Troy Denning - The Crimson Legion

“You said you wanted him!” the wraith’s voice cried, echoing down from the clouds of the black sky. “Come and get him.”

“Where are you?” the mul yelled.

The light cast by his sword suddenly narrowed to an intense beam that shone through the arch. Rikus ran toward the blue landmark. Already, he was beginning to feel tired, and he had done nothing except project himself into the combat.

A half-dozen glass sheets slipped from their places and shot toward him, their sharp edges turned horizontally so as to slice him into six different pieces from the knees to the neck. Rikus barely had time to bring his sword up, then slashed down through the plates as they approached him. They shattered into a hundred pieces, covering him with dozens of painful cuts as they struck. For many moments, the bloodied shards hung in the air, then fell upward toward the sky.

It was then that Rikus realized it took no effort at all to hold his sword with the blade pointing upward. He was standing upside down, no matter that the terrain suggested otherwise.

The mul threw his head toward the ground and his feet toward the ceiling. The icy world dropped out from beneath him, and he fell an immense, immeasurable distance. The world went black, then white again. Finally, he landed in the yellow bubbling ooze, his legs buried clear to his knees. There before him, where the blue arch had been a moment ago, was the Serpent of Lubar. The fangs of one of its massive mouths were sunk deeply into Tamar’s scaly carpace, and the second head was darting to and fro in search of an opening.

Pulling his feet free of the muck, Rikus waded toward the battle as fast as he could. Tamar tore at the serpent with her mandibles, opening long rips that oozed foul black goo. The snake coiled its body around her and squeezed. The wraith’s red scales snapped and cracked and splintered.

When he reached the battle, the mul raised his sword and brought it down on Maetan’s sinuous body. The magical blade sliced through the beast’s scales, sinking deep into its stringy flesh. The snake’s second head hissed and turned to face the mul, then shot toward him with its venomous fangs exposed. Rikus pulled the Scourge free and swung again.

The head stopped just short of the blade’s arc. The mul brought his weapon around for a thrust, but before he could strike the snake hissed at him. A blast of tepid air washed over Rikus, filled his nostrils with the sour odor of bile.

The serpent and the wraith disappeared, then Rikus found himself in the great hall of the mansion, expelled from the battle raging inside his own head. Before him stood Maetan’s motionless body, his gaze locked on the glowing ruby in the mul’s chest.

Sensing his opportunity to finish the battle, the mul lifted his sword and swung it at the mindbender. Maetan disappeared before his eyes. A sharp pain shot through the mul’s ankle as the invisible Urikite kicked him, then he felt his leg being swept from beneath him. Rikus tried to shift his weight to the other foot, but Maetan pushed him over before he could avoid the fall.

The mul crashed to the ash-smeared floor. As his battered body erupted in agony, the Scourge of Rkard slipped from his grasp and went skittering across the floor.

Cursing himself for a softling, Rikus scrambled after the sword. As he moved, the floor changed to a plain of boiling yellow mud, and he realized that he had been drawn back into the battle in his mind. The Scourge’s hilt disappeared into the muck, and the blade followed an instant later.

“Fool.”

Rikus looked over his shoulder and saw the Serpent of Lubar slithering after him. The viper carried its head off the ground, a forked tongue flickering from its mouth. It was using the head at the far end of its body to drag Tamar along, though she had now taken the form of a huge red bird with a needlelike beak.

Rikus looked away and started sweeping his hands through the mud, searching for the Scourge. An instant later, four sharp fangs punctured his abdomen. He felt the sting of venom running into his body as the serpent lifted him from the mud.

Realizing that he had no chance of defeating Maetan until he recovered his sword, the mul decided to try something desperate. Once, while being transported from Urik to Tyr by the slave merchant that bought him from Lord Lubar, Rikus had killed a guard during an ill-fated escape attempt. As punishment, the merchant had sent him into the mud-flats surrounding an oasis of rancid water, telling him the death would be forgiven if he could reach the far side.

Before Rikus had traveled fifty yards, a mouthful of sharp, barbed teeth had grabbed his leg and dragged him beneath the surface. The mul dived in after the beast and, blinded and choked by mud, wrestled his attacker until he snapped its bullish neck. When he had pulled it from the muck, he found himself holding a ten-foot salamander with a ring of featherlike scales around its neck and a half-dozen finlike feet along the course of its body.

Hoping that the same senses that had allowed the creature to find him in the mudflat would help him find his sword, Rikus summoned his stamina for a last stab at survival. He imagined himself as that salamander. The energy rushed up from deep inside himself, then became a long, wriggling reptile.

He slipped from Maetan’s grasp, leaving a mouthful of scales behind, and dropped into the mud below. A pair of membranes closed over his eyes, and he found himself in a world of slime, where there was no such thing as up or down, only forward and backward. As Rikus used his finlike feet to push and pull himself through the thick mud, Maetan’s poison continued to burn through his body, clouding his mind and weakening his muscles with every passing moment. Behind him, the serpent plunged his head into the mud, blindly snapping its jaws in an effort to recapture him.

Rikus continued to swim, emitting a continuous series of high squeals. They bounced back to the feathery scales around his head, constructing something like a picture of the terrain for his mind. It took him only a moment of whipping his head back and forth before he located his lost sword, and he scrambled for it as fast as his stubby legs would pull him.

When Rikus reached the Scourge, he placed a fin on its hilt, then cleared the image of the salamander from his mind. Instantly he changed back to his own form-and found himself blind and choking as he tried to breath mud.

Ignoring the panic welling in his breast, he grabbed the sword and rose from the muck.

Behind him, the Serpent of Lubar hissed, and he knew it was striking. Rikus spun around, lashing out with his weapon. The blade slipped between the snake’s fangs and passed cleanly through the back of the beast’s mouth.

Lord Maetan of Family Lubar screamed.

Rikus found himself standing back in the mansion chamber just as Maetan’s headless body collapsed at his feet.

The mul sank to his knees and closed his eyes, bracing himself on his sword. The serpent’s venom still burned through his body, but he felt it now as profound exhaustion.

It is done , Tamar said. Now, you must go to Urik and find the book. I must know Borys’s fate!

“I will recover the book,” Rikus said. “But not for you.”

The mul shook his head to clear it, but found his vision blurring. When he looked up, he saw that Neeva and K’kriq had disobeyed his orders and were rushing into the room. Behind them came Gaanon, Caelum, Jaseela, and Styan.

Rikus tried to stand, but collapsed back to his knees, too sick from the serpent’s poison and too fatigued from battle to stand.

Neeva swept the mul off his feet. “We’d better get you back to bed,” she said, starting for the back of the mansion.

“And bring Caelum-a snake bit me,” the mul said. He clutched at her arm. “And if he lets me die-”