Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 5 - The Cerulean Storm (4 page)

The mul's puzzlement did not change the fact that the giants were here, and he knew it
would not be easy to chase them away. As he sprinted across the valley floor, Rikus
studied the terrain ahead, pondering the best way to save the farmers. He still could not
see the plantation itself, for the buildings and most of the faro orchards remained hidden
behind Rasda's Wall.

A careworn woman holding a baby in her arms reached the end of the faro field, then
sprinted into the rocky desert. The hook-nosed giant chuckled in mad delight and stooped
over to reach for her. His knuckles scraped along the ground, raising an orange cloud of
dust. She dove to the side, barely escaping the long fingers.

The woman cradled her infant against her body and rolled several times. Rikus thought she
might come up running, but upon righting herself, she stopped to look up at her attacker.
The giant was already reaching for her again. She laid her infant beside a nearby bush,
then fled in the direction opposite Rikus. As she ran, the woman screamed loudly to keep
the titan's attention fixed on her.

“This way!” Rikus yelled, still running.

The woman continued away, apparently unable to hear him. The giant's hand descended and
grasped her. As the brute plucked the woman off the ground, Rikus could see nothing of her
except a pair of kicking legs. The titan chortled madly, then slipped her into his bulging
shoulder satchel and reached for the infant. As the giant pinched the baby between a
massive thumb and forefinger, it seemed to Rikus that he could hear nothing but the
child's wailing voice.

The rest of the farmers came spilling out of the faro field. With the Scourge's magic,
Rikus could hear their individual shrieks of panic as the second giant stooped over to
scoop them up.

Suddenly, Magnus's voice howled over the valley, amplified by the power of his wind-magic.
“You giants, leave those people alone!”

The command filled Rikus's ears with a painful ringing. His first instinct was to drop his
sword, but he forced himself to retain his grip and concentrated on the cries of the
farmers. As the windsinger's voice faded away, the mul heard their voices crying out in
astonishment. The paupers turned toward the butte and two pointed toward the summit.

Rikus waved his arm to attract their attention. “Come this way!”

This time, the mul was dose enough to make himself heard. Several farmers looked in his
direction, then the whole group began to run toward him.

The hook-nosed giant stooped over and smashed half a dozen farmers beneath his fist.

“Don't run no more!” The words were loud enough that even without the Scourge, Rikus would
have had no trouble understanding them.

The giant raised his hand to strike again. To Rikus's relief, the other one grabbed his
partner's enormous arm before any more paupers were smashed. “Patch said to catch them,
not smash them,” said the second titan. He pointed at Rikus. “Besides, here comes a
dangerous-looking one.”

“That's right!” Rikus yelled. Though he was still two dozen steps away, the mul raised his
sword. “Hurt any more of my people, and I'll make your death a slow one!”

The first giant crinkled his hooked nose and glanced at his partner. “I'll smash him, Tay?”

“No, Yab,” Tay countered, pulling Yab back. “Your brother would crack my head if I let a
little man cut you.”

Tay stepped past the farmers and lumbered forward. The giant stood taller than the
four-story townhouses that lined the streets of the nobles' quarter in Tyr. As he came
within striking range, the mul had to crane his neck back to keep a watch on the titan's
enormous hands.

The giant reached down to grasp Rikus. The mul waited until the palm filled the sky above
him, then voiced his mightiest war cry. The Scourge flashed up, its enchanted blade
slicing cleanly through the sinew and bone of three sword-length fingers.

Tay bellowed in pain. Rikus dove forward and rolled. Hot stones scraped at his shoulders
and back, then the mul was on his feet again, running toward the open space between the
titan's ankles.

“Stomp him!” yelled Yab.

Tay lifted a foot high into the air. Rikus dodged toward the opposite leg, and the giant's
heel crashed down behind him. The impact was so hard that it bounced the mul off the
ground.

Rikus swung his sword at Tay's leg. Again, the ancient steel passed through the giant's
flesh easily, slicing through the vulnerable knee joint. The mul whirled around instantly,
striking at the back of the giant's other ankle. There was a sick sort of pop as the
tendon separated, balling up into two gnarled masses beneath the titan's skin. Rikus
pulled the Scourge free and ran as fast as he could.

