Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 4 - Obsidian Oracle (3 page)

To Agis's surprise, a broad smile crossed Fylo's lips. “Fylo like seeing games,” he said,
tightening his grip on the noble. “Fylo guess little man have brown eyes.”

With a sinking feeling, Agis turned his attention inward, replacing the mental effigy of
himself with the image of a rapacious dustgull. A surge of energy rose from the core of
his being to give the creature life, then the bird took on an existence of its own. It
became his harbinger, a construct of his thoughts, yet it was detached and able to
function outside his own head.

“Are you certain?” Agis asked, staring into the black depths of the giant's pupil. “Tou'd
better look closer and be sure.”

With that, the noble sent his harbinger to attack Fylo's mind. The bird streaked from
Agis's eyes into the giant's, disappearing into what lay beyond.

“What that?” Fylo demanded.

Agis did not answer, concentrating instead on the terrain he had discovered inside the
giant's mind. The region was gray and hazy, with half-formed thoughts whirling past like
the wild winds of a silt storm. Once, the noble glimpsed a giant's fist floating past,
blood spurting from between the fingers. Another time he saw a pair of human legs
protruding from a huge mouth, kicking madly as the victim was swallowed whole. As a master
of the Way, Agis had no trouble understanding the significance of the images: the giant
was considering ways to kill him. The noble had to take control quickly, before Fylo
turned one of the ideas into a plan of action.

A craggy island drifted into view, with the crisp detail and solid aspect of a memory.
Standing atop its sheer cliffs were six giants, all with humanlike faces. They were
hurling boulders off the precipice, shouting, “Go live with dwarf, ugly!” and “Stay 'way.
Fylo scare sheep!”

Agis turned his dustgull after the passing island. If he could seize command of the
memory, he could use it for his own ends and quickly force the giant to release him.

Outside, a blast of hot, fetid air rushed over the noble's face. “Take bird back!” boomed
the giant, squeezing so hard that Agis feared his ribs would snap.

Fylo's demand surprised the noble. As a seasoned practitioner of the Way, he was
well-versed at slipping into the thoughts of others. That the giant even understood that
his mind had been invaded suggested he had an innate talent, for there could be no doubt
that he was too dim-witted to have mastered the art through the normal avenues-rigorous
study and discipline.

“Don't kill me, or the bird will stay in your head,” Agis bluffed, barely able to gasp out
the words.

Fylo's grip did not grow any tighter, but neither did it slacken. “Stop, and Fylo not hurt
you.” The giant's voice seemed at once determined and a little anxious.

“Not until you let me go,” Agis countered.

Even as he spoke, the noble continued to guide his harbinger toward the island inside the
giant's mind. As soon as the dustgull's talons touched the rocky summit, the six giants
who had been hurling boulders over the cliff turned around. They launched a barrage of
rocks at the bird's featherless head, crying “Go 'way, ugly bird!”

Agis summoned more spiritual energy, and visualized his dustgull changing into a mekillot.
As the boulders began their descent, the bird grew a hundred times larger, its feathered
wings changing to a bony carapace and its hooked beak into a blunt-nosed snout full of
sharp teeth. The rocks struck the hulking lizard with a tremendous clatter, bouncing
harmlessly off its shell and disappearing over the cliff.

At first, the noble feared that his foe had taken control of the memories, but he soon
realized that they were acting on their own. Behind the six giants, a hairless rodent
crawled over the rocky edge of the cliff. The beast had squat legs ending in curled claws,
with loose folds of scaly hide and a ridge of bony plates protecting its back. Only the
head did not seem particularly vicious, for beneath its squarish ears were Fylo's bulging
eyes and wispy beard.

The rodent construct rushed Agis's mekillot, but two giants seized its tail as it passed,
bringing the beast to an instant halt. It straggled to continue forward, its curled daws
clattering on the stony ground.

“Fylo not make good tembo,” scoffed one of the giants, dragging the rodent backward. “His
face too ugly!”

Taking advantage of the distraction, Agis moved forward, away from the cliff edge. The
four giants who were not busy with Fylo charged. The noble stopped his harbinger, then
waited until they reached him before lashing out. He snagged one in his bill-shaped mouth
and, with a flick of the lizard's head, snapped the victim's back.

