Only then did he attempt escape again.
He battered himself against a bristly leg, grabbed hold, and pulled himself to his feet. The spider kicked out, chitonous claw threatening to rip open his guts.
" Sorry, old spider," mumbled Lan as he jerked out his dagger and made a swift cut. He would have hamstrung any mammal. As it was, he only produced a turgid flow from a shallow cut. No damage done, except enraging the spider.
Lan Martak dodged the mandibles clacking shut just inches above his head. Keeping low, he darted in and out between legs until he actually thought he had a chance of winning free.
The hissing as a hunting web wound itself around his legs killed any hope he had.
" No, it won' t end this way!" he raged. Lan struggled, then calmed. He hated the idea of using magic against these creatures who were so much like his friend, but survival depended on it. His personal life meant nothing in the worlds- spanning struggle against Claybore; but if he died, all hope of defeating the dismembered sorcerer died with him. The fate of worlds depended on him, yet he couldn' t bring himself to employ a fire spell against his captors. Wanton slaughter like that might please Claybore; Lan was better than the sorcerer he fought across the universe. If he didn' t live up to his own ideals, why fight at all?
A small spell, the fire conjuration took hardly any concentration. But Lan put everything he had into it. He felt the sparks dancing along his fingertips.
" He burns!" cried one of the spiders separated from the scene. " Stop him or he will set us all aflame!"
The spiders' fear of fire matched Krek' s. Angry hissing sounded and Lan felt hundreds of tendrils strike his body, spin him around, encapsulate him. The fire burned sluggishly at his fingers and he found himself unable to bring it into full- raging heat as long as his arms were pinned. Claws turned him about, stood him upright, and then came the real cocooning. Hissing, whispering softly, the webs fell about his body, layer upon layer until only his face remained free.
" Don' t cover my nose and mouth," he begged. " You' ll suffocate me."
The arachnids argued among themselves about how far to go in the cocooning process. At last they decided Lan presented no further danger to them, either magically or physically. They allowed him to keep his face free.
" Watch it!" he cried, as he felt his feet yanked out from under him. He landed heavily, bruising his shoulder even through the cushioning cocoon.
A web lashed to his feet dragged him down the side of the mountain. By the time they reached the valley, Lan regretted that the spiders hadn' t simply killed him. Every joint and muscle in his body had been bruised and strained. Uttering small numbing spells helped him for a while, but the use of the magic grew too tiring; he fought against the red tide of pain washing against his consciousness and threatening to drown him.
He rolled over in the dust of the valley floor and got a fair look around him. Dozens of spiders remained on patrol not twenty yards distant. Even if he could use his fire spell without seriously burning himself before the cocoon strands parted, the spiders would be on him in an instant, added webs weighing him down until no hope remained.
" There has to be some other way. But what? What?"
The man' s mind raced. The fire spell kept returning to be the one most potent against the spiders, but its use was limited by his desire for self- survival. And Lan Martak hated to use the spell if it appeared he was going to die; such retribution accomplished nothing in the present circumstances. It certainly would do little to fight Claybore.
" A spell," he said to himself. " Cold? No good. None of the others is easily done, either." He wished he could reach the grimoire carefully tucked away under his tunic. The spells therein might hold the key to his escape. But with arms pinned and the grimoire securely bandaged inside the cocoon he might as well have wished for total release.
Two of the spiders trotted over. One of them spoke.
" You have been chosen for an honor totally unworthy of you, human."
" What' s that?"
" Food for the Webmaster' s hatchlings. Hoist him aloft."
Lan Martak screamed as the strand around his feet tightened. He felt himself rushing upward into the sky, feet first. His forehead brushed the ground for the briefest of instants and then he dangled head down fifty feet in the air. Lan controlled his triphammering heart and tried to relax. It wasn' t easy suspended so far above the valley floor.
Lan Martak felt the sticky strands around his ankles quiver and shake as if some huge being nibbled at his flesh. The involuntary movement on his part caused a slight swing. He got an unwanted view of the valley, the web from which he dangled, and the sides of the canyon. And on one slow circuit he saw a spider slowly making its way toward him along the aerial pathway.
He swallowed hard, trying not to panic. His magic had availed him little. Without the use of his hands he couldn' t properly conjure. At one point he had even decided it was better to die in flames than to hang here awaiting dozens of hungry spiderlets- but he hadn' t been able to conjure up the fire spell at all.
Now they came for him. To eat him. Pieces slashed off and fed to newborns.
He might live for days before finally perishing.
The spider came closer and closer, Lan only getting brief glimpses as he swung to and fro faster and faster, due to the added weight on the web holding him.
" You appear distraught, friend Lan Martak. There is no need," came the familiar voice. " I am not the one who will eat you."
" That doesn' t make me feel any better, Krek."
" It ought to. Not every human is destined to be dinner for future Webmasters." Krek looped strands of his own sticky web material about the existing web and dropped so that he stared Lan in the eye. The human felt a surge of vertigo. For the spider, this was a perfectly natural way of conversing. What did it matter if one or both of the parties was upside down?
" I don' t want to be dinner for anyone, much less a hatchling of some damned Webmaster."
" I am a Webmaster," Krek pointed out gently. " But far removed from my domain." Lan thought the spider was going to cry as he launched off on still, another bout of nostalgic yearnings. " It seems that Murrk has hit upon what is the ideal situation. You see, his mate desired to devour him, as was her right and duty, but he convinced her that better nutrition lay in cocooned humans. An elegant solution to a problem, one that never occurred to me. After all, humans do taste funny. ' Tis a true pity I am not back in my Egrii Mountains with such a notion. Klawn and I can be reconciled. Ah, my lovely, petite Klawn."
" You' ll never see that domain again if you let them eat me."
" Why not? I walked the Road long before meeting you. While my plight was different then, it is no less perilous now. Imagine, a Webmaster of the Egrii Mountains, lost amid worlds, spurned by his own mate, combating evil. ' Tis the stuff of legends, but living it is less than happy for me. With Webmaster Murrk' s solution, my dilemma might be soluble after all."
Lan said nothing, composing his thoughts to argue with the alien brain. Krek was his friend, but the spider did not think like a human. To him being eaten was a fact of life, even if it was a fact he so cravenly ran from.
" What of this place?" asked Lan, changing his tactics. Any information gleaned about his arachnid captors might suggest ways of freeing himself from this heels- over- head predicament. " Have you spoken with the spiders about Claybore?"
" They know of him and the grey- clad soldiers he brings, but they count them as of little importance."
" What? But they can' t. Claybore' s dangerous!"
" To these fine spiders, he is only another human. I can appreciate their problem in discerning the difference between a skull and torso riding a mechanical contrivance and an ordinary human. The similarities are ever so obvious. One head, an insufficient number of appendages, no mandibles or sleek, furry legs."