Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 2 - The Crimson Legion (17 page)

Behind Rikus, a loud crackle sounded from the direction Neeva had fled, then a brilliant
crimson light flared. Remembering the sound he had heard just before he killed his first
halfling, Rikus assumed that Neeva had stumbled into a Urikite templar.

“Neeva!” he yelled, leaping to his feet again.

A sharp pain shot through the kneecap he had smashed earlier and his leg nearly buckled.
To his relief, however, the Scourge brought the sound of Neeva's voice to his ears. “Rikus
is still alive,” she said. “Come on!”

Not bothering to ask himself to whom she was talking, he limped forward again.

A few steps later, he stopped in his tracks. In front of him stood four halflings, all
pointing arrows in his direction. Their bowstrings snapped simultaneously.

Rikus cursed bitterly and dove to the side with all the grace he could muster.

The mul felt the soft thud of four tiny darts before his feet had even left the ground. He
had time enough to realize that, again, they had struck him in the Belt of Rank, then he
smashed into the rocks.

In the same instant, a tremendous peal of thunder deafened Rikus and a brilliant orange
light flooded the night. It washed out the mul's dwarven vision and cast strange,
quavering shadows over the entire field. A searing blast of wind washed over him. Blinded
by the brilliant glare and pained by the heat, Rikus covered his eyes and curled into a
fetal position.

With his ears ringing and his vision clouded, Rikus realized that he was more vulnerable
than ever to the halflings. He lay as still as he could, convinced that he would never
know the answer to the many questions flooding his mind about what had just happened. At
any moment, he expected a halfling's dagger to slip into his kidneys, or a dozen tiny
arrows to prick his exposed back. Still, as much as his instincts cried out for him to
stand and fight, the mul knew that moving would only draw attention to himself. Until his
senses returned, he was helpless.

To his surprise, when his ears finally stopped ringing it was Neeva's voice he heard.
“Rikus, are you hurt?”

The mul looked up and, through his slowly clearing vision, saw his fighting partner
standing over him. She was silhouetted against a wall of flame that still burned where the
four halflings had been a few moments earlier.

“Neeva, you're safe!”

“Of course,” she said. “You're the one they were trying to kill.”

Rikus frowned. “Me?”

“When you screamed, they all but left me alone,” Neeva explained. “The question is, are
you hurt?”

“I don't know, and now is no time to find out,” Rikus said, rising. “Let's goÑ”

“Don't worry, the halflings are goneÑat least for now,” Neeva said, laying a hand on his
shoulder. "Now, are you injured or not?

Rikus frowned, but decided to take her at her word. If there were still halflings about,
they would have struck by now. In answer to Neeva's question, the mul said, “I've been hit
by half-a-dozen poison arrows, but the Belt of Rank stopped them all.” He pointed at the
four darts still stuck in the girdle. “Otherwise, I'd be dead by now.”

“Let me have a look, just to be sure,” another familiar voice, this one at the mul's back.
“Sometimes, a wounded man does not feel his injuries until much later”

Rikus peered over his shoulder and saw a dwarf's lanky form standing behind him. “Caelum?”
he gasped.

“Who do you think created the wall of flame that saved you?” Neeva asked.

Rikus ignored her and scowled at the dwarf. “What are you doing here? I told you and
everyone else to leave Neeva, and me alone.”

The dwarf dropped his eyes. “It was a coincidence. I was performing my sundown devotions.”

“I've never seen you perform any devotions,” Rikus grunted. He narrowed his eyes and
studied the dwarf's dark eyes. “You're lying.”

“Why would he do that?” Neeva demanded.

“Maybe it wasn't the Kes'trekels who warned Maetan about our ambush,” Rikus said, grabbing
the dwarf by the throat. “Maybe it was Caelum!”

“That's madness!” snapped Neeva, prying the dwarf from Rikus's grasp.

“No, it's not,” Rikus insisted. “He followed us out here so he could show the halflings
where we were sleeping.”

“No,” Caelum rasped, rubbing his throat. “It was a coincidence, as I said. You've never
seen my devotions because I must perform them alone.”

“You don't expect me to believe that,” Rikus sneered.

“It makes more sense than what you're thinking,” Neeva snapped. “If Caelum's a traitor,
why'd he save you from the halflings?”

Rikus scowled, unable to think of a good reason. “How do I know? He's the spy!”

