Fire and Fog

CHAPTER TWO

" Claybore attacks!" screamed Krek, his voice carrying the tone of pure anguish. The spider jumped about, rubbing one massive leg against another in a vain attempt to remove the droplets of acid burning through his fur.

" It' s not Claybore' s doing," said Lan Martak, shielding his face from the sporadic raindrops falling from the clouds. He winced as a droplet heavy with acid spattered wetly over his protecting hand and onto his face.

" I burn!"

The spider' s fur had begun to smolder from the falling acid. In his fruitless attempt to avoid the rain, Krek even rolled on the ground. Lan saw instantly that this made it worse. Every spot the rain touched caused the rock to burst into a tiny fountain of flame. Looking out over the barren plain, he saw minute watchfires springing up with greater frequency. When the rain began to pour down in a full storm, the entire world might be set ablaze.

Inyx saw this and said to Lan, " We' ve got to find cover. Left out here, it won' t matter what Claybore can or can' t do to us. The elements will burn or boil us."

Lan closed his eyes and let his mind wander. When he found the dancing light that had become his companion, he enticed it closer, teasing, cajoling, promising. The familiar burst overhead and spread out an umbrella of pure energy to protect the trio from the increasingly vigorous acidfall.

" Now, Krek," the young warrior mage said, " let' s see to putting out your fires."

" Water! Fire! I drown and burn! This is the worst of all possible worlds. Why did I ever leave fair Wurnna behind? I could have made peace with Murrk and the other spiders. They' d let me stay high in the webs, swinging in the gentle breezes. But no, I walk the Road and find both fire and water to confound me!"

" Lan, he does need help," said Inyx. She furrowed her brow in worry as huge patches of coppery fur on the spider' s legs began turning into charcoal and falling off in gobs. " He won' t be able to endure much more of this."

Lan rubbed his hands together, then let his fingers trace out a fiery pattern that hung suspended in the air. The pattern took on new shapes and burned with an intensity equal to that of the rocks silently erupting into flame all around. Spinning, the pattern became nothing more than a blur, then sped directly for the spider.

Krek let forth a shrill scream of almost human agony, then vented one of his gusty, spiderish sighs. He shook for a moment, then stood on all eight legs.

" Whatever you did, friend Lan Martak, thank you. The burning is gone. But my poor fur:." Krek' s head craned around and studied the damage done to his fine leg fur.

" It' ll grow back, Krek. Just wait and see," soothed Inyx.

While the pair of them talked in low tones, Lan walked to the edge of the protection formed by his magical umbrella and peered out at the landscape. Seldom had he seen such a foreboding place. The watchfires sputtered and leaped wherever the acid rain touched- but he did see a narrow path leading off into the cloud- obscured distance. Occasional gusts of wind cleared the horizon to reveal a towering mountain wrapped in a flame envelope. Other than this, the world appeared denuded of all contour.

" Not even vegetation," he mused, looking over the terrain. Lan realized this might mean nothing. After all, they had emerged on this world in the center of a graveyard. Around him stood small marker stones commemorating the passing of dozens of lost souls. The cenotaph from which they' d emerged was even more poorly marked, giving it the aspect of a pauper' s grave. The more he looked around, the more Lan warmed to the idea that this was a potter' s field where the indigent were lain to whatever rest they could find.

" Any sign of Claybore?" asked Inyx, coming to his side and putting a gentle hand around his waist.

" Magically, I haven' t tried. I fear any use of a scrying spell might alert him."

" The umbrella won' t draw his attention?" Fearfully, she looked above to where the acid rain pelted down onto the thin magical sheet stretched taut.

" There are hints of magic all around. This won' t command any more attention than the others. But you are right. We must keep the use of my spells to a minimum or we will warn him of our presence. Surprise is our greatest ally at the moment."

" You' ve grown in your powers so much I hardly know what you can and can' t do," she said, her voice strained.

He missed the tone.

" Claybore' s power is still greater. And if he finds his arms and legs on this world, there will be no stopping him."

" The tongue won' t stand against him?"

" I: I don' t know," Lan admitted. He rolled the iron organ about in his mouth. It carried with it a metallic taste, but other than this he might as well have had his natural tongue. But the young mage knew the power of the tongue. He had seen the commands given for suicide followed instantly and without question. The tongue enhanced a spell, gave him the Voice, made him much, much more than he had been.

And in some fashion he didn' t understand, it allowed him to more closely understand Claybore. This tongue had once been a part of that renegade mage; now that it rested inside Lan' s mouth, the two were merged in a subtle and magical way.

" Where is he? Can you tell without the scrying spell?"

" No, I can' t," he told his raven- haired companion. Lan looked into Inyx' s brilliant blue eyes and saw concern there, concern for him. " About all I can find is what my senses tell me."

