Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 5 - The Cerulean Storm (42 page)

As Sadira started forward, a thunderbolt crackled down from the sky and another torrential
downpour began. No one paid it much attention, for it was not the first rainstorm that had
burst over the valley.

Then a sharp voice boomed. “Stop!”

Rikus leaped up, his empty hands tensed into weapons, and Sadira put the Dark Lens down,
already preparing to cast a spell through it. Rkard also stood, raising his hand toward
the crimson sun, and even Neeva, wincing with pain, pushed herself to her feet. The
Athasian rulers reacted just as quickly, the Oba and Hamanu furrowing their brows as they
prepared to use the Way, while Nibenay turned his palm toward the ground.

“You can't do this!” said the voice. Something about it seemed faintly familiar, but there
was a strained, sizzling tone that made it difficult for Rikus to place. “Stop. I demand
it!”

A sphere of blue mist formed in the rains, hovering in the space between Sadira and the
sorcerer-kings. It began to ripple and waver, slowly taking on the ghostly features of an
old man's gaunt, sharp-featured face.

“Tithian!” Rikus gasped.
“I
thought you were dead!”

Another bolt of lightning danced across the sky, and a peal of thunder shook the entire
ridge. “Not dead, imprisoned. Before you destroy the lens, free me.”

“To do what?” demanded Neeva, limping to Rikus's side. “Become king of Athas?”

“No,” the head replied, his face suddenly growing pained and lonely. “Kill me if you wish,
but you can't leave me here.”

“And what will happen if we do, Usurper?” demanded Nibenay, a crooked smile spreading
across his thin snout. “Will you make it rain on us?”

The sorcerer-king lowered his hand and chuckled. Hamanu and the Oba also began to chortle,
their faces growing more relaxed and less suspicious.

“If you can strike me down, do it now,” said Sadira, staring into Tithian's watery eyes.
“That's the only way you'll stop me.”

The wind began to howl, and the rain came down harder. More thunder crashed over the
ridge, and forks of lightning danced through the sky-all without touching Sadira or anyone
else.

“I thought as much,” said Sadira, stepping straight through the king's misty face. “Make
it storm all you like. Athas needs the rain.”

Another crash of thunder rumbled overhead, and more lightning danced through the dark
clouds. Rikus chuckled, then tipped his head back and opened his mouth, allowing the cool
water to pour into his mouth. So did Rkard, and Neeva as well. Soon, everyone on the ridge
was drinking water straight from the sky, making good use of Tithian's bluster.

Tithian finally grew tired of his humiliation. “Without me, you would never have slain the
Dragon,” he said, letting his image dissolve into mist. “All I ask is that you repay me
with a merciful death.”

“You killed Borys because you wanted to be immortal-now you are,” scoffed the Oba,
signaling Sadira to come forward.

The rainstorm died as suddenly as it had arisen, and the sorceress carried the Dark Lens
to the edge of the ridge. Without pause, she hurled the obsidian orb into the lava lake.
She and the others watched it fall. When it hit, a long, steady rumble rolled up from deep
within the Ring of Fire, and the entire hill began to shake. At last, there was a
deafening crash, and a plume of black flame shot up from the lake. It rose high into the
sky, piercing Tithian's storm clouds like an arrow, and arced toward the sun.

When it finally disappeared, the Oba nodded. “It is done,” she said, and began to walk
away.

Nibenay cast a cold glance in Rikus's direction, then also started toward home.

Hamanu waited a few moments before following, pausing as he passed the mul's side. “I once
told you that there is a difference between daring and insolence,” he said. “I trust you
will remember that difference in future dealings between Tyr and Urik.”

Rikus nodded. “As long as you keep in mind the difference between men and chattel-at least
as far as Tyrians are concerned.”

“I always do,” replied the sorcerer-king. “It is my slaves who forget.”

Hamanu left, leaving Rikus and the others alone. They watched the three rulers for a short
time, until the trio grew tired of walking and each took flight in a different direction.

Once they were out of sight, Rikus let out a deep sigh of relief. “We made it this far,”
he said. “We should start for home ourselves.”

Neeva's mouth tightened with sadness, and tears began to well in her green eyes. “I guess
we'd better.” She looked away and wiped her cheeks, then laid her hand on Rkard's shoulder
and began to limp down the hill. “Home is a long way off.”

Rikus felt Sadira's hand pushing him after the warrior. When the mul looked back, he saw
wisps of black shadow rising from the corners of her emberlike eyes.

She smiled with genuine joy. “Go,” she whispered.

The mul returned her smile, though with a little more sadness than hers, and kissed her on
the cheek. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she replied, giving him another gentle push. “But Neeva and Rkard need
you.”

The mul nodded, then turned and caught up to Neeva and her son. “Have you given much
thought to where home will be now?” he asked.

The warrior shrugged. “In Kled, I suppose,” she said. “It is Rkard's home.”

“Maybe he'd like to live in Tyr,” Rikus suggested. “We could take him to Kemalok as often
as he likes.”

The boy's face lit up. “You mean we could live with you and Sadira?”

The mul frowned, not quite sure how to answer this question.

“No, you'd just live with Rikus, in his townhouse,” said Sadira, stepping to Neeva's side.
“When I return, I'll stay at Agis's estate-but you could come to visit.”

Neeva looked from Sadira to Rikus, her brow furrowed and her lips tightly pursed. “You two
have this all worked out, don't you?” she asked.

Rikus felt the heat rising to his face. “Yes,” he said. “I guess we do.”

Neeva shook her head in amazement, then slipped her arm through Rikus's. “Then it seems
Rkard and I have no choice in the matter.” She grasped Sadira's hand and squeezed it
warmly. “We'll go back to Tyr.”

“Good,” said Sadira. “I'm looking forward to seeing you there.”

Neeva frowned. “Seeing us there?” she asked.

Sadira nodded. “I'll be staying here for a few weeks,” she said. “There are some wards
that I must place around Rajaat's new prison. Tithian is not the only mortal on Athas who
lusts after immortality, and I intend to be certain that I know if anyone else attempts to
achieve it by freeing Rajaat.”

Rikus and Neeva glanced at each other. “I guess that means we'll be staying, too,” Rikus
said. “We can't cross the Sea of Silt without you.”

Sadira smiled. “Of course you can.”

The sorceress pursed her lips and began to blow. Black shadow billowed from her mouth, and
she used her hands to form it into the shape of a boat. Soon, the wispy image of a dhow
sat before them, although it had no sail or keel. Sadira tossed a jagged piece of black
basalt into the bilge and spoke her incantation. The dhow turned as solid as stone,-then
rose off the ground and hovered in the air before them.

“Don't try to fly too far in one day. You have to set down on a mudflat or island each day
before dark.” The sorceress reached over the gunnel and pointed to the rock she had thrown
into the bilge. “In the morning, hold the stone up to the sun, and the boat will form
again.”

Rikus helped Neeva into the boat. As Rkard climbed in beside his mother, the mul faced
Sadira. “Hurry back,” he said. “We'll miss you until you return.”

Sadira took Rikus's arm and guided him toward the boat's tiller. “You have a long journey
ahead,” she said. “And remember, you need to make landfall before dark.”

The mul climbed into the stern. Sadira kissed him on the cheek and gave the dhow a shove.
The little craft streaked into the sky, climbing through a thin layer of clouds and into
the full fury of the crimson sun...