Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 2 - The Crimson Legion (28 page)

Rikus turned to Gaanon. “Smash the casks.”

A storm of protest rose from those near enough to hear, but the half-giant hefted his club
and waded through the crowd to carry out his orders. Several men stepped in front of
Gaanon as if to stop him, but a threatening glance from the huge gladiator was enough to
clear them out of his way.

“Listen to me!” Rikus called, raising his arms for silence.

The crowd paid him no attention. Gaanon's club came down on the first cask, and rich red
wine flooded the square. An angry outburst of shouting and screaming erupted around Rikus.

“We're not templars!” cried the tarek. His flat nose was flaring in anger and the lips of
his domed muzzle were drawn back to reveal his sharp fangs. “You can't treat us like this!”

The gladiator stepped toward Gaanon, clearly meaning to stop him from destroying any more
casks. Behind him came two human men.

Rikus lashed out at the tarek, striking his throat with stiffened fingers. The stunned
gladiator collapsed immediately, choking and grasping at his damaged larynx. When even
that did not stop those following him, Rikus delivered a powerful side-thrust kick to the
ribs of the next man in line, simultaneously unsheathing the Scourge of Rkard. “The next
man will feel my blade!”

The area fell abruptly silent.

“Good,” the mul said. “Now listen carefullyÑwe don't have much time. Maetan should have
been inside this village with a fair-sized army, but he wasn't. My guess is that he's
moving to attackÑwhile we quaff down the wine he left to keep us occupied!”

The gladiators remained absolutely silent, their eyes fixed on Rikus and their mouths
hanging open in astonishment. Though the reaction was more extreme than what the mul had
anticipated, he counted himself lucky that they were no longer preoccupied with the wine.

“If we don't want to be trapped, we've got to sack the town and leaveÑfast!” Rikus
continued. He gestured at a mob of about thirty gladiators. “You're our lookouts. Go to
the wall and report back when you see any sign of Maetan's army. The rest of you, fill
your waterskins, then find what food you can and burn everything else.”

Instead of obeying, the gladiators started to back away, staring at Rikus's chest and
murmuring to each other in frightened tones. Even Gaanon had fallen speechless, and, with
a look of utter betrayal, simply stared at the mul.

Rikus looked down and saw that, during his scuffle with the tarek, his robe had fallen
open. Now, the ulcerous wound on his breast lay fully exposed and oozing yellow ichor.
Worse, a scintillating red light shone from the ruby in its center.

Rikus pulled his robe back over the wound, silently cursing the tarek who had caused him
to expose the magical gem.

“What magic is that?” Gaanon asked, half-consciously taking a step away from the mul. Like
many gladiators, the half-giant distrusted sorcery.

“It's nothing that will hurt you,” Rikus answered, speaking loudly enough for those
gathered around him to hear. “Now, do as I ordered.”

As the astonished gladiators slowly began to obey, Rikus started toward the eastern end of
the village, intending to open an escape route through the stockade.

The mul had taken no more than two steps when Styan caught up to him. “Where are you
going?” asked the templar.

“I'll tell you when the time comes,” Rikus replied, wondering if the old man had asked the
question so he could pass the information on to Maetan. “Until then, stay here. Don't give
anyone any orders, don't pour any more wine, and don't make me regret that your punishment
last night was so merciful.”

Crater of Bones

The Tyrian legion was making camp in a small, volcanic caldera filled with thousands upon
thousands of skeletons: dwarves, tareks, even half-giants and elves. Bones lay
everywhereÑpiled against the base of crater walls in dune-sized mounds, heaped in yellow
masses over sulfur-spewing steam vents, even packed into a fire-belching fissure that ran
down the center of the basin.

The Tyrians had dubbed the place the Crater of Bones, but so far no one had guessed the
reason for its existence. On three sides, the basin was surrounded by sheer cliffs. On the
fourth, it was blocked by a manmade wall of porous, lime-crusted blocks of stone. The gate
could only be closed and locked from the outside. Beyond that, there was no hint as to the
place's purpose. The skeletons seldom showed any sign of injuries, and they lay scattered
at random across the caldera, so that it seemed the inhabitants had died where they stood,
with no chance to flee or to fight.

