Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 4 - Obsidian Oracle (10 page)

Tithian turned to Saanakal.
“I
thought you said we were doomed?”

“Our wizard's timing was remarkable-this time,” the high templar said, pointing over the
stern. “But when his good fortune runs out, so does ours.”

When Tithian looked in the direction Saanakal had indicated, a cold hand closed around his
heart. In the heat of the
Silt Lion's
exchange, he had lost track of the rest of the battle. Now, he found himself looking on in
horror as eight giants charged the
Wyvern.
Each carried a large battering ram in his hands.

The
Wyvern's
foredeck ballistae fired. One tree-sized lance lodged in the breast of a goat-headed
giant. Another harpoon pierced the scaly throat of a serpent-headed giant. Both attackers
fell immediately, vanishing into the silt as if they had never been there. The remaining
six hit the ship with their rams, opening great breaches in the hull and shaking the masts
with the force of the impact.

Dust poured through the holes in rivers, but the shipfloater continued to hold the
schooner aloft. Dozens of sailors rushed forward to thrust their lances at the giants,
while the catapult crews used their ladles to fling Balkan fire over the side.

Neither effort was to much avail, for the giants slapped the lances aside and easily
dodged the clumsy attempts to pelt them with flame. They pushed upward on the rams with
which they had punctured the hull. The schooner, still levitated by the shipfloater,
tipped easily. Men, catapults, cargo, and everything else not firmly attached to the decks
went tumbling into the silt. After the shipfloater and his dome fell away, the
Wyvern
itself settled into the dust.

When it was about three quarters buried, it touched bottom and stopped sinking. Survivors
immediately swarmed to the portion of hull still showing above the dust, but it was clear
they would not live much longer. As the
Silt Lion
sailed away from the wreck, the giants were using their rams like clubs to smash the hull
into tiny bits.

Tithian turned to Saanakal. “Cancel the order to flee toward the islands,” he said. “Tell
each ship to engage the giants at dose quarters. They're to move the vats of Balkan fire
to the gunnels and dump them over the side as the giants rip their ships.”

The high templar stared at him as if he were mad. “That's suicide!” he gasped. “Without a
ship-”

“The giants will sink our ships anyway. We may as well take as many of our enemies with us
as we can,” Tithian replied. He looked to the ship's mate and helmsman, then added, “Does
anyone else prefer a fighting death to that of a coward?”

The helmsman was the first to reply. “I will follow your orders, High One,” she said,
speaking to Saanakal. “But I prefer a fighting death.”

Several junior officers added their support, which only angered Saanakal. “Silence!” he
ordered. He switched his gaze back to Tithian. “King Andropinis commanded me to follow
your instructions, so I have yielded to your wishes up to now. But what you ask is
madness. I won't do it.”

“That would make you a mutineer,” responded Tithian. He allowed his hand to drift toward
his satchel, but did not put it inside.

“Refusing to squander my fleet is not mutiny,” countered the high templar.

“Your fleet will sink anyway,” Tithian said, stepping toward Saanakal. "What is there to
be afraid of?

Dying an honorable death?"

“There is always the hope-”

“Truly?” Tithian scoffed. He looked to Ictinis and asked, “How many ships remain?”

“Eleven,” answered the shipfloater. “No, now only ten.”

“Your schooners are sinking like stones, Navarch. The only men who stand a chance of
surviving are those who can cross the silt without a ship.” Tithian glanced at the young
officers crowding the quarterdeck, then asked, “Who would that be? Your sorcerers, your
shipfloaters, and perhaps your captains?”

The high templar's face darkened to an angry crimson, while bitter whispers of speculation
rustled through the gathering of officers.

“I'm sure you have a magic ring or talisman that will see you to a safe place,” Tithian
pressed. Although he did not know whether or not Saanakal actually possessed such an item,
it seemed a logical assumption-and that was what would matter to the crew. “Perhaps that's
why you don't want to fight at close quarters. When the ship sinks, you can escape. But
your magic won't save you if a giant grabs you.”

“One more word and I'll have you launched from a catapult!” the high templar hissed. “Now
return to the floater's pit and let me command the fleet!”

“So your crew can die while you escape?” Tithian replied, shaking his head. “No.”

