Rikus jumped to his feet and started up the rugged slope. He had taken only three steps when a long chain of yellow runes squirmed off the great arch and streaked down to the mound’s crest. They struck with boom after thunderous boom, and the entire summit seemed to explode into shards of basalt and plumes of acrid smoke. The mul covered his head and waited for the eruption to pass. When the choking haze thinned, he saw thirteen obsidian statues standing on top of the ridge. They had round, featureless heads with no faces, and their arms ended in fan-shaped blades.
The statues came lumbering down the slope with plunging, stiff-legged strides that sent loose rocks skittering down the hill before them. As the golems came nearer, Rikus saw a single, yellow flame twinkling in the dark breast of each one.
“What’s that racket?” called Tithian. He was still hanging on the cliff and could not look over the top to see the approaching golems.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Rikus answered. “But watch your head. There might be some falling rocks.”
Rikus drew the Scourge and waited, deciding that he could use the cliff to good advantage against the clumsy statues. The four golems in the center reached him first, slashing at his neck. The mul ducked and counterattacked, bringing his blade through the breasts of all four attackers. The enchanted steel cut through the obsidian like flesh. As the sword sliced through the yellow flame inside each golem’s breast, the statues burst into shards, opening more than a dozen deep slashes along the mul’s side.
Rikus hardly noticed the cuts, except as a warning to be more careful about how he destroyed the other statues. He had not suffered any crippling wounds when these golems exploded, but he might not be so lucky next time.
The mul turned and charged one flank of the golems’ line. He ducked the flailing arms of the first statue, then counterattacked with a series of vicious slashes that took the legs off both it and the next one in line. The third golem stooped over to slash at Rikus’s legs, anticipating that he would duck again. The mul leaped over its head and sent it tumbling over the cliff with a stomp-kick to the back. He found himself descending straight into the thrashing blades of the fourth golem.
Rikus flipped his blade around and drove it straight down to the thing’s yellow heart. It exploded as the others had, but the shards sprayed out horizontally, and the mul suffered no cuts as he came down before the last statue. This one split its attacks, one arm slicing low and the other high. Rikus leaped back and waited for the appendages to cross, then darted forward and sliced them both off at the elbows. The thing threw itself at him. Rikus grabbed a stump and sidestepped, bracing a foot against its ankle. When he pivoted, the golem’s own momentum carried it over the cliff.
As it shattered on the stones below, Rikus faced the last four golems and found them forming a semicircle above him. The mul backed to the edge of the cliff and braced himself. The dark statues closed ranks and rushed, their hands slashing high, low, and through all points in between. Rikus parried for a moment, lopping off a couple of obsidian hands, then stepped back and dropped off the precipice.
As he fell, Rikus drove the tip of the Scourge down into the cliff at a steep angle, catching himself just a yard below the top. Only two golems followed him over the edge, unable to stop their advances in time to keep from falling. Still attacking as they plummeted past, one managed to open a deep gash next to the mul’s spine. Then they both shattered against the rocks below.
The last two golems kneeled at the cliff’s brink.
The mul thrust his free hand into a crevice and knotted his fist, twisting against the stone to jam it in place. As the two statues above began to slash at him, he pulled the Scourge free and severed one golem’s head. The thing hardly seemed to notice, thrashing at the arm Rikus had thrust into the crevice. When it could not reach, it dropped to its belly. The other golem, now excluded from the combat, returned to its feet and stepped away, where the mul could not see it.
Rikus waited until his attacker’s arms spread wide, then pulled himself close and thrust the Scourge up through the brink of the cliff. The blade passed through the basalt easily, driving deep into the golem’s chest. The statue exploded, though the cliff edge sheltered the mul from suffering more cuts.
When the last golem did not take this one’s place, Rikus began to pull himself up. A pair of heavy steps sounded atop the precipice. A boulder slowly appeared over the brink, held between the statue’s glassy arms. Cursing, the mul stretched across the cliff face and drove the Scourge deep into a knob of rock. He pulled his other hand from the crevice and swung away just as the huge rock plunged past.
