Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 5 - The Cerulean Storm (15 page)

“What's that?” Rikus asked.

“Rkard's sun-spell.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “He's in trouble.”

“It's about to go out,” Rikus observed. “How long does it last?”

“A quarter hour,” Neeva replied. She looked at Rikus, then asked, “Do you think there's
any chance Sadira's awake yet?”

“If she was awake, there would be no need for Rkard to cast his spell,” the mul replied.

Neeva started to back down the tunnel. “We've got to help him!”

Rikus grabbed her shoulder. “It'll take too long to return,” he said. “But I know a faster
way.”

Neeva allowed herself to be pulled up the passage. “How?”

Rikus took the rope off her shoulder. He began tying it around himself, looping it first
between his legs, then around his hips, over his shoulders, and beneath his arms so it
would spread the impact of a long fall over the strongest points of his body.

“Leave about ten arms of rope between us,” Rikus said, finishing his harness off with a
secure knot. “Fasten yourself into the other end of the line like I have. Then come up
here next to me.”

By the time they finished, Caelum was crawling up the tunnel toward them. “What's wrong?”
he asked, eyeing the rope strung between his wife and Rikus.

“Your son's in trouble,” the mul answered.

Rikus checked Neeva's harness, then twisted himself around so that he sat at the mouth of
the tunnel, his legs dangling over the edge. Neeva passed him his battle-axe and sat next
to him, cradling her own weapon in her arms.

“Wait!” Caelum cried. “That rope isn't tied off. You'll fall-”

“Not now, husband,” Neeva snapped. Without looking back at the dwarf, she peered down at
Patch's shoulder, which was just a little bit ahead of their perch. “I know what to do.”

“Just like old times,” Rikus answered, smiling. “Go!”

Gripping his axe with both hands, he slipped out of the tunnel. He pushed off the gorge
wall with his legs, driving himself to the side so that he would fall in front of Patch's
body. In the same instant, Neeva also slipped from her perch, though she launched herself
straight ahead so she would come down behind the giant. The rope stretched out between her
and Rikus, keeping them connected as they plummeted into the shadows.

Rikus heard Caelum cry out, then the roar of the wind filled his ears and drowned out the
dwarf. The mul felt his own voice vibrating inside his skull and knew he was screaming,
but he simply ignored the panicked part of his mind and focused his thoughts on one simple
task: clutching his battle-axe.

Rikus plunged past a tangle of hair braids, and Neeva passed out of sight behind Patch's
massive collarbone. The mul hit feet-first, then glanced off the giant's breast and
bounced away. The rope caught him an instant later, his makeshift harness biting deep
beneath his legs and arms as the cord stretched with the force of the fall. It squeezed
tight around his ribs, filling his chest with a terrible ache and driving the air from his
lungs in an involuntary groan. He heard a similar grunt from Neeva's side of the shoulder,
then felt himself arcing back toward the titan's chest. As painful as the stop was, Rikus
knew that it would have been much worse-possibly even snapping his back or breaking his
ribs-had he not taken the time to tie himself into the line as he had.

Patch roared in surprise and wrenched around to see what had fallen on him. The motion
sent Rikus swinging toward the gorge wall and the rope skipped as his weight hit the end.
Fearing the line would slip off the huge shoulder, he swung his axe as hard as he could.
The steel head drove deep into the titan's breast, instantly stopping the mul's flight and
drawing a pained howl from the giant.

Releasing his weapon, Rikus grabbed a fold of the giant's smelly sheepskin tunic and
pulled himself forward. Patch's hand slapped down behind him. The back edge of the
double-bladed axe sank deep into the titan's palm and the giant bellowed in anger. While
the titan plucked the battle-axe from his palm, the mul climbed for the opposite shoulder.
He saw Patch raise a hand to claw at him, then the giant abruptly stopped as a flurry of
dull thumps sounded at his feet.

“Stomp the Granite Company, will you!” cried a dwarf's angry voice. “We'll chop you off at
the ankles, you lout!”

Patch hopped from one foot to the other. Each time he changed legs, a dwarf cried out in
pain, and the sound of folding steel echoed up from the dark gorge. Determined to make the
most of the diversion, Rikus continued his climb and soon pulled himself over the giant's
shoulder. He met Neeva coming from the other side. Like Rikus, she remained harnessed into
the rope.

“Everything okay?” Rikus asked.

“It will be, when we choke this giant,” Neeva replied.

The warrior scrambled away, crossing in front of the titan's throat. The mul jumped over
the back of the shoulder. Patch did not attempt to stop them, his attention fixed on the
dwarven axes hacking at his ankles. Rikus waited until he saw Neeva appear behind the
giant's other shoulder, then braced his feet and pulled. She did the same. The rope, now
looped around the huge throat like a garotte, tightened.

Patch forgot the dwarves and tried to pull the rope away. His efforts were to no avail.
Rikus and Neeva had pulled the cord so tight that it bit deep into his flesh, and the
titan could not slip his fingers beneath the taut line. A deep gurgle rumbled from the
brute's throat.

Patch stumbled around, turning his back toward the cliff. Anticipating the giant's next
move, Rikus called, “Cross and over!”

Still pulling on the rope, the mul shuffled across Patch's spine. Neeva did the same, and
they crossed. The giant leaned back toward the cliff. They threw themselves over his
collarbone and narrowly avoided being crushed as he slammed into the rock wall.

Patch kept his back against the cliff, his rasping chokes echoing down the canyon. He
raised one hand toward each of his tormenters.

Rikus could not see what Neeva was doing, but the mul tried to draw his dagger. He found
the hilt tied into place beneath his harness. The giant's fingers encircled his body.
Rikus grabbed the rope with both hands and pulled, kicking at the enormous hand with both
feet. He almost slipped free, then Patch caught his legs. The titan squeezed, filling
Rikus's knees and hips with agony.

The choking giant had already grown very weak, and the torment was not as bad as it might
have been. None of Rikus's thick mul bones cracked, and he did not even feel anything pop
out of socket. Deciding he could bear the pain until Patch fell unconscious, the warrior
braced himself against the titan's thumb and index finger, concentrating his efforts on
keeping himself from slipping deeper into the huge fist.

The mul peered around the giant's gullet and caught a glimpse of Neeva. Somehow, she had
braced her feet against the back of the hand and wrapped both her arms around the titan's
little finger. She was pulling it back against the joint, though Rikus suspected she had
little chance of snapping it.

A series of deep, racking coughs shook the giant's torso. He tried to jerk Rikus and Neeva
away from his throat. They were still connected to the rope, and he succeeded only in
drawing it tighter. Patch began to sway, then dropped to his knees.

Cheering madly, more than a-dozen dwarves began hacking at the giant's thighs.

A long convulsion ran through Patch's body, then his hands opened and he pitched forward.
His face slammed into the gorge wall, leaving: his killers dangling from the rope around
his neck.

Rikus and Neeva pulled themselves up the rope to Patch's collarbone, where they freed
themselves from their harnsesses. They tied the ends of the cord together so the garotte
would not loosen before it had done its work completely, then slid down the unconscious
giant's back. Their feet had barely touched the ground before Neeva was yelling for Suit
to report.

“Here, commander.” A grizzled dwarf stepped forward, wading through a river of blood that
was pouring from a wound in Patch's thigh. He had a weather-lined face and a thin, crooked
nose that looked as though it had been broken a dozen times. “Fifteen survivors for the
Granite Company.”

“Never mind that,” Neeva replied. “How many giants did you kill in this canyon?”

“One, aside from this one,” the dwarf replied. “The fourth one stayed at the farm to fight
the windsinger.”

With a curse, Neeva turned and started down the dark gorge at a sprint.

* * * * *

From his hiding place on the butte, Rkard saw Magnus run out of the faro orchard below
Rasda's Wall. The windsinger looked utterly exhausted, stumbling over rocks and flailing
his massive arms as he tried to retain his balance. He veered away from the four giants
who had died during the day and raced for the far end of the valley.

A series of thudding footsteps echoed behind him. A single giant appeared from behind
Rasda's Wall, carrying a stone he had torn from the ridge. The titan looked as exhausted
as Magnus. He had two jagged cuts on his brow, and his body was covered with huge bruises
so dark Rkard could see them even in the pale light of the moons.

The marks were evidence of the terrific brawl to which the young mul had been listening
until just a few seconds ago. After the four surviving giants had followed Kled's militia
toward Pauper's Hope, a terrible storm of whirling winds and rumbling thunder had erupted
behind Rasda's Wall. The din had been answered by the clatter of breaking stones and angry
bellows. A moment later, most of the titans' voices had begun to grow more distant and
muffled, and Rkard had guessed they were chasing the militia into the mountains. One brute
had stayed behind, however, and the sounds of battle had continued to rage for a long time.

Now, it was finally clear who had won. As Rkard watched, the giant braced himself and
hurled his stone. The rock glanced off the windsinger's shoulder and tumbled away. Magnus
dropped in midstride, tumbling head over heels for the length of a dozen strides. He
finally came to a rest flat on his back, with his head toward his attacker.

Rkard almost forgot himself and cried out, but at the last moment managed to choke his
scream into a strangled croak, “Magnus!”

The windsinger lay motionless for a moment, and Rkard worried that the stone had killed
him. Then Magnus raised his head and, with a great deal of effort, pushed himself into a
sitting position. The arm that had been hit by the boulder hung limply at his side, and he
hardly seemed conscious of the giant's heavy footsteps behind him.

“Get up, Magnus,” Rkard whispered. He knew Magnus could sometimes hear messages carried on
the wind. Since a gentle breeze was blowing down the butte, the boy hoped his words, would
reach the wind-singer's funny-looking ears. “The giant's coming.”

Magnus continued to sit motionless, and the titan stopped behind him. Rkard touched his
fingers to the crimson sun on his forehead and felt a warm, tingly sensation running
through his arm. Most people assumed the red disk to be a tattoo, but it was actually the
sun-mark, a birthmark that served as his mystical connection to the sun during times of
darkness.

The windsinger suddenly pricked up his big ears and glanced toward the butte. He shook his
head and rolled over onto his hands and knees. Rkard breathed a sigh of relief, thankful
the windsinger had spared him the necessity of deciding whether or not to cast his spell.
After Jo'orsh and Sa'ram had appeared to him, his father had told him that he must never
risk his life, not even if it meant saving the entire militia-or his own parents. His
father had said more than a few lives depended on his destiny, and that if he got himself
killed, everyone on Athas would die with him.

Rkard didn't like what his father had said. And he thought his mother probably didn't
either, though she had not told him as much. After that nasty head- Wyan-had arrived with
the Astides signet, and everyone had decided that it was time to kill the Dragon, she had
told him to think about his decisions very carefully. She had said he should never do
anything dangerous unless he had a good chance of succeeding, and even then he had to
think of a way to escape first.

In the valley below, the giant kicked his foot into Magnus's ribs. The windsinger arced
out over the valley, crashing into a jumble of sharp stones thirty paces away. The impact
would have killed a human, and probably even a mul, but not Magnus. He just rolled across
the rocky ground and tried to pick himself up again.

This time, he did not succeed.

The giant grabbed a pointed stone as large as a kank. Rkard could not decide what to do.
Neither of his parents would want him to cast his spell now. The worst thing he could do
to the titan was blind him for a few moments, and then the brute would probably come to
hunt him and Sadira down. But the thought of standing by while the giant smashed Magnus
gave the boy a sick feeling in his stomach.

The titan stepped toward Magnus.

Rkard slipped behind his boulder and looked down at Sadira. The sorceress lay motionless
on the ground, her amber hair glowing softly in the moonlight and her almond-shaped eyes
closed tight. Her chest heaved as though she were sobbing, and the way her fingers
fluttered reminded the boy of how they moved when she cast a spell.

Rkard kneeled at her side and shook her shoulder. “The giant's going to kill Magnus,” he
said. “Wake up!”

The sorceress's chest continued to heave, and she showed no sign of stirring.

“What should I do?” he asked.

Sadira's head rolled to one side, but she did not answer.

“Okay, I'll decide myself,” the boy answered. “What would Rikus do?”

Rkard knew instantly that his hero would not stand by while a giant killed a friend. Rikus
would do whatever he could, even if it meant he might die himself. That was why everybody
liked him so much.