“Take this passenger below,” Saanakal commanded, motioning for his first mate to obey the
order.

Before the man could step forward, Tithian stared him straight in the eye. “Andropinis
himself loaned me this fleet,” he said. “By refusing to obey me, Navarch Saanakal is
defying your king. Do you wish to join him in that?”

When the mate remained where he stood, the high templar cursed and reached for his dagger.
“Enough!”

“I don't think so,” said the first mate, grabbing Saanakal's wrist. “If I'm going to die,
then I will do it as I have lived-at King Andropinis's pleasure.”

With that, he handed the king's eye to the helms-man, then picked up the templar and
pitched him over the side. Screaming in fear, Saanakal thrust a hand into the pocket of
his robe. The dust swallowed him before he could withdraw the object hidden inside.

“Prepare yourselves to die like soldiers,” Tithian said, giving his crew an approving nod.
“And take us into battle.”

As the astonished officers obeyed, Tithian had his shipfloater relay his attack orders to
the surviving ships. Next, he took the king's eye from the helmsman and began to scan the
haze.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“My giant,” Tithian replied.

It did not take the king long to find what he was after. Within a few minutes, he saw
Fylo's ugly form leading an attack against another ship. The giants had already thrown
their boulders and were plowing forward through the silt, their rams cradled under their
arms.

As Tithian watched, the ship fired its catapults, put the wizard mistimed his command word
and dropped the flames behind the giants. Nevertheless, the king could see that the battle
was far from over.

Vats of Balkan fire were lined up all along the gunnel, ready to be dumped on the
attackers, and the ballista crews were holding their fire until the giants came closer.

Tithian gave the king's eye to a junior officer. “Which ship is that?”

“The
King's Lady,”
he replied.

“Good,” he said, pointing at Fylo's ugly face. “Do you see that giant?”

“The one whose head looks sort of human?”

“Yes. Keep us pointed toward him.” Tithian replied. Next, he turned to the shipfloater.
“Tell the
King's Lady
to hold her attacks. We're coming alongside and may be able to save her from this bunch.”

For the next few moments, Tithian watched in grim silence as the
Silt Lion
bore down on its targets. The giants were approaching the King's
Lady
cautiously, suspicious of the lack of resistance from the ship. Nevertheless, they were
close enough to hoist their rams and charge at any moment.

“Captain Saba asks permission to defend his ship,” reported the shipfloater.

“No!” Tithian spat.

“But we'll never get there in time,” objected the helmsman. “If they don't resist-”

“The
King's Lady
is sunk anyway!” snapped Tithian. “And I don't want anyone killing my giant-not yet”

Several of the ship's officers exchanged skeptical glances, then one ventured to ask, “Why
not?”

“He must be the one who set up this ambush, and I want to know why-before I deal a very
special punishment out to him,” the king answered. He looked back to Ictinis. “Tell
Captain Saba this: when the giants hit his ship, he'll be protected by the king of Tyr's
magic-but only if his counterattacks don't interfere.”

The shipfloater sent the message.

A moment later, Tithian and his officers watched as Fylo and his giants crashed into the
King's Lady.

Unhampered by any resistance from the ship, their charge hit with such force that it
ripped the foredeck off the rest of the ship. The ballistae discharged harmlessly and the
vats of Balkan fire toppled, instantly creating an inferno on the decks. Trailing long
tails of flame, sailors and dwarves leaped over the sides, their agonized screams falling
silent as they disappeared into the dust.

A burly man stepped toward Tithian, his silt-scarf hanging loosely around his neck. His
jaw was set, and his puffy cheeks were pale with the horror of what he had just witnessed.
“You said you'd save them!” he gasped.

“Come now,” Tithian replied. As he spoke, he turned his palm to the deck, using his body
to shield it from view as he drew the energy for a spell. “You heard me say that the
King's Lady
was lost. You knew I was lying to Captain Saba when I said I would protect him.”

“When I tossed Navarch Saanakal overboard, it seems I traded a coward for a liar,” growled
the first mate, stepping toward Tithian. “You said we were going to kill giants-not
protect yours!”

“This fleet has already killed more giants under me than it would have under Saanakal!”

