Fire and Fog cr-5

by Неизвестный

  Claybore would not allow the young mage the opportunity to discover that.

  " I know where the legs are," Lan Martak said. " I can see them as plainly as if they were in this very room. But how do I use them? What gain did Lirory see from obtaining them?"

  " Don' t fret," said Kiska k' Adesina, her hand stroking over his light- brown hair. " You are a master now. The way will open to you when you least expect it."

  Lan turned and looked at the woman. Manic intensity burned within her, no matter how placid her words. He sensed the magics boiling around them and the subtler undercurrents that bound them together. But try as he might, he found no way of separating their destinies, nor did he have an inkling as to why he protected her as he did. He had to believe it was instinct on his part, a hunch that Kiska would be useful in the battle against Claybore.

  But this hardly seemed right. Lan shrugged off the worrisome thoughts.

  Claybore knew how difficult it was for Lan to slay wantonly. Even Kiska' s husband had not been a careless or thoughtless death at his hand. Surepta had murdered Lan' s lover, raped and murdered his halfsister, and had driven him from his home world in disgrace. In spite of all that, the death throes Surepta made as Lan had run him through with a sword had not been satisfactory. No amount of suffering had balanced the cosmic scales for what he had done.

  Lan had been warned by the Resident of the Pit that revenge would turn to ash in his mouth. It had. There had been no thrill of victory over Surepta, no feeling of justice being served. The death had been just that- a death both necessary and sickening to him.

  " You cannot defeat a mage who has such experience, Lan," the woman told him. " Don' t try. Give it up."

  He wanted to strike out, to silence her. But there was no way. To use the Voice only hardened the ties between them. A sudden use of magic- another fire elemental- might kill Kiska, but he couldn' t do that. Not now. The spell died on his lips before being half- formed.

  " I will not allow him those legs," he said firmly.

  " He can' t get to them. Lirory hid them well."

  " I can see them," Lan said tiredly. This wore him down- dealing with Kiska. That was another aspect of the spell. Simply dismissing her as annoying, much like a mosquito buzzing about his head, proved as difficult as killing her. " I am sure Claybore is able to, also. After all, they were once a part of him. The bond between leg and body would be strongest for him."

  " You are tired. Rest. Relax."

  Lan turned from Lirory' s grimoires and sat in the slag rock throne. Energies welled up and bolstered his flagging power. He closed his eyes and wondered if the use of a sudden enough spell wouldn' t kill Kiska and free him.

  He tried and failed.

  Lan ignored Kiska' s constant negative comments and cast forth his senses throughout all of Yerrary, seeking, probing, examining. With ease he found the chamber cradling the legs. They radiated a glow he thought should be obvious to anyone, then realized he looked not with his eyes but with other magical senses.

  Lan rubbed his temples and felt as if he' d burst into tears at any moment. How far he had come. Gone were the simple days of roving through the woods near his home, finding game, living free. Gone, all gone, and in their place came new powers and even weightier burdens and wearisome responsibilities.

  " Lan?" came a familiar voice. He opened his eyes and saw Inyx. For reasons he couldn' t fathom, the sight of Ducasien standing so close beside her sent him into a rage.

  " What is it?" he yelled.

  " We came to see if you needed anything," the woman said, her words turning chilly. " I see you are well enough served."

  " I am."

  Ducasien started to speak. Lan glared at him and the man fell silent, the words jumbled in his throat. This brought a slight sneer to the mage' s lips. This was the way to deal with subordinates- do not allow them to speak unless addressed directly.

  Power flared within and he liked it.

  " Krek says you' ll need help when you meet Claybore." The ravenhaired woman tossed her head and brushed away strands of the lustrous hair. She had bathed, eaten, and rested. In other times Lan would have found her heartrendingly beautiful. Now she was little more than an annoyance, an interruption- another of his servants.

  " The spider is too prissy for his own good," said Lan. " What does he know of the battles to come? They will be ones of magic. There won' t be need for insects."

  " Insects?" Inyx' s eyebrows shot up. She was too shocked to be angry at the man' s words. " Is that all he is to you? A bug?"

