Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 2 - The Crimson Legion (24 page)

The magical blade sliced through the stony scales. A geyser of dark blood shot high into
the air, and the lirr howled in pain, scattering rocks to and fro as it whipped its heavy
tail about.

Rikus had little time to gloat over his victory, for he heard stones clattering to both
sides as two of the
beast's
fellows rushed to finish him off. The mul tried to leap to his feet, but his slow reflexes
and battered limbs were still not up to the task. As the creatures closed in, he dropped
back to his knees and spun around, swinging his sword in a wide arc.

The Scourge sliced across the first lirr's leg just below the crooked knee, then cut deep
into the second's jawline. Wailing in pain, the beasts sprayed the mul with dirt and small
stones as they stopped their reckless charges. Whipping his blade around, Rikus lunged at
his first attacker, sinking the sword deep into its skull. The other one launched itself
at its prey. The beast sank its serrated teeth into the swollen flesh of the gladiator's
bruised leg. Rikus screamed, then instantly regretted his lack of restraint as the raw
tissues of his parched throat burst into agonizing spasms.

The lirr whipped its head around violently and backed away, trying to drag its prey off
his feet. Rikus jerked the Scourge free of the other beast's skull and brought the blade
down across his attacker. The blade cut through the scales and deep into the neck on the
first hack, but the saurian's jaws only clamped tighter. The mul struck again, this time
lopping the head cleanly off.

The jaws remained closed. Rikus backed away with the lirr's bead still attached to his
leg, stumbling about in a circle to face any more beasts that might be attacking. The
other three predators kept their distance, circling around the battle site, well out of
the mul's reach.

“Come on!” Rikus croaked, again sending a burning wave of pain through his throat. “Let's
finish this!”

Two of the lirrs stood on their hind feet and let out a series of mournful notes. The
third, the one that had stolen his walking staff, angrily gnashed the wooden shaft into
bits, tossing its head about and flinging the pieces far into the night.

Pathetic,
observed Tamar.
There are still three of them, and you're in worse condition than before.

Ignoring the wraith, Rikus stuck the Scourge's blade into the lirr mouth clinging to his
leg, then cut the muscles holding the jaws shut. When the head fell away, blood poured
from the wound so freely that he could not see how badly the thing had injured himÑand he
was not sure he wanted to.

The mul ripped a strip of cloth from his breechcloth. He tied it above the injury to slow
his blood loss.

Cover the wound. It will heal faster.

When I get to camp,
Rikus said, wincing as he started to limp forward.

You have no idea how far away your camp is!

Sure I do,
Rikus said, looking toward the top of the knoll.
It's just over this hill.

It was a statement of desperation, not fact. Nevertheless, Rikus had to believe what he
said, for if he let himself think anything else he would not have the strength to
continue. He knew that if he did not reach his legion soon, the combination of his fresh
wounds, old injuries, thirst, and exhaustion would kill him.

Unfortunately, Rikus's warriors were not camped beyond the summit of the knoll, nor beyond
the summit of the next one, nor even beyond the one after that. The mul struggled onward,
always telling himself that the legion was just beyond the next ridge. The three surviving
lirrs kept him company, once again giving him wide berth and sporadically bellowing their
grim songs. Every now and then, they would close in and rush forward to test his reflexes,
then quickly retreat when he demonstrated that he could still swing the Scourge.

As the two moons began to sink behind the Ringing Mountains, Rikus stood in the bottom of
yet another rocky valley. He was looking up at the distant summit of yet another knoll,
watching the soft morning breeze send tiny sand-devils skittering across the gentle slope.
Already the green tendrils of first light were creeping up from the eastern horizon. The
mul knew that, by the time he set foot atop the hill, the crimson sun would be shining
down on him with all its fury.

Rikus dropped to his knees and laid the Scourge of Rkard across his thighs. The lirrs
tightened their circle and bellowed their ghastly songs in wild glee.

Get up!
Tamar ordered.

Rikus tried to rise, but found that his weary muscles would not obey. He was no longer
conscious of the ache in his savaged leg. It hurt so badly from exhaustion that he could
not even feel the pain of its lacerations.

You have not recovered the book. I will not allow you to quit!

