" Where were they taking her- them?"
Krek shivered in way of a shrug. " It is difficult to say since I have the feeling that the soldiers are not native to my world."
" Then they' re from still another world," mused Lan.
" I mean what I mean," snapped Krek. " They do not belong on this web world. All these grey ones come from some other world lying along the Road."
Lan thought this over, slowly nodding. It explained the encounters on the boggy world. The grey- clad soldiers expanded across world after world in an attempt to establish a real empire. He sighed. This was conquest on a cosmic scale. On his own world, many had established vast empires ranging over entire continents. N- Yalch of the Timbers had welded together a confederation spanning four continents less than a generation before, only to fall victim to an assassin' s poison. None had risen to take his place; few of his commanding, charismatic power appeared in any given century.
But the idea of conquering entire worlds, treading along the Cenotaph Road, took Lan by storm. The audacity of it! No simple barbarian warlord could attempt such a feat. The logistics, the movement of men and supplies alone, boggled the mind. Lan considered other aspects, then realized why Surepta had been recruited. Scouting ahead onto new worlds slated for conquest required knowledge. Locals enticed to accept high commissions as Surepta had done would prove invaluable when the main body of troops moved in to conquer.
Lan raged again against the turncoat and his back- stabbing ways. Yet he recognized a still greater danger. The old sheriff had considered the grey- clads a local phenomenon, nothing more. He and all the deputies in the world couldn' t resist the onslaught of a well- trained, disciplined army marching along the Cenotaph Road. With whole worlds to supply and support, no individual world could stand for long.
Yet the very act of invasion posed a major problem.
" Who can move so many men through one tiny cenotaph?" he asked Krek. " It seems a life' s work trying to get enough soldiers into just one world, much less several. Remember the numbers of soldiers we found? They seemed endless."
" I remember, oh, how this woe- filled one remembers!" Krek returned to pitying himself. " My fur has never been matted from more foul mud and water. And they humiliated me mercilessly. Me, Webmaster of the Egrii Mountains. Never again will I bear up under such scorn. My bravery then amazes me."
" You can be brave like that again, Krek. Now tell me, how is this being done, this invasion? Surely, a single man armed with a crossbow would be able to kill the soldiers one by one as they emerged from the cenotaph." And, he mentally added, the crossbowman wouldn' t even have to stand a long duty watch- merely a short span around midnight when the cenotaph activated.
" The obvious solution is that Waldron Ravensroost has discovered a way of generating his own Road." Krek sounded disgusted with Lan for missing such an obvious idea.
" Waldron?"
" Of course, Waldron. The grey king. The man they all call Saviour. But what matters all this to a dried- up husk of his former self? I am useless. My mate seeks to devour me, and I flee. So craven of me! How can I bear the shame when my hatchlings discover I have not been properly cocooned to feed them? Poor Klawn must capture millions of tiny insects for them instead of giving them my plump, cocooned body. I am a failed spider, failed utterly and beyond redemption."
Lan allowed Krek to pity himself without human intervention. He had much to consider. This Waldron would be the logical one to order the release of Velika and Inyx. All he had to do was find the base of operations and talk with him. Even ruthless conquerors listened with a knife at their throats.
To regain Velika, Lan Martak was willing to barter with forty demons from the Lower Places.
" The rain' s over, Krek. Let' s get out of here." Lan pulled the silken cape tightly around his flanks. Although the rain had stopped sometime earlier, a razor- sharp wind from the north had been seeking out his naked flesh for hours. Exercise would help keep him warm, and what better way than walking toward his goal of freeing Velika from the grey- clad soldiers?
" You go, Lan Martak. I wish nothing more than to die here. Oh, why did they not leave you with a sword?"
" I wish they had, too, but for different reasons," said Lan grimly.
" You could have dispatched me and put me out of my horrid existence."
Lan decided the spider meant what he said about not budging from this spot. He wondered if threats would work. Deciding against such overt violence, he tried a different tack.