  " You know what I meant. What will happen will be between mages. Claybore and myself. We will fight and I will win."

  The throne on which he sat glowed a deeper- hued red and power suffused his body until he felt invincible. How had he ever thought Claybore his equal? Lan Martak was better, unconquerable!

  " Sorry I even mentioned it," Inyx said bitterly. She motioned to Ducasien to accompany her. The man' s hand rested on his throat as he tried to speak. Lan' s laughter followed them from the room. Yes, this definitely was the way to handle servants.

  " You have learned much, Martak," came the formless words inside his head. Lan' s attention snapped to the chamber holding the legs, then slowly circuited the vast interior to the mountain kingdom. He found Claybore some distance away, but that meant nothing. Their magics penetrated rock as well as space and time. Whether they were in the same room or worlds apart, this battle would continue until one of them was defeated.

  " You will not recover your legs, Claybore."

  " What makes you think I want them, worm?" The sorcerer vented a harsh laugh.

  " You want them," said Lan. Already he mounted his ward spells, formed his attacks. The throne energized him and gave a support. Although it looked nothing like the power stone he wore around his neck, the material of the throne served the same purpose. From somewhere on this world it focused the flows needed to transcend mere human capacity.

  " Of course I do. I lied to see how you would respond. What good will they do you, Martak? Let me take them. Perhaps we can come to an accommodation in this."

  " You' re trying to bribe me?"

  Even as Lan formed the words, he parried a magical bolt that would have wrecked entire cities. He parried and returned a bolt no whit less powerful.

  And so went the battle. Each mage probed for the other' s weakness. And neither one found the crucial spot for the final thrusting, the most vulnerable point. Lan called more and more on the throne for power- and felt another attraction.

  " Kiska," he moaned softly. " Come to me. I need you!"

  And Kiska k' Adesina stood beside him while he battled Claybore. Enemies to the death, they held one another like lovers while Lan' s spells sizzled and cracked about their heads. With each spell cast, the fatal attraction grew.

  Lan knew what Claybore did. The other sorcerer played a waiting game. The stalemate improved his position immensely, because Lan bound himself more and more tightly to Kiska with every passing instant.

  " No!" Lan wailed. A brief flash of insight told him he was lost. The ties between Kiska and himself had been forged too strongly. He mentally slipped and allowed Claybore to rob him of the throne. A spell from the gesturing sorcerer caused frost to form. Lan stood and the throne turned to powder behind him.

  " Where does your power come from now, Martak?" asked Claybore. " You are growing weaker, even weaker. Surrender to my will!"

  Lan heard the words, hated the attraction to Kiska k' Adesina- and oddly, grew stronger. Away from Lirory' s throne, new and subtly different power surged through his arteries. He discovered untapped reservoirs within that caused the energy derived from the throne to pale in comparison.

  " You have learned much," congratulated Claybore.

  Lan had learned. No compliment came without its barb.

  Lan jumped back just as Claybore' s shadow hound slashed out at his legs. The beast had sneaked up on him by coming through other dimensions, other worlds. Kiska
hanging on one arm, the hound snapping and clawing at his legs, Lan Martak fought as he' d never fought before.

  " Begone!" he cried, forming a spell that violated space around the shadow hound. The creature puffed! out of existence. Claybore ceased his attack, and Kiska moved from him to hunker down near a low wooden table.

  Stunned at the sudden cessation of all battle, Lan reeled and reached out to support himself. He staggered until he found a wall. Head ringing like a bell, sweat pouring from him in rivers, he panted as if he' d finished running a daylong race.

  " You won!" came Kiska' s words.

  But Lan knew that was false. He had not won. He had lost. Claybore played the game skillfully. He had traded the shadow hound for a strengthened geas binding Kiska to Lan. No matter how he tried now, Lan Martak knew he could never allow himself to be separated from Kiska k' Adesina.

  What would Claybore' s next move be? Lan couldn' t tell, but he knew he' d soon enough discover it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Krek stood to one side watching as Lan Martak battled Claybore. The shadow hound vanished with a pop! and the struggles ceased. All that remained in the chamber was the lingering feeling that, while Claybore had left, he had not been defeated.

