Troy Denning - The Cerulean Storm

Staying submerged, the king swung under his log and came up on the other side, looking toward the top of the arch. He saw the small figure of a halfling male. The man was peering into the tangle of logs, no doubt searching for Tithian’s body, and at the same time slipping a cone-shaped pellet into the groove of a tiny crossbow.

Tithian ducked back under the water, knowing from experience how deadly the little crossbows could be. During his short float trip down what had once been Ur Draxa’s processional avenue, he had seen dozens of halflings using the weapons, indiscriminately killing the former residents of the city. They seemed entirely determined to murder every non-halfling in sight.

Once the king judged the floodwaters had carried him safely out of range, he pulled himself onto his log and gasped for breath. Although he was using the Way to augment his strength, the effort of clinging to the tree in roiling floodwaters was wearing on his old man’s body. If this chase did not end soon, he feared he would be in no condition to steal the Lens back from Sadira.

Tithian propped himself up on his log and looked ahead. All he could see in front of him was a bizarre, watery city that had once been Ur Draxa. The stern architecture had been replaced by flowing bends and gentle curves, with not a sharp corner in sight. The granite arches and marble buildings were now made of colorful rockstem, while the monuments lining the avenue depicted mild-mannered halflings. Instead of axes and swords, these small heroes held writing quills and vials of peculiar shapes, their placid expressions and serene smiles strangely at odds with the murderous behavior of the bloodthirsty warriors now roaming the canals.

Finally, Tithian spotted Rajaat’s looming form at the end of the avenue, a walking storm of cerulean clouds. Once again, a crown of lightning crackled around his head, and gales of rain poured from his hands. As Tithian watched, the ancient sorcerer lifted a foot and kicked open the enormous gates. Rajaat ducked beneath the keystone and vanished from the king’s sight. The floodwaters rushed after him, pouring onto the plain beyond.

Sadira descended toward the crater and saw that the lake of bubbling black goo had evaporated from the basin, leaving the interior as smooth as a glass bowl. In places, the sheen rose almost as high as the rim, reflecting the rays of the blue sun back into the center of the valley. There, the azure beams gathered in an ethereal ball that the sorceress found as disconcerting as the new color of the heavens. As beautiful as they were, blue skies and blue suns had no place above the deserts of Athas. They harkened back to a gentler age, an age that could only be restored by killing most of what now lived on the dusty planet. As much as Sadira longed for a better world, she would not pay the price that Rajaat demanded. She had to stop him.

As the sorceress circled the basin, cold fingers of apprehension spread through her chest, for she saw no sign of Neeva’s hiding place. The rocks where Rikus had concealed the warrior were gone, fused into the lustrous veneer of the cauldron. Sadira tried to stay calm by reminding herself of Rkard’s strength. The boy was more than strong enough to carry his mother to safety-assuming that whatever had scoured the crater clean had allowed him the chance.

With an increasingly heavy heart, Sadira crossed to the outside slope of the rim and continued her search. She did not call out. A gentle breeze was blowing toward the city, and it would not do to have it carry her voice across the plain. She could already see that Rajaat’s towering form had left Ur Draxa and was coming toward her, and the last thing she wanted was for him to hear her calling for Rkard and Neeva.

Sadira landed on the north side of the crater, where a high section in the opposite rim would shelter her from Rajaat’s view. She climbed up to a notch in the crest and deposited the Dark Lens in the nook. She filled the gaps around the orb with dirt and rocks, her magic-enhanced strength making quick work of the task. The sorceress was not trying to hide the Lens so much as prop it up and camouflage it well enough to keep it from being seen at first glance.

After pausing to look around the area one last time, Sadira climbed up to the rim’s crest. She slowly circled back toward Ur Draxa, scanning the exterior slope of the crater and forcing herself to resist the temptation to call the young mul’s name.

The sorceress did not know what she would do if the boy had left or had died. She was counting on his spell to do what she could not: exterminate Rajaat. Sadira’s powers, based as they were on the ancient sorcerer’s own magic, would be of little use in the coming battle. But Rkard’s powers were the opposite of Rajaat’s. They were based in the element of fire, while the ancient sorcerer was closely allied with the element of water. If anything could destroy Rajaat, it would be Rkard’s magic.

The sorceress stepped around a jagged crag, and the ramparts of Ur Draxa came into sight, glowing scarlet and emerald with the brilliant hues of living rockstem. Rajaat had already crossed most of the plain. As he came forward, forks of lightning shot down from his crown to strike at the ground, and torrents of rain poured from his hands. Thunder rumbled from his mouth, and dark, seething plumes of vapor shot from his nostrils. On his heels came a frothing wall of water, rolling across the broken ground and rapidly flooding the whole plain.

Sadira ducked back behind the crag to prepare for the coming battle.

“Where’s Rikus?” whispered a familiar voice.

Sadira bit her tongue to keep from yelling and spun around. Rkard stood a few steps away, crouching behind a small boulder. The sorceress went to his side.

“I was afraid-I thought you had left,” she whispered, hugging him tight. “Is your mother safe?”

The boy nodded. “The black stuff started to boil, and we had to move. She sent me up to get you,” he said. “Where’s Rikus?”

“We’ll look for him later,” Sadira said, standing. “Right now, I need your help.”

Tears welled in Rkard’s eyes. “Rikus isn’t coming back, is he?” he asked. “He’s dead, just like my father!”

Sadira kneeled in front of the boy. “We don’t know that, Rkard!” she snapped, grasping his shoulders tightly. “But we have to worry about ourselves and your mother now. Rajaat’s coming, and I need your help to stop him.”

Rkard looked away and bit his lip, gathering himself together. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing you haven’t done many times before.”

Sadira guided him toward the Dark Lens, explaining her plan as they walked. When she finished, she made the young mul repeat it twice. The sorceress did not think Rkard would have trouble understanding what she required, for the task was simple, and he was a smart boy. She just wanted to make sure he knew that the plan would work even if she were killed.

After helping Rkard find a good hiding place, Sadira climbed a quarter of the way around the crater. When she came to a place where the outside slope fell away in a sheer drop, she stopped. This would be a good place to wait. She could jump behind the crater rim to shelter herself from Rajaat’s magic, while her ebon-skinned body would not be harmed by the plunge to the sharp rocks below.

Rajaat’s flashing crown appeared above the opposite rim, filling the cauldron with echoes of crackling lightning. The entire basin shook with the power of his thunderous bellows. The ancient sorcerer started to climb, and frothing floodwaters began to whirl around the base of the crater.

Sadira turned a palm toward the ground, summoning the power to cast a normal spell. As the energy flowed into her body, she pulled a stick of incense from her pocket and watched Rajaat’s head appear above the far crest. His vaporish skin hung from his face in billowing folds, with dark creases that gave him a fierce and sinister appearance. From the size of his eyes and the diameter of his crown, she guessed the ancient sorcerer was about the size of a giant.