by Неизвестный
He turned back to the small box on the table. Lan " felt" the identical sensation he associated with a cenotaph opening. The inside of the box glowed a faint blue. As he and Krek were taken out, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a fleshless skull he remembered all too well. Alberto Silvain had contacted Claybore once more.
" So big. This one' s so big. I can hardly touch his body. Look." The Lord of the Twistings jumped as high as he could. His fingers stopped just short of Krek' s abdomen.
Krek shifted uneasily, weight rocking from side to side. He wasn' t used to anyone trying to touch him.
The Lord cavorted about, doing his somersaults and scramblings on the glassy, slick inlaid tile floor. He rolled to a sitting position and smiled ingenuously at his captives.
" You look so upset. Don' t be. I' m very nice. I' m very nice to everyone. Ask all my friends."
" What about Inyx?"
" Inyx? I don' t know her. No, I haven' t heard the name."
" You' re lying," said Lan, barely keeping his anger under control. The Lord took him for a fool by playing the fool. He' d seen this man' s campaign speech on the giant screen. There hadn' t been any trace of a buffoon then. Now he acted like a man missing the grey stuff between his ears. " You sent her into the Twistings."
" I did? Oh, perhaps I did. Was she the one who did so marvelously well in my tiny little mazes? The mazes in my playroom?" The Lord stared at Silvain.
" Yes, Lord, she is the one."
" Such a bright girl. So smart. She worked her way through my little maze in no time at all. That' s why I have a new maze. Do come and look at it."
Lan and Krek had no choice. The guards surrounding them made sure of that. Lan looked about in surprise when he entered the Lord' s " playroom." Head- tall mazes lined the walls. They reeked of magic, those transparent walled mazes. He reeled under the impact. Whatever spells had been used to form the mazes, they were potent ones.
" You have a little of the magic yourself, don' t you?" the Lord asked shrewdly. " Perhaps the girl had it, too. Perhaps that' s why she so easily escaped. But not even she could find her way out of this one. It' s special," he said in a low, confidential voice.
" Special in what way?" Lan asked.
" I' ll show you!" Like a small child with a new birthday toy, the Lord clapped his hands and bounced up and down excitedly. " You. Into the maze."
The soldier stared aghast when the Lord of the Twistings pointed at him. He pulled out his cylinder in a reflex action when several mechanicals moved in to seize him. The human fired twice and two of the mechs vaporized, leaving behind little more than rubble and the sharp tang of metallic gas. The others, however, closed from behind, grabbed the man' s arms, and hoisted him off his feet. Kicking and shouting curses, he was tossed onto the top of the transparent box.
Lan felt the magics begin their work. The man sank slowly through the top, seemed to fall into an infinite well. Diminishing in size until he appeared little more than six inches tall, the guard clung frantically to his death tube. When he smashed into the floor inside the maze, Lan began to understand the spells used. He might not counter them, but he knew how the Lord of the Twistings accomplished them.
" Yes," said the Lord, watching Lan rather than the man in the maze. " An interesting experiment, this one. Look, witness, learn!"
Inside the maze the guard fired his death tube in vain. The energies began to wane. Soon the cylinder hung useless in the guard' s hand. Then began the real torment. At every turn, the man screamed in silent agony. His flesh began boiling and blistering. His eyes exploded as if someone had stepped on them. He bent and twisted as bones broke. Lan felt his gorge rising as he saw the anguish the man underwent.
" Stop it," he said in a low voice. " Why are you doing this to him? He didn' t do a thing to you."
" Don' t you like it?" The Lord pouted. " And I worked so hard, I really did work hard, on this. Why, I' ve got the only plans for releasing someone from this maze. Do you want to know a secret?" The Lord bent closer in a conspiratorial fashion. " He' ll live forever. Yes, he' ll live forever unless I say the right words."
" Like that?" Lan fought to keep from vomiting. The man inside the maze underwent continual tortures no human should ever face.
" Like that. Forever. Only I can release him- in a very special way."
" Do it. Do it, damn you, do it!" Lan shouted.
