With the terrified screams of his companions echoing in his ears, Agis sliced his blade across the black tip of the bear’s snout. He saw a deep gash open in both nostrils, then felt his feet plunging into the dust. A gray cloud rose up to engulf him, and the beast roared again.
Agis’s ankle scraped down the side of a submerged stalagmite, sending sharp pain up his leg as it turned against the joint. Fearful of sinking past his head, the noble grasped at the rocky column with his free arm. He tried to inhale, and it seemed that he took in as much dust as air. Coughing violently, he swung his sword at the bear’s gullet. The blade clanged off the beast’s throat armor without penetrating.
“Kester, help!” Agis croaked.
No answer came.
“Nymos?”
The bear opened its maw and lowered its dripping mouth toward Agis’s head. He tried to fight it off with his sword, but the blade did no more than chip the thing’s yellow fangs. Wheezing down what he feared might be his last breath, the noble pinched his eyes shut, let his knees fold, and dropped into the dust. He pushed himself blindly forward, grasping at a stalagmite’s smooth stone with his free hand and kicking at the slippery floor with his feet.
With a ferocious snort, the bear thrust its huge maw after him. Agis felt a swell of displaced silt surge over his body, then a sharp tooth scraped along his ankle. He jerked the limb free, kicking madly with the other leg. His foot found purchase on the beast’s snout and sent him forward. The muffled scrape of tooth on stone rumbled through the dust, followed by the muted crack of a stalagmite being snapped off at the root.
Agis pushed himself another step forward and rose. His nose barely cleared the dust before the crown of his head touched the bony armor covering the bear’s underside. As soon as he opened his eyes, they were coated with silt and began to burn horribly, but he could still see well enough to make out what was happening around him. He turned to find a pair of bleeding nostrils sniffing at the dust where he had been standing a moment earlier. Beyond the beast’s muzzle lay a few shards of the shattered skiff that had gotten hung up on a stalagmite and failed to sink. The smashed bow had been ignited by the torch he had dropped earlier. By the light of its burning wood, he saw part of Nymos’s striped tail curled around the top of a stalagmite. The noble did not see any sign of Kester or Tithian.
A knot of remorse formed in the noble’s stomach. If the tarek had died, he would miss her. Even the thought of returning to Tyr without his prisoner sickened him. Assuming he managed to find the king’s body, it would be a poor substitute for the public trial he had promised to Neeva and the dwarves.
Determined to accomplish at least that much, Agis shuffled forward as fast as he dared. He moved his feet cautiously along the floor, feeling his way around sinkholes and submerged stalagmites, trying not to draw the bear’s attention back to himself. When he reached the shoulders, he took a deep breath and plunged the tip of his sword into the creature’s armpit, pushing upward with all his strength.
The blade sank to the hilt, and hot blood poured down Agis’s arm. The bear bellowed in fury and wrenched its head around, snapping at its attacker with slavering jaws. The noble ducked beneath the maw and, fearing the dying beast would collapse on top of him, dived forward. The bear’s paw sliced through the silt after him.
It caught Agis just as he passed the base of a thick stalagmite. The stone pillar snapped with a muffled thud, then the noble’s body erupted into pain, and his mouth opened to scream. He found himself choking as silt poured down his air passage. In the next instant, the bear’s paw lifted Agis out of the dust, flinging both him and the broken stalagmite across the cavern.
Agis crashed into the wall, then dropped back into the dust and sank like a stone. Fighting back black waves of unconsciousness, the noble tried to push himself upright. His feet slipped into a sinkhole, and he lashed out with his arms, hoping to catch hold of another stalagmite.
Instead, he found a burly leg. A pair of powerful hands slipped under his arms, then he was pulled out of the dust and spun around in one quick motion. Agis found himself grasped securely in the burly arms of a tarek, his back to her brawny chest and two large fists clasped together over his abdomen.
“Kester!” The name did not escape his lips, for his lungs were burning from the lack of air, and his throat was clogged with silt.
