The Cerulean Storm

by Denning, Troy

  Rajaat continued to squeeze for several more moments, forks of lightning dancing in his diamond-shaped eyes. Then, as Sadira’s muscles began to quiver with fatigue, he relaxed his grip. He looked away from his prisoner and gazed down at the lake below. A school of five huge fish was slipping through the gap Rikus had opened in the rockstem hedge and was swimming toward the Dark Lens.

  Rajaat smiled and, in a voice so soft Sadira could hardly hear it, whispered, “Finally, the traitors have come!”

  The sorceress felt Rajaat’s hand tense and realized he was about to throw her. She dug both hands into her captor’s vaporish flesh, then the ancient sorcerer hurled her down toward the Dark Lens.

  A wisp of turquoise cloud came away in Sadira’s hand. As she spoke the single word of her incantation, the vapor spread out beneath her, stopping her fall at the height of Rajaat’s waist. The ancient sorcerer took an absentminded swipe at her, sending her cloud drifting away on an invisible tide of air, then fixed his attention on the water at his feet. The crown of lightning around his head began to crackle and dance more madly.

  Sadira peered over the edge of her cushion, and saw King Tec rising from beneath the waters with the Dark Lens balanced on his back. He turned toward Rajaat and stared up at the ancient sorcerer, his beak clattering. A short distance away, the water boiled around Nibenay and Hamanu as they summoned the energy to cast a spell, leaving a huge expanse of rockstem colorless and defiled in the process. The Oba and Andropinis stood nearby, staring intently into the Lens as they prepared to use the Way.

  Tithian and Sacha abandoned their hiding places and started toward the Dark Lens. Rikus, who had continued hacking at Rajaat’s ankle until Sadira was freed, stepped away from the ancient sorcerer and moved to attack the king.

  “Rikus, no!” Sadira reached into her cloak pocket.

  From the way Rajaat had reacted when he first saw the sorcerer-kings, the sorceress suspected he would attack before “the traitors” could execute their plan. She did not want Rikus near the Dark Lens when that happened.

  The ancient sorcerer’s crown of lightning suddenly fell silent. His gaze went vacant, and a tempest of sapphire hailstones began to build in his diamond-shaped eyes.

  Sadira tossed the tough belly scale of a rock adder toward her husband, uttering her incantation as it fell. A shimmering gray shield appeared over the entire area surrounding him.

  Two streams of smoking hailstones hissed down from Rajaat’s eyes. With a deafening roar, the pellets crashed off the sorceress’s shield and bounced away. They dropped into the lake many yards away, sending steaming plumes of water high into the air.

  When the storm subsided, Rajaat’s eyes were almost white with anger. He raised a foot to step toward Sadira, flashing sheets of lightning crackling off his crown.

  Hamanu and Nibenay pointed toward the Dark Lens, roaring the incantations to cast their spells. Tiny streams of absolute blackness shot from their fingertips into the orb. The currents came out on the other side, magnified into great rivers, and washed over Rajaat, swallowing Rikus and Tithian on the way.

  The Oba and Andropinis attacked next, facing each other and moving their hands through the empty air. They kept their eyes fixed on the ebony murk that had engulfed Rajaat, and soon the dark mass began to assume the shape of a sphere. When the globe was perfectly round, the two sorcerers moved closer together. The black orb holding Rajaat began to shrink.

  Sadira felt far from relieved. The sorcerer-kings’ plan had been an efficient one, and her intervention on Rikus’s behalf had kept Rajaat’s counterattack from interrupting it. Still, the ancient sorcerer had clearly been expecting the sorcerer-kings—even looking forward to their arrival. Given that, it seemed strange that he had relied on only one spell to stop them, and that his last act before being captured had been to come after her.

  This battle, the sorceress suspected, was far from over. Nevertheless, she had learned something valuable from it. The Dark Lens was not only a mindbender’s tool. The sorcerer-kings had used it to increase the power of their spells a hundredfold. Unfortunately, Sadira had already seen that her own magic had very little effect on Rajaat, and she did not think the Lens would change that. But she knew of someone else who might be able to use the orb to good effect.

  Sadira took a deep breath, then turned and uttered a soft incantation. When she exhaled, her cloud began to move as though a stiff wind were blowing it across the sky. The sorceress cupped one hand and held it out to her side. Her flying cushion turned toward the Dark Lens. Keeping a watchful eye on the sorcerer-kings, she flew over and slowly circled the area.

