Fire and Fog cr-5

by Неизвестный

  " You think this is Claybore' s doing?" The hope rising within couldn' t be held down. Inyx wanted to believe the spider.

  " It is a more plausible explanation." Krek fell silent for a moment, then added, " Unless he has indeed become corrupted by the power he wields. I have seen it happen in the Web, of course. A hatchling is promoted too rapidly and assumes great duties of importance."

  " What?" The woman was confused at how Krek had jumped from Lan to spiderish politics.

  " They think respect is due the position rather the individual in that authority spot. Any order they give, no matter how absurd, must therefore be a good one. A sorry state. They become bloated with their own self- importance."

  " What happens then?"

  " We eat them."

  Inyx shivered. Krek' s logical thought processes never failed to give her a pang of cold, gut- clutching fear. He spoke so easily of devouring his comrades.

  " You think this is the way to handle Lan?" she asked.

  " No. Lan Martak is too powerful. He would fry us long before such a course could be carried out. Or drown me. No, he would set fire to me. That is a hideously favorite spell with him." The huge body quaked at the very idea of being turned into a torch.

  " What are we to do? I won' t give him up. Not to the likes of her."

  The spider said nothing.

  Inyx didn' t have any good answer to her own question, either. The best they could do for the moment was sit, wait, and then seize whatever opportunity presented itself. That waiting would be the most difficult she' d ever done, but it had to be done.

  The woman turned and looked at Ducasien and experienced even more confusion. What exactly was it she wanted?

  There seemed no easy answer.

  " I must go," Lan Martak said, rising from the throne. He reached out and gestured with his hand to summon his light mote. It orbited in from the far reaches of the universe, ready for battle.

  " What' s happened?" demanded Kiska k' Adesina. " Claybore' s attacking?"

  " The legs. I go for them. I see how Lirory wanted to use them. It came to me- like so many other things do now."

  " How? How would he have used them?"

  Lan' s gaze turned outward, penetrating stone and changing from physical sight to a scrying with his magical powers. The legs glowed within their individual cases, hidden away in the deepest recesses of Yerrary. Lirory Tefize had hidden them well, but Lirory had lacked Lan' s power. To Lan they were apparent.

  And to Claybore, as well.

  " Like a battery," Lan said, starting off. Kiska trailed behind, clutching at his sleeve. He brushed her off. He started to empower a spell to freeze her to the spot, but it refused to form on his lips. The tongue resting inside his mouth felt cottony rather than metallic every time he began a spell to subdue Kiska.

  " I don' t understand."

  " Lirory intended to place a leg at one corner of this pyramidshaped chamber and the other leg at still another corner. The arms each went into the other corners. Sitting on his throne placed him equidistant from the four limbs. He would draw on the power focused on this special spot." Lan indicated where the throne had been before Claybore destroyed it.

  " But he had the arms and legs. Why didn' t he do this when he had the chance?"

  Lan smiled. Everything was so obvious to him now.

  " He needed one further part. Any bodily part. In the ceiling of the chamber. Placed there, it completed a pyramid of power. I suspect he desired most the Kinetic Sphere, but Claybore had retrieved that." Lan felt a passing bitterness when he realized he had allowed it to fall into Claybore' s hands. " If Lirory had known I had Claybore' s tongue in my mouth, he might have succeeded. Instead, he banished me, thinking the fog outside the mountain would kill me. The tongue would have sufficed as well as the Kinetic Sphere."

  " He didn' t sense the tongue," said Kiska in a hushed voice. She now understood, also.

  " His powers were great, but not great enough. If Lirory had formed the battery of Claybore' s parts, his abilities would have been enhanced to the point not even Claybore could have withstood him."

  Lan laughed aloud now.

  " You can defeat him, can' t you?" asked Kiska.

  Lan didn' t answer. He didn' t have to. The answer, like all else, was obvious.

  " Are you able to wrest the legs from Claybore?" she pressed.

  " Stay here."

  " I have to be at your side," Kiska said, her voice turning shrill with urgency. The brunette forced her way up and next to Lan. He tried once more- in vain- to form the spell to hold her back. " I' ve come too far not to see this through to the end."

