“Don’t kill him, Rikus!” Agis called.
“Why not?” Rikus demanded, standing.
“He’s not entirely hostile,” the noble responded. “If I can help him, he’ll help us.”
Rikus regarded the thri-kreen cautiously, waiting for Agis to make good on his promise. The mantis-warrior seemed confused for a moment, then glared over the mul’s shoulder and rushed forward with his attention fixed on Agis. Realizing that the noble’s mental contact had done little more than distract the creature, Rikus took advantage of the moment to dart forward and slip to the thri-kreen’s side, where the mantis-warrior would have trouble reaching him with both weapons and mouth.
Seeing Rikus slip into this dangerous position, the mantis-warrior stopped his charge and used two arms to smash the mul into the wall. The blows drove the breath from Rikus’s lungs, filling his torso with a dull, crushing ache. The thri-kreen dropped his whip and lashed out with the claws of a three-fingered hand. The mul barely saved his eye by turning his head away, but the thri-kreen opened a jagged gash down his cheek.
Rikus struck at the beast’s head, releasing the cahulak so he would have the range to reach his target. This time, it was the thri-kreen’s turn to duck, and the weapon passed over the back of the thing’s neck. As it reached the end of its rope, the cahulak circled around and reappeared on the close side of the mantis-warrior’s head. The mul caught the shaft and tugged with all his might, pulling himself onto the thing’s back. He started to call for help, but never got the chance.
The thri-kreen stood upright and smashed him into the ceiling. The mul’s cry ended with a stifled groan. Rikus tried to cry out again, then gave up and settled for merely retaining his hold. The mantis-warrior smashed the mul’s aching back again and again into the ceiling.
Taking advantage of the close combat, Neeva slipped around the corner with battle-axe hefted. Agis grabbed her by the shoulder, preventing her from moving forward.
Rikus yelled, “What do you think you’re-”
The mul hit the ceiling again and his question came to an abrupt halt. Already, his spine felt like it had been cracked in a dozen places and his arms burned with numb weariness.
Agis stepped past Neeva, his hands held out before him and his brown eyes fixed on the thri-kreen’s. All at once, the mantis-warrior stopped smashing Rikus against the ceiling. The beast stared at Agis for a moment, then he dropped his weapons and lay down on the floor. The nobleman continued forward, silently nodding to the mantis-warrior.
“Why’d you stop Neeva?” Rikus demanded, his breath coming in short gasps. “You could have gotten me killed!”
As the mul slipped his cahulak rope off the thri-kreen’s neck, Agis laid a restraining hand on the weapons. “But I didn’t,” he answered, still staring at the mantis-warrior. “The thri-kreen is a slave. Now that I’ve freed his mind from his master’s grip, he’ll help us.”
Rikus looked doubtful and pulled his Cahulaks free of the noble’s grasp.
“C-Comrade,” chattered the mantis-warrior, speaking in the Urikite language. “Help you.”
Because he had been born and raised in the slave pits of a Urikite noble, Rikus understood the mantis-warrior’s words. Nevertheless, he remained suspicious.
“No one arms a thri-kreen slave,” he said. “Especially one that fights this well.”
“The argosy pilot’s been using the Way to control his mind,” Agis explained, gently moving the mul’s weapons away from the thri-kreen. “K’kriq didn’t want to attack us.”
“Kill d-driver, kill Ph-Phatim,” the thri-kreen stammered. “Help you.”
When Rikus still did not agree, Agis said, “I was inside his mind. I’ll vouch for him.”
Rikus reluctantly stepped away from the mantis-warrior. “Okay, fall into line,” he said. In Urikite, he added, “But you do what I say, and no weapons.”
The thri-kreen opened his six-mandibles in a star shaped gesture that could have been a smile. “N-No regret,” he answered, also in Urikite.
The mul faced forward without replying. Normally, he would not have accepted a former enemy into his group, but Agis was a true master of the Way. If he said the thri-kreen could be trusted, Rikus believed him.
The mul led them toward the front of the wagon. As they moved, thick smoke began to roll down the corridor from the rear of the argosy. Within a few moments, they could hardly see the glow balls swinging in their nets, and chunks of burning wood began to drop from the ceiling.
Soon, the small group reached the front cargo hold. The exterior doors had been opened to vent the smoke, and, through the thickening fumes, Rikus saw a dozen Urikites standing guard. After passing a whispered warning to those behind him, the mul charged out of the smoke-filled corridor and hacked down the first guard from behind. Neeva leaped past him with her battle-axe flying, taking down two more. K’kriq rushed past her and, unarmed, killed five more in a flurry of flashing claws and snapping mandibles. The four survivors jumped from the argosy before Agis or Sadira struck a blow.
Rikus cast a nervous glance at the five men K’kriq had stricken down, then peered out of the open cargo door. In the sands to the side and just ahead of the argosy, he saw the waddling driks and their drivers trying to escape his legion. The war-lizards were not faring well. Their low-centered bodies and heavy shells were not suited to speed. The beasts’ sluggishness was compounded by their loads, for the siege engines they carried were made from sun-bleached mekillot bones, as large as trees and twice as heavy.
Already, a dozen driks lay toppled, flapping their heads and roaring helplessly, unable to continue their escape on hamstrung legs. Another dozen beasts had dug into the sand and were trying to defend themselves from the Tyrian warriors.
The mul was shocked to see that there were no Urikite regulars in view. While it was true that the main body of soldiers had been far ahead of the attack, Rikus found it strange they had not returned to join the fight.
K’kriq touched the mul’s shoulder with a bloody claw, then pointed forward. “Kill Phatim, s-stop Urikites,” the thri-kreen said. “No water, no food, no siege missiles.”
Rikus raised a brow, then said, “Lead the way.”
Agis caught the thri-kreen by a sticklike arm. “No,” he said. “We’ll have to find the driver ourselves.”
The mantis-warrior insisted, “M-Me kill Phatim.”
The noble shook his head. “If the pilot sees you, he’ll take over your mind. Stay here and help our warriors destroy the supplies-in case we can’t stop the wagon.”
K’kriq snapped his six mandibles open and closed angrily, then turned and began hacking at the interior cargo door.
Rikus assigned the gladiators to help K’kriq, then led his three companions forward. Although the narrow corridor remained smoke-filled, it was not nearly so murky as the section aft of the cargo door. By the light of the swaying glow balls, the mul could see that, here and there, fumes were seeping through the planks in the ceiling.
The hallway turned toward the center of the wagon, and they came to a pair of bronze-gilded doors, one on each side of the corridor. Both were secured with heavy iron latches.
Rikus motioned at the door on the right. “Neeva, you check that one.”
The woman nodded, then smashed the door open with a single blow of her axe. She stepped into the dark room beyond, Sadira following close behind.
Rikus kicked the other door open, then charged into the room beyond. He found himself standing before a ladder leading up to a small deck overhead. Thick whorls of smoke clouded the air.
“The pilot’s deck,” Agis noted, coughing and rubbing his eyes.
The mul grabbed the ladder and climbed. As he moved higher, a streamer of smoke descended and entwined itself around his neck. Rikus thought nothing of it until the tendril rubbed across his skin like a coarse rope, then abruptly tightened. Instantly, the rush of blood filled the mul’s ears. His eyes felt like they would pop from his head, and he could no longer draw air down his throat.