Troy Denning - Dark Sun - Prism Pentad 04 - Obsidian Oracle

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THE OBSIDIAN ORACLE
TROY DENNING
Dark Sun, Prism Pentad, Book 4
First Printing: June 1993.
Printed in the United States of America.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 92-61089
ISBN: 1-56076-603-4
Scanned, formatted and proofed by Dreamcity
Ebook version 1.0
Release Date: December, 1, 2003
Dedication: For Michael T. Griebling, never forgotten.
Acknowledgements:
Many people contributed to the writing of this book and the creation of the series. I would like to thank you all
Without the efforts of the following people, especially, Athas might never have seen the light of the crimson sun:
Mary Kirchoff and Tim Brown, who shaped the world as much as anyone, Brom, who gave us the look and the feel,
Jim Lowder, for his inspiration aid patience, Lloyd Holden of the AKF Martial Arts Academy in Janesville, WI, for
contributing his expertise to the fight scenes, Andria Hayday, for support and encouragement, and Jim Ward, for
enthusiasm, support, and much more.
PROLOGUE
Out of the corner of her eye, Neeva glimpsed the crimson flash of a sun-spell. Despite the impending victory of
her militia, she felt the cold hand of panic dosing around her heart. The flare had come from the direction of the
Sunbird Gate, which guarded all the hidden treasures of the village-most especially her young son, Rkard.
To her dismay, Neeva was in no position to rush to his aid. She stood atop the mountainous shell of a dead
mekillot, using nothing more than a pair of short swords to fight three men armed with lances and daggers. In the
narrow streets of Kled, her militiamen were mercilessly butchering the raiders who had come to take slaves from
their village. The few invaders who escaped the dwarves' bloody axes were fleeing toward one of the many breaches
in the town wall, opened at the start of the assault by the mighty reptile upon which Neeva now stood. Considering
the speed with which the slavers had struck, the battle was going extremely well, but that did little to cheer the
worried mother.
"Enough of this!" Neeva growled, hurling one of her swords at the nearest attacker.
The steel blade split the man's sternum with a muted crack and sank deep into his chest. The militia commander
did not wait to see him fall. Instead, she dropped to a knee and spun, extending her other leg to its full length. As the
next slaver stepped forward to attack her back, Neeva's ankle smashed into his knee and swept him off his feet. She
continued her spin, slicing the man's throat before he hit the ground. The third slaver's lance came darting for her
breast. She batted the point aside with her free hand, then drove her sword deep into the man's stomach.
Neeva freed her swords from the bodies of the dying slavers, hardly hearing their groans of agony. Her eyes
were already searching the streets for her husband, hoping Caelum had been the one who had cast the sun-spell at the
Sunbird Gate. She found him on the opposite side of the village, too far away to have caused the flash.
Confident that her militia could finish routing the slavers without her direction, Neeva slid down the mekillot
shell. She scrambled over the rubble of several crushed huts, then slipped into a narrow street and ran for the Sunbird
Gate. Twice, she paused to kill panicked raiders who stumbled across her path, but, in her hurry to reach the gate, she
allowed several more to escape.
Fifty yards from her destination, she glimpsed a trio of inixes scurrying down a parallel street, their serpentine
tails whipping from side to side and smashing holes into the stone huts that lined the avenue. The lizards were about
fifteen feet long, with ash-colored scales, stocky legs, and beaks of bone that could bite a woman in two. On the
shoulders of each beast sat a lance-bearing driver, while cargo how-dahs, huge boxes made of sunbleached bone,
were strapped to their backs.
Neeva knew instantly that the slavers had not chosen her village by chance. Whoever had planned the attack
knew of Kled's secret wealth and where to find it, for the howdahs of the first two inixes brimmed over with riches
stolen from behind the Sunbird Gate: bronze armor, steel axes and swords, even the golden crowns of ancient kings.
It crossed the commander's mind that the slave-taking had been nothing more than a diversion for the inix-mounted
thieves, but she quickly rejected that idea. The raiders' losses were too severe to be a mere distraction.
When Neeva saw the contents of the third lizard's howdah, all thoughts of the slavers' motivations slipped from
her mind. Instead of treasure, this beast carried two men. One was a burly human dressed in polished leather, holding
a steel long sword that he had no doubt stolen from Kled's armories. The other, a hateful-looking half-elf with a short
black beard and sharp features, wore a billowing robe and carried no weapon. Instead, he held the struggling form of
a young boy. Although the child was only five years old, he already stood as tall as most dwarves, with a thick-boned
body covered in sinew and muscle. Completely bald, he had a square jaw, angry red eyes, and pointed ears that lay
close to his head.
"Rkard!" Neeva gasped, sprinting down the alley after her son's kidnappers.
She had no need to ask herself why the raiders had taken her son instead of filling the third howdah with more
treasure. The boy was a mul, a human-dwarf crossbreed who would bring a small fortune in any city with a slave
market. Blessed with the powerful frame of his dwarven father and Neeva's human agility, he would be sent to the
gladiatorial pits and cultivated into an arena champion. Having spent her own childhood in the pits, Rkard's mother
knew firsthand the horrors that would await him there.
