The Sorcerer_s Skull

CHAPTER NINE

" Krek, don' t!" screamed Lan. The spider bounded away, bouncing once or twice off the face of the cliff, climbing swiftly, leaving Lan and the other humans behind to face their deaths.

The rumbling grew greater, deeper, more powerful. Lan glanced from side to side, estimating his chances. A wall of water coming down from high in the mountains would easily fill this ravine. Merely getting up on the slopes of the arroyo wouldn' t help much if the flash flood proved too large.

" Krek, use your web to save us!"

The spider' s bulk diminished as he scuttled over the top of the cliff. Lan saw his friend shiver and shake in fear. The only thing the arachnid feared more than fire was water. Lan took no time to berate Krek for his cowardice. Much had happened to the spider to shake what little self- confidence he had. He had to move quickly. Saving his own life took precedence.

" Up the slopes. Hurry. Flood!" he cried to the pilgrims. They stared at him, eyes wide, expressions blank. They were so lost in their religious ceremonies that they hadn' t felt the vibrations beneath their feet- or if they had, they thought their earth god answered their supplications.

Lan rushed forward, using the flat of his sword to smack bottoms and chivvy along the pilgrims. They moved- too slowly.

The entire planet shook under Lan' s feet. A quick look up the ravine made him shake as hard as Krek had. A grey- green wall of water forty feet high smashed its way down, ripping out dead trees, picking up boulders five feet in diameter, promising sudden death. Lan forgot about the pilgrims; his own life hung in the balance. He scrambled up the side of the sandy embankment, fingers clawing frantically.

The first rush of the water ripped him loose from his precarious hold. Flung outward, he smashed painfully into a rock. As agonizing as this was, it saved his life. The powerful current carried him around the rock and up against earth. The pounding of water against his body wedged him further and further into the crevice between rock and dirt. Gasping, sputtering, he fought weakly against the water.

He survived. That thought went over and over in his head. He struggled harder and pulled himself up onto the rock that had saved his life. The man looked downriver at the watery maelstrom boiling around the site of the battle with the scorpion. Neither the carcass nor the boulder that had crushed the life from it remained.

If he' d been swept into the raging river, no amount of swimming ability could have saved him.

He turned, slipped, caught himself, then more carefully sat on the rock and peered upstream. Tiny water droplets exploded into the air, caught the sun, and turned into colorful prisms splitting the sun' s rays. Even in destruction came beauty. The awesome tide abated but little. Lan Martak peered at the banks, seeking some sign of life, some indication that Ehznoll and the others had lived.

Nothing.

" Ehznoll!" he cried out. His words were sucked under by the roaring waters just a few feet away. " Ehznoll!" he called again. " Where are you?"

A tiny murmur, hardly more than a subliminal message, reached his ears. The singsong chant built in tempo and volume until he recognized the words.

" Ehznoll!"

The chant came still louder. The fanatical pilgrim recited his prayers. He' d survived the onslaught of water.

Then Lan saw another survivor: Melira. But from the way she clung desperately to the rock in the center of the river, he could see that her strength would soon vanish and she' d be swept away.

" Melira, are you hurt?"

" The good earth will protect me," she called back. Her voice started out strong enough, then weakened. " Water is a part of the earth. The soil sucks it up, embraces it to its bosom. I shall join the water."

" Don' t let loose. I' ll save you!"

How he' d perform this miracle feat, Lan didn' t know. The first thing he did was strip off his heavy sword belt. His boots and tunic followed. Only then did he study the expanse he had to cross to save the woman. The floodwaters had receded slightly, but not enough to aid him. There wasn' t any way a human could swim that torrential outpouring from high on the mountain.

" Friend Lan Martak, I am so pitiable. A coward, not only to my own kind, but to humans, as well. How can I ever redeem myself?" The words came amid tiny chokes and moans of emotional pain. Lan looked over to the top of the cliff, barely ten feet above him now because of the water. Krek cowered there, trembling, his head hanging over the precipice while the bulk of his body remained safely on solid rock.

" Spin a web. Hurry, Krek. Let me swing out to the middle of the river. Melira." He pointed. The spider bobbed his head, then emitted a spitting noise. A long, slender strand whirled down to splat! on the rock beside the man.

Lan looked at it with trepidation. The web- stuffs diameter was hardly more than a single sewing thread' s. He tested it and worried even more. The elasticity of this silk might drop him into the drink. Still, Lan had no other choice but to trust the spider' s spinning skills. Melira weakened visibly, her fingers turning white against the rock, slowly slipping, letting her body be whipped about by the current.