His attack did not even slow the other giants. The remaining three slammed into, the
mekillot's flank and shoved it toward the cliff edge, angrily shouting,
“Go
'way, stupid lizard!”

The noble tried to counter, dropping the crippled giant in his construct's mouth and
planting the beast's huge legs firmly on the rocky ground. He pushed back with all his
unimaginable strength, but the effort was to no avail. Slowly, inexorably, the giants
drove the behemoth toward the precipice.

On the other side of the rocky summit, Fylo was faring no better. The two giants that had
grasped his tail were dragging him away, laughing cruelly and saying, “Fylo too stupid to
be tembo-too weak!”

As his foes pushed him to within a few yards of the cliff edge, Agis visualized the top of
the crag turning to a dustsink, leaving only a narrow rim of rock around the outer edge. A
terrific swell of energy coursed through his body, then the stony ground of the summit
dissolved into a powdery muck. The memory giants cried out in surprise, as did Fylo, and
they all tried to leap for the solid ground ringing the pit. The agitation only caused the
surface to become even less firm, and they sank to their waists almost immediately.

Although the mekillot's stubby legs disappeared into the muck as quickly as those of the
giants, Agis was prepared for the surprise and began to change form instantly. His
construct's shell, already half-submerged, was replaced by oily black scales. The bulk
faded from his torso, until his body became slender and ribbonlike, with a wedge-shaped
head at one end and a ridge of spiked fins running along the serpentine spine.

As Fylo and the giants continued to sink, Agis's eel slithered across the dust to the
rocky rim, coiling up on the solid ground just in time to see the heads of his foes
vanishing into the mire. The noble allowed himself a deep sigh, confident that he had won
the battle. His efforts had tired him terribly, but he still had enough strength to take
control of the island.

Outside the giant's mind, a horrible groan rumbled through the canyon, then Fylo's grip
loosened, and Agis nearly slipped from his captor's grasp. The noble saved himself from a
long fall only by throwing his arms over the giant's trembling finger.

“Release me,” Agis said, looking into a bloodshot eye. “Now that I've captured one memory,
it's only a matter of time before I control your whole mind. All I have to do is shape the
island into your image, and-”

“No,” Fylo hissed, his lips quivering with fatigue.

“You can't win,” the noble said. “Losing a harbinger isn't so different from losing a
limb-save that it's spiritual energy instead of blood gushing from the wound. You can't
fight me any longer.”

“Fylo not done!” the giant roared.

Inside Fylo's head, the dustsink began to churn and froth. Agis slipped his eel over to
the edge of the pond. Never before had he seen a foe create a new mental guardian after
the first had been destroyed, but he feared Fylo was doing exactly that.

The noble summoned the energy to meet the attack, but it flowed slowly from his spiritual
nexus, for the battle so far had been a tiring one. Before he was ready to change the pool
back to stone, a pair of huge daws shot from the dust and locked onto his eel. Agis tried
to writhe free, but the more he struggled, the more deeply the pincers' barbs impaled him.
Finally, he stopped squirming and allowed himself to be lifted off the ground.

As Fylo's new construct crawled from the dustsink, Agis saw that it faintly resembled a
mammoth dune-crab. Instead of four eyestalks, however, only Fylo's head protruded from the
top of its biscuit-shaped shell.

“Agis lose,” proclaimed the crab, his pincers tightening on the noble's eel.

“Then we both lose!”

Agis whipped his head around and clasped his mouth on his captor's neck. As the barbed
pincers sliced through his body, his eel's teeth tore into the throat of Fylo's construct.
His mouth filled with the taste of blood, then his body exploded with pain. The sound of
his own screaming filled his ears and everything went white.

It took Agis several moments to realize that he had not died. Even then, he felt
disoriented and sick, unsure of whether he had returned to consciousness inside Fylo's
mind or outside it. His entire body ached with a fierce, stinging pain, and his stomach
ached with a queasy emptiness, as if part of it had been removed.

Slowly, as Agis regained his senses, he realized that he was lying in Fylo's open palm.
The nobleman rose to his knees, intending to run for his kank-until he realized that the
beast was far below. The giant's hand rested upon his mountainous knee, high above the
ground. Agis turned toward Fylo's face and found the giant's haggard eyes watching him.

“Fylo hurt,” the giant commented.