The tarek pulled the heels of her hands into the pit of Agis’s stomach, at the same time bearing down on his torso and sending bolts of agonizing pain through his battered ribs. The last few breaths of air in his chest rushed out of his mouth, carrying along the silt that had been obstructing his air passages. The noble coughed several times, wracking his body with more pain, before the breath returned to his lungs. With it came the terrible pain of the three deep gashes that the bear’s claws had opened along the side of his body. Agis could only imagine what would have happened to him if the beast had not been forced to tear a stalagmite out by its roots to reach him.
Once Kester allowed Agis to return to his own feet, he realized that he had been knocked a short distance down the passage. By the dim glow of the burning bow, he saw the bear’s huge silhouette a few yards away. The beast had collapsed on its stomach, its lifeless muzzle buried beneath the dust and its immense bulk blocking the exit to their small passage. So completely did the creature fill the grotto that only a few feet remained between its back and the ceiling.
“Sorry to let ye do all the fighting,” Kester said. Beneath the silt, her hand was still on the noble’s elbow. “But by the time I got myself out of the silt and cleared my lungs, ye were under the damned beast, and I didn’t want to startle it.”
“It was a remarkable battle,” said Tithian, moving into the light of the burning bow. The king, shorter than either Agis or Kester, barely managed to hold his chin above the silt.
“Where were you hiding during the fight?” Agis demanded. He winced as a fresh bolt of pain flashed through his body. “A little magic might have been helpful.”
“And interfere with such an artful display? Never,” Tithian replied. “I saw Rikus kill a half-dozen bears during his time in the arena, and not one of those kills was as clean as yours.”
Agis narrowed his eyes, but he saw no point in commenting on the king’s cowardice. Instead, he said, “Let’s get Nymos and go.”
“We can go,” said Tithian. “But there isn’t much of Nymos to take along.”
“What do you mean?” Agis asked.
Kester’s eyes grew sad, and she shook her head. “The bear’s first blow took us amidships, right where he was sitting.”
“If you want to bring him along, you’ll have to collect the pieces first,” Tithian added. He moved past the noble and picked the jozhal’s tail off the other side of a stalagmite, then offered it to Agis. “Personally, I don’t think it’s worth the time.”
“Let’s hope the dwarves are as kind to you as the bear was to Nymos,” Agis spat. The noble slapped Tithian’s hand away and turned to see if he could climb over the bear’s corpse.
It was then that he saw two huge eyes in the shadows between the bear’s spine and the cavern ceiling. “I’m afraid we have company,” the noble whispered. Of its own accord, his free hand dropped to his empty scabbard.
“So I see,” said Tithian. He was already reaching for his enchanted satchel.
Kester grabbed the plunging pole and stepped forward. “Mind yer own business, beasty!” she growled, thrusting the tip into the gap.
The eyes vanished, then a mighty groan rumbled through the cavern, and the bear’s carcass started to slide back into the larger passage, filling the air with billowing clouds of dust.
“Bad men!” growled a familiar voice. “Kill bear!”
The jaws of the three colleagues fell open, then Agis cried, “Fylo? Is that you?”
The bear stopped moving. “Me Fylo,” came the muffled reply. “So?”
“Do you know who this is?” Agis called.
“Bear killers,” the gi
ant returned, again tugging on the bear. “Fylo take you and throw you into Bay of Woe.”
“This is your friend, Agis.”
The pink-gleaming eyes appeared in the gap beneath the ceiling. “Agis? What you doing here?”
“Don’t answer that,” Tithian whispered, pulling a glass rod from his satchel.
Fylo’s eyes darted to the king’s form, then they narrowed angrily. “Tithian!”
The eyes disappeared. An instant later, a long arm shot over the bear’s back and tried to pluck Tithian from the dust channel. Kester quickly raised a dagger and jabbed it into a huge fingertip. Fylo’s muffled voice uttered an angry curse, then he pulled his hand away.
“You and I are supposed to be friends, Fylo!” Agis yelled. “Is this how friends treat each other?”
“Good,” Tithian murmured, fingering the glass rod in his hands. “Draw him out. All I need is one chance.”
Agis pushed the king’s hand down. “No.”
