Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 3 - The Amber Enchantress (37 page)

Sadira continued to sprint forward, astonished by the speed with which fighting had broken out. Barely two seconds had passed since Borys had killed Lyanius, and already the defenders were fully engaged in combat. She considered the possibility of pausing long enough to cast a spell that would take her closer, but decided against doing so. At the rate things were going, by the time she stopped, uttered the incantation, and reoriented herself when she arrived, this battle might well have taken a drastic turn in a different direction.

The Dragon turned his head toward the group of sorcerers that had just attacked him. He opened his great beaklike mouth, then Sadira heard the swish of a prolonged intake of air. Agis dove away, yelling, “Take cover!”

With a deafening roar, a cone of white-hot sand blasted from Borys's mouth. He moved his head slowly from side to side, working his way down the entire hillside. As his gritty breath ignited purple spikeballs and scraped fans of goldentip from the hillside, horrid cries of agony and despair filled Sadira's ears. Men and women disintegrated into columns of greasy smoke, or had the flesh scoured from their bones by the sandy torrent.

Just as Sadira was beginning to fear the stream would consume Agis, Rikus rushed to the edge of the gate tower. With a bellow of rage, he swung his sword at Borys's stomach. The blade struck with a mighty clang, spraying blue sparks in all directions. As it sliced across the Dragon's midriff, red smoke and yellow-glowing blood spilled from the wound.

Borys closed his mouth, cutting off the terrible stream of hot sand, and glared down at his attacker. Wherever the Dragon's fiery blood fell, stones shattered and bricks dissolved into powder.

Within attacking range at last, Sadira stopped to collect the energy for a spell.

Rikus swung again, but Borys easily stepped away, then countered by slashing at the mul with four long claws. As the blow landed, there was an ear-piercing screech and a brilliant blue flash. When the light died away, Rikus was no longer standing atop the tower.

“No!” Sadira screamed.

She was about to cast her spell when the Dragon opened his mouth and hissed in anger. His long tongue darted from his beak and licked at the top of the tower for a moment, then he paused to look over the hills surrounding the village. Whatever had happened, it had apparently not been his doing.

Then Sadira saw the mul standing beneath the gate arch, where the Dragon could not see him, looking dazed and confused. Remembering that Khidar had told her no champion could strike the bearer of a weapon forged by Rajaat, the sorceress decided it would be wisest to hold her attacks until she and Rikus could join forces.

Instead, keeping an eye on both the Dragon and the mul, she went over to Agis's side. What she found made her gasp in alarm. The noble lay on the rocky ground, unconscious and barely breathing. Although he had escaped being hit by Borys's searing breath, an indirect blast of fiery sand had burned his robe away and scoured the skin off much of his face. The sorceress laid her hands on his chest, then allowed some of the energy infusing her body to flow into his. With a little luck, this would keep him alive for a little longer, but her powers did not make her a healer. For that, she needed Magnus. Sadira rose and glanced back toward gate. Borys had stepped completely into the village now. Dwarven warriors were swarming around his feet, ineffectually hacking at his ankles with their steel battle-axes. Paying them no more attention than Magnus would have a swarm of mosquitoes, the Dragon paused long enough to run a finger along the wound that Rikus had opened. The edges of the cut fused together, stanching the flow of yellow blood.

That done, he turned and marched through the village toward the sound of Neeva's birthing screams. The dwarven warriors followed, but succeeded only in getting themselves crushed along with whatever else happened to lie beneath the Dragon's footfalls. Seeing this, Rikus began to recover from his shock and turned to follow the battle.

Magnus's heavy footsteps finally came up behind the sorceress. Hardly turning around to address the windsinger, she pointed at Agis's inert form. “Don't let him die!”

“I'll do what I can,” the windsinger replied, panting heavily. “Who is he?”

“One of my husbands,” Sadira answered.

With that, she rushed toward the gate, followed by Sacha and Wyan. She caught up to Rikus just as he started to rush down the lane after Borys and the dwarves. “Rikus, wait!” she called. “You need help!”

The mul stopped and looked back. When his eyes fell on Sadira, his square jaw slackened. “What happened to you?” he gasped.

