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" Now what?" asked a woman nearby. " I' m not going through there. Not as long as I might end up like poor Langmur." The scout still twitched on the floor of the notch, long dead in the brain but the body still not convinced.

" There' s no way through, except for this. We' ll have to turn back and take the other fork."

" That' s going to cost us hours, Jacy," protested Inyx. " Wurnna doesn' t have the time." Even as she spoke a new barrage of boulders was magically arced up and over onto the city.

" Maybe Rugga and the others can:" But Noratumi knew that was a faint hope. The first of the falling rocks deflected away from its target. The next came closer. The third still closer. Even as they argued, the mages remaining inside the city walls weakened from repeated use of their power.

Inyx decided quickly.

" Fire- arrows. Ignite them and launch them through the gap. Whoever rigged this trap- and I suspect Silvain' s gentle touch- can' t have planned for a full assault."

" Why fire- arrows?"

" Heat. There' s no way a trip plate could be placed in the rocky floor. Do you see any wires?" Seeing Noratumi' s answer, she added, " A small magical spell to sense body heat, a few spring- loaded devices on the boulders, and that' s all."

" I hope you' re right."

After the seventh fire- arrow blazed through the gap, the poisoned spines stopped falling from their hiding spots. But still Inyx wasn' t satisfied. She made the archers shoot another fifty arrows before being convinced this wasn' t a more subtle trap. And even then, she insisted on being the first through. If she' d underestimated Silvain, let it be her life that was forfeit.

Safely on the other side of the cut, she motioned for the rest to follow.

At a quick trot, the small band followed the tracks left by the grey- clads on their way upward. Within sight of both the camp at the base of the cliff and the winding path upward, Inyx heard boot leather grinding on rock.

Alberto Silvain stood in the path, just out of bow range, hands resting on slim hips, his legs widespread. While she couldn' t clearly see his face, she sensed the smirk.

" Inyx, we meet again," he called. " I rather thought you' d have stopped to admire the flora of this backwater planet. You continually surprise me."

" I' ll do more than that. I' ll kill you, you murdering bastard!"

" Inyx," warned Noratumi, restraining her.

" Yes, your barbarian friend is right. Another step and you won' t take a second." From all around rose grey- clad archers.

Even as they drew back their bows, Noratumi gave the signal to his own to fire. Arrows flashed back and forth in the air. Some struck their enemies' shafts and deflected them. Still others fell harmlessly. A few found their marks, either by magic or skill.

" You realize your dilemma, Inyx," came Silvain' s mocking voice. " I guard the way up. You must stop dear Kiska and her captive mage from dropping her rocks and I prevent it. If you tarry, Wurnna will be reduced to rubble. Please. Surrender. I shall treat you honorably." The laugh that accompanied the words put all doubt out of her mind as to what Silvain meant.

" What now?" asked Noratumi.

Inyx had to admit she didn' t know.

Lan Martak tapped the energy from the power stone more and more. The bracelet circling his wrist and the necklace bobbing with his every step turned warm to the touch, but his muscles worked smoothly and he felt no fatigue. He and Krek made it back to the valley of the spiders in less time than ever before. The terrain between the massif guarding Wurnna and the valley had become too well known to him due to the number of times he' d traversed it of late.

" Why do you return? For more of the rock?" The spider dangling above Lan' s head clashed mandibles together in a ferocious display. Lan no longer feared such demonstrations. He had magical powers that far surpassed mere physical ones now.

" We need aid," he said in a straightforward manner. There was too little time to dance around the issue.

" Friend Lan Martak, this is not the way," Krek told him. The spider bounded aloft, deftly catching one of the web strands and scampering along it to hang beside the Webmaster. The two chittered and screeched in high- pitched spider talk while Lan impatiently waited. Nervous, he paced. Upset, he smashed rocks with tiny spells. And the hours passed.

" Krek," he called out, " what' s happening?"

" Murrk is unconvinced. I do not blame him, either. There is scant loyalty to be drawn upon in this matter. It certainly does not bring honor to the web defending humans from their own kind." Krek paused, then asked, " Would you allow Murrk to eat any humans he catches?"

When Lan didn' t answer, Krek said sadly, " I thought as much. The negotiations go slowly. We might take a short while yet."

Lan shook his head. Krek' s idea of a " short while" might be a week or more. To the arachnid, he had just begun the discussion with the Webmaster and over nine hours had passed. The sun dipped below the high mountain peaks and cast deep shadows across the valley.

With night came increasing uneasiness. Lan no longer saw the spiders in the web but only heard their clacks and whistles and chitters. What bothered him most was the growing sensation of something amiss. He finally decided it had nothing to do with the spiders; as long as Krek accompanied him there was little danger to him.

He smiled ruefully. Rugga had been right. His presence wasn' t really needed here. Murrk wouldn' t even speak to him. Still, Lan thought he might be of assistance if Krek faltered in the talks.

" But there' s something more," he said aloud to himself. The sensation hanging in the air was similar to the humid heaviness before a summer thunderstorm. Lan reached inside and pulled forth his mote of light, sending the faithful scout forth to investigate. In only seconds the dancing pinpoint of light returned for him to read the warning of impending danger.

" Krek!" he bellowed. " Warn the spiders. Claybore' s getting ready to destroy a retaining dam high in the mountains. This entire valley will be flooded!"

" Water? You say water?" Responding wasn' t Krek but Murrk. " The humans do this terrible deed?"

" Claybore does it. That' s why we oppose him," said Lan. " You' ve got to reach high ground." The mote whirled about his head in a quick orbit and he read the rest of Claybore' s plan. " But be careful to stay out of your webs. He is going to fire them."

" Water? Then fire! Nooooo!" The echo reached the full length of the valley.

A dull plop marked Krek dropping from the web to stand beside him. The brown- haired youth stared off into the distance, not seeing with his eyes as much as with his mind.

" You are not inventing this danger to frighten Murrk into helping, are you?" Krek slumped down. " Oh woe! Fire. Water. Why do you humans so enjoy such nasty things?"

" Claybore' s not what you' d call human," Lan said distractedly. " I think I might be able to stop him. With a little help, that is."

" Oh?"

" The dam can be protected. The fires require a considerable bit more magic on my part, but maybe, just maybe something can be done."

" Do it, friend Lan Martak. I have come to like these brothers of mine. Murrk, especially. For a Webmaster he is considerate and capable, even if he does strike me as obdurate at times. Actually, when you take into account all he has to do:"

" Never mind that, Krek. Get them aloft into the webs in case I can' t stop the dam from being torn apart."

" But the fires."

" First things first. Claybore plans to drive them into the webs and then burn them out of the air. If the dam holds, he might reconsider the fires."

" A faint hope. We are all doomed. Doomed, I say." Krek began sniffling, tears forming at the corners of his dun- colored eyes. Lan ignored the mood shift. He had work to do. Hard work.

He didn' t even remember sinking to the ground to sit tailorfashion. The first effort to block Claybore' s magic failed. Lan tried to spread the mote of light into a curtain once more, but this time the energies were too thin to hold the enormous weight of a dam. All Claybore needed was a magical spear thrust through the dam under water level; a thousand motes plugging the hole wouldn' t stay the tons of water rushing outward.