Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 1 - The Verdent Passage (5 page)

Now that Sadira had gathered enough mystic energy, she uttered the incantation that would
give shape and direction to her magic, then threw a handful of sand at her target. A
flashing cone of scarlet and gold spouted from her fingers and shot toward the gaj's head
in a sparkling beam of radiance. As it reached the beast, the stream broke into a froth of
emerald bubbles, each of which burst into a spray of red or blue or yellow or any of a
hundred other vibrant colors. Even to Sadira, who knew what to expect, the display was
dazzling. The brilliance of all the clashing colors set her mind to reeling, and only the
fact that she had known what the spell would do saved her from being stunned by the
resplendent spectacle.

The gaj's tentacles became flaccid, releasing Rikus's head and wrists. Its red eyes faded
to dull maroon. Then it retracted its sticklike legs, and its scaly shell sank to the
ground. Unfortunately the pincers remained closed, Rikus's limp body locked in the
powerful mandibles. Where the gaj's antennae had held him, red welts covered the
gladiator's skin.

Both Neeva and Yarig looked from Sadira to the motionless beast. “What happened?” asked
the husky dwarf.

“It's stunned,” Sadira replied, stepping toward to* thing's mandibles. “I cast a spell on
it.”

The jaws of both gladiators fell slack. “That will mean your death!” Neeva uttered. “You'd
do that for Rikus?”

“I already have,” Sadira replied.

On top of the wall, Boaz screamed, “What happened to the gaj? Lord Tithian will have your
head!”

The scullery slave ignored him and tugged at a mandible. It did not open. “We've got to
get Rikus free,” she said. “The gaj will
recover
soon.”

Neeva stepped to Sadira's side and inserted a spear between the mandibles. “Rikus never
told me you were a sorceress.”

“I try not to tell all my secrets,” Sadira answered.

Neeva braced her foot against a mandible and pried with her spear. As the pincers slowly
opened, Yarig laid aside his own weapon and started to pull Rikus free. The barbs, still
piercing the mul's abdomen, tore at the gladiator's stomach.

“Wait!” Sadira said, laying one of her soft hands on the dwarf's arm. “Neeva must open
those pincers farther.”

“Can't,” came the strained reply.

“What are you doing to the gaj?” Boaz demanded from the wall. “Stop! Don't hurt it any
worse.”

The guards shuffled toward the rope and started repeating their superior's command to
leave the gaj alone, but they did not move to enforce the order. Their hesitation did not
surprise Sadira. Their fighting skills could not compare to those of the gladiators, and
none of them was anxious to take the initiative in using force against the slaves.

Yarig retrieved his spear and placed it between the pincers, next to Neeva's weapon. As
the dwarf lent his ample strength to the effort, the mandibles opened another two feet.
The barbs came out of Rikus's stomach and blood poured from the wounds.

Sadira grabbed the big gladiator's shoulders and pulled, but the mul was far too heavy for
her.

“Anezka, help me!”

The halfling slowly stepped to her side and took one of Rikus's arms. The two women pulled
him from the pincers.

When the unconscious mul was free, Neeva and Yarig abandoned their weapons and allowed the
pincers to close. Each grabbed one of Rikus's arms, then dragged him toward the edge of
the fighting pit. Sadira and Anezka followed a step behind, both glancing over their
shoulders at the stunned beast, checking for signs of movement.

By the time they reached the wall, the gaj's tentacles were beginning to twitch. Yarig
grabbed the rope and climbed up, only to find Boaz waiting for him at the top. “I should
leave you down there for the gaj,” the trainer hissed.

“We'd have to kill it,” Yarig replied simply, hesitating at the top of the rope. “Should I
go back down?”

Boaz regarded the obstinate dwarf for a moment, annoyed at his own uncertainty. Finally
the trainer stepped aside. “No. I'll think of a more fining punishment for your
disobedience later.”

As Yarig scrambled out of the pit, Neeva picked Rikus up and lifted him as high as she
could. Yarig turned and lowered himself onto his belly, then reached down for the
unconscious mul. The dwarf's arms were too short to bridge the gap, but Anezka took care
of the problem by scrambling halfway up the rope and passing Rikus's heavy arms to her
partner.

“Got him!” Yarig said, struggling to pull the mul toward the deck, with Neeva pushing from
below.

