Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 2 - The Crimson Legion (34 page)

Rikus turned away without responding. “Now leaveÑ everyone,” he ordered. “Maetan and I
will talk alone.”

The others frowned and began to object, but Rikus was in no mood for arguments. “Do it,”
he ordered. “And don't come back until I call you.”

The time had come to kill the Urikite, and Rikus thought it would be safer if there was no
one else in the room when he attacked. Though Maetan had made it clear that he expected to
die, the mindbender had given no indication that he intended to offer up his life without
a fight. With the Scourge in his hand, the mul would have some defense against the
Urikite's mental attacks, but no one else had the benefit of such protection.

When everyone except Gaanon filed toward the doors, Rikus nodded to him. “You, too, my
friend.”

“But if he intends to attack youÑ”

“He'll do it whether or not you're holding him,” the mul said. “A mindbender doesn't need
his hands.”

As Gaanon reluctantly released Maetan and moved toward the exit, Tamar demanded,
Are you preparing to kill him?

Don't try to stop me,
Rikus warned.

Why would I want to? As long as he lives, he's an obstacle to recovering the book,
she answered.
But you'll need help, or he'll use the Way against you.

Help?

Open the robe,
she said.
I'll engage his mind. It will help if you can draw his attention to my ruby.

Once Gaanon had left the room, Maetan smiled confidently. “What did you wish to discuss in
private?”

“I have something that belongs to you,” Rikus said, opening his robe.

The mindbender made a sour face as he eyed the wound on Rikus's chest. Tamar's gem shined
so brightly that it cast a scarlet light over Maetan's face.

“What is that?” Maetan asked, gesturing at the glow.

“Umbra,” Rikus answered. “And I want you to take him back. He's so foul I can't keep him
locked inside any longer Ñhe's rotting my flesh from the inside out.”

A clever trick, Rikus,
Tamar cooed.

A black shadow began to swim through the light coming from the ruby. Maetan overcame his
revulsion and looked into the gem. “Umbra isn't foul, he's merelyÑ”

Tamar ended his sentence by making her attack.

She filled Rikus's mind with a vast plain of frothing yellow mud, stinking of sulfur and
tolling with the thick plop of bursting bubbles. From one of these bubbles emerged the
rear of a gross, many-legged thing with a ruby-red carapace of square scales. When it
dragged its head out of the mud, Rikus saw that it had Tamar's slitlike eyes and broad
lips. In its huge mandibles it clutched Maetan's struggling form.

Instantly Rikus willed himself into the picture. He wasted no energy by assuming any form
except his own, complete with the ulcerating sore on his chest. The only thing that was
different, as far as he could tell, was that Tamar's gem was not embedded in the wound.

Maetan turned toward him. “You ambushed me!” he snarled. “For that, you will die.”

The mindbender changed to the double-headed Serpent of Lubar. At the same time, the ground
changed from boiling mud to roiling black gas, and Rikus lost sight of the snake.

“Maetan!” the mul screamed, furious that his enemy had eluded him in his moment of victory.

A brilliant blue light rose from the Scourge of Rkard, and Rikus found himself standing a
short distance away from a massive arch of blue obsidian. Between him and the arch was a
sandy plain. Here and there, jagged, square-edged sheets of translucent green glass
protruded from the ground. There was no sign of either Maetan or Tamar.

“You said you wanted him!” the wraith's voice cried, echoing down from the clouds of the
black sky. “Come and get him.”

“Where are you?” the mul yelled.

The light cast by his sword suddenly narrowed to an intense beam that shone through the
arch. Rikus ran toward the blue landmark. Already, he was beginning to feel tired and he
had done nothing except project himself into the combat.

A half-dozen glass sheets slipped from their places and shot toward him, their sharp edges
turned horizontally so as to slice him into six different pieces from the knees to the
neck. Rikus barely had time to bring his sword up, then slashed down through the plates as
they approached him. They shattered into a hundred pieces, covering him with dozens of
painful cuts as they struck. For many moments, the bloodied shards hung in the air, then
fell upward toward the sky.

It was then that Rikus realized it took no effort at all to hold his sword with the blade
pointing upward. He was standing upside down, no matter that the terrain suggested
otherwise.

