Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 5 - The Cerulean Storm (24 page)

After a moment's silence, Sadira continued the debate. “Neeva, did it ever occur to you
that the prophecy might be a warning? That it might be something we
don't
want to come true?” she asked. “Perhaps the fate of our two armies is a portent of what'll
happen if we go through with this plan.”

“What the prophecy says doesn't matter,” declared Rikus. “We've got to kill the Dragon,
even if it frees Rajaat.”

“Think of what you're saying!” Sadira objected. “As powerful as the sorcerer-kings are, it
took all of them together to imprison Rajaat-and he could be even more powerful now.”

“I don't care,” said the mul, stubborn as ever.

“Borys and the sorcerer-kings are greedy and power-hungry, but their evil is nothing
compared to that of Rajaat,” Sadira pressed. “At least they won't wipe out every Athasian
race except the humans-and wouldn't have the power to succeed if they tried.”

“True,” agreed the mul. “And I'm as worried as you. But we've got to kill the Dragon. We'd
be fools to think we can control him forever. So, if we free Rajaat, we'll just have to
destroy him, too. We can't trade one evil for another.”

There was a short silence, then Sadira asked, “Neeva, what do you think? It's your son we
must risk if we decide to kill the Dragon.”

“And it's my son who'll have to live-or die-with the scruples of our choice,” she said.
“Given that, there's only one thing to do. Rkard must kill the Dragon.”

Tithian heard Sadira suck in a deep breath. “Victory or death, then,” she said. The
declaration was one that Tyrian gladiators had once recited before entering the arena.

“No, just victory,” said Rikus. “Death means that we have lost, and we can't allow
that-not when we are risking so much.”

Tithian heard the soft slap of three hands coming together, then Rikus said, “That leaves
us only one problem: Tithian.”

“As much as I'd like to kill him, we can't,” said Sadira. "He's the only mindbender among
us, and we know from the battles we've already fought that we can't get along without one.
Abalach used the Way in the Ivory Plain and nearly defeated me, and I suspect that Borys
will prove even more powerful.

“We can't trust Tithian,” objected Rikus.

“Of course not,” replied Sadira. “But we can keep him under control until we've killed
Borys.”

“And after that?” asked Neeva.

“As soon as the Dragon falls, he'll try to kill us,” said Rikus, lowering his voice to a
whisper. “If we want to survive, we'll have to kill him first.”

Tithian smiled to himself. They could try to murder him, but snow would blanket the
Athasian deserts before they outperformed him at his own art.

In his stomach, the king felt the dhow descending. “It's almost dark,” said Sadira. “We'd
better rouse His Majesty.”

A small foot smashed into Tithian's ribs, forcing him to groan in pain.

Time to go to work,“ Sadira said. With one hand, she grasped his hair and pulled him off
the bilge floor. She sat him on the floater's dome. ”I trust you slept well."

Tithian opened his eyes, feigning grogginess. The Dark Lens had been moved to the bow of
the craft, and the king could see little more than its red-tinged base showing beneath the
boom of the lateen sail. Neeva and Rikus stood directly in front him, their weapons in
their hands and glaring at him with open hostility. Caelum still lay in the bilge, his
bandage crusted with dried blood.

The king reached up and pulled his coarse hair from Sadira's grip. “You shouldn't separate
me from the Dark Lens,” he said. “Borys has been looking for me, hoping to find the lens
nearby.”

“Then I hope he finds you,” said Sadira. “It would save us a journey.”

“How far have we gone?” Tithian asked, looking around. He saw nothing but dust swells,
swaddled in the purple shadows of dusk, with no sign of land in any direction. “Where's
Jo'orsh?”

Sadira pointed to a spot off the port bow. “Every now and then we see a furrow of dust
over there,” she said. “Sometimes he sticks his head up to be sure we're still following.”

“That won't do me much good.” The king laid his hand on the tiller. “I'll never see him in
the dark.”

“Don't worry,” said Rikus. The mul sat on the starboard gunnel and laid his sword across
his knees. “I'll be sitting up to help you look.”

“So will I,” added Neeva. She took a similar position on the port side. “And if one of us
even thinks you're using the Way against the other, or hears anything that sounds remotely
like a mystic word, we'll assume the worst.”

