Troy Denning - The Cerulean Storm

“Speaking of Sadira, I’m sure she could solve our problem easily enough,” Caelum suggested. “Maybe Magnus should send a message to her?”

Sadira had stayed behind in Tyr, making provisions with the Veiled Alliance to help defend the city in the legion’s absence. She had promised to catch the legion long before it reached the giants, and Neeva was surprised that the sorceress had not joined them already.

“That’s the wisest thing anyone has suggested yet,” Magnus said. He went a few steps up the road and began to work his magic.

“I’ll take a line across anyway,” Rikus said, finishing his knot. “We don’t have any time to waste if Sadira can’t come yet.”

After handing the other end of the rope to Caelum, Rikus reached out and thrust his hand into the square hole where the first missing buttress had been lodged. The mul swung out onto the cliff and reached for the next hole, grimacing as his face rubbed over the hot stone. His fingertips barely caught the bottom edge of the dark square. He worked them deeper into the cavity, then released his first hand and slipped it into the next hole.

Rikus shrieked in fear and surprise. He jerked his hand out of the far hole and began to fling it around madly. A silvery creature about as long as a stiletto had attached itself to his middle finger.

Neeva pulled her dagger and kneeled at the edge of the road. “Hold still, Rikus!” she ordered. “I can’t see what you’ve got.”

“I’ve got nothing!” the mul roared. “It’s got me.”

In spite of his shock, Rikus managed to steady his hand. A huge scorpion had clamped its pincers onto his middle finger, cutting him clear to the bone. The barb of the tail was buried deep into the back of his hand, with a great cone of red flesh already swelling up around the puncture.

“That scorpion’s huge!” Caelum observed. “It couldn’t have been in the hole when the buttress was there.”

“Who cares?” Rikus growled. “Just get it off!” The mul pushed his hand toward the road but could not quite reach because he had to cross his arm in front of his body.

Neeva lay down on her belly and stretched out to cut the pincers. The scorpion pulled its tail from Rikus’s hand and struck at her. It moved with such blinding speed that she barely managed to twist her blade flat and deflect the venom-dripping barb. She changed targets and sliced at the thing’s body, but the creature was every bit as quick as she was. Its tail lashed again, this time arcing at her wrist.

Neeva pulled back to avoid being stung. “I’ve seen lightning strike slower!”

“I could’ve told you that!” Rikus growled.

Pulling his hand back toward his body, the mul lowered his head and opened his mouth. There was a crunch of splintering carapace, then Rikus turned toward her and spit the scorpion’s severed tail from between his sharp teeth. The mul extended his arm toward her. Already, his hand was so swollen that it looked more like a bear’s paw.

“Get the damn thing off-now!”

As Neeva reached for the scorpion, its carapace suddenly changed from pearly gray to yellow. The color did not fade so much as slip off the arachnid’s body like a passing shadow. For an instant, the formless apparition hovered in the air, then it floated down to the hole into which Rikus had been sticking his hand when he was stung.

The scorpion itself turned gold and began to shrink, until it was so small that its pincers would no longer fit around the mul’s thick fingers. It fell free and tumbled away, its tiny body vanishing from sight long before it hit the ground.

“By the sun!” cursed Caelum.

Neeva tossed her dagger onto the road, then grabbed Rikus’s arm with both hands. She felt her husband’s powerful arms slip around her waist, then the dwarf pulled both her and the mul back onto the road. Caelum kneeled in the dust and grabbed Rikus’s wrist with both hands, his stubby fingers pressing down on the veins to shut off the blood flow. Neeva did not need to ask why the sun-cleric was so concerned. Of all the poisonous beasts in the Athasian desert, gold scorpions were among the worst, with venom powerful enough to drop an adult mekillot in five steps. Of course, such creatures did not normally change sizes or disguise their color beneath silver shadows, but Neeva was too concerned with Rikus’s welfare to dwell on the matter right now.

“Hold his wrist, tight!” Caelum ordered.

Neeva did as commanded, and her husband raised his own hand to the sky. “The sun’s heat will boil the poison away.”

Rikus grimaced. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” The mul’s eyes were glassy and his words slurred.

Caelum lowered his hand, fiery red and smoking from the fingertips. It glowed so brightly that it was translucent, save for the dark bones beneath the skin. The dwarf laid his palm over the scorpion puncture and squeezed Rikus’s hand as hard as he could. There was a soft sizzle, and streamers of greasy black smoke rose between his fingers.

Rkard slipped over to watch, placing his back to the cliffs. His face paled at the sight of Rikus’s scorched skin, but he did not look away. Neeva considered sending him elsewhere but decided against it. Her son was as much a sun-cleric as he was a warrior. If she attempted to shield him from the unpleasant sight of a wound, he would never learn his father’s art.

When an involuntary hiss slipped through Rikus’s clenched teeth, Rkard stepped closer and laid his hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “The sun demands pain in exchange for its magic.”

“I know.” The mul winced then added, “Your father’s done this to me before.”

Caelum continued to hold his hands over the wound for many moments, until Neeva could no longer see the bones outlined beneath his flesh, and the fiery glow had completely faded. By then, Rikus was only half-conscious and hardly seemed to realize where he was.

“What happened?” asked Sadira’s voice.

Neeva looked up to see the sorceress coming toward the small group, trailing black wisps of the shadow spell that she had used to answer Magnus’s summons.

“A gold scorpion stung him,” Neeva explained. The sorceress kneeled at her husband’s side and took his injured hand between hers. Although the swelling had gone down, the flesh remained black and scaly.

“Is he going to die?” Sadira asked.

“No. Father won’t allow it!” said Rkard, his hairless brow furrowed in determination.

“That’s right,” said Caelum. “He’ll be a little sick for a few hours, but he’ll live.”

The sorceress’s blue eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. “Thank you.”

Sadira rose, cradling her husband’s limp form in her arms. Although the mul probably weighed half again as much as a normal man, the sorceress showed no sign of strain at lifting his heavy body.

She passed Rikus to Magnus. “If you’ll bear Rikus for a while, I’ll get us across this gap.”

The sorceress took the rope from around Rikus’s waist and lay down at the end of the road. She leaned over the brink and tied one end to the last buttress, then returned to her feet and tossed the coil toward the merchant standing on the other side of the gap.

At first, Neeva thought the rope would fall short of its target, but Sadira uttered a quiet incantation that sent the line drifting straight into the merchant’s hands. “If you’ll tie that off, I’ll bring you and your wagon across,” she called.

For a moment, the man seemed too astonished to reply. Then he dropped down and fastened the line to a buttress beneath the road. Sadira smiled and yelled for him to stand back, then took the rope in her hand and spoke the words to another spell. A sheet of crimson light spread outward from both sides of the cord. Within moments, a red, flickering ribbon of luminescence spanned the gap, connecting the two severed ends of the Cloud Road.