[Cenotaph Road 05] - Fire and Fog

by Robert E. Vardeman - (ebook by Undead)

  “We might never leave here alive,” said Ducasien in a low voice.

  “That worries you?”

  “I have regrets,” the man said, sitting beside Inyx on the floor.

  “What regrets? Things you’ve done?”

  “Things I haven’t done.”

  Their eyes locked again. This time Inyx didn’t turn away. She couldn’t. She held the same fears that Ducasien did. Whether it was because he understood her, being of her own world, or whether the nearness of death drew them together she didn’t know. The attraction was apparent—and mutual.

  Ducasien leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips across hers.

  “I… I need more,” she said in a weak voice.

  “Then I will die without any regrets at all,” he said.

  Arms locked about one another, they embraced and kissed deeply. Their weight shifted and they lay side by side on the hard rock floor. Neither noticed. Fingers explored, probed, stroked, caressed, excited. Clothing slowly opened, exposing new territories for their mutual pleasure. And soon enough their bodies merged into one writhing, undulating mass of desire.

  “No more regrets,” whispered Ducasien.

  “None,” answered Inyx. Then words were no longer possible.

  Krek tried to stand and fell heavily, only rising to half his full height. The numbness had left his front legs sooner than his rear ones. Twisting his thorax in a painful maneuver, he forced his inner juices to flow into his limbs.

  “There,” the spider said, heaving himself aloft. While still wobbly, he was able to walk about the chamber that had formerly housed the Heresler clan. All the gnomes had been packed off to servitude under the Tefize now. Why he had been spared, he didn’t know; that he had, only confirmed that humans and near humans were peculiar folk.

  “A real spider would have eaten me while I was paralyzed,” he said. “So much for their ruthlessness. Now where have Inyx and her new foundling gotten off to?”

  Krek regained strength as he walked and by the time he homed in on the magical curtain holding Inyx and Ducasien prisoner, he felt the usual spring returning to his stride. Only the low corridor ceilings prevented him from bouncing along as he’d have liked.

  “Friend Inyx,” Krek called loudly when he saw her sitting disconsolately within the cell. She did not answer or even give the slightest notice of him. He lumbered to the magical barrier and examined it as well as he could. Krek was no mage, but he sensed magics of a permanent nature.

  While this shimmering sheet lacked the potency of a cenotaph, it had a permanence to it that told the spider that waiting for the magics to dissipate was a mistake.

  “Inyx!” he called as loudly as he could. She did not move.

  Ducasien walked back and forth, hands clasped behind him. The man looked aloft nervously from time to time. Krek bent down and peered upward. The sight of acid rain dripping down the rock caused the arachnid to shudder.

  “My friends, you are in a sorry state. Allow me to aid you, if I can.” He began digging beside the magical screen in hope of penetrating the rock. Whether Lirory had imbued it with magical toughness or whether the rock was naturally strong, Krek didn’t know. All that mattered was his inability to dig through it.

  “Might I swing down through that opening?” he wondered aloud, again looking upward at the tiny vent in the cell’s roof. Krek blinked at that idea. To drop a web down into the cell required him to venture outside. In the rain. With the mind-confusing fog.

  “But I cannot allow you to languish in that awful cell. It is nothing but cold rock and that hideous burning water leaks from the very walls. Not even a fit spot to string a web within.”

  Krek tried futilely to again attract Inyx’s or Ducasien’s attention and then gave up on the effort. Only one course of action suggested itself. He had to locate Lan Martak and bring him down here to rescue Ducasien and Inyx—soon.

  Humans were such frail creatures he didn’t know if the two within the cell would survive much longer.

  Krek blinked and began turning about, looking for other magical beacons. Faint hints came from above. Krek went up through Yerrary, one level at a time, seeking out Lan Martak. When he finally reached a vaulted chamber with openings along the walls, he stopped. To pass through any of those doors meant he would find himself outside the warm bulk of protecting rock.

