Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 2 - The Crimson Legion (29 page)

If Neeva comes to any harm, you'll never find out what happened to Borys,
Rikus threatened.
I'll stop looking for the book.

Don't toy with me,
the wraith replied.
You promised the dwarves. I could kill her for no good reason and you'd still recover
the book. Your pathetic dwarven blood would force you to do it.

“Rikus, what are you doing?” Neeva asked.

To his surprise, the mul realized that he had reached under his cloak and was
absent-mindedly scratching at his ulcerating sore, trying to pry the ruby from where it
was lodged. He pulled his hand away and closed his robe once more. “Nothing,” he answered.
“The wound bothers me sometimes.”

Neeva stood and took him by the arm. “Come on.”

Rikus jerked away. “You mustn't touch me,” he said, not wishing to test the seriousness of
Tamar's threat.

Neeva frowned, showing her hurt. “Don't act like a child,” she said. “It had to come to
this sooner or later. Being free means you have the right to choose for yourselfÑit
doesn't mean you can have everything you want.”

Rikus returned to his feet, holding his cloak tightly closed. “This doesn't have anything
to do with being free, or with whether I can love both you and Sadira,” the mul said,
maintaining a careful distance between himself and Neeva. “It's for your own good. You
mustn't touch me.”

Neeva stepped toward the rope. “If that's the way you want it,” she said.

“It's not the way I want it,” Rikus answered, following. “It's the way it has to beÑfor
now.”

Neeva stopped and turned toward him, an expression of sudden understanding and relief on
her face. “It's the ruby, isn't it?” she said. “It has some sort of control over you.”

Deny it,
the wraith ordered.

Why?
Rikus objected.
What does it matter if she understands that much?

Rikus's vision blurred for a moment. When it cleared again, he saw Tamar's dark features
and narrow eyes where Neeva's face had been a moment earlier. The mul was confused for a
moment, but he soon realized that the wraith was using her control over his mind to trick
him into seeing her form where Neeva was standing.

“It's what I want,” said Tamar, her wide lips moving as she spoke. Her control over the
illusion was so complete that it seemed to Rikus that he heard her voice with his ears,
not just his mind. “That's all you need to know.”

Remembering how the Scourge had helped him sort through Tamar's deceptions after Caelum
had tried to remove her gem, Rikus gripped the hilt of his weapon. “She frightens you,
doesn't she?” the mul said to the wraith.

The figure standing before Rikus once again became Neeva. “Who am I afraid of?” she asked,
nervously eyeing the mul's sword hand.

Rikus did not answer. Instead, he kept his attention focused inside his mind, where Tamar
stood on a rock wall identical to the one beneath his feet, save that it seemed to
continue forever across an endless lake of red, frothing fire.
If Neeva frightened me, she would be dead already,
the wraith informed him.
Tell her that the ruby has no control over you.

“Neeva, go on,” Rikus said, refusing to do as the wraith demanded. As long as Neeva
understood that he had little control over what he revealed about the ruby, there was a
good chance that she would eventually forgive him for his silence. “I'll see you later.”

Fool!
Tamar growled.

Great
arcs
of fire began to shoot from the red lake inside the mul's mind. Rikus dropped to his
knees, crying out in agony. It felt as though his heart had changed to a flaming ball that
pumped lava through his veins.

“Rikus!” Neeva cried, moving toward him.

“Go!” the mul bellowed, pointing at the rope.

Neeva eyed his hand, which continued to grip the hilt of his sword. After a quick glance
at the ugly scar across her belly, she retreated slowly. “I'll get help.”

Rikus shook his head. “I don't need it.”

The mul turned his attention inward, imagining that the black wall upon which Tamar stood
had changed into a log. It burst into flames and crumbled to ash in an instant, plunging
the wraith into the fiery lake.

A malevolent cackle filled Rikus's head, then Tamar's form emerged from the lake, flaming
and twice as large as before. She smiled, then stepped closer. Everything went red, and
the mul's skin began to sizzle and smoke. He screamed in searing agony and pitched
forward, tumbling off the wall.

As the mul fell, the lake of fire faded from his mind and he realized that he was tumbling
head over heels into the Crater of Bones. He landed on his back, the thick mantle of
skeletons breaking his fall with a loud clatter.