Neeva reached the end of the alley and leaped the inix's whipping tail. She plunged a short sword through the
scales on the beast's flank and used it to pull herself atop its rear quarters. The lizard roared in pain and tried to whip
its head around to snap at her, but the driver thrust the tip of his lance toward the thing's lidless eye.
"Forward, Slas!" he cried, and the creature continued to scurry down the avenue.
Neeva yelled, "Rkard, be ready!"
The boy stopped struggling and raised one small hand toward the sky. At the same time, the armored raider
leaned out of the howdah, slashing at Neeva's head with his steel sword. She blocked with her free sword, then
circled the blade over the top of her attacker's weapon to disarm him. Unfortunately, the slaver was no stranger to a
fight. He pulled his sword away before she could whip it from his hand.
"What's wrong with you, Frayne?" demanded the half-elf holding Rkard. "Kill the wench!"
"I'm no wench," Neeva growled, gaining her feet. "And that boy will be no one's slave!"
The angry mother pulled her first sword from the inix's flank and launched herself at the howdah. She attacked
with a double chasing pattern, slashing at Frayne's longer weapon with first one blade, then moving forward to slice
at his vulnerable face or throat with the one trailing. The astonished slaver had no choice but to give way, and Neeva
leaped over the howdah's wall with her third series of thrusts.
Frayne stepped forward to take advantage of the temporary lapse in Neeva's attack, thrusting at her abdomen.
She twisted her body in midair and snapped her front foot around to kick the slaver in the head. His blade slipped
harmlessly past her midriff, and he fell against the far side of the howdah, barely raising his weapon in time to block
a down-stroke that would have split his skull.
With the grace of an elven rope-dancer, Neeva landed between Frayne and the half-elf holding Rkard. Her son's
captor, she noted, had slipped one hand into the pocket of his robe, no doubt to retrieve the components of a magical
spell. He was so concerned with Neeva that he did not notice her son's small hand glowing red with the power of the
crimson sun.
Neeva pointed a sword at each of the men's throats. "Let my son go," she said. "He's of no value to dead men-
and rest assured, you won't leave Kled alive."
"I'm afraid that isn't your choice," said the half-elf, withdrawing his hand from his pocket.
Rkard thrust his glowing hand toward his captor's face. Neeva looked away long enough to beat Frayne's guard
down. A red light flashed behind her, then the half-elf screamed in surprise. She glanced back and saw the sorcerer's
hands over his blinded eyes. Then she separated his head from his shoulders with a vicious slash.
By the time Neeva returned her attention to Frayne, the raider's sword was already slicing at her unprotected
knees. She jumped the slash, bringing one of her blades around low and the other high to block the expected
backstroke. To her surprise, the slaver did not follow up his first attack. Instead, he reached up and grabbed the side
of the howdah wall, trying to pull himself to his feet again.
Neeva started to move forward, but the inix suddenly lurched to a halt. "Mother!" cried Rkard.
Neeva glanced over her shoulder and saw her son standing over the sorcerer's headless corpse. The boy was
pointing at the driver, who had left his place on the beast's shoulders to dimb toward the howdah. In the street
beyond him, the other two inixes, whose drivers were paying no attention to the fight, were slipping out of Kled with
their heavy cargoes of dwarven treasure.
Neeva tossed her second weapon to her son. "You know what to do, Rkard."
Not even waiting to see if the boy caught the weapon, Neeva stepped toward Frayne. The slaver had returned to
his feet, a confident sneer on his lips. "A child against a lancer?" he scoffed. "That's as foolish as facing me with a
single short blade."
"Perhaps," Neeva replied.
Although she did not allow it to show on her face, she felt more confident than ever. Frayne was an adept
swordsman, but his comment suggested that like so many who learned to fight outside the arena, his attention was
focused more on his foe's blade than on his foe. When fighting a gladiator, a person could make no greater mistake.
Neeva flipped her sword about in a block-and-attack pattern, moving forward behind the flashing blade as she
knew Frayne expected her to. Determined to keep the advantage of his longer blade, the raider shuffled to the side,
only to have his move blocked when she lunged forward and made a clumsy chop at his ribs. Taking the bait, Frayne
whipped his sword at her head in a brutal backslash.
Neeva threw her legs from beneath herself and wrapped them around the slaver's waist, at the same time falling
to her side. Frayne's blade sailed harmlessly over her head, then she hit the howdah floor and rolled. The sudden
twist swept the raider off his feet. He landed flat on his back with her legs still wrapped around his waist. Neeva sat
up, pinning his sword arm to the floor with one hand and driving the tip of her own blade deep into his gullet.
Neeva turned toward the front of the inix. She saw the tip of a lance coming straight at her head as the driver
leaped into the howdah. Her son picked that moment to rise from his hiding place behind the wall, holding his sword
in front of the slaver's belly. The raider's momentum carried him onto the blade. He screamed in agony and dropped
his lance, burying Rkard beneath his bleeding torso.
Neeva reached out and finished him with a quick chop to the back of the neck, then rose to her knees and rolled
the corpse off her son. The boy lay atop the sorcerer's headless body, covered in blood from head to foot.
"Rkard, are you hurt?" Neeva asked, going to his side.
The boy did not answer. His attention seemed fixed on the floor next to the sorcerer's body.
"Answer me!" Neeva said, pulling the mul into her arms.