" We already know this is a terrible place," moaned Krek. " An awful place full of vile things. Oh, woe! Why did I leave my web and my lovely bride Klawn?"

Lan ignored the spider' s lamentations.

" There' s nothing to be seen except for the peak rising yonder." He pointed it out to Inyx when another strong gust of wind cleared away the veiling fog around it.

" Don' t be so sure. Lower your sights a little. There, over to the right." Inyx pointed. Lan followed the sleek line of her arm to a spot not a hundred yards away.

" Interesting. They seem to be digging a grave," he said.

" Robbing it is my guess. Who else would dare the wretched elements on this planet but grave robbers?"

" Quiet, Krek. Let' s go see if we can strike up a conversation and learn something of this place."

" I do not wish to speak to anyone. Not if they are native to this horrid place," the spider said, sulking.

" Then you' ll sit in the middle of the rain. The umbrella comes with me."

Lan whistled, gestured, and started off. The glowing protective sheet sailed several feet above his head. Inyx kept pace and Krek saw that he had to, also, or end up out in the searing acid rain. The arachnid lumbered along, grumbling as he went.

" Good day," called out Lan from a safe distance. The gravediggers barely stood four feet tall and were immensely powerful. Wrists as thick as Lan' s forearm twisted shovels and spades in the rocky soil. Their noses were bulbous like potato sprouts and the gnarly ears protruding from the sides of their misshapen heads looked to be more vegetable than animal in origin. One of the diggers turned a rheumy eye toward Lan, but other than this, none paid him the slightest attention.

" Sociable crew, aren' t they?" commented Inyx.

" You try," urged Lan. " Sometimes you can strike up a conversation better than I can."

Inyx tried and failed. The four gnomes continued digging until they had a grave a half- dozen feet deep and two by five across the rocky plain.

" Mayhaps they are incapable of speaking," said Krek. " Or perhaps they are merely rude little buggers."

" Rude!" blared the one Lan took to be the leader. " We' re not rude! How dare you offend us by saying such a vile thing? The Heresler clan is more polite than any of the others- all the others taken together! Ask any of us!"

" Did we offend you?" asked Lan. " There are many differences in cultures."

" You didn' t offend me. You? Either of you two fools?" The leader took a quick inventory of his men and shook his head. Hair the diameter and texture of seaweed fluttered over his eyes. He pushed the greasy hair back into uneasy equilibrium without even noticing he did so.

" Allow me to introduce:" Lan began.

" Who cares who you are? We have work to do."

" And he thinks he' s not rude. Wonder what the others are like?" asked Inyx.

" Others? You have contact with the Tefize?"

" What could it matter to you?" asked Lan.

The gnome threw down his shovel and stomped over to stand less than six inches away from Lan. Chin thrusting upward, hands on broad hips, the gnome glared at Lan.

" They are sworn enemies. Do you have dealings with the Tefize or not?"

" No." Lan used just the slightest amount of the Voice with his answer. Inyx cringed when she felt the power radiating outward. The gnome hardly took note of it. He only nodded briskly.

" Good."

He turned to go back to his digging.

" Wait!" Lan' s patience was nearing an end. " We want information. We need shelter, we need food, we want to find out if another has come this way. We need a lot of things."

" Who doesn' t?"

Lan had grown up on a forested world where hunting provided the major means of his sustenance. Patience had become inbred with him. To lie in a tree over a game trail waiting for the right- sized doe or buck, then to leap down like an attacking pard required skill and determination and: patience.

Since his magical powers grew, Lan Martak found his temper increasingly short- fused.

" Krek, eat them. All four."

" Lan!" protested Inyx. He gripped her arm to silence her outburst.

The four gnomes exchanged worried looks- or what Lan thought were worried looks.

The leader barked out, " Get back to work. We have to finish before nightfall."

When one of the others saw Krek advancing and looked up at the eight- foot- tall, eight- legged horror, he swung his shovel as hard as he could. The blade smashed into the back of his leader' s head. The gnome crashed face down into the grave he was digging, never uttering a sound.

" I' m leader now," spoke up the one who had so creatively used his shovel. " Let' s negotiate this."

" Now we' re getting somewhere," said Lan. " Come, sit beside us so we can talk." He didn' t want to tower over the gnome. Such difference in position lent an air of uneasiness to the one being looked down upon, or so Lan had found in his experience. The gnome plopped down and crossed his arms, looking expectantly at Lan to begin.

" We are travelers along the Cenotaph Road," he began.

" Yes, yes," said the gnome impatiently. " That much is obvious. Who else but traveler or a Heresler would be out in the graveyard? Certainly not the Tefize or the Kaan or the Willikens, damn them all. So. You have to be walking the Road."

Lan frowned. While many peoples along the Road knew of the existence of other worlds, few took it so casually.

