“It’s not Sult’s fault,” Neeva said. “Every yalmus has the right-even the responsibility-to act on his own initiative.”
“Sult is dividing the enemy’s forces, just as Neeva taught him,” added Caelum.
The mul cursed the dwarf’s initiative and tried to think of a way to save the company. During the war with Urik, too many brave warriors had died needlessly for him to want to see the same thing happen to the Granite Company.
Before anything came to mind, Patch and Fosk surprised the mul by stopping their advances. The giants stood thirty of Rikus’s paces away-only five or six of their own-and glared down at the three ranks of dwarven warriors.
Rikus drew his sword and stepped forward. The blade remained gray with the stain of the wraith attack, and the weapon’s magic did not seem quite as powerful as before. Although the Scourge brought the dying screams of Sult Ltak’s dwarves to his ears more clearly, he still could not understand their words-as he would normally have been able to do.
“Where is our Oracle?” demanded Patch.
“If you want to talk, call off your warrior’s attack,” Rikus countered, pointing toward the gorge.
Patch peered over his shoulder then looked back down at Rikus with his one uncovered eye. He smiled, revealing a cruel set of filed yellow teeth. “Not until you answer.”
Rikus sighed, then said, “We don’t have it here.”
“We knew that when your ugly little dwarves started shooting needles instead of giving it to us,” sneered Fosk, standing a step behind his leader. “Where have you hidden it?”
“If you make us call the rest of the tribe to break into Tyr, we’ll raze the city,” warned Patch. “We won’t leave nothing standing.”
“There are many powerful wizards in Tyr-including the one who imprisoned your war party this morning,” Rikus bluffed. “Besides, we only need to borrow the Lens. We’ll give it back as soon as we kill the Dragon.”
Patch’s single eye went as round as the sun, and Fosk could not stop himself from stepping forward.
“No!” boomed the giant leader. “Especially not for that!”
Rikus frowned. “The Dragon is everyone’s enemy,” the mul said. “He may not take giants to fill his levy, but it’s his magic-and that of his followers, the sorcerer-kings-that turned Athas into a wasteland.”
“Better to live in a wasteland than to die in a paradise,” countered Fosk.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rikus asked.
Patch and Fosk looked at each other with blank expressions. Then, as if it would explain everything, the leader said, “That’s what Jo’orsh and Sa’ram say.”
“What do you know of Jo’orsh and Sa’ram?” demanded Caelum, stepping to Rikus’s side.
“They gave us the Oracle,” Patch informed him. “They said if we lose it, almost everyone on Athas could die.”
“Then they must have changed their minds,” Neeva said, joining the pair. “Because they’re the ones who told us that it was time to kill the Dragon.”
Fosk’s cavernous mouth dropped open, and Patch raised the brow of his uncovered eye in disbelief. “They’re here?” asked Fosk.
“They visited us ten days ago,” Rikus said. He carefully avoided any mention of Rkard, deciding that he would leave it to Neeva to reveal or keep secret what the banshees had said about the boy’s destiny. “They said nothing about returning the Lens to the giants.”
Patch scowled doubtfully. “If you really saw them, what’d they look like?”
“They were the size of giants-not quite as big as you, but close,” Neeva replied. “They were nothing but bone, all twisted up. One had a skull, and the other didn’t. Neither one had any skin, but both had orange eyes and long gray beards.”
Patch ran a hand through his snarled hair braids. “And they didn’t take our Oracle back?” he gasped. “Where are they?”
Neeva started to answer, but Rikus raised a hand to keep her from speaking. “First, stop your warrior from smashing any more of our friends.”
Patch motioned to Fosk, who turned and bellowed, “Galt, leave them guys alone for a minute-but don’t let ’em out ’til Patch says.”
Galt reluctantly stepped back. He grabbed a huge boulder and dropped it into place at the mouth of the canyon. Rikus heard the sound of crumpling armor, then dozens of angry dwarves screaming for the giant to come back and fight.
“Right now, we don’t know where Jo’orsh and Sa’ram are,” Rikus said. “We haven’t seen them since they said it was time to kill the Dragon. But I suspect they’ve gone to protect the Lens until we get there.”
“Get where?” Patch demanded. “Our Oracle isn’t in Tyr?”
Rikus smiled, proud of himself for salvaging their original plan. Even with Sadira unconscious, it seemed he would be able to lure the giants away from Tyr-perhaps even convince them to abandon their demand for the Lens altogether.
“No, Agis didn’t bring the Dark Lens back to Tyr,” Rikus said. “He sent word for us to meet him someplace else.”
Fosk scowled, and Patch narrowed his eye. “Agis told you to meet him?”
“Yes,” Rikus replied. “We’ll leave as soon-”
“Liar!” Fosk thundered. He stooped down and scooped up an entire pile of waste rock.
Caelum touched his palm to the crimson sun on his forehead and pointed his other hand at the giant. Rays of scarlet light shot from between the dwarf’s fingers, illuminating the valley in eerie, flickering hues as they streaked over and enveloped the titan’s hand.
When Fosk whipped his arm forward, no stones flew from his hand. Pink balls of sticky, bubbling gel arced off the ends of his fingers, igniting small circles of flame wherever they spattered. The drops that fell on the ground flared briefly and faded, but the burning sludge stayed in Fosk’s hand. The giant screamed in pain and slapped the hand at his thigh, kindling a fire even larger than the one he was attempting to put out. Finally, he simply dropped to the ground and began to roll, sending clouds of dust high into the sky.
“Nicely done, husband,” said Neeva.
Rikus grunted his agreement. Keeping a watchful eye on Patch, who was studying the fallen giant with a wary scowl, the mul asked, “How many other spells do you have like that?”
“That was my most effective. That’s why I saved it,” Caelum replied. “It may not kill him, but it should keep him from bothering us, for now.”
“Perhaps Magnus will have some wind-magic-”
“I doubt he’ll be coming,” Rikus interrupted. “I assigned him to slow the giants back at the farm. He must have gotten trapped on the other side, or he’d be here by now.”
As the mul spoke, Patch looked back toward the gorge. “Kill the dwarves, Galt!” he yelled. “All of ’em!”
Neeva spun around, commanding, “Into the tunnel. Now!”
As the dwarves obeyed, the mul shook his head in bewilderment. “Stop it, Patch!” he yelled, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “I thought you understood. Jo’orsh and Sa’ram don’t want the Lens back.”
“Be quiet, little liar!” Patch countered. He picked up a huge boulder and stepped toward the mul. “Agis died in the Bay of Woe.”
“You’re the one who’s lying!” Rikus yelled. “Agis is alive. He just sent us a message!”
“Tithian stole our Oracle,” Patch insisted. “And you’re trying to hide him.”
The titan hurled the stone with both hands. It arced toward Rikus. He had time to see that it was easily large enough to flatten both him and his companions. The mul brought the Scourge up and slashed at the rock with all his strength.
Rikus did not feel the enchanted blade biting into the boulder, as he had expected. His arm just went numb. A loud, clanging knell punched at his eardrums, and a black flash erupted from where his sword had met the rock. The dirt vanished from beneath his feet, and he felt himself being slammed into the ground by a tremendous blast. Everything fell quiet, and he expected to feel the crushing weight of the boulder smashing down on his body.