Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 3 - The Amber Enchantress (3 page)

“Done,” Rikus said, retrieving their empty waterskins.

When Sadira and Agis also nodded, the dwarf motioned them past the gate. After explaining that Lyanius had returned to his duties, Caelum led the group into the village itself.

They moved quickly down a narrow avenue, flanked on both sides by the red flagstone walls of dozens of round huts. The structures stood barely as high as Sadira's chin, with no roofs to shade the busy inhabitants from the blazing sun. The sorceress could look down into the interior of each building and see that all were arranged in a similar fashion. Near the east wall was a round table with a trio of curved benches, while a set of stone beds stood near the west. Hanging close to the door of each family's hut were a battle axe, a short sword, and a spiked buckler
—
all forged from gleaming steel and freshly polished.

Sadira was about to comment on the priceless weaponry when they reached the village plaza, a circle of open ground paved with crimson sandstone. In the center stood a windmill, its sails slowly spinning in the hot breeze. With each rotation, the mill pumped a few gallons of cool, clear water into a covered cistern.

Despite her thirst, Sadira hardly noticed the well. Her attention was fixed on the far side of the plaza, where dozens of dwarves were sorting and polishing a small mountain of tarnished steel armor.

“By the moons!”
Sadira gasped. On Athas, metal was more precious than water, and the mound of armor represented an unimaginable treasure. “Where did all that come from?”

“From Kemalok, of course,” Neeva said. She gestured at the mountain of sand north of the village.

From what Rikus had told her earlier, Sadira knew that her friend referred to the ancient city of kings, which the dwarves were excavating beneath the dune. Although the mul had said that it was full of steel weapons and armor, the sorceress had not imagined it to be anything like this.

“Even at his wealthiest, Kalak himself would have envied that fortune,” Sadira said.

“Which is why Lyanius didn't want to let us into the village,” Agis surmised.

Caelum nodded. “Yes. You arrived at an inopportune time,” he said “We brought the armor out of its vault only yesterday and were unprepared to receive visitors. I trust you'll keep what you see here to yourselves?”

“Of course they will,'' Neeva said peevishly. ”Didn't I tell you that Sadira and Agis are as trustworthy as Rikus?"

“Please,” Agis said, raising his hand. Caelum's caution is understandable. If word of Kled's wealth spreads, the sorcerer-kings themselves will send armies to steal it."

“I'm glad you understand,” Caelum said. He gestured at the waterskins hanging from Rikus's shoulders. “Leave those here, and I'll see that they're filled.”

As the mul complied, he asked, “Does this mean Lyanius wasn't telling the truth about Er'Stali's health?”

Neeva shook her head. “I'm sorry, but no.”

“A tribe of raiders attacked the village a few weeks ago,” Caelum said. “Er'Stali insisted on helping us defend the gate, and he was wounded.”

With that, the dwarf led the way up a narrow lane to a large hut covered by a makeshift roof of lizard hides. Neeva paused outside the door curtain and called inside to ask if Er'Stali would receive visitors.

“I'm working,” answered a weak voice.

“We've come from Tyr,” Sadira said. “We need your help.”

A long sigh sounded from inside. “Come on, then.”

“Caelum and I will see to your waterskins and provisions,” Neeva said, holding the curtain aside for Sadira and her companions.

Before they could enter the hut, Caelum said, “Please don't stay long. Er'Stali's trying to set down all he can remember of the Book of Kings. Every minute is precious.”

“Which is to say, I could die any time,” the old man's voice growled. He broke into a fit of coughing, then gasped, “Now, come in and ask me your questions
—
before it's too late.”

Sadira stepped through the doorway. Pale sunlight shone through the hide roof, bathing the hut in a rosy glow. At the table hunched a skinny old man, swathed in ichor-stained bandages from neck to waist. He had a wispy white beard, gray eyes glazed with fatigue, and a face etched with deep lines of pain. On his forehead was a faded tattoo of a double-headed serpent. Both of the snake's mouths were filled by long, wicked-looking fangs.

Sadira recognized the mark as the Serpent of Lubar, the crest of a noble Urikite family. She knew the emblem from the personal standard of Maetan of Lubar, the Urikite general whom King Hamanu had sent to invade Tyr the year before. During the war, Maetan had stolen the Book of the Kemalok Kings from the dwarves, and Rikus had promised to recover it. Unfortunately, the book had not survived, but the mul had managed to kill Maetan and return to Kled with the only living person who had read it
—
Er'Stali.