“Tithian not friend,” Fylo said, peering back over the bear. He had pulled the carcass far enough into the larger cavern so that he could push his entire head into the gap, albeit sideways. “And maybe Agis not friend, either. Why kill Fylo’s bear?” The giant’s cavernous nostrils twitched as he sniveled in remorse.
“If you’re my friend, why did you let your bear attack me?” Agis countered.
Fylo furrowed his sloped brow, then said, “Fylo didn’t know it was Agis.”
“And we didn’t know it was your bear,” Agis replied. “We were just minding our own business when it attacked. We had no choice except to defend ourselves.”
Fylo considered this for a moment, then said, “You invade bear’s den. Him just defending home.” The giant frowned and began to withdraw.
Before the giant’s face disappeared entirely, Kester quickly asked, “What are ye doing living with a bear, anyway?”
Fylo pushed his head forward again. This time, there was a proud smile on his lips. “Fylo becoming Saram—Bawan Nal’s own clan,” he explained. “But first, Fylo need new head—big one, since him full grown. So Fylo make friends with bear, ask him to trade heads.” As the giant came to this last part, a sad frown crept across his lips, then he groaned, “But now bear dead. Fylo not join Saram. Him have nowhere to go—again.”
The giant slumped down on the other side of the bear and fell silent.
Tithian came to Agis’s side. “We don’t have time for this,” he whispered, holding his glass rod up. “Get that dimwit to show himself again. I’ll take care of him so we can get on with our business.”
“I know you’ll find this hard to believe,” said Agis, “but I don’t betray my friends.”
Tithian shook his head in disbelief. “Pardon me,” he sneered. “I didn’t realize your taste in friends had become so bad—though I suppose I should have, given your penchant for the company of ex-slaves and dwarves.”
“I find it preferable to that of kings,” the noble replied coldly.
Tithian’s eyes flashed in anger. “That’s your choice, I suppose,” he said. “But if you’re not going to kill this dimwit, at least get rid of him so we can get on with our business.”
“I don’t think that would be wise,” said Agis. “In fact, I think it would be better if I talked with him for a while. Otherwise, he may decide that it’s his duty to report us to the Saram.”
“Which is why you should let me kill him!” whispered the king.
Ignoring the king, Agis waded forward and grabbed the bear’s ear, then used it to help him climb onto its shoulders. The effort sent daggers of pain shooting through his ribs, and blood began to ooze from the dust-caked wounds on his torso.
“Fylo, I’m sorry about killing your bear,” the noble said. In the flickering firelight spilling through the gap from the burning bow, the noble could barely make out the giant’s bulging eyes. “Is there anything we can do to make up the loss to you?”
The giant glumly shook his head. “No.”
“If you take the bear back to the castle later, maybe you can still trade heads with it,” he suggested.
Fylo looked up. “Bear too heavy for Fylo to carry.”
Tithian suddenly stepped over to the bear’s head. “Maybe I can help,” he said. “With my magic, I can lift it for you. It would be difficult, but I could do it—if you showed us the way through these caves and into the castle.”
The giant looked at the king as though he were mad. “Fylo can’t do that,” he said, shaking his head. “Caves don’t go into castle. They go down, under Bay of Woe.”
“What?” demanded Kester. “We heard there were caves inside the castle!”
The giant nodded. “Yes. Magic caves,” he said. “Very pretty, in different kinds of rock—not like these caves.”
“That’s it, then,” the tarek groaned. “We’ll never get my ship back.”
Agis breathed a silent sigh of relief. The noble wanted to get inside the citadel as much as Kester and the king, but he would not use his friend to achieve that goal. If Fylo helped them get inside and the Saram found out about it, the giant would certainly meet an unpleasant end.
Tithian kept his eyes fixed on the giant, then said, “That’s no trouble, Fylo. I don’t need to take the bear through the caves.”
“Don’t, Tithian,” Agis said. “I won’t allow it.”
The king smiled up at him. “Won’t allow what, Agis?” he asked. “All I’m saying is that I can take Fylo’s bear into the castle through the gate.”