  " But you-" Lan couldn' t even say the words he wanted.

  Kiska k' Adesina was Claybore' s commandant. She commanded legions on a score of worlds and had perpetrated crimes so ghastly his mind recoiled thinking of them. Entire cities had died on the world the pair of them had walked prior to coming to Yerrary. Only one city survived- barely- when she and Claybore had finished. Kiska k' Adesina was his sworn enemy and still he not only allowed her to come with him on this most dangerous and vital of missions, but he spoke freely to her of Lirory and of the gnome mage' s discovery, how he himself had come across dozens of small clues and turned them into weapons against her master, and Lan even gave her information which could be turned against him.

  And he loved her.

  An addict dependent on drugs, a mage linked permanently into spell dreams, a man in love. All produced the same result, and Lan Martak found himself caught in the trap. He loved Kiska k' Adesina against reason and sanity.

  " Stay back. This will be dangerous. Lirory Tefize laid traps of subtle and diabolical design."

  They pushed into territory alien to Lan, but he knew it as well as he did the forests on his home world. He saw, not only with eyes but with magic- and burning like a campfire in the night were Claybore' s legs. Locked onto that, Lan couldn' t be turned away.

  " Where you go, I will," said Kiska, but her lips curled back in a sneer that Lan failed to see. Her fingers lightly stroked a dagger hilt. She started to draw the sharp- edged weapon and sink it to the hilt in the mage' s broad back, but something stopped her.

  The sneer turned into a broad smile. Claybore had promised that there would come a proper time for Lan Martak' s death and that it would be at her hand.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  " You can' t go," cried Kiska k' Adesina, gripping at Lan' s sleeve.

  He shrugged her off. Even if he couldn' t use magics against herfor whatever reason- he was still physically stronger. Lan Martak stopped and considered his best course of action concerning her. Was it possible to bind Kiska in such a way she couldn' t follow? He made the effort and failed, not because she tried to elude him, but because his muscles began shaking as if from some huge exertion.

  " Claybore has baited a trap and waits for you," Kiska told him. " You will die if you try to recover the legs."

  " How do you know?" he demanded.

  " It' s all part of Claybore' s master plan. He wants you out of the way. If you rush in foolishly, without planning, without taking enough precautions, then you will be: no more."

  " What do you care?" Lan raged, more at his own impotence in dealing with Kiska than at the woman.

  She didn' t answer. He worried that this failure on his part might carry over into actual dealing with Claybore.

  While it struck him as odd that he had come to be so closely linked emotionally with Kiska, he didn' t question it deeply. Lan' s true worry lay in fighting Claybore. The other mage had eons of experience to draw upon- and Lan couldn' t forget the shadow hound.

  The interdimensional beast had been easily dispatched, but he felt the complexities in the spell conjuring it up. Given the time, Claybore might summon an even more intricate monster, one not easily sent back into the nothingness between worlds.

  The slightest pause, the most minute of hesitations, and he would lose this coming battle.

  And at the cen
ter of it lay Claybore' s legs. Lirory had died to protect his ill- gotten treasure trove of limbs. Lan did not wish to follow that path trying to obtain them for himself.

  Destruction seemed the wisest course. With Claybore in possession of his arms, any chance for completing the magical battery envisioned by Lirory Tefize was at an end. Destroy the legs, destroy them for all time. He had the power to do it- as long as they weren' t attached to Claybore' s body.

  " I know the way is dangerous. That' s why I want you to stay in Lirory' s chamber. It' s safe there. The gnome set ward spells Claybore can circumvent- but only after some effort."

  " I stay with you," Kiska maintained stoutly. Her usually brown eyes took on highlights of green from the moss glowing in the corridor, giving her an evil, alien aspect that disquieted Lan. But was he so human himself? He had come far. The Resident of the Pit and Claybore both admitted he was now immortal, thanks to the powers he had discovered. Inhuman- unhuman.

  And power!

