“There will be more,” Lan told Iron Tongue. “I can’t stop it all. Even with Rugga’s help, I can’t. I doubt the full power of those remaining can hold Claybore off indefinitely.”
“You may prove too weak. I will not. I am Iron Tongue, ruler of Wurnna.” He threw his head back and laughed, the rolling guffaws mocking the very sky.
And as if offended, the sky retaliated.
Huge boulders fell from above, dropping onto buildings, smashing people and roads and anything else in their way.
“What’s he doing now? Stop them, Lan. Nullify Claybore’s spells.”
“I can’t, Inyx. Those are real. Claybore, or one of his pet mages, propels the rock magically, but the rocks are real. Too real.”
Tiredness assailed him. He felt his knees shaking in reaction to the enormous powers that he had tapped, that he had allowed to flow through him. Lan knew k’Adesina had finally scaled the cliffs and established the sharpened edges of the pincer closing on Wurnna. Unless those heights were retaken, all would die within the city.
“The rockets, man, use the rockets.” Rugga tugged at Iron Tongue’s arm.
“There aren’t any more. The last of the projectiles was used this afternoon.” Iron Tongue appeared confused. “We… we can use the power stone from the streets. Rip it from the building foundations: Let the spires fall. We have enough.”
Lan shook his head. What Iron Tongue advocated would take months of hard work. The power stone had become an integral part of the city, strong enough for building purposes but too diffuse magically for real defensive work.
“Another! Duck!”
A boulder twice the size of the first crashed into the center of the city. Shock waves raced outward. Even if the destruction to life and property hadn’t been so severe, the falling rock would have taken its toll. Few inside the walls would fight if they were demoralized and fearful. Soon enough the mere thought of the empty sky would work its horror on them—every instant would be spent in dread of still another missile from heaven.
“We can’t last a day like this,” moaned Jacy Noratumi. He took Rugga’s hand and pulled her close.
“You must,” said Lan. “You must!” Even as he spoke he knew the city’s life was numbered only in hours unless something was done to thwart the dismembered mage. The attack came from too many directions, both physical and magical. He needed to blunt one of those prongs before success could be achieved. He silently motioned to Inyx and Krek and they slipped away. Only one course of action suggested itself. It might be a fool’s mission, but they had to try.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rocks exploded like newborn suns throughout Wurnna. Even when Iron Tongue and his few remaining mages began the chants, made the spells, exerted all the power possible, the rain of stony death continued. Eventually the barrage stopped, not because of their action, but for lack of projectiles high atop the mountains.
“We have conquered them!” shrieked Iron Tongue, one fist waving at the sky. The other sorcerers backed away from their leader, shaking their heads. They knew the truth. They had failed; only fate had intervened in their behalf. Most of Wurnna lay in ruin. Left in command, Iron Tongue would soon allow all of it to be smashed into oblivion.
None questioned his right to rule. None dared oppose his wishes. None wanted the full force of his persuasive powers turned against him. Through the years they had seen strong men throw themselves on their swords at Iron Tongue’s command. Women had ripped the throats from their infants because he had ordered it done. The voice—the Voice—was too strong. Even if he were insane, he ruled Wurnna.
Lan Martak saw and accepted this, but he drew aside Inyx and a few of the others for a quiet conference.
“When Claybore’s troops get enough rock assembled again, the barrage will annihilate us. How long do you think it’ll take to get the rocks assembled? Noratumi? Rugga?”
Jacy Noratumi glanced up at the heights and shuddered.
“This place,” he said, “should never have been built here. Why mages thought it could be defended is beyond me.”
“We defended it well until Claybore came along,” said Rugga, an edge to her voice. “We were many and strong. None scaled the heights without feeling the full force of our magics. And if we weakened, Iron Tongue urged climbers to simply step off to their death.”
Noratumi shook his head. All read his expression: A poor way to defend a city.
“You’ve not done so well protecting your own city-state,” added Rugga.
“Bickering won’t help,” said Inyx. “We need action. Lan thinks the spiders might aid us.”
“Never,” scoffed Noratumi. “We need action, all right. We need to put a sword through the heart of every grey-clad bastard on those mountain slopes.”
“He’s right. The spiders will never leave their valley, even if they held any good feeling for us. Which they don’t.” Rugga’s voice almost broke with emotion. She stared over the stony crenelation along the walkway and down the valley where all prior attacks had been mounted. Now only smouldering pits formed by the power stone rockets scarred the land. Claybore’s troops had withdrawn beyond the effective range of Iron Tongue’s Voice and let their numbers on the mountains do their work.