  " You won!" cried Kiska k' Adesina. " To defeat a mage with Claybore' s power you must be the greatest who ever lived."

  Krek watched carefully as Lan reacted. The play of emotion on the human' s face bothered the spider. He knew so little about what actually made Lan Martak what he was. The feeling he had, though, was not good. Lan responded to his bitter enemy' s compliments.

  " I haven' t won," said Lan. " He still seeks his legs- and I do not have them. I must get them. I must!"

  Inyx came to stand beside Krek, her hand resting on one of his furry legs.

  " What do you think?" she asked.

  " He will not listen to anything we say," the spider replied. " But he will listen to her."

  " Why?"

  " You humans go about things in ways too bizarre to comment upon," said Krek. " I have often wondered at his tastes."

  " This is different," insisted Inyx.

  Krek said nothing. The dramatic transformation in his friend was not one he liked seeing. The kindness he had witnessed before in Lan Martak now vanished, to be replaced by coldness. The mage was driven by a single- minded determination to destroy Claybore. That wasn' t evil. But the changes occurring in Lan Martak were- especially his inability to force Kiska k' Adesina away.

  " He doesn' t need us," said Ducasien. The man stood close to Inyx and hesitated when he started to put his arm around her waist. Krek saw that the woman was torn between Ducasien and Lan, not willing to commit herself to either one- not fully, not at this moment.

  He shared the dark- haired human' s confusion.

  " He does," said Inyx, but conviction wasn' t in her tone.

  " Ask him."

  Inyx glared at Ducasien, then stormed forward and planted her feet firmly in front of Lan.

  " What can we do to help you defeat Claybore?" she asked.

  The expression on Lan' s face caused even Inyx to take a step back. The contempt written there was withering.

  " I don' t need you," he said. " Your powers are no longer sufficient. Claybore and I fight on a different plane. We battle among the worlds, all along the Cenotaph Road." He smirked when he said, " Only I can defeat him. Not even Terrill was strong enough. I am."

  " Leave us," said Kiska, her tone haughty and her expression as contemptuous as Lan' s.

  " I don' t take orders from you, bitch," snapped Inyx. Her dagger seemed to leap into her hand of its own volition and the warrior woman swung without even realizing she made the effort. The blade struck something substantial in midair.

  Lan' s hand had been raised and his fingers moved in arcane magical patterns.

  " Let me kill her," raged Inyx. " She is destroying you. Listen to this bitch' s words and Claybore will eat your soul!"

  " Claybore doesn' t control her," Lan said. " I do. And I want her by my side. I: I need her." Sweat popped out on his forehead as he spoke and he began shaking as if he had a palsy.

  " Lan Martak," spoke up Krek, " look to yourself. You are the weapon needed to stop Claybore. That much is evident. But you are destroying yourself. Without you, what chance does any of us have?"

  " None," the man said. The strain passed and the contempt returned. " You' re only a spider. And her, she' s not even that." His brown eyes locked on Inyx' s cold blue ones.

  Inyx spun and stormed off. Ducasien glared at Lan and followed the woman. Krek remained behind, emotionally torn in this matter. The spider felt himself at a crossroads and unsure what road to take from this point into the future.

  " You did not say the proper words, Lan Martak," said Krek. " You embarrassed and enraged friend Inyx. That is no way to treat her after her long and loyal- and loving- service."

  " Let her go," said Lan. " She can' t help me any more."

  " And this lumpy female can?" Krek pointed to Kiska.

  Lan said nothing, but the sweat began beading on his forehead once again. The strain he endured had to be tremendous, but his words did nothing to escape the geas.

  " She can," Lan Martak said.

  " She will destroy you. She is destroying you. She is Claybore' s pawn and nothing more. How does she treat you? Why do you allow her to know your strategies, your tactics? If she means so much, place her in safety- somewhere far away."

  " No!"

  " Lan Martak, you are in danger from her."

  " Shut up, you miserable web- hanger. I have more important things to do. I have to find Claybore. Defeat him. He: he can' t recover his legs. And I know where they are. But using them- how do I use them for my own gain?"

