" I cannot see the