Lan Martak took a deep breath, gripped the thread, then stepped out over the river.

" Noooo!" he shrieked as the thread lengthened under his weight.

Just as the man was positive he' d be dropped into the river and swept away, he snapped hard and swung past Melira. The web- stuff had stretched as much as it could and now held his weight easily. But he' d gone past the woman and crashed into the side of the cliff. Getting back to her might prove difficult.

" Allow me to aid you," came the spider' s voice from above.

The thread jiggled and bounced, then began pulling Lan upward. When he reached an out- jutting, Krek stopped.

" Swing free now. It is simple enough for even a hatchling."

" Here goes nothing." Lan again stepped into nothingness. This time, however, he aimed more carefully. As the short arc swept him by the failing Melira, he reached down with one arm and caught her about the waist.

Accomplishing this made his hand slip on the thread. It was too thin for an easy grasp.

" Krek, I' m slipping, I: I can' t hold both her and myself."

The spider didn' t answer with words. A tiny drop of amber fluid dripped slowly down the length of the taut web material. Lan held on the best he could to keep Melira from flying away in the current. His arms aching from the strain, his hand cramping and ready to release and throw both of them into the water to drown, the man wondered why his life should end in this fashion.

The droplet touched his skin. He shrieked in pain and involuntarily tried to pull back, to let loose of the web- thread. His hand glued firmly to the line.

Slowly, one inch at a time, he felt himself rising. He tightened his grip around the now- unconscious woman' s waist. The effort made his shoulders ache even more. Muscle strain and sudden spasms caused his right hand to open on the thread; the spider glue held him firmly. Seeing this, Lan concentrated all his effort on holding the woman. To drop her now after rescuing her would be worse than never reaching her at all.

" There," he finally heard the spider say. " You are safe. Now you may berate me, denigrate my abilities, call me craven."

" Krek," Lan cried, throwing his arms around the spider' s bulky abdomen, " thank you!"

" He thanks me," the spider sighed. Tears formed in the dishshaped chocolate eyes. " I show my true colors and he thanks me. I am a coward, friend Lan Martak- no, not friend. I dare not call anyone my friend. Who would have me?"

" I will, you crazy eight- legged fool. You saved me- both of us."

Melira stirred on the ground, still unconscious.

" I allowed you to be placed in the danger."

" Krek," Lan said seriously, seeing the spider needed consoling, " bravery isn' t doing daring acts. Bravery is overcoming your fear. You were frightened and yet you overcame your fear of the water enough to rescue both me and the pilgrim."

" You think me brave?"

" I do."

" Humans are most peculiar." With that Krek trotted over to the now- stirring woman. He poked at her with one taloned claw. " She needs some attention. Perhaps you should perform some of those human mating rituals now."

" I think not." Lan knelt beside the woman, now sputtering to get fluid out of her lungs. She turned onto her side, coughed, and finally began breathing normally. Her eyes opened, stared up an Lan.

" Y- you saved me."

" Krek helped."

" Why?"

" Couldn' t just let you die, could I?"

Melira sobbed as Lan held her. He found this chore less tiresome than it might have been earlier. The water had washed away most of the dirt in her hair and on her body. While she wasn' t totally clean, she' d been improved by the ordeal.

" I: I cannot thank you. The good earth must do that." She turned wide eyes up to Lan' s. He felt a surge of discomfort.

" Better check to see how the others in your party fared."

" Yes," she said, the moment gone. " I hear the earth chants being sung. Ehznoll survived."

Lan helped her to her feet. The three started the long, arduous climb down the far side of the cliff, skirting the deadly waters to find a handful of survivors gathered around their leader.

" Their deaths were good," insisted Ehznoll. He leaned forward and thumped a fist into hard ground. " They were swallowed up by the waters, and the waters soaked into the earth. They returned to the bosom of dirt from which we all sprang."

" No death' s a good one," said Lan glumly. After rejoining Ehznoll and the four others who had escaped the floodwaters, they' d walked along the rim of the canyon, heading upward into the mountains. Less than an hour' s travel had brought them to an earthen dam intended to hold back the water. " Especially when it is deliberate."

" How can you say that? The earth barrier gave way. The earth wanted to receive our pilgrims. Their destiny wasn' t atop Mount Tartanius. It was here, going into the earth."

" Someone ripped open the dam and tried to drown us," said Lan. He pointed out the clear indications of the attempted murder. Sheer, mirror- smooth sides remained above the water, showing where incredible forces had been unleashed. The dirt itself had fused into a glassy substance that broke under Lan' s knife point.

