Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 2 - The Crimson Legion (3 page)

After descending half-a-dozen steps, they found themselves in a corridor where the smoke
was not so thick. On the walls hung a series of nets. Each held a glass ball that swung in
time to the rhythmical sway of the wagon, casting a flickering green light over the floor.

The hall ran a dozen yards to both the right and left, then turned toward the front of the
wagon. The mul motioned for the first squad of gladiators to follow him and his companions
into the narrow hall. “Tell those behind you to go the other way,” he ordered.

They started down the corridor at a cautious jog. Upon rounding the first corner, Rikus
came face-to-face with ten Urikites carrying leather fire-blankets. The mul cut down the
first three before they could reach for their weapons, but not before they screamed an
alarm. The rest fell into a deep slumber as one of Sadira's spells dropped a blue cloud of
magical powder over their heads.

“Easier than I thought,” Rikus observed. “Maybe we'll take this argosy back to Tyr as a
battle prize.”

Agis shook his head, saying, “Your victory declaration is hasty. The battle just grew more
challenging.”

The mul faced forward to see a hulking thri-kreen stomping toward him. The huge insect-man
stood so tall that his short antennae brushed the ceiling, and as he moved forward his
yellow carapace knocked the glowing balls from both walls. He held weapons in three of his
four armsÑa whip, an obsidian short sword, and a gythka, a short pole-arm with blades of
crystal rock at both ends.

“Sadira?” Neeva asked hopefully.

“I can't do anything without killing us, too,” the sorceress answered. “Give me some
room,” Rikus said. “I'll aid you with the Way,” Agis said, motioning the rest of the group
back around the corner.

“I'd appreciate that.” Rikus gave the noble a nervous grin, then added, “Not that I need
help.”

Despite his brave words, the mul shared his companions' concern. As menacing as the
thri-kreen's four arms and weapons were, the beast's mouth posed the real danger. In his
days as gladiator, he had fought many mantis-warriors, and he knew that if he allowed the
thing to so much as nip him with a mandible, the beast's saliva would paralyze him. The
thri-kreen waded through the blue cloud of Sadira's sleep spell without suffering the
slightest hint of drowsiness. The mul set his cahulaks to whirling in an interweaving
pattern, then calmly awaited his foe's approach.

With little hesitation, the mantis-warrior jabbed the tip of his gythka at Rikus, also
lashing out with his whip. With one cahulak, the mul knocked the gythka aside and allowed
the thri-kreen's whip to wrap itself around his other cahulak. Rikus stepped forward,
moving into striking range for his weapons. The thri-kreen leveled a short sword at
Rikus's throat, and the mul ducked in time to keep the beast from lopping his head off.
Before Rikus could recover, the thri-kreen's clacking mandibles descended toward his neck.

Rikus dropped to his back and kicked upward with his heel, catching the mantis-warrior
square in the thorax. The blow would have smashed a man's chest, but it hardly even rocked
the thri-kreen. After a momentary pause, the chattering mandibles continued their descent,
dripping saliva over the mul's face. His heart pounding in fear, Rikus swung both cahulaks
at his foe's bulging eyes.

The mul's reach fell short and the bone blades smashed into the thing's snout, barely
scratching the beast's chitinous armor. Nevertheless, the attack gave the thri-kreen
pause, and he retracted his head, moving his vulnerable eyes out of Rikus's range. The mul
hammered his cahulaks at the carapace on his foe's chest, driving the huge insect off him.

“Don't kill him, Rikus!” Agis called.

“Why not?” Rikus demanded, standing.

“He's not entirely hostile,” the noble responded. “If I can help him, he'll help us.”

Rikus regarded the thri-kreen cautiously, waiting for Agis to make good on his promise.
The mantis-warrior seemed confused for a moment, then glared over the mul's shoulder and
rushed forward with his attention fixed on Agis. Realizing that the noble's mental contact
had done little more than distract the creature, Rikus took advantage of the moment to
dart forward and slip to the thri-kreen's side, where the mantis-warrior would have
trouble reaching him with both weapons and mouth.

Seeing Rikus slip into this dangerous position, the mantis-warrior stopped his charge and
used two arms to smash the mul into the wall. The blows drove the breath from Rikus's
lungs, filling his torso with a dull, crushing ache. The thri-kreen dropped his whip and
lashed out with the claws of a three-fingered hand. The mul barely saved his eye by
turning his head away, but the thri-kreen opened a jagged gash down his cheek.