You can't doÑ

Rikus dropped his answer in midsentence, for the Scourge's magic brought a new sound to
his ears. He scanned the hillside, searching its shadows for some sign of what had caused
the noise. He saw nothing except motionless silhouettes, but the whisper of soft,
controlled breathing was coming from behind an elongated boulder a short distance ahead.
The mul struggled to his feet and limped forward. The movement drew a long series of
mournful notes from the lirrs.

What is it?

Rikus did not bother to answer the wraith's question. Instead, he gripped the Scourge more
tightly and limped onward. The mul had no idea what had made the sound, but he doubted
that it was someone from his legion. There was still enough moonlight for sentries to
recognize their commander standing in the open, and Rikus had heard no one call his name
or even issue a challenge.

It hardly mattered. He had only one hope of survival: perhaps the unseen creature had a
supply of water with it. The lirrs seemed to sense Rikus's change in attitude, closing the
distance between them and their prey. They moved so silently that Rikus doubted he would
have heard them had it not been for the Scourge of Rkard. He paid them no attention,
relying on their natural caution to keep them at bay while he investigated the noise.

After Rikus had progressed less than twenty agonizing limps up the hill, whatever was
hiding behind the boulder shifted position, creating a loud crackle. Fearing that their
hard-won prey was about to walk into the waiting arms of some other hunter, the lirrs
charged after Rikus in a mad scramble. The mul spun around to face the creatures, knowing
that he was inviting attack from the rearÑbut having no other choice.

The lirrs leaped at him en masse, their claws slashing and their jaws snapping. Behind
Rikus, stones rattled as the mysterious creature left its hiding place and came after him.
Cursing his bad luck, the mul threw himself at the central lirr, leading with the tip of
his sword. After impaling itself, the beast slid down the blade clawing and biting at the
gladiator's head. The other two beasts, surprised by the maneuver, sailed past and met the
creature that had been lurking behind the boulder.

Rikus released the sword and dropped to the ground, allowing the saurian to land on top of
him. The beast feebly raked the mul's flanks and opened more than a dozen shallow
scratches, then gave its death shudder and fell motionless. At the same time, from behind
Rikus came several moments of scratching and roaring as the other two lirrs battled
whatever had jumped at the mul from the rocks.

A thick scale shattered loudly as it was struck, then a lirr howled in pain and fell
abruptly silent. Afraid that he would soon be facing whatever had killed the beast, Rikus
crawled from beneath the lirr he had killed and pulled his sword free of its body.

When he looked up, he saw a cyclone of flashing arms and claws as a thri-kreen grappled
with the last lirr. As Rikus watched, the hulking mantis-warrior managed to grasp the
saurian with three claws, then used his fourth hand to rip a scale off the beast's throat.
Finally, the insect-man bent down and inserted its mandibles into the exposed skin. The
lirr howled, then began to convulse as the thri-kreen's poison paralyzed it.

“K'kriq?” Rikus croaked, only half-lowering his sword.

The thri-kreen tossed the lirr on top of the other he had downed, then used two arms to
point at the one Rikus had slain. “Good kill,” said the mantis-warrior. “Lirr strong.”

“Why didn't you show yourself?” Rikus demanded. His parched throat ached with each word.

K'kriq's antennae curled at the question. “And ruin lirr hunt?”

* * * * *

“Give me another waterskin,” Neeva ordered, tossing aside the one Rikus had just drained.

It was just past dawn, and a short time ago K'kriq had walked into the oasis camp bearing
the mul's half-conscious form in his arms. Rikus now lay on a soft carpet of burgundy
moss, his head and shoulders cradled in Neeva's arms. The puffy yellow crown of a chiffon
tree shaded his face, and the honey-scent of its green blossoms filled his nose.

Over the mul's shoulders was a robe of soft hemp, which he had made K'kriq fetch before
bringing him into camp. Tamar's ruby still peered out from his chest, and Rikus had no
wish for his followers to see it. Several of those followers were gathered around him at
the
moment, including Styan, Caelum, Jaseela, and Gaanon. K'kriq had returned to the desert to
retrieve the lirr carcasses.

Caelum handed his waterskin to Neeva, but cautioned, “He shouldn't drink too much at onceÑ”

“He'll drink as much as he likes,” Neeva snapped, opening the skin's mouth and offering it
to Rikus.

The mul took the skin, but did not immediately lift it to his lips. His stomach was
bloated from the first one he had emptied, and he even felt a little dizzy.