The mul threw his head toward the ground and his feet toward the ceiling. The icy world
dropped out from beneath him, and he fell an immense, immeasurable distance. The world
went black, then white again. Finally he landed in the yellow bubbling ooze, his legs
buried clear to his knees. There before him, where the blue arch had been a moment ago,
was the Serpent of Lubar. The fangs of one its massive mouths were sunk deeply into
Tamar's scaly carapace, and the second head was darting to and fro in search of an opening.

Pulling his feet free of the muck, Rikus waded toward the battle as fast as he could.
Tamar tore at the serpent with her mandibles, opening long rips that oozed foul black goo.
The snake coiled its body around her and squeezed. The wraith's red scales snapped and
cracked and splintered.

When he reached the battle, the mul raised his sword and brought it down on Maetan's
sinuous body. The magical blade sliced through the beast's scales, sinking deep into its
stringy flesh. The snake's second head hissed and turned to face the mul, then shot toward
him with its venomous fangs exposed- Rikus pulled the Scourge free and swung again.

The head stopped just short of the blade's arc. The mul brought his weapon around for a
thrust, but before he could strike the snake hissed at him. A blast of tepid air washed
over Rikus, filling his nostrils with the sour odor of bile.

The serpent and the wraith disappeared, then Rikus found himself in the great hall of the
mansion, expelled from the battle raging inside his own head. Before him stood Maetan's
motionless body, his gaze locked on the glowing ruby in the mul's chest.

Sensing his opportunity to finish the battle, the mul lifted his sword and swung it at the
mindbender. Maetan disappeared before his eyes. A sharp pain shot through the mul's ankle
as the invisible Urikite kicked him, then he felt his leg being swept from beneath him.
Rikus tried to shift his weight to the other foot, but Maetan pushed him over before he
could avoid the fall.

The mul crashed to the ash-smeared floor. As his battered body erupted into agony, the
Scourge of Rkard slipped from his grasp and went skittering across the floor.

Cursing himself for a softling, Rikus scrambled after the sword. As he moved, the floor
changed to a plain of boiling yellow mud, and he realized that he had been drawn back into
the battle in his mind. The Scourge's hilt disappeared into the muck, and the blade
followed an instant later.

“Fool!”

Rikus looked over his shoulder and saw the Serpent of Lubar slithering after him. The
viper carried its head off the ground, a forked tongue flickering from its mouth. It was
using the head at the far end of its body to drag Tamar along, though she had now taken
the form of a huge red bird and pecked at the snake with a needlelike beak.

Rikus looked away and started sweeping his hands through the mud, searching for the
Scourge. An instant later, four sharp fangs punctured his abdomen. He felt the sting of
venom tunning into his body as the serpent lifted him from the mud.

Realizing that he had no chance of defeating Maetan until he recovered his sword, the mul
decided to try something desperate. Once, while being transported from Urik to Tyr by the
slave merchant who had bought him from Lord Lubar, Rikus had killed a guard during an
ill-fated escape attempt. As punishment, the merchant had sent him into the mud-flats
surrounding an oasis of rancid water, telling him the death would be forgiven if he could
reach the far side.

Before Rikus had traveled fifty yards, a mouthful of sharp, barbed teeth had grabbed his
leg and dragged him beneath the surface. The mul had dived in after the beast and, blinded
and choked by mud, wrestled his attacker until he snapped its bullish neck. When he had
pulled it from the muck, he had found himself holding a ten-foot salamander with a ring of
featherlike scales around its neck and a half-dozen finlike feet along the course of its
body.

Hoping that the same senses that had allowed the creature to find him in the mudflat would
help him find his sword, Rikus summoned his stamina for a last stab at survival. He
imagined himself as that salamander. The energy rushed up from deep inside himself, then
he became a long, wriggling reptile.

He slipped from Maetan's grasp, leaving a mouthful of scales behind, and dropped into the
mud below. A pair of membranes closed over his eyes, and he found himself lost in a world
of slime, where there was no such thing as up or down, only forward or backward. As Rikus
used his finlike feet to push and pull himself through the thick mud, Maetan's poison
continued to burn through his body, clouding his mind and weakening his muscles with every
passing moment. Behind him, the serpent plunged its head into the mud, blindly snapping
its jaws in an effort to recapture him.

Rikus continued to swim, emitting a continuous series of high squeals. They bounced back
to the feathery scales around his bead, constructing something like a picture of the
terrain for his mind. It took him only a moment of whipping his head back and forth before
he located his lost sword, and he scrambled for it as fast his stubby legs would pull him.

