Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 2 - The Crimson Legion (42 page)

“Our great king soon died of his wounds, and with sad hearts we waited for Borys to
renew his assault. On the tenth day of the siege, the enemy broke camp and we knew that
Rkard had not struck his last blow in vain. Borys, too, had finally died of his woundsÑ”

“That is not what happened,” boomed a deep voice.

All eyes looked up and saw a short figure standing in the gallery that overlooked the
great hall. He wore a battered suit of black plate mail, trimmed at every joint in silver
and gold. A jewel-studded crown of gleaming white metal capped his helm, and two yellow
eyes burned from the depths behind his visor.

“Rkard!” gasped Rikus.

“The last king speaks!” cried a dwarf.

The hall was suddenly filled with astonished voices, all crying out in excitement.

Rkard's thunderous voice again quieted the dwarves. “That is what the keeper of the book
believed, but that is not what occurred.”

The room remained expectantly silent, but the ancient king simply stared down on the
gathering with his yellow eyes and said no more. Finally Er'Stali asked, “Will you tell us
the truth, great Rkard?”

The long-dead king fixed his eyes on the sorcerer. “I do not know why the host left that
dayÑperhaps Borys's wound was too severe, perhaps Rajaat had summoned the Thirteenth
Champion's army, or perhaps it was another reason entirelyÑbut Borys did not die on that
field. I know this because he returned many years later, to accomplish alone and in less
than an hour what his hosts had failed to do in ten days. He drained the life from all the
city's dwarves, leaving only ghosts to remember that Kemalok had been visited by the
Dragon.”

“The Dragon!” Rikus hissed. All around him, others also gasped or uttered astonished cries.

“It is good that you have returned to your home, my people,” Rkard said, his voice booming
over the commotion in the great hall. “But be watchful of BorysÑhe would not wish to see
Kemalok restored to its former glory.”

Rkard stepped back, disappearing into the murky depths at the rear of the gallery. The
dwarves, stunned by the ancient king's warning, remained in their seats.

Rikus rose immediately, disturbed by Rkard's dark words. Hamanu's remark about what would
happen when Tithian failed to deliver the city's slave levy to the Dragon was fresh in the
mul's mind, and now that he'd heard how the Dragon had destroyed the city of Kemalok, he
worried that Tyr itself might be in grave danger.

Removing the Belt of Rank and Scourge of Rkard from his waist, the mul stepped past
Er'Stali to Lyanius. “I was going to return these later, but it's time for me to go back
to Tyr,” he said, offering the artifacts to the old dwarf. “I'm sorry I didn't prove
worthy of them.”

Lyanius regarded Rikus for several moments, then his gaze dropped to the mul's breast. The
festering wound there had finally healed, leaving an ugly scar over Rikus's heart. “Caelum
told me what you did,” he said.

The mul forced himself to keep his eyes fixed on Lyanius's face. “I can't undo those
shameful deeds,” he said. “I can only return these.”

The old dwarf nodded, taking the belt and scabbard from Rikus's arms. “The book's loss is
a great one, but I cannot blame you for the decision you made,” Lyanius said, detaching
the Scourge of Rkard from the Belt of Rank. “At least you brought us Er'Stali, and what he
remembers of the book is more than I learned in all the years I studied it.”

After looking at the two items in his hands, Lyanius laid the Belt of Rank over his arm.
“We will take the belt back,” he said. “Perhaps, in time, there will come a dwarf who can
wear it better than you did.”

“I hope so,” Rikus replied.

“This, I want you to keep,” Lyanius said, returning the Scourge of Rkard to Rikus. “From
what Caelum says, in all of Athas, there is no warrior more worthy of it.”

The mul looked toward Caelum.

“Many harsh words have passed between us,” the dwarf said. “But I can't argue with what
you did to protect Neeva.”

“Given how badly I failed you,” Rikus said, “the Scourge of Rkard is a magnificent gift.”
The mul was so overcome by the dwarf's generosity that his words were barely more than a
whisper.

“It is a gift of which you are quite worthy,” said Lyanius. “Never doubt that. No one
should fault you for trying what few others would even dare to dream.”

“My thanks.” Rikus closed his eyes and inclined his head to the dwarf, wondering if he
would have been as charitable in Lyanius's place.

After a respectful pause, the mul turned to Neeva. “Will you come with me? I promise to be
more giving, to at least try to offer you the things you need from me.”

Neeva's emerald eyes filled with tears, and she gave the mul a weak smile. “I know you'd
try, but I've already made a promise of my own,” she said, moving to Caelum's side.

“Kled, and one day Kemalok, will be my home.”

Rikus nodded. “I wish you happiness.” He sighed deeply. “Losing you is like the guilt I
feel for the destruction of the legionÑit's the price of my failure.”

The mul turned to go, but Neeva caught his arm. “Don't feel too badly. You may be less one
lover and finally free of the notion you're a brilliant military mind, but that's only
because you've accepted the responsibilities that go with your destiny.”

The mul frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You told me that it was our destiny to protect Tyr from external dangers,” she said. “I
didn't choose that fate, but you did. Because of that decision, you mustn't think you
'lost' me or the legionÑno one took us from you. You sacrificed us for the sake of Tyr.”

“She speaks the truth,” Caelum said sincerely. “You led thousands who died for Tyr, but
they followed you willingly, knowing they might be killed. Few men would have had the
courage to let them die.” The dwarf bowed to Rikus. “With you as its guardian, the dream
of freedom will live in the city of Tyr forever.”