by Неизвестный
" There' s the she- demon," shouted Knoton. " Kill her!"
Inyx advanced to lunge with her sword, the point severing the vital wire in one mech' s back panel. She fought through toward Knoton, to see if she couldn' t end this battle by eliminating the opposition leader, when she noticed that some of the mechs falling to her sword evaporated when they touched ground.
" Illusion!" she shouted to Fredek Fynn, just entering by way of the main corridor. " Not all' s real."
While she didn' t know for certain, Inyx guessed that the Lord of the Twistings had learned of what transpired in his grand maze. He personally controlled the illusions she now fought as hard as any real opponent. She pictured the Lord sitting in a chair, a smug expression on his face. He revelled in their misfortune. He sent wave after wave of illusion to torment and hurt and confuse. She remembered him clowning about. She remembered all too well the pain and humiliation she' d felt when placed in his tiny maze.
Inyx vowed then and there to kill him with her bare hands.
She fought like a dozen warriors.
Snakes coiled about her feet. She ignored them. Single- eyed giants attacked. She dodged out of their way. But the pain, the paralysis, the gut- wrenching sense of disorientation, those she couldn' t simply deny. Inyx fought all the harder. The more pain he sent her, the more she hated the Lord of the Twistings.
In a way, that series of illusions and agonies gave her strength to continue.
" Call it off, Knoton," begged another mech. Inyx recognized the broad metal back as belonging to Kolommo. Knoton shoved the other out of the way.
" Stop!" cried Inyx, motioning wildly to Fredek. It was too late. Fredek Fynn swung a metal bar with ferocious strength. Kolommo' s head exploded as if a death spell had focused on it. Inyx saw her only chance for peaceful alliance shattered into a million fragments.
" Murderer!" raged Knoton.
Inyx stumbled forward to stop the mechanical' s attack on Fredek. A transparent barrier stopped her.
" No, Lord, don' t do this. Let me through!" She pounded furiously on the clear wall to no avail. Inyx sagged, felt crushing despair, shook it off, and then turned and bolted for the corridor through which the humans had attacked. Down the darkened course she ran, into the now deserted nest, out and down another corridor. The last of the blue gobbling monsters waddled along, retreating from the fury of the mechanical counterattack.
She slashed at one before it sank deadly teeth into her body. Again, Inyx cut. The creature died. She forced her way over its blue bulk and into the hall beyond. The woman felt time slipping away. She sprinted, found the proper path and soon enough followed Fredek' s route into Knoton' s base.
Inyx saw the mechanical leader decapitate Fredek Fynn just as she entered.
Her body went numb. Her mind slipped out of synchronization with her actions. Inyx stumbled forward, her sword dangling from her shockdeadened fingers.
" You, human. You' re next," Knoton said savagely. The mechanical charged, iron bar swinging with effortless ease above his head.
Inyx didn' t quite snap out of her shock by the time Knoton came within attacking range. But the Lord didn' t want his private showing to end too soon. The iron bar crashed into an invisible wall, reverberated, and bounced free of Knoton' s hands. The mech stared in disbelief, then attacked with his bare hands.
The time between first and second assaults measured only seconds, but Inyx recovered enough to feel cold rage welling inside her. Fredek Fynn had been murdered by this monster. She could avenge the deaththe real death. A mechanism didn' t die. It simply stopped functioning. The woman could stop Knoton' s functioning.
Her sword cut ended abruptly against Knoton' s neck. The blade shattered like crystal on impact, but it drove the mech to his knees. Inyx followed up instantly, kicking, trying to smash the glass eyes and blind her opponent.
" It' s not that easy, human," growled Knoton.
The words turned Inyx into a fighting machine. She hadn' t asked to be placed in the Twistings. This metal monster had killed the only friend she' d found. And for what reason? Irrational hatred of flesh and blood. That was what drove Knoton.
All around them flowed unreality. Humans fought with mechs. Mechs and hybrids battled. And intermixed with all were the Lord of the Twistings' illusions. But to the dark- haired woman, only one thing mattered: Knoton.
Her fingers locked on cold metal flanges in deadly combat.