Defy me again and die,
Tamar said, no longer visible inside Rikus's head.
Your corpse might be more useful to me without your insolent spirit inside it.

Neeva, who had slid down the rope while Rikus was not paying attention, started toward
him. “Rikus! Are you hurt?”

“I'm fine,” he answered, struggling to his feet.

Neeva stopped a step away, visibly restraining herself from touching him. “I won't ask any
questions,” she said. “Just say you'll tell me what's going onÑ”

“When I can,” Rikus finished for her. “Until then, you'll have to trust me. Now, why don't
you go back to camp? I'll take that walk alone.”

The mul began picking his way through the bones and walked out the narrow gate, his mind
as troubled by all the things he could not tell Neeva as by his legion's poor position.
Outside, the canyon ran straight and narrow down to the Lake of Golden Dreams, a pair of
sheer cliffs serving as its walls. Even at their lowest points, the crags were several
hundred feet high, and there were no gullies or ravines along the way that could be used
to climb out of the narrow passageway.

An idea occurred to Rikus. He stepped to the cliff and used his dagger to scrape away some
of the white crust. Underneath, he found a black, porous rock resembling a loaf of dark,
coarse-grained bread. He looked back to the wall, wondering what tools its builders had
used to shape their blocks. If he could figure out that puzzle, he thought he could spare
his legion a disastrous battle.

As the mul started forward to inspect the wall more closely, he heard the disgruntled
voices of a large crowd moving toward the gate from inside the crater. Curious as to the
cause of the commotion, Rikus went to meet them.

When the mul stepped through the gateway, he saw Styan leading a mob of gladiators toward
him. “By the light of Ral!” he cursed.

Rikus drew the Scourge of Rkard and started forward, stumbling and staggering through the
bones as he marched toward Styan. Behind the templar came half of the gladiatorial
company, among them the wine-loving tarek who had tried to defy Rikus back in Makla. To a
warrior, they all carried their weapons and had sour expressions on their faces.

A mutiny!
hissed Tamar.
I will put an end to their defiance No,
Rikus returned.
Let me handle this.

As he approached Styan, the mul grabbed the templar with one hand and pressed the tip of
his sword under the old man's chin with the other. “I should have done this two nights
ago.”

“Please,” Styan gasped, his sunken eyes opened wide in fear. “This isn't what you think.”

“What is it?” Rikus demanded, not releasing the templar.

“These gladiators came to me,” he said. “They asked me to talk to you.”

“You're lying,” Rikus said, scowling at the gladiators gathered behind the templar. “They
can talk to me themselves. They know that.”

“Maybe before that ruby sprouted in your chest,” said the tarek. “But you're a different
man now.”

There are too many of them for you to discipline alone,
Tamar observed.
I will summon help.

You can do that?

Tamar cooed,
It will take my fellows but a few moments to reach us.

Leave them!
Rikus commanded, trying to imagine the disaster that would follow if Tamar's fellow
wraiths appeared and threatened his gladiators.
This is my legion. I can control it.

That remains to be seen,
Tamar said.

When the wraith offered no further comment, Rikus released Styan and pushed him away.
“Talk.”

The templar smoothed his cassock, then glanced over his shoulder at the men behind him.
“These gladiators have no wish to stay here and starve,” he said, his voice gaining
confidence. “They're going to fight past the Urikires.”

“And you're going to lead them?” Rikus asked, a contemptuous sneer on his lips. “They've
asked me to organize them, yes,” he answered. “No,” Rikus said, simply. “You can tell them
no.” Styan grimaced, then looked at the ground. “They won't accept that answer.”

“Do you take me for an imbecile?” Rikus yelled, stepping forward and laying the edge of
his blade against the man's throat. To Rikus, this incident confirmed the templar to be
Maetan's spy. “Don't think I'm blind to your purpose, traitor!”

Styan began to tremble. “What do you mean?” he gasped, “How do you pass your messages to
Maetan?” the mul demanded. “The Way?”

A comprehending light dawned in the templar's eyes. “You think I betrayed us!” he gasped.

“And you've proven it,” Rikus growled.

Styan shook his head. “No,” he said. “Not me. Maetan's servant came to me, but I tried to
destroy herÑI would not betray Tyr!”