  “Friend Lan Martak,” he said, almost sobbing as he mouthed the name. He remembered how Lan had abandoned him, left him to fend for himself in the middle of battle. How he had used a spell to dismiss him like some lowly servant. To seek out the mage took more courage than Krek thought he possessed. His pride had been damaged—and even worse, his friendship betrayed.

  “Friend Inyx needs my help,” the spider said. “And without Lan Martak there can be no aid.” He blinked again and saw flickers of magic outside. Lan Martak was nearby, out in the rain and fog, his magics intermittently flashing like the lightning arcing through the nighttime sky.

  “Water,” sobbed Krek. Then the spider plunged through one of the openings and out onto the slopes of Yerrary.

  The rains pelted the mountaintop, setting the very rock afire. Krek saw thin streamers of fire rising from every spot where a droplet of rain struck ground—a double horror for him. Water and fire. He rubbed his furred legs together anxiously and then saw real trouble ahead.

  Thick banks of fog drifted languidly down the mountainside. And within one of the fog clouds came distinct indication of Lan Martak and his magics.

  “The fog affects humans as well as spiders,” he told himself. But Krek fought down the need to return to the relative safety of Yerrary. Inyx needed his aid and retrieving Lan Martak was the only way that help could be given. No matter that Lan Martak had betrayed his trust. No matter anything. Krek fought to remain true to his friendship with Inyx.

  She needed him. He plunged forth, talons clacking against the hard, acid-pitted stone of the mountain.

  “Lan Martak!” the spider called out. The only answer he received was muffled cries from within the fog.

  Krek stopped and looked down into a ravine filled with the mind-altering fog. He saw creatures lurking just behind the cloaking veils of mist, creatures so horrific his mind refused to believe in their existence. Krek tried holding his breath in the hope that this would make the beasts go away.

  They only moved closer, as the fog rose up along the ravine walls.

  “Lan Martak!” he called again. “Can you hear me? Friend Inyx needs your magic.” He refrained from adding how much he needed to renew the bonds of their friendship, to find the cause for Lan’s dereliction during battle.

  “Krek?” came the faint question. “So many enemies. They’re everywhere. Huge lizards. Fighting them. So tired. Can’t keep going much longer.”

  “Keep talking,” Krek ordered. His sense of hearing was acute, but his sensing of vibration even more acute. Talons dug into the corroded, acid-pitted rock. He turned slowly until he found the source of the words, the bootsteps against rock, the clanging of steel into stone.

  “Too many of them. Too tired to use more magic. They’re everywhere. Aieee!” The shriek rose to taunt Krek. The spider used all the sensory information he had and then launched a hunting web into the fog. It missed. He tried again and again.

  Finally he caught something.

  Krek hesitated to reel in his catch. While he truly thought the mist creatures were products of the fog and not reality, he wasn’t certain. He might be pulling one of those ponderous beasts directly to him.

  Krek jerked hard and a thin—and human—body sailed forth to crash into the rock at his feet.

  “Kiska k’Adesina!” he cried in surprise.

  The woman stared up, dazed and unable to speak. Krek spat forth an amber drop of solvent and freed her from his hunting web. For a second he worried that she might have slain Lan Martak. A new cry of anguish from the man’s throat came to the spider—and a new web rocketed forth to vanish into the grey, swirling depths of t
he fog.

  This time Krek pulled out a weakly struggling Lan Martak.

  “Hurry,” Krek commanded. “The rains are coming.” A single look at the ferocious sky confirmed this. Both Kiska and Lan stumbled and moved like they were possessed by demons. Movement, no matter how clumsy and uncoordinated, toward the entrances to Yerrary soon carried them to safety.

  Lan sat wild-eyed and simply stared at Krek.

  “Is the fog still upon you?” asked the spider. He dared not name this man friend again. Not yet.

  “The visions,” Lan said slowly. “They’re fading. They… they were so real!”

  “Have you recovered sufficiently?” pressed Krek.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Friend Inyx is imprisoned below. Only you have the power to free her.”

  Lan Martak didn’t reply. He sat and clutched himself, hands convulsively squeezing his upper arms. Looking around, his eyes finally focusing, he stared downward through the rock floor.