"I'm fine, mother," he said, holding his hand up to her face. "Look what I found." Rkard held a square crystal of
blood-smeared olivine.
Neeva took the gem from his hand and wiped it clean. "Where did you get this?"
She had to work hard to keep from sounding angry.
Twice before, when she had still been a citizen of Tyr, she had seen such crystals.
"It fell out of the sorcerer's pocket," Rkard explained. "Can I keep it?"
"I don't think so," she replied.
Neeva held the crystal out at arm's length, and the tiny image of a sharp-featured man appeared inside. He had
a hawkish nose, beady brown eyes, and long auburn hair bound in place by a golden diadem. It was Tithian, the man
who had once owned her.
"Neeva!" he gasped. "How did you come by my gem?"
"I killed your sorcerer," she growled. "You're next."
Tithian frowned doubtfully. "Come now," he replied in a smug voice. "I'm the king of Tyr. That would mean
war." "I doubt it," Neeva scoffed. "After Agis and his council hear you've been taking slaves, they'll want to cut your
heart out themselves."
With that, she closed her fist around the gem, cutting off her magical contact with the figure inside.
Chapter One: The Giant
Agis of Asticles stopped his. mount and wiped the grit from his stinging eyes, certain his vision had betrayed
him. A steady wind rasped across the Bali-can Peninsula, its hot breath bearing long ribbons of loess from the Sea of
Silt's southern estuary. To make matters worse, dusk had settled over the rocky barrens an hour before, leaving the
road ahead swaddled in purple shadows and half-buried in drifts of plum-colored dust.
A short distance ahead, a craggy ridge formed a wall of black rock. It stretched for miles in both directions,
rising so high that Agis had to crane his neck to see the stars glimmering above the summit. To his relief, the caravan
trail did not climb the steep hillside, but entered a narrow canyon slicing directly through the heart of the bluff.
An immense boulder sat in the middle of the trail, blocking the entire gorge. Its shape resembled that of a
seated man, save that it was larger than the gatehouse guarding the entrance to Agis's estate. Batswheeled high over
the monolith's crown, silhouetting themselves against the haze-shrouded moons, and a flock of golden dustgulls
roosted on one shoulder, their forms softened by distance and blowing silt. The nobleman could just make out two
huge males pecking at each other with rapierlike beaks.
As Agis watched, the pecking contest erupted into a true battle. The angry birds rose into the air, slashing at
each other with beaks and talons. The larger gull used his bulk to good advantage, relentlessly driving his foe back
until the bird was trapped against the crag above their roost.
For the second time since Agis had spied it, the boulder shifted, and the noble knew that his eyes had not
deceived him earlier. A massive hand rose from the dark silhouette to slap at the gulls. It caught both birds in its
palm, smashing them against the shadowy crag. The blow landed with a resounding crack that made the ground
tremble and sent runnels of sand cascading off the canyon walls. With a mad chorus of screeching and squawking,
the rest of the flock launched itself into the air and fluttered about in anger, only to return to their roost as soon as the
enormous hand crashed back to the ground.
The noble remained where he was, his kank's carapace quivering beneath him. The insect was twice the size of
a man, with six canelike legs, a jacket of chirinous black armor, and a pair of bristly antennae on its blocky head.
Although the drone's bulbous eyes were so weak it could hardly focus on the ground beneath its mandibles, Agis was
not surprised by its alarm. The beast's drumlike ear membranes would be rumbling painfully from the thunderous
slap that had killed the two gulls.
Agis urged the mount forward by tapping its antennae. "I don't care if that is a giant," he said, keeping his
brown eyes fixed on the bulky form ahead. "We must get past him."
As the kank scurried forward, the details of the hulking silhouette became more clear. The giant's body was
lumpy and stout, covered with gravelly skin and gnarled muscles that resembled nothing quite so much as the crags
of a cliff. Long braids of greasy hair hung from his head, while scattered tufts of coarse bristle sprouted on his chest
and back. The enormous face seemed a peculiar mix of human and rodent, with a sloped forehead, drooping ears, and
a pointed nose ending in two cavernous nostrils. His eyes were set deep beneath his brow. Even under their closed
lids, they bulged out of their sockets. A dozen jagged incisors protruded from beneath his upper lip, while a mosslike
beard dangled from his recessed chin. All in all, Agis found the giant the ugliest individual he had ever set eyes
upon.
Upon reaching the figure's side, the noble halted his drone and dismounted. The entire gorge stank of unwashed
flesh, and each time the giant exhaled, the fetid draught of his breath made Agis gag. The titan sat squarely on the
road, with a massive elbow resting against one wall of the canyon. His feet were pressed against the other.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, Agis yelled, "You're blocking the road!"
The giant's only response was a gusty wheeze that made the noble's long black hair wave.
Agis drew his sword, a magnificent cutlass as ancient as the dry of Tyr, with a basket of etched brass and a
long steel blade engraved with the weapon's history. He stepped forward and gently pushed the tip into the enormous
thigh blocking his way.
A sonorous growl rolled from the giant's throat, then the behemoth lifted his hand. Agis barely had time to
jump away before an enormous palm slammed into the leg he had pricked. The giant scratched his thigh, then his
hand dropped back to the ground. He did not open his eyes.
