" You must not allow them to win so easily," said Krek.
" Easily!" cried Lan. " I fought. I: I can' t fight any more."
" They do this to you. Their spells somehow rob you of all desire to continue. Protect yourself, friend Lan Martak. Protect yourself and do not think of me."
Lan glanced at the giant spider. Krek waved front legs back and forth in a futile attempt to ward off the insects. The swarming bugs bothered him as much as they did the human- and perhaps even more. They got into the coppery fur of his legs and burrowed, and then began sucking away at his life juices. Lan cried inside when he saw the sorry sight of Krek' s blood dripping down those mighty legs.
Then he looked to his own body. The insects treated him far worse. Not a square inch of exposed skin escaped unscathed. Fiery red marked where they chewed on him and their poisons entered his bloodstream, further debilitating him.
But worst of all by far was the spell cast upon him by Tefize.
The gnome slowly rose out of the rock into which Lan had cast him. The spell turning the stone into liquid had faded and Lan no longer maintained it, allowing Lirory Tefize to escape. And with him came Claybore. The mechanical legs had been damaged, bent and twisted into impossible shapes, but Claybore remained in full control of the powers he had recovered during their long battle along the Road.
The disembodied sorcerer used them all now.
Lan began to sob, to feel more and more insignificant. Why continue? The two mages' spells were too potent for him. He was only a simple hunter from a primitive world dabbling in the arcane. What did he know of magic? He was better off with sword in hand and even this ability had fled him. It had been far too long since he had relied on his strong arm and quick reflexes. What prowess with the blade he had once possessed was long past. He had gambled on attaining supreme magical power and had now lost that wager.
Lost. Lost. Lost!
" Lan," came Krek' s soft voice. " The ledge narrows. They chew away at it even as their odious bugs chew at our flesh."
" What' s the difference?" he moaned. " Let them cast us into the pit. It can' t be any worse than this." His arms burned with the insects' poison and his brain was reduced to nothing more than lard renderings. Weak, incapable of forming a single thought, he felt he deserved to die.
Lan wiped sweat and blood from his eyes in time to see Krek spit forth a web and swing upward. The spider worked quickly, easily, in spite of the injuries the swarming insects forced upon him. Lan knew he should take heart in this, but couldn' t. He felt too miserable.
" Goodbye, Martak," came Claybore' s gloating words. " Soon enough you will enjoy the fate I endured for so long. I shall rip the tongue from your mouth and regain it. And your body? That will be scattered along the Road as was mine. You will never die, but you will never again be alive, either."
The demonic laughter filled the chamber and reverberated down long corridors within the mountain.
And Lan sat with back against rock, feet dangling over the ledge and thought, really thought. The blackness at the edges of his brain lit up a little with the effort. His familiar dancing energy mote returned and cast light where only shadow had been. Lan Martak saw more clearly in that moment because of what Claybore had said.
Claybore was going to scatter his body along the Road? Lan Martak could never die? Could this be so? Had his magical powers grown to such a level that he and, Claybore were alike in this respect?
" I cannot die?" he asked aloud.
From deep within his soul came a stirring, a feathery touch, a gentleness backed with seemingly infinite power. The answer formed and glowed within him like a beacon.
" No, you cannot die. You can oppose them. Do so. Now!"
" What? Who are you?" Lan cried. The sensation had been familiar and yet vastly different from any he had experienced before. He knew the words had been thrust into his head just as Claybore spoke, without physical words, but the feeling was entirely unlike the other mage' s communication.
" You do not hallucinate. Fight Claybore. Fight Tefize. Do it or you will suffer the fate Claybore has decreed for you."
" Help me!" Lan begged.
The power resided within him, but no further encouragement came. Lan again wiped blood from his eyes and peered aloft. Krek hung from a web, suspended over the pit. On the far side stood Claybore and Tefize. The gnome' s entire body burned with an intensity that should have been painful to witness. Lan stared directly into the hot green blaze, into the twin orbs that matched the sun' s intensity, and did so without flinching.
His familiar burst upon him now, ready to renew the battle.
" He fights well," commented Tefize in an offhand manner, " but he is weak. He will fail. Feel him slipping into depression once more?"
" Yes, Lirory. I feel it. So does he," answered Claybore.
But Lan felt only their redoubled efforts to cast their insidious spells. He rose and clapped his hands together. The insects began turning into miniature bombs. One by one, only a few at first, they exploded. With increasing rapidity the insects blew apart, blood and ichor spattering everywhere. Within seconds Lan had magically destroyed the physical manifestations sent to weaken him.
As the final insect burst like an overinflated balloon, Lan sensed something he had not thought possible. Claybore' s fear filled the chamber like a dense, black cloud of dust.
Claybore, master mage, feared him!
Lan laughed aloud and cast forth his light mote. Like a bolt of lightning, it surged directly for Claybore' s cracked, chipped skull.
" Protect me!" the mage screamed at Tefize.
Lan almost fell from the ledge when the gnome' s spell smashed against his defenses. He reeled and had to brace himself against the rock wall. Lirory Tefize did not gloat over the moment' s victory; the gnome sent another counterspell, which turned Lan' s legs rubbery.
He toppled forward into the pit.
Lan was barely aware of swinging freely, being scooped up in midair, and carried over to the far side of the pit.
" Friend Lan Martak, do be more careful," came Krek' s words. But Lan scarcely heard. His attentions focused solely on the pair of sorcerers whom he battled to the death.
Death? Claybore was immortal. And Claybore had let it slip that Lan was himself immortal. How can a battle, even a magical one, be to the death when immortals fight?
" There is eternal pain," came the soft, vibrant words from deep within his head. " Death is surcease. Immortality carries infinite agony."
" Who are you?" Lan demanded. " I should recognize you but I don' t."
" Fight."
Again the voice faded from within his head, and again he felt rejuvenated, refreshed, able to carry the battle without swords to his enemies.
Lan sensed the strange magical twistings in the chamber around him. Claybore prepared to use the Kinetic Sphere to change worlds. Lan dared not let the mage go; finding him along the Road might prove impossible without some tangible link. To get here he had used one of Claybore' s commanders. If the sorcerer successfully shifted worlds, locating him might take centuries- longer.
" You will regret this, Martak!" raged Claybore. The pinkly pulsating sphere within Claybore' s chest cavity glowed as brightly as Tefize' s emerald eyes; then something went wrong. The luster changed subtly, the hue altered, the power diminished.
Lan, Claybore, and Tefize shifted worlds but their bodies remained firmly rooted inside the mountain kingdom of Yerrary.
" What are you doing?" shrieked Claybore, out of control. " You will maroon us all between worlds. Do you want to be lost in the whiteness forever?"