The Cerulean Storm

FOURTEEN THE GATE OF DOOM

The ravine was a scar upon the blackened face of the plain, an ugly slash choked with jagged boulders and thick with brown vapor. Its sheer walls were capped with long mounds of loose stone, as if some immense plow had scratched a furrow from a field of solid basalt. The floor was littered with pulsing heaps of yellow stones, while tiny fissures in the cliff faces spat beads of steaming white sludge across the canyon. There was not a plant, living or dead, in the whole valley.

The ravine spilled into a vast, fiery abyss filled with molten rock. At this brink loomed a massive arch of black granite, engraved with squirming yellow runes and twice as tall as the cliffs flanking it. In the shadows beneath the arch stood the Dragon, eclipsed by the edifice and silhouetted against the orange glow rising from the chasm at his back. The claws of one hand were closed around a small, limp figure.

Though Sadira could not see it clearly from this distance, she assumed the figure to be Rkard. The sorceress had been watching for quite some time and still had not seen the boy move.

Sadira felt a hand grasp her shoulder. “It’s time,” Neeva whispered. “Caelum just received Tithian’s thought-message. They’re in position.”

Sadira looked at the ravine’s south wall. The cliff was only about half the height of the great arch itself, but easily tall enough so that Rikus and Tithian would be able to attack the Dragon from above. She saw no sign of the mul or the king, of course, for they would not show themselves until the battle began. Until then, they would remain hidden behind the mound of loose stones that capped the wall.

According to the plan, Neeva and Caelum would make the first move. Protected by Sadira’s magic, they would go straight down the ravine. They would try to hold the Dragon’s attention on themselves, so that the sorceress would have a better chance of using her powers to sneak up on him.

Sadira’s task was to deprive the Dragon of his most dangerous magic. Like the sorcerer-kings, Borys could draw the life force from men and animals. Also like the sorcerer-kings, he required the aid of obsidian globes to convert it into magical energy. But the Dragon’s mighty spells required more of the dark orbs than his hands could hold, so he swallowed his globes and carried them inside his body. If Sadira could get close enough, she could shatter the obsidian in Borys’s stomach, thus robbing him of his mightiest weapon.

The loss of the globes would probably also stun Borys, so Sadira would move quickly to rescue Rkard. Then, if necessary, she would return and lure the Dragon from beneath his arch by taunting him, pretending to suffer an injury, or-as a last resort-leaving herself vulnerable to a physical attack. When Borys stepped out of his cover, Rikus and Tithian would attack from above. Hopefully, the ambush would prove fatal. If it did not, the assault would lapse into an unpredictable melee, and their strategy would become, of necessity, a simple one: attack as fast and as hard as possible.

“Sadira?” asked Neeva. “Is something wrong?”

The sorceress shook her head, then followed her friend back behind the ridge they were using as a hiding place. She was sad to see that Neeva did not go to Caelum’s side. Sadira had hoped that her friend would make amends with her husband before the fighting started.

The sorceress went to Neeva’s side and took the warrior’s axe. “Don’t you think it’s time to forgive your husband?” she whispered. “This will be a hard-fought battle.”

“I didn’t see you kiss Rikus before sending him off,” countered the warrior, also whispering.

“That’s different. Caelum did all he could to protect your son,” Sadira said. “Rikus was glad to see Agis gone.”

“That’s not true,” Neeva replied.

“He thought he’d have me to himself. I saw it in his eyes,” Sadira insisted. “He’s always been jealous of Agis.”

“Rikus?” Neeva scoffed, shaking her head. She lowered her voice even further. “Neither of you are ones to be jealous. That’s why you have him and I don’t.”

“As I recall, you ended that romance-for Caelum.” Sadira glanced over her friend’s shoulder at the dwarf. He was deep in concentration, one hand pressed to his sun-mark. “And I think you’ll find you still love him, if you ask yourself how you would have stopped Borys.”

Neeva bit her lip and looked away. “Maybe, after this is over,” she said. “But all I can think of now is getting Rkard back. Fix my axe so we can get on with it.”

Sadira sighed. She rubbed her ebony fingers over the weapon’s steel head, speaking several incantations in a row. A dark stain spread outward from beneath her fingertips, coating the double-edged weapon with an ebony sheen as smooth and lustrous as a mirror. Tiny whirlpools of dusky light poured into one blade, while sable starbursts sparkled from the other. Even the handle turned as black as pitch.