  " There are things worse than being conquered by Claybore," said Krek. " Loss of your own self- esteem is one."

  " Get out of here. Let me alone!"

  Krek saw that Lan' s temper rose to a dangerous level. The mage' s fingers twitched and fat blue sparks jumped from one tip to the other. A fiery blast and Krek would be set afire. Krek didn' t know if there was any fate he feared more, unless it was drowning- or losing the friend who had been Lan Martak.

  " When you need help, you can find me with friends Inyx and Ducasien."

  Krek lumbered out of the chamber, leaving Lan and Kiska to their work poring over the grimoires left by Lirory Tefize. Krek had no doubt that, locked within one of those magical tomes, lay the secret of how to use Claybore' s legs against him. He also knew that the mere act of allowing Kiska k' Adesina to watch the search provided Claybore with inestimable advantage. She still worked for the disembodied sorcerer.

  In the hallway Krek overtook Inyx and Ducasien.

  " Where do you go, friend Inyx?" the spider asked.

  " I don' t know," she said, close to tears. " He' s never been this way before. I' ve been with him when he' s bone- tired, halfdead, pushed far beyond the limits of human endurance, and never has Lan acted that way toward me."

  " Forget him, Inyx. Come with me. We can walk the Road together. This isn' t the life for you," Ducasien said earnestly. " What does it matter if Claybore conquers or not? Will things change so much? We can find a backwater world, peaceful, away from the centers of power. He' d never bother us there."

  Krek saw Inyx wavering. The offer tempted her greatly. And it appealed to the spider, also. This continual battling across worlds took its toll on him. He wanted nothing more than to return to his web and his mate, even if dear Klawn might try to eat him.

  " I feel friend Ducasien has made a good case for our doing just as he recommends," said Krek. " Lan Martak is obsessed with victory over Claybore. Is victory such a needful thing?"

  Inyx stared at the spider and slowly shook her head.

  " Lan knows more than we do. He senses the evil Claybore brings more clearly than anyone else can. And we' ve got to support him. I don' t know what' s gotten into him, but we can' t just walk out on him. Not wh
en he needs us more than ever."

  " We have been through much with him," agreed Krek. " The war for the iron tongue resting within his mouth was a costly one." The arachnid stopped speaking for a moment, then added, " Is it possible he is infected by Claybore' s spirit through that tongue?"

  " Who can say? When Lan first used it, he claimed he was more powerful. I think his behavior is sparked by something more than his own abilities. Perhaps it is the tongue' s doing."

  " He certainly isn' t doing it to protect you," said Ducasien.

  " Danger has been at our side ever since we' ve been together," Inyx said. She smiled up at Krek. " He rescued me from the whiteness between worlds. Another would have left me."

  " I wouldn' t have," said Ducasien.

  " Friend Ducasien, you would have been unable to reach her," said Krek. " The magics involved were the most complex Claybore was capable of invoking. Only a mage of Lan Martak' s caliber could have been successful."

  " I' d have died trying," Ducasien maintained.

  " Thank you," said Inyx. " I appreciate that. But Lan did rescue me. And not just that one time. We' ve been through much. Turning away now is difficult, no matter how he acts."

  " Let us go and ponder this further," suggested Krek. " Another course of action might suggest itself." The spider and Inyx started off, Ducasien remaining behind. Krek stopped and twisted in an inhuman fashion to look under and behind his huge body. " Please come with us, friend Ducasien. Your experience will be most valuable."

  Ducasien hesitated, then joined the pair. This time Inyx did not flinch away when Ducasien put his arm around her shoulders. Her own arm circled his waist and off they went, talking in low, confidential tones of what their best strategy might be.

  " It' s got to be here. It must be!" raged Lan Martak. Anger rose and he clapped hands together to form a thunderbolt that almost deafened Kiska k' Adesina. She kept her hands over ears until it was obvious the mage' s wrath had abated slightly.

  " Lirory kept his diaries in code," she said. " The code might take months to decipher."

  " I' ve read his books," said Lan in disgust. " The code depended on a simple magical combination obvious to even an apprentice. The information is not written down."