After several moments of watching his warriors clear hones from small circles of ground,
Rikus turned away and looked in the opposite direction. Below him, a lava flow had cut a
mile-long channel straight down the ash-covering mountains of the Smoking Crown. The sheer
canyon ended in a delta of jagged rock that spilled into the steaming waters of the vast
Lake of Golden Dreams. On that delta waited Maetan and several thousand Urikite soldiers.

As he studied his enemy's camp, Rikus could not help sighing in regret. If he had opened
his escape route at the western end of Makla's stockade instead of the eastern, the
Urikites would not be camped upon the deltaÑand his legion would not be trapped in the
Crater of Bones.

Rikus's tactics in the village had worked well. He and his army had left Makla well ahead
of the Urikites, then trudged their way along the lakeshore, intending to circle around it
until they found a suitable site in which to confront the enemy. Unfortunately, the
terrain of the Smoking Crown had not been cooperative. After only a full day and night of
marching, their way had been blocked by a river of burning rock. They had been forced to
turn back, reaching the delta just ahead of the mindbender's forces.

With their warriors exhausted from what had become a thirty-hour forced march, Rikus's
lieutenants had counseled him to avoid a fight and flee into the mountains. Recognizing
the wisdom of their advice, the mul had led his soldiers up the narrow canyonÑand straight
into this dead-end crater. To leave, they would have to fight their way past the Urikites
below. Normally, the prospect would not have concerned the mul, but the situation was
worse than it would have been in Makla. No more than a dozen gladiators could attack from
the canyon at a time, and they would be surrounded on all sides by the entire Urikite
force.

A hollow clatter sounded from the other side of the wall. Rikus turned to see Neeva
carefully picking her way through the tangle of bones covering the crater floor. In one
hand, she carried a waterskin and in the other an obsidian short sword. Skewered on the
weapon's black blade was a round cactus about the size of Rikus's head.

Neeva stopped at the base of the wall, near the rope the sentries had rigged to make
scaling the barrier easier. “How about helping me up?” she called. Her eyes were drooping
and puffy, the result of a sleepless night of marching.

Rikus lay on his stomach and took the waterskin and the sword so Neeva could climb the
rope.

“What brings you up here?” Rikus asked, returning the sword with the cactus. The mul asked
the question in his warmest tone of voice, for he hoped that Neeva's presence meant she
had finally decided to forgive him.

“I came to see you,” Neeva said.

As Rikus resumed his seat, Neeva glanced suspiciously at the wound on his chest. “Does
that ruby relieve you of the need to sleep?”

Rikus pulled his robe over the sore. There was little point in trying to hide the gem any
more, but it bothered the mul when superstitious gladiatorsÑespecially NeevaÑpaid too much
attention to the notorious glowing stone.

“I still need to sleep,” Rikus finally answered. “But right now, I have other things to
do.”

“Like worry about Maetan and the Urikites?” Neeva asked, sitting at his side.

“I don't know if worry is the right word.”

“It's close enough,” Neeva said, a wry smile on her lips. She pulled her dagger and began
chopping the red, finger-length spines off the cactus.

“Where'd you get that?” Rikus asked.

“Drewet asked me to give it to you,” Neeva answered. “She wanted you to know she isn't
frightened by your glowing ruby.”

“That's good news,” Rikus said, relieved. “At least one gladiator still trusts meÑand a
pretty one at that.”

'Don't get any ideas,“ Neeva warned, slapping Rikus on the leg with the flat of her dagger
blade. A jeering grin crept across her lips, then she added, ”I guess you haven't changed
so much, after all."

“Me?” Ritas mocked, gesturing at Neeva. “You're the one who's been different. You'd think
something happened between you and Caelum while I was gone!”

By the way Neeva's face fell, he knew he had touched upon a tender subject. She looked
away and chopped the last of the spikes off the ball, leaving nothing but a
stubble-covered husk with a leathery skin. “I didn't come up here to talk about CaelumÑor
myself.”

“All right, what did you come to talk about?” Rikus demanded, holding his temper in check.

Neeva took the stripped cactus husk off her sword, then cut a small hole in the top. “I
just wanted to say that you saved our lives back in Makla. Jaseela thinks so, too, and so
does Caelum.”

