Pillar of Night in place.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Go quickly. I do not think I can hold her long,” said Brinke. She glanced nervously toward the room where Kiska lay trussed up and gagged. If the woman managed to work her way free and call out, Brinke and Lan both knew he would be unable to resist her pleas.
“I hate leaving… you,” Lan said.
Brinke smiled wanly. “I know. And I know how difficult this is for you. The geas must be incredibly strong by this time.” She lightly touched his cheek. “The geas laid upon me by Claybore was so much more than I could cope with. I know what you are going through.”
Lan’s heart beat rapidly. He closed his eyes and began the spell that would transport him across worlds in the span of a single heartbeat. If he lingered even a few minutes more, he ran the risk of being unable to leave at all without Kiska k’Adesina. His mission was such that he needed secrecy-and with her along to report directly to Claybore, despite his best efforts, he would fail.
“Hurry,” he heard Brinke saying. The word lowered in pitch and the syllables drew out as he passed from one world to the next. When Lan blinked and peered about, he saw a rocky, barren world. A narrow canyon led into the higher mountains; the sheer cliff sides attracted his attention. Spider webs of enormous proportions depended from every outjut of rock and convenient spire.
“Krek,” he said softly. “You have worked well here.”
Lan started hiking, more for the sheer physical thrill than for any other reason. He had not refined the transport spell enough to pinpoint his destination, but he knew he could eliminate an hour or more of hard climbing by simple, short hops.
Lan Martak needed the exercise more than he needed to hurry. His life had been sedentary compared with the days of roaming the forests and living by his wits. Different skills had been sharpened, but at the expense of his strong sword arm, his indefatigable legs, his innate stamina. Also, this small hike gave him the opportunity to think of all that had occurred.
Touching the Pillar of Night had given him the truth. Kiska had lied; not something he had really doubted. And Brinke’s retelling of the legends surrounding the Pillar had been incomplete. Claybore had trapped the Resident of the Pit-therein lay the mistake made by the sorcerer.
He had intended for the powerful spell to form the Pillar of Night and drive it directly through the core of the Resident of the Pit’s being, killing the god for once and all time. The spell had failed at the last possible instant and had only trapped the god. Robbed of most of his power, the Resident had merely existed for the past ten thousand years with the Pillar as a tombstone to remind him of his former glory. Over this time he had come to long for death, even wishing Claybore had been successful with the original spell.
Lan could not defeat Claybore alone. He had fought to too many deadlocks to believe that now. His pride and overweening ego had been crushed by failure and forced him to admit he needed help.
He shook his head sadly. Together with the Resident of the Pit, he could defeat Claybore. To release the Resident from the Pillar of Night he needed the aid of others. He exhaled heavily when he realized that the friends he needed most were the very ones he had driven away.
Krek. Inyx. With their help he could free the Resident. With the Resident’s help he could defeat Claybore.
Lan huffed and puffed up a final ridge and looked down the narrow alley shadowed by spider webs. No stream flowed but large, verdant spots showed that water seeped up from below. An underground river, perhaps. Perfect for a spider who hated water and yet depended on the bugs nourished on and in it.
The man squinted into the sunlight and saw tiny shapes moving along the walking strands of the web. The pattern was unfamiliar to Lan, but he decided Krek had been improvising, trying to nurture his artistic talents now that he had nothing else to do.
“Krek!” he called. “It’s me, Lan Martak. Can we talk?”
Echoes reverberated down the valley. The tiny shapes in the web stopped and began swaying to and fro. The vibrations passed along certain cables in the web. Lan knew these spiders communicated with others, probably with Krek himself.
Lan trooped along, hunting for a small spring from which to slake his thirst. He found a bubbling pool and drank deeply from it, then sat and waited. Those spiders had sighted him and communication in the web was rapid and exact.
A spot twice as large appeared on the web and paused near the other two spiders. With long, loping steps, the distant spider dropped down to the bottom of the web and then to the ground out of Lan’s sight. In less than five minutes Krek loomed above him, his coppery furred legs gleaming in the sun.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Lan said.
Krek waited a spiderish length of time, then said, “Klawn always properly berated me for being brain- damaged. I know she is correct in that. Why I should desire to see you is beyond even my feeble power to imagine.”
“I need your help, Krek. To free the Resident of the Pit, I need you.”
“You are a powerful mage. Why do you need a craven one such as myself? You said as much before.”
“I was wrong. I… I can’t put into words what power you give me. It’s true I am magically powerful. But I need more. Together, with you beside me, I can succeed. I apologize for any hurt. It’s not much, but it’s all I can offer at the moment.”
“Contriteness does not suit you, Lan Martak.” The spider folded his eight long legs and sank down slowly so that his large dun-colored eyes were level with Lan’s. “I really ought to eat you for all you have done to me.”
“I won’t deny it.” Lan carefully watched as the spider’s huge mandibles clacked open and shut. One snip from those death scythes would end his life. Lan pulled his shoulders back and waited, wondering if Krek might attempt to cut him in half-and if both halves would continue to live. The magics within him were so potent, immortality might extend to even his pieces, just as it did to Claybore’s. The thought of Claybore’s mutilated foes scrabbling through the forest surrounding the Pillar of Night did not make him feel any better. Krek could doom him to such a fate with little effort.
“If I kill you, may I also eat you?”
“If you kill me, it won’t much matter,” said Lan.
The mountain arachnid thought on this for some time. Lan read not a hint of emotion in the chocolate pools of Krek’s eyes. Only a soft breeze wafting through the valley disturbed the fur on his legs. Other than this slight movement, the giant spider might have been a rock.
“Humans taste funny,” Krek finally said.
Lan did not answer. He interpreted this to mean Krek wasn’t likely to eat him. But it was difficult to say.
“Come along. Let me show you my kingdom.” Krek’s long legs levered him upright again. With a dexterity that always amazed Lan, the spider pivoted and got all eight legs moving in ground-devouring moves.
Lan trailed behind, up a small, rocky path and into a cave. He noticed Krek’s reluctance to enter such a confined space but said nothing. Lan depended on Krek’s good will now. Whatever the spider wanted to show him was fine, if it led to renewing their friendship.
“The mere spiders lost their Webmaster to the grey-clad humans,” explained Krek as he lumbered along the low-ceilinged mineshaft. “I came along in time to show them how to defeat Claybore’s soldiers. I am now Webmaster for the entire range, some forty thousand square miles of terrain.”
“Congratulations,” said Lan. “You were born to be a ruler.”
“I often wonder,” said Krek, sighing like a volcanic fumarole. “The demands are so wearing on me. It seems they never do things right the first time and I have to oversee their every web spin, their every hunting excursion.”
They entered an immense chamber strung with webs on all walls and ceilings. On the floor lay skins similar to those shed by a snake, but their shape disturbed Lan.
Krek saw the man’s interest.
“Claybore’s soldiers,” Krek explained.