Tay screamed and spun around to catch him. The giant's slashed knee buckled as soon as he
set his foot back on the ground. When the titan tried to steady himself with his other
leg, his severed ankle flopped about uselessly. He pitched over sideways, hitting the
ground with a thunderous crash. He thrashed about madly, clutching at his wounds and
raising a billowing cloud of orange dust.

The farmers fled toward the butte, giving Tay a wide berth and cheering Rikus. The mul
waved them on, then turned his attention to Yab. The giant's crag-toothed mouth hung open,
while his gaze flickered back and forth between his injured partner and Rikus.

“You've had your fun,” Rikus called. He stopped and pointed his sword at the giant's
satchel. “Put those people down.”

Yab's face turned crimson with anger. “No,” he boomed. “First return our Oracle.”

“What Oracle?” Rikus demanded.

“The giants' Oracle,” the giant replied, glowering. “The one you Tyrians stole.”

“We never stole anything,” Rikus snarled, starting toward the giant again.

“Liar!” Yab bent over to scoop a boulder off the ground.

Magnus's lyrical voice rang out from the base of the butte. He sang a deep, somber ballad
that filled the entire valley with a strain of melancholy notes. The morning grew still
for a moment, then the windsinger raised his voice in a pulsing vibrato that sent whirls
of dust scurrying across the desert. Rikus heard a gentle whistle behind him, then felt a
strong wind blowing toward the giant.

Yab hurled his boulder.

Magnus's voice rose to a crashing crescendo, and a tremendous gust blasted past Rikus, so
powerful that it swept the mul off his feet and hurled him to the ground. In the same
instant, the gale caught Yab's boulder and flung it back into the giant's face. The stone
bounced off the titan's cheek, raising a shiny lump and opening a long gash below the eye.

Yab ran his hand along the cut, then licked the blood from his fingers as if he were
checking to make sure it was real.

Rikus returned to his feet. After glancing back to see Magnus's thick-limbed form plodding
toward him, he resumed his walk toward Yab. “Put those people down,” he yelled. “I won't
tell you again.”

The giant reached into the satchel and withdrew a gray-haired half-elf. He hurtled the man
to the ground, smashing the man's frail body on the rocks.

Snarling in anger, Rikus sprinted forward. Yab thrust his hand into the sack again, this
time withdrawing the careworn mother Rikus had seen earlier. “Stop there!”

The mul came to a reluctant stop, realizing that he could not save the woman by continuing
his charge. He would have to find some other way to make the giant obey.

Yab grinned maliciously. “Now drop your little knife and come over here.”

Rikus glanced back at lay's groaning form. “I don't think so.”

The mul retreated toward the wounded giant, keeping his sword ready in case Tay lashed out
at him.

“What're you doing?” Yab demanded.

“The same thing you are,” Rikus replied, stopping a few paces from Tay's head. The wounded
giant growled and reached toward Rikus with his uninjured hand, but stopped short when the
mul placed his blade between the titan's fingers and himself. “What you do to those
people, I do to your friend.”

Yab frowned and scratched his ear. He stared at Rikus and muttered to himself in muffled
tones, then shrugged and stepped into the faro fields.

“Where are you going?” Rikus asked, puzzled by the giant's peculiar retreat.

“Don't hurt Tay, or all these people die. And I can find plenty more, too.” The giant
stepped behind Rasda's Wall and disappeared from sight.

Rikus started to pursue, then thought of the plantation behind the ridge and decided to
wait. By pursuing immediately, he would only provoke Yab into a fit of destructive rage.
Instead, the mul thought it wiser to interrogate Tay about the condition of the farm and
its inhabitants, then decide what to do.

Before Rikus could begin his inquiries, Magnus stepped to his side. “I
sent a wind-whisper to Sadira.”

“Is she coming?” Rikus asked.

“Not yet,” the windsinger replied. “She and the others were just leaving for the council
meeting, and at the time it looked like you had things well in hand. Should I tell her I
was wrong?”

Rikus shook his head. “Let's see what Tay has to say.” He waved a hand toward Rasda's
Wall. “Keep a watch and let me know if you see Yab coming back from the farm.”

“He's probably too busy gathering more hostages, but I'll keep an eye turned in that
direction.” The wind-singer positioned himself so that one of his round eyes was directed
toward the ridge and the other toward Rikus.

