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

“He didn't tell you to get them killed in a reckless charge,” Neeva countered.

“It isn't reckless,” Rikus answered.

The pair ran out of time to debate the issue, reaching the bottom of the slope just as the
first wave of gladiators spilled into the sandy valley. Rikus and Neeva had come down near
the flank of the enemy line, only a few dozen paces from several glowering half-giants.
The towering Urikites held steady, waiting for the mul and his partner to move into
striking range.

Rikus looked toward the pair of half-giants anchoring the end of the enemy line. In
contrast to most of their kind, they were stoutly built, with a powerful shape to their
torsos. Their hair had been shaved away from their thick-boned foreheads, and their
drooping jaws showed no sign of the customarily flabby chin of the race. They were even
somewhat taller than most half-giants, standing at least twice as high as the mul.

“Those are our two,” Rikus said, raising his weapons. He carried a pair of cahulaks, which
resembled two flat-bladed grappling hooks connected at the base by a rope. “Come on.”

Before Neeva could object, he took off at a sprint, angling away to force the half-giants
to leave their formation. At first, Rikus did not think they would fall for his ploy, but
an officer finally barked, “Cut them off!”

A tremendous clatter sounded from the center of the enemy line as the first wave of
Tyrians reached it. A few half-giants bellowed in pain and collapsed to the hot sand, but
most used their small bucklers to deflect the gladiators' assaults. In unison, the
Urikites hefted their black-bladed axes, and Tyr's first wave of attackers disappeared in
a spray of blood.

Rikus felt a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach, but the hiss of heavy feet shuffling
through deep sand drew his attention back to his own foes. The two half-giants he had
lured away from the line were almost upon him and Neeva.

“Break right!” Rikus called, naming a trick he and Neeva had often employed when they
fought together in Tyr's arena.

Instantly, Neeva slid several steps to her right, then sprinted forward to place herself
on the flank of the half-giant approaching her. Rikus followed, moving toward the same
half-giant and whirling a cahulak at his side. The Urikites attacked, trying to keep Rikus
and Neeva from double-teaming either of them.

The mul threw a cahulak toward the half-giant attacking Neeva, intentionally overshooting.
The weapon sailed over the shaft of the battle-axe and swung back toward Rikus as it
reached the end of its rope. The mul caught the cahulak and ducked, entangling the
half-giant's axe.

With flawless timing, Neeva leveled her steel axe at the other half-giant, who had been
moving to attack the mul from behind. Rikus heard the sound of shattering stone. Black
shards of obsidian rained down on the raw skin of his back, and the Urikite's headless axe
handle banged harmlessly into his shoulder. Neeva leaped over Rikus's back, drawing her
axe back for another stroke, and a loud scream announced that her blade had found its
target.

As Neeva's half-giant collapsed into a bellowing heap, Rikus got to his feet and jerked
the other's axe from his hands. The Urikite's mouth fell open, and he tried to retreat.
Rikus followed, burying the tip of a cahulak deep into the tall soldier's thigh. In
retaliation, the half-giant swung a huge fist. Rikus ducked, at the same time pulling his
enemy off his feet. The Urikite had barely dropped to the scalding sand before the mul
smashed his other cahulak into the half-giant's head.

When Rikus tried to remove his weapon from the half-giant's skull, he found that it was
stuck in place. A quick glance around told him that he was in no immediate danger, so he
began to twist the blade back and forth to free it.

As the mul worked, a warm glow of satisfaction spread over him. The feeling was not due to
any joy he felt over the Urikite's death, but to the skill with which he and his fighting
partner had worked together. Rikus and Neeva had not fought together since their days as a
matched pair in Tyr's gladiatorial arena, and the mul missed the intimacy of those
battles. When they were fighting, they moved and thought as one person, sharing thoughts
and emotions deeper than even their passions while making love.

Neeva stepped to the mul's side and wiped her gory axe blade on the half-giant's red
tunic. By the ardent smile on her full lips, Rikus could tell that her thoughts were the
same as his. “We haven't lost our touch,” she said. “That's nice to know.”

“You couldn't think we would?” Rikus asked, finally freeing his weapon from his opponent's
head. “No matter what, we'll always have our touch.”