  Nibenay raised a hand to wave her down. “You’ve served us well,” he said. “You have nothing to fear from us.”

  Sadira did not fly any lower. Watching both him and Hamanu even more closely, she asked, “And what of Rikus?”

  “In there, with the Usurper and Rajaat,” said Hamanu, gesturing at the black sphere. The Oba and Andropinis had already managed to squeeze the globe down so that it was no taller than a small giant.

  Sadira tried not to be afraid. She had retrieved people from the Black before, and she saw no reason that she would not be able to do it again.

  Her hopes must have shown on her face.

  Nibenay said, “Don’t think that your powers can call your husband back. He’s beneath the Black, not part of it.”

  “What’s the difference?” Sadira asked.

  “The Black is shadow. It shows what is by what is missing,” explained Hamanu. “But beneath the Black is the Hollow, where nothing is missing because nothing remains—not the future, not the past, not even the Gray. Nothing—simply nothing.”

  “Now, come down here as I told you to do,” Nibenay commanded, his voice growing irritated. “It will be better for you and us if we declare a truce.”

  Pretending to accept the sorcerer-king’s offer, Sadira circled around to have one last look for her husband. She angled her hands so that her cloud descended, swooping low over Rajaat’s new prison and the Dark Lens. When she saw nothing but the white, lifeless rockstem that Nibenay and Hamanu had defiled, the sorceress curved away.

  That was when she noticed a black shadow swimming through the water behind Andropinis. Though only about the size of an elf, the silhouette retained Rajaat’s basic shape. It was slithering along the bottom of the defiled lake, so that only someone looking down from directly above was likely to see it.

  Rajaat had learned a new trick in his prison. While the sorcerer-kings had concentrated on capturing his body, he had been lurking in his own shadow all along.

  Sadira smiled to herself. Now she knew how to defeat Rajaat. All she had to do was steal the Lens and return to the crater with it.

  Nibenay turned his palm downward and defiled more rockstem, preparing to cast a spell. The sorceress continued to fly, trying not to watch Rajaat’s shadow. The sorcerer-king raised his hand, pointing toward Sadira.

  In the same instant, Rajaat’s shadow emerged from the water and threw his dripping arms around Andropinis’s throat.

  “For you, eternal confinement,” Rajaat hissed.

  Andropinis screamed in alarm as his ancient master’s silhouette swallowed him. The sorcerer-king’s cry fell silent almost at once, and no sign of him remained.

  Nibenay changed his aim from Sadira to Rajaat and fairly screamed his incantation. A net of pulsing white energy shot from his hand. It passed through the ancient sorcerer’s shadowy form without effect, but the Oba, who had been standing across from Andropinis when he was seized, had to duck to avoid being hit. Deprived of any chance to cast a spell or use the Way against her former master, she dropped into the water and pushed herself away from him.

  Rajaat ignored the sorcerer-queen and stepped toward the Dark Lens, which was still being supported on King Tec’s back. Nibenay and Hamanu, standing between the ancient sorcerer and the Lens, retreated in opposite directions, one summoning the energy for a spell and the other furrowing his brow as he prep
ared to use the Way.

  Sadira circled around and lined herself up behind Rajaat. She moved toward the back of her cloud so there would be room for the Dark Lens, then angled the nose downward and started to descend.

  On the other side of the Lens, the Black stopped shrinking. “I need help!” King Tec yelled, still trying to keep the Lens focused on the shadowy sphere. “Nibenay, Hamanu—”

  Rajaat stepped up behind him, plucking the Dark Lens off his back. “For you, death.”

  He brought the orb down. Tec’s skull split with a tremendous bang, spraying foul-smelling smoke and sizzling drops of fiery red blood in all directions.

  Sadira smiled. She was coming up directly behind Rajaat. The sorceress hoped to lift the Dark Lens out of his grasp as her cloud passed through his shadowy body. But if her tactic resulted in a collision instead, she would have a better chance than anyone of recovering the Dark Lens. With her body imbued by the sun’s power, the impact would not harm her, and at least she was anticipating it.

  Rajaat faced Nibenay, raising the Lens in both hands. “For you, a thousand years of torment.”