The golem peered over the cliff and cocked its head at Rikus, then turned away. The mul pushed himself up and grabbed the statue’s ankle. As the thing stepped away, it dragged him back onto the cliff top. Leaving the Scourge planted in the precipice, Rikus rolled into the back of the golem’s legs. The thing tumbled over his body, landing flat on its back. The mul did not even stand but simply whipped himself around and pushed it over the edge with his feet.
“Most impressive, Rikus,” called Tithian. The king was just crawling onto the top of the cliff. “Aren’t you glad now for all that time you trained in my gladiator pits?”
The mul clenched his teeth and reached down to pull the Scourge free. “Stop talking and start climbing,” he growled. “The fight’s started, and we’re late.”
Gliding silently and invisibly along the gorge wall, Sadira watched Borys’s scouring breath bubble around Neeva and Caelum. He had been spewing sand at them for nearly a minute now, with no sign that he would stop soon. Thanks to the enchantment she had placed on the blade, the scalding wind caused her friends no harm. Nevertheless, the attack did keep the pair pinned close together, and the sorceress suspected that was why the Dragon continued to assault them with it.
The sorceress dived toward the battle, coming down the face of the arch, her hand vibrating with a soft hum. She knew the noise would alert the Dragon to her presence, but she did not care. By the time he cast a spell to undo the magic that made her invisible, her attack would be made. The sorceress descended past several yellow runes and slipped beneath the arch’s vault. She saw her target below and dropped.
Borys continued to spew sand at Neeva and Caelum, his arrow-shaped head pushed forward and his beady eyes flashing with rancor. The sharp spines of his crest glistened under Sadira like so many spears. He was stooped slightly forward, presenting his scaly shoulders to the sorceress.
Caelum cast a spell from outside the arch, and a layer of flame appeared beneath Sadira. She lost sight of the Dragon and had to slow her dive. Then she saw a clawed hand pluck the fire from the air like a silk cloth. Borys hurled the spell back at the dwarf. Neeva caught the blazing sheet on the heft of her axe, then whipped it away. The flames blanketed the canyon wall and continued to burn.
Resuming her dive, Sadira looked into the palm in which the Dragon held Rkard. Her stomach twisted into knots, and a cold hand clutched at her heart. The young mul was still not moving, and he looked almost starved. She could see every rib on his torso, and his stomach was distended with hunger. His skin was flushed and scaly from lack of water, and his limbs were as thin as sticks. Still, the sorceress had to bite her cheek to keep from calling out to Neeva. The boy’s eyes were open, and he was touching one hand to the sun-mark on his forehead. He had survived!
As Sadira slipped past the Dragon’s bony shoulder, the beast abruptly closed his mouth. He cocked his ear toward her, and a knowing gleam flashed in his eyes. The first syllables of an incantation began to slip from his leathery lips.
The sorceress reached Borys’s midsection and slapped her hand against his belly. She spoke the command word of her spell. She immediately turned visible, for she did not possess the psionic talents to keep herself hidden after making an attack. A deep hum throbbed through Borys’s abdomen, then the tintinnabulation of shattering glass erupted from inside his stomach.
The Dragon roared in pain. He struggled
to finish the incantation he had begun a moment earlier, but he only managed to belch forth a cloud of black dust—all that remained of the obsidian globes that had been stored in his stomach.
Sadira swung up toward the hand holding Rkard. Far below, Neeva and Caelum charged the arch, yelling and screaming madly. The sorceress streaked past Borys’s wrist and swept low over his palm. She reached down and snagged Rkard, gathering him up into her arms—and felt four sharp claws close around her body.
“Caught you, stupid woman,” the Dragon chortled. He jerked her out of the air and closed his fist, bearing down with indescribable force. “I knew you’d come for the child.”
Sadira wrapped herself around Rkard, protecting the boy from the awful pressure. At the same time, she kicked at the Dragon’s gnarled fingers, trying to break one or force them open. It was no use. The sorceress might have been imbued with the power of the sun, but the Dragon was infused with a magical force just as strong.
Borys met the charge of Rkard’s parents at the front of the arch. He casually kicked Neeva aside, sending her tumbling across the broken ground, then stomped at Caelum with his other foot. The dwarf saved himself by diving away.