With that, he collected a pinch of dust from the gunnel and threw it into the air. He
spoke his incantation, then the mate, officers, and the helmsman all dropped to the deck,
their eyes closed tight behind their dust-shields. Without a steady hand on the helm, the
ship veered toward the burning
King's Lady.

As the bowsprit of Tithian's schooner touched the blazing wreck, the ship's wizard leaped
off the bow. He flew a hundred yards in the direction of the island chain before a giant
swatted him down.

The jib sail of the
Silt Lion
burst into flames, and smoke began to roll over the main deck. Sailors and catapult slaves
alike cried out in alarm and looked up to see what was wrong, then the whole ship
shuddered as the bow crashed into the side of the
King's Lady.

Time to go," Tithian said.

The king drew the energy for another spell and used his magic to levitate himself. Taking
care to stay away from any giant that could bat him down, he drifted out over the stern.
Behind him, the
Silt Lion's
vats of Balican fire began to ignite, sending column after column of golden flame shooting
into the pearly sky. Within moments, the schooner's wreck could not be distinguished from
that of the
King's Lady.

Tithian quickly identified Fylo's distinctive form at the other end of the conflagration.
The giant stood near the detached bow of the
King's Lady,
the one piece of the ship that was not in flames, laughing in childish delight as he used
a yardarm to knock the last few survivors off the upended hull.

Tithian drifted forward through the smoke and haze. At the same time, the king took the
precaution of withdrawing a small glass rod from his satchel, but he did not fully prepare
the spell that would turn it into a lightning bolt. Until he learned how Fylo had come to
be a part of this ambush, and what had happened to Agis, he had no intention of killing
the giant.

Tithian stopped just out of Fylo's reach. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, yelling
to make himself heard across the distance.

The giant stepped away from the wreck, raising his yardarm to swing at the king. “Traitor!”

Tithian dodged back. The huge club sank into the silt with a muffled whump, raising a
curtain of pearly dust.

“Why are you attacking your friend?” the king asked, resisting the urge to cast his spell.

Fylo narrowed his eyes, gauging the distance to his target, then shrugged and turned back
to the bow of the
King's Lady.
“Tithian liar, not friend,” he said, using his yardarm to push a dwarf into the silt.
“Agis real friend.”

“What does Agis have to do with this?” Tithian asked. He felt both relieved and angry, for
the giant's comment implied that he had released the noble and not killed him. “You
promised to guard him!”

“Make promise before Agis show real Tithian to Fylo,” said the giant. “Then we go to
Balic, and Agis tell Fylo about fleet going to Lybdos. He say 'Warn giants. Maybe they let
Fylo live with them.” The half-breed brought his pole down on a templar, crushing the man
like a beetle. “Him right. Now Fylo can live on Lybdos-with beasthead friends.”

Tithian could not contain himself. “What makes you think anyone could tolerate a hideous
moron like you?”

His eyes bugging out in anger, Fylo threw his yardarm at Tithian. The king tried to dodge,
but the pole glanced off his shoulder, sending a terrible ache shooting down his arm and
knocking the glass rod from his hand. He plummeted toward the sea, barely regaining
control of his body in time to prevent himself from plunging into the dust. Fylo was on
him instantly, grasping Tithian tightly in his massive fingers and preventing the king
from reaching into his satchel for another spell component.

“Agis like Fylo!” the giant snarled. “Beastheads like Fylo!”

Tithian shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry,” he said. “But Agis is just using you. So are
the beastheads. When all this is done, they'll send you away. Fylo will be alone, just
like before.”

“No!” Despite the retort, the giant looked crestfallen.

“Yes,” Tithian insisted. “I'm the only one who could like you. Everyone else thinks you're
ugly.”

Fylo shook his head. “Tithian liar! Tithian do terrible things to his friends in Kled.”

“Did Agis tell you that?” Tithian asked, continuing his ploy. “I guess it shouldn't
surprise me. He's been jealous of me ever since I became king. But what really hurts,
Fylo, is knowing you believe him.”

The giant looked surprised. “It does?”

Tithian nodded. “More than you can know,” he said. “One has so few friends when he's a
king. I thought that you and I...” He let the sentence trail off, then lowered his eyes.