  Rajaat stepped toward the sorcerer-king, causing Sadira to pull up the front of her cloud and execute a tight bank. She rose along the side of the ancient sorcerer’s shoulder. For an instant, the sorceress feared he would glimpse her in his peripheral vision, then she was staring up at the Dark Lens.

  The cloud lifted the heavy orb out of Rajaat’s hands—then abruptly dived as the extra weight pushed the nose down. Sadira found herself dropping straight toward the dark sphere in which Rikus and Tithian were imprisoned. Behind her, Rajaat cried out in surprise, and sorcerer-kings began shouting orders. The sorceress hardly heard them, for she was too busy trying to pull the Dark Lens toward the rear of the cloud so the nose would rise.

  As Sadira approached the Black, a surge of searing energy rushed up from the depths of the Dark Lens. Forks of blue lightning crackled over her body, and she began to suffer muscle spasms. Surprised, she could not prevent her cloud from continuing its dive, and it crashed straight into the murky sphere the sorcerer-kings had created.

  Sadira saw a black flash. The explosion that followed was not as large as the one that had destroyed the Dragon’s sanctum, for the Lens was only partially charged. Still, the sorceress found herself soaring through the air backwards. She splashed into the shallow lake some distance away, with the Dark Lens pressing down on her chest and water filling her lungs.

  NINETEEN

  FLOOD WATERS

  RIKUS KICKED OFF THE HIPBONE OF A MASSIVE skeleton and sailed through the colorless ether. He grabbed Tithian by his long braid of gray hair and used it to pull them together, then slipped an arm around the king’s throat and squeezed. The king coughed and rasped for breath, digging his fingers into the mul’s arm in a futile attempt to free himself. Rikus only tightened his grip.

  The mul, the king, and Sacha were floating inside a black sphere with a huge skeleton Rikus assumed to be Rajaat’s. It was impossible to tell the size of their prison. The place seemed entirely filled by the ancient sorcerer’s yellowed bones, yet Tithian had tried several times to push off an ankle or hand and float out to the dark walls. He had never seemed able to reach them, and when Rikus caught up with him, they had always seemed to be next to the skeleton.

  Rikus glimpsed Sacha floating toward his back from behind a thighbone. The mul gave his torso a sharp twist but used too much power and spun himself past the disembodied head. More accustomed to maneuvering through the air, Sacha took advantage of the mistake to streak forward. He clamped his teeth around the warrior’s ear and began to rip.

  Screaming in pain, Rikus shoved Tithian away, and with a stomp-kick to the back, sent the king tumbling toward the skeleton’s skull. The mul reached up, grasping Sacha by the nose with one hand and by the chin with the other. He snapped his attacker’s mouth open, drawing a loud crack from the lower jaw, then brought his knee up and smashed Sacha against it. Sacha’s eyes went glassy and blank, then brown, foul-smelling ooze began to pour from his nostrils and ears.

  Rikus tossed Sacha’s crushed skull aside then turned back toward Tithian. The king was floating near the skeleton’s head, his dark eyes locked on the mul. Fearing that the king was preparing to attack with the Way, Rikus ducked under the skeleton’s leg.

  As Rikus started to pull himself forward, crooked lines of lightning began dancing across the walls of the black sphere. His first thought was that Tithian was responsible. He peered over the skeleton’s torso and found the king staring in confusion at the dark shell of their prison.

  The lightning cords suddenly connected with each other, forming a crackling net of energy. With a shrill hiss, the black walls dissolved into wisps of shadow. A blinding blue flash filled the sphere, then the mul felt himself being drawn upward.

  Rikus tumbled through the air for what seemed a long time, his eyes filled with spots. Finally, he began to arc downward, and through his erratic vision, he saw turquoise clouds and a blue sun above him. He hit the water so hard that it felt as if he had slammed into a granite plain instead of splashing into a lake. The air rushed from his lungs, and he went under.

  Rikus felt himself touch bottom, then he pushed off and shot back to the surface of the lake. He came up coughing water and flailing his arms. Somehow, he managed to keep his head above water long enough to see a floating tree trunk, then swam toward it with choppy, uneven strokes.

  When he reached his goal, Rikus threw his arms over the log and spent several moments clearing his lungs of water. His flesh stung and his joints ached from the impact of the fall, but he did not feel any serious injuries.