Sadira tried to look toward the top of the cliffs, wondering if Rikus and Tithian could see what was happening. The effort was futile. She could peer between Borys’s scaly fingers and see most of what was happening on the ground, but it was impossible to twist around to look up.
“Sadira! You shouldn’t have come for me,” said Rkard. He was so hoarse that the sorceress could barely understand him.
“Of course I should have,” the sorceress replied, her voice strained. It was all she could do to keep her arms extended and her body curled over Rkard so the Dragon’s fist would not crush the boy. “You’re going to kill Borys.”
“I don’t think so,” Rkard said. “Jo’orsh said something that—”
The Dragon bore down harder.
“Not now, Rkard,” Sadira groaned. She tensed every muscle in her body, struggling to keep herself and the boy from being crushed.
Borys stepped from beneath the arch and peered down at Caelum, who was struggling to return to his feet. Sadira took a deep breath, expecting Rikus’s war cry to ring off the gorge walls as he and Tithian leapt down from above.
The only thing she heard was Borys chuckling. The Dragon fixed one beady eye on Caelum. From the intensity of his gaze, she guessed that he was about to use the Way against the dwarf.
“No!” The sorceress started to reach for a spell component but had to stop when she nearly collapsed on top of Rkard.
To Sadira’s surprise, the rugged image of a human man suddenly flashed into the shadowy corridors of her mind. He had blocky features, with a shaven head, round ears, and a long beard with no mustache. His eyes were beady and full of hatred, much as the Dragon’s, and he was dressed in a full suit of gleaming plate armor.
At first, Sadira was perplexed about what she was seeing. Then she realized that Borys was attacking with the Way.
The knight pulled a sword and walked until he reached a door of polished ebony, which he kicked open. The doorway opened into a gloomy room with a high, vaulted ceiling. The walls were lined by benches and draped with richly colored tapestries depicting the bearded dwarves of old. In the center of the chamber, a ball of crimson fire hovered over a circle of white marble.
Sadira was confused. She had no memories of such a room. It almost seemed as though she were looking into Caelum’s mind.
The warrior crossed to the circle and paused before the blazing globe. “I should have finished my job and cleansed the world of every filthy dwarf when I had the chance.”
A few tendrils of flame lashed out and washed over the knight’s armor. He simply laughed and raised his sword, then began to chop away great pieces of the burning sphere.
In the ravine, Caelum began to scream, leaving no doubt in Sadira’s mind about what she was seeing. The Dragon’s mental attack was so powerful that it had penetrated her thoughts, carrying a part of her consciousness into the victim’s mind.
“What’s happening?” Rkard demanded.
Sadira covered the boy’s eyes. “Don’t look.”
Caelum fell silent, then his body erupted into a spray of blood and flesh. It collapsed to the ground in a dozen neatly sliced pieces. Borys snickered then turned around and stepped back toward the arch.
Sadira heard Neeva yell. The sorceress shifted her gaze between another pair of fingers and saw Rkard’s mother burying the sparkling edge of her axe into Borys’s leathery calf. The blade bit deep, and the Dragon’s leg began to jerk with rhythmic convulsions.
The spasms brought a feeling of satisfaction and hope to Sadira. She knew that with each contraction, the enchantment she had placed on Neeva’s axe was pumping another bolt of mystic energy into Borys’s leg. The resulting explosions were not powerful enough to kill the Dragon, but they would certainly serve to slow him down for Rikus and Tithian.
Apparently Borys had no interest in waiting for the pair to arrive. Growling in pain, he limped back beneath his arch without taking the time to remove either the axe or Neeva from his leg. As the Dragon passed between the pillars, he uttered a long series of words in a language Sadira didn’t understand.
A loud crackle echoed off the walls of the arch, then a brilliant flash of orange light forced Sadira to close her eyes. She felt Borys step forward, then the mordant stench of boiling rock burned her nose and throat. Her stomach grew queasy, and she suddenly felt as light as a cloud.
“Rikus!” she yelled. “Where are you?”