A triumphant roar sounded from the center of the Urikite line. Rikus looked toward the
commotion and saw that the second wave of his warriors had fared as well as he and Neeva.
The enemy formation was in complete disarray, with Tyrians swarming the half-giants from
all sides. The greatest part of the legion, however, was pouring through the shattered
line and rushing toward the center of valley.

There, the driks and their siege engines had already moved ahead, but the argosy was just
now pulling even with the point of attack. The moving fortress stood three stories tall,
and at each corner rose a small tower manned by guards with crossbows. A plethora of arrow
loops dotted its sides, and its great doors were shut fast. The massive wagon was drawn by
a team of four mekillots, giant reptiles with mound-shaped bodies and rocky shells. To
Rikus, the beasts looked more like mobile buttes of solid stone than living creatures.

Motioning for Neeva to follow, Rikus rushed toward the knot of Tyrian warriors chasing the
argosy. After circumventing the last of the battle with the half-giants, they joined the
mass of jubilant gladiators and worked their way to the front of the crowd.

There, they found Agis trying to keep the mob under control, his forehead creased with
irritation. As Rikus approached, the nobleman clenched his teeth and looked away as if
trying to master his temper.

At Agis's side stood Sadira, her long amber hair bound in a loose tail, draped over a
shoulder to reveal one elegantly pointed ear. In her hands, the winsome half-elf held a
wooden cane with a pommel of black obsidian.

An uncomfortable chill ran down Rikus's spine at the sight of her weapon. It was one of
two magic artifacts that had been loaned to him and his three companions for the purpose
of killing Kalak, the thousand-year-old sorcerer-king who had ruled Tyr before Tithian.
Rikus had sent his artifact, the Heartwood Spear, back to its owner shortly after they
succeeded in assassinating Kalak. Sadira, however, had ignored the advice of her friends
and elected to keep the cane. The mul secretly feared they would all pay dearly for the
half-elf's decision.

“The battle's going well enough so far,” Sadira observed. She glanced at Agis and lifted a
peaked eyebrow at the noble's uncustomary display of anger, then asked Rikus. “Now what?”

“Let's smash the argosy,” Rikus answered, fixing his gaze on the huge wagon.

“And what of the rest of our legion?” Agis demanded, finally breaking his silence. “Even
you can't think it will take two-thousand soldiers to destroy a single argosy.”

Rikus glanced around. The half-giants had been completely overrun, and the rest of the
Tyrian legion was moving forward to continue the attack. “We're in a fight,” he answered
simply. “Our gladiators know what to do.”

“We're not all gladiators,” Sadira reminded him. “What about the templars and Jaseela's
retainers?”

“It would be better if they stayed out of the way,” Rikus answered, grinning. “We don't
want them to get hurt.”

“You're being too sure of yourself, Rikus,” Neeva said. “This is a battle, not a grand
melee. Agis might be right about making a plan.”

“I have a plan,” Rikus answered. He started toward the argosy, bringing the conversation
to an end.

It took the companions only a few moments to catch the slow-moving wagon. Several hundred
warriors followed them, but the largest part of the Tyrian mob acted on its own initiative
to rush after the driks and the siege machines. Agis and Sadira seemed surprised at how
neatly the mob had divided itself, but Rikus was not. When it came to fighting, he trusted
the instincts of his gladiators more than he trusted complicated plans and orders.

Rikus circled around to the rear of the argosy, hoping to decrease its firepower by
approaching from the narrowest wall. Despite his caution, the mul could see that gaining
entrance to the wagon would be no easy thing. The side was lined with at least three dozen
arrow loops, the black tips of crossbow bolts protruding from each slit. From the corner
towers, the guards were shouting a constant stream of warnings down into the wagon.

The mul saw the tips of several fingers poke out of the lowest slit on the wagon, then
heard a woman's voice call upon King Hamanu for the magic to cast a spell.

Over his shoulder, Rikus cried, “Get down!”

The mul grabbed Sadira and threw her to the ground, dropping on top of her as a tremendous
crash boomed out of the argosy. A fan-shaped sheet of crackling red light flashed across
the sand. Behind Rikus erupted a tumult of screams, which abated as suddenly as they
started. The mul looked over his shoulder to see the headless bodies of dozens of
gladiators crumple to the ground.

Neeva reached out from Rikus's side and slapped the back of his bald head. “Fighting
partners are supposed to protect each other, not their mistresses,” she said. Though her
tone was light, her green eyes showed how hurt she was that it had been Sadira and not her
the mul had defended.