" Krek? Why don' t you help me get some clothing and a weapon? That' d help us both, according to your logic."
The spider raised his head, brown eyes softly unfocused. " How could such a bungler as I aid the likes of you?"
" You' re always pointing out how clumsy we humans are. Show me how good a spider really is."
" Hmmmm, yes, you are right this time. You are clumsier than the most spastic of spiders. My newest hatchlings show more coordination in their movements along the web. Even old Klork, the seven- legged spider living over in the Estaman Gorge, is better able to get around than you, it seems. Very well, I will help you in exchange for your aid later in dispatching me from this sorrow- filled world."
Lan marched off beside the spider, figuring on arguing later with Krek- after he was decently clothed and had a sword and dagger weighing heavily in each hand. The way Krek' s moods oscillated, the spider might talk himself out of suicide soon. The cheerful countryside, dotted with delicate flowers and flowing green ground vines, certainly perked up Lan' s flagging spirits. The rain cleansed the air and left it sweet and heady. The porous ground sucked up the fallen water and left only dust, so that their path wasn' t through the mud of the bog world. Most of all, Lan enjoyed being able to survey the sprawling country dotted with stands of forest and know that none pursued him.
Rather, he had become the hunter. The grey- clads had left him for dead; they wasted no time hunting corpses. He was free to work as he saw fit until the proper moment for attack. And that moment had to include freeing Velika. Unbidden, Lan' s hand went to his lips and ran along them, remembering the feel of the woman' s soft kiss, the tears burning his flesh. His breathing came harder, and his hand trembled slightly in anticipation. As he ran over various scenarios in his head, his spirits rose to dizzying heights.
Krek sensed this.
" I fail to understand the workings of that thing you humans call a brain. How one such as yourself can be beaten senseless, robbed of valued treasure- from my web trove, yet- and your paramour whisked away, then laugh and sing afterward, is a total mystery."
" You think you have problems understanding us?" Lan laughed out loud. " If I live to be a hundred, I' ll never understand you."
" I am a hundred, and then some," mused Krek. " You are right. If you did live as long as I have, you would not appreciate us spiders." This satisfied something in the arachnid' s twisted mentality, for he began loping along with the spring in his gait that Lan remembered so well from the time they had entered the Egrii Mountains.
Krek suddenly stopped and dug his claws deep into the soft earth until he found bedrock. He " listened" for a moment, then announced, " Soldiers come this way."
" How many?"
" Enough" was all Krek said. He sank to the ground alongside the road, appearing to be nothing more than a small dark hillock. Lan found a tiny culvert and draped the silk cape over his shoulders, then camouflaged himself with a few strategically placed branches and leaves. They waited less than five minutes before a pair of horsemen galloping hard came into view.
One sported the grey of a soldier under the banner of Waldron, while the other dressed in gaudy, flowing layers of silk, the garb of a member of the merchant class. Lan didn' t care about the quality of the man' s clothing, as his interest lay in arming himself. Both men sported swords and daggers. And protruding from one' s swordbelt was the butt of a wheel lock pistol identical to those carried on Lan' s home world. He watched the men carefully,
frowning. The one carrying the pistol wasn' t of Lan' s world. Lan waved his hand to signal Krek that he planned to attack as the pair galloped by.
Lan had no chance to mount his attack. Krek' s bulk blasted from concealment and bowled over the soldier' s horse. The frightened animal struggled to its feet and raced off, minus its rider. The merchant' s horse reared and vainly pawed the air to fend off the giant spider. Krek pounced, and two savage slashes of his mandibles left the horse bleeding on the ground, more dead than alive.
Lan hastened to the fallen soldier and discovered Krek had already done his work for him. A broken neck ensured that this man would never again lift a sword. Lan dragged out the knife sheathed at the soldier' s belt and turned to face the merchant. It became readily apparent the man had no desire to fight.