FIFTEEN
THE BROKEN
PLAIN
TITHIAN SCURRIED UP THE SLOPE WITH JUST THE proper amount of urgency, joining Rikus on the hill’s crest. From this high vantage, the king could see that the abyss beyond the arch was filled with a sea of lava. In some places, it bubbled and shot viscous geysers high into the air, and in others torpid whirlpools slowly sank into unseen sinkholes. Scattered spires of scorched stone rose out of the molten expanse, while the black ribbon of a cliff barely showed on the far side of the vast pool.
The king saw no sign of Ur Draxa, the secret city-prison wherein Rajaat was confined. Still, he felt certain that they were not far away from it, for the great arch and its yellow runes had been created to protect something—and the king did not think it was a sea of molten stone. Soon, he would free the ancient master of sorcery and receive his reward: the powers of an immortal sorcerer-king.
But first, Tithian had the Dragon—and a few former slaves—to kill. The king peered over the cliff and discovered that the ravine below was empty. The blood was still draining from the assorted pieces of what the king assumed had once been Caelum.
In a concerned voice, Tithian asked, “Where is everyone?”
As he spoke, the king searched the broken floor of the valley for some sign of Neeva’s body. He saw nothing but a few pulsing heaps of stone and the arch, its face still covered with writhing yellow runes.
“They’re gone!” Rikus pointed the tip of his sword at the arch. “The Dragon stepped through there with Sadira just as I reached the top of the hill.”
“And Neeva?” the king asked.
“Clinging to Borys’s leg,” the mul reported. “Her axe was buried nice and deep.”
Tithian cursed silently. It would have been better if both Caelum and his wife were already dead. Now, Neeva would be one more person trying to kill him after Borys died. Still, the king was not overly concerned. In the weeks since he had stolen the Dark Lens, he had noticed that the higher the sun was in the sky, the more searing the surface of the Lens. Judging by the orb’s relatively bearable temperature at the moment, the king knew the sun was about to set—taking with it Sadira’s powers. If he could time things so that they finished the Dragon just after nightfall, the sorceress would not be a challenge. That would leave only Rikus and his sword to worry about.
Rikus’s hand flashed out, grabbing Tithian’s lon
g hair. “Bring them back,” he ordered.
“I can’t do that—”
“Then I have no reason to keep you alive.” The mul pressed the Scourge’s tip to the chitinous collar connecting the king’s head and his scorpion’s body.
“Let me finish,” Tithian hissed. He was very careful to keep his tail motionless. “Perhaps we can still save them.”
“How?” the mul demanded.
“We can follow,” Tithian replied, gesturing toward the arch. “And we can do it quickly, if you’ll let me fly us down to the arch.”
Rikus released Tithian’s hair. “We’ve got little enough to lose,” he said. “Do it.”
The Dragon’s foot returned to the ground, and Neeva felt the chasm’s incredible heat at her back. Still clinging to the axe handle, she blinked several times. A wasteland of black scoria sloped gently away before her. It was laced with jagged fissures and twisted ribs of rock, and it appeared more windswept and bleak than any terrain she had ever seen. The plain ended in the far-off distance, where a sheer cliff rose straight into the boiling red clouds of the sky.
In a step, Borys had crossed the sea of molten rock.
The Dragon limped from beneath an arch identical to the one they had departed a moment earlier, then growled in pain. Knowing what would come next, Neeva braced her feet and pulled her axe free. She dropped to the ground just as Borys’s claw slapped the place where she had been hanging.
The warrior swung her axe. The sparkling edge bit deep, then began pumping bolts of mystic energy into Borys’s wrist. The Dragon’s hand swelled to twice its normal size and blew apart, pelting Neeva with beads of fiery, yellow blood and bits of bone.
Borys’s howl shook the ground.
Neeva dived away. She rolled across her shoulders and came up facing the Dragon’s flank, her axe still in her hands. Ignoring the agony of her many burns, the warrior charged, aiming her blade at the leg she had mangled before.
Borys pivoted away. Neeva found herself crossing the open plain without protection. The Dragon fixed an eye on her, and white, blazing pain filled her head.
The Cerulean Storm Page 23