" Beg some more. I like it. I really do like it."
Krek roared and surged to his full height. Mighty legs driving, he sent mechanicals and human guards scattering like so many toy soldiers. His serrated mandibles clacked ferociously as he attacked the side of the maze. But even his razor- sharp mandibles failed to scratch the surface of the maze.
" Oh, this is so much fun!" chortled the Lord. " So much fun. I do enjoy you both so. In fact, I enjoy you both so much, I' ll give you one wish."
" Release the guard," said Lan without hesitation.
" Done." The Lord of the Twistings closed his eyes, murmured a soft chant, then gazed into the maze. Lan recoiled when he saw twin beams of ruby light blaze forth from the man' s eyes. Claybore wasn' t the only one controlling that spell, it was now obvious. The dual beacons of death slid past the barrier, into the maze, and washed across the man' s minuscule form. He stiffened, tossed fleshless hands into the air, then sifted down into a pile of black ash.
" He' s free."
" I meant for you to release him."
" Oh, you don' t understand. There is no escaping this maze. Once inside, there' s no way out. Unless you have the plans." The Lord of the Twistings sniggered as if he' d told the most bawdy joke ever. He clutched the small blue book containing the plans to his chest as he rolled over and over on the floor.
" Is death so funny?" grumbled Krek.
" No, but you two are. You could have asked for your own freedom. Now you must stand trial. Yes, that' s it. You must stand trial!"
" Lord, this is a farce. Do away with them now," snapped Silvain. " Allow me to handle this."
" You would deprive me of my fun? Never!" The Lord kicked out and sprang to his feet, his hands never touching the floor. In spite of himself, Lan marvelled at the man' s agility. Still, what else did the Lord of the Twistings have to do day in and day out but practice his gymnastic tumbling?
" Lord," began Silvain.
" Silence! To the audience chamber. We shall hold the trial immediately."
Krek and Lan Martak stood off to one side, out of the way. The Lord of the Twistings dominated the proceedings, standing dressed in his regal uniform of state. He paced on an elevated stage where every angle was covered by one of the cameras.
" Record it all, yes, record, record, record!" the Lord said to his mechanicals. " If this proves as interesting as I think, it shall be used in the campaign. The electorate will love it. Yes, they' ll simply lap it up."
" Silvain," called out Lan. The commandant turned a sour expression toward him. " What' s going on?"
" He plays still another of his games," came the sullen answer. Alberto Silvain barely held his temper in check. " It matters little. You will be dead. The only question is when."
" On stage. All the jurors on stage." The Lord clapped his hands. For a moment, Lan didn' t understand. The creatures parading onto the stage weren' t human- or at least most of them weren' t. The mechanicals were decked out in black ribbons tied securely around their throats. The two humans had on little more. There was a third type that Lan identified- a combination of mechanical and human. One had a human torso with mechanical arms and legs, while another had the reverse. Somehow, seeing a metallic body with human arms unnerved Lan.
" Similar to the mechanical contrivance Claybore used to transport his skull from place to place," observed Krek.
Lan glanced at his friend. The spider sat unconcernedly amid the tangle of his eight legs. His head bobbed slightly from side to side, but other than this he displayed no outward emotion.
" They' re going to order us killed
," he told Krek. " Doesn' t that worry you?"
" You are learning spells from the grimoire," answered the spider. " You will think of some way of disabling the mechanicals. We can deal with Silvain' s troops easily enough then."
" I' m pleased with your confidence in me." Lan frowned and began sorting through the spells he knew, trying to decide which was the most effective. But the harder he thought, the more difficult it became. The bizarre congregation on stage stood to one side, making shuffling motions and slapping one another on the back. The metallic clangs as one mech slapped another rang throughout the room and robbed Lan of the needed quiet to formulate his spells. He had no doubt that a master mage worked well in any environment.
He was far from being a journeyman, much less a master.
" Know all here that the Lord of the Twistings calls for justice!"
" Who cares about justice?" muttered Silvain. " I wanted an execution."
