Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 4 - Obsidian Oracle (20 page)

In contrast to their parents, the children all had distinctly human heads, though their
features were always marred by some gruesome blemish. Less than ten yards away, a
seven-foot toddler was playing in a dust pit. She looked completely normal, save for the
trunklike extension dangling off her nose. Near her, two brothers were playing catch with
a full-grown ram. With their dark hair and patrician features, they did not look so
different than the few Joorsh children that Fylo had seen, save that the oldest boy's ears
dangled down to the ground, and the right eye of the youngest was so large that it covered
the whole side of his face.

Beyond the two boys, huge walls of crystal stood scattered across the entire plain, each
formed from a different mineral and each enclosing an irregular patch of ground. There
were quartz enclosures, mica, tourmaline, and a dozen others. The compounds could not have
been called buildings, for they lacked anything that looked like a roof, a door, or a
window. Instead they resembled the cactus hedges that Fylo had seen around the estates of
some Balican nobles when he went to steal sheep or grain.

The only thing standing higher than the crystal walls were the blocky fortifications that
encircled the top of the stony bluff. The walls stood twice as high as a giant, with huge
piles of stones heaped all along their foundations. These mounds were interrupted only
occasionally, by rough-hewn staircases or murky doorways that led to the hanging turrets
outside the castle. In many places, beastheads were passing boulders up the ramparts,
where other giants loaded the stones into huge carts and transported them to strategic
locations along the wall.

As Bawan Nal led Fylo toward the back of the citadel, he continued to hold the
half-breed's arm. “You've done well to win the heart of such a magnificent creature, my
friend,” he said, twisting his owl- like head almost completely around to watch it. “Soon,
you and he shall be the same.”

“What you mean?” asked Fylo, worried that the bawan meant he would be dead-the same as the
bear.

Nal smiled. “You shall see soon enough.”

Without stopping, the bawan suddenly tipped his head back and sounded a series of deep
hoots that set his feathers to waving. The cries were long and sonorous, more like the
trumpeting of a horn than the call of a living creature.

A hush quickly spread over the yard. As Nal led Fylo and the bear toward a quartz
enclosure in the far corner of the citadel, Saram giants began to fall in line behind
them. The beastheads with the deepest voices sang an eerie lyric composed entirely of
long, sad howls. Despite the lack of words, the strange song sent shivers down the
half-breed's spine. When the procession reached the compound, the bawan raised a hand to
halt the procession.

The bawan stepped into the entrance of the enclosure-an unadorned break in the wall of
quartz-and addressed the tribe. “We will soon welcome a new warrior to the Saram,” he
said, his eyes gleaming yellow with reflected moonlight. “Fylo has already proven his
worth to us by warning me of the Balkan fleet, and he has proven himself worthy of our
admiration by selecting as his animal-brother the mightiest of all Lybdos's beasts: a
bear!”

The crowd broke into a chorus of wild growls. Fylo beamed at them in delight, then looked
into the bear's eyes. He nodded, signaling Agis that now was a good time to reveal the
secret that would keep Nal from being angry. The half-breed suspected that they did not
have long before the bawan was ready to cut the bear's head off.

Nal continued, “As if he had not already done enough to earn our esteem, Fylo brought his
animal-brother to us in a third the time that any convert has ever done it before!” The
bawan gestured at the bear. “It only took him five days to convince this mighty beast to
give up its head!”

Fylo did not miss the note of mockery in Nal's voice, but the wild shrieks and whistles
that accompanied the crowd's cheer reassured him that all was well.

Nal gestured for Fylo to enter the enclosure. “Bring your bear inside, my friend.”

The proud smile faded from Fylo's lips, and he could not tear his gaze away from the bear.
He wondered why Agis was waiting so long to tell him the secret that would make Nal happy.
The thought crossed his mind that his friend had betrayed him, maybe there was no secret.

“You give Fylo bear's head now?” he asked, already dreading the moment when the bawan
found Agis and the others inside the beast.

“We should wait for dawn,” Nal said. “But foolish Mag'r thinks he's sneaking up on us. The
Joorsh army will arrive before dawn, so we'll have to do this tonight.” Fylo's jaw fell
open in astonishment. “The Joorsh?” he gasped. “Here?”

