" You' ve never been on a world with the mountain spiders?" Inyx raised one eyebrow in surprise, then remembered how few worlds she' d seen with the spiders. Without Krek and Lan accompanying her, she might never have found even a single valley filled with the monstrous webs and the incredibly fragile- appearing aerial walkways traveled by the beasts.
" I' ve seen some odd things, but nothing to compare."
" He' s not odd," she snapped. " Sorry," Inyx said in a softer tone. " This is making me edgy. I can understand swordplay. I can even understand courtly intrigues and the backstabbing of politics, but dealing with Krek is different." She turned toward Ducasien and almost whispered, " He' s my friend."
" You don' t want to see him hurt. I understand that," said Ducasien. " How can I help?"
" What? You don' t have to. This isn' t your fight."
" I want to make it my fight," he said, looking directly into her vivid blue eyes. Inyx felt the current of emotion flowing between them and fought it. She didn' t want it. Not like this. She had other battles to fight, other loves to win- loves that had been won. Lan wandered inside this hollowed mountain, needing her. That he had dismissed Krek in such a cavalier fashion indicated that.
Not for a moment did Inyx believe Lan had abandoned Krek. Put a geas on him to save him, yes. That was fully within her powers to understand. Lan might even have said something in the heat of battle that the spider had misinterpreted. Krek' s mind was not human; his thoughts followed devious paths not shared by nonarachnids.
" Krek," she said, " tell me everything that happened."
The spider lamented a bit further, then finally unraveled the tale of battle at the rim of the pit.
": the ledge crumbled away so I swung out on a strand of web and dangled over the pit waiting for him. When I called, he: he dismissed me."
" Do you remember his exact words?" asked Ducasien.
Krek turned one eye toward the man and said, " I do not know you."
Inyx spoke quickly to introduce them. Krek remained in his despondent state.
" I ask only to help you," said Ducasien. " There might be a clue in the manner of his speech, the way he said the words. After all, you were in mortal combat. The slightest of mistakes might have meant both your deaths."
" That is the odd thing," said Krek. " Claybore said that Lan Martak could never die. It: it affected him so strangely. He both grew in stature and shrank."
" Shrank?" asked Inyx, puzzled.
" He took on greater magical abilities. I felt the ebb and flow of his power as if it were some palpable force. But something fled from within him, too. He became diminished from what he had been."
" That' s the answer," said Inyx. " Claybore cast a spell on him."
" I sense magic. The tide of battle did not go in that direction. This was something within Lan Martak. And that was when he tossed me aside like a well- gnawed insect carcass." Krek pulled in his long legs until he occupied a space hardly larger than the length of Inyx' s sword. Anyone passing by in the corridor might even mistake Krek for a coppery colored boulder.
" What do you think?" Inyx asked of Ducasien.
" Magic is alien to me. I know only what I have overheard and most of that is boast or outright lie. Never have I actually confronted a sorcerer."
" You are new along the Road," said Inyx. " In spite of what Krek says, I don' t think Lan willingly chased him off. To protect him, yes. To warn us, yes. But I know Lan. He would never ignore a friend in need."
" People change," said Ducasien.
Inyx turned and her eyes flashed angrily.
" Lan did it to protect him. I know it."
Ducasien fell silent and Inyx' s anger cooled. She worked over the events in her mind and came to an uneasy realization. Lan Martak had changed since she' d met him. While their love had deepened and taken on an intimacy she had never dreamed of- the mental link between them when they were together revealed both their most intimate thoughtsLan was not the man she had met so long ago. He had grown and in that growth had changed. His magical powers demanded more of him than she' d thought any human could deliver. He had delivered and kept on growing in ability. Had he reached the point where he no longer controlled the forces flowing about him? Did the magics now control him?
" Could he truly be immortal?" asked Ducasien, breaking the woman' s train of thought. " I have heard of such but, well, I believed those to be wild tales told over a mug of wine."
" Immortal? Lan? Hardly," she said, but the words rang hollow and she felt fear gripping at her belly. The cold within refused to go away because Inyx worried that Lan might have become more than mortal. Immortal? If so, he was lost to her forever. She would be only an ephemera in his life, a moment' s diversion in an eternity of experience. Would he even remember her name in a thousand years? In a hundred?
She shook off such nonsense. Lan was not immortal.
" There are-" began Ducasien, but his words were cut off by a wild cry echoing down the stony corridor. The sound of heavy boots clattered and scraped against rock and soon enough Broit Heresler stumbled into view.
" Help," he gasped out. " We have been attacked. The Tefize clan invaded our territory. They try to kill us all!"
The gnome had been battered almost beyond recognition. Crimson flowed in spurting streams over his face and soaked his collar and shoulders. His right hand rested limply within his tunic and his left arm carried a deep cut caked over with dried blood.
" You know this one?" asked Ducasien, his sword out and pointed at Broit.
" Yes, he befriended us outside. We fought together and then got separated within the mountain."
" Which clan is he?" asked Ducasien.
" Heresler. The gravediggers." Inyx saw the tall man relax a bit, his sword point dropping from target. " What do you know of them?"
" They are friendly enough," Ducasien answered, " and have helped me a time or two. The Tefize kill any who stray into their corridors. The Nichi are little better."
" You' ll come to our assistance?" asked Broit Heresler, falling to his knees and almost fainting from the pain caused by his wounds.
" Inyx?" The man looked at the dark- haired woman for her response.
" We' ll help. What else can we do? We need friends inside Yerrary and the Hereslers are our best bet."
" The Heresler clan will not forget this. We will give you the finest funeral, the best grave site, the most pallbearers of any of those whom we have buried. I promise it!"
" How touching," Ducasien said dryly.
" It' s their life," said Inyx, cautioning the man not to make further comment on this. " Where is the fighting?"
Broit Heresler pointed in the direction he had come.
" Krek? Will you aid us? Our friends need us."
" Lan Martak does not need us. He does not need me. He told me to go away as if I were a mere spider, a servant; worse!"
" I need you. The Heresler clan needs you. And we' ll find Lan and get this straightened out."
" There is nothing to straighten out, friend Inyx." Krek heaved himself to his feet and shook like a dog just out of a pond. " Of course I will fight alongside you. You are all that I have left."
Inyx didn' t want to argue with the spider. She patted him on one nearby leg and then helped Broit Heresler to his feet. The gnome tottered precariously but showed more strength in walking than she' d given him credit for. The rolling gait reminded her of a sailor long at sea finally come ashore, but Broit managed to make good time in spite of his unsteadiness caused by his wounds. Within minutes she heard the first sounds of battle.