“Idiot! That’s what they want!” Sacha hovered close to Rikus’s head and hissed the words into his ear. “Why do you think they’re waiting instead of helping Hamanu? They’re trying to waste your time while Borys deals with Sadira. Then, after you’re tired from fighting the sorcerer-kings, the Dragon will come back and finish what they started.”
Rikus stopped and turned sideways, so he could see both into the ravine and back toward the chasm. He was near the front of the arch, less than a dozen paces from the sorcerer-kings.
“This isn’t working,” growled the Oba. “We’ll have to kill the Usurper!”
She locked her eyes on Tithian, as did King Tec and Nibenay. Andropinis stepped to the front of the arch, positioning his black shield between Rikus and his fellow sorcerer-kings.
Tithian groaned, then his tail slackened and began to come untwined from around the Dark Lens. Blood trickled from his nostrils and ears, and his eyes bulged from their sockets. His jaw began to quiver, and Rikus knew that even with the Dark Lens, the king of Tyr was no match for the sorcerer-kings.
Shifting the Scourge away from his throwing hand, Rikus drew the dagger Sacha had given him and hurled it at Hamanu. The blade sailed straight for the sorcerer-king’s back, and it looked like it would be a clean kill. Behind the mul, Andropinis spoke the syllable of a mystic incantation.
Rikus spun and leaped, slashing his sword at the sorcerer-king’s rising hand. Reacting impossibly fast, Andropinis brought his shield up to intercept the blow. The Scourge hit without so much as a thud and stopped cold.
Andropinis’s spell misfired, and a silent burst of silver light flashed between the sorcerer-king and Rikus. The mul felt a tremendous force pushing on his chest, not so much an impact as overwhelming pressure, and his feet left the ground. He sailed a dozen paces through the air before he crashed down, rolling head over heels and coming to a rest at Hamanu’s side.
To Rikus’s amazement, the sorcerer-king still stood, even with the dagger planted deep in his back. His teeth were clenched in pain, and sweat soaked his entire body, but the injury had not forced him to break off the combat with the Tyrian king. In contrast, Tithian looked ready to collapse, with tears of blood running from his bulging eyes and his serpentine tail barely contacting with the Dark Lens.
Rikus glanced toward the front of the arch and saw that Andropinis’s misfired spell had hurled him into the Oba. They were both picking themselves off the ground. The other two sorcerer-kings were still helping Hamanu, their gazes locked on Tithian’s face.
Leaving the Scourge on the ground, Rikus leaped up and reached for the dagger in Hamanu’s back. Without looking away from Tithian, the sorcerer-king lashed out. The attack was as fast as a viper strike, but at least this time Rikus saw it coming. He twisted sideways, trying to slip past the blow, and felt a hard fist skip along his jaw. Normally, the mul would hardly have noticed a glancing blow, but Hamanu’s strike snapped his head around.
Rikus spun with the impact, turning around in a complete circle. He stopped directly behind his foe and grabbed the dagger, pushing it in to the hilt. When the sorcerer-king still did not fall, he twisted the blade and forced it upwards, driving toward the heart. Hamanu screamed and stumbled back, as if Tithian were driving him away.
A kes’trekel came streaking out of the Dark Lens, its curled talons and hooked beak poised to strike. The giant raptor seemed as real as any Rikus had ever seen-which surprised him. The mul was not a complete stranger to the Way, and he knew that battles between mindbenders were fought inside their minds.
When the bird hit, any doubts about its reality vanished. The kes’trekel’s talons sank deep into Hamanu’s shoulders, bowling him over. The mul released his hold on the dagger, then watched the great bird carry the sorcerer-king’s screaming form toward the front of the arch.
As he realized what he was seeing, Rikus did not know whether to rejoice or be sick. With the Dark Lens, Tithian could create physical versions of his mental constructs. While that ability was proving useful now, the mul knew that when the time came to kill the king, it would be every bit as dangerous to him and his friends as it was to the sorcerer-kings.
Rikus rolled across the ground and grabbed the Scourge, then returned to his feet in time to see the kes’trekel hurl itself into the midst of the sorcerer-kings. The mul started forward, knowing he did not have long to attack before his enemies recovered.
“No, Rikus, wait!” Sacha ordered. Then, to Tithian, the head said, “Give me a light!”
As the king uttered an incantation, Rikus watched the sorcerer-kings counterattack the kes’trekel. They made short work of the raptor, reducing it to a cloud of feathers in an instant.
A bright white light flared behind the mul, causing him to cast a dark shadow. A pair of burning blue eyes and a gashlike mouth appeared in the silhouette’s head. The limbs began to thicken, and the figure peeled itself off the ground.
Sacha had summoned a shadow giant.
At the other end of the arch, Andropinis cursed. He and the other sorcerer-kings started forward, yelling incantations and gesturing madly. The shadow giant turned and spewed a black mist in their direction. The passage filled with a thick, impenetrable fog. The vapor quickly rolled back to engulf the mul and his companions in its bone-chilling murk.
“How am I supposed to f-fight in this?” Rikus demanded. His teeth were already chattering, and his flesh was growing numb from the cold.
“You won’t have to,” Sacha answered. “The sorcerer-kings know better than to enter the Black.”
Rikus saw a pair of blue eyes drifting toward him, then he felt an icy hand close over his wrist.
The Dragon turned his remaining hand toward the ground. Sadira saw the telltale shimmer of magic rising into the palm. With both hands injured, she could not imagine he intended to cast a spell, any more than she could imagine where the energy was coming from. The obsidian globes in his stomach were shattered, so the sorceress knew he could not be drawing the power from any animals that might be lurking in this wasteland. That meant Borys was drawing the energy from foliage. Sadira did not see so much as a blade of grass anywhere on the desolate plain, but she knew there had to be plants somewhere. She turned her own palm toward the ground and began to draw. Even when the sun was down, she was a powerful sorceress and could rely on the normal energy sources to cast her spells.
It took a moment, then she felt the familiar tingle of magic rising through her arm. The energy seemed to be coming from the cliffs at the edge of the plain. She would have to be careful not to draw too much power too rapidly, for fear of robbing all the life force from the unseen plants and destroying them.
Before the sorceress’s eyes, the gash on Borys’s forearm slowly began to seal itself.
“We’ll never kill Borys if he can heal himself!” Rkard exclaimed. The boy stood at her side, staring in horror at the Dragon’s closing wounds.
“We’ll find a way,” Sadira replied, infusing her voice with more confidence than she felt.
The sorceress closed her hand to the flow of energy and pulled a small piece of brown tuber from her pocket. Keeping one eye on the Dragon, the sorceress uttered an incantation over the root, then held it out to Rkard.
“Eat this. It’ll make you so fast, Borys won’t catch you.” As Sadira spoke, she saw the fingers on Borys’s useless hand begin to wiggle.
The boy refused to take the root. “You should eat it,” he said. “I tried to tell you before-I’m not supposed to kill the Dragon.”
Sadira frowned. “What are you saying? Of course you are.”
Rkard shook his head. “Jo’orsh told Borys that I decided to kill the Dragon,” the boy explained. “But that’s wrong. When he and Sa’ram came to Agis’s house, I asked them why they were giving me the Belt of Rank and King Rkard’s crown. They said it was because I was going to kill the Dragon-so I thought-”