  “Claybore,” he muttered.

  “Lan,” started Kiska k’Adesina. A slash from Krek’s mandibles forced her against the wall. She paled and licked her lips nervously. But she didn’t speak further.

  “Claybore is down there,” Lan said. “And I sense more. His legs. Yes, the emanations have to be from his legs. He will regain them if I don’t hurry.”

  “Lan Martak, Inyx is in desperate need. Free her, then go after Claybore.”

  Lan Martak turned and stared into the spider’s dun-colored eyes and said, “I can’t help her. Not until I’ve defeated Claybore.”

  “Without you, she’ll die,” pressed the spider.

  “Then she must die. I must find Claybore and finish him before he finds his legs. I must.” Lan rose and staggered off. Kiska k’Adesina came and supported him.

  Krek only stared in disbelief. In his arachnid brain he understood betrayal by one whom he had thought his friend. But now Lan Martak refused even Inyx. Without him she would die and still the mage refused her aid.

  Tears welled in Krek’s eyes for lost friends.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You must rescue her. She is in need!” Krek protested. But the set expression on Lan Martak’s face told the story. The mage was not rushing to Inyx’s aid. He had set himself a task that required finishing before all else—anything else in the entire universe.

  “Claybore is growing more powerful,” Lan said, not hearing the spider. “My powers are still weak, but they return swiftly enough. The stay in the fog did little to help me, but soon I will be strong again. And it must be done right the first time or Claybore will again slip away.”

  “Rest, Lan,” soothed Kiska k’Adesina. “The fog has turned our brains against us. I still see visions of things that are not true. You must see them also. Rest. Take your time in this.”

  “I must attack. Now!”

  The spider stared in stark disbelief at the man who had been his friend. This Lan Martak was different, too different to bear. He was driven, haunted; the spider didn’t have words to express the emotions he saw playing out their scenes on Lan’s face.

  Krek had witnessed spiders going insane and did not pretend to understand the cause. One day they would swing wild and free on their gigantic webs, relishing the feel of wind through their furry legs, seeing the ground so far below their mountainous kingdom and then the next the spiders would spin off-pattern, asymmetrical webs confusing to the eye and impossible to walk. Soon after the spiders might even leave their precious webs entirely and drop to the ground, easy prey for creatures prowling below.

  Krek himself had touched insanity and paid dearly for it. Instead of remaining behind with his dear bride Klawn and allowing her to devour him to provide sustenance and protection for his hatchlings, he had left. He had walked the Cenotaph Road and met humans with different ways of looking at life, different mores, different values. And just when Krek thought he was beginning to understand and truly admire them—Lan Martak in particular—the man had changed drastically.

  Krek tried to liken it to a spider spinning an ungeometric web and then simply abandoning all that had been held dear. The comparison failed.

  By what the spider knew about humans, the bond formed between Lan and Inyx had been unbreakable.

  Krek almost cried in frustration and suppressed rage when he realized he had been totally wrong. Whatever there was between Inyx and Lan, it was not love. A lover would never do such a thing as Lan Martak did now. To abandon Inyx was totally out of character—and Krek was forced to admit he did not understand the slightest portion of human behavior.

  “Lan, you’re overtired. Rest. Claybore will not regain his parts soon,” whispered Kiska, who occasionally glared at Krek.

  “You listen to this one, Lan Martak?” asked Krek. “She is your sworn enemy. Our sworn enemy.”

  Lan opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut again. Confusion crossed his face and he shook his head.

  “She’s harmless,” he said. “As long as I watch over her, she won’t get into any mischief.”

  “She gives you bad counsel,” said Krek.

  “I know,” the mage said, voice almost breaking.

  “Then we rescue Inyx!”

  “We attack Claybore!” contradicted Lan.

  The spider fell silent. Things were not to his liking and even became more confusing as time went on. To tolerate Kiska k’Adesina’s continued life bewildered the spider. One quick slash with his mandibles would remove one of Claybore’s top commanders and an avowed enemy. Many had been the time when Kiska had followed and had tried to destroy them. Why did Lan Martak allow her to live now?