On his knees, he begged, " Master, call off your demon! I am sinless! Don' t steal my worthless, pitiable soul! I am too good for such a vile fate. I-"
" Silence!" roared Lan. The man blanched, then fell, touching his forehead repeatedly to the ground at Lan' s unshod feet. He wanted to laugh but decided avenging angels didn' t make sport of their victims in that manner.
" Strip. I want your clothes."
" Please, master! They forced me into the service of King Waldron. I was only a poor merchant on the bleak world, struggling for a living. King Waldron came and seduced me away with tales of riches, tales of people eating regularly. I was weak. He convinced me I should do his bidding and come to this world. Believe me that I didn' t want all those gold coins they demanded I take for-"
" Silence, I said," he snapped again. " And get those clothes off. I might decide that is recompense enough for your sins." Lan didn' t have to hear all the merchant' s garbled confession to know the man was greedy and had probably done worse in his day than steal clothing needed to cover nakedness. If anything, this man probably had sold the clothes and jewels already taken from Lan by the grey- clads. He had the air of the illicit about him.
Somehow, Krek' s looming bulk added speed to the merchant' s fingers as he disrobed.
" How do I look, Krek?" asked Lan, pirouetting to display the gaudy, flowing clothing stolen from the merchant. The thin material billowed out from his lean body and lent an air of massiveness to him that wasn' t his. In spite of the fine clothing, he kept the silk cape spun for him by Krek. Never had he found a garment so light and warm. The heavy sword swinging at his side comforted him, too. The body of the fallen soldier was neatly covered in the culvert after he had stripped it of the weapons he wanted. The wheel lock pistol felt hard and firm and substantial in his fist- and it gave a poignant reminder of his lost home. The sheathed knife completed his armament. While he could hardly fight off an entire army, he felt plucky enough to handle anything up to a company.
The spider crouched down and came close to looking him in the eye. His only comment was " The coarse weave of the fabric offends my craftsman' s sensibilities."
Lan laughed. That was the best he could expect from the spider. If Krek hadn' t commented in a sarcastic fashion, it would have bordered on a miracle.
" Very well, Krek, your opinion' s duly noted. Now let' s set off and find some that will be less objectionable to you- and less gaudy for me."
Krek let out a screech that made Lan jump. He had anticipated some bit of sarcasm, but not outright fear. He spun to face another arachnid fully half his height taller than Krek. Lan didn' t have to be told that this was " the lovely Klawn." He read it in Krek' s horrified response. Instinct guided him.
His blade flashed wickedly in the sunlight as he drew and slashed at the female spider' s legs.
Agilely, she leaped and avoided his sword. She simply ignored him in her single- minded drive to get to Krek, now cowering beside the road and blubbering incoherently. Lan wished the spider would at least attempt to defend himself, but knew this might be impossible under the circumstances. He didn' t blame his spider friend for not wishing to attack his mate; such behavior was frowned upon in most human cultures, Lan had found, and the consequences in the spider' s culture appeared even more dire.
" Klawn, you are too good for me," whimpered Krek. He might have been a beaten child, so high and thin and tremulous sounded his voice. Lan didn' t hesitate in reinitiating his attack. The sword resheathed, he dived forward and tackled the back two legs, giving impetus to Klawn' s attack. The spider overcompensated and tumbled down in a furry pile of legs and snapping mandibles.
Lan writhed around to avoid the ominous crashing of those serrated death scythes above his head. He knew better than to release his hold on the hind legs. Allowing Klawn mobility meant death. He pulled upward on the legs held tightly in the circle of his brawny arms as he rolled to one side and snared still another leg. With three of the giant spider' s legs under his control, he found it relatively easy to capture a fourth. Klawn kicked and fought but failed to reach and devour Krek, as her mating ritual demanded.
" Get me some rope, dammit!" flared Lan, struggling to maintain his grip. " I' m going to tie her up!"
" Oh, Klawn, my precious darling, please believe I was not in my right mind. I do not know what possessed me to rush from your fond embrace. I-"
" Krek! Get me a rope!"
