Inyx had accurately cast her knife, saving Lan still another time. He didn' t have time to thank her, except by joining against the three men she held at swordpoint. Her skill was great, but their lunges were longer, their attacks appearing to snake from impossible distances.
" Here goes nothing!" she cried, then heaved herself into the trio. She slashed the legs from under one, and the other two stumbled under her weight. Lan had no time for a chivalrous fight. Seated on a throne to the right of Waldron, who calmly watched the slaughter, was Velika.
Lan pledged the first death for her. And the next.
Inyx spun and gave the final death stroke to the remaining soldier vainly trying to get his slashed leg under him to continue the fight.
Sword dripping gore, Lan walked to stand before the throne.
" I have come for her," he said simply.
Waldron' s eyebrows rose a trifle and he laughed. " You came for her? That' s rich. I thought you lusted after the secret of the Kinetic Sphere. Or possibly just a few trinkets to amuse you on wintry evenings. But her?" His laughter annoyed Lan; then he took a firmer hold on his emotions. Waldron was expert at manipulating public sentiment; he knew the precise method to needle Lan, make him act without thinking, and thus kill him the more easily.
" Fight or die where you sit, scum!"
" Very well, put that way, I can hardly deny you the right of dying. I had really hoped to avoid this unpleasantness. Would a few carts of gold and jewels buy you off?"
" You try to bribe me? Why do you stay here? If I were you, I' d' ve been long gone. Or at least ensconced in a safe place with troops to protect me."
" Protection from my own people is the last thing I need. My vassals are content, having more to eat than ever in the history of our world. Why do you think I offer you worthless jewels? You cannot eat pretty silicates. My people need only food- and that I give them, along with hope for a better future. As for my troops, they are scavenging the countryside for food even now to offset the bitter winter wearing down half my world. If you had not forced your way through the artificial gateway, I, too, would be out importuning this world' s peasants for charity. But alas, no, I must stay to deal with you."
" Charity! You steal and then force them to call it charity?"
Waldron' s expression flowed from a dark scowl to bemusement. " I don' t know what you mean. Yes, I subdue those who oppose me, but I never kill wantonly or steal food from the mouths of those who sorely need it. I am the Saviour of my world and the conqueror of this. Treacherous behavior would cause the people to demand my head- and get it!"
" I demand your head for the vile things you' ve done to my world."
Lan Martak remembered lovely Zarella and his half- sister Suzarra and how Kyn- alLyk- Surepta, in the name of Waldron Ravensroost, had slain them. The old sheriff was living out his days watching the greyclad soldiers slowly extort power from him. And that was a world with only the barest of toeholds. What of the others?
And Lan could never forgive Waldron for what he had done to Velika.
He had lost Zarella to Waldron' s men. He would not lose Velika to Waldron.
" I demand your head!" raged Lan, his blade slashing in the air, scattering red droplets of blood before him.
" Really, you are the one who should apologize," said Waldron, his voice level. " You kill my best generals, come raging through like a berserk pard, and now you demand the- gods- alone- know- what."
As he spoke, Waldron reached beside him and lifted a small wooden case. One side hinged upward. Waldron lifted the door to expose a desiccated skull inside.
" Good- bye," said Waldron, smiling wickedly. He thumped the back of the box.
Lan watched in frozen awe as the skull impossibly opened empty eyes. In the hollows, dull red coals began to smoulder, then burn, and finally take on a fire that dazzled him, that set his magic- sensing ability screaming. He instinctively rolled to one side to escape the incandescent path of that gaze.
The table behind him vanished with a dull whoof! Lan Martak kept rolling as Waldron followed him around the room. The twin beams from the skull' s eyesockets removed object after object from the throne room. It became immediately apparent to Lan that simply hiding behind some massive piece of furniture wouldn' t save his hide.
In mute fascination, he watched, helpless, as Waldron swung the box around and lifted it to bring the dual beams of ruby destruction in line with the floor in front of him. The floor simply vanished. As Waldron raised the box to point directly at Lan, Inyx moved. Her dagger cartwheeled through the air and thudded into the meaty portion of Waldron' s upper left arm.