  A loud boom echoed across the lake from behind Rikus. Fearing a magical attack from Tithian, the mul twisted around. More than fifty paces away, he saw a black orb streaking into the sky. Sitting on top of it was the figure of an ebony-skinned woman, her long amber hair waving in the wind. Sadira had recovered the Dark Lens.

  Rikus started to call out for her to come back but stopped when he saw the figures of three sorcerer-kings rising from the lake to go after her. He could hear their voices shouting but was too distant to understand their words. Two of them turned their palms downward, and frothing spouts of water rose toward their hands as they summoned the energy to cast spells.

  Rikus cursed his inability to aid Sadira, then he watched as the sorcerer-kings closed their hands and pointed toward his wife.

  “Sadira, watch yourself!”

  As the mul called the words, Rajaat’s skeleton rose out of the lake between the sorcerer-kings and Sadira. It was not as large as when Rikus had first seen it, now standing only about as high as a full giant.

  “No!” boomed Rajaat’s angry voice. “You shall wait here for your punishment.”

  The skeleton pointed three of its curled talons at the sorcerer-kings. Glittering blue bubbles shot from the digits, and each engulfed one of the figures flying after Sadira. The shimmering balls of water brought their prisoners to a quick halt. They began to drift over the lake in a lazy circle, small bulges appearing in their liquid walls as the occupants tried to free themselves with magic spells, the Way, and physical blows.

  After watching them for a moment, Rajaat’s skeleton turned around. Sadira had already disappeared with the Lens. The ancient sorcerer stared after her for a moment. Finally, he plucked a cloud from the sky and began to flatten it into a sheet of vaporish skin, walking after Sadira as he worked.

  Rikus pushed himself to the end of his tree and began to kick his legs but quickly realized there was no need. A brisk tide was flowing after Rajaat, carrying the mul and an ever-growing jumble of logs along with it. Rikus tried to raise himself above the debris, searching for a glimpse of what he hoped would be Tithian’s dead body.

  Rikus saw no sign of the king, and soon he could not afford to look. The current was beginning to froth and bang logs against each other. It took all of his strength just to keep his head above water and not lose his grip o
n his makeshift raft.

  As the current carried Tithian out of the shadows, a sharp crack sounded from the roof of the arch. The king ducked under the frothing waters, narrowly escaping before a shower of splinters erupted from his log. The river throbbed with the pulse of the blast, battering his ears with terrible pangs of agony.

  Staying submerged, the king swung under his log and came up on the other side, looking toward the top of the arch. He saw the small figure of a halfling male. The man was peering into the tangle of logs, no doubt searching for Tithian’s body, and at the same time slipping a cone-shaped pellet into the groove of a tiny crossbow.

  Tithian ducked back under the water, knowing from experience how deadly the little crossbows could be. During his short float trip down what had once been Ur Draxa’s processional avenue, he had seen dozens of halflings using the weapons, indiscriminately killing the former residents of the city. They seemed entirely determined to murder every non-halfling in sight.

  Once the king judged the floodwaters had carried him safely out of range, he pulled himself onto his log and gasped for breath. Although he was using the Way to augment his strength, the effort of clinging to the tree in roiling floodwaters was wearing on his old man’s body. If this chase did not end soon, he feared he would be in no condition to steal the Lens back from Sadira.

  Tithian propped himself up on his log and looked ahead. All he could see in front of him was a bizarre, watery city that had once been Ur Draxa. The stern architecture had been replaced by flowing bends and gentle curves, with not a sharp corner in sight. The granite arches and marble buildings were now made of colorful rockstem, while the monuments lining the avenue depicted mild-mannered halflings. Instead of axes and swords, these small heroes held writing quills and vials of peculiar shapes, their placid expressions and serene smiles strangely at odds with the murderous behavior of the bloodthirsty warriors now roaming the canals.

  Finally, Tithian spotted Rajaat’s looming form at the end of the avenue, a walking storm of cerulean clouds. Once again, a crown of lightning crackled around his head, and gales of rain poured from his hands. As Tithian watched, the ancient sorcerer lifted a foot and kicked open the enormous gates. Rajaat ducked beneath the keystone and vanished from the king’s sight. The floodwaters rushed after him, pouring onto the plain beyond.