" Why don' t you walk the Road yourself and get away from all this?" Lan gestured to encompass the downpour of acidic rain. Every drop touched off a tiny explosion now, leaving behind a pocked and flaming crater. To be caught unprotected on that plain meant certain death, and even under his magical umbrella, he sensed a new danger. The air filled with noxious gases released by the flaming rocks.

" This is home. Why wander?" asked the gnome, obviously puzzled at the question. Lan didn' t pursue the matter further. Perdition to one was paradise to another.

" My name is Lan Martak, this is Inyx, and the big one is Krek."

" Krek- k' with- kritklik," spoke up Krek, " but the human palate does not seem adequate for the task of pronouncing a real name."

The gnome made a noise like he spat, then said, " I see why they call you Krek. I am Broit Heresler, head of the Heresler clan."

" Head?" asked Inyx in surprise. She glanced over at the gnome struggling to sit up in the grave. He rubbed the back of his head where Broit had smashed him with the shovel.

" Oh, damn," said Broit, springing to his feet. He scooped up his shovel and again smashed the fallen gnome in the back of the head. He added one last whack to make sure of the job, tossed down the shovel, and returned to sit by Lan.

" Promotion is swift on this planet," muttered Lan.

" He was a tyrant, anyway," said Broit Heresler. " And he did absolutely nothing to fend off the Tefize. They are walking all over us. Imagine. They denigrate the position of us gravediggers in polite society."

" What function do the Tefize play?"

" They don' t do anything but cart around food and shit and stuff like that. Imagine. They never even leave the confines of the Home and they have the nerve to say we' re deadbeats."

" Anyone leaving the safety of, uh, the Home to come out here is hardly that," agreed Lan.

" I like you," said Broit. " You' re quick on the uptake."

" Thank you. Tell me about the Tefize. How long has your clan and theirs been at odds?"

Broit looked at the young mage and shook his head. He made an ugly face and then spat onto the ground. Where the gobbet hit, a thin column of steam rose. Lan wondered if the acid rain caused the fire or whether it merely acted as a catalyst and any moisture would suffice to produce the blazes.

" Generations. Longer. It' s always that way. The doers pitted against the takers. Bodies' d build up sky high if it wasn' t for us. Who else is there to carry out the dead and put them in the ground where they belong?"

" Keeps you busy," said Inyx.

" Damn right it does. The Hereslers perform vital service."

" When did the tide begin to go against you?" asked Lan.

" What makes you think it has been?" demanded Broit. " I never said anything about anything going wrongo. Not in the least."

" A guess."

" Maybe a month, maybe two. If you ask me- and you can now, since I' m clan chieftain- it' s that mage the Tefize recruited. He' s been making mischief all over the place." Broit spat once more.

" The disembodied mage?" asked Lan, trying to sound as casual as possible. He felt electricity surging throughout his body. Most of all, his tongue tingled with the need to demand of this gnome the truth. Such a use of magic would certainly bring unwanted attention from Claybore; Lan fought down the urge.

" He' s the one. Another walker along the Road. Damn fool doesn' t have any legs. Uses a mechanical gadget to get about on. No arms, either, but it doesn' t seem to bother him a whole lot. He' s around, but he' s not the one causing all the fuss."

" The woman with him is probably the one, right?" asked Inyx.

" You folks know where all the bodies are hidden, that' s for sure," said Broit. " Kiska k' Adesina, they call her. What a bitch. Always getting into trouble and making a mess. She' s increased the Heresler work load tenfold since she showed up." Broit rubbed over his bent back to show how much gravedigging had increased since Claybore' s new commandant had arrived.

" Are there many of the grey- clad soldiers about?"

" Who? No soldiers, not since we killed off the last of the Larsh clan some sixty years ago. Buried every last one of them, we did. Some were still alive when we did, too. Served ' em right."

" What would happen if the Tefize are victorious in this civil war you' re waging?" asked Lan.

Broit Heresler shrugged.

" Would they wipe out all of the Hereslers?"

" Sure would. In a snap." Broit wound up, harumphed, and spat a good ten feet, watching the spittle attract acid droplets as it flew. By the time it hit the ground, it virtually exploded like a small artillery shell.

" You don' t seem overly concerned with this," said Inyx. " Wouldn' t you like a bit of help to prevent being killed?"

" Wouldn' t turn it down," said the gnome. " Wouldn' t want to accept it, either. Big load to carry when you start taking favors from people. Look at what' ll happen to the Tefize. This Claybore will take them for a bunch, count on it."

" If you are no longer around, what matters it to you?" asked Krek.

" Everyone' s got to go sometime. Nobody knows that better' n a gravedigger, righto?"

" I suppose so," said Lan.

" Got to finish up," said Broit, peering out from under the magical umbrella at the overcast sky. " If we don' t, we' re going to get caught in the fog. Wouldn' t want to be cut off from Yerrary, no way."