The box containing the skull fell to the floor, the lid snapping shut as it hit. The double beams of death winked out of existence.
Cold rage clouded Waldron' s face as he clumsily pulled his sword from its sheath. Blood ran in a steady torrent down his left arm, then slowed, and finally coagulated.
" If the sorcerer' s skull isn' t enough to dispatch you, then by all the gods, my sword will prove more than adequate. Die, dog meat, die!"
Waldron' s lunge missed Lan by a wide margin.
The would- be Saviour of the grey, dismal world silently sidestepped Lan' s steely reply and settled into an en- garde position, obviously composing himself after the initial wild rush. All the years of training stood Lan Martak in good stead. He did not wildly attack.
Faint magical emanations came from Waldron' s sword. His blade carried a spell locked to its metal. Magic seemed a rare commodity outside of Lan' s world, but none had used it as well as Waldron. The Kinetic Sphere, the deadly skull in the box, now this unknown sword and its mysterious qualities.
" I see you realize the nature of the blade you face." Waldron executed a stylish lunge that took Lan by surprise. He parried thin air and felt the razored edge slice his arm. Yet his parry had been directed in line at the precise point needed for riposte. Again and again he missed his parry by a hair' s- breadth.
" Surrender and I will allow you and those two passage along the Road. Refuse and I' ll cut your manhood off!"
" The word of one such as you is worthless," flared Lan. He settled down to an increasingly defensive fight as he tried to understand the nature of the weapon he faced. Slowly, as new and deeper wounds opened on his torso and arms, he came to the conclusion that the blade emitted a distortion field around itself, causing him to subtly misjudge the true position of the sword. A few parries confirmed this, but his magical training was insufficient to allow him to conjure a counter- spell, even if he hadn' t been actively fighting for his life.
He glanced around to see how Inyx and Krek fared. They were locked in battle in the far corner of the room, fending off a half- dozen grey- clad soldiers. The battle between him and Waldron was a solitary one; he knew he could expect no help from Velika, who sat on the throne, her eyes wide and a lily- soft hand clutched at her throat.
Lan kept hoping that the wound in Waldron' s left arm would impede him. It didn' t. The flow of blood had stopped totally now. It hurt, of that Lan Martak had no doubt, but Waldron was a skilled swordsman and no doubt pushed such minor annoyances from his mind until afterward.
But the very use of a spell sword meant that Waldron depended more heavily on trick than skill. Gambling on his own skill, Lan closed his eyes and " felt" the steel blades as they slashed at one another. Depending on feel rather than sight allowed him to react by instinct, using a quick disengage, a beat, and a powerful follow- through.
Lan' s blade pressed firmly into Waldron' s throat. Waldron attempted to bring his dagger into play, but the wounded left arm hindered him. Lan' s leg snaked out around Waldron' s, and a quick kick landed the man on his back. The spell sword fell from his grip. Lan kept his point at Waldron' s throat as he picked up the other' s magical blade.
" It pleases me to kill you with your own sword." He pulled back for the stroke, only to have Velika hang on his arm and prevent him from a clean kill.
" Stop, Lan, don' t do
this! He' s a great man. He isn' t the tyrant you believe him to be."
" He' s tried to kill me at every turn. And look how he' s ensorcelled you. For that alone I' ll kill him!"
" I love him, I truly do!" Velika cast a tearful glance down at Waldron, then pulled with greater urgency on Lan' s sword arm. " I beg you to spare him." Tears flowed freely. Lan pulled away from her, the sight of those tears making him uneasy. Velika was obviously torn between them, the freebooter and the warlord, and had made her choice, no matter how painful it had been for her. Or Lan.
Lan' s sword rose. He felt the acid tingle of her tears as they dropped onto his hand. He actually cringed away, his resolve to kill Waldron gone.
" Spare him," came Inyx' s advice. " He does seem to have the best for his own people at heart, even if his methods are extreme."
Inyx came and stood beside Lan, her sword dripping the blood of the fallen grey- clad soldiers.
" Even after he enslaved you, you beg for his life?" Lan asked, astonished.
" Would you have done so differently in his place?"