Behind Sadira, in the center of the pit, the gaj clacked its pincers loudly, snapping the
abandoned spears with a series of sharp cracks.

Neeva gave a loud grunt, then heaved Rikus up over her head Yarig seized the opportunity
to gather his feet beneath him, then pulled the bulky mul to safety. Immediately, Anezka
scrambled the rest of the way up the rope. Sadira dared to look over her shoulder. The gaj
had risen to its feet and was pointing its hairy tentacles in the group's direction.

“We've got to hurry,” Sadira called. “It's awake!”

No sooner had she spoken than a pair of strong hands seized her by the waist. Before the
half-elf realized what was happening, Neeva had passed her to Yarig, who effortlessly
hoisted her to safety.

When Yarig set her atop the wall, Sadira spun around. The gaj was scuttling across the
sandy floor of the fighting pit and was already halfway to the wall. Neeva leaped up and
grabbed the rope, but Sadira doubted that the woman would reach the top before the
creature caught her.

Since she had likely exposed herself as a sorceress earlier, Sadira decided she would do
no additional harm by using her magic to save Rikus's partner. She pointed toward the gaj
and began to recite an incantation, preparing to shoot a bolt of magical energy into the
beast's head.

Just before she could cast the spell, Boaz shouted, “Stop her!”

The shaft of a guard's spear came crashing down across Sadira's forearm, misdirecting her
attack. A burst of golden energy flashed from her fingertips and blasted into the pit,
striking well to the gaj's left. A geyser of sand sprayed thirty feet into the air.

The gaj ignored the blast and continued its charge, loudly clacking its mandibles and
angrily waving its antennae. One of Neeva's hands crested the wall, and Yarig grabbed her
arm.

As the gaj reached the edge of the pit, it lifted the front end of its shell and began
scraping at the base of the stones in a futile attempt to follow. The creature's head lay
only a few feet below Neeva's ankles. Her other hand crested the wall, and she started to
pull herself free of the pit.

One of the gaj's tentacles lashed out and entwined Neeva's bare calf. The woman cried out
in pain and surprise. Her fingers slipped from the wall, but Yarig caught her arm and held
it fast. Neeva regained her grip with the other hand. Still screaming in pain, she fought
to drag herself up the wall.

The creature's bristly antenna remained about her calf. Neeva jerked her leg upward,
twisting savagely. With a loud pop, the stalk separated from the gaj's head. The beast
emitted a piercing screech, then scrambled away. A few yards from the wall, it retracted
its legs and head, and quickly lowered its shell to the sand.

“Get it off!” Neeva shrieked, violently thrashing about. She tried to reach the tentacle
around her leg, but the intense pain caused her arms and legs to jerk with agonizing
spasms.

Sadira reached out to help, but found herself facing the sharp point of a guard's spear.
“Don't even move,” the man threatened.

Ignoring the guard's threat to the scullery slave, Yarig tried to assist Neeva, but Boaz
stepped between him and the screaming woman. “I did not give you leave to help her,” he
said.

The dwarf sneered and tried to sidestep the trainer. A guard lunged forward, pressing his
speartip against Yarig's ribs.

As Neeva continued to flail and scream, Boaz looked to the guards surrounding Rikus, who
still lay prone on the deck.
"Is the mul dead?'

One of the guards shook his head. “He's breathing, but that's about all.”

“Then see if you can keep him alive,” Boaz ordered. “We can't have our champion dying in
his sleep. Lord Tithian would not find that to his liking.”

The guard nodded, then bandaged the mul's wounds. Only a few feet away, Neeva continued to
cry out in pain. No one assisted her.

Boaz looked to Sadira next. “What are we to do with you, my bewitching little wench? As
I'm sure you're aware, the penalty for spellcasting is death.”

The scullery slave met the trainer's gaze steadily, though her heart was pounding with
fear. “Lord Tithian certainly will want to question me before I'm killed,” she said.
Feigning confidence, she forced her voluptuous lips into a smile. “But I can see how that
might make you uncomfortable. After all, Lord Tithian would not be happy to hear that you
sent his prize gladiator to fight the gaj with only a pair of singing sticks.”

“So I should just forget what I saw?” Boaz asked, meeting Sadira's smile with a cynical
grin.

“That would be in your best interest,” she replied, careful to maintain an even tone.

“I have nothing to fear from Tithian,” Boaz said. “To him, the mul is just another slave.”