When Rikus reached the Scourge, he placed a fin on its hilt, then cleared the image of the
salamander from his mind. Instantly he changed back to his own form-and found himself
blind and choking as he tried to breathe mud.

Ignoring the panic welling in his breast, he grabbed the sword and rose from the muck.

Behind him, the Serpent of Lubar hissed, and he knew it was striking. Rikus spun around,
lashing out with his weapon. The blade slipped between the snake's fangs and passed
cleanly through the back of the beast's mouth.

Lord Maetan of Family Lubar screamed.

Rikus found himself standing back in the mansion chamber just as Maetan's headless body
collapsed at his feet.

The mul sank
to
his knees and closed his eyes, bracing himself on his sword. The serpent's venom still
burned through his body, but he felt it now as profound exhaustion.

It is done,
Tamar said.
Now, you must go to Urik and find the book. I must know Borys's fate!

“I will recover the book,” Rikus said. “But not for you.”

The mul shook his head to clear it, but found his vision blurring. When he looked up, he
saw that Neeva and K'kriq had disobeyed his orders and were rushing into the room. Behind
them came Gaanon, Caelum, Jaseela, and Styan.

Rikus tried to stand, but collapsed back to his knees, too sick from the serpent's poison
and too fatigued from the battle to stand.

Neeva swept the mul off his feet. “We'd better get you back to bed,” she said, starting
for the back of the mansion.

“And bring CaelumÑa snake bit me,” the mul said. He clutched at her arm. “And if he lets
me dieÑ”

“He won't,” Neeva said sharply.

“Wait!” Styan called. “What about King Tithian? Shouldn't we warn him about what happened?
Hamanu may send some of his legions to attack Tyr.”

“The king can wait,” Gaanon said.

“No, put me in the chair,” Rikus gasped, smiling weakly. “Styan is right. We
must tell the king.”

Neeva frowned, but placed Rikus in the marble throne. The mul drew the olivine from the
pocket in his belt and looked into it. When Tithian's face appeared in the crystal, the
king's gaunt features were twisted in rage.

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“Killing Hamanu's messenger.”

“What?” Tithian shrieked. “You've doomed the entire dry!”

“Not at all, Mighty Tithian,” Rikus sneered. “Hamanu is going to be too busy defending
Urik to attack Tyr.”

“You wouldn't dare!” Tithian gasped. The sound reminded the mul of nothing so much as the
hissing of the Serpent of Lubar.

“I have no choiceÑit's my gladiators' only hope of survival,” Rikus said. “It's too bad
you didn't hire the slave tribe. A hundred extra warriors might have made the difference
between victory and defeat.”

Tithian's face fell. “Wait,” he said. “Don't you think
you
should talk this over with Agis and Sadira?”

“Give them my regards, but no,” Rikus replied. Relieved to hear that his friends had
returned safely to the city, he closed his fist over the gem and handed it to Neeva.
“Crush this. We won't be needing it again.”

Slave Gate

The tail of a whip popped over Rikus's shoulder. “Eyes down, boy!” commanded a snarling
voice.

Rikus lowered his head and trudged onward, cursing the gladiator's obvious delight in
berating his commander. Along with two dozen fellows, all wearing the tunics of Makla's
village garrison, the imposter was driving a small force of Tyrian gladiators toward
Urik's slave gate. This larger group was disguised in the tattered cloaks and bandages of
quarry slaves. On their backs, they carried heavy satchels of obsidian in which their
weapons were concealed.

In spite of the escort's command, Rikus kept his eyes raised enough to study the area
ahead. Urik's slave gate, like the rest of the city, was square and clean. It stood at the
end of a short causeway of rutted cobblestones, flanked by high walls plastered with lime
and stained yellow with sulfur paints from the Lake of Golden Dreams. Bas-reliefs of a
stylized lion, standing on two legs and carrying its foreclaws like hands, marched along
the ramparts in long lines. On one side, the lions left the gate with spears and swords,
and on the other they returned with booty plundered from distant cities. Blood-colored
merlons, each carved in the shape of a lion's head, capped the walls on both sides. From
between these battlements peered more than a hundred attentive archers, their squinting
eyes fixed firmly on the wretched throng of quarry slaves below.