“Whatever you choose to believe about my devotions, you must see that I have as much
reason as you to hate Maetan. I am no spy,” Caelum said, meeting the mul's gaze evenly.
“Now, let me inspect your stomach. If you have been scratched, the sun's vigor will burn
the poison from your blood.”

When the mul did not do as the dwarf asked, Neeva reached over and unclasped the buckle.
“I think we should return to the legion before sunrise,” she snapped.

Caelum immediately set about inspecting the mul for wounds.

As Neeva stretched out the Belt of Rank to inspect it, Rikus saw that there were two more
halfling darts in the back. Though they had probably struck him while he was crawling
through the rocks, he had not even felt them through the thick leather.

“And you called it a worthless piece of leather,” Rikus said, motioning at the girdle.

Neeva shook her head in amazement. “All the arrows hit you in the belt,” she said. “How
lucky can you get?”

“I doubt that it was luck,” Caelum said. He paused his ministering to pluck a poisoned
dart from the leather. “I'd say it was magic.”

Umbra's Return

Rikus woke to a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Stop lying on ground,” said K'kriq. “Find Urikites.”

Opening his eyes, the mul saw that the green tendrils of first light were just shooting
across the starlit sky. He rolled away from Neeva's warm body and looked up at the
thri-kreen's towering form.

“Huh?” he asked groggily.

“What wrong?” demanded K'kriq, clacking his mandibles impatiently. “Why so stupid?”

“I was sleeping,” Rikus yawned.

“Sleep,” the thri-kreen snorted, disgusted with the mul's weakness. “Waste good time for
hunt.”

“It's no waste,” Rikus grumbled. Taking one of the cloaks he and Neeva had been using to
insulate themselves from the cold night wind, he rose to his feet and stepped away. “What
about the Urikites?”

K'kriq pointed all four arms westward, toward the jagged, black wall of the Ringing
Mountains. “Find many Urikites. Not far,” he said.

Rikus raised a hand. “Wait.”

The mul looked out over the dusty camp, where a thousand murky, inert lumps lay snoring
and growling in their sleep. “Everyone up!” he yelled. “Move!”

Half the gladiators leaped to their feet with weapons in their hands, and the other half
hardly stirred. “Wake your fellows,” Rikus ordered, stepping to Neeva's side and nudging
her with his foot. “We march in a quarter-hour.”

Neeva rose, pulling her cloak over her shoulders and stifling a yawn. “What's happening?”

Rikus took her by the hand and started toward the templars' camp. “I'll explain later.
Now, we've got to wake our leaders.”

Within a few minutes, they had roused both Styan and Jaseela. When Rikus asked K'kriq to
explain what was happening, however, Neeva objected. “What about Caelum?”

“He's probably off on morning devotions,” Rikus answered sarcastically. The dwarf's
unexplained appearance the night before still angered the mul. Although he had to agree
with Neeva that a traitor would not have saved them from the halfling assassins, he
remained convinced that Caelum had followed them to their campsite for some other purpose.

“We'd better find him,” said Jaseela. She yawned, then winced in pain when her crooked jaw
opened too far for its mangled socket. “If you're expecting a battle, we'll need the
dwarves.”

Rikus reluctantly agreed, then led the way to where the dwarves had slept. They had made
their orderly camp between two spires of sandstone, on a bristly carpet of moss that
reflected the faint rays of predawn light in glimmering silver and gold.

Caelum met the leaders in the center of camp, offering them each a handful of small
serpent eggs. Only Styan refused the breakfast.

“K'kriq found a Urikite campsite,” Rikus explained, pointing at the distant gulch the
thri-kreen had indicated earlier.

“How big?” asked Jaseela, slipping one of the leathery eggs into her misshapen mouth.

“As many as our packs,” K'kriq answered, pointing one hand at each of the companies in
Rikus's legion. “Many humans. Camped, waiting.”

“Did you see Maetan or the
Book of Kings?”
asked Caelum.

K'kriq crossed his stubby antennae, indicating that the answer was no.

“That doesn't mean the mindbender isn't with them,” Rikus said.

“And it doesn't mean he is,” objected Styan. “He could be halfway back to Urik.”

“We're attacking,” Rikus insisted.

“Who is
we,
exactly?” Styan demanded, looking down his pointed nose at the mul. “I haven't committed
my templars to anything.”