Agis stepped over to the hand. The palm alone was the size of a large shield, while the fingers were almost as
long as the sword in his hand. The noble took a deep breath and brought the flat of his blade down on the thumb
joint, striking with all his strength.
A surprised bellow echoed off the canyon walls, then the hand shot high into the air. The giant's eyes opened.
He sniffed at his thumb with his cavernous nostrils, then licked the joint with a carpet-sized tongue.
"Pardon me for disturbing you," Agis shouted, prepared to leap away if the giant attacked. "But you're blocking
the road. I must get past."
The giant glared down at Agis. His enormous eyes looked like a pair of moons, white with deep craters of
darkness at the center.
"Fylo sleep," he said in a booming voice. "Go 'round." The giant folded his hands across his stomach and
closed his eyes.
"That just won't do," Agis called.
Fylo ignored him. Within moments, deep snores were rumbling at regular intervals from the giant's mouth,
grating over the noble's eardrums and shaking the entire canyon. Realizing that courtesy would get him nowhere, the
noble sheathed his sword and stepped to his kank's side.
Agis closed his eyes and focused his mind on his nexus, that space where the three energies of the Way-
spiritual, mental, and physical-converged inside his body. He visualized a tingling rope of fire sprouting from this
nexus and running up into his throat, creating a pathway for the mystic power of his being.
When he felt his neck pulsing with energy, Agis opened his mouth and shouted, "Move!"
The word broke over Fylo's sleeping form with the force of a thunderclap, scattering the dustgulls on the giant's
shoulder and reverberating down the canyon in a series of earsplitting barks. The titan sat bolt upright and peered
into the murky canyon, his weak chin hanging slack in bewilderment and fear.
"Go 'way!" he yelled, addressing the receding echoes of Agis's voice. "Fylo strong as wind!"
"There's nobody in the canyon," called Agis, this time yelling in his normal voice. "I'm over here."
The giant looked toward Agis and breathed a sigh of relief, blasting the noble with a gust of foul breath. "Fylo
say go 'round," he snarled. "Tune for sleep."
Agis shook his head. "Not until you let me pass. I'll keep you awake all night if I must."
The giant frowned. "Fylo smash you like bear."
Agis raised his brow. "You mean like a ... Never mind," he said. "It'd be much easier to let me pass. All you
need do is raise your legs so I can lead my kank underneath."
The giant shook his head stubbornly.
Agis reached for his purse. "I'll pay double the normal toll."
"Toll?" Fylo echoed. He tugged at his beard, obviously puzzled by the term.
"To let me pass," Agis said, pulling a coin from his purse. "I'm sure a silver is enough." Holding the
glimmering disk before him, he moved forward until he stood at the giant's side. "Here. Take it."
After Fylo lowered a massive hand, the noble tossed his coin into the center of the palm. The disk disappeared
into the dark ravine of a massive lifeline, and Agis feared the giant would not see it. Fylo seemed accustomed to
handling small objects, however. He licked a fingertip and pressed it onto the silver, then held the disk up to his eye.
"Fylo let you go-for this?"
Agis could not be sure of the giant's tone, but it almost seemed the bribe had insulted him. "If I've offended
you, please forgive me," he said. "But in these circumstances, my assumption is only natural."
The giant considered this for a moment, then scowled. "What us-amp-gin, er, as-shump-ten, er, ass-" Unable to
pronounce the word Agis had used, Fylo rephrased his question. "What d'you mean?"
Agis ran his hand through his long hair, stalling for time. If the dull-witted giant did not already realize that this
was an ideal location to coerce money from travelers, the last thing the noble wanted to do was suggest it to him. "I
mean you don't look very comfortable," Agis said. He pointed toward the open desert behind him. "Why don't you
sleep over there- and let me pass?"
"Fylo not sleep," the giant said, an unexpected air of pride in his voice. He stuck the finger with Agis's coin
into a satchel made from the untanned hides of a half-dozen sheep, then looked down at the noble. "Fylo guard road
for friend."
"What friend?" Agis asked.
Instead of answering, the giant lowered his head to peer more closely at the noble and began whispering to
himself. "Black hair, straight nose, square jaw..." As he listed each feature of Agis's face, he extended a finger as
though he were counting. When his gaze fell on the noble's brow, he frowned. "What color eyes?"
"What does it matter to you?" the noble replied, hoping the moonlight was still pale enough so the giant could
not see that they were brown. Someone had obviously taken pains to be sure Fylo would recognize him-and Agis
suspected that he knew that person's identity. "Does your friend happen to be called Tithian?"
"No!" the giant replied, much too quickly. His eyes darted from side to side, and he pressed his jagged incisors
over his lower lip. "Friend not called Tithian."
The obvious lie made Agis smile, not because the giant's ineptness amused him, but because it confirmed that
he was on the right trail. Seven days ago, Neeva and a small party of dwarves had arrived at his estate, demanding
that Tithian answer for sending slavers to raid their village. The noble had been unable to grant the request, for the
king had mysteriously slipped out of the city a few days before the raid had taken place.
Neeva and the dwarves had declared that they would track the king down themselves, but Agis had insisted that
only a Tyrian should bring the ruler to justice. Given Tithian's popularity in the city, any attempt by Kled to punish
him could easily lead to war. After a contentious argument, they had come to a compromise. Neeva would wait at
Agis's estate while the noble and a dozen other Tyrian agents fanned out to search for their errant king. If they did
not bring the king back within two months, the dwarves were free to take matters into their own hands.
