“Cast your spell,” Rikus snarled. “Before I die, I’ll kill you.”
Caelum did not activate his spell, but neither did he withdraw his hand.
“What’s this all about, Rikus?” Neeva demaded. She stepped from behind the dwarf, being careful to keep her body between the mul and the book. “You promised to return the book to Kemalok!”
“I can’t keep that promise,” the mul explained. As he admitted his failure, a deep sense of shame came over him-though he remained determined to do what he must to save Neeva. “Give me the book.”
“No!” Neeva dropped the slave rope and slipped the tome under her arm, drawing her sword with her free hand. “And if you kill Caelum, you’ll have to kill me, too.”
“Neeva, take the Book of the Kemalok Kings and leave,” said Caelum, his red eyes still fixed on Rikus’s face.
“So you two can kill each other in private,” Neeva scoffed.
“No.”
We are anxious to have the book, Tamar informed Rikus. Neeva will not be harmed-unless the dwarf tries to stop us.
No sooner had the wraith spoken than the old slave backed toward the doorway crying, “Phantoms!”
A dozen gray silhouttes, their eyes glowing with the hues of various gems, rose from the cracks of the floor and encircled Neeva. She cried out in alarm and swung her weapon at the nearest one. The black blade passed through the shadowy form without harming it.
Caelum started to move his hand toward the wraiths, but Rikus pressed the tip of his sword against the dwarf’s throat. “Don’t,” he warned. “You’ll get her killed.”
The dwarf stopped moving, his red eyes flaring in anger. “If she comes to harm-”
“She won’t,” Rikus interrupted. “Unless you cause it.”
Neeva swung her sword through the wraith twice more, then one with glowing yellow eyes held out his hands.
“Give the book to the wraith,” Rikus said.
Neeva hesitated. “I won’t!” She clutched the Book of the Kemalok Kings under her arm.
The wraiths tightened their circle, and the one with yellow eyes slipped forward until its gray hands were almost touching Neeva.
“Give them the book!” Rikus yelled, afraid that his fighting partner would insist on dying before she gave up. “You can’t stop them from taking it-and if you try, you’ll only get killed.” He looked to Caelum. “Tell her!”
The dwarf scowled at Rikus, then nodded. “Let them have it,” he said. “Rikus’s betrayal leaves us no other choice.”
Neeva stared at the yellow-eyed phantom, then reluctantly held out the Book of the Kemalok Kings. As she lowered it into the wraith’s waiting hands, the black tome slowly turned gray and insubstantial. Soon, the book was no more than a shadow.
The wraiths sank back into the flagstones, save for a single blue-eyed phantom that slipped into the narrow space separating Rikus and Caelum. The mul lowered his sword and backed away. What now? he asked. You have the book.
The wraith did not respond. Instead, it slipped its nebulous hand into the festering wound on the mul’s chest. A fiery pain filled the gladiator’s breast. Rikus cried out in agony, then collapsed to his knees as Tamar’s ruby was pulled from his body. The phantom closed its fingers over the gemstone, then sank between the flagstones and disappeared. Rikus remained on the floor gasping for breath.
“Get up, traitor!” Caelum spat, his hand still glowing with the fury of the sun. “Let us finish what we started!”
Rikus lifted its head and looked into the dwarf’s red eyes. Letting the Scourge of Rkard drop from his hands, he said, “You finish it. I have no reason to fight.”
“I have no compunction against killing one who surrenders to me!” Caelum warned. “At the least, my village deserves your death.”
“Then be done with it!” Rikus yelled.
Caelum took a step backward and leveled his hand at Rikus. Before he could utter the word that would cast the spell, the flat of Neeva’s sword blade slapped his forearm and knocked it down.
“I won’t let you kill him, Caelum,” she said, keeping her weapon ready.
“He betrayed his word. My father-”
“I don’t care,” she said, sheathing her sword. “I loved Rikus once, and I won’t-”
“Let him,” Rikus said. He did not know which hurt him more: that Neeva felt he needed protection, or that she no longer loved him. “I’ve lost everything-my legion, my honor, even you,” he said. “I don’t want to live.”
Neeva whirled around and grabbed the mul by the chin. “Did you survive twenty years as a gladiator to throw your life away here?” she demanded, pulling him to his feet. “Maybe it would have been better for you to die in the arena-but don’t you dare do it here, not now.”
She reached down and picked up the Scourge of Rkard. “You may not be much of a general, but you’re still the finest gladiator I’ve ever seen,” she said, holding the sword’s hilt toward him. “Caelum and I could use your help getting Er’Stali back to Kled. Maybe we can still salvage something from this disaster.”
Rikus stared at the sword, feeling almost as ashamed of his despair as he did of betraying the dwarves and losing the legion. Finally, he sighed and took the sword from Neeva’s hand. “Who’s Er’Stali?”
“Er’Stali was translating the Book of the Kemalok Kings for Maetan,” Caelum explained, raising his glowing hands and allowing the fiery color to drain from it. “His knowledge may help repay the loss you have caused.”
Rikus frowned. “Translate?” he asked, thinking of the decades Caelum’s father had spent trying to decipher the language of the ancient kings. “How can he do that?”
“Sorcery,” Neeva answered, looking toward the door into which the old man had disappeared. There was no longer any sign of the sorcerer. She cursed, then started toward the townhouse. “He must have run off. I’ll go after him-”
Rikus caught her by the shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s his decision whether or not to come with us?”
“Er’Stali has read the book. That makes him a part of dwarven history,” Caelum said, starting toward the door. “Kled will treat him like an uhrnomus. He’ll want for nothing.”
“Except his freedom,” Neeva sighed. “It’s his choice. Taking him against his will would make us no different than any other slave-taker.”
Caelum cursed in the guttural tongue of his people, then looked at the ground and shook his head angrily. “I cannot deny you, Neeva,” he said. “But can I at least find him and ask what he wishes?”
“There’s no need for that,” said the old man. He stepped from the doorway, holding his hands out to be unbound. “I choose freedom-with you.”
Rikus cut the old sorcerer free, then Er’Stali led the small party into the labyrinthine streets of the noble quarter. As they made their way toward the city walls, the mul saw that Hamanu’s well-planned counterattacks had not entirely crushed the slave revolt.
The few hundred quarry slaves that had crossed into the noble quarter were taking angry vengeance on their masters. A thick pall of smoke filled the streets, at times reducing visibility to a dozen steps. Even domestic slaves roamed the streets in angry gangs, killing nobles and destroying all they could. Several times the small party had to hide in a looted mansion while a company of the Imperial Guard rushed past, pursuing a mob of rampaging slaves.
Once, the group barely escaped death when they rounded a corner and ran headlong into a noble company. Rikus killed the officer with a quick thrust, then Er’Stali surprised the combatants of both sides by blocking the alley with a magical wall of ice that allowed the companions to make a hasty retreat.
At last, the four reached the outer wall. Here, Rikus was relieved to see that some of Urik’s slaves were fleeing the city. Hundreds were gathering in cheering throngs, waiting their turn to climb the black slave ropes that had been strung over the wall as makeshift ladders. A company of doomed noble retainers battled at the edges of the crowd, having made the mistake of trying to stop the escape. In one spot, several of Hamanu’s half-giants had even fallen, though not without taking dozens of slaves with them.