“I told you to wait for me,” Rikus said, casting an accusing look at Neeva.

“We did,” Caelum offered. The dwarf raised his red eyes to meet the mul's, at the same
time laying his palm on Neeva's shoulder.

Rikus eyed the dwarf's hand bitterly. “That's strange. There was no one there when I came
out.”

“I waited five days, Rikus,” Neeva said, her ivory brow raised in mixture of apology and
anger.

The mul's jaw slackened. It seemed inconceivable that he had lain in Borys's coffin for
five days.

“I'm to blame,” Caelum said, stepping toward the mul. “I convinced Neeva you were dead.”

Rikus looked up, his eyes black pits of ire. He wasn't sure why the dwarf's admission made
him so angry, but there was no denying that it did. “I wouldn't get too close just yet,”
the mul growled.

Caelum's angular face betrayed no shock or fear. He remained standing in front of the mul.

“What did you want us to do?” Neeva demanded. “We couldn't get inside.”

“They could have waited for you as long as they wished,” Styan said, nodding to the mul.
“Under my command, the legion has been pursuing Maetan closelyÑ”

“And would have pursued him right to the gates of UrikÑ without ever attacking,” growled
Jaseela, sneering at the templar. She looked at Rikus straight-on, the beautiful half of
her face a dizzying contrast to the disfigured side. “They thought you were dead, Rikus.
What else would you have wanted them to do?”

“Nothing,” the mul snapped, looking away. “Neeva will tell me what happened while I was
gone.”

With the exception of Caelum, the others took the hint and quickly left. The dwarf,
however, acted as though it had not occurred to him that Rikus meant to dismiss him as
well as the others.

“Caelum, when I said I wanted to talk to Neeva, I meant without you here,” Rikus growled.

The dwarf looked up, his face a mask of perfect composure, then pointed at the wounds on
the mul's savaged leg. “I will call upon the sun to mend your wounds.”

“No,” the mul said. After hearing the dwarf admit that he had convinced Neeva to abandon
her vigil at the citadel, and seeing how he had squeezed the woman's shoulder, the thought
of allowing Caelum to touch him annoyed Rikus no end. “Not now.”

“It's best if I heal you immediately,” the dwarf said, raising a hand toward the sun.
“You're losing strength by the minute.”

Rikus shoved the dwarf away. “I won't have you touching me,” he shouted.

“The heat has affected your mind,” Neeva said.

“Has it?” Rikus demanded. “He's the one who told you to leave me behind! Why should I want
his help now?”

Without a word, Neeva pinned Rikus into her lap. “Lie down and let Caelum use his
magicÑthe legion can't wait here long enough for you to recover on your own.”

The dwarf lifted his hand to the sky again, and soon it was glowing red. Knowing that what
Neeva said was true, Rikus looked away and allowed Caelum to touch him. It felt as though
the cleric had poured molten steel into the veins.

When Rikus looked back, the flesh was fiery red. Trying to take his mind off the pain, he
asked, “What of Maetan?”

“Styan managed to keep him from returning to Urik, but he's retreated into a village
called Makla,” Neeva answered.

Rikus cursed. “I know the village,” he said, his teeth clenched against the pain in his
leg. “It's a supply base for quarry gangs. It's protected by a small Urikite garrison.”

As the wounds on Rikus's leg closed, Caelum removed his hand and reached up to open the
mul's robe. Rikus caught him quickly. “No. These wounds need no attention.”

Caelum scowled. “Animal scratches are the most dangerous of all,” he said. “And from the
ichor staining the robe, I'd say these have already gone foul. If I don't attend to them
now, the poison could kill you.”

Rikus shook his head. “I'll be fine,” he said. “And I've had about as much healing as I
can stand for one day.”

“Don't be a fool,” Neeva snapped.

Before Rikus could stop her, she jerked his robe open. Beneath it were the scratches the
lirrs had inflicted on him,È burn in the center of his chest that had already started to
heal, and, on his left breast, a festering sore about the size of a coin.

At its base, the inflamed sore glowed bright scarlet, but the skin around the rupture's
lip had turned an ugly dark green. From the center of the wound oozed a steady flow of
yellow purulence that almost obscured the red face of the ruby lodged in its center. From
deep within the gem glowed a tiny spark of crimson light that drew the eyes of both Caelum
and Neeva straight toward it.