Troy Denning - The Cerulean Storm

A kes’trekel came streaking out of the Dark Lens, its curled talons and hooked beak poised to strike. The giant raptor seemed as real as any Rikus had ever seen-which surprised him. The mul was not a complete stranger to the Way, and he knew that battles between mindbenders were fought inside their minds.

When the bird hit, any doubts about its reality vanished. The kes’trekel’s talons sank deep into Hamanu’s shoulders, bowling him over. The mul released his hold on the dagger, then watched the great bird carry the sorcerer-king’s screaming form toward the front of the arch.

As he realized what he was seeing, Rikus did not know whether to rejoice or be sick. With the Dark Lens, Tithian could create physical versions of his mental constructs. While that ability was proving useful now, the mul knew that when the time came to kill the king, it would be every bit as dangerous to him and his friends as it was to the sorcerer-kings.

Rikus rolled across the ground and grabbed the Scourge, then returned to his feet in time to see the kes’trekel hurl itself into the midst of the sorcerer-kings. The mul started forward, knowing he did not have long to attack before his enemies recovered.

“No, Rikus, wait!” Sacha ordered. Then, to Tithian, the head said, “Give me a light!”

As the king uttered an incantation, Rikus watched the sorcerer-kings counterattack the kes’trekel. They made short work of the raptor, reducing it to a cloud of feathers in an instant.

A bright white light flared behind the mul, causing him to cast a dark shadow. A pair of burning blue eyes and a gashlike mouth appeared in the silhouette’s head. The limbs began to thicken, and the figure peeled itself off the ground.

Sacha had summoned a shadow giant.

At the other end of the arch, Andropinis cursed. He and the other sorcerer-kings started forward, yelling incantations and gesturing madly. The shadow giant turned and spewed a black mist in their direction. The passage filled with a thick, impenetrable fog. The vapor quickly rolled back to engulf the mul and his companions in its bone-chilling murk.

“How am I supposed to f-fight in this?” Rikus demanded. His teeth were already chattering, and his flesh was growing numb from the cold.

“You won’t have to,” Sacha answered. “The sorcerer-kings know better than to enter the Black.”

Rikus saw a pair of blue eyes drifting toward him, then he felt an icy hand close over his wrist.

The Dragon turned his remaining hand toward the ground. Sadira saw the telltale shimmer of magic rising into the palm. With both hands injured, she could not imagine he intended to cast a spell, any more than she could imagine where the energy was coming from. The obsidian globes in his stomach were shattered, so the sorceress knew he could not be drawing the power from any animals that might be lurking in this wasteland. That meant Borys was drawing the energy from foliage. Sadira did not see so much as a blade of grass anywhere on the desolate plain, but she knew there had to be plants somewhere. She turned her own palm toward the ground and began to draw. Even when the sun was down, she was a powerful sorceress and could rely on the normal energy sources to cast her spells.

It took a moment, then she felt the familiar tingle of magic rising through her arm. The energy seemed to be coming from the cliffs at the edge of the plain. She would have to be careful not to draw too much power too rapidly, for fear of robbing all the life force from the unseen plants and destroying them.

Before the sorceress’s eyes, the gash on Borys’s forearm slowly began to seal itself.

“We’ll never kill Borys if he can heal himself!” Rkard exclaimed. The boy stood at her side, staring in horror at the Dragon’s closing wounds.

“We’ll find a way,” Sadira replied, infusing her voice with more confidence than she felt.

The sorceress closed her hand to the flow of energy and pulled a small piece of brown tuber from her pocket. Keeping one eye on the Dragon, the sorceress uttered an incantation over the root, then held it out to Rkard.

“Eat this. It’ll make you so fast, Borys won’t catch you.” As Sadira spoke, she saw the fingers on Borys’s useless hand begin to wiggle.

The boy refused to take the root. “You should eat it,” he said. “I tried to tell you before-I’m not supposed to kill the Dragon.”

Sadira frowned. “What are you saying? Of course you are.”

Rkard shook his head. “Jo’orsh told Borys that I decided to kill the Dragon,” the boy explained. “But that’s wrong. When he and Sa’ram came to Agis’s house, I asked them why they were giving me the Belt of Rank and King Rkard’s crown. They said it was because I was going to kill the Dragon-so I thought-”

“They were telling you it’s your destiny,” Sadira interrupted.

Rkard did not answer right away, and the sorceress watched the fingers of Borys’s hand close into a fist. She thought he might come after them then, but the Dragon summoned more energy and did not move. Apparently, he intended to leave them no weaknesses to exploit when he attacked.

After a moment, Rkard said quietly, “Borys told Jo’orsh there’s no such thing as destiny. I didn’t believe him at first, but then Jo’orsh said people choose their destinies.” He paused, then added, “Only, I never chose mine.”

“Then how come he and Sa’ram gave you the belt and crown?”

Rkard shook his head. “I don’t know,” the boy replied. “And I’m not sure how they got them in the first place. The belt and the crown were stolen from our treasuries when the slavers raided Kled.”

“Tithian!” the sorceress hissed. For some reason, the king had made up the whole story about Rkard being destined to kill the Dragon-and had used the belt and crown to convince the banshees that it was true. “I’ll kill him!”

“Only if you kill Borys first,” Rkard answered. “So eat the root yourself.”

“No, I want you safe.”

“You can’t make me safe,” answered the boy. “Besides, Borys isn’t as worried about me. He’ll come after you first.”

The Dragon was still drawing energy from the ground. The wound on his leg had already healed, and the nub of a hand had appeared on the stump of his severed wrist.

“Go see what you can do for your mother,” Sadira said.

The sorceress put the root in her mouth and fixed her eye on the crimson globe encasing Borys’s head. Given that Rkard’s spell had prevented the Dragon from using the Way, she suspected that he would dispel it when he recovered the full use of his hands. Sadira turned her palm toward the ground, wondering if the beast would find it any easier to use his mental powers from inside a sphere of darkness.

It seemed to Rikus they had been floating in the Black forever, the shadow giant’s icy fingers entwined around their wrists and icy strands of gossamer filament brushing across their faces. The mul ached to the bones with cold, and only the vibrations of his constant shivering kept the ice crystals from completely encasing his body. Save for the red shimmer of the Dark Lens, glimmering a short distance to his side, Rikus could see nothing.

“It’s t-taking t-too long,” Rikus said, hardly able to speak because his teeth were chattering so badly.

“In the Black, time has little meaning,” the shadow giant replied. Earlier, he had introduced himself as Khidar. “But I will deliver you to the other side in a matter of instants in your time-provided Sacha was not mistaken about the light. Normally, we cannot approach Ur Draxa because there are no shadows in this land.”

“A few instants is still too long,” the mul worried. “If the sorcerer-kings know the arch’s password-”

“That knowledge will do them no good,” replied Khidar. “My people will keep the arch filled with the Black until you have killed Borys. If the sorcerer-kings step into it, they will never leave.”