This shook Krek from his fright long enough to see what his human friend attempted. With ponderous movement, he plucked a lariat from the pile of discarded possessions taken from the merchant and his soldier guard. As if the rope might burn him, Krek gingerly tossed it to Lan. The human continued cursing under his breath, inventing new tortures and destinations as well as finding increasingly improbable conjugal possibilities, while he looped the rope around Klawn' s four back legs. Then he went to work grabbing and securing the front legs. It took him the better part of fifteen minutes, but he finally hogtied Krek' s bride in such a way that she couldn' t easily get those razoredged mandibles back to snip through the rope- or him.
" Let' s race the wind, Krek, before she gets loose."
" Yes, let us make haste," the spider agreed. " And thank you, Lan Martak, for not injuring her." He vented a gusty sigh as he added, " Is she not the most lovely creature in all the world? Such fine legs, such lovely fur adorning them."
" She' s certainly got enough legs," Lan said, remembering the chitinous claws tipping each one.
" That she has," said Krek with a sigh, longingly peering backward at the still- struggling Klawn.
Lan spurred the stolen horse to a full gallop and let Krek try to match the pace as well he could. He had little time for the lovesick spider or the oversized Klawn. All that mattered to him centered on recapturing Velika- and proving to her that he wasn' t the wastrel and fool she had seen in the village and after.
His hand brushed over his lips. The sting of her tears remained.
" I don' t believe it," he said, awestruck. The huge castle battlements reared up two hundred yards before ripping the sky apart with crenelations of obsidian. He dug his heels into his horse' s flanks until he braced himself enough to reach out and touch the wall. Slagged glass slid under his fingers. Using the point of his dagger, he thrust directly against the translucent material. Blue sparks danced away, leaving the stone with only a tiny cicatrice.
" A house adequate for a king," observed Krek, crouching down while Lan continued his explorations at the base of the wall.
" Adequate isn' t the word. This place could withstand a generation- long attack and still remain unscathed. But there has to be a way in. No matter how well contrived a structure, there is always some unforeseen way in."
" Human philosophy?" asked Krek. " I can conceive of structures with but one means of ingress. Why, in the Egrii Mountains, I once spun this fabulously intricate web- trap capable of holding a snow bear. It held so well I failed repeatedly to get the carcass out. The bear finally rotted away in the silken prison."
" How interesting," Lan said dryly. " What' s that have to do with getting inside the castle and rescuing Velika?"
" Nothing," answered the spider.<
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Irritated, Lan guided the horse around the tower of glass until he found an observation point where he could spy on the people coming and going from the castle. The huge drawbridge lowered to cross a chasm fully fifteen yards wide. The cunning series of switchbacks immediately after crossing the bridge cancelled any plan he might have of charging the gate while it was down and storming the castle before the grey- clad soldiers responded. By the time he' d clear the second inner wall, even their dead could have been summoned to pick him off with their firearms, all of which looked as if they' d been imported from his home world. And none of the soldiers appeared lackluster in performing his duty. They paced their posts with an intentness that made Lan wonder at the punishment for falling asleep on patrol. But there had to be some way of sneaking in, if only he could find it. No amount of wishful thinking discounted the brilliantly colored hot- air balloon tethered just outside the drawbridge, either. An army could be seen, as well as a lone individual, from its dangling basket. Lan cursed the military mind that had invented the aerial spy.
Krek lumbered up beside him and studied the terrain. Finally the giant spider declared, " You might steal the balloon and float into the castle."
Lan' s hope surged anew. Single- handedly attack the balloon and kick open its burners to lift over the walls of the castle? This appeared the only path open to him, dangerous as it was. All other surreptitious or overt routes had been guarded against with the thoughtful cunning of a paranoid mind.
" Do you really think I can sneak under the balloon, crawl up the anchor line, kill the guards, and then float upward and over the wall?" he asked.
" No," was all the answer he got.
He turned bitter.
" Then why did you even mention it?"
" I simply wanted to present yet another method of gaining entry."
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