Rikus struck at the beast's head, releasing the cahulak so he would have the range to
reach his target. This time, it was the thri-kreen's turn to duck, and the weapon passed
over the back of the thing's neck. As it reached the end of its rope, the cahulak circled
around and reappeared on the close side of the mantis-warrior's head. The mul caught the
shaft and tugged with all his might, pulling himself onto the thing's back. He started to
call for help, but never got the chance.

The thri-kreen stood upright and smashed him into the ceiling. The mul's cry ended with a
stifled groan. Rikus tried to cry out again, then gave up and settled for merely retaining
his hold. The mantis-warrior smashed the mul's aching back again and again into the
ceiling.

Taking advantage of the close combat, Neeva slipped around the corner with battle-axe
hefted. Agis grabbed her by the shoulder, preventing her from moving forward.

Rikus yelled, “What do you think you'reÑ”

The mul hit the ceiling again and his question came to an abrupt halt. Already, his spine
felt like it had been cracked in a dozen places and his arms burned with numb weariness.
Agis stepped past Neeva, his hands held out before him and his brown eyes fixed on the
thri-kreen's. All at once, the mantis-warrior stopped smashing Rikus against the ceiling.
The beast stared at Agis for a moment, then he dropped his weapons and lay down on the
floor. The nobleman continued forward, silently nodding to the mantis-warrior.

“Why'd you stop Neeva?” Rikus demanded, his breath coming in short gasps. “You could have
gotten me killed!” As the mul slipped his cahulak rope off the thri-kreen's neck, Agis
laid a restraining hand on the weapons. “But I didn't,” he answered, still staring at the
mantis-warrior. “The thri-kreen is a slave. Now that I've freed his mind from his master's
grip, he'll help us.”

Rikus looked doubtful and pulled his cahulaks free of the noble's grasp.

“C-Comrade,” chattered the mantis-warrior, speaking in the Urikite language. “Help you.”
Because he had been born and raised in the slave pits of a Urikite noble, Rikus understood
the mantis-warrior's words. Nevertheless, he remained suspicious.

“No one arms a thri-kreen slave,” he said. “Especially one that fights this well.”

“The argosy pilot's been using the Way to control his mind,” Agis explained, gently moving
the mul's weapons away from the thri-kreen. “K'kriq didn't want to attack us.”

“Kill d-driver, kill Ph-Phatim,” the thri-kreen stammered. “Help you.”

When Rikus still did not
agree, Agis said, “I was inside his mind. I'll vouch for him.”

Rikus reluctantly stepped away from the mantis-warrior. “Okay, fall into line,” he said.
In Urikite, he added, “But you do what I say, and no weapons.”

The thri-kreen opened his six-mandibles in a star-shaped gesture that could have been a
smile. “N-No regret,” he answered, also in Urikite.

The mul faced forward without replying. Normally, he would not have accepted a former
enemy into his group, but Agis was a true master of the Way. If he said the thri-kreen
could be trusted, Rikus believed him.

The mul led them toward the front of the wagon. As they moved, thick smoke began to roll
down the corridor from the rear of the argosy. Within a few moments, they could hardly see
the glow balls swinging in their nets, and chunks of burning wood began to drop from the
ceiling.

Soon, the small group reached the front cargo hold. The exterior doors had been opened to
vent the smoke, and, through the thickening fumes, Rikus saw a dozen Urikites standing
guard. After passing a whispered warning to those behind him, the mul charged out of the
smoke-filled corridor and hacked down the first guard from behind. Neeva leaped past him
with her battle-axe flying, taking down two more. K'kriq rushed past her and, unarmed,
killed five more in flurry of flashing claws and snapping mandibles. The four survivors
jumped from the argosy before Agis or Sadira struck a blow.

Rikus cast a nervous glance at the five men K'kriq had stricken down, then peered out of
the open cargo door. In the sands to the side and just ahead of the argosy, he saw the
waddling driks and their drivers trying to escape his legion. The war-lizards were not
faring well. Their low-centered bodies and heavy shells were not suited to speed. The
beasts' sluggishness was compounded by their loads, for the siege engines they carried
were made from sun-bleached mekillot bones, as large as trees and twice as heavy.

