Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 5 - The Cerulean Storm (17 page)

“I wish I could hear that from them,” Neeva replied.

“Why?” her son asked. “Don't you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you,” Neeva answered. She glanced up at Caelum, then looked in her
son's red eyes. “But once we attack, we'll have to keep fighting. We won't be able to stop
and try again later.”

“I know,” answered Rkard. “The Dragon will try to kill me, just like I'm going to try to
kill him. So?”

Neeva smiled at her son's bravery. “So we can't make a mistake and assault too early. If
we don't have everything we need, he'll succeed, and you won't,” she said. “Let's check on
our friends, and hope the sun favors us all today.”

She tied her halter around her chest, then led the way over the butte's crest and started
down the shadowy hillside. In the valley below, the surviving companies of the Kledan
militia were ready to march, while the Tyrian legion, which had arrived late last night,
was just beginning to stir.

Neeva went to a small encampment at the bottom of the butte. Early morning shadows still
cloaked the site, but the sun's rays were slowly creeping across the valley floor. Soon
the camp would be bright with the orb's radiance.

Sadira lay next to a small fire of acrid-smelling cat-claw boughs, still unconscious and
as pale as moonlight. Magnus sat next to her, singing a soft song of healing. The
windsinger appeared only slightly more healthy than the sorceress, for his knobby hide was
crusted with dried blood and marred by large black bruises.

Rikus stood between two boulders at the edge of camp. He held Wyan in the one hand and his
sword in the other. The blade was still broken, ending in a jagged stub about two feet
from the hilt. But the gray stain had faded from its silvery steel, which now gleamed as
brightly as it had before the wraith tried to animate it.

“You're just in time.” The mul motioned for Neeva and her family to join him. “I was about
to try the Scourge. Wyan says it may not be ruined after all.”

“That would be welcome news,” Neeva said.

“What I said was that by healing the blade, Caelum
may
have saved it,” the head corrected, slowly twisting around to face Neeva. “I didn't tell
the oaf to bang it on a rock.”

“I don't see what we have to lose,” Rikus said. He placed Wyan on top of a boulder. “It
doesn't boost my hearing anymore, so the magic's probably gone. But there's only one way
to be sure: see if it still has the magic to cut rock.”

“Are you sure that's wise?” asked Caelum. “As I recall, it was a boulder that snapped the
sword in the first place.”

“Only because the wraith had tainted it,” Rikus replied. “Before that, I used it to cut
things harder than stone.”

Neeva motioned for Rikus to perform his test. “Go ahead.”

The mul faced the second boulder. The sun's light had just touched the rock, casting a
rosy glow over its brown surface. He swung, and his shortened sword struck with a
dissonant chime that made Magnus miss two notes in his song. Fearing the weapon would
snap, Neeva started to pull her son away, then the blade sank though the stone, trailing
wisps of black shadow. The sword did not stop cutting until it had cleaved through half
the thickness of the boulder.

Rikus scowled. “It doesn't cut like it used to,” he said, bracing a foot against the stone
as he pulled the sword out of it. “But it'll do.”

The mul returned the weapon to his scabbard, where the tip of the blade was still stored.

“Good,” said Rkard. He turned to his mother and asked, “So now we're going to Samarah,
right?”

“We'll see.” Neeva glanced toward Sadira. The rays of crimson sun were creeping up the
sorceress's legs, returning her flesh to the ebon hue it customarily assumed hi daylight.
“First we must see if Sadira awakens.”

“But we've got to go!” objected Rkard. “If we don't, I'll turn into a banshee, just like
Jo'orsh and Sa'ram.”

Neeva frowned. “What makes you think that?” she asked, squatting down so she could look
her son in the eyes. “Muls aren't like dwarves. They don't have to choose a life purpose.”

“But your son is no ordinary mul,” interrupted Wyan. The head fixed his sallow eyes on the
boy's face. “Rkard has a destiny, and who can tell what will become of him if he doesn't
fulfill it now?”

Caelum plucked the head up by his topknot. “Don't say such things to my son!” he yelled.
“You know nothing of his destiny!”

“I knew the Scourge still had its magic,” Wyan countered. “Perhaps I know other things as
well.”

“Then tell us,” Neeva commanded, drawing a dagger.

Wyan's cracked lips twisted into a sneer. “You know the answer,” he said. “That's why
you're so afraid.”

Rkard slipped forward and stood eye-to-eye with the head. “Nothing scares my mother!”