  Currents of raw energy hummed and pulsed within his body. No mere human felt like this. He hadn' t when he was only a hunter in the forests of his home world. He transcended the norm and developed into more- much, much more.

  Lan Martak said nothing as he spun and started through the maze inside Yerrary. The gnomes had spent centuries chewing out these corridors and had created a twisting domain that was as much a part of their heritage as the forests were his. Lan quickly forgot ordinary sight and depended more and more on a magical scrying spell to lead him through the turnings.

  At first he walked with faltering steps, then became more confident and strode with his usual ground- devouring pace. Kiska struggled to keep up with him but said nothing. She would doggedly follow him into the mouth of the Netherworld.

  Lan' s mind quickly turned from figuring out why his bitter enemy showed such devotion now to examining the hall they took. Tiny spots glowed more brilliantly in the walls than could be accounted for from the phosphorescent moss.

  " Traps," he said, pointing. He knew the woman saw nothing. How could she? He was the mage. He had the power. The power!

  Lan moved his light mote into the center of the corridor, then split it in half. Each section of his familiar blazed a fiery path for the spots on the walls. Incandescent heat filled the tiny space the instant the two motes touched stone. The trigger spell released vastly more potent magics.

  " Lirory was a clever sorcerer. The true power is hidden away. Little energy is revealed, might be ignored. But once the trigger is touched, that is the result." He pointed.

  Heat still billowed from the corridor, but the magical maelstrom had spent itself. Walls had turned to slag and the floor was eaten away by the intensity of the heat blast. Lan reunited his light mote, used it to smooth over the floor for Kiska' s benefit, then walked on, alert for more traps.

  And he found them. Subtle ones, obvious ones, traps and spells and mind- confusing paths of all varieties. After a while, it became a game to him and little more. He pitted his wit and magical ability against the now- dead sorcerer gnome. He played the game and won repeatedly. As each obstacle was overcome, he sensed a growing within himself until he could barely withstand it. The pressure of power needing to be used bloated him.

  Once, he had been like Kiska and Inyx and Ducasien and all the others. Once. No longer. He had become more now. And he would strip Claybore of his power and rule along the Cenotaph Road. It was destiny. It was his destiny!

  " The chamber we seek is near," he said.

  Kiska clung to him, barely noticed. Lan Martak moved on for the final confrontation. Claybore could not permit him to enter that chamber unopposed. To do so meant the disembodied sorcerer had lost all.

  A faint smile curled Lan' s lips. This was the moment he had been born for.

  " What!" cried Inyx. " The fool has gone off to destroy the legs without telling us?" She sagged against the wall at the enormity of what Krek told her.

  " So it would seem," the spider said. " Lan Martak has developed a cockiness bordering on overconfidence. Perhaps it is due to his exposure to the fog outside."

  " That' s not it, Krek. There' s more to it," said Ducasien. The tall man stood, hands on narrow hips, his wide shoulders almost filling an entryway. " He thinks he is invincible."

  " He might be," said Inyx in a choked voice. " He might not need us any longer."

  Ducasien laid his hand on the woman' s shoulder, squeezing gently. She smiled wanly, putting her own hand atop his. She barely kept her sanity these days. Loving Lan put a strain on her that became harder and harder. He ignored her- and all his friends- and obviously garnered much from Kiska k' Adesina' s company. Inyx tried to rationalize that this was a ploy on Lan' s part, a way of getting past Claybore' s guard.

  She tried to believe and failed.

  " Inyx," said Ducasien, " we can leave. The trip to the cenotaphs won' t take long. Leave him to his little war."

  " It' s not little, damn it!" she flared. " This spans worlds. There' s nowhere we could go and not confront Claybore if Lan should lose. We began this battle together and we' ll finish it together."

  " Will he accept our help?" asked Krek. " I have been guilty of choosing flight over fight in the past." The arachnid sighed like a fumarole giving vent. " Poor Klawn. Left alone because I ran like a craven from my duty. I ofttimes wonder how my hatchlings turned out. I trust they are brave spiders, one and all. Future Webmasters and mates of other Webmasters."

  " Krek," Inyx said in disgust. " This is no time to reminisce."