" The crime I spoke of earlier continues to run rampant. To show my desire for justice, I have assembled this panel of jurors to find the defendants guilty of their crimes."
" What crimes?" shouted Lan. " We' ve done nothing but oppose Claybore and his attempts to subjugate your world."
The Lord went on as if he hadn' t heard the outbreak. Lan had to admit that it might have been possible. The man worked himself up into a frenzy. When on stage, in front of the cameras recording this for the voters, the Lord became a different person. He had energy, verve, a drive that vanished when he was left to his own devices. Nothing of his sadism showed now. He was the consummate actor playing a lead role.
" Bring the prisoners forward so that all can look upon them and know their villainy."
Mechanicals prodded the pair on stage;
" How say the jury in this matter?" cried the Lord. " Are they guilty as charged?"
One of the hybrids moved forward. His mechanical arm toyed with the black ribbon around his throat as if this might become a noose at any moment.
" Guilty, Lord. Guilty on all charges."
The Lord of the Twistings turned and stared directly into the camera. His face became a stern father- figure mask. He shook his head sadly, as if what he had to do caused him great anguish.
" Guilty. I must sentence them to the maximum penalty allowed."
Lan started to protest, but Krek brushed a furred leg against his arm, silencing him. The man knew that speaking now solved nothing. This hadn' t been a trial in any sense. It was a public spectacle, nothing more. To speak up only gave the Lord further exposure.
" Death!" Alberto Silvain lithely jumped onto the stage, drawing forth his death tube. " Allow me to carry out your wise sentence immediately, Lord."
" Silence!" The command froze Silvain in his tracks. " Death is richly deserved for what these two have done. But the Lord of the Twistings is not merciful, will not allow simple death to end it all for them. I protect the people of Dicca, of the entire world! Their punishment must fit the crime."
Lan closed his eyes and swallowed hard. In his mind he heard the crowds cheering and chanting, " The Twistings! The Twistings!"
Only deathly silence filled the audience chamber.
" I sentence them to the: Twistings!" The last word hissed as the Lord said it.
" I protest, Lord," bellowed Silvain. " Death. Let me mete out your just punishment of death!"
" Touch that tube of yours and you shall join them, Commandant. You' d like that, wouldn' t you? Yes, you would. You could obey your master' s orders so much more easily that way."
Lan and Krek exchanged glances. Whatever Claybore wanted on this planet- whatever Silvain had been entrusted to recover- lay inside the Twistings.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
" Looks the same as it did on the screen, doesn' t it?" Lan commented. The vault door leading into the Twistings had been depicted accurately when Inyx had been cast forth.
" We shall be able to rejoin Inyx," said Krek. " If we are allowed to live that long."
Lan walked down the corridor toward the huge vault door. His mind lovingly shaped the spell he needed to turn aside the death blast from Silvain' s weapon. The commandant had been fingering the device all the way down from the audience chamber. While he had outwardly agreed to the Lord' s exiling them into the Twistings, Lan knew better. Claybore had ordered their deaths; Alberto Silvain would obey.
" Cast the criminals into the Twistings," came the ringing order. Lan turned and saw the Lord standing on a rolling platform pulled by a pair of the juror mechanicals. He' d simply fastened the black ribbons around their necks to the platform. They pulled him the way horses pull carts.
The silver door swung open silently. Beyond lay the simple unadorned room. Sulfurous smells boiled forth. Lan felt the tensions mounting. Silvain had to act soon.
He and Krek were nudged forward by the Lord' s mechanical guards. None of Silvain' s human troops had been allowed this far.
" Now!" barked Silvain.
Lan' s mind reached out, used the spell, strove to deflect the beam from the death tube. Instead of finding the death beam, a heavy metal fist struck him squarely in the stomach. The air gusted from his lungs. He doubled over and fought to keep from blacking out. He looked up to see the mechanicals locked in fierce combat- with each other.
" Rebellion," Lan muttered to Krek.