“That means we'll cut you up into little pieces.” Rikus reached out with the tip of his
sword and cut the strap of Tithian's shoulder satchel. The bag slipped off the king's
shoulder and fell out of the dhow. “Just in case you didn't understand.”

Tithian lunged for the sack, trying to grab it before it sank into the Sea of Silt. He
instantly felt Sadira's fingers digging into his shoulder, jerking him away.

“You fools!” The king hissed, watching the satchel sink beneath the dust. “That was magic!”

“Which is why I thought it best to be rid of the thing,” said Sadira. “Who knows what
surprises you had stored in there for us?”

“Now that we've made our point,” said Rikus, “is there anything else we should know
about-so we don't accidentally throw it overboard?”

The king shook his head. “You've no need to fear me, or anything I have left.” He grasped
the tiller. “If we're going to kill Borys, we have to work together. I understand
that-probably better than you.”

“Good,” said Sadira. She moved toward the bow. “Then you take over until dawn.”

Tithian opened himself to the floater's dome, allowing his life energy to flow into it.
Icy tendrils of pain began to spread up through his hips and into his abdomen. He closed
his eyes and visualized the ship's hull in his mind, then pictured the gray dust swells
changing to blue waves of salt water-the Sea of Silt as it was, long before the
sorcerer-kings ruled Athas. The dhow's weight settled on his spirit, filling him with a
terrible ache, and again the craft began to pitch as it rode across the endless swells of
dust.

That was how it went, day after day. From dawn to dusk, Sadira's magic carried the dhow
above the gray waves. Then, as dark fell, Rikus roused the king to float the craft over
the silt. The mul and Neeva spent the night sitting to either side of Tithian, watching
his every move. At least once a night, one of them smashed him with a fist, just to make
certain that he knew they would kill him at the slightest provocation. The king accepted
his persecution with a grace that Rikus found vaguely unsettling, never complaining or
begging forbearance. Tithian did not even try to win them over with cajolery or false
promises, perhaps because he knew such efforts would only bring more abuse.

On the afternoon of the third day, Caelum finally woke. With a great deal of care, more
from Sadira than Neeva, the dwarf soon felt well enough to call on the sun. After that,
the women left him to his own resources and he quickly grew better, using his healing
powers to mend his terrible wound. Other than the dwarf's recovery, the routine never
changed. Jo'orsh's head periodically rose out of the dust, his glowing orange eyes serving
as beacons in the darkness of the night. Sacha stayed atop the mast day and night, never
leaving his post-which was probably wise, since neither Rikus nor any of the others had
quite forgiven him for pulling the scouts into the well to feed Tithian.

Deep into their fifth night, with a steady wind blowing from the west and a dust curtain
clinging to the sea, Sacha suddenly drifted down from the mast. “Lights,” he reported. The
head's voice was so hoarse that Rikus could barely understand him. “Behind us.”

The mul glanced over the stern and saw nothing but the impenetrable blackness of the dust
curtain. “I don't see anything.”

“You weren't sitting on top of the mast,” Sacha countered. “There were a dozen clusters of
them, spread out across the horizon. It's a fleet coming up behind us.”

Tithian cursed.

“What do you know about this?” Rikus touched the tip of his sword to the king's throat.
“If you've betrayed us-”

Tithian slapped the blade away. “This is no trick,” he sneered. “It's the fleet of the
sorcerer-kings.”

Rikus moved his sword back toward the king and said nothing.

“What do I have to gain by lying?” growled Tithian.

“When the sorcerer-kings came to meet Borys in Sama-rah, they arrived on a fleet of
Balican schooners. It appears they've been summoned to Ur Draxa.”

“Why?” asked Neeva.

“To find us, I suspect,” said the king. “From my experience, Balican fleets sail in tight
formations. If they've spread out, they must be searching for us.”

Neeva went forward to wake Caelum and Sadira.

“Bring me the Dark Lens,” said Tithian.

Rikus shook his head. “I don't think so.”

“You stupid mul!” hissed Sacha. “It's our only chance.”

“Our only chance to get killed,” Rikus countered. “Even with the Dark Lens, we can't sink
a fleet of ships carrying all the sorcerer-kings of Athas-at least not at night, when
Sadira's powers are so limited.”

“We can't outrun them, if that's what you're thinking,” said Tithian. “They have too much
sail.”