" Of course!"
" Remember the grinding poverty on his home world. And there are no cenotaphs off. He needed the Kinetic Sphere."
" I, too, vote to spare his life. Without his knowledge of the operation of the Kinetic Sphere," said Krek, " we might never ascertain the proper ways of activating it." Krek' s advice was sound.
" Your life," said Lan Martak, " is still in my hands. Tell us how to use the Kinetic Sphere, or I will kill you."
" No," said Waldron adamantly. " That is the sole possession of any value on my bleak world. There is no other way off that grey, spinning ball of sludge. I hold a heritage that must be preserved, even if it means my death."
" Then die!"
" Lan, please! I' ll tell you how to operate it." Velika' s frenzied tone convinced Lan that the woman knew and wasn' t merely using this as a ploy to add a few extra seconds to Waldron' s life. " I' ll show you all you need to know!"
" Velika, you can' t!"
" Waldron, I must. If it means your life, I will do anything!"
Lan laughed harshly. " Your spell binding her to you is fading, Waldron. Velika returns to her old self. She' d do anything to help me- and prevent me from further bloodying my hands."
Inyx snorted disdainfully, and Krek said, " I will bind him, friend Lan Martak." A gurgling noise followed by a hiss, and sticky strand after strand of silken web stuff cocooned Waldron. The more he struggled, the more he entangled himself.
" You can' t take the Sphere. You can' t!" he yelled, furious at Velika. " I love you, but if I were free, I' d gladly strangle you to prevent this theft. My world needs it! Millions will starve without it!"
" Come along," said Lan, nudging Velika toward the corridor leading to the chamber holding the Kinetic Sphere. " The sooner we' re gone, the better I' ll like it." As Lan sheathed the ensorcelled weapon at his side, he heard a thin, reedy voice cry out.
" Take me, too! Take me along with you! I can show you wonders undreamed of in your feeble fantasies."
" Lan," said Inyx softly, her hand on his arm. " The box spoke!"
" Leave it!" snapped Waldron. " It means your death to touch it."
" You' d love to see me dead," said Lan. " The box means something more."
" I created the Kinetic Sphere. He imprisoned me in here. Take me with you!"
Lan hefted the box containing the sorcerer' s skull. Gingerly, he opened the lid, making sure the empty eyesockets were pointed at a distant section of the room. The twin ruby beacons did not shine forth. Instead, the jaw hinge of the skull twitched slightly.
But the words Lan heard were as plain as if spoken by flesh and blood lips.
" I am Claybore. He stole my Kinetic Sphere. I conjured it; he saw and coveted it as I passed through his dismal world. He stole my creation!"
Lan glanced quickly at Waldron, still struggling in his silk coffin. He believed Waldron capable of any deed, including one as perfidious as this. The fallen Saviour- king would have killed off entire worlds to feed his own. The death of a single sorcerer meant nothing to him.
" Claybore, eh? I' ve heard the name. But you' re not from Waldron' s world?"
" No! I am from: a great distance away, even when reckoned by the Sphere. Take me with you and I shall explain the workings of it."
" He lies. His treachery forced me to-"
" Silence!" shouted Lan. He didn' t doubt Waldron was capable of any treachery, but the sight of the virtually fleshless skull unnerved him. He remembered the beams of destruction leaping from those hollowed eyesockets and wondered at the truth.
" We' ll take you along, Claybore," said Lan, snapping the lid closed on the box. " And we' ll talk later."
He heard the words of thanks, although he knew that the throat of the long- dead sorcerer was separated from the skull by an infinity of worlds.
" Tell us about the Kinetic Sphere, Velika," he demanded. " Quickly. The grey- clad soldiers hammer at the doors again." Already, outside the doors barred by Inyx and Krek, more of the grey- clad soldiers hammered to gain entry.
" This way," she said, her voice strained and her eyes downcast. " It is another way into the chamber holding the Sphere. It' s Waldron' s private passage." They raced along a corridor opening into the throne room and soon entered the chamber containing the Kinetic Sphere. It lay like a pink, pulsating pearl in a bed of black velvet. World after world spun by in a never- ending parade inside the crystalline depths, and Lan had to force his attentions back to Velika and this world. It would be difficult abandoning the Road, but for Velika he' d make the sacrifice.
