Krull

painful gasps, each lungful the result of an agonizing battle his chest waged with the air. He gave silent thanks his course was all downhill.

Night creatures scampered clear of his legs or emerged from their hiding places to watch curiously as he stumbled onward. He could feel his strength leaving him even as the grains of sand trickled through his clenched fingers. He needed no such visual metaphors to know that precious little time remained. As she'd promised, Lyssa had drawn on his own reserves to keep the spider from him until he was clear of the cave. Those reserves could not be replaced. He was too old for rejuvenations.

How much farther could it be? He'd had the forest in sight for some time now, but mountain air and distances were ever deceiving, the more so on this night because of the size of the trees that formed the giant woods. He could feel the energy ebbing from his body. Despite the nearness of death he was calm. He'd been looking forward to greeting that old fakir for a long time.

But not until he'd imparted to Colwyn the vital information obtained at so high a price.

His legs felt rubbery and twice he nearly stumbled. I'm not going to make it, he thought sadly. Everything's been for naught: Lyssa's sacrifice, my own, the long journey from Eirig, all the old plans and hopes. But I have to make it. Colwyn's got to know.

Suddenly there were strong arms, young arms, supporting his own, easing his pale, trembling body to the ground. He blinked away the sweat, saw Colwyn standing over him staring anxiously down into his face. The thief Torquil stood nearby.

A good man, that Torquil, he mused. Strange how life forces both good men and bad into narrow corridors from which only extraordinary circumstances give them any opportunity to escape. If not for chance and accident, he and Torquil might have exchanged places in the scheme of things.

But not Colwyn. Colwyn's place had been carefully chosen.

He thought he detected a third figure lurking in the background but he couldn't be sure. It was growing darker by the minute. Even the stars were fading. He reached up and clutched Colwyn's jersey.

'At sunrise… at sunrise the Fortress will materialize in the Iron Desert. It will stay there until the following sunrise. You must reach it by then.'

Colwyn looked to Torquil. The bandit leader was shaking his head sadly. Colwyn had studied his geography well, while Torquil had much practical knowledge of it. Both knew they could not possibly cover such a distance in a single day and night.

Ynyr's hand tightened, pulling Colwyn close. 'You must reach it there or you will never find it again.'

Gently Colwyn loosened the old man's fingers and tried to make him relax. 'We'll reach it. Have no fear of that. And you'll be with us, to guide and counsel me.'

Ynyr slowly shook his head. Everything was happening too quickly now. 'No. My race is run.' He twisted to gesture feebly at the weapon that hung from Colwyn's belt. 'Remember all I have told you about the glaive. It does not make you invincible, but it is the second most powerful weapon remaining to the people of Krull. Use its power wisely. Do not squander it. When it is gone it cannot be restored.'

'I've learned of power and its uses from you, Ynyr. I won't forget.'

'And I've learned a little more of life from you. A hermit's existence facilitates study but the intensity of one's focus creates a narrow vision.' He lifted his head slightly to look past Colwyn to Torquil. 'You chose men I would not have chosen, but they were the right men.' Torquil shifted uneasily at the compliment.

Ynyr's eyes locked with Colwyn's. 'There is much I should have told you, many things you deserve to know that I saw fit to withhold from you. Now you must learn them for yourself. The time of teaching is past.'

Frustration filled Colwyn's face. 'I don't understand.'

'You will. You must. Your marriage…' He drew in a wheezing breath. 'Your marriage to Lyssa was necessary;'

'Of course it was. The alliance between Eirig and Turold—'

Ynyr was shaking his head. 'No, no! Truly you do not understand, for which you cannot be blamed. So much was kept from you. It was necessary that you mature and reach decisions uncontaminated by too much knowledge. The marriage… you must rescue Lyssa!'

'I know. Just rest now.'

'No,' Ynyr said violently, 'you don't knowl You don't know that… that…' He hesitated, staring through Colwyn for a moment. Then his gaze dropped from Colwyn's face to his own right hand. There was a look of surprise on his face. He opened his fingers. When he spoke again, it was in the voice of a young man: 'The sand is gone.'

Colwyn looked. The night wind scattered the few remaining grains from the old man's palm. When he looked again into Ynyr's face, the wizened old eyes had closed for the last time.

He rose. There was no anger in him and less sorrow than he'd expected. Ynyr had chosen this moment, as surely as Colwyn had determined to marry Lyssa. He desperately wanted to know what the old man had been so frantic to impart before his passing. Now it seemed he would never know, unless…

'You must learn them for yourself,' Ynyr had said.

Torquil put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 'I understood very little of what he said, and I knew him not overlong, but for a wise man he seemed like a decent chap.'

'He was the wisest of the wise,' Colwyn muttered. 'I wish he had not chosen this course. I will miss him.'

'If you believe in his wisdom, then you won't stand here regretting its loss. You'll make use of it, as he instructed you to.' He glanced back toward the camp. 'I wish he'd been wise enough to tell us how we're supposed to get from here to the Iron Desert in a day and night.'

'We'll get there.' Colwyn's assurance was so palpable that Torquil elected not to argue the point further.

Instead he turned and started downhill. 'Then we'd better wake the others and get started. I haven't made a long run in a year. I don't know how many of the' others are in shape for such an attempt.'

'First we bury him.' Colwyn nodded toward the now peaceful form.

'We waste time, Colwyn.'

'No time spent on Ynyr the Wise is wasted.'

'Colwyn,' Torquil said evenly, 'Ynyr the Wise is dead.'

'His spirit will travel with us. I want that spirit laid to rest in comfort. First we bury him.'

Torquil sighed. 'As you command.'

Rell turned away from the sight. There was much he'd hoped to ask of the wise man. Now he would be denied that opportunity. That had always been his people's curse; failing to ask the right questions in time. Now there was only one opportunity left to him, and he had no intention of wasting it.

The cairn they raised above the grave was simple and devoid of decoration, as Ynyr would have wanted it. The old man had a horror of waste when he was alive.

Ergo spoke the words and for a change lived up to his sobriquet, the Magnificent. When he'd finished and the last rock had been piled in place, Colwyn turned his attention to Torquil.

'I did not mean to appear obstinate in this matter. Your concern is justified, of course. Has he died in vain? The Iron Desert is a thousand leagues away.'

Torquil was certainly no optimist by nature, but neither was he the kind of man to quietly accept defeat. 'We'd better get started. Perhaps we can somehow reach the place.'

'No man can cover that distance in a night and a day,' said Kegan. 'Not the greatest runner on all Krull could do it, and I am not he.'

'Nor am I,' added Colwyn, 'but we are bound to try. Perhaps we can find additional horses along the way.'

'Not even a horse could make such a journey,'

Rell stepped out of the brush, spoke quietly: 'No normal horse.' All eyes turned to him. 'But the fire-mares might do it. They do not run in the manner of normal steeds.'

'No, and they don't behave like normal steeds either,' Torquil snapped. 'No man has ever saddled a fire- mare.'

'Someone must always be first. I have saddled and ridden them. It can be done, though not for much more than a day. Longer than that and you lose the strength to hold on.'

'We would all have to have mounts,' Torquil continued to argue. 'What you suggest is impossible.'

'An impossible task confronts us; Rell proposes an impossible solution. I see no conflict there.' Colwyn turned