Fortunately, it appeared that Agis would return the king within the allotted time-provided he could get past the
giant. He retreated to his mount, wasting no time pondering how his quarry had discovered that he was being
followed. Tithian was a cautious man who had no doubt left a network of spies to watch his backtrail.
To Fylo, Agis said, "It doesn't matter who your friend is. You've taken my money, and now you must let me
pass."
Fylo made no move to obey. "No," he said. "You Agis."
"What makes you say that?" the noble asked.
A cunning sneer crept across the giant's face. "You look like him."
"There must be a hundred men who look like Agis," the noble replied, tapping his kank's antenna. As the
nervous beast shuffled forward, he added, "Now kindly lift your legs-or return my silver."
Fylo touched the satchel into which he had slipped Agis's coin, then frowned and scratched his head in
indecision. Finally, he shrugged and raised his legs, bracing his feet against the canyon wall.
Agis guided his mount forward. His heart was pounding like a stonecutter's hammer, and a dusty taste had
suddenly filled his mouth. Keeping his hand away from his waterskin only through a conscious exertion of will, the
noble looked straight ahead and ducked under Fylo's knee.
No sooner had he passed beneath it than the giant's second leg dropped to the ground, blocking the way. "Let
Fylo see eyes," the giant said, reaching for the noble.
Agis's hand strayed toward his sword hilt, but he quickly realized that his meager blade could do no more than
slice the tip off an enormous finger. Instead, he allowed the giant's hand to clasp his body.
With surprising gentleness, Fylo lifted him into the air, leaving the noble's trembling kank corralled between
legs as thick as tree boles.
Two dustgulls swooped down to see what the giant had plucked off the ground. They were hideous birds, with
scaly red heads, hooked beaks filled with teeth as sharp as needles, and talons dripping filth and ichor. As the pair
sailed past on their tattered wings, they watched Agis with red, rapacious eyes, clattering their beaks in gluttonous
delight. "Go away," the noble whispered. "There'll be no scraps for you tonight."
After lifting Agis to the height of his own head, Fylo raised his captive into the pale light of Athas's two moons.
The giant bent his head forward, squeezing a platter-sized eye into a squint, and tried to peer beneath the noble's
shadowed brow. Agis closed his eyes and began to summon spiritual energy from his nexus.
The hand tightened, making it difficult for the noble to draw breath. "If Fylo squeeze, head pop off like lion's,"
the giant warned. "Open eyes."
Agis did not obey. Instead, he visualized his own face, though with blue eyes instead of brown, and with dun-
colored hair instead of black.
"Let Fylo see!" the giant insisted.
"If that's what you want."
When Agis complied, he found himself looking into a huge pupil. Immediately, he tried to lock gazes with the
giant, but the distance between Fylo's eyes was so large that he could not look into both of the great orbs at once.
Instead, the noble focused on the closest one. At the same time, he concentrated upon the image inside his mind,
using the Way to make the giant see the effigy instead of his true face.
Scowling in confusion, Fylo crossed his eyes, and Agis knew that his ruse was not working well. He had not
penetrated the giant's intellect deeply, for that required more time, and by then Fylo would know the color of the
noble's eyes. Instead, Agis was using his talents to contact only the part of the giant's mind that controlled his vision.
Apparently, since he could look into only one eye at a time, the titan was seeing a different image in each one.
Fylo turned his face to the side, trying to look at his captive with just one orb. A moment later, he snapped his
head around to study the noble with the other. When Agis smoothly shifted his attention from the first eye to the
second, the giant whipped his head back and forth in an ineffectual attempt to glimpse his prisoner's face without
locking gazes. At last, it became apparent that this would not work, and Fylo gave up, once again fixing both crossed
eyes on his captive.
To Agis's surprise, a broad smile crossed Fylo's lips. "Fylo like seeing games," he said, tightening his grip on
the noble. "Fylo guess little man have brown eyes."
With a sinking feeling, Agis turned his attention inward, replacing the mental effigy of himself with the image
of a rapacious dustgull. A surge of energy rose from the core of his being to give the creature life, then the bird took
on an existence of its own. It became his harbinger, a construct of his thoughts, yet it was detached and able to
function outside his own head.
"Are you certain?" Agis asked, staring into the black depths of the giant's pupil. "Tou'd better look closer and
be sure."
With that, the noble sent his harbinger to attack Fylo's mind. The bird streaked from Agis's eyes into the giant's,
disappearing into what lay beyond.
"What that?" Fylo demanded.
Agis did not answer, concentrating instead on the terrain he had discovered inside the giant's mind. The region
was gray and hazy, with half-formed thoughts whirling past like the wild winds of a silt storm. Once, the noble
glimpsed a giant's fist floating past, blood spurting from between the fingers. Another time he saw a pair of human
legs protruding from a huge mouth, kicking madly as the victim was swallowed whole. As a master of the Way, Agis
had no trouble understanding the significance of the images: the giant was considering ways to kill him. The noble
had to take control quickly, before Fylo turned one of the ideas into a plan of action.