As the trainer studied her, Sadira looked for any sign of the doubt she hoped Boaz was
feeling. Only the depth of his concentration gave her cause to think she had succeeded.
Regardless of what the trainer claimed, Tithian would indeed be upset if he learned how
Rikus had been injured. Boaz could be certain that the story would surface if he turned
Sadira over to their master for interrogation.

“Perhaps I should kill you now,” Boaz threatened. “I could always throw you to the gaj.”

“That's your choice,” Sadira answered bravely. “But Lord Tithian would be cheated of his
opportunity to question me. Eventually he would learn of the magic I used today. Even if
your guards keep silent, I'm sure these gladiators will tell him. Or would you kill all of
them, too?”

As the trainer considered his next response, Neeva finally ripped the gaj's antenna from
her leg and flung it into the pit. Her anguished cries quieted to a moan. The sudden calm
seemed to inspire Boaz.

The half-elf gave Sadira a tight-lipped smile. “I'll consider your advice.” He looked from
the slave girl to the guard beside her, who was now holding the spear at her throat. “Lock
her in the Break.”

Sadira cringed. The Break was an old storage house with dozens of small silos built into
the ground. It was Boaz's favorite punishment. She was not sure what horrors the Break
contained, but there were many, many rumors. The one thing Sadira knew for certain was
that no slave survived imprisonment in the Break beyond five days.

The guard took the young woman by the arm. As he led her away, the half-elf cast a final
look at Rikus. Now two guards attended him. They had ripped the mul's robe into strips and
wrapped it around his stomach, but blood still seeped from beneath the bandage at an
alarming rate. Sadira was glad to see the bleeding, however, for it was the only sign of
life in the mul's inert form.

Boaz motioned to the guard holding Sadira. “See that she is bound and gagged.”

Sadira's heart sank with this last order. With bound hands and a gagged tongue, she could
not use her magic. It would be impossible to make the gestures or utter the incantations
of the spells she would need to make her escape. The guard nodded, then leveled his spear
at Sadira's back. “You know where we're going.”

Sadira led the way across the deck to a short flight of steps. Directly ahead were a dozen
squat buildings. Their walls were constructed from dun-colored bricks made of mud, and
animal hides covered their roofs. Between the buildings shuffled a handful of gaunt
slaves. They carried buckets of water and food to the cells that housed Tithian's
gladiators and, more importantly, to the pens which held the exotic animals his hunters
had captured for the ziggurat games.

Beyond the buildings rose the compound wall, a mud-brick barricade twenty feet high,
capped by jagged shards of obsidian. At each corner, a high, flat-roofed tower rose above
the wall. The towers' roofs were covered with scaly hides.

A pair of guards stood in each of the four towers. They wore no armor, for anyone dressed
so heavily would soon faint in the searing heat of an Athasian day, but each guard was
armed with a crossbow, a small supply of steel-tipped bolts, and a steel dagger.

The steel weapons, Sadira knew, were more for intimidation than for actual use. On Athas,
metal was more precious than water and as scarce as rain. Tyr was unique among Athasian
city-states in that it controlled a working iron mine. For their metal, other cities had
to rely on hard-bitten bands of salvagers. These hardy groups of fortune-hunters searched
out lost armories and treasure vaults in the ancient ruins which were buried everywhere
beneath the sands of the desert.

The fact that Tithian entrusted his tower guards with metal weapons was a sign of the high
templar's incredible wealth. Even in Tyr, where iron was relatively abundant a steel
crossbow bolt cost more than a healthy farm slave' and the daggers were worth as much as a
good gladiator.

Sadira's guard prodded her in the back with his obsidian spearpoint. “Quit stalling.”

Resisting the urge to try a spell immediately, the half-elf descended the stairs leading
from the arena deck. At the moment, Boaz and the other guards would be quick to react to
the slightest hint of trouble, and Sadira knew better than to think she could fight a
half-dozen ready guards. She would have to bide her time, then count on stealth to make
good her escape.

Sadira walked to the Break, a small building at the far corner of the compound. Here, a
guard gagged her with a grimy cloth and bound her hands behind her back with a rope that
bit into her skin. She was handed over to a pair of guards in charge of the Break, who
pushed her inside. As she descended a flight of stone steps, the dank stench of offal and
unbathed humanity washed over her. She almost retched, then nearly choked on the gag that
filled her mouth.