The sorceress reached over and pushed his jaw back up. “Never mind,” she said. “The important thing is that I made it to the
Pristine
Tower
and found out how to save Tyr
—
and Kled. Whatever you do, don't let go of the Scourge of Rkard. Together, I think we can stop the Dragon
—
”

“You mean kill him!” hissed Sacha.

Rikus glanced over the sorceress's shoulder and frowned. “What are those two doing here?” he growled. “Don't tell me they're with you?”

“They're the ones who told me to come here,” Sadira admitted.

“I still don't think we can trust 'em,” the mul growled.

“Don't think,” hissed Wyan.
“That's not what your kind is bred for.”

Rikus raised his sword to strike at the head, but Sadira caught his arm. “At the moment, we've got more important things to fight,” she said. “Especially if Borys is going where I think he is.”

With that, she led the way after the Dragon. It did not take much effort to track him. Even if his body hadn't towered far above Kled's small huts, the swath of devastation created by his passing would have made it an easy task.

When they caught up to him, the Dragon was kneeling next to a hut, his arms resting on the top of its walls and his head peering down inside. From inside came the pained groans of Neeva's labor, and no other sounds.

The entire company of dwarves was gathered around the Dragon, swinging their axes at his great body as though it were a tree. Occasionally, Borys lashed out with his tail and smashed one or two of the warriors against a stone hut, but otherwise he paid them little attention.

As Sadira and Rikus approached, Borys flicked his tongue into the hut, then said, “Come now, tell me where you have hidden this Er'Stali and his book. If you force me to use the Way, I promise your child will die with the rest of the village.”

From inside the hut, Neeva's pained voice screamed, “No!”

Sadira took one last look around, noting that Sacha and Wyan had finally yielded to their cowardly instincts and disappeared. When she saw no reason to postpone the attack, she pointed her hand at the Dragon's head, then whispered, “Now, Rikus!”

When she spoke her incantation, a streak of crimson light shot from her finger and engulfed Borys's head in a ball of radiance almost as bright as the sun itself. He bellowed in surprise and jumped to his feet, then Rikus was on him, furiously hacking and slashing at the Dragon's legs. Wound after wound opened, spattering the mul with hot yellow blood and filling the street with runnels of liquid fire. Although the heat drove the dwarves away, Rikus ignored the pain it caused him and continued to lash out at Borys.

Before preparing to cast another spell, Sadira stepped over to the hut and peered over the side. She caught a glimpse of Neeva's naked figure squatting on a bed of soft hides, her hands clenching Caelum's shoulders for support.

“Caelum, take her and run!” Sadira hissed.

“But the child is com
—
”

“Carry her, now!” the sorceress yelled, stepping away. As she looked back to the battle, Sadira saw the Dragon reach up and grab her sphere of light as though it were a mask, then rip it away. Instantly, she cast her next spell, firing a streak of darkness at his head. This time, Borys was ready for her and deflected the attack with a flick of his wrist. The bolt struck a hut and swaddled it in blackness. It drained into the ground, leaving nothing behind except a shadow.

Once more, Sadira raised her hand toward the sun. Rikus continued to press the attack, leaping across a small stream of boiling stone to thrust his blade toward Borys's abdomen. The Dragon, much better at defending himself now that he could see, slapped the flat of the blade aside.

“I believe that sword belongs to me,” he said, gesturing at the Scourge of Rkard with one long finger.

“It's mine now,” Rikus replied. He swung again, lopping off the end of the Dragon's finger.

A stream of blood shot from the wound and sprayed over Rikus's chest. The mul screamed and stumbled away, barely managing to keep his hand on his sword. Screaming in rage, Borys slashed at his attacker. Again, there was an ear-piercing shriek and a brilliant flash of blue, then Rikus was nowhere to be seen.

Guessing that the Dragon would turn his attention to her next, Sadira whispered her spell. Instantly, her hand began to vibrate with a gentle hum and glowed in a soft red color. Borys fixed his eyes on the sorceress and opened his mouth, as if to inhale.

“I wouldn't,” Sadira said, raising her humming hand toward the Dragon. “My magic comes from the
Pristine
Tower
, and you've already seen that it can affect you.”

“It won't after you die,” Borys snarled.