“Might I make a suggestion?” piped up Krek. “While I am most doubtful of assistance from Murrk, it can do no harm to inquire of him. Also, friend Jacy Noratumi is accurate in his appraisal of the situation. Continued rock-throwing will destroy the city long before any rescue might be made by my fellow arachnids.”
“So?”
“I propose we follow both schemes. One group scales the peaks, an easy task it seems to me, and removes the elevated danger. Force Claybore to send reinforcements. In that time, Lan might have persuaded Murrk to send aid.”
Lan Martak thought it over. He ran fingers through his matted, dirty brown hair and absently wiped the grease and grime he encountered on his tunic. His mind sailed ahead, considering the options.
“Krek’s right. Claybore is using a minimal amount of effort to destroy Wurnna. We’ve got to make him work harder if he wants to take us out.”
“He cannot have many mages,” said Rugga. “And he cannot do all this by himself.”
“That’s an avenue, also. Those remaining in Wurnna might attack at the periphery of Claybore’s power, finding his assistants and badgering them. Drive them from their tasks, make them waver and be uncertain. Inyx, you and Jacy try the cliffs. Stop k’Adesina and her soldiers. Krek and I’ll try to make it to the valley and back with some help.”
Lan swallowed hard after he said this. Sending Inyx out with Jacy tore him in different directions. Emotionally he disliked the idea of their being together, fighting together, depending on one another, but he knew they forged the strongest team for the assault. His dealings with Krek and the spiders made him the most likely candidate for presenting the humans’ case. Krek was his friend, but he didn’t trust the arachnid to make the strongest case possible for the humans; Krek’s thought processes often took bizarre turnings.
“Let Krek go alone. Stay in the city and aid us, Lan.” Rugga’s fingers tightened on his sleeve. He saw the game she played. If he wanted to send Inyx out with Noratumi, then they could remain together.
“We do it as I outlined.” He saw momentary tears well in Inyx’s eyes, then they vanished as she stiffened to her task. In less than a minute she and Noratumi had left to find a small band of trustworthy fighters able to climb and fight.
“Krek? Let’s go.”
“Take me with you, then, Lan.” Rugga’s grip tightened on his arm until the fingers dug into his flesh. He placed his hand gently atop hers.
“Wurnna needs defending. Your place is here. If we can save this city, we will.”
“And if you can’t?”
“I’ll be back for you.” He was taken aback by the intensity of her kiss. His lips tingled and his head spun as he pulled away and left Rugga on the battlement.
At the postern gate,
Krek finally spoke.
“You humans do have the strangest mating rituals.”
Lan said nothing. At that instant he would have gladly traded Krek and a million spiders for the chance to accompany Inyx and fight beside her once again. The gate slammed behind them with grim finality. He turned and once again traversed the tunnel through the mountains.
“This narrow draw,” Inyx said slowly. “It looks suspiciously dangerous to me.”
Noratumi stopped and motioned for the twenty warriors with them to halt. Silently he studied the vee-cut in the rock. Inyx lightly touched his arm and pointed. Tiny growths dotted the top of the rock with their spiny stalks.
“It grows naturally in the mountains,” he said. “I see nothing.”
“I don’t see anything. I feel it.”
“You’re no mage.”
“I don’t have to be a mage, dammit!” she flared. “Being in enough fights makes you sensitive to situations that are wrong. I smell a trap ahead.”
“It’s a good place,” he agreed, “but I think you’re wrong. We’re wasting time. Any trouble we encounter will be at their base camp at the foot of the cliffs.”
Inyx held back as Noratumi signaled for an advance. She took aside one of the archers and whispered in his ear. His face contorted in a mixture of fear and confusion, but he did as she ordered. He nocked an arrow and waited.
The trap was sprung almost immediately when the lead scout entered the notch in the rocks. The spiny plants she had noticed erupted out and downward. The scout had lightning-swift reflexes. His sword flashed out and speared the plant on his left. The one falling from the right skewered his arm. His agonized shriek pierced the cold silence of the mountain range.
The man turned and thrashed about, vainly struggling to pull free the plant. He was dead before his fingers even closed about the stalk.
“Poison,” said Inyx, not in the least happy that she’d been vindicated. The archer pulled and released in a smooth motion. His arrow caught another clump of poisoned spine weed in midair, knocking it from its path toward Noratumi’s head.
Jacy Noratumi backpedaled quickly, avoiding another flight of the deadly plants.
“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 investig
ate. 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.
[Cenotaph Road 04] - Iron Tongue Page 17