" Yerrary?" asked Lan. " Is that the mountain I saw?"

" More' n any mountain you ever saw. That' s Home."

" But the mountain' s name is Yerrary?"

" Well," said the gnome, obviously thinking hard on the subject, " it is and it isn' t. Yerrary' s the name of our major deity, not that anybody worships her any more. But we still use the name for Home. Seemed right at the time. Now, who cares? We' re all dead sooner or later."

" That we are," said Inyx.

" You two get digging. And cover him up. I don' t want him coming around again. Hate to bend the shovel more' n I have already." Broit sat and supervised while the other two gnomes diligently worked in the acid rain to dig three more graves and to cover over the one in which their onetime leader lay.

Lan almost protested, then stopped himself. Different cultures, different customs. Broit appeared to be an amiable enough sort, whereas his predecessor hadn' t been. They' d need all the aid they could get to fight off Claybore and Kiska k' Adesina. Alliance with the Heresler clan might not be enough, but it gave them a starting point.

" Enough for the day. Got to go." Broit rose and stalked off, the acid rain hardly bothering him, even though tiny pieces of his shirt burned away as he went.

" A moment, Broit," called Lan. " Might we accompany you?"

" Why?"

" We' d like to see Yerrary- Home."

" Do as you please."

" And we' d like to align ourselves in support of your fight against the Tefize. Claybore is our enemy, also."

" That doesn' t mean the Tefize necessarily are. The enemy of my enemy isn' t always my friend."

Lan wondered at the society forming such an obdurate philosophy, but he pressed onward. He needed to gain entry into Yerrary with the least possible disturbance. He had no doubt that k' Adesina already had posted guards on the entry points to prevent easy access. And once inside, the mountain passages probably went for miles- hundreds of miles. A sympathetic guide would aid them considerably.

" It is true this time. I would destroy every member of the Tefize to stop Claybore."

" Bloodthirsty bugger, aren' t you? Well, come along. I' ll think on it as we go." Broit nervously glanced around, checking the clouds, then studying a timepiece fastened to his wrist. " Time' s a' wasting. Hurry it up."

The three gnomes set out at a pace belying their short legs. Lan and Inyx found it difficult to keep up with them and even Krek once muttered a spiderish curse about the poor footing.

" Why hurry so?" Lan asked Broit.

" Fog' s coming in. Want to be inside the mountain before sundown."

" You mean this isn' t nighttime?"

" Bright as day," he was assured by the gnome. " At sunset' s when the fog rolls in. Damn stuff."

Lan maintained the umbrella overhead although he worried about its being detected as they neared the mountain. Yerrary rose up from the plain a full mile or more, its sides deeply eroded and here and there sporting jagged prominences showing where the gnomes had placed structures of their own. As he neared, the young mage saw tiny windows glowing with warm yellow light. Doorways dotted the entire mountainside and he knew there would be no way for k' Adesina to guard every one of them.

She would have to rely on the Tefize spy network for informationand that might take long hours to filter up to her. And if the Tefize were as uncooperative as the Hereslers appeared, she might never hear of his entry. Lan felt hope flaring. A quick entry, an even quicker attack, and victory was his!

" Even the mountain burns," grumbled Krek. " Look at it!"

As the rains cascaded over the rocky slopes and ran down gulleys, ten- foot- thick pillars of fire rose to gut the sky.

" There," said Broit, pointing with his stubby arm. " There' s our way in."

A single door stood ajar at the base of the mountain. Lan collapsed his magical umbrella and sent the dancing mote of light forward to reconnoiter. It spun crazily and obediently whirled back to him, reporting no traps.

" Lan," said Inyx, her voice oddly pitched. " The fog. Look how it rolls down the side of the mountain. I' ve never seen anything like it before."

The fog formed claws and scratched at bare rock. Flaming paths were left behind as the fog crept ever downward.

Seeing this caused Broit and the other gnomes to break into a dead run.

" Why do they fear the fog?" Lan wondered aloud. " They certainly didn' t seem to mind the rain burning away their clothing and flesh."

The fog billowed and roiled as if it had a life of its own. Lan and Inyx reached the doorway and turned to see Krek struggling to join them. A single feathery digit of fog cut the spider off from the doorway, almost as if the mist had a mind of its own.

" Krek?" called Lan. Something snapped inside the man. His tone changed and he used the Voice. " Krek! Come here immediately! Follow my voice. Now!"

" Lan, what' s wrong?" Inyx asked anxiously.

Krek came through the fog, mandibles clacking. He roared a battle cry and charged them, intent on destruction. From the way his duncolored eyes glazed over, it was obvious that he had gone berserk.

" Kill everyone!" screeched the giant spider as he bore down on Lan and Inyx.