Yet so much lurked just an arm' s length away:.
" Y- you need only allow the worlds to pass in review. When you see one you want, simply say," and she chanted a complex rhyme, mnemonics for the key words needed to freeze the gateway on the desired world. Lan had her repeat the rhyme several times until he was sure he had learned it, then asked of Krek and Inyx, " Sufficient?"
" I can remember," said Inyx simply.
" A child' s verse in its simplicity," Krek assured him. " Why, we spiders carry our entire heritage in vastly more complex word patterns, not being able to write, you see. I can recite-"
" Thanks, Krek, later." Then Lan remembered that there wouldn' t be a later time with the spider. And they' d been through so much together. But he' d not signed any document stating life would be full of simple decisions. Velika, as soon as Waldron' s hold on her diminished, would prove a far more loving companion than the egotistical, weakness- proclaiming spider.
" How is the shimmering curtain of the Road itself summoned?" asked Inyx, eyeing the world chosen in the globe.
" I do not know," said Velika.
" It is merely another chant," came the strong, baritone resonance of Claybore' s voice. " This one."
" And the cancellation?" asked Inyx.
The rhyme Claybore chanted burned in Lan' s mind, and he saw in it a palindrome. The symmetry of the spell fascinated him, gave him clues to the innermost workings of the universe itself. To have the knowledge to construct such a device drew him. And it was all Claybore' s. And Claybore' s head rested in the box under Lan' s arm.
" Carry the Sphere with you through the curtain simply by reciting the spell on the far side. It: it slips through," said the decapitated sorcerer.
" Lan," cried Velika, clutching again at his arm.
" He- it- has shown you all you need to know. Now give me my freedom as you promised."
" What?" he said, stunned by the request. " I said I' d spare Waldron' s life. Don' t you want to stay with me?"
" Why? To stumble along in the darkness of that cursed Road of yours, to allow the fleas to enjoy gourmet dining on my flesh, to be cold and hungry and miserable? I never loved you, Lan, not the way I love Waldron. He' s kind and-"
" And powerful and rich," interjected Inyx. " It seems the minx worships power more than freedom."
" Yes, yes
, that' s true," raged Velika. " I love the power being Waldron' s consort gives me. Why shouldn' t I? A lifetime of deprivation is at an end. He rules seven worlds and will rule a dozen more! Take the Kinetic Sphere and leave us!"
Krek began to point out the logical inconsistency in Velika' s statement, but Inyx cut him short.
" Lan. You heard her wish. Will you join Krek and me now?"
" She' s under a spell. Come, Velika, come with us and away from the evil spell that steals your mind and emotion."
" I will see your liver drying in the sun, animal- lover!" came the snarled threat from Waldron. The strands of silk web- stuff still clung to his arms and sides, but he had done a rough, thorough job of cutting his bindings with a tiny knife.
Lan started to draw his blade, but Velika hung on his arm and prevented him from carrying out his bloody desire. He turned to her and, eyes blazing angrily, spat out, " You' re under no spell, are you? You willingly desire to be with Waldron." It sounded like an insult the way he said it, but Velika took the meaning differently.
" You finally understand, you bumpkin fool! Waldron' s a thousand times the man you claim to be." The triumph in her eyes as she went to Waldron infuriated Lan Martak. Something inside him burst, and he attacked in the worst way he could.
Words flowed from his lips, and the Kinetic Sphere glowed brightly, solidifying the gateway onto Waldron' s grey, dismally appointed world. Lan' s fist smashed hard into Waldron' s face, the nose breaking under the impact. He then threw the man back into his own world, a blaze of light throughout the curtain signalling Waldron' s precipitous return.
" I' ll follow and kill you for this, scum!" screamed Waldron from the other side of the energy curtain, blood spurting over his entire face from the damaged nose. " My entire life has been for the betterment of my world, and you' ve taken away the only chance for our survival."
" Waldron!" cried Velika, who stumbled forward, following the path just taken by the lord of the grey world.
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