" The god of earth did it in his: new form." Ehznoll' s voice softened and he dropped into tones reserved for his more reverent moments. " I saw him. The new god."

" You' re saying your god sliced through the earth like that?" A large chunk of the vitrified dam came loose and tumbled into the still- raging water. The green, turbulent water swallowed the material as if it were only an appetizer before a larger meal.

" Yes." Ehznoll' s voice lowered even more. " I saw! He was as our god of the earth: disembodied. Only his intelligence floated."

" What?"

" His head floated. He nodded toward me and eyes flashed. He is a new god on earth. And we are privileged to be here at his assumption of power."

Lan Martak scowled, then glanced over at Krek. The spider appeared not to be listening. The arachnid had been lost in his own thoughts since they' d rejoined Ehznoll' s band. The description Ehznoll gave of his new god worried Lan more than Krek' s depression.

" This new god' s eyes," he pressed. " Did ruby beams shoot from them?"

" No."

Lan let out a lungful of air he hadn' t known he held.

" The beams were crimson."

" Claybore!"

Ehznoll stared at the man.

" You know of him? That' s his name? Our god of the earth is nameless, omnipresent, needing no human term. But this new god is compact, condensed, a living relic. Even his name speaks of the earth."

The pilgrim gripped Lan' s arm with steely fingers. Lan pulled free and sat back on his heels, looking from Ehznoll to Melira to the other four. The zealots accepted every word Ehznoll uttered as gospel. He talked them into believing Claybore was a god.

" I' ve heard of this Claybore, nothing more," Lan said carefully. The man feared Krek would contradict him, but the spider remained wrapped in the dark cloak of his own thoughts and feelings.

" Our tenets change. This new god- Claybore! — works wonders on our earth, for us, through us, because of us. He split this dam to carry eighteen of our order to their justly deserved graves."

" Surrounded by dirt," chimed in Melira and the others.

" One with dirt," Ehznoll answered ritualistically. They crossed their wrists and dropped into a kneeling pose, eyes afire with religious fervor. Lan left them to go study the edge of the dam more closely.

Glass. It sloped down five feet and then vanished into green, swiftly flowing waters. Claybore had used a spell to slash through the retaining dam and send a wall of water down the canyon. That much was clear. But who aided the decapitated mage? Who acted as his legs? Lan felt sure now that he had seen a man with a pack animal. That man carried along the wooden box containing the sorcerer' s skull. Without the Kinetic Sphere, Claybore lacked mobility.

In a way, he felt happy this had happened. Claybore feared him, feared his ability to reach the top of Mount Tartanius first. Knowing that a foe as worthy as Claybore felt this way added spring to Lan' s step, energy to his body, determination to his quest.

" Come along, old spider," he said, kicking Krek in the ribs. " Time to be walking. We' ve got a race on our hands, and Claybore' s only a few miles ahead of us."

Krek lumbered to his feet and began working his way upslope. Lan followed, with Ehznoll' s band behind.

Mount Tartanius towered in front of them. For three days they' d fought their way ever higher in the foothills of the Sulliman Range. Now only the soaring peak itself remained between them and its summit.

" I can ' see' it," said Krek, speaking his first words in almost two days. " It radiates immense power."

" I sense it, too," said Lan. He closed his eyes. Floating in front of him was a brilliantly glowing ball of incandescent gas. It spun and turned and twisted, leaving misty strands of itself behind. He had no idea what this image meant; the Kinetic Sphere was solid. No doubt remained in his mind, though, that he now shared Krek' s vision of the gateway between worlds.

" There is also evidence of those who passed this way before us."

" What? Where?"

He knelt down to peer more intently at the hard, flintlike rock. Tiny scratches showed where a shod horse had trodden recently. The weather had yet to round off the edges of the scratch marks, to fill the grooves with dirt. The track led directly forward toward Mount Tartanius.

" I cannot sense Claybore, however," finished the spider.

" Nor I," said Lan. " I' ve been straining my magic- sensing ability to the utmost, but either he hasn' t used any spells or they are so devious I' m not able to detect them."

" His powers are diminished by separation from the Kinetic Sphere," said Krek. " His spells might be of such low- grade power they remain below your threshold of sensing."

" Our new god came this way? You are mages? You' re sure?" cut in Melira. " Ehznoll! They say our new god has come this way. Recently!"

" Glory be to the top of Mount Tartanius!" shrieked Ehznoll. " I knew we did well allowing you to join our pilgrimage."