“Really?” the giant asked, a hopeful light in his eyes.
“Yes,” the king replied.
The giant’s expression changed from hopeful to sad. He shook his head sadly, then said, “Bawan Nal say bear must volunteer to trade heads. If bear dead, him can’t volunteer.”
“Are you saying Nal expects you to lead a live bear into his castle?” asked Tithian, climbing up the beast’s snout to join Agis. He took a seat on the other shoulder blade. Kester remained below, shuffling through the silt in search of the valuable floater’s dome.
Fylo nodded. “Yes. Him say bear must come by itself.”
“And then what happens?” inquired the king.
“Magic. They cut bear’s head off, then they cut my head off, and we change,” said the giant. He lifted his chin proudly, then he added, “After that, Fylo beasthead.”
“I see,” said Tithian. “And you’ve seen this ceremony performed? You’ve actually seen a Saram let Nal chop his head off?”
Fylo frowned. “No.”
“So you haven’t seen him replace it with a beast’s head, either?” the king asked.
The giant shook his head. “No, not yet.”
“But of course you’re going to,” Tithian said. “I mean, before you let him chop your own head off.”
Fylo looked concerned. “Why you ask?”
“Don’t pay any attention to him, Fylo,” said Agis, disgusted by Tithian’s efficiency in planting such cruel doubts in the giant’s head. “All you have to do is find another bear, and I’m sure everything will be all right with the Saram.”
“Yes, I’m sure it will,” said Tithian, nodding a bit too eagerly. He looked at Agis, then said, “You know me. Always ready to think the worst—but if I were going to change my head for that of a beast, I’d want to see the ceremony performed on someone else first.”
“You think Bawan Nal tricking Fylo?” the giant roared.
“Don’t listen to him, Fylo,” Agis said, grabbing the king by the collar. “He’s trying to take advantage of you—”
“Not at all,” objected Tithian, patiently disengaging himself from the noble’s grasp. “I’m just trying to protect our friend. If I were Nal, I’d want to convince everyone that Fylo, as big and brave as he is, isn’t smart enough to be king. I’d make sure they knew it by playing a cruel joke—”
The word joke had hardly even left the king’s mouth before Fylo rolled onto his knees and, bellowing in rage, gave the bear an angry shove. Agi
s and Tithian threw themselves flat, clutching at its bony armor to keep from being scraped off its back.
“Fylo!” yelled Agis. “Stop!”
“No!” thundered the giant. He rolled away from the carcass and started to crawl into the larger cavern. “Fylo mad! Been tricked enough. Go kill Nal!”
“You can’t do that!” called Tithian. “He’s inside his castle—and he has too many warriors!”
“Not stop Fylo!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Fylo too strong and brave. Him chase Nal out of castle.”
As the giant disappeared into the darkness, the clatter of shifting rocks echoed through the huge cavern, punctuated by the occasional snap of one of the bones or timbers littering the floor of the chamber.
“See what you’ve done?” Agis growled, crawling toward the bear’s rear quarters. “You should have let me handle this my way—without lying or playing off his fears.”
“How was I to know he’d go mad?” countered the king. “Besides, can you be sure I’m wrong about Nal?”
The noble did not answer. Instead, he slid down the bear’s backside and onto the floor of the larger cavern. The silt here was no more than waist deep, though the sloping floor beneath seemed much more broken than had the one in the smaller passage.
“Fylo, wait!” Agis yelled, his voice echoing through the huge chamber. “How do you know Nal is tricking you?”
“Everybody always tease Fylo,” came the reply, well ahead and to the noble’s left.
“Not me,” Agis called, wading after the giant. He stumbled on a submerged rock, but caught himself before he fell. “I’ve always been honest with you, haven’t I?”
The echo of clattering stones fell silent, suggesting the giant had stopped crawling. “That true,” said Fylo. “You never play joke on Fylo.”
“Then maybe Nal isn’t, either,” said the noble. “If you attack him, you might be hurting someone who really is your friend. You won’t know until you test him.”
The Obsidian Oracle Page 14