Nal nodded. “It's taken a long time for them to get up the nerve to attack, but our losses
to the Balican fleet finally gave them the courage,” said the bawan. He fluffed the
feathers beneath his beak, then eyed Fylo thoughtfully. “Strange how that worked, isn't
it?”

The giant furrowed his brow. “How what work?”

“Sachem Mag'r and I had an agreement. If the Bali-cans interfered in our war, we were to
suspend our fight and attack Balk.” Nal reached behind the enclosure wall and grabbed an
axe. It had an obsidian blade as large as a schooner's keel-board. “But instead of
attacking Balk, the Joorsh are sneaking up on us!” the bawan yelled, obviously angry.

“Nasty Joorsh!” Fylo agreed, nodding vigorously.

The bawan laid the axe blade against Fylo's neck. “I think Sachem Mag'r doesn't need the
Oracle as much as he claims. I think he's smart enough to send you here to warn me about
the fleet, so we would attack it-and lose a quarter of our warriors!”

“Fylo no Joorsh!” Fylo gasped. “Sachem Mag'r filthy!”

Nal did not remove the blade. “And do you know what else I think?” he sneered. “I think
you're
not as dumb as you act. It's no coincidence that you returned on the eve of Mag'r's
attack, is it?”

Fylo's recessed jaw began to quiver, and he shook his head. “Not Fylo's idea,” he said.

Bawan Nal snorted. “What are you to do?” he demanded. “Wait until the battle starts, then
use your bear to open the gate?”

Fylo shook his head. “No. Bawan think wrong.”

“I think right,” Nal replied, raising his axe.

The bear leaped forward, knocking Fylo aside and blocking the bawan's axe with an immense
foreleg. The blow took the limb cleanly off. A trickle of cold blood spilled from the dead
beast's wound, and it crashed face-first to the stony ground. Instantly, a dozen Saram
warriors jumped on its back and began prying at its bony armor.

The half-breed stepped toward the bear, then abruptly stopped.
He
still did not know whether Nal had been lying about making him a Saram, so he couldn't
decide whether he should try to correct the misunderstanding or attack Nal.

As Fylo contemplated his decision, the dead bear tried briefly to stand. The giants on its
back weighed too much for even its great strength, and it collapsed back to the ground.
The beastheads attacked with renewed fury, and a shoulder plate went sailing out of the
fray. Soon, the half-breed knew, they would reach the bear's interior. They were so
furious that he doubted they would even notice Agis's small body before they ripped it to
pieces.

The thought of losing his first and only true friend made up Fylo's mind for him. He
stepped over to the fray and grabbed a weasel-headed woman, throwing her off the bear.

“Get up, Agis!” he yelled.

Behind you, Fylo!
came the reply.
Don't worry about us.

The half-breed spun and saw Nal standing behind him. His axe was raised to strike again,
but, astonished by the bear's mental message, he was staring at it in wide-eyed
astonishment. Fylo gave the bawan a mighty shove, sending him crashing back into the
quartz enclosure. Nal's head hit the wall with a resounding crack, and the axe slipped
from his hands. His eyes grew glassy and unfocused, then he reached back to grasp a large
crystal and brace himself.

Returning his attention to saving Agis, Fylo pulled another Saram off the pile, then a
second and a third. As quickly as he flung one aside, another leaped into the missing
warrior's place. Other beastheads began to attack him, clawing at his gravelly skin and
raining thunderous blows down on his head. The half-breed could see that he would never
free his friend in this manner, but be did not know what else he could do.

The bear's efforts were just as futile. Pinned as it was on its stomach, it could bring
neither its three remaining legs or its muzzle to bear on them. It tried to roll over and
crawl away, but met with no success. The immense weight bearing down on it probably would
have been too great for a live bear, and Fylo knew that, as exhausted as Agis must be, he
would not be able to infuse its muscles with even that much strength.

“Leave bear!” Fylo yelled, locking his arm around a lizard-headed Saram. “Bear not
dangerous-Fylo is!”

The half-breed grabbed the warrior's chin and pulled, snapping the neck with a loud
crackle. A death rattle gurgled from the beasthead's throat, then he dropped motionless to
the ground. The other Saram hardly seemed to notice, save that some of those attacking him
added their fangs to the battle.

Run, Fylo!
Agis sent.
You'll do us more good if you escape.