“Remember, use the flat of the blade to deflect anything flying at you.” Sadira handed the weapon back to Neeva. “When Borys tries to use his magic, point the handle at him. And above all, if you get close enough to hit him, leave the blade buried in his flesh as long as possible-”

“Unless you’ve changed any of the enchantments, there’s no need to go over it again,” interrupted Neeva. She cast a nervous glance skyward. “Night could come at any moment.”

Sadira looked up and nodded. Although it had been less than three days since they had entered the valley, they had learned to be wary of their sense of time. The boiling ash storm overhead cast the same red pall over this strange land all day long, rendering it impossible to judge the hour by looking at the sky. They could not even create a sundial. The thick clouds hid the sun and prevented even a faint shadow from showing on the ground.

To make matters worse, when night fell, it would do so with no period of twilight or hint of dusk. The sky would simply change from a bright crimson to a dim scarlet, and Sadira’s skin would fade from ebony to its normal hue of ivory. And, as Neeva had pointed out, that could happen soon. Morning, such as it was, had arrived much earlier that day, long before Caelum’s tracking spell had led them to the Dragon.

Unfortunately, holding their assault until morning was out of the question, for Borys knew their strengths and limitations too well. If they let night fall, he would certainly attack them.

Sadira stepped aside, letting Neeva and Caelum pass. “I’m fairly certain that arch is a mystic gate, though I’ve no idea where it leads,” she said. “So keep a watchful eye. If Borys activates it, our best chance of following him-and Rkard-will be to duplicate what he does exactly.”

“What should we watch for?” Neeva asked.

Sadira shook her head. “I wish I knew. A command, or touching a hidden panel, perhaps even something as simple as stepping out the other end,” she said. “I doubt that he’ll try to use it until he’s injured. But just in case, I’ll try for your son as quickly as I can.”

“Let us hope that Rkard still lives,” said Caelum. “And that the hour is not too close to dark.”

The dwarf led his wife into the ravine.

As the pair disappeared, Sadira slipped a nugget of dried nyssa resin into her mouth and chewed. She plucked a lash from her eyelid and, when the gum had grown soft, wrapped it inside. Pinching the resulting wad between her fingers, she whispered an incantation. Her body slowly faded from black to gray, then grew translucent and finally became completely invisible.

The clatter of shifting stones echoed up from the gorge, and Sadira knew Neeva and Caelum had begun their descent. She reached into her pocket to prepare her next spell.

“Did you hear that?” Rikus whispered. “It sounded like clattering stones.”

The mul lay facedown on the brink of a small cliff. To one side, the precipice dropped about thirty feet to a plain of broken basalt. To the other side, a mound of loose stones rose fifty paces to a rounded crest that overlooked the Dragon’s waiting place. Above the summit of the ridge, Rikus could see the top of the arch, with its snaking yellow runes, silhouetted against the crimson sky. Of course, he could not see over the hill to tell what was happening in the ravine.

“I assume Neeva and Caelum are descending.” said Sacha. He was floating beyond the cliff edge, well out of the mul’s reach. “Be ready.”

“I am,” Rikus growled. He drew his sword and peered over the cliff edge at Tithian.

Having transformed himself into something resembling a giant scorpion, the king was using the claws of his six legs to climb the cliff. The Dark Lens was pressed against his back, held securely in place by his curled tail. In place of the arachnid’s claws, he had created a pair of arms as long and powerful as those of a half-giant. Only the head remained Tithian’s, looking at once demented and pitiful, with his brown eyes glaring from deeply sunken sockets, his hawkish nose slimmed down to a crooked rib of cartilage, and wild shocks of gray hair sticking out at all angles.

“Remember, I’ll be watching you,” Rikus warned.

The king smirked up at the mul. “We’re on the same side in this fight,” he said. “It’s time you accepted that.”

Rikus looked back up the hill. “I’ve been stung by one scorpion already,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

Neeva sprang from one teetering boulder to another, her eyes watering and her throat burning from the caustic fumes of the ravine. Most of the brown vapors in the immediate area were swirling around her axe’s head, sinking into the enchanted blade and disappearing from sight. The few wisps that escaped were enough to make her glad for Sadira’s protection.