“I knew you'd be able to take care of yourself,” Rikus explained.

The muffled clacks of dozens of crossbows sounded from inside the wagon. A wave of black
streaks flashed from the loops, then dozens of gladiators screamed in pain.

Rikus regarded the argosy with renewed respect. He was beginning to see why the fortress
wagons were a favored mode of caravan travel. Any tribe of raiders could catch one, but
stopping it might well prove to be impossible.

After the bolts had passed, Neeva gestured at Sadira's hand, which was the only part of
the winsome half-elf showing from beneath the mul's massive body. “You'd better get off
before she suffocates.”

As soon as Rikus rose to his knees, Sadira turned her pale eyes on him and frowned. “How
do you expect me to cast spells from underneath you?”

Before Rikus could apologize, Sadira pointed the cane at the argosy.
“Nok!”
she cried. A purple light glimmered deep within the weapon's pommel.

Rikus cringed, hoping that what happened next would not frighten his own superstitious
gladiators as much as it injured the Urikites. Normal magic drew spell energy from the
life force of plants, but Sadira's cane extracted its power from a different source.

Sadira called,
“Dawnfire!”

Rikus experienced an eerie tingle in his stomach, then started to grow queasy. Behind him,
gladiators gasped and cried out in alarm as they, too, felt the cane drawing its energy
from their life spirits.

The sick feeling stopped an instant later, and a ball of scarlet flame streaked to the
argosy. The roiling sphere spread out like a fog, engulfing the rear quarter of the wagon
in ruby-red fire. The Urikites in the towers plunged from their stations, screaming in
agony, and in half-a-dozen places the back wall burned away like parchment.

Despite the sorceress's devastating attack, the mekillots continued to pull the argosy
forward, oblivious to what was happening behind them.

“Into the wagon!” Rikus cried, resuming his chargeÑand hoping that his gladiators were not
too distracted by Sadira's magic to follow.

Hundreds of battle cries informed him they were not, and soon he was leading a mass of
screaming men and women after the smoking argosy. A few muffled clacks sounded from inside
the wagon, but Sadira's attack had taken its toll. Less than half-a-dozen black bolts shot
from the arrow loops, and only one found its mark.

Rikus charged over the scalded body of a woman dressed in the yellow cassock of Hamanu's
templars, then caught up to the argosy. Without breaking stride, he whirled a cahulak and
tossed it into one of the smoking holes overhead. After tugging the rope to set the
blades, the mul swung up and onto the lowest deck of the wagon's rear firing platform.

The horrid stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils. Fighting the urge to gag, Rikus
looked around and saw that the deck had been reduced to a shambles. Scorched bodies and
smashed weapons lay scattered everywhere. Flames licked at the rear wall in a dozen
places, searing even the mul's bronzed skin and filling his lungs with caustic fumes.
Through the smoke, Rikus could see a doorway leading deeper into the argosy. To either
side of this doorway, a ladder ascended through a manway in the ceiling.

Facing the rear of the wagon again, Rikus kneeled and gave Neeva a helping hand up. As she
climbed onto the deck, she peered past his legs and said, “Two behind you.” Her voice was
as calm as if she had been spotting birds leaving their roosts at dawn.

The mul spun on his heels, swinging a cahulak at the full length of its rope. Through the
haze, he saw two soot-covered Urikites pointing their crossbows at him. Rikus dodged to
one side, and the soldiers triggered their weapons. A pair of bolts sizzled past his head,
thumping into the wood at the back of the wagon. At the same time, the cahulak took the
first guard in the knee, its blade sinking deep into the joint. The mul tugged the rope,
pulling the man off his feet.

The second soldier reached for the obsidian short sword hanging at his side. Rikus sprang
at this one, planting his foot squarely on the lion embroidered on the Urikite's red
tunic. The man dropped to the floor clutching his chest.

As Rikus finished off the two soldiers he had disabled, Neeva reached down to help Agis
into the wagon. Once the nobleman was inside, he helped Sadira up, and behind her came a
steady stream of gladiators. Soon the platform was crowded with Tyrian warriors, all
coughing and gasping from the thick smoke. The mul directed a few up the ladders to
eliminate any survivors on the higher decks, then motioned for his friends and the others
to follow him through the back doorway.