A craggy island drifted into view, with the crisp detail and solid aspect of a memory. Standing atop its sheer
cliffs were six giants, all with humanlike faces. They were hurling boulders off the precipice, shouting, "Go live with
dwarf, ugly!" and "Stay 'way. Fylo scare sheep!"
Agis turned his dustgull after the passing island. If he could seize command of the memory, he could use it for
his own ends and quickly force the giant to release him.
Outside, a blast of hot, fetid air rushed over the noble's face. "Take bird back!" boomed the giant, squeezing so
hard that Agis feared his ribs would snap.
Fylo's demand surprised the noble. As a seasoned practitioner of the Way, he was well-versed at slipping into
the thoughts of others. That the giant even understood that his mind had been invaded suggested he had an innate
talent, for there could be no doubt that he was too dim-witted to have mastered the art through the normal avenues-
rigorous study and discipline.
"Don't kill me, or the bird will stay in your head," Agis bluffed, barely able to gasp out the words.
Fylo's grip did not grow any tighter, but neither did it slacken. "Stop, and Fylo not hurt you." The giant's voice
seemed at once determined and a little anxious.
"Not until you let me go," Agis countered.
Even as he spoke, the noble continued to guide his harbinger toward the island inside the giant's mind. As soon
as the dustgull's talons touched the rocky summit, the six giants who had been hurling boulders over the cliff turned
around. They launched a barrage of rocks at the bird's featherless head, crying "Go 'way, ugly bird!"
Agis summoned more spiritual energy, and visualized his dustgull changing into a mekillot. As the boulders
began their descent, the bird grew a hundred times larger, its feathered wings changing to a bony carapace and its
hooked beak into a blunt-nosed snout full of sharp teeth. The rocks struck the hulking lizard with a tremendous
clatter, bouncing harmlessly off its shell and disappearing over the cliff.
At first, the noble feared that his foe had taken control of the memories, but he soon realized that they were
acting on their own. Behind the six giants, a hairless rodent crawled over the rocky edge of the cliff. The beast had
squat legs ending in curled claws, with loose folds of scaly hide and a ridge of bony plates protecting its back. Only
the head did not seem particularly vicious, for beneath its squarish ears were Fylo's bulging eyes and wispy beard.
The rodent construct rushed Agis's mekillot, but two giants seized its tail as it passed, bringing the beast to an
instant halt. It straggled to continue forward, its curled daws clattering on the stony ground.
"Fylo not make good tembo," scoffed one of the giants, dragging the rodent backward. "His face too ugly!"
Taking advantage of the distraction, Agis moved forward, away from the cliff edge. The four giants who were
not busy with Fylo charged. The noble stopped his harbinger, then waited until they reached him before lashing out.
He snagged one in his bill-shaped mouth and, with a flick of the lizard's head, snapped the victim's back.
His attack did not even slow the other giants. The remaining three slammed into, the mekillot's flank and
shoved it toward the cliff edge, angrily shouting, "Go 'way, stupid lizard!"
The noble tried to counter, dropping the crippled giant in his construct's mouth and planting the beast's huge
legs firmly on the rocky ground. He pushed back with all his unimaginable strength, but the effort was to no avail.
Slowly, inexorably, the giants drove the behemoth toward the precipice.
On the other side of the rocky summit, Fylo was faring no better. The two giants that had grasped his tail were
dragging him away, laughing cruelly and saying, "Fylo too stupid to be tembo-too weak!"
As his foes pushed him to within a few yards of the cliff edge, Agis visualized the top of the crag turning to a
dustsink, leaving only a narrow rim of rock around the outer edge. A terrific swell of energy coursed through his
body, then the stony ground of the summit dissolved into a powdery muck. The memory giants cried out in surprise,
as did Fylo, and they all tried to leap for the solid ground ringing the pit. The agitation only caused the surface to
become even less firm, and they sank to their waists almost immediately.
Although the mekillot's stubby legs disappeared into the muck as quickly as those of the giants, Agis was
prepared for the surprise and began to change form instantly. His construct's shell, already half-submerged, was
replaced by oily black scales. The bulk faded from his torso, until his body became slender and ribbonlike, with a
wedge-shaped head at one end and a ridge of spiked fins running along the serpentine spine.
As Fylo and the giants continued to sink, Agis's eel slithered across the dust to the rocky rim, coiling up on the
solid ground just in time to see the heads of his foes vanishing into the mire. The noble allowed himself a deep sigh,
confident that he had won the battle. His efforts had tired him terribly, but he still had enough strength to take control
of the island.
Outside the giant's mind, a horrible groan rumbled through the canyon, then Fylo's grip loosened, and Agis
nearly slipped from his captor's grasp. The noble saved himself from a long fall only by throwing his arms over the
giant's trembling finger.
"Release me," Agis said, looking into a bloodshot eye. "Now that I've captured one memory, it's only a matter
of time before I control your whole mind. All I have to do is shape the island into your image, and-"
"No," Fylo hissed, his lips quivering with fatigue.
"You can't win," the noble said. "Losing a harbinger isn't so different from losing a limb-save that it's spiritual
energy instead of blood gushing from the wound. You can't fight me any longer."
"Fylo not done!" the giant roared.
Inside Fylo's head, the dustsink began to churn and froth. Agis slipped his eel over to the edge of the pond.
Never before had he seen a foe create a new mental guardian after the first had been destroyed, but he feared Fylo
was doing exactly that.