Already, a dozen driks lay toppled, flapping their heads and roaring helplessly, unable to
continue their escape on hamstrung legs. Another dozen beasts had dug into the sand and
were trying to defend themselves from the Tyrian warriors.

The mul was shocked to see that there were no Urikite regulars in view. While it was true
that the main body of soldiers had been far ahead of the attack, Rikus found it strange
they had not returned to join the fight.

K'kriq touched the mul's shoulder with a bloody claw, then pointed forward. “Kill Phatim,
s-stop Urikites,” the thri-kreen said. “No water, no food, no siege missiles.”

Rikus raised a brow, then said, “Lead the way.”

Agis caught the thri-kreen by a sticklike arm. “No,” he said. “We'll have to find the
driver ourselves.”

The mantis-warrior insisted, “M-Me kill Phatim.”

The noble shook his head. “If the pilot sees you, he'll take over your mind. Stay here and
help our warriors destroy the suppliesÑin case we can't stop the wagon.”

K'kriq snapped his six mandibles open and closed angrily, then turned and began hacking at
the interior cargo door.

Rikus assigned the gladiators to help K'kriq, then led his three companions forward.
Although the narrow corridor remained smoke-filled, it was not nearly so murky as the
section aft of the cargo door. By the light of the swaying glow balls, the mul could see
that, here and there, fumes were seeping through the planks in the ceiling.

The hallway turned toward the center of the wagon, and they came to a pair of
bronze-gilded doors, one on each side of the corridor. Both were secured with heavy iron
latches.

Rikus motioned at the door on the right. “Neeva, you check that one.”

The woman nodded, then smashed the door open with a single blow of her axe. She stepped
into the dark room beyond, Sadira following close behind.

Rikus kicked the other door open, then charged into the room beyond. He found himself
standing before a ladder leading up to a small deck overhead. Thick whorls of smoke
clouded the air.

“The pilot's deck,” Agis noted, coughing and rubbing his eyes.

The mul grabbed the ladder and climbed. As he moved higher, a streamer of smoke descended
and entwined itself around his neck. Rikus thought nothing of it until the tendril rubbed
across his skin like a coarse rope, then abruptly tightened. Instantly, the rush of blood
filled the mul's ears. His eyes felt like they would pop from his head, and he could no
longer draw air down his throat.

The mul jumped off the ladder and landed at Agis's feet. Falling to his knees, he dropped
his cahulaks and clutched at the tendril. His fingers sank through it like air.

“Rikus!” Agis cried.

The noble's voice seemed distant and faint. Rikus's vision went black.

To his surprise, the mul did not pass out. Instead, his consciousness turned inward, to
the terrain of his own mind. He saw himself kneeling on a featureless plain of mud, the
great tentacle of some horrid beast extruding from the wet earth, wrapping itself around
his throat. It was trying to pull him into the soggy ground, to suffocate him in the muds
of oblivion.

Rikus's stomach tightened with fear. He realized he was being attacked mind-to-mind, and
that knowledge only frightened him more. The mul was a master of physical combat, but when
it came to the Way, he was not even a novice.

Rikus fought back by trying to imagine himself hauling the tentacle from the mud. No
matter how hard he pulled, the beast was too strong for him. It bent his torso back,
kinking his spine until he feared it would snap.

The mul grabbed the tentacle and pulled with as much strength as his oxygen-starved body
could muster. He slowly managed to turn himself over and braced one arm against the muddy
ground. He used the other to dig, hoping to the dredge the slimy creature from its burrow.
Though he excavated a hole several feet deep, he found nothing but an endless tendril that
continued to pull him downward. Rikus bit the thing. It's blood burned his mouth like acid.

Then the mul grew aware of great, sloshing footsteps approaching from behind. He twisted
around to meet the new horror his attacker had sent to destroy him. If there had been
breath in his lungs, he would have sighed in relief. Standing before him was a familiar
figure, save that it now towered overhead in the massive form of a full-giant.

“Agis?” Rikus gurgled.

The giant nodded. “What have we here?” he boomed, stooping over to grasp the tentacle.

Agis the giant pulled the tendril from the ground effortlessly, freeing the mul's throat.
The writhing thing was nothing but a long gray tentacle. As Rikus watched, both ends
flattened out and a set of eyes appeared on the top side. Below each pair of eyes, a long
slit opened into a broad mouth filled with wicked fangs.