Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 2 - The Crimson Legion (39 page)

The two half-giants cried out in astonishment, but were not too stunned to jab their
lances at the mul. Rikus parried with the Scourge of Rkard and shattered the shafts before
they reached him. Hoping that a thrust would find more purchase in Hamanu's flesh than had
his first slash, the mul whipped his sword around and drove the tip at his foe's heart.
The sorcerer-king merely lifted his gaze from the fragmented obsidian globe and glared at
the attacking Tyrian.

As the blade neared Hamanu's body, the sorcerer-king's aura again flashed blue. The
Scourge drove through the magical barrier in a spray of hot sparksÑthen gave a loud twang
as it reached its target and stopped cold. The blade flexed like an archer's supple bow.

Rikus did not even see the sorcerer-king's counterstrike. He merely felt something hit his
jaw with the force of a half-giant's hammer. Everything went black, and the mul's knees
came perilously close to buckling. Hamanu struck again, and this time Rikus felt each
separate knuckle in the sorcerer-king's hand. The blow knocked him off his feet and sent
him sailing through the air, crashing into the half-giants whose spears he had severed.
Rikus dropped to the ground at their feet, as angry as he was frightened, certain that he
would soon feel their huge swords hacking him to pieces.

The blows did not come. Instead, as Rikus's vision began to clear, he heard a mighty groan
rumbling over the avenue. Near the wall, the battle raging between his gladiators and the
half-giants came to a halt. Terrified shrieks and astonished gasps filled the air.

Rikus looked in Hamanu's direction and cried out in shock. In the sorcerer-king's place
was a monstrous cross between Hamanu and a giant lion. Standing twice the height of a
half-giant, the creature had a powerful body covered in golden fur, a long tail ending in
a huge tuft, and the powerful rear legs of a great cat. The beast's arms resembled those
of a man, though the muscles were sinuous and the hands clawed. Around his neck hung a
long golden mane, and atop it sat Hamanu's head, his fang-filled mouth pushed out to form
a small muzzle.

The great man-lion waved off the half-giants that were looming over Rikus, then fixed his
golden eyes on the mul himself. “There is a difference between daring and insolence,” he
growled. “Now I shall exact the price one pays for confusing the two.”

Hamanu's Wrath

Hamanu stepped toward Rikus. The mul rose, swinging the Scourge in desperation. The blade
struck the great man-lion in the leg, bouncing off the thick hide with a muted thud.
Screaming in frustration, the gladiator lifted his sword again.

Before Rikus could strike, the sorcerer-king kneeled on top of the gladiator, forcing him
to the ground and pinning him in place.

Hamanu peered down at the mul's face, yellow beads of hot acid dripping from his fangs. He
touched the talon of one finger, as long and as sharp as any dagger, to Rikus's throat.
“Did you think I would be as easy to kill as that doddering fool who ruled Tyr?”

For the first time in his memory, Rikus felt utterly helpless. His life was completely in
Hamanu's hands. Pinned as he was, the mul could not even fight back and die honorably.

“I will teach you what happens to those who resist my will,” Hamanu continued.

The beast closed his hand around Rikus's throat and picked him up, at the same time
jamming the mul's sword arm to his side. The king muttered an incantation, then a yellow
web wrapped around Rikus so tightly that he could hardly breathe.

This time, the spell drained no life from the gladiator's body. Without the obsidian orb
that Rikus had smashed earlier, the sorcerer-king could not use dragon magic to draw his
energy from animals. Instead, the mul knew, Hamanu had to draw it from plants, as normal
sorcerers did. Still, Rikus doubted that the lack of dragon magic would seriously hamper
the ruler of Urik. The fields surrounding the city were well tended and full of crops that
Hamanu could tap for his spells.

Once Rikus was completely swaddled in the sticky web, the sorcerer-king carried him to the
fortress wall. There, he tied the cocoon to a merlon, leaving the mul to hang several
yards above the cobblestones.

In the street below, the battle between the Imperial Guard and the gladiators Gaanon had
boosted over the wall still raged. As the mul watched, Gaanon used his hammer to crack the
skull of a Urikite half-giant, while K'kriq sank his poisonous mandibles into another foe.