They had already traveled most of the way down the gorge. The great arch stood less than fifty paces away, at least five times as tall as a giant. A Balican schooner could have sailed through the gap between its pillars. Even the yellow runes on its face, now writhing madly, were the size of faro trees.

The Dragon continued to stand in the shadows beneath the arch, his head cocked as he watched them approach. The closer they came, the harder it became to see him clearly. The glow rising from the abyss at his back grew brighter with each step, until the glare blurred the edges of his scaly body.

Neeva had expected Borys to attack by now, but it did not disturb her that he had not. The closer he let them approach, the longer Sadira would have to position herself.

The warrior glanced at her axe head. They were all keenly aware that the Dragon ahead could be a double, like the one they had faced in Samarah. One of the enchantments Sadira had cast on the weapon was to make the blade reveal the true appearance of anything reflected in its dark sheen. The image Neeva saw was that of Borys.

“Watch yourself!” Caelum cried. “He may be attacking!”

The dwarf pointed at the top of the great arch. One of the sigils was glowing white and whirling madly. An instant later, it vanished in a bright flash.

Neeva pressed herself close to her husband’s side, holding the axe between them and the arch. Before she could ask what he expected to occur, a sheet of steaming white sludge sizzled from a long fissure in the canyon wall. She thought they would be swamped, but the sheet split apart as it neared them. A huge glob struck Neeva’s axe and swirled into the blade in a great whirlpool. The rest of the muck fell around them, blanketing the rocks on the ground. A harsh hissing and popping sounded from beneath the white shroud, as it quickly dissolved into brown vapor and rose up around them in a caustic cloud.

Neeva swung her axe through the choking vapors, clearing them away with a single pass of the blade. Both she and Caelum looked back to the arch immediately. To their relief, no more of the runes disappeared.

They advanced farther down the gorge, until they were close enough to see that the yellow runes in the arch’s face consisted of flowing ribbons of molten stone. The bright glow behind the Dragon sent blazing daggers of pain shooting through Neeva’s eyes, and blasts of fiery wind gusted up from the depths of the abyss to sear her flesh. Determined not to show her weakness, Neeva continued to advance without shielding her eyes or looking away.

A loud, spiteful voice came from beneath the arch. “Stop there, and we will speak.”

The warrior and her husband obeyed, keeping a watchful eye on the yellow runes above. “What do we have to talk about?” Neeva asked.

Borys stepped to the front edge of the arch, his body now blocking most of the glare. He lowered his serpentine neck and fixed his scorching gaze on the two intruders. The spiked crest on his head stood completely upright, the barbed tips of its spines gleaming with orange light. A scorching light shone in his beady eyes, and wisps of yellow smoke fumed from his dark nostrils. The Dragon’s beaklike mouth gaped open. Neeva brought her axe around, fearing he intended to spray them with his fiery breath.

Borys did not attack. “If you give me Tithian and the Lens, I’ll return your child and let you live,” he offered. “I’ll even leave Tyr alone.”

Neeva looked up at his hand, far above. She could see Rkard’s feet and hands protruding from between the Dragon’s claws, but nothing else.

“How do I know my son’s still alive?” Neeva asked.

The warrior found herself croaking the words. She did not know whether the dryness in her throat was due to her fear or the parching wind blowing in her face. Borys poised a claw over the center of his palm, approximately where Rkard’s chest would be. “Would you like to hear him scream?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Neeva glared up at the Dragon for a moment, then faced her husband as if to speak with him. As badly as she wanted to agree to the terms, she did not trust Borys any more than she would have trusted Tithian. She had no intention of revealing the Lens’s location, but she was simply trying to buy Sadira a little more time to maneuver into position.

Caelum turned a palm upward, calling upon the sun for his spell. To Neeva’s horror, a spout of glowing red ash shot down from the sky to lick at her husband’s hand. The dwarf’s eyes went wide, and a sound like roaring wind howled from inside the arch.

Neeva spun around, holding the flat of her blade before her. Borys had drawn himself up to full height, his bony chest puffed out with air. His snout gaped so far open that she could see a yellow glow rising from deep in his gullet.

At least we’re holding his attention, Neeva thought.

The beast dropped his head and spewed a cone of white-hot sand at the warrior and her husband.