  Lan made magical passes in the air and then spoke. Krek shivered as the mage used the Voice, the tongue taken from Claybore’s own mouth. The resonance billowed up and filled the huge stone chamber until Krek wanted to shrilly cry out for mercy. This was a potent spell being cast.

  And it drew Kiska k’Adesina closer and closer to Lan in some fashion Krek couldn’t understand.

  Soon, the young sorcerer stood with his arm protectively around her waist. Her head rested against his shoulder and her thin hand stroked up and down his arm as he watched the conjuration take form in the center of the chamber.

  “There he is,” said Lan. “This spell produces Claybore’s image without allowing him to know he is being spied upon.”

  “Inyx needs you,” Krek said doggedly. “We must rescue her—you must, for I cannot get past the ward spells the gnome mage established.”

  “Claybore is unprepared. Look around him. He is plotting something and it is not battle. Now is the time. I know it!”

  “Lan Martak, do not do this. She befuddles your mind. Her words confuse you just as the fog did.”

  “Kiska’s not urging me to attack. Listen to her, Krek. She’s telling me just the opposite. She wants me to forget about Claybore—and I can’t. We attack now.”

  “We?” asked the spider, standing fully upright and peering down at Lan and Kiska.

  Lan swung about and stared up at Krek.

  “Aren’t you with me?”

  “Why will you not rescue Inyx?”

  “You’ve got a single-minded determination of how to succeed, Krek, that is faulty. Attack Claybore; then all else falls into place. We can win. We can. I know it.”

  “I will stand beside you,” Krek said. The spider’s mind turned over all that had happened and he finally decided he owed Lan Martak this one last loyalty. If Lan Martak had been a spider, Krek’s decision would have been far easier—he would have eaten him. But being a human complicated matters. Humans tended to do things in definitely barbaric ways. Perhaps this was another such case, though how Krek couldn’t say.

  He may have been single-minded as Lan Martak accused, but Krek knew that Inyx and her friend Ducasien would perish all too soon unless something was done about the magical barrier imprisoning them.

  “Krek,” said Lan in a low voice as Kiska went on a few paces ahead of them, “I want to
apologize.”

  “It is friend Inyx who requires the apology,” said Krek.

  “No, not this. I’m right about this. Before. When Claybore and Lirory Tefize and I were trying to reduce one another to rubble.”

  “The pit where Claybore’s arms were?”

  “Yes, then,” said Lan. “I think I may have cast a spell on you when I didn’t mean to. I used the Voice to tell you to leave me alone. I… I didn’t even realize I was doing it. See, I was occupied with them and you kept bothering me and making you go away was the easiest thing for me. So, I just told you to leave me alone.”

  Krek sniffed loudly but said nothing. He had felt the spell forcing him away from Lan. But Lan Martak had cast it of his own free will. He had wanted to be alone in his fight with the other mages. The spider could do little about that, even if he did want to aid his friend—his former friend.

  “I was distracted,” Lan went on, his eyes moving from Krek to the slender form of Kiska k’Adesina ahead. “Claybore kept me occupied with new and diabolically different spells. I had to prevent him from regaining his arms.”

  “You failed,” the spider pointed out. “You told me to go away and let you be and you failed.”

  “I said I was sorry, dammit,” Lan snapped irritably. “I’ve got powers that sometimes slip away from me. I’m not used to using them. Not yet. You were bothering me so I told you to go away—but with too much force.”

  “Too much magical force,” corrected Krek.

  “Too much magic,” said Lan, his fists clenched tightly now. The arachnid saw the growing tension in the man and fell silent. He had so much he wanted to say to Lan Martak, but not now, not within hearing of their mortal enemy. Kiska continued striding along as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  Krek considered eating her, then put the thought from his mind. Lan Martak would be angry over that—and the spider didn’t know the reason. On other worlds Lan had often mentioned how ruthlessly Kiska k’Adesina pursued and how equal ruthlessness would have to be used to triumph over her. Why allow her to accompany them, especially now when they went to fight her master? Krek started to ask this when Lan held up a restraining hand.