" Die!" he grunted, metal arms circling her body. Inyx allowed it, keeping her arms free of the grip. She had disabled one mech by loosening a wire in the back. Knoton would die, too.
She gasped as he tightened his grip around her body. The air gusted from her lungs. He tightened more, preventing her from sucking in new oxygen. Her fingers groped blindly, seeking out the vital conductor in the back. Just as the world spun and turned to blackness, she jerked free the wire.
Knoton roared and thrashed around- but he didn' t collapse.
" Human," he said, backing away from her. " My body is different. That slows me, but it does not stop me." Inyx studied the way the mech moved. Ripping free the wire she' d found had done more than slow Knoton. His left leg dragged perceptibly.
She gasped until her lungs had enough air, then looked around for a weapon. She' d learned her lesson; Knoton was far too strong for her. Nothing useful lay about.
Her eyes widened when she glanced over Knoton' s shoulder. A wraith glided forward, tiny hands reaching out. Inyx didn' t know if it was illusion or reality. One way meant advantage for her; the other meant lost concentration.
The wraith glided: through: Knoton. The mech took no notice. The Lord sent her illusion. However she responded, Inyx had betrayed herself to Knoton. He launched an attack, low and at her legs. He lifted her up and dropped her heavily to the floor. She looked up and saw metallic death descending toward her head.
Inyx jerked hard to the mech' s left side. What little damage she' d caused saved her. Knoton tried to follow her motion, failed. The woman evaded his clumsy lunge and again faced him, this time with her sword again in hand.
Or was it?
Inyx tightened her grip. The pommel felt substantial, but she hadn' t picked up the sword. It was illusion, but one Knoton saw.
" Knoton, let' s talk. I know that Kolommo wanted a truce. We can come to an agreement."
" After you' ve destroyed my friend?"
" You killed mine, also." She didn' t make the novice' s mistake of looking toward the dead Fredek Fynn. Such an opening for Knoton would spell her death.
Knoton slowed, stopped. He took in all the sounds of battle. The illusion mixed with reality cost lives.
" We have a mutual enemy," she said. " The man who put us both into the Twistings. Let' s fight the Lord, not each other."
" You fight well- for a human."
" You show compassion- for a mech."
They stood facing each other. Slowly the tension went out of the air. They abandoned their fighting stances.
" The only victor in this will be the Lord," said Knoton. " How do we end it?"
" We stop fighting. We join forces."
" No!"
" Then we just stop fighting."
Knoton and Inyx backed away from each other and slowly regained control of their forces. Knoton had the easier time of it, but Inyx soon persuaded her side to desist. The engagement broke off gradually, and each side assembled at a different part of the room. Bodies, both bone and metal, littered the floor. All over, illusion ended and a myriad corpses vanished into nothingness.
" Back to the nest," ordered Inyx.
Knoton stared at her from across the room. The civil war in the Twistings had ended- for the moment.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lan Martak had to stop and use his healing spells once more on the shoulder wound. The mechanical' s dart had become infected in spite of his earlier treatment. Lan sat and chanted the spell, feeling the magics soothe and begin the healing process anew. But as he relaxed aft
er the pain finally began to recede, he also grew increasingly lethargic. Even at the best of times when he was uninjured, the use of magic sapped his strength quickly.
" Can we stay here for a while, Krek?"
" It is not a good place. I detect many of the mechanicals nearby." The spider bobbed up and down, talons grating against the walls and floor of the Twistings.
" Can' t go on. So tired. Must sleep. Wish I had a bed. Wish I could just:" Lan drifted off to fitful sleep.
And awoke screaming.
Krek towered over him, peering down, concern in his soft chocolate- colored eyes.
" What is it?"
" M- my dreams. They turned all around like I was in a dark, rotating barrel. I felt as if I' d been impaled, but it was more than physical torture. The dreams were: rotted."
" The Lord of the Twistings sends those to you as his present," said the spider. " He wants to keep you from using your full powers. Distrust yourself and the spells you know will not work."