“You're wrong, brat!” snarled the head. “Your mother's paralyzed with fear. If she lets
you attack Borys, you'll be killed. But if she doesn't let you fight, you'll turn into a
banshee, more hideous than Sa'ram or Jo'orsh.” Wyan showed his gray teeth in a cruel
mockery of a smile. “What's a mother to do?”

Rkard took Neeva's hand. “I'm not afraid of the Dragon,” he said. “I'll kill him.”

“Of course you will-but not until the time's right.” Neeva turned him away from Wyan.
“Let's check on Sadira and see if the sun's awakened her. We could use some good tidings.”

They found the sorceress cradled in Magnus's arms. She was now completely bathed in
sunlight, and her skin was as black as ever. The sores and bruises that had marked her
body the previous evening were gone, and there were no other signs of injuries from her
battle with the wraiths. Still, her emberlike eyes did not burn with their usual
intensity, and she lay slumped in a limp heap, rubbing the Asticles signet between her
thumb and forefinger.

Motioning for Rkard to wait with his father, Neeva went to the sorceress's side. “Are you
well?”

Sadira's eyes flared back to life. She slipped Agis's ring back onto her finger, then
reached up and grasped Neeva's hand.

“I'm fine,” she said, pulling herself to her feet. “I wish I could say the same for
Agis-and for the rest of Tyr.”

“What do you mean?”

Sadira took a deep breath, then said, “Agis is dead.”

“It can't be!” Neeva gasped. “How could you know?”

“I know,” Sadira replied. “I had to fight my way out of the Gray, and the wraiths tried to
make me stay by using his spirit as a hostage.” Tiny streamers of black shadow began to
rise from the comers of the sorceress's eyes. “I destroyed them.”

“You can't be sure you were in the Gray,” said Caelum, coming to Neeva's side. “It could
have been a delusion-”

“Sadira was in the Gray, or it wouldn't have taken me so long to call her back.” Magnus
pushed his hulking mass to its feet. “And the wraiths are gone, or they would still be
attacking us. The only way she could have destroyed them was by fighting them in the Gray.”

“Agis is dead,” Sadira said. This time, she could not keep from crying as she spoke.

“I'm afraid so,” Magnus agreed. “That's the only explanation for seeing him there.”

Sadira began to sob, black shadow rising from between her blue lips in puffing billows.

Neeva wiped her own cheek, surprised to find tears running down it. During her days in the
arena, she had seen many friends die-some at her own hands, when the game promoters felt
particularly cruel-and she had thought all her tears were gone. The warrior was glad to
discover that some remained for Agis, the only noble she had ever called friend. She
touched her hand to her heart in the gladiator's traditional sign of farewell, then raised
it toward the east, where he had died.

When Neeva looked toward Rikus, she found the mul staring at the ground with glassy eyes.
His lips were quivering, and he was shaking his head as if he did not believe what Sadira
had said.

“Rikus,” Neeva said softly.

The mul looked up. “I thought Agis was too smart to die,” he said. “I didn't believe what
Patch said.”

“Neither did I,” Neeva said. “But we didn't have much chance to think about it.”

“Agis held everything together-the council, the relief farms, our house.” The mul stepped
past her, reaching for Sadira. “What are we going to do now?”

The sorceress pushed him away. “How do I know?” she yelled. “With Agis dead, what does it
matter?”

Caelum quickly slipped in between Sadira and Rikus. “Agis was a friend to us all, and
we'll miss him,” he said. “But he wouldn't want us to give up. We must consider what to do
next.”

Sadira shook her head angrily. “Haven't you been listening?” she demanded. “Agis is dead.
The only thing that will happen next is Tyr's destruction.”

“You may be overreacting, Sadira,” said Magnus. “I don't see how one man's death will
bring about the downfall of a city that's stood for a thousand years.”

“Don't you understand?” the sorceress asked. 'The Dragon knows we're coming. That's why he
sent the wraiths to kill me."

“And if Borys killed Agis, then you fear he's also stolen the Dark Lens,” Caelum concluded.

Neeva's stomach began to churn with a sick, hollow feeling. She could not quite believe
that Agis was dead, or that they had lost the Dark Lens before they had even seen it, and
something in the back of her mind told her it was not true. Then she remembered what Patch
had said: Agis died in the Bay of Woe-whatever that was- and Tithian stole the Dark Lens.