The noble summoned the energy to meet the attack, but it flowed slowly from his spiritual nexus, for the battle
so far had been a tiring one. Before he was ready to change the pool back to stone, a pair of huge daws shot from the
dust and locked onto his eel. Agis tried to writhe free, but the more he struggled, the more deeply the pincers' barbs
impaled him. Finally, he stopped squirming and allowed himself to be lifted off the ground.
As Fylo's new construct crawled from the dustsink, Agis saw that it faintly resembled a mammoth dune-crab.
Instead of four eyestalks, however, only Fylo's head protruded from the top of its biscuit-shaped shell.
"Agis lose," proclaimed the crab, his pincers tightening on the noble's eel.
"Then we both lose!"
Agis whipped his head around and clasped his mouth on his captor's neck. As the barbed pincers sliced through
his body, his eel's teeth tore into the throat of Fylo's construct. His mouth filled with the taste of blood, then his body
exploded with pain. The sound of his own screaming filled his ears and everything went white.
It took Agis several moments to realize that he had not died. Even then, he felt disoriented and sick, unsure of
whether he had returned to consciousness inside Fylo's mind or outside it. His entire body ached with a fierce,
stinging pain, and his stomach ached with a queasy emptiness, as if part of it had been removed.
Slowly, as Agis regained his senses, he realized that he was lying in Fylo's open palm. The nobleman rose to
his knees, intending to run for his kank-until he realized that the beast was far below. The giant's hand rested upon
his mountainous knee, high above the ground. Agis turned toward Fylo's face and found the giant's haggard eyes
watching him.
"Fylo hurt," the giant commented.
"Agis, too," the noble admitted. "And we're going to keep hurting. It'll take days to recover from our losses."
Fylo groaned at the unwelcome news. "Then why Agis attack?" he asked.
"Because I must catch your friend Tithian."
"Not Tith-"
Agis raised his hand to stop the giant. "There's no use pretending," he said. "You know I'm Agis of Asticles,
and I know who hired you to kill me."
The giant considered this point for a moment, then lifted Agis closer to his face. "Okay. But Tithian not say kill
Agis," he said. "Only stop."
"You can't expect me to believe that," Agis scoffed, using the giant's thumb to steady himself as he rose
unsteadily to his feet. "The king's not the type to balk at murder."
"Fylo tell truth," said the giant. "Tithian say 'stop friend Agis, but don't hurt. Protect!"
"Protect me from what?" Agis asked.
Fylo's demeanor suggested that he was being honest about his instructions, which only puzzled the noble. Once
before, when Agis had become involved in the rebellion against Tyr's previous ruler, Tithian had used his influence
to protect his old friend. But that had been many years ago, before the noble had assumed leadership of the Council
of Advisors and become the king's most effective political enemy.
After considering Agis's question for a moment, the giant shrugged. "Fylo forget why Tithian want you
protected."
"Fylo never knew, because Tithian didn't say," Agis said. "He's not protecting me. He's trying to keep me from
catching him."
"Only 'cause Tithian go dangerous place," Fylo insisted.
Agis raised his brow at this comment. "What dangerous place?"
"Balic," answered the giant. "Now you stay with Fylo till he come back?"
Tithian isn't coming back," said Agis.
"Tithian promise," Fylo growled. The giant closed his ringers and grasped his captive tightly. "And Fylo
promise to keep Agis here."
"It's right to want to keep your promise, but don't think Tithian will do the same," said Agis. "Whatever he
offered you-"
"Fylo not for sale!" the giant boomed, squeezing Agis so hard that the air rushed from his lungs. "Tithian
friend!"
The heated response gave the noble pause. From the cruel comments floating around in Fylo's memory, it
seemed likely that the ugly fellow had led a lonely life. Tithian, as adept at exploiting emotions as anyone Agis
knew, had no doubt sensed this and cynically extended his friendship to the lonesome giant.
"Once, I thought Tithian was my friend," Agis said, laboring against Fylo's tight grip to draw breath. "But ifs
not true. Tithian has no friends."
"Me!" bellowed the giant. "Fylo Tithian's friend."
Agis shook his head. "No-Fylo is Tithian's pawn," the noble said. "And after you've done his will, he'll never
trouble himself over you again."
"Liar!" Fylo screamed. Tithian come back soon!"
"Poor Fylo. Your loneliness has blinded you," Agis said. The noble gasped as his captor's fist tightened, then he
added, "I can prove what I say."
Fylo relaxed his grip. "How?"
"I've known Tithian since we were boys," Agis said. "I'll let you send your harbinger into my mind, and you
can see what he's like for yourself."
"No," the giant replied. "This trap to hurt Fylo."
"We're both too tired for another thought-fight," Agis said, shaking his head. "Besides, by letting you inside my
mind, I'm taking the greater risk. If you think it's a trap, all you have to do is withdraw."
As he spoke, Agis pictured a vast, deserted plaza inside his mind, trying to create an open terrain where the
giant would not be concerned about ambushes.
Fylo studied Agis for a moment, then the giant's harbinger appeared inside the noble's mind. It had a flat, disk-
shaped body that undulated like a cloth in the wind, with a long tail that ended in a sharp point The thing's mouth
was on the underside of its body, while there were a dozen eyes spread along the rim of the top side.