" I do need to keep my confidence," admitted Lan. He wiped some of the sweat from his forehead. His clothing had become thoroughly drenched while he slept and dreamed. " But if I can' t sleep without experiencing more of that:" He shook his head.
The dreams- nightmares- had been horrific. What was worse, he found it difficult to separate the fantasy from the reality. It mattered little whether his eyes were open or shut. This hallway stretching forever in front of him played such an important part in his dream. Did that mean he had seen what would happen? Had the dream been a foreshadowing? Did his powers now include prophecy?
" I don' t want to walk along this corridor, Krek," he said, voice shaking. " Awful things will happen. The floors will grow teeth and swallow us. The walls will crush in. Everything will turn black and start to spin. The-"
" Lan Martak," snapped the arachnid. " Those were dreams. We face some illusion, yes. The Lord sends those to taunt you. But our own fear is the greatest obstacle. I know the location of the door leading out of the Twistings. Shall we go there and escape, or do you wish to cower here on the floor for the rest of your miserable existence?"
Such words from Krek took Lan by surprise. The man usually was on the giving end of lectures like that.
" The maze, Krek. I' ve seen."
" You have seen nothing. The Lord of the Twistings puts it all into your thick skull. Once there, it can never escape. That much is obvious. I grow tired of this place. There are no juicy grubs to eat, no fit places to hang a web, no peaks to scale. It is not a proper place for a Webmaster. Not at all."
" Which way is out?" Lan asked. As he stood, vertigo assailed him. He felt as if he were being turned inside out. But he straggled to keep moving, in spite of the feeling of falling, turning, going in all the wrong directions. He had to rely on Krek' s inbred sense rather than on his own distorted ones.
The spider trooped off, talons clicking merrily on the floor. Lan followed more slowly. The wound, his tiredness, the feeling of something about to happen made him uneasy.
Every step produced more giddiness and disorientation.
" Stop, Krek, wait. Are you sure you know where we' re going?"
" Yes."
Illusions flittered just at the periphery of Lan' s vision. He concentrated on them and noted how they vanished when he uttered certain ward spells. But this constant magic use drained his vitality further. When the Lord of the Twistings appeared behind him, he had nothing left to draw on.
" So good, yes, you' re much better than I thought," crowed the Lord.
" Friend Lan Martak, he is here," said Krek. The spider turned in the narrow corridor and faced the Lord. " This is no illusion."
" Can you be so sure, fuzz- legs?" taunted the Lord. " I control this maze perfectly. The Twistings are mine, all mine! I love them, I do!"
" He is here, Lan Martak. Kill him. Or get out of my way and allow me to do so!"
Lan wobbled. What was real, what wasn' t? Krek seemed sure the Lord had actually come into the treacherous maze personally. Lan guessed differently. This was illusion.
" He only mocks us, Krek. He can cast his images wherever he wants."
" No image, this. I smell, I sense, I see. The vibrations are those of a living man. The Lord of the Twistings can die here and now." The spider lurched over Lan, mandibles clacking. They slashed through the air just inches in front of the Lord. He never flinched.
The man- the image?- danced back, saying, " Can you be so sure? Lan is the mage. He knows about such things. You know about grubs. Like these."
Wrist- thick grubs poked their blunt, blind heads out of newly formed tunnels drilled through the walls. Lan blinked twice. He sensed their ghostly, insubstantial nature, yet still felt the presence of another human. Krek might be right about this actually being the Lord of the Twistings, in the flesh.
" Kill him, Krek. You' re right. It is the Lord."
" Yes, Krek, kill me," taunted the man in the fool' s outfit. He rolled and somersaulted backward down the hall. " Who knows, you might be the next Lord of the Twistings. What a sight. A giant spider ruling over the Twistings."
Krek launched himself in a shallow attack, mandibles aiming for the legs. The Lord leaped, dodged, and retreated.
" Very good. But you can do better."
Lan pulled out the death tube and fired past Krek' s bulk. The lightning blast singed the spider' s legs- but the effect on the Lord was startling. Rage contorted his face. He clenched his hands into tight fists and screamed.
" A barrier," said Krek. " He has constructed one of the magical barriers between us."