“If we wait for the templars to fight, Maetan has time enough to crawl home,” Rikus spat.

Styan faced the other commanders. “We must go straight to the oasis. My company finished
its water last night.”

“You let them finish their water? What if there were still Urikites at the oasis? Without
any water your men would be unable to fight come midday,” Neeva said. “Only templars would
be so stupid.”

“Not necessarily,” said Jaseela, turning her good eye on Rikus. “We ran out yesterday
afternoon.”

Neeva groaned and looked to Caelum. “How about the dwarves?”

“We've been on half-rations for three days,” he said proudly. “If we go to quarter
rations, we'll last another day.”

Styan smirked in Rikus's direction. “If you were wise enough to keep track of your
gladiators' water, I think you'd find that they emptied their skins before the rest of us.”

“It doesn't matter,” Rikus snapped. “We did without water for three days before the fight
at Kled.”

“Not by choice,” objected Styan. “And who's to say how long we will be without water if we
attack and the battle goes badly?”

“It won't,” Rikus growled.

Styan shook his head stubbornly. "If I command my men to bypass the oasis, they'll plant a
dagger in my back.

“That wouldn't be such a bad thing,” Neeva said. The whole legion would be better off
without you and your cowards."

Styan glared at her for a moment, then looked back to Rikus. “If you insist on this
foolishness, the gladiators will attack alone.”

“Not alone,” said Jaseela. “Water or no water, my retainers and I are with them.”

“As are the dwarves,” added Caelum, stepping to Neeva's side.

Styan studied the sun-cleric for a few moments, a grim smile upon his thin lips. “Can you
be sure of that?”

The dwarf's red eyes flashed in anger. “Of course!”

“Shall we see?” the templar asked. He stepped away from the small group of leaders and
faced the dwarven camp. “Warriors of Kled, I feel it is my duty to speak with you for a
moment.”

The dwarves turned their placid gazes on Styan, prepared to hear his words.

Rikus frowned and started to grab the templar, but Jaseela quickly clutched his arm. “If
you interfere, it'll look like you re afraid of what he has to say,” she said. “Better to
let him speak.”

The mul grunted angrily, but stepped back and clenched his fists in frustration.

“The thri-kreen scout claims he has found a Urikite camp, and the leader of the gladiators
wishes to attack it,” Styan said. He waved a hand at the mul, as if his audience might not
know Rikus by sight. “Out of fairness to you, I must point out that there is no reason to
believe that Maetan or the
Book of the Kemalok Kings
are with them.”

“There's no reason to believe the book isn't!” Rikus boomed, stepping to Styan's side. “If
you're too much of a cowardÑ”

“This isn't a matter of bravery, it's a matter of honesty,” Styan retorted, maintaining a
reasonable tone even though he had raised his voice above Rikus's. The templar gave the
mul a chastising look, then said, “If you were honest about the matter, you'd admit that
K'kriq found a rear guard. Does it make sense to leave the
Book of the Kemalok Kings
with them?”

The dwarves studied both men, their steadfast expressions revealing nothing about the
thoughts Styan's words had fostered.

Neeva stepped forward to support Rikus. “We don't know that it's a rear guard,” she said.

“Don't we?” asked Styan, raising his eyebrows with exaggerated doubt. “Did K'kriq not say
that they were 'waiting'? What are they waiting for, if not us?”

“He said they were camped,” Rikus countered. “To him, sleeping is the same as waiting.”

“Even if I were willing to concede that point, here is another you cannot explain away so
easily,” Styan said, one side of his mouth curling up in a confident grin. “As we were
climbing down from the canyon yesterday, one of my men, a half-elf with eyes as sharp as
those of his full-blooded brethren, saw a handful of figures struggling across the
sandsÑaway from the oasis.”

“You're making this up!” Rikus shouted.

Styan ignored him and addressed the dwarves. “That is where your book has gone,” he said.
“And while we are fighting, Maetan will be carrying it farther away.”

“Liar!”

Rikus gave Styan a violent shove, sending the gaunt man flying two yards through the air
before he crashed to the dusty ground. The mul was on the templar in an instant, the
Scourge of Rkard in his hand and the blade's tip pressed to the bureaucrat's wrinkled
throat.

Styan's face remained serene and confident, but, above the astonished gasps and the fall
of alarmed steps, Rikus could hear the templar's madly pounding heart.