The wedge continued forward, oblivious to the mul’s command. The sorcerer-king pointed five claws of one hand toward the advancing Tyrians, uttering a spell. Bolts of energy streaked from his fingers, each one arcing into the center of the wedge and burning a hole into the chest of a different gladiator.
Instead of falling, the victims screamed and reached for their injuries, then broke formation and began running about in all directions. As they moved, wisps of yellow smoke poured from their wounds and spread throughout the company. Wherever the fumes passed, gladiators gave strangled cries, then collapsed clutching their throats.
Hamanu looked away from the battle and returned his attention to the gladiators he had been destroying before the wedge had formed.
Rikus closed his eyes, unable to bear the pain of watching Neeva die. He heard several more choking warriors fall, then the Scourge brought Caelum’s voice to him: “To the ground!”
The mul opened his eyes in time to see other survivors do as the dwarf asked. Once the others were out of the way, the men who had been struck by Hamanu’s spell fled the confines of the formation, not wishing to spread the deadly fumes among their fellows.
Caelum thrust an arm toward the sun, and his hand began to glow. From his fingers issued a shimmering mantle of blistering air, which spread outward and covered the gladiators like a blanket. The mantle hung over their heads, the heat rising from it and carrying away the deadly yellow fumes.
As the dwarf saved the lives of his companions, Rikus noticed that Gaanon was slipping along the wall toward him.
Another fool, Tamar commented.
He’ll make it, Rikus insisted, noting that Hamanu had shown no sign of seeing the large gladiator. I’ll soon be back in the fight.
For all the good that will do. It would be wiser to slip away unnoticed.
Abandon my legion?
It will perish with or without you.
After the smoke had cleared, Neeva returned to her feet at the head of a decimated formation, with Caelum at her back and two dozen gladiators scattered among the bodies of their fellows. Rikus guessed that three times as many half-giants remained between the Tyrians and Hamanu.
Neeva stepped forward, carrying the attack to the throng of Urikites crowding the street. The other survivors closed ranks behind her.
“What are you doing?” Rikus whispered, sadly shaking his head. “Can’t you see your plan’s hopeless?”
The first of Hamanu’s half-giants thrust his lance at Neeva. Screaming in anger, she sidestepped it and slipped forward, driving her sword into her attacker’s abdomen. As the dying Urikite stumbled away, another stepped forward and pushed his lance into Neeva’s stomach.
“No!” Rikus hissed.
The stooped half-elf gladiator swung his lance at Neeva’s attacker. The barbed head raked across the Urikite’s face, and the Imperial Guard fell away holding his eye. A moment later, a long spear pierced the half-elf’s throat. He died clutching at the shaft. Rikus saw Neeva pull the shaft from her stomach and turn to attack the half-elf’s killer, then lost sight of her as the rest of the street erupted into a jumbled melee.
Rikus looked toward Gaanon. The half-giant had been forced to stop ten yards shy of the fortress wall. Hamanu had all but eliminated the gladiators fighting him, and was now unknowingly swinging his tail across Gaanon’s route as he faced the last of the brave Tyrians. One of the survivors was K’kriq, who stood with his carapace against the wall, using all four hands to keep one of the sorcerer-king’s claws away from his face.
All at once, the thri-kreen reversed tactics and clawed at his foe’s arms, pulling it toward him. As Hamanu’s massive hand closed around K’kriq’s throat, the mantis-warrior stabbed at the sorcerer-king’s wrist with his poisonous mandibles.
Hamanu roared in laughter. Holding his victim with one hand, he reached down and tore the thri-kreen’s shell away. As pulpy white thorax was exposed, K’kriq screeched in pain. The sorcerer-king studied the strange flesh for a moment, then began ripping it to shreds.
At the far end of the avenue, Jaseela led a company of Urikite slaves from a side gate, and more slaves were emerging from other exits. Some carried swords, spears, bone clubs, or other weapons they had scavenged from the templar quarter, but most were armed with only hammers and rock picks.
As they streamed into the avenue, they ran for the nearest gate in the noble quarter. The aristrocratic armies met them with a hail of arrows and bolts. Rikus cried out as Jaseela clutched at the shaft in her throat and fell. Behind her, the rest of the slaves in the first wave also crumpled to the ground, and soon the cries of the wounded drowned out even the toll of clashing weapons.
It didn’t matter, for the slaves continued to charge from the templar quarter. They soon reached the other side of the street, attacking the noble armies. Unfortunately, the Urikite quarry slaves were poor substitutes for Tyrian gladiators, and they died as quickly as they reached the melee. Nevertheless, they continued to crowd the avenue, and it soon became apparent that the pressure of sheer numbers would force a breach in the nobles’ defenses.
Closer to Rikus, Hamanu discarded K’kriq’s shredded body and look toward the outpouring of slaves. His tail began to swing back and forth more eagerly, smashing into the wall just a few feet away from Gaanon. The half-giant cringed and pressed himself against the yellow mudbricks, trying to remain clear of the dangerous obstacle. The sorcerer-king stepped toward the slave army, simultaneously lifting his mouth toward the sun and belching forth a puff of yellow smoke.
Gaanon slipped away from the wall. But as the half-giant took his first step, the man-lion stopped and glanced over his shoulder. A wicked grin flashed across the sorcerer-king’s lips, and Rikus realized that Hamanu had been toying with Gaanon all along.
The mul started to cry a warning, but the cocoon was too tight. Nothing but a strangled gasp left his lips.
Hamanu’s tail smashed Gaanon in the ribs, though not hard enough to cause serious injury. Cringing, the half-giant looked toward the sorcerer-king, futilely raising his hammer to defend himself.
Instead of attacking physically, Hamanu stared at his prey. A look of terrible pain and fear came over Gaanon, who dropped his weapon and grabbed his head, howling in agony. Blood suddenly began to gush from the half-giant’s nose and ears. He fell to the ground and began rolling about, leaving long red smears on the streets.
Rikus screamed in rage. Ignoring the searing pain it sent shooting through his entire body, the mul tried again to free himself.
Don’t weaken yourself, the wraith said. Wait.
Wait for what? Rikus demanded, fixing his eyes on Hamanu’s back. His lungs were starving for air, and he could feel himself beginning to grow dizzy. He’s only going to kill me.
Perhaps not, Tamar answered. I have summoned help, but even the wraiths cannot move so far in an instant.
It’s too late now, the mul said bitterly. What makes you think I want to live now?
A ball of flame rolled from the tangled melee between Neeva’s company and the Imperial Guard. It passed through the nearest gate. Then, just inside the noble quarter, it erupted in a great spray of crimson fire. Dozens of Urikites voiced their dying screams, and the gateway collapsed into a heap of rubble.
In the next instant, Caelum and Neeva rushed out of the melee and through the smoldering debris, followed by the rest of their small company. Half the gladiators disappeared into the noble quarter, leaving only a dozen warriors behind to act as a rear-guard. A large band of the Imperial Guard quickly pursued, and soon the brutal clamor of battle raged from the shattered gateway.