Rikus looked farther down the street. At the side gate leading into the slave pits, the
scene was not as encouraging. Hamanu's soldiers had driven the Tyrians back to the
threshold and were once again threatening to break through into the pens. Luckily Jaseela
had been given plenty of time to move the slave companies out of the pits and into the
templar quarter. Rikus couldn't see if any plumes of smoke were yet rising from distant
parts of the city, but he was encouraged by the fact that no Urikites seemed to be moving
to attack the noblewoman's companies. The mul dared to hope that, even if he could not
kill Hamanu, he had at least stalled the sorcerer-king long enough for the slave revolt to
take hold.

“It is my wish that you know the fate of those who followed you,” Hamanu said, glancing
over his shoulder toward the battle. “Those that you do not see me kill will be left as a
special gift for the Dragon.”

“Gift?” As Rikus asked the question, the cocoon cinched down on his ribs and did not
expand again.

Hamanu looked back to the mul. “Yes, in the Dragon's Nest, where you camped.”

“The Crater of Bones,” Rikus gasped. “You must leave many gifts for the Dragon.”

“Only our proper levy,” Hamanu said, a cruel smile crossing his lips.

“Levy?” the mul exclaimed. In his shock, he forgot about the cocoonÑuntil it compressed
again, and he had difficulty drawing his next breath.

The sorcerer-king trilled a laugh, his long red tongue wagging from between his fangs.
“The Dragon demands a slave levy from each city, or he will extract a terrible vengeanceÑ
as the pretender Tithian will discover when he fails to pay Tyr's allotment.”

From the sorcerer-king's amused expression, Rikus could tell that Hamanu enjoyed
tormenting him with this news. The mul endured the abuse willingly, for the longer he
detained Hamanu, the better the revolt's chances of success. “The Dragon will demand
slaves from Tyr?”

Hamanu narrowed his eyes and turned to leave, saying, “You have kept me long enough.”

Before the mul could ask anything more, the sorcerer-king strode toward the battle.
Immediately Rikus tried to pull his sword arm free, but the web held him so firmly that he
could not move so much as his little finger. The only result of his efforts was to
constrict the web around him more tightly.

In the street below, Hamanu waded into the company of gladiators that had followed Rikus
over the wall. Several of the Tyrians attacked with bone-tipped spears and obsidian
battle-axes. The spears broke against his hide, the axe heads shattered, and the beast
showed no sign that he even felt the blows. The sorcerer-king counterattacked savagely,
his long claws disemboweling warriors through their armor.

A stream of scarlet fire shot from the gate leading into the slave pens. Dozens of
half-giants and war-templars turned to ash in a mere instant. Once the flames were gone,
Neeva and Caelum charged out into the street.

“No! Go back!” Rikus cried, his heart pounding in fear. The cocoon constricted again,
filling his torso with painful cramps. “You can't stop him,” he finished weakly.

With the din of clanging weapons and screaming warriors, they did not hear him. The pair
turned toward the man-lion, followed closely by a handful of dwarves and a large company
of weary gladiators. Rikus watched in horror as Neeva dodged past a half-giant's lance and
knocked a few scales off his leg armor. As he reached for her, she found a seam between
the guard's massive thigh and his lower abdomen. She plunged her sword deep into the
crevice, drawing an immediate spray of blood.

A stooped half-elf stepped to Neeva's side, intercepting another half-giant who had come
forward to lance her. The gladiator beat down the Urikite's shaft, then thrust his barbed
lance under the shield to rip his opponent's knee to shreds. The half-giant had not even
finished collapsing to the ground before Neeva ran a blade across his throat.

Rikus continued his efforts to work his arm free, but to little avail. He succeeded in
moving the blade of his sword a fraction of inch and opened a small tear in the web. The
yellow strands only cinched down and pinned the mul's elbow more tightly against his belly.

Rikus cursed, then silently complained,
What am I supposed to do?

Watch your legion die,
Tamar replied.
What else?

Can't you help me?
the mul pleaded.
Summon the other champions, like you did in the Crater of Bona.

I could, but what good will that do? You would only attack Hamanu againÑand destroy us
both.

Near the entrance to the slave pens, the Tyrians formed a wedge with Neeva at the front.
They started forward, leaving a wake of corpses, gladiator and half-giant alike, behind
them.

In the midst of his revelry of death, Hamanu paused to look toward the sortie.