  " I was only agreeing with friend Ducasien. Lan Martak has abandoned us. Let us seek out other worlds and allow him to carry this fight to whatever finish he can."

  " That' s not like you," Inyx said, worried.

  " He placed a geas upon me. He told me to leave him alone. I fight the magic and wonder why I bother. Even without the spell he cast upon me, weak as it is, his attitudes do much to drive me away."

  Inyx had no words to answer the spider' s accusation. Lan had done much to drive her away, too. In her mind she pictured vividly the sight of him making love to Kiska by the well holding the Resident of the Pit. He hadn' t known she had followed, but would it have mattered to Lan? She didn' t think so.

  He had changed and not for the better. The power he gained corrupted him, made him brash and abrasive, too independent.

  She snorted at that. How could one be too independent? Her own life had always been lived according to that notion. Now she was no longer so sure. The time with Lan had been magical, and not in terms of mere sorcery. Their bindings had emotional and mental parts mixed in with the physical.

  She still loved him. But it became harder and harder to maintain that love.

  " We help him. We have to," she finally said.

  " Then we need a plan," spoke up Ducasien.

  " This isn' t your fight," she said.

  " If you' re there, I' m making it my fight. Now what do we need to do to prepare ourselves?"

  Inyx tried to wipe away the tears forming before anyone noticed. While she was sure Krek and Ducasien both saw the motion that swiped away the salty tracks, neither mentioned it.

  They called Broit Heresler into their circle and spoke quickly with the gnome. He nodded, smiled as much as he could, then went off with a few battered survivors of his clan to find the weapons needed to help Lan Martak when he finally faced Claybore.

  " Through that arch," Lan Martak said, pointing. His hand glowed a dull purple in response to the ward spell Lirory Tefize had placed on the doorway. " Go through and die."

  " You can take off the spell?" Kiska k' Adesina asked anxiously.

  " It is a multilayered spell," he said, examining it carefully. " Very tricky. And very clever. One small slip and it is all over."

  Kiska tensed, her hands balled to strike out. Lan noticed and she relaxed and let her arms hang limply at her sides. He faced the doorway and began his chants.

  Slowly at first, then with increasing assurance, he peel
ed away the layers of the spells Lirory had wrought. Like onion skins, the spells fell away until only the bare stone archway remained. Lan wiped his sleeve over his forehead. The unlocking had taken more from him than he' d thought possible. An instant of fear flashed through him.

  Was he as powerful as he thought? Did this multiple spell hold traps of which he was unaware? Had he committed too much of his power too soon? Fear chewed at his self- confidence, but he dared not admit it. Not in front of Kiska.

  " Let' s not tarry. We have our destiny lying in wait beyond."

  With more confidence than he felt, he walked forward. Lan' s eyes blinked as he passed under the stone archway. A slight electric tingle of spell had not been driven off, but it was a minor annoyance. He flicked it away as if it were nothing more than a buzzing mosquito.

  He entered the chamber holding Claybore' s legs.

  " There they are!" cried Kiska. " Claybore' s lost limbs."

  Lan restrained her. She tried to bolt forward and seize the beaten copper coffins holding those legs.

  " The exterior protective spells are gone. Others remain. How else could those legs stay preserved?"

  " Claybore is immortal. His parts are, too."

  Lan reeled at the notion. For whatever reason, this had never occurred to him. He studied the twin coffins and saw the spells woven through the fabric of metal and flesh within and knew then that Kiska was right. The spells Lirory had placed on the legs bound them to this time and place; preservation was accomplished on a more fundamental level, one fraught with magics even Lan did not pretend to understand.

  " They can be destroyed," he said, more to maintain the fiction of his superiority than anything else. Showing ignorance in front of Kiska bothered him more than he cared to admit.

  " Of course they can be destroyed," came a voice all too familiar from previous battlings. " You ought to know that my parts are not invincible. After all, my skin was left in a puddle of protoplasm within the Twistings."

  " I wondered when you would come," said Lan, turning to face Claybore. The sorcerer stood under the archway so recently swept clear of its guardian spells.