Lan felt the barrier being erected but had been powerless to stop it. The Lord had somehow sensed the impending danger- or had the spell ready in case Krek got too close. However it had happened, the transparent wall had saved the Lord from fiery death.
The Lord of the Twistings vanished from sight, as if he had been an illusion. With him went the barrier.
" The walls are not as substantial as they seem," commented Krek. " We are not too near our entry point into the Twistings. Perhaps there are more ways in and out of the maze."
" Let' s get to the room as fast as we can. I feel like I' m going to pass out."
" That explains your cavalier use of that fire- thrower. You almost set my legs on fire." The spider shuddered. " I urge you to be more careful in the future."
" I will. Now, hurry."
Krek lumbered along in the opposite direction, taking turns and finding corridors where Lan didn' t think any were possible. When he had decided to tell Krek they walked in circles, they entered the small room that had been their first sight in the Twistings.
" Peculiar," observed Krek. " Note the way these pots burn for no reason." Black kettles filled with flowers of sulfur dangled over small fires. The released odor gave the room a hint of hell.
" He' s a showman. He knows how to stage and upstage. The sulfur keeps everyone off their guard until his spells turn them around. By the time the magic wears off, the people have wandered blindly into the maze and are irretrievably lost."
" I found my way back easily enough."
" Maybe he' s never tackled anyone of your: size," Lan finished lamely.
" True. I am somewhat larger than most on this world. You humans are not very big. Which can be a good thing. There are so many of you, as is. The crowding conditions would be brutal if all of you were my size." The spider shuddered, adding, " What an ugly thought."
Lan stopped listening to his friend and went to examine the inner workings of the vault door. His fingers pressed into the cold silver metal. Due to his weakness, Lan had difficulty turning his magics inward, to the mechanism operating the toggles. His magical senses reached out, lightly touched, failed to find.
He sank to his knees, head resting against the door.
" Can' t do it," he said, almost crying. " There' s something inside. A spell, a magic. But I can' t get a feel for it. If only I could manipulate it, the door would open."
&
nbsp; " It is not purely mechanical?" asked Krek. The spider walked forward and spread four powerful legs out, engulfing the door. Talons dug into the rim of the door. He pushed. Lan watched as tendons stood out when the spider' s muscles contracted with gargantuan effort. A faint metal tearing noise came, but no movement of the vault door. Krek worked harder, then relaxed.
" It is beyond me, totally beyond the limits of my feeble strength. Oh, I' ve grown too weak being away from my dear Egrii Mountains. Why did I ever leave, why do I torture myself by roaming? Dear little Klawn, my hatchlings, I left them all, and for what? This!"
" There, there, Krek. We both tried and couldn' t move this metallic mountain."
" Try your flame spell. Melt it down!"
" Wouldn' t work. I can barely walk. That requires intense concentration. I need to rest, to regain my strength. Maybe then we can get out. But I wonder:"
Lan Martak had felt enervated during the confrontation with the Lord of the Twistings in the corridor, but the nearer they came to the vault room, the weaker he seemed. It was as if some power drained him mentally and physically. He struggled to sit up and work his powers to detect any use of magic. That had been his first and most potent ability: sensing magic. Nothing impinged on his mind.
That didn' t mean spells weren' t in use around him, though. He had found subtle magics, clever spells, ones so sublime his untrained skills failed to detect them. Such might be the case now.
" Lan Martak, sounds of battle come from down the corridor."
He strained and heard human voices.
" We can' t get out this way, not right now. Don' t let the Twistings confuse you, Krek. Remember how to get back here, and let' s go see if we can help."
" Help?" the spider said, gusting a baleful sigh. " A shopworn human and a lonely spider far from mountainous home and loving family? How can we help anyone when we fail so completely to help ourselves? Oh, very well. Let us be off."
Lan managed to walk unassisted. He noted that strength returned as he put more and more distance between himself and the vault room. The man filed this information away for future investigation. He' d missed the use of a spell against him, of that he was sure. By the time they reached a juncture in the interminable corridors, he felt strong enough to use the knife.