Troy Denning - The Obsidian Oracle

The rodent construct rushed Agis’s mekillot, but two giants seized its tail as it passed, bringing the beast to an instant halt. It struggled to continue forward, its curled claws clattering on the stony ground.

“Fylo not make good tembo,” scoffed one of the giants, dragging the rodent backward. “His face too ugly!”

Taking advantage of the distraction, Agis moved forward, away from the cliff edge. The four giants who were not busy with Fylo charged. The noble stopped his harbinger, then waited until they reached him before lashing out. He snagged one in his bill-shaped mouth and, with a flick of the lizard’s head, snapped the victim’s back.

His attack did not even slow the other giants. The remaining three slammed into the mekillot’s flank and shoved it toward the cliff edge, angrily shouting, “Go ‘way, stupid lizard!”

The noble tried to counter, dropping the crippled giant in his construct’s mouth and planting the beast’s huge legs firmly on the rocky ground. He pushed back with all his unimaginable strength, but the effort was to no avail. Slowly, inexorably, the giants drove the behemoth toward the precipice.

On the other side of the rocky summit, Fylo was faring no better. The two giants that had grasped his tail were dragging him away, laughing cruelly and saying, “Fylo too stupid to be tembo-too weak!”

As his foes pushed him to within a few yards of the cliff edge, Agis visualized the top of the crag turning to a dustsink, leaving only a narrow rim of rock around the outer edge. A terrific swell of energy coursed through his body, then the stony ground of the summit dissolved into a powdery muck. The memory giants cried out in surprise, as did Fylo, and they all tried to leap for the solid ground ringing the pit. The agitation only caused the surface to become even less firm, and they sank to their waists almost immediately.

Although the mekillot’s stubby legs disappeared into the muck as quickly as those of the giants, Agis was prepared for the surprise and began to change form instantly. His construct’s shell, already half submerged, was replaced by oily black scales. The bulk faded from his torso, until his body became slender and ribbonlike, with a wedge-shaped head at one end and a ridge of spiked fins running along the serpentine spine.

As Fylo and the giants continued to sink, Agis’s eel slithered across the dust to the rocky rim, coiling up on the solid ground just in time to see the heads of his foes vanishing into the mire. The noble allowed himself a deep sigh, confident that he had won the battle. His efforts had tired him terribly, but he still had enough strength to take control of the island.

Outside the giant’s mind, a horrible groan rumbled through the canyon, then Fylo’s grip loosened, and Agis nearly slipped from his captor’s grasp. The noble saved himself from a long fall only by throwing his arms over the giant’s trembling finger.

“Release me,” Agis said, looking into a bloodshot eye. “Now that I’ve captured one memory, it’s only a matter of time before I control your whole mind. All I have to do is shape the island into your image, and-”

“No,” Fylo hissed, his lips quivering with fatigue.

“You can’t win,” the noble said. “Losing a harbinger isn’t so different from losing a limb-save that it’s spiritual energy instead of blood that gushes from the wound. You can’t fight me any longer.”

“Fylo not done!” the giant roared.

Inside Fylo’s head, the dustsink began to chum and froth. Agis slipped his eel over to the edge of the pond. Never before had he seen a foe create a new mental guardian after the first had been destroyed, but he feared Fylo was doing exactly that.

The noble summoned the energy to meet the attack, but it flowed slowly from his spiritual nexus, for the battle so far had been a tiring one. Before he was ready to change the pool back to stone, a pair of huge claws shot from the dust and locked onto his eel. Agis tried to writhe free, but the more he struggled, the more deeply the pincers’ barbs impaled him. Finally, he stopped squirming and allowed himself to be lifted off the ground.

As Fylo’s new construct crawled from the dustsink, Agis saw that it faintly resembled a mammoth dunecrab. Instead of four eyestalks, however, only Fylo’s head protruded from the top of its biscuit-shaped shell.

“Agis lose,” proclaimed the crab, his pincers tightening on the noble’s eel.

“Then we both lose!”

Agis whipped his head around and clasped his mouth on his captor’s neck. As the barbed pincers sliced through his body, his eel’s teeth tore into the throat of Fylo’s construct. His mouth filled with the taste of blood, then his body exploded with pain. The sound of his own screaming filled his ears, and everything went white.

It took Agis several moments to realize that he had not died. Even then, he felt disoriented and sick, unsure of whether he had returned to consciousness inside Fylo’s mind or outside it. His entire body ached with a fierce, stinging pain, and his stomach ached with a queasy emptiness, as if part of it had been removed.

Slowly, as Agis regained his senses, he realized that he was lying in Fylo’s open palm. The nobleman rose to his knees, intending to run for his kank-until he realized that the beast was far below. The giant’s hand rested upon his mountainous knee, high above the ground. Agis turned toward Fylo’s face and found the giant’s haggard eyes watching him.

“Fylo hurt,” the giant commented.

“Agis too,” the noble admitted. “And we’re going to keep hurting. It’ll take days to recover from our losses.”

Fylo groaned at the unwelcome news. “Then why Agis attack?” he asked.

“Because I must catch your friend Tithian.”

“Not Tith-”

Agis raised his hand to stop the giant. “There’s no use pretending,” he said. “You know I’m Agis of Asticles, and I know who hired you to kill me.”

The giant considered this point for a moment, then lifted Agis closer to his face. “Okay. But Tithian not say kill Agis,” he said. “Only stop.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” Agis scoffed, using the giant’s thumb to steady himself as he rose unsteadily to his feet. “The king’s not the type to balk at murder.”

“Fylo tell truth,” said the giant. “Tithian say, ‘Stop friend Agis, but don’t hurt. Protect.’ ”

“Protect me from what?” Agis asked.

Fylo’s demeanor suggested that he was being honest about his instructions, which only puzzled the noble. When Agis had become involved in the rebellion against Tyr’s previous ruler, Tithian had used his influence to protect his old friend. But that had been many years ago, before the noble had assumed leadership of the Council of Advisors and become the king’s most effective political enemy.

After considering Agis’s question for a moment, the giant shrugged. “Fylo forget why Tithian want you protected.”

“Fylo never knew, because Tithian didn’t say,” Agis said. “He’s not protecting me. He’s trying to keep me from catching him.”

“Only ’cause Tithian go dangerous place,” Fylo insisted.

Agis raised his brow at this comment. “What dangerous place?”

“Balic,” answered the giant. “Now you stay with Fylo til he come back?”

“Tithian isn’t coming back,” said Agis.

“Tithian promise,” Fylo growled. The giant closed his fingers and grasped his captive tightly. “And Fylo promise to keep Agis here.”

“It’s right to want to keep your promise, but don’t think Tithian will do the same,” said Agis. “Whatever he offered you-”

“Fylo not for sale!” the giant boomed, squeezing Agis so hard that the air rushed from his lungs. “Tithian friend!”