“That makes three out of a thousand,” Rikus said, gesturing over his shoulders at the rest
of the legion. “Everyone else thinks I led them into a trap.”

“Not everyone,” Neeva answered, hardly glancing up, “You have the support of the templars.”

“The templars?” the mul asked, shaking his head in amazement. “You're joking.”

Neeva held the opened cactus toward him. “You know how templars are. They respect
strength,” she said. “When you punished Styan, you proved that you were stronger than him.”

“And the dwarves?” Rikus asked. He plunged his hand into the leathery husk and felt dozens
of little warm bodies slithering through his fingers.

“Dwarves are dwarves,” Neeva shrugged. “They're with you as long as you work toward their
focus.”

Ritas pulled a handful of white, scale-covered grubs out of the ball. “Nice and juicy,” he
said, picking out a thumb-sized wiggler and squeezing off its brown head.

Neeva sheathed her dagger, then placed the cactus husk in her lap. “It's the gladiators
you have a problem with. They don't like magic they can't understand. Sooner or later,
you're going to have to explain that glowing ruby in your chest. Why don't you start with
me?”

Rikus avoided an answer by placing the headless grub between his teeth and sucking out the
insides. It had a rich, gamey flavor a little too sweet for the mul's taste, but in the
Athasian desert a hungry man ate what was available.

Neeva pulled a handful of grubs out of the thornball. As she popped the head off one, she
said, “If you won't tell me about the gem, then tell me how we're going to get out of
here.”

“I don't know yet,” the mul admitted. “That's what I was up here thinking about.”

“At least you're still honest about
something
with me.” Neeva made a sour face as she consumed her first wiggler, then gestured for
Ritas to pass the water.

They ate in silence for several moments, tossing the empty grub skins into the
lime-crusted rocks at the base of the wall. Finally Neeva suggested, “Maybe we should ask
the others if they have any ideas.”

Rikus shook his head. “And risk what little confidence the gladiators have left in me?” he
asked. “Let me think about it for a while before I give Styan another chance to cause
trouble.”

Neeva remained thoughtful for a moment, then scraped her hand around inside the cactus and
emerged with the last dozen grubs. She gave half to Rikus, then tossed the empty husk into
the rocks. “Let's finish these and go for a walk.”

“I'm all for that,” he said eagerly.

No, you're not,
hissed a voice from deep inside him.
There will be no matings between you and any human, half-dwarf.

Before the mul could respond to Tamar, Neeva smacked Rikus lightly in the stomach. “I
meant we should sneak down the canyon and come up with some sort of plan,” she said,
giving him a sad smile. “I'm not going to lie with you any moreÑat least not until things
are better with us.”

“What things?” the mul demanded, checking to make sure his robe remained over Tamar's
ruby. “What do you want from me?”

“Three things that, apparently, you can't give me,” Neeva answered. “Trust, devotion, and
love.”

Inwardly, Rikus cursed Tamar for coming between him and his fighting partner. To Neeva, he
said, “I do trust you. When this is over, you'll understand.”

“Perhaps that's true,” Neeva allowed. “But what about love and devotion? You're not
devoted to any woman, not even Sadira.”

“What do you call our success as a matched pair?” Rikus demanded. “We've even stayed
together since we killed Kalak. If that's not devotion, I don't know what is.”

Neeva looked into the mul's eyes and smiled patiently. “Devotion is when someone else's
happiness matters to you more than your own,” she said. “What you're thinking of is
loyalty. You and I will always have that much.”

Rikus was silent for a time, then asked, “It's the dwarf, isn't it?”

Neeva dropped her gaze. “Caelum is there if I want him.”

The mere idea is disgusting,
Tamar hissed.
I should punish her for even considering it.

Ignoring the wraith, Rikus said, “You don't have to feel guilty about Caelum. I
understandÑa heart is capable of loving more than one person at a time.”

“Now you sound like Sadira,” Neeva said bitterly. “She's wrong. No one can love more than
one person at a timeÑat least not the way I want to be loved.”

“So, where does that leave us?” Rikus asked.

“That's up to you,” Neeva answered. “I'm still here if you want meÑbut be sure you know
what that means.”

Before Rikus could think of how to answer, Tamar said,
It's just as well. If she laid with you, I'd have to kill her. No decent woman would
let anything less than a full human touch her.