The old man did not even look up as Sadira and the others entered his hut. Instead, he kept his attention focused on his table, using a wooden stylus to scratch at one of the dozens of diptychs scattered around the room. The clay tablets filled the air with a musty smell and were stacked everywhere: in his cabinet, on the benches next to Er'Stali, beside his bed, and all across the floor.

The old man held up a finger to keep them silent, then finished scoring his next thought onto the tablet. Finally, he looked up and squinted. “Who are you?”

Rikus stepped forward, to where Er'Stali's view of him would not be obscured. “They're friends of mine,” the mul answered.

“Rikus!''
Er'Stali gasped. ”How good to see you again! What are you doing back in Kled?"

“We're hoping you might have the answer to a problem we face,” the mul explained.

“Perhaps I do,” the old man said, grimacing at some pain deep within his body. He dipped his stylus into the bowl of water, then cleaned the end on a cloth. “What problem is that?”

“We've learned that the Dragon will soon visit Tyr, said Agis. ”Our king intends to sacrifice a thousand people to him."

Er'Stali's stylus slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. “Then I suggest you let him,” the old man said. “Better a thousand lives than the entire city.”

“No,” Sadira answered, shaking her head. “Tyr stands for freedom. If we yield to the Dragon's demand, we'll be no better than any other city.”

“Can you remember anything from the Book of the Kemalok Kings that might help us?” asked Rikus. “The Dragon must have a weakness.”

“If Borys has any weaknesses, they were not described in the Book of Kings,” Er'Stali snorted. Nevertheless, he rose and, bracing himself on the mul's arm, shuffled over to the tablets next to his bed.

“Borys?” asked Sadira. Rikus had mentioned the name to her, but had not identified it as that of the Dragon. “I thought Borys was the Thirteenth Champion
—
”

“Of Rajaat,” Er'Stali finished, moving a stack of tablets aside. “Yes. He is also the Dragon.” The old man looked up at Rikus. “You remember the story Rkard's specter told us, do you not?”

“Yes,” Rikus said. He looked to his friends, then explained, “Er'Stali was reciting the story of the battle between Borys of Ebe and Rkard, the last of the dwarven kings. According to what Er'Stali had read, both Borys and Rkard died after the fight.”

“But the ghost of King Rkard appeared to tell us the account was wrong. Borys and the Dragon returned years later to destroy the city,” Er'Stali added. “Unfortunately, Rkard vanished before I could ask about the relationship between the two, but I have found an account that clarifies it.”

The old man sat down on his bed, then laboriously searched through a pile of tablets until he found the one he wanted. “If the Book of Kings has any help for you, it will be here,” he said. “It's the last story, set down by a scribe who returned to Kemalok long after Borys destroyed the city. As I recall, the hand was jittery and frail. Leaving the tale in the book of his ancestors may well have been his dying act.”

Er'Stali read: “The day came when Fo'orsh and Sa'ram returned to Kemalok and saw what Borys had done to the city of their forebears. Both men swore to track down the butcher and destroy him. They set off for the mighty Citadel of Ebe with all their retainers and squires. When they reached his stronghold, however, they found it long abandoned, occupied now only by a handful of wraiths patiently awaiting the return of their master. These, Fo'orsh interrogated with the Way of the Unseen, learning that Borys had mysteriously lifted the siege of Kemalok just when it appeared it would succeed. He had sent his army back to the Citadel of Ebe and left for the
Pristine
Tower
, the stronghold of Rajaat himself, to meet the other champions.”

Er'Stali looked up from his tablet to add an explanatory note. “The Book of Kings did not name all of these champions, but from what I can tell, each was to annihilate an entire race, much as Borys tried to destroy the dwarves. I have seen references to Albeorn, Slayer of Elves, and Gallard, Bane of the Gnomes.”

“Gnomes?” asked Rikus.

“The book doesn't say what they are,” answered Er'Stali The old man looked back to the tablet, then continued reading. “Fo'orsh and Sa'ram left the Citadel of Ebe and traveled with their retainers into the wild lands beyond the Great Lake of Salt until they sighted a spire of white rock in the distance. Here, all manner of horrid guardians appeared. They left their squires and retainers in a safe place, then continued to the white mountain alone. When they entered the Pristine Tower, they found that, like the Citadel of Ebe, it was abandoned, save for the shadow giants
—
”

Sadira noticed Rikus's face go pale, so she asked, “What do you know of these shadows?”

