Lan Martak continued to stare at the vision of the Pillar of Night until Kiska tugged at his arm and pulled him angrily toward the feast. He followed her as if he were in a deep trance.
The Pillar of Night! His destiny-and the universe’s.
CHAPTER NINE
“It holds the key to Claybore’s defeat,” said Lan Martak. “I know it. If I can find out the secret hidden by the Pillar of Night I know I can defeat him.”
Inyx stared at Lan from across the campfire. Ducasien’s arm rested around her shoulders, and the man’s steely stare speared into Lan’s very soul. The mage continued with his pleas. He had to make them understand the importance of what he had been shown.
“It is Claybore’s weapon, but it can be turned against him. I feel it.”
“Then why mention it in her presence?” Ducasien glared at Kiska k’Adesina, who sat licking thick grease off her fingers before picking up still another roast haunch. She loudly cracked open a bone and sucked noisily at the marrow, appearing unconcerned that she was the topic of conversation.
“I need your help,” said Lan, almost stuttering. He couldn’t find the words to make them understand what strain he endured because of Kiska. Inyx knew Claybore had laid the geas on him but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t. They weren’t sorcerers.
“Claybore has shown you this Pillar,” said Inyx. “If it can be used against him, why show it to you at all?”
“Every time I have seen it, there has been an unsettling power flow from it,” explained Lan. “Claybore uses this to unbalance me, to counter my spells. It… it’s like a riposte. You wait for your opponent to attack, then you parry and lunge.”
“The mere sight of this black rock puts you off balance so much?” asked Ducasien. The man’s tone told all. He thought Lan lied for his own purposes.
“It’s a magical construct, not a real rock. It sucks up light. And the spikes atop it must signify something I have yet to learn.”
“Let her tell you. She’s Claybore’s commander in chief now.”
Kiska smiled and finished off a second piece of the roast meat. She tossed the gnawed bones over her shoulder and into the dark. Lan winced when she did this; it was poor camp sanitation. But what did Kiska care? She wouldn’t be long on this world, because she knew Lan had to pursue Claybore, wherever the dismembered mage went.
“At least, when she’s with me, she commands nothing. Claybore’s robbed of her services in that respect.”
Ducasien whispered something to Inyx. The dark-haired woman shook her head, then gave in.
“Good night, Lan,” Inyx said. “I don’t think there’s any reason to continue this conversation further.”
“You won’t help me?” he asked, stricken.
“You don’t need us. You made that clear many times over. Your magics are beyond our ken. Let me stay where my weapon-the sword-is adequate.”
“The grey-clad soldiers are just pawns. Claybore is the hand moving them, the brain guiding their motion.”
“Eliminate enough pawns, Martak,” said Ducasien, “and the hand has nothing left to move.”
Inyx and Ducasien left the circle of light cast by the campfire. Lan listened as their boots disturbed tiny pebbles. He heard the sliding of cloth against tent and then soft, intimate sounds that turned him cold inside.
“Let’s leave this dreary world, darling Lan,” said Kiska. “I tire of those fools.”
Lan Martak jerked away from her and stood, his lips already forming the spells to move him-them-back to the world where the Pillar of Night rose like an inky cloud to blot out the very sun. He and Kiska popped! away from this world and the victory over the grey-clads and Ducasien and… Inyx.
“She spies on us. I am sure of it,” said Brinke. “Claybore must know our every word.”
Lan had to agree. He and Kiska had returned to this world a week ago and Claybore had thwarted his every scheme, countered his spells with a sureness that came from knowledge.
“Is he able to see into the future?” asked Brinke. “It hardly seems possible. This Julinne’s talent is unique in my experience.”
“You must be right when you said that Claybore had a source of information within our ranks,” said Lan. “But how is it accomplished? I have watched Kiska carefully and have failed to see how she contacts him. The most delicate of ward spells is bypassed. He is cunning, that Claybore.”
All of Lan’s efforts to engage Claybore in direct battle again had failed. Lan took this to mean that the other sorcerer knew he was the weaker; Lan once saw an arm fall from Claybore’s shoulder, only to have the mage reattach it with hasty binding spells. And of the Kinetic Sphere-Claybore’s heart-there was no sign. Lan had successfully ripped it from the mage’s chest and randomly cast it along the Road. It might take Claybore years to regain it, or centuries, if Lan were lucky.
Until that time, Claybore’s powers were diminished. Not much, but perhaps enough. If only Lan could pin Claybore to one spot and make him fight!
“There is so little I can do,” said Brinke. The regal, tall blonde folded her hands in her lap and slumped. “My own spells are undeveloped. Until Claybore came, there was scant reason to nurture them. Now it is too late to learn what is needed.”
“But Claybore’s been here on this world for centuries,” said Lan. He frowned. “I don’t understand. You make it sound as if he’d only recently come.”
“I have never seen this Pillar of Night you speak of. Indeed, I had no idea this world was even visited by travelers along the Road until a few years ago. Claybore and a few of his officers arrived.”
“They organized local companies of the greys, then spread their influence,” Lan said. “That’s the usual pattern. But what was unusual was that Claybore did not leave once his power had been established.”
“That is so,” she said.
Lan looked at the woman and grew increasingly uncomfortable. He was powerfully attracted to her. While his dalliances with Kiska were not of his choosing, those with Brinke definitely were. And he felt increasingly guilty about them. Kiska winked lewdly and looked the other way, but he knew she had spoken of them to Inyx. And it was Inyx that bothered Lan the most. He had no pretensions of fidelity, either on his or on Inyx’s part, but involvement with Brinke put him at a disadvantage.
He still loved Inyx and anything used to push her farther away tore at his guts.
“Claybore,” the blonde went on, “controls this world with an iron grip. Few of us have successfully fought him. My family was halved during the first real uprising. We were halved again in number over subsequent skirmishes and only I remain to carry the fight to the mage.” Bitterness tinted her words as Brinke remembered the horrors of conflict that she had witnessed.
It was always this way, Lan knew.
“You have managed to keep Claybore at bay,” said Lan. “You must have powers you don’t realize.”
“I have no idea why Claybore hasn’t destroyed me as he did the others. Impalement. Beheading. Quartering. He magically tossed my sister high into the air and fed her to an air elemental. She lived for five days before she died.” In a voice almost too soft for Lan to hear, Brinke added, “It rained her blood for over an hour.”
“There has been overmuch of Claybore’s brutality. I have a plan that might work, but I cannot allow Kiska to accompany me. She would report directly to Claybore when she learned what I intend to do.”
“She can be kept in a cell for a few days, I think,” said Brinke. “With enough blanketing spells around her she won’t be able to contact Claybore.”
“That’s my only hope,” said Lan.
Brinke’s eyes locked with his again and Lan felt his heart stirring, going out to this lovely, brave woman.
“I am depending on you to hold her,” he said.
“Count on me. You must steel yourself to be without her, and that might be worst of all. What is your plan?”
“Not much of one,” Lan admitted. He began pacing, unconsciously locking his hands behind his back as he had