“Agis, too,” the noble admitted. “And we're going to keep hurting. It'll take days to
recover from our losses.”

Fylo groaned at the unwelcome news. “Then why Agis attack?” he asked.

“Because I must catch your friend Tithian.”

“Not Tith-”

Agis raised his hand to stop the giant. “There's no use pretending,” he said. “You know
I'm Agis of Asticles, and I know who hired you to kill me.”

The giant considered this point for a moment, then lifted Agis closer to his face. “Okay.
But Tithian not say kill Agis,” he said. “Only stop.”

“You can't expect me to believe that,” Agis scoffed, using the giant's thumb to steady
himself as he rose unsteadily to his feet. “The king's not the type to balk at murder.”

“Fylo tell truth,” said the giant. “Tithian say 'stop friend Agis, but don't hurt.
Protect!”

“Protect me from what?” Agis asked.

Fylo's demeanor suggested that he was being honest about his instructions, which only
puzzled the noble. Once before, when Agis had become involved in the rebellion against
Tyr's previous ruler, Tithian had used his influence to protect his old friend. But that
had been many years ago, before the noble had assumed leadership of the Council of
Advisors and become the king's most effective political enemy.

After considering Agis's question for a moment, the giant shrugged. “Fylo forget why
Tithian want you protected.”

“Fylo never knew, because Tithian didn't say,” Agis said. “He's not protecting me. He's
trying to keep me from catching him.”

“Only 'cause Tithian go dangerous place,” Fylo insisted.

Agis raised his brow at this comment. “What dangerous place?”

“Balic,” answered the giant. “Now you stay with Fylo till he come back?”

Tithian isn't coming back," said Agis.

“Tithian promise,” Fylo growled. The giant closed his ringers and grasped his captive
tightly. “And Fylo promise to keep Agis here.”

“It's right to want to keep your promise, but don't think Tithian will do the same,” said
Agis. “Whatever he offered you-”

“Fylo not for sale!” the giant boomed, squeezing Agis so hard that the air rushed from his
lungs. “Tithian friend!”

The heated response gave the noble pause. From the cruel comments floating around in
Fylo's memory, it seemed likely that the ugly fellow had led a lonely life. Tithian, as
adept at exploiting emotions as anyone Agis knew, had no doubt sensed this and cynically
extended his friendship to the lonesome giant.

“Once, I thought Tithian was my friend,” Agis said, laboring against Fylo's tight grip to
draw breath. “But ifs not true. Tithian has no friends.”

“Me!” bellowed the giant. “Fylo Tithian's friend.”

Agis shook his head. “No-Fylo is Tithian's pawn,” the noble said. “And after you've done
his will, he'll never trouble himself over you again.”

“Liar!” Fylo screamed. Tithian come back soon!"

“Poor Fylo. Your loneliness has blinded you,” Agis said. The noble gasped as his captor's
fist tightened, then he added, “I can prove what I say.”

Fylo relaxed his grip. “How?”

“I've known Tithian since we were boys,” Agis said. “I'll let you send your harbinger into
my mind, and you can see what he's like for yourself.”

“No,” the giant replied. “This trap to hurt Fylo.”

“We're both too tired for another thought-fight,” Agis said, shaking his head. “Besides,
by letting you inside my mind, I'm taking the greater risk. If you think it's a trap, all
you have to do is withdraw.”

As he spoke, Agis pictured a vast, deserted plaza inside his mind, trying to create an
open terrain where the giant would not be concerned about ambushes.

Fylo studied Agis for a moment, then the giant's harbinger appeared inside the noble's
mind. It had a flat, disk-shaped body that undulated like a cloth in the wind, with a long
tail that ended in a sharp point The thing's mouth was on the underside of its body, while
there were a dozen eyes spread along the rim of the top side.

Waving its flexible body like a pair of wings, Fylo's construct began to fly over the vast
plaza inside Agis's mind. “Where Tithian?” the harbinger demanded.

Agis summoned his memory of the king. A foul, brown liquid seeped up from between several
cobblestones. The stain formed itself into the shape of a man, then Tithian's gaunt visage
appeared on the head. The face was not so different from that of the feel Agis had created
earlier, with bony cheeks, a slender hooked nose, and a small puckered mouth. The eyes
were beady and brown, at once wary and probing.