Rikus saw a strange spout of crimson ash whirl down from the sky, descending into the gorge just a short distance from the great arch. Then came a roaring sizzle he recognized from previous battles against the Dragon: the blast of scorching breath. Clouds of blazing hot sand billowed up around the ash. The spout quickly dissolved, drifting away in a fog of gray flakes. Borys’s breath continued to roar.

Rikus looked down at the king, who was less that ten feet away, hanging from the cliff face by all six claws. “The fight’s started!” the mul yelled. “Hurry up!”

Rikus jumped to his feet and started up the rugged slope. He had taken only three steps when a long chain of yellow runes squirmed off the great arch and streaked down to the mound’s crest. They struck with boom after thunderous boom, and the entire summit seemed to explode into shards of basalt and plumes of acrid smoke. The mul covered his head and waited for the eruption to pass. When the choking haze thinned, he saw thirteen obsidian statues standing on top of the ridge. They had round, featureless heads with no faces, and their arms ended in fan-shaped blades.

The statues came lumbering down the slope with plunging, stiff-legged strides that sent loose rocks skittering down the hill before them. As the golems came nearer, Rikus saw a single, yellow flame twinkling in the dark breast of each one.

“What’s that racket?” called Tithian. He was still hanging on the cliff and could not look over the top to see the approaching golems.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Rikus answered. “But watch your head. There might be some falling rocks.”

Rikus drew the Scourge and waited, deciding that he could use the cliff to good advantage against the clumsy statues. The four golems in the center reached him first, slashing at his neck. The mul ducked and counterattacked, bringing his blade through the breasts of all four attackers. The enchanted steel cut through the obsidian like flesh. As the sword sliced through the yellow flame inside each golem’s breast, the statues burst into shards, opening more than a dozen deep slashes along the mul’s side.

Rikus hardly noticed the cuts, except as a warning to be more careful about how he destroyed the other statues. He had not suffered any crippling wounds when these golems exploded, but he might not be so lucky next time.

The mul turned and charged one flank of the golems’ line. He ducked the flailing arms of the first statue, then counterattacked with a series of vicious slashes that took the legs off both it and the next one in line. The third golem stooped over to slash at Rikus’s legs, anticipating that he would duck again. The mul leaped over its head and sent it tumbling over the cliff with a stomp-kick to the back. He found himself descending straight into the thrashing blades of the fourth golem.

Rikus flipped his blade around and drove it straight down to the thing’s yellow heart. It exploded as the others had, but the shards sprayed out horizontally, and the mul suffered no cuts as he came down before the last statue. This one split its attacks, one arm slicing low and the other high. Rikus leaped back and waited for the appendages to cross, then darted forward and sliced them both off at the elbows. The thing threw itself at him. Rikus grabbed a stump and sidestepped, bracing a foot against its ankle. When he pivoted, the golem’s own momentum carried it over the cliff.

As it shattered on the stones below, Rikus faced the last four golems and found them forming a semicircle above him. The mul backed to the edge of the cliff and braced himself. The dark statues closed ranks and rushed, their hands slashing high, low, and through all points in between. Rikus parried for a moment, lopping off a couple of obsidian hands, then stepped back and dropped off the precipice.

As he fell, Rikus drove the tip of the Scourge down into the cliff at a steep angle, catching himself just a yard below the top. Only two golems followed him over the edge, unable to stop their advances in time to keep from falling. Still attacking as they plummeted past, one managed to open a deep gash next to the mul’s spine. Then they both shattered against the rocks below.

The last two golems kneeled at the cliff’s brink.

The mul thrust his free hand into a crevice and knotted his fist, twisting against the stone to jam it in place. As the two statues above began to slash at him, he pulled the Scourge free and severed one golem’s head. The thing hardly seemed to notice, thrashing at the arm Rikus had thrust into the crevice. When it could not reach, it dropped to its belly. The other golem, now excluded from the combat, returned to its feet and stepped away, where the mul could not see it.

Rikus waited until his attacker’s arms spread wide, then pulled himself close and thrust the Scourge up through the brink of the cliff. The blade passed through the basalt easily, driving deep into the golem’s chest. The statue exploded, though the cliff edge sheltered the mul from suffering more cuts.