" Which side do we favor?" asked the spider. Lan had no easy answer for that. To fight on the side of the Lord' s loyalist mechs meant they' d be thrust into the Twistings. To fight against them gave Silvain a free hand to murder them on the spot. Lan straightened, kicked a mechanical leg out from under one robotic guard, and backed toward the entrance to the Twistings.
" You said it. Inyx is on the other side. Let' s go join her. But first:"
He ducked and dodged his way to Silvain' s side. The man, for whatever reason, didn' t use his death tube. Still, the knife he wielded proved deadly enough to give Lan second thoughts about this impetuous course of action. Then he had no choice. The Lord' s side gradually pushed back the mechs opposing them. Lan had to act now.
He grabbed Silvain' s wrist and forced the knife up and safely away. At the same time, his other hand groped for the tiny leatherbound grimoire that had been taken from him.
" No, Martak, you won' t get it." Silvain gritted his teeth and tensed all his muscles. The man outweighed Lan by a considerable margin- and none of it was fat. At the last possible instant, Lan stopped opposing Silvain' s strength and spun about. The action sent Silvain tumbling over and down. Lan grabbed and sprinted for the vault door.
Just as he entered, he heard the Lord laughing.
Then the world twisted crazily and he spun, shrieking, into infinity.
" This is a peculiar place," observed Krek.
" What a wonderful job you' re doing if you' ve just figured that out," Lan said acidly. The disorientation he' d experienced entering the Twistings hadn' t been shared by Krek. The spider remained aloof and impervious to it.
" I, at least, did not go hooting and howling off like you. It took considerable effort to maintain your pace, I might add. Never have I seen you travel so fast."
" But the colors, the shapes, the sounds!"
" Nothing," said the spider. " I followed you, remembering every turning, every corridor that you traversed."
" You can get us out again?"
" Certainly." For once Lan didn' t care that the arachnid was smug and self- satisfied.
" Let' s go exploring, then. I' ve got enough to get us through just about anything." In the last seconds before entering the Twistings, he' d recovered his grimoire, in addition to stealing Silvain' s death tube and knife. With these items he felt confident enough to take on anything the Lord threw his way.
" Something comes," said Krek, his talons pressed against walls and floor. " Something large and slow."
" No problem," said Lan. He pulled out the cylinder, checked to make sure his thumb rested lightly on the trigger, then asked, " Where' s it coming from? Lef
t or right junction?"
" Left."
And then the waddling blue monster was on them.
Lan fired point- blank, to no effect. He fired again and again, and still the creature waddled on, filling the hallway so completely that there wasn' t any way of dodging. The man didn' t have time for even the simplest of magical spells; he' d relied too much on Silvain' s death tube. Hacking and slashing with the knife produced little more reaction than had the tube.
Furry legs engulfed him as Krek lunged forward. Blue globe and giant spider slashed and gouged one another. With a quickness that Lan hardly believed, the blue monster spun in the hall and went waddling off in the direction it had come.
" Thanks, old spider. You saved me that time." Lan felt an uneasiness mounting. He turned and saw another creature coming at him from the other way. Still far enough away, it gave him time to formulate his fire spell. He had learned a rudimentary fire spell when very young; it had aided him in the wilds. On his own he' d developed it to something more offensive in the way of weapon. With hints in the grimoire, he thought he might turn it into a formidable force.
Wrist- thick lances of flame blasted forth from his fingertips. Heat boiled back and seared his eyebrows and made his eyes water. Nothing mortal could withstand that wall of fire he cast forth.
Nothing except the blue glob. Its huge jaws opened and shut as if it hadn' t even noticed his devastating spell. Lan started to cast the spell again, in spite of the enormous drain it made on his vitality, when Krek stopped him.
" What are you doing?" the spider asked softly.
" The monster. Another one. It: it' s:" Lan looked back. No monster. He gusted a sigh and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. " An illusion. I should have known the Twistings would be filled with them."
" Allow me to ascertain the reality of what we find," said Krek. " My superior arachnid brain is not befuddled like your decidedly inferior human one."
" There' s that," Lan said in disgust, " plus you can fight off the real monsters we run across."