“Do you think I'm stupid?” Rikus demanded, raising his sword.

Before the mul could strike, the tarek stepped forward, a double-bladed axe in his hands.
“If you kill him, you'll have to kill me, as well.”

“And me,” said a broad-shouldered man hefting a huge spiked club.

“Me too,” added another gladiator, then another and another.

Hardly able to believe his eyes, Rikus shoved the templar to the ground and planted a foot
on his throat. “Two nights ago, this man had you stacking rocks while his templars laughed
and joked around the campfire,” Rikus said. “Now you're defending him?”

“He was the only one who would agree to their plan,” said Neeva, appearing from around the
edge of the mob. As she waded through the bones, she waved her axe at several figures
following her: Jaseela, Caelum, Gaanon, and K'kriq. “None of us would listen to their
foolishness.”

Rikus furrowed his brow and looked at the templar. “This wasn't his idea?”

“It doesn't matter whose idea it was!” growled the tarek.

“We're free men, and we're leaving.”

“We'll die in battle before we starve like cowards,” added another.

“I am in command!” Rikus snapped. “You willÑ”

The musty smell of mildew and rot filled the mul's nostrils, and he stopped speaking in
midsentence. An instant later, he noticed the gray silhouettes of eleven wraiths swimming
through the bones beneath his feet. Their eyes were glowing in a variety of familiar,
gemlike colors: citrine yellow, sapphire blue, topaz brown, and more.

Tamar, no!

Your warriors must learn to fear you,
she responded.

As the gray shadows passed beneath the gladiators' feet, the Tyrians cried out in
astonishment and alarm. The tarek cast an accusing glare at Rikus.

“What magic is this?” he demanded.

Before the mul could answer, the sun-bleached skeletons of long dead figures began to rise
in the middle of the throng. Clinging to these bones like long-forgotten coverings of
flesh were the gray forms of the wraiths.

In front of the tarek rose a skeleton with glowing, citrine-yellow eyes. As the
abomination reached for his throat, the gladiator screamed and used his axe to lop both
hands off at the forearms. The wraith adjusted its attack and thrust the jagged ends of
the skeleton's arms into its foe's meaty throat.

The tarek was not the only gladiator to fall. Dozens of Tyrians lashed out at the
shambling skeletons, bashing skulls, hacking off arms, shattering whole racks of ribs.
Nothing helped. The wraiths ignored the damage and struck back with the jagged ends of
their fleshless limbs. Within moments, fifteen warriors lay in the bones, groaning in
agony or simply watching their life blood drain away.

Neeva and those with her rushed into the fray. Rikus quickly lost sight of the others, but
he saw Neeva splinter a skeleton from head to pelvis with a downward stroke of her mighty
axe. Her effort was to little avail. The wraith simply abandoned the shattered skeleton in
favor of another one, then rose stiffly from the piled bones to counterattack.

“Go back!” Rikus called, stepping past Styan. “If you want to live, return to camp!”

The mul did not need to repeat himself. As he went forward, the gladiators retreated with
horrified expressions, some begging him to stay away and others cursing his name. Rikus
ignored them and stumbled toward Neeva as fast as he could. Before he reached her, a
skeleton rose at her side and thrust a broken shard of hand into her ribs. She screamed
and spun around to hit the thing with the flat of her axe blade, but Rikus reached it
first and used the Scourge to slice its legs from beneath it.

“Rikus, what did you do?” Neeva cried, running her gaze over the dead and dying gladiators
strewn over the bones “What are these monsters?”

Two more skeletons rose at her side.

“Go!” Rikus yelled, shoving her toward camp.

In the same instant, Caelum stepped out of the crowd, on hand raised toward the sun and
the other pointed at Neeva. “Away!” he cried.

A crimson light flared from his palm, illuminating everything before it in a wash of
blinding scarlet. The two wraiths flanking Neeva hissed and shrieked in agony, then dove
back into the bones and shot away.

Inside Rikus's breast, Tamar's ruby began to sear the inflamed flesh of his wound. The mul
felt as though his chest had been pierced by a bar of newly forged iron. Screaming, Rikus
turned away to shield the wound from the dwarf's spell. The pain eased, but did not go
away entirely.

Run! Run! Hide us from the sunflame!
For once, Tamar was pleading, not ordering.