“But-”

Do it!
Agis commanded.
Before Nal attach you again.

The half-breed grabbed a Saram attacker and spun around to see Nal leaping at him. The
bawan held his fingers splayed like claws, while his hooked beak gaped wide open for the
strike. Fylo hurled his captive at the owl-headed giant. Both Saram crashed to the ground
with a tremendous rumble, Nal's fingers and beak slashing wildly at his tribesman.

Fylo stepped away, pumping his legs hard as he tried to sprint to safety. Three strides
later, a handful of Saram hit him from the side. The half-breed slammed into the ground
and heard himself groan as his breath was forced from his lungs. In the next instant, he
found a beasthead warrior sitting on each of his limbs, with two more straddling his chest.

Gasping for breath, he arched his back and tried to roll. His efforts were to no avail.
Like his bear, he could not battle the sheer crush of bodies holding him down. Fylo looked
toward the beast and saw that the Saram had ripped most of its bony plates away. Now they
were mercilessly gouging its dead flesh with their fangs and filthy fingernails. The
half-breed summoned his remaining strength and made one last attempt to pull free of his
captors, but could not liberate even a single limb.

Nal came over and stood at Fylo's side, holding his axe near the half-breed's head. “I
accepted you into my tribe,” he hissed angrily. “And you repay me with treachery!”

The bawan brought the axe handle down. A loud crack rang through Fylo's skull, and
everything went black for a moment. His nose went numb, and blood began to stream back
into his throat, filling his mouth with a coppery taste.

“Please,” Fylo begged. “Don't let warriors hurt little people.”

“Little people?” Nal asked.

The bawan struck again with his axe handle. This time, a terrible lancing pain shot
through Fylo's eye. The lid puffed up instantly.

“In bear,” Fylo said, using his chin to motion toward the beast. “They have secret for
Bawan Nal.”

Nal stopped hitting Fylo and twisted his fluffy head toward the bear. About that time, the
half-breed saw a flash of blue, sizzling light glimmer over the beast's entire body. The
Saram pinning it to the ground screamed in shock and clawed madly at each other in their
panicked haste to leap free. With a great roar, the beast rose to its three remaining feet
and galloped forward in an awkward hobble, heading straight for Fylo.

Nal stepped between the half-breed and his bear, hefting the axe and hooting an eerie war
cry. The bear flung itself into the air, trying to leap over the blade and seize the
bawan's head in its maw.

Nal ducked. At the same time, the bawan brought his blade around in a horizontal slice
that severed the bear's remaining foreleg and ripped the bony armor off its chest. The
animal's long snout plowed into the rocky ground and stopped, while the momentum of its
charge carried it head over heels. Its immense rump crashed into the enclosure wall, and
it came to rest flat on its back

“Agis!” Fylo yelled, worried about his friend.

The bawan's axe flashed three more times, severing the bear's two remaining limbs and its
head. Once the beast could cause no more harm, Nal positioned himself above its chest and
swung his blade one more time. When it cleaved the bear's sternum, Fylo heard a trio of
muffled screams sound from inside the beast's body.

Nal's ears pricked up. He pulled his axe free with a loud rasp, then reached into the
wound with both hands to pull the sternum apart. The heavy bones separated with a sharp
crack, and he opened it up like a walnut.

“What have we here?” the bawan asked. He glanced back at Fylo with an angry glimmer in his
eye, then thrust a huge hand inside the bear's chest. “Lungworms?”

An immense sheet of rock crystal covered the pit, its edges melting into the surrounding
granite with no visible seam. So thin and pellucid was this lid that whenever one of the
amorphous forms beneath slipped up to press against the veneer, Agis saw the ghostly
features of a face. Usually the visage belonged to a child with a soft chin, fleshy
cheeks, and hurt, questioning eyes.

“Why did you come to Lybdos?” demanded Nal.

The bawan stood on Sa'ram's Bridge, a stone trestle that arced over the pit. With one
hand, he held Agis's ankles, dangling the noble far above the translucent slab. In his
other hand, Nal clutched Tithian and Kester, his fingers wrapped so rightly around their
chests that their faces had turned purple. V

Tithian was the one who answered. “We've already told you!” the king declared. “Our ship
wrecked on Mytilene. Sachem Mag'r promised to let us live if we helped him.”