“I don't think Borys killed Agis,” Neeva said. She stepped over to Wyan and snatched the
head off the boulder. “Where did Agis die? What happened to the Dark Lens?”

“Agis fell in the giant islands,” the head answered, smirking cruelly at Sadira. “He and
Tithian stole the lens together, but only the king escaped alive. He's the one who sent
me.”

“Where'd you get Agis's ring?” Sadira demanded. She snatched Wyan from Neeva's hand and
held the Asticles signet in front of his nose.

Tithian gave it to me,“ Wyan said. ”He didn't think you would answer a summons from him,
so he wanted you to think Agis had sent me. He's waiting for you in Camarah-with the Dark
Lens."

Sadira's blue eyes flared and she stared at the head without speaking. Finally, she asked,
“How did Agis die?”

Wyan's long tongue licked his cracked lips. “The giants were warring over the lens,” he
said. “Agis fell in the final battle.”

“With Tithian's dagger in his back, no doubt!” Sadira hissed.

The sorceress pulled the Scourge from Rikus's scabbard and, in one swift motion, cleaved
Wyan in two. The head clattered to the stony ground, putrid brown slime seeping from the
two halves of the skull.

Rikus stomped on the yellowed bones, grinding them into powder. “He should never have used
Agis's ring to trick us,” the mul growled. “And when we catch Tithian, we'll do the same
to him as he did to Agis.”

Sadira did not answer, for she was staring at the Scourge's jagged blade with a slack jaw.
For a moment, Neeva did not understand the sorceress's surprise, then she recalled that
her friend had still been unconscious when the mul tested its magic earlier.

Finally, Sadira gave Rikus an accusatory glance. “It's broken!” she snapped. “What did you
do?”

“It's my fault,” Neeva said. “When the wraiths attacked you, I tried to use it against
them and tainted its magic. The blade snapped later, when Rikus had to deflect a boulder.”

“But there's still plenty of magic in it,” Rikus added quickly. “Caelum healed the blade
before all the black slime oozed out.”

“Black slime?” Sadira asked.

“Yes, it poured from the broken blade,” Caelum said, holding his hand out to the
sorceress. “This is what happened when I touched the stuff. We were hoping you'd know
something about it.”

The dwarf opened his fingers so that she could see the strange scales around the edge of
his hand, and the fanged maw in the center of his palm. The red lips began to work
immediately, twisting themselves into various shapes as the forked tongue wagged in the
thing's ebony throat.

“Release me,” the mouth hissed, wisps of black shadow slipping from between its white
teeth. “Come and free me.”

Still holding Rikus's broken sword, the sorceress leaned over and inspected the scales
around the edge of Caelum's hand. “This reminds me of what happens when someone suffers a
wound near the Pristine Tower.”

“Which means?” Neeva was growing more nervous about the fate of her husband's hand.

The sorceress fixed her emberlike eyes on the warrior. “That the magic is Rajaat's.”

With a sinking feeling, Neeva asked, “So you can't heal his hand?”

“It's not really a matter of healing,” Sadira said. “But it will be simple enough to
return the hand to normal.”

Neeva breathed a sigh of relief, though her husband seemed interested in things other than
getting rid of the mouth. “Why does it keep asking us to free it?” Caelum asked.

“If I'd been trapped inside a sword blade for a thousand years, I'd want out,” Rikus said.

Sadira shook her head. “The magic is not a spirit,” she said. “It is not intelligent”

“Then who keeps asking us to release him?” asked Magnus.

“I don't know,” Sadira replied. “It might be Rajaat.”

Neeva felt a knot of fear form in her stomach. “But his champions killed him a thousand
years ago!”

The sorceress shrugged. “We don't know that,” she said. “The
Book of the Kemalok Kings
says they rebelled. We assumed he was destroyed because the champions survived to become
sorcerer-kings. We could easily be mistaken.”

“Then it's too bad you destroyed Wyan,” said Caelum. “I suspect he would have known
Rajaat's fate.”

“All you would've heard from him are lies and half-truths,” said Neeva.

“Besides, I don't see how Rajaat's fate matters to us. If he's still alive, the
sorcerer-kings have him locked away someplace,” said Rikus. As he spoke, the mul kneeled
down and used a handful of dirt to scrub away the brown gore that had been Wyan's brain.
“Our worry now is Borys. It's clear enough from the wraith attack that he knows we're
coming for him.”