The six earth- lovers dropped to pray. Lan shook his head sadly. The cleaning from the inadvertent baths they' d all been subjected to hadn' t lasted long. The very first day on the trail away from the dam, Ehznoll and the others had taken to rolling in the dust, patting it into one another' s skin, matting their hair until it hung in greasy ropes. Melira, possibly out of deference to Lan' s sensibilities, hadn' t become quite as filthy as she' d been before. The difference between her state now and then was one of degree only.

Lan cringed whenever he saw her eyeing him.

He turned to Krek, saying, " How are you faring? I find myself increasingly winded."

" The air is fine. In the Egrii Mountains, we spiders inhabit peaks much higher than this lowly pass."

" Lowly for you, high for me. I' m used to sea level. Aren' t you the least bit tired?"

" No."

As they moved on after Ehznoll had finished his new supplications, Lan wondered how much longer he could keep up the pace. The pilgrims were fired with religious ecstasy. Sheer enthusiasm kept them going forward. Krek had been born and raised at elevations much greater. His own lungs burned with every breath. He forced himself to suck in as much air as possible, hold it longer than usual, then exhale quickly. Even this didn' t supply his aching muscles the oxygen necessary for quick pace.

" There' s a hut," he panted. " Let' s rest there."

" As you wish, friend Lan Martak," agreed the spider. His mood lightened appreciably as they worked ever higher. He returned to the lands he knew best and slowly forgot his lapse of bravery when the dam had been sundered. " This rude peasant hut is old but serviceable for one of your species. If I understand the workings, the pipe emerging from the roof might be connected to a heating device inside."

Lan rubbed chapped hands together and felt a brief surge of warmth from the friction. To sit in front of a wood- fired stove seemed closer to heaven to him than the crest of Mount Tartanius.

" Come on. I' ll bet the last party' s even left us firewood."

" The last party is likely to have been Claybore and his lackey," pointed out the spider. That dampened Lan' s spirit and made him more cautious. While Ehznoll and the others collapsed to pray loudly after hearing Claybore' s name again, Lan circled the hut, critically studying it.

" I don' t see any traps. I don' t sense any magical ward spells. Anything, Krek?"

The spider' s head swayed from side to side, indicating he " saw" nothing.

" Here goes nothing." Lan kicked open the door and stood, sword in hand, waiting. No demons raved outward to devour him. No spells turned him into a newt. Only the musty odor of a long- closed room came forth to make his nostrils twitch.

He entered. The hut remained as it had been for decades. Piles of equipment left by prior expeditions littered the floor. Heavy furs dangled from pegs on the walls. The pot- bellied stove itself dominated the center of the room. Lan couldn' t imagine the work it' d taken to get such a heavy iron implement up the slopes to this point.

" Firewood," said Krek, disdain in his voice. " And do not light the fire while I am within spark distance. A tiny ember might ignite my fur," Ripples passed up and down the legs.

" Don' t worry, old spider. I' ll only use a small pyromancy spell. And it' ll be inside the stove." Lan poked about the litter and found a grimy fur cloak long enough to barely drag the ground when he slung it about his shoulders. " This is going to be a great help. The nights are too cold for the clothing we have. There' s enough here to keep us from freezing to death."

" Speak for yourself. The weather is fine."

Lan ignored him and dug further. He touched a small wooden crate and felt electric tingles pass up his arm. Magic. He cautiously opened the lid and saw a dozen woollen caps inside, caps to be pulled down over the head with eyeholes and no other opening.

" Guess we' re not supposed to talk or breathe," he said. The feel of magic still persisted. He didn' t detect any hint of evil, only magic. He shoved his head into one of the caps, positioning the eyes so he could see. " I can breathe!" he exclaimed. " The magic spell does something to make breathing easier."

" Your voice remains muffled," said Krek. The thick wool prevented Lan from hearing the softer " Good."

" And foodstuffs. Trail rations. Enough for us to make a good try at the mountain."

" Enough for all you humans. This spot is obviously popular with those scaling mountains. It is a shame you cannot leave behind for future travellers the masks and fur capes when you no longer require them."

It was true. No matter what the outcome atop Mount Tartanius, Lan Martak would never again pass this way. If he regained the Kinetic Sphere, that magical gateway opened a myriad worlds to him; he wouldn' t risk the descent to return this equipment. And if Claybore triumphed, Lan needed nothing at all- except the dirt around him that Ehznoll and the others worshipped.

Lan didn' t seek a grave. He sought Inyx- and freedom to walk the Cenotaph Road.