When the last golem did not take this one’s place, Rikus began to pull himself up. A pair of heavy steps sounded atop the precipice. A boulder slowly appeared over the brink, held between the statue’s glassy arms. Cursing, the mul stretched across the cliff face and drove the Scourge deep into a knob of rock. He pulled his other hand from the crevice and swung away just as the huge rock plunged past.

The golem peered over the cliff and cocked its head at Rikus, then turned away. The mul pushed himself up and grabbed the statue’s ankle. As the thing stepped away, it dragged him back onto the cliff top. Leaving the Scourge planted in the precipice, Rikus rolled into the back of the golem’s legs. The thing tumbled over his body, landing flat on its back. The mul did not even stand but simply whipped himself around and pushed it over the edge with his feet.

“Most impressive, Rikus,” called Tithian. The king was just crawling onto the top of the cliff. “Aren’t you glad now for all that time you trained in my gladiator pits?”

The mul clenched his teeth and reached down to pull the Scourge free. “Stop talking and start climbing,” he growled. “The fight’s started, and we’re late.”

Gliding silently and invisibly along the gorge wall, Sadira watched Borys’s scouring breath bubble around Neeva and Caelum. He had been spewing sand at them for nearly a minute now, with no sign that he would stop soon. Thanks to the enchantment she had placed on the blade, the scalding wind caused her friends no harm. Nevertheless, the attack did keep the pair pinned close together, and the sorceress suspected that was why the Dragon continued to assault them with it.

The sorceress dived toward the battle, coming down the face of the arch, her hand vibrating with a soft hum. She knew the noise would alert the Dragon to her presence, but she did not care. By the time he cast a spell to undo the magic that made her invisible, her attack would be made. The sorceress descended past several yellow runes and slipped beneath the arch’s vault. She saw her target below and dropped.

Borys continued to spew sand at Neeva and Caelum, his arrow-shaped head pushed forward and his beady eyes flashing with rancor. The sharp spines of his crest glistened under Sadira like so many spears. He was stooped slightly forward, presenting his scaly shoulders to the sorceress.

Caelum cast a spell from outside the arch, and a layer of flame appeared beneath Sadira. She lost sight of the Dragon and had to slow her dive. Then she saw a clawed hand pluck the fire from the air like a silk cloth. Borys hurled the spell back at the dwarf. Neeva caught the blazing sheet on the heft of her axe, then whipped it away. The flames blanketed the canyon wall and continued to burn.

Resuming her dive, Sadira looked into the palm in which the Dragon held Rkard. Her stomach twisted into knots, and a cold hand clutched at her heart. The young mul was still not moving, and he looked almost starved. She could see every rib on his torso, and his stomach was distended with hunger. His skin was flushed and scaly from lack of water, and his limbs were as thin as sticks. Still, the sorceress had to bite her cheek to keep from calling out to Neeva. The boy’s eyes were open, and he was touching one hand to the sun-mark on his forehead. He had survived!

As Sadira slipped past the Dragon’s bony shoulder, the beast abruptly closed his mouth. He cocked his ear toward her, and a knowing gleam flashed in his eyes. The first syllables of an incantation began to slip from his leathery lips.

The sorceress reached Borys’s midsection and slapped her hand against his belly. She spoke the command word of her spell. She immediately turned visible, for she did not possess the psionic talents to keep herself hidden after making an attack. A deep hum throbbed through Borys’s abdomen, then the tintinnabulation of shattering glass erupted from inside his stomach.

The Dragon roared in pain. He struggled to finish the incantation he had begun a moment earlier, but he only managed to belch forth a cloud of black dust-all that remained of the obsidian globes that had been stored in his stomach.

Sadira swung up toward the hand holding Rkard. Far below, Neeva and Caelum charged the arch, yelling and screaming madly. The sorceress streaked past Borys’s wrist and swept low over his palm. She reached down and snagged Rkard, gathering him up into her arms-and felt four sharp claws close around her body.

“Caught you, stupid woman,” the Dragon chortled. He jerked her out of the air and closed his fist, bearing down with indescribable force. “I knew you’d come for the child.”

Sadira wrapped herself around Rkard, protecting the boy from the awful pressure. At the same time, she kicked at the Dragon’s gnarled fingers, trying to break one or force them open. It was no use. The sorceress might have been imbued with the power of the sun, but the Dragon was infused with a magical force just as strong.

