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 center 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."