Waving its flexible body like a pair of wings, Fylo's construct began to fly over the vast plaza inside Agis's
mind. "Where Tithian?" the harbinger demanded.
Agis summoned his memory of the king. A foul, brown liquid seeped up from between several cobblestones.
The stain formed itself into the shape of a man, then Tithian's gaunt visage appeared on the head. The face was not so
different from that of the feel Agis had created earlier, with bony cheeks, a slender hooked nose, and a small
puckered mouth. The eyes were beady and brown, at once wary and probing.
As the giant's strange harbinger glided down toward the memory, Tithian's image solidified into the full form
of a man's thin body, then stood. Fylo stopped his descent just out of arm's reach and slowly circled the figure.
"That look like Tithian," the giant said, pointing his harbinger's slender tail at the memory. "But maybe you
make him lie to Fylo."
"No," the noble said. "I'll release him. You can take control of the memory. That way, you can examine him as
carefully as you want, and you'll know that I'm not interfering." When Fylo continued to circle without responding,
Agis pressed, "If you're afraid of what you'll discover, Tithian can't truly be your friend."
"Fylo not afraid. Let go."
Agis created a small falcon from one of the figure's hands. After transferring his own consciousness into it, he
fluttered off and landed a short distance away.
Fylo descended on Tithian's figure, completely engulfing it. The harbinger began to pulsate as he examined the
memory, apparently confirming that Agis had truly yielded control of it. Several moments later, the giant finally
seemed satisfied. He unfurled his harbinger and let it dissolve, transferring his consciousness into Tithian's form. ' As
Agis watched, Tithian became a young boy of no more than six or seven, with short-cropped auburn hair. His
squarish ears stuck out from the sides of his head like half-opened hinges, and his hawkish nose seemed much too
large for his small head. He had one hand raised as if an adult were holding it.
"This is Agis," said a man's voice, which the noble dimly recognized as that of Tithian's father. "You and he are
going to be friends."
Young Tithian ran his eyes up and down, as if inspecting a doll, then he scowled. "Father, if you can't afford
the best, I don't want a friend."
The image aged a decade. Now, Tithian was a young man, with a somber brow that always seemed furrowed in
anger, wearing his hair in a long braided tail. He was dressed in the gray robe that he and Agis had worn as novices
when they had studied the Way at the same academy. His eyes were glazed with exhaustion and pain from a
particularly rigorous lesson with their master.
"I don't know what happened, Agis," said Tithian. "When the agony became more than I could bear, I thought
of how well you were doing. Then my pain just vanished. Honestly, I didn't know I was transferring it to you!"
Again the image aged, this time only a couple of years. Tithian was wearing the red robe of a midlevel student.
In his hand was a spiny faro branch, a symbol of passage to denote that he had succeeded at an important test of his
abilities. "You're my best friend, Agis. Of course I shifted some of my pain to you," he said. "Besides, it's not really
cheating. After all, we didn't get caught."
The image continued to age, showing a constant stream of the king's earlier years. Tithian appeared in the black
cassock of a king's templar, denying that he had been responsible for the murder of his own brother. Later, wearing
the gilded robes of a high templar, he came to Agis's estate under the pretext of friendship-only to confiscate the
noble's strongest field slaves. Another time, Tithian admitted, without any trace of shame, that he had been using
Agis's most trusted servant to spy upon the noble.
After this last scene, Fylo separated from the figure of Tithian, forming a new construct that resembled his own
body. "No!" he bellowed, swinging a huge fist at the object of his anger. "Tithian liar!"
The blow knocked the king's image to the ground. Fylo began to kick and trample it, apparently determined to
destroy the memory altogether.
"Wait!" Agis cried, through his construct's break. "I need that!"
Still in the form of a falcon, Agis quickly returned to the king's figure and merged with it. He allowed Tithian
to melt into the cracks between the cobblestones, then raised another construct shaped like himself.
"Do you believe me now, Fylo?"
The giant did not answer. Instead, his harbinger turned away and began to walk across the deserted plaza. With
each step, he grew more translucent, and vanished completely after a dozen paces.
Agis barely had time to turn his attention outward before he felt himself being plunked onto his kank's. back.
"Go!" boomed the giant, raising his legs to let the noble pass. "Leave Fylo alone."
Agis urged his mount forward. Once he was safely out of reach, he stopped and looked back. "Fylo, don't be so
glum," he called. "Tithian's fellowship was false, but you have a good heart. Someday you'll find a true friend."
"No," the giant replied. He gestured at his homely face. "Fylo half-breed. Too ugly for father's tribe, too dumb
for mother's tribe."
"You may not be handsome, but I'd say you're far from dumb," said Agis. "You recognized your mistake with
Tithian. That's pretty smart."
This seemed to cheer the giant. A thoughtful look came over his face, then he fixed his eyes on the noble.
摘要：

THEOBSIDIANORACLETROYDENNINGDarkSun,PrismPentad,Book4FirstPrinting:June1993.PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica.LibraryofCongressCatalogCardNumber92-61089ISBN:1-56076-603-4Scanned,formattedandproofedbyDreamcityEbookversion1.0ReleaseDate:December,1,2003Dedication:ForMichaelT.Griebling,neverforgotten.Ac...

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