isn’t it, my son?” The look on her face was unreadable, suggesting both mockery and truth.
“Some would not see it so,” he responded in neutral tones, hoping she would draw her own conclusions.
“The plan falls apart, Gerrod.”
He had suspected as much, but hearing it from the mouth of one of the few he trusted, the hooded Vraad shivered. “What happens now?”
Her smile held no humor in it, only bitter irony. “It would seem that the golems, not all of them but a great many, have vanished.”
“How many are left, Mother?” The noose he had felt tightening around his neck since his last confrontation with his father began to choke him.
“Barely enough for the clan. To assuage suspicions, Barakas has selected a few outsiders already.”
“And me?”
“For the moment, there is still a place for you. You know that much of the anger your father throws at you should rightfully be directed at Rendel?”
“I know.” Gerrod smiled darkly. Rendel was his mother’s favorite, but he saw no reason to hide his feelings of betrayal.
“You are your father’s sons in the end, Gerrod.”
“Speaking of dear Father-much as I’d like to avoid doing so-you may tell him that Melenea has the Zeree brat. It was not my fault; she must have been the one who instigated the girl’s departure in the first place.” Whether that was true or false, he could not say. What it would do, however, was steer some of the trouble from his shoulders to those of the enchantress. Perhaps even Reegan, Melenea’s toy, would feel some sort of backlash.
“Leave her, Gerrod. There’s no time to get her out. As it is, she probably would have been left behind, regardless.” There was a trace of regret in his mother’s face, but she was hardly willing to risk one of her offspring being left behind. Alcia despised Melenea as much as any being did, but there were higher priorities than the daughter of Dru. “I do not think Barakas will wait too much longer before he decides to finish the cross-over. Some of the outsiders have been raising a fuss. The coming has broken up.”
Gerrod rubbed his chin. “How long left?”
“By dawn, your father wants everyone over. He will be the last to go.”
“How brave.”
She gave him a silent reprimand. “I cannot promise he will hold a place for you even that long.”
“Then damn him, Mother!” He would have thrown the notebook, but recalled in time what vital information it held. “Perhaps I’m better off here!”
Lady Alcia wrapped her cloak about herself. In the flickering light, she looked as if she wore a shroud. “It may be so, my son.”
Gerrod found himself alone. Snarling, he buried the notebook in the deep confines of his own cloak and also departed, leaving the keep of the Tezerenee and possibly his own future to the whims of crippled Nimth.
WHERE IT HAD still been day in the tiny, hidden world Dru and his companion had discovered, it was now night. With the return to the ruined city, the sorcerer’s weariness and hunger had increased a hundredfold, as if being in that other place had held back time for a space. Dru found concentration impossible, despite the threat before him. This time, the spellcaster knew that there would be no second or even third wind; his body had reached its limitations. He prayed that Darkhorse was still fit, else the two were lost.
The Seekers were late in noticing the newcomers, concentrating as they had on their captive. The elf was the first to become aware of the tall figure astride the demonic steed and it was her inability to hide her shock that alerted the avians to their danger. In the pale light of the one full moon, Dru knew that he and his companion must appear fearsome, but appearances and reality often had little in common. He clutched Darkhorse’s mane tightly to keep from falling and whispered, “You have to deal with them! I… won’t be much use!”
The shadow steed’s laughter rang through the night, bouncing eerily throughout the skeleton of the once-mighty place. “They are hardly a matter of concern! Hold tight!”
“Don’t hurt the elf!” Dru added, suddenly fearful that the Seekers’ captive, possibly someone who might verify what the Vraad had guessed about the worlds within worlds, would perish in the course of the ebony stallion’s rampage.
“Is that what you called an elf? Have no fear! It has not made itself worthy of my caring attention yet!”
Dru shivered. His companion, growing more and more comfortable in his form and role, was also growing more frightening.
The avians scattered, two carrying the prisoner into the sky while she fought them tooth and nail, crying out words that Dru, holding on for dear life, could not understand. One Seeker foolishly held her ground, locating but fumbling with her medallion. Darkhorse ran through her. The sorcerer, pressed against the entity’s backside, caught a brief flash of a horrified visage… and then the female was no more.
“Ha! Let that-” The words never came. Dru heard a swish! and then he was being thrown into the air, his grip broken as easily as the sorcerer might have snapped a twig beneath his boots. He lacked the air to scream and so could only wait in silence for the ground to come up and shatter his body. His thoughts refused to go beyond his imminent destruction. The moons flashed by twice, a glimmering circle and a dim slash, one crimson and the other the pale of death, and their appearances remained fixed in his mind even as he noted that his descent was about to come to a very final finish.
No, said a voice within his head.
The earth was cheated of its prey. Dru felt everything freeze. Though his eyes were open, he could see nothing save the memories of the moons. It occurred to him that no sounds could be heard and he wondered what had become of the Seekers and Darkhorse.
No interference, came another familiar voice.
We are beyond that, added the third, almost eagerly.
We are, agreed the first. They have all come to this place. To not interfere is to allow all else to fail.
Dru could feel endless voices arguing for and against what the first being had said. Though the argument seemed to go on forever, the confused sorcerer knew that only seconds had likely passed when it drew to a conclusion. In the end, the first being’s opinion was upheld, but only barely.
That was the last he knew. The world, all worlds, ceased to be of any import to him.