Borys met the charge of Rkard’s parents at the front of the arch. He casually kicked Neeva aside, sending her tumbling across the broken ground, then stomped at Caelum with his other foot. The dwarf saved himself by diving away.

Sadira tried to look toward the top of the cliffs, wondering if Rikus and Tithian could see what was happening. The effort was futile. She could peer between Borys’s scaly fingers and see most of what was happening on the ground, but it was impossible to twist around to look up.

“Sadira! You shouldn’t have come for me,” said Rkard. He was so hoarse that the sorceress could barely understand him.

“Of course I should have,” the sorceress replied, her voice strained. It was all she could do to keep her arms extended and her body curled over Rkard so the Dragon’s fist would not crush the boy. “You’re going to kill Borys.”

“I don’t think so,” Rkard said. “Jo’orsh said something that-”

The Dragon bore down harder.

“Not now, Rkard,” Sadira groaned. She tensed every muscle in her body, struggling to keep herself and the boy from being crushed.

Borys stepped from beneath the arch and peered down at Caelum, who was struggling to return to his feet. Sadira took a deep breath, expecting Rikus’s war cry to ring off the gorge walls as he and Tithian leapt down from above.

The only thing she heard was Borys chuckling. The Dragon fixed one beady eye on Caelum. From the intensity of his gaze, she guessed that he was about to use the Way against the dwarf.

“No!” The sorceress started to reach for a spell component but had to stop when she nearly collapsed on top of Rkard.

To Sadira’s surprise, the rugged image of a human man suddenly flashed into the shadowy corridors of her mind. He had blocky features, with a shaven head, round ears, and a long beard with no mustache. His eyes were beady and full of hatred, much as the Dragon’s, and he was dressed in a full suit of gleaming plate armor.

At first, Sadira was perplexed about what she was seeing. Then she realized that Borys was attacking with the Way.

The knight pulled a sword and walked until he reached a door of polished ebony, which he kicked open. The doorway opened into a gloomy room with a high, vaulted ceiling. The walls were lined by benches and draped with richly colored tapestries depicting the bearded dwarves of old. In the center of the chamber, a ball of crimson fire hovered over a circle of white marble.

Sadira was confused. She had no memories of such a room. It almost seemed as though she were looking into Caelum’s mind.

The warrior crossed to the circle and paused before the blazing globe. “I should have finished my job and cleansed the world of every filthy dwarf when I had the chance.”

A few tendrils of flame lashed out and washed over the knight’s armor. He simply laughed and raised his sword, then began to chop away great pieces of the burning sphere.

In the ravine, Caelum began to scream, leaving no doubt in Sadira’s mind about what she was seeing. The Dragon’s mental attack was so powerful that it had penetrated her thoughts, carrying a part of her consciousness into the victim’s mind.

“What’s happening?” Rkard demanded.

Sadira covered the boy’s eyes. “Don’t look.”

Caelum fell silent, then his body erupted into a spray of blood and flesh. It collapsed to the ground in a dozen neatly sliced pieces. Borys snickered then turned around and stepped back toward the arch.

Sadira heard Neeva yell. The sorceress shifted her gaze between another pair of fingers and saw Rkard’s mother burying the sparkling edge of her axe into Borys’s leathery calf. The blade bit deep, and the Dragon’s leg began to jerk with rhythmic convulsions.

The spasms brought a feeling of satisfaction and hope to Sadira. She knew that with each contraction, the enchantment she had placed on Neeva’s axe was pumping another bolt of mystic energy into Borys’s leg. The resulting explosions were not powerful enough to kill the Dragon, but they would certainly serve to slow him down for Rikus and Tithian.

Apparently Borys had no interest in waiting for the pair to arrive. Growling in pain, he limped back beneath his arch without taking the time to remove either the axe or Neeva from his leg. As the Dragon passed between the pillars, he uttered a long series of words in a language Sadira didn’t understand.

A loud crackle echoed off the walls of the arch, then a brilliant flash of orange light forced Sadira to close her eyes. She felt Borys step forward, then the mordant stench of boiling rock burned her nose and throat. Her stomach grew queasy, and she suddenly felt as light as a cloud.

“Rikus!” she yelled. “Where are you?”