The mul shrugged. “Maybe nothing, but during the war with Urik, Maetan sometimes summoned a shadow-giant that he called Umbra,” the mul said. “The thing wiped out an entire company by himself?”

As Rikus spoke, Er'Stali began to wheeze. He feebly clutched at his bandages, as if they were squeezing his ribs and making it difficult to breath.

“I'll get Caelum,” Rikus said, starting for the door.

“No,” Er'Stali croaked, waving him back. “He's done all he can today.”

Fearing that the stress of their visit had weakened the old man, Sadira said, “Perhaps we should let you rest and come back later.”

Er'Stali shook his head, uttering, “Later, I might be dead
—
just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

They waited several moments for the old man to regain control of his breathing. Finally, pausing at short intervals to gasp for air, he began to read again.

“Here Sa'ram met the shadows, whom he bribed with obsidian. They told him that Rajaat and his champions had argued over the annihilation of the magical races, then fought a terrible battle against each other. By the time it had ended, Rajaat ruled the Pristine Tower no more. He was taken to the Steeple of Crystals and forced to use its arcane artifacts to make Borys into the Dragon.”

“To make Borys into the Dragon?”
Rikus gasped.

Er'Stali nodded. “Now you know all the Book of Kings says about the Dragon.”

“It's not much help,” said Rikus.

“What happened to Rajaat and the other champions after Borys became the Dragon?” asked Agis.

“The book did not say,” Er'Stali answered, wearily. “Jo'orsh and Sa'ram left the tower and sent their squires home. They were never seen again, but, obviously, they did not slay Borys.”

“That's all?” asked Agis, incredulous. “The champions helped Borys become the Dragon, then disappeared without resuming their attacks on the other races?”

Er'Stali shrugged. “Who can say? You already know that after Rajaat's fall, Borys returned as the Dragon to attack Kemalok. It also seems that Gallard destroyed the gnomes
—
I have never seen one, have you?” When Agis shook his head, the old man continued. “Perhaps the other champions fell against Rajaat, or perhaps they were too weak to fight any longer. All I can say is that the book ends with the disappearance of Jo'orsh and Sa'ram.”

The old man returned the tablet to its place.

Rikus turned to Sadira and Agis. “I'm sorry,” said the mul. “It was a wasted trip.”

Sadira frowned. “How can you say that?” she demanded. “We don't have the answers we need, but we know where to look.”

“The Pristine Tower?” queried Rikus.

Sadira nodded. “If we are to learn more of Borys, we will learn it there.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” said Agis. “Even if we knew where to find it, we can't be sure the place still stands.”

“The Pristine Tower still stands, far beyond Nibenay,” said Er'Stali. “The elves know where.”

“What makes you so certain?” asked Rikus.

“Because the shadow-giant you mentioned came from there,” Er'Stali explained. “In exchange for Umbra's services, Maetan hired a tribe of elves each year to lead a caravan loaded with obsidian balls to the Pristine Tower. The caravan drivers never returned, but Umbra always appeared when Maetan summoned him. I assume the obsidian reached the tower.”

Sadira gave Agis a haughty smile. “You see?” she asked. “We'll go to Nibenay and hire a guide in the Elven Market.”

“The journey could take a month, even longer!” Rikus objected.

“Which is why we must hurry,” Sadira countered. “We don't know how soon the Dragon will come to Tyr, and it would be best if we returned to the city as quickly as possible.”

“And what do you hope to accomplish at the tower?” Agis demanded.

“What we failed to accomplish here,” Sadira answered. To learn enough about the Dragon to defy him. Besides, if we're lucky, we might even find some relics in the Steeple of Crystals that can help us."

“Forgive me for saying so,” said Agis, “but I suspect that's the real reason you want to go to the
Pristine
Tower
.”

Sadira frowned. “What do you mean?”

He means that when you smell magic, nothing else matters,“ Rikus said. ”Not even Tyr."

“That's not true!” Sadira retorted. “I love Tyr more than my own life!”

The mul shook his head. “It's magic you love,” he said pointing at the cane in Sadira's hand. “Otherwise, you'd have returned Nok's staff by now.”

“We'll need it to deal with the Dragon,” the sorceress countered angrily. “And if you had kept the Heartwood Spear-”