With each refrain, his words seemed to grow more and more distant, and soon he could not hear them at all.
Rikus started awake to the sound of a soft clack, then felt his crutch slipping from beneath his face. As his cheek dropped onto the sharp edge of a stone, the groggy mul opened his eyes and saw a lirr backing away from him. It was using its long tongue to drag his walking staff away.
Rikus hoisted himself to his feet and stumbled after the beast, pulling his sword from its scabbard. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the gleam of moonlight in a pair of amber eyes and heard stones clatter off to the side. By the time he turned, the second lirr had launched itself at him and was flying through the air with the claws of all four feet fully extended.
The mul raised his sword to defend himself, shaking his head violently in vain effort to clear the fog from his mind. It was to little avail. Even under the threat of death, the reactions of his exhausted body were slow and cumbersome. The lirr struck him full in the body.
Searing pain burned through the mul’s torso as the beast’s foreclaws raked across the unhealed burn wound on his chest. He felt the thing’s rear feet scratching at his stomach, and the gladiator knew that only his Belt of Rank had stopped the monster from disemboweling him.
Instead of fighting to retain his feet, Rikus allowed the lirr’s charge to bowl him over. As he hit the rocks, he tucked his chin and used his good leg to kick off the ground, continuing the roll and throwing the beast off himself. It landed on its back two paces away. Rikus rolled over his sore shoulder, sending a dull ache shooting through his entire body, then brought the Scourge of Rkard down across its exposed throat.
The magical blade sliced through the stony scales. A geyser of dark blood shot high into the air, and the lirr howled in pain, scattering rocks to and fro as it whipped its heavy tail about.
Rikus had little time to gloat over his victory, for he heard stones clattering to both sides as two of the beast’s fellows rushed to finish him off. The mul tried to leap to his feet, but his slow reflexes and battered limbs were still not up to the task. As the creatures closed in, he dropped back to his knees and spun around, swinging his sword in a wide arc.
The Scourge sliced across the first lirr’s leg just below the crooked knee, then cut deep into the second’s jawline. Wailing in pain, the beasts sprayed the mul with dirt and small stones as they stopped their reckless charges. Whipping his blade around, Rikus lunged at his first attacker, sinking the sword deep into the skull. The other one launched itself at its prey. The beast sank its serrated teeth into the swollen flesh of the gladiator’s bruised leg. Rikus screamed, then instantly regretted his lack of restraint as the raw tissues of his parched throat burst in agonizing spasms.
The lirr whipped its head around violently and backed away, trying to drag its prey off his feet. Rikus jerked the Scourge free of the other beast’s skull and brought the blade down across his attacker. The blade cut through the scales and deep into the neck on the first hack, but the saurian’s jaw only clamped tighter. The mul struck again, this time lopping the head cleanly off.
The jaws remained closed. Rikus backed away with the lirr’s head still attached to his leg, stumbling about in a circle to face anymore beasts that might be attacking. The other three predators kept their distance, circling around the battle site, well out of the mul’s reach.
“Come on!” Rikus croaked, again sending a burning wave of pain through his throat. “Let’s finish this!”
Two of the lirrs stood on their hind feet and let out a series of mournful notes. The third, the one that had stolen his walking staff, angrily gnashed the wooden shaft into bits, tossing its head about and flinging the pieces far into the night.
Pathetic, observed Tamar. There are still three of them, and you’re in worse condition than before.
Ignoring the wraith, Rikus stuck the Scourge’s blade into the lirr mouth clinging to his leg, then cut the muscles holding the jaws shut. When the head fell away, blood poured from the wound so freely that he could not see how badly the thing had injured him-and he was not sure he wanted to.
The mul ripped a strip of cloth from his breechcloth. He tied it above the injury to slow his blood loss.
Cover the wound. It will heal faster.
When I get to camp, Rikus said, wincing as he started to limp forward.
You have no idea how far away your camp is!
Sure I do, Rikus said, looking toward the top of the knoll. It’s just over this hill.
It was a statement of desperation, not fact. Nevertheless, Rikus had to believe what he said, for if he let himself think anything else he would not have the strength to continue. He knew that if he did not reach his legion soon, the combination of his fresh wounds, old injuries, thirst, and exhaustion would kill him.
Unfortunately, Rikus’s warriors were not camped beyond the summit of the knoll, nor beyond the summit of the next one, nor even beyond the one after that. The mul struggled onward, always telling himself that the legion was just beyond the next ridge. The three surviving lirrs kept him company, once again giving him wide berth and sporadically bellowing their grim songs. Every now and then, they would close in and rush forward to test his reflexes, then quickly retreat when he demonstrated that he could still swing the Scourge.
As the two moons began to sink behind the Ringing Mountains, Rikus stood in the bottom of yet another rocky valley. He was looking up at the distant summit of yet another knoll, watching the soft morning breeze send tiny sand-devils skittering across the gentle slope. Already the green tendrils of first light were creeping up from the eastern horizon. The mul knew that, by the time he set foot atop the hill, the crimson sun would be shining down on him with all his fury.
Rikus dropped to his knees and laid the Scourge of Rkard across his thighs. The lirrs tightened their circle and bellowed their ghastly songs in wild glee.
Get up! Tamar ordered.
Rikus tried to rise, but found that his weary muscles would not obey. He was no longer conscious of the ache in his savage leg. It hurt so badly from exhaustion that he could not even feel the pain of its lacerations.
You have not recovered the book. I will not allow you to quit!
You can’t do-
Rikus dropped his answer midsentence, for the Scourge’s magic brought a new sound to his ears. He scanned the hillside, searching its shadows for some sign of what had caused the noise. He saw nothing except motionless silhouettes, but the whisper of soft, controlled breathing was coming from behind an elongated boulder a short distance ahead. The mul struggled to his feet and limped forward. The movement drew a long series of mournful notes from the lirrs.
What is it?
Rikus did not bother to answer the wraith’s question. Instead, he gripped the Scourge more tightly and limped onward. The mul had no idea what had made the sound, but he doubted that it was someone from his legion. There was still enough moonlight for sentries to recognize their commander standing in the open, and Rikus had heard no one call his name or even issue a challenge.
It hardly mattered. He had only one hope of survivaclass="underline" perhaps the unseen creature had a supply of water with it. The lirrs seemed to sense Rikus’s change in attitude, closing the distance between them and their prey. They moved so silently that Rikus doubted he would have heard them had it not been for the Scourge of Rkard. He paid them no attention, relying on their natural caution to keep them at bay while he investigated the noise.