Troy Denning - The Obsidian Oracle

Agis raised his brow, suspecting that both Tithian and Nal were correct. From the Book of the Kemalok Kings , he knew that Sa’ram and Jo’orsh had been the last dwarven knights. But, as the birthplace of the Dragon, the Pristine Tower had become a dangerous and magical place, where living beings were transformed from one kind of creature into something as different as it was hideous. Given that the two dwarves had penetrated to its very core, it seemed likely that they had come out as something else-in this case, giants.

“The race of Jo’orsh and Sa’ram is not important,” Tithian said. “What matters is that they were thieves. We’ve come to reclaim what they stole for the rightful owner.”

Agis frowned. “There’s no need for lies,” he said. “The truth will work better here.”

Tithian fixed a murderous gaze on the noble. “I agree. That’s why I am being honest, this time.” He looked back to Nal. “I’m here on behalf of the true owner of the Dark Lens.”

“How can that be?” scoffed the bawan. “Sa’ram has said that Rajaat fell more than a thousand years ago.”

Tithian gave the giant a confident smile. “If you know the history of Rajaat, then you also know who defeated him, and therefore who has the right to his property.”

“You can’t mean Borys!” Agis gasped. “Even you couldn’t sink to such depths of corruption!”

“It’s not corruption for a king to do what he must to save his city,” Tithian replied.

“You care nothing for Tyr!” the noble accused, noting that Nal was silently watching the exchange with rapt interest. “By giving the lens to the Dragon, you would destroy everything the city stands for-as well as any hope we may have of saving the rest of Athas. What can be worth that?”

“That’s not your concern,” Tithian replied, pointedly turning his head away.

Knowing that he would learn no more by arguing, the noble fell silent and began to puzzle out the king’s motivations for himself. Tithian was not the type to serve as an errand boy for someone else, especially not when the task involved dangers such as they faced at the moment. If the king had come here on the Dragon’s behalf, there had to be a special reward in it for him-and Agis had to figure out what.

Tithian continued his discussion with Nal. “I suggest you give the Oracle to me now, Bawan,” he said. “You’ll save your tribe a terrible fight with the Joorsh.”

Nal held the king out at arm’s length and let Tithian’s legs dangle free. “And what happens when I drop you instead?”

“You and your tribe will die, if not at Mag’r’s hands, then at the Dragon’s,” Tithian replied. Had he been back in the Golden Palace addressing his personal valet, he could not have sounded any more calm and sure of himself.

“You’re bluffing,” Agis said.

The bawan nodded. “Your friend is right,” he said, still holding the king over the pit. “I have nothing to fear from the Dragon. Sa’ram’s magic prevents Borys and his minions from discovering the Oracle’s location.”

“Am I not Borys’s servant? And did I not find the lens?” Tithian asked. “There are ways to bypass the spells hiding it-as my presence here proves.”

Nal remained silent.

“Both Andropinis and Borys know I took a Balican fleet to search for the lens,” the king continued, pressing his argument. “When not one ship out of twenty returns, how long will it take them to guess what happened? How many giant villages will the Dragon destroy before he lands on Lybdos?”

“Your audacity is astounding,” Agis said. “No one else would dare threaten his captor in these circumstances-but I suppose I should expect no less. You’ve always been boldest when the prize was the greatest.”

A cloud came over Tithian’s face. “I warn you, don’t interfere.”

“Interfere with what?” demanded Nal.

“With the arrangements I’ve made to keep the Dragon from savaging Tyr,” supplied Tithian, jumping in with an answer before Agis could respond. “Pay him no attention. Nothing he can say will change what I’ve told you.”

Agis did not correct the statement, for if Nal was the kind of ruler who would allow himself to be intimidated, anything the noble could say would only make matters worse. Still, Agis perceived the lie behind the words, for he had long been suspicious of the purpose behind the king’s preoccupation with sorcery and the Way. Now, it had become apparent that Tithian lacked only the Dark Lens to convert his dream into a nightmare for Tyr.

After considering Tithian’s words for a moment, Nal said, “I wish to know what prize you expect to earn by giving our Oracle to the Dragon.”

“All you need to know is that in the end, you’ll give the lens to me, or the Dragon will take it from the ruins of your citadel,” Tithian countered. “The choice is yours.”

The bawan’s neck feathers ruffled. “I’ve heard the truth in what you’ve said, Tithian,” he said. “And before this is over, I’ll also hear the truth in what you haven’t said.”

It disappointed Agis to see Nal restraining his anger, for it meant Tithian’s threats had affected him. “I’m sure you’ll find what the king hasn’t said more interesting than what he did, Bawan,” said Agis. “But first, it would serve you well to hear me out. I’ve also come to Lybdos seeking use of the Dark Lens, but my purpose is to kill the Dragon, not serve him. Only then can we return Athas to the paradise it once was.”

“Kill the Dragon?” Nal muttered, incredulous.

“My friends have already gathered two of the things we need,” Agis replied. “We have an enchanted sword forged by Rajaat himself, and our sorceress has been imbued with the magic of the Pristine Tower. All we need now is the Dark Lens.”

“And what magic will keep the Castoffs in their cave after you take the Oracle away?” Nal demanded.

“The same magic that keeps them in the caves when it’s the Joorsh’s turn to keep the lens,” Agis countered.

“Mytilene is only a wade of three days away from Lybdos, and even at that distance the magic is weakened. Many Castoffs escape and harm my Saram,” he said. “If I allow you to take the Oracle farther away, my tribe will be destroyed as surely as if the Dragon took it from us.”

“Perhaps we can find another way to keep them at bay,” Agis insisted. “This is for the good of all Athas.”

“What do I care about Athas?” Nal replied. “My concern is the Saram first, and all giants second.”

“Killing Borys benefits giants, too!” Agis objected.

“Not as much as keeping the Oracle where it belongs,” replied the bawan, lowering Agis toward the pit. “No matter how noble you believe your cause, I won’t allow you to steal it from us.”

With that, Nal dropped Agis onto the crystal lid.

The noble’s knees buckled as soon as he hit, and he collapsed onto his side. The surface seemed curiously warm, and Agis could feel it buzzing with the flow of energy. Below his cheek, Castoffs began to press their faces against the translucent surface, and he could hear them crying in the lonely, frightened voices of young children.

Agis closed his eyes. Although he had not been able to use the Way to help Fylo or Kester, he hoped to save himself by buoying his body on its surface, much as Damras had shown him how to float a ship. He felt the familiar tingle of energy rising from deep within himself-then a brilliant flash exploded inside his mind, bringing with it the blaring clamor of a thousand trumpets. The noble’s mind ruptured into unbelievable agony, and, though he could not hear it over the terrible din inside his head, a horrid scream rasped out of his throat. Every muscle in his body erupted into fiery pain, and a wicked, cramping torment filled his stomach. He tried to open his eyes, but found it impossible. From somewhere above him, he heard Bawan Nal laugh.