Gripping his sword with both hands, the mul laid the blade across the giant's immense
gullet. “What are you and Yab doing here?”

“We c-came for our Oracle.” Tay could not keep his plump lips from quivering as he spoke.
“Two Tyrians stole it, your king and a nobleman.”

Rikus frowned. “Tithian and Agis of Asticles?”

“That sounds like what our chief called them.” Tay kept platter-sized eyes fixed on the
mul's face.

“Don't lie to me,” the mul said. He pressed down until a trickle of blood ran from beneath
his blade. “Agis is no thief. Besides, he wouldn't help Tithian.”

“Not even to kill the Dragon?” asked Magnus, still watching Rasda's Wall.

“What do you mean?” Rikus asked.

Instead of answering, the windsinger asked Tay, “What does this Oracle of yours look like?”

“A ball of black obsidian, no bigger than you,” replied the giant.

“It sounds like the Dark Lens,” Magnus noted.

“The Oracle!” the giant insisted. “If you don't return it, we'll raze every farm in the
valley.”

Paying the giant's threat no attention, Rikus asked the windsinger, “How did you know he
was talking about the lens?”

Magnus shrugged modestly. 'Tithian had to be looking for something when he snuck out of
Tyr,“ he said. ”My guess is that Agis caught him, and they both found the lens in the
giants' possession."

“They stole it!” Tay growled. “And you've got to give it back-or something bad's going to
happen to us all.”

“What?” Rikus demanded.

“Only the chiefs know,” Tay answered. “But giants won't be the only ones to suffer. We
were guarding the Oracle for everyone on Athas.”

“You're going to have to do better than that,” Rikus threatened.

“Not at the moment,” said Magnus.

The windsinger pointed toward Rasda's Wall, where Yab's head had just appeared above the
low shoulder. He was looking back toward the plantation, yelling, “Come quick, Sachem
Patch! Tay's hurt.”

“What hurt him?” From the faintness of the reply, Rikus guessed that this giant was a
considerable distance away-probably in the fields on the far side of the farm.

“A little bald man,” yelled Yab. “He looks kind of like a dwarf.”

“Tay let a
dwarf
hurt him?” chuckled a fourth giant. “What did Tay do-slip on the blood when he stomped it?”

A storm of laughter erupted behind the outcrop, and Rikus knew he had seriously
underestimated the number of giants attacking the plantation. Apparently, while Yab and
Tay chased down the escaping paupers, most of the war party had remained behind to destroy
the farm itself.

Rikus looked back to Tay. “How many warriors in your group?”

“Eight,” Tay said. He smirked at the mul.

“We'd better run for it,” Rikus said. He stepped away from Tay, pulling the windsinger
along with him.

“No!” boomed Tay. “Stop!”

Rikus looked up and saw the giant's hand descending toward their heads, balled up in a
tight fist as large as a shield. The mul shoved Magnus in one direction and dove in the
other lay's fist landed between them, cracking stones and raising a plume of orange dust.
In the next instant, they were both on their feet and scrambling over the rocky ground at
their best sprint.

It took a dozen steps and two more close calls before they were safely out of the crippled
titan's reach, and even then they continued toward the far end of the valley at their best
pace.

Magnus came over to Rikus's side. “Should I send for Sadira now?”

Before answering, the mul glanced over his shoulder. Yab was stepping out from behind
Rasda's Wall, no longer carrying his shoulder satchel. Behind him came another giant, much
larger than either him or Tay. This one wore a black shawl draped over one eye.

“Call her,” Rikus said. “But tell her not to do anything until she sees eight giants. If
we let any of them escape, it could take days to track them down.”

The windsinger nodded, then a soft, lilting strain rose from deep within his throat. So
perfect was his breath control that his voice betrayed no hint of strain, even though he
was still running. As Magnus repeated the message, air whirled around the windsinger's
head with a hushed, melodic hissing that sounded to the mul like whispering ghosts.

Magnus completed the message, finishing with, “To my brother the parching wind I commit
these words. Carry them to the ears of Sadira and no one else.”

An eerie silence replaced the hissing of the wind. Then Rikus saw a series of dust-whirls
skipping across the desert as Magnus's spell streaked toward Tyr.