“True, but that would unleash the spell in this hand,” Sadira said, cautiously bending down and touching her fingers to the street. Immediately, the cobblestones began to crack and break apart. “You could still kill me after the globes in your stomach shattered,” she said. “But then, how would you collect the energy you need to keep your prison locked?”

The Dragon closed his mouth and began to shuffle slowly forward, staring at the sorceress in angry silence. Sadira rose to her feet again, but did not retreat. Despite her show of bravery, she was beginning to worry that she had made a mistake. When the sorceress and her friends had killed Kalak, they had caught him in the process of swallowing several obsidian balls as he tried to transform himself into a dragon. They had assumed that he needed the balls for the same reason there had been an obsidian pommel on Nok's cane: to convert the life-force of animals into magical energy.

If they had been mistaken in that assumption, or if Sadira was wrong about the purpose of the levy Borys collected, her error was about to become a fatal one. Still, she had little choice except to press on with her strategy, for it was the only hope she had of forcing the Dragon to leave on her terms. The sorceress stepped forward to meet Borys, reaching out to touch his chitinous body.

The Dragon stopped. “What kind of bargain do you have in mind?” he asked, keeping a wary eye fixed on the sorceress's hand.

“A simple one,” she said, breathing a silent sigh of relief. “You leave Kled and Tyr alone, and we will leave you alone.”

“No!” screamed Sacha, drifting into view from around the corner.

“Our agreement was that you would attack him!” added Wyan, following close behind. “Release the spell!”

Borys's eyes darted to the two heads. “Arala and Bodach. I have often wondered what became of you two after Kalak's death!” he hissed.

Sacha and Wyan stopped in back of Sadira, using her as a protective shield. “Cast the spell,” urged Wyan. “It'll kill him
—
you'll see.”

Though she did not say so aloud, the sorceress knew Wyan was lying. Destroying the globes in Borys's stomach would cripple only his ability to use his most powerful magic, but he would still be able to end her life in any one of a dozen other ways. Nevertheless, she thought she might force the Dragon's hand by playing along with the two heads.

“How sure are you of that?” she asked. “If this doesn't work, you'll die with me.” “It'll work,” said Sacha.

Sadira looked back to Borys. “What shall it be?” The Dragon did not take his eyes off the two heads. “Let me have Sacha and Wyan,” he hissed.

The sorceress did not even hesitate to step aside. Before the dumfounded pair could object, one of Borys's hands lashed out and enveloped them. “Until next year, then,” he said, giving the sorceress a formal bow.

When Sadira did not return the gesture, Borys turned and started walking. As he moved away, his body grew translucent and soon faded from sight altogether.

The sorceress sank to her haunches and began to tremble, but she did not discharge the energy in her hand. Never again, she suspected, would she feel safe without the reassuring hum of this particular spell ringing in her ears.

For several moments, Sadira sat alone, too shocked and exhausted to move. The spell that she had cast to eavesdrop on the village was still active. Her ears were filled with the sounds of the battle's aftermath
—
Magnus's healing song, the moans of the wounded, and the mournful cries of those who had lost their loved ones.

One sound, she could hear above all the rest: Neeva screaming in pain and joy as she struggled to bring her child into the world. As Sadira sat listening, the shrieks of pain suddenly gave way to the sound of blissful laughter and the wail of a newborn infant.

A moment later, Rikus rushed around the corner, his sword still drawn. Where the Dragon's blood had spattered him, the mill's chest and legs were covered with white blisters. “What happened?” he asked, looking around as if he expected the Dragon to pounce on him at any moment.

Sadira gave the mul a warm smile. “Why don't you tell me?” she asked. “Did Neeva have a boy or a girl?”

Far down the caravan road from Tyr, King Tithian I stood on a toppled argosy, staring into the moonlit eyes of the Dragon. Only through a practiced force of will could he keep his knees from trembling, and he was acutely conscious that the golden diadem resting on his brow had been fashioned for a head somewhat smaller than his own.

“It was Nibenay who failed to stop Sadira from finding the
Pristine
Tower
, not me,” Tithian was saying. “My only mistake was trusting them.” He pointed at the two heads hanging from the Dragon's waist.

“Your mistake was in believing you could rule Tyr!” hissed Sacha.

“And in daring to think you were smarter than your slaves!” added Wyan.