How touching,
Tamar observed wryly.
The fools will die trying to save you.

Not if I can help it,
Rikus said. He shook his head, the only pan of his body free to move, from side-to-side.
“Go back!” he cried, causing himself another wave of agony as the cocoon tightened.

The wedge continued forward, oblivious to the mul's command. The sorcerer-king pointed the
five claws of one hand toward the advancing Tyrians, uttering a spell. Bolts of energy
streaked from his fingers, each one arcing into the center of the wedge and burning a hole
into the chest of a different gladiator.

Instead of falling, the victims screamed and reached for then injuries, then broke
formation and began running about in all directions. As they moved, wisps of yellow smoke
poured from their wounds and spread throughout the company. Wherever the fumes passed,
gladiators gave strangled cries, then collapsed clutching their throats.

Hamanu looked away from the battle and returned his attention to the gladiators he had
been destroying before the wedge had formed.

Rikus closed his eyes, unable to bear the pain of watching Neeva die. He heard several
more choking warriors fall, then the Scourge brought Caelum's voice to him: “To the
ground!”

The mul opened his eyes in time to see Neeva and the other survivors do as the dwarf
asked. Once the others were out of the way, the men who had been struck by Hamanu's spell
fled the confines of the formation, not wishing to spread the deadly fumes among their
fellows.

Caelum thrust an arm toward the sun, and his hand began to glow. From his fingers issued a
shimmering mantle of blistering air, which spread outward and covered the gladiators like
a blanket. The mantle hung over their heads, the heat rising from it and carrying away the
deadly yellow fumes.

As the dwarf saved the lives of his companions, Rikus noticed that Gaanon was slipping
along the wall toward him.

Another fool,
Tamar commented.

He'll make it,
Rikus insisted, noting that Hamanu had shown no sign of seeing the large gladiator.
I'll soon be back in the fight.

For all the good that will do. It would be wiser to slip away unnoticed.

Abandon my legion?

It will perish with or without you.

After the smoke had cleared, Neeva returned to her feet at the head of a decimated
formation, with Caelum at her back and two dozen gladiators scattered among the bodies of
their fellows. Rikus guessed that three times as many half-giants remained between the
Tyrians and Hamanu.

Neeva stepped forward, carrying the attack to the throng of Urikites crowding the street.
The other survivors closed ranks behind her.

“What are you doing?” Rikus whispered, sadly shaking his head. “Can't you see your plan's
hopeless?”

The first of Hamanu's half-giants thrust his lance at Neeva. Screaming in anger, she
sidestepped it and slipped forward, driving her sword into her attacker's abdomen. As the
dying Urikite stumbled away, another stepped forward and pushed his lance into Neeva's
stomach.

“No!” Rikus hissed.

The stooped half-elf gladiator swung his lance at Neeva's attacker. The barbed head raked
across the Urikite's face, and the Imperial Guard fell away holding his eye. A moment
later, a long spear pierced the half-elf's throat. He died clutching at the shaft. Rikus
saw Neeva pull the shaft from her stomach and turn to attack the half-elf's killer, then
lost sight of her as the rest of the street erupted into a jumbled melee.

Rikus looked toward Gaanon. The half-giant had been forced to stop ten yards shy of the
fortress wall. Hamanu had all but eliminated the gladiators fighting him, and was now
unknowingly swinging his tail across Gaanon's route as he faced the last of the brave
Tyrians. One of the survivors was K'kriq, who stood with his carapace against the wall,
using all four hands to keep one of the sorcerer-king's claws away from his face.

All at once, the thri-kreen reversed tactics and clawed at his foe's arm, pulling it
toward him. As Hamanu's massive hand closed around K'kriq's throat, the mantis-warrior
stabbed at the sorcerer-king's wrist with his poisonous mandibles.

Hamanu roared in laughter. Holding his victim with one hand, he reached down and tore the
thri-kreen's shell away. As his pulpy white thorax was exposed, K'kriq screeched in pain.
The sorcerer-king studied the strange flesh for a moment, then began ripping it to shreds.

At the far end of the avenue, Jaseela led a company of Urikite slaves from a side gate,
and more slaves were emerging from other exits. Some carried swords, spears, bone clubs,
or other weapons they had scavenged from the templar quarter, but most were armed with
only hammers and rock picks.