“Then we'll do the next best thing-we'll hide.” said Rikus. “The dust-curtain will conceal
us.”

“It won't,” said Tithian. “They have magic cones of glass-king's eyes-that they use to see
through the silt haze.”

“And what do they use to see through the dark?” asked the mul. When the king did not have
an answer, Rikus smiled. “I thought so. The next time we top a dust swell, swing us around
so we're sitting across the slope, near the bottom of the wave.”

The mul sheathed his sword and went forward to the mast. He waited until Tithian started
to bring the dhow around, then lowered the sail, furled it to the boom, and undid the
lashings holding the whole assembly to the mast. By the time he pulled the rigging free
and laid the boom and sail aside, Neeva had awakened Caelum and Sadira. The dwarf helped
Rikus unstep the mast, fold the long yardarm down, and lay the whole thing in the bilge.

“Cover the boat with silt,” suggested Tithian.

Rikus frowned. “Won't that sink us?”

The king shook his head. “Why should it? I'm holding us aloft,” he said. “We won't be able
to move very fast, but with our mast down, we're not going any place anyway.”

Rikus nodded, then he and the others began pulling dust from the upslope into the dhow.
Soon only their bodies and the tops of the gunnels-made of weathered bone almost as gray
as the silt-showed above the sea. The mul instructed the others to lie down, then began
covering them with powdery loess, leaving only their faces exposed so they could see and
breathe.

“This should hide us from the fleet,” said Neeva. “But what about Jo'orsh? We could lose
him.”

“Perhaps, but he hasn't changed directions in days,” said Sadira. “And if the
sorcerer-kings are behind us, I suspect we're still traveling toward the Dragon's home.”

“Right,” agreed Rikus. “But I am worried that the banshee will stick his head up at the
wrong moment. His glowing eyes would be hard to miss on a night like this.”

“You needn't worry about Jo'orsh,” said Tithian. He pushed a liver-spotted hand under the
dust to maintain contact with the floater's dome. “He can take care of himself.”

With that, the king slid down into the bilge, accompanied by Sacha, who had carefully
remained out of everyone's reach during the preparations. Rikus covered the pair with
dust, then took a moment to inspect the dhow. When he was satisfied that everything was
covered as well as it could be, he drew his sword and lay down, taking care to position
himself between the king and the Dark Lens.

They waited in the silt-heavy gloom for what seemed an eternity, listening to their own
heartbeats and the wind hissing across the silt. The hollow that they had carved from the
dust swell slowly filled in, and loess gathered around Rikus's nose and mouth. At first,
he tried to keep a clear air passage by blowing the stuff away, but this did not work and
he eventually had to move his hand up to fan the stuff away. He began to doubt that Sacha
had really seen any lights, and occupied his time by trying to think of possible reasons
for the disembodied head to lie. Aside from Sacha's malevolence, he could not see what the
head might gain by making the dhow sit motionless in the dark.

Rikus was just about to rise when he heard the distant creak of straining masts. The
others heard it, too, for the dhow fell even more silent, as if everyone had drawn a deep
breath and held it. The sound grew louder and steadier, until at last the mul recognized
in it the rhythmic cadence of a ship sliding over dust swells.

Far to the dhow's stern, the flickering beams of huge oil lamps began to dance across the
silt. The rays roved back and forth in great arcs, creating long columns of bright,
windborne silt that pierced the darkness like spears. Even with the lights, the dust was
so thick that Rikus doubted the Balican searchers could see more than a few yards beyond
their gunnels-at least they couldn't have, if not for the magical king's eyes Tithian had
mentioned.

The lights danced ahead to the next swell, then the schooner itself slipped into the
trough. If not for muffled voices of its crew and the halos of its deck lamps hovering far
above the dust, Rikus would hardly have known it was there. It took many moments for the
ship to pass. From the lights shining on the various decks and portholes, the mul formed a
fair picture of its size and shape. The thing was huge, at least three times the size of
the mighty war wagons Hamanu had sent to attack Tyr during the war with Urik. It seemed
entirely possible that the whole village of Samarah could have fit on one of its decks. By
the time the schooner's stern lights faded into the dusty night, Rikus felt more certain
than ever that he had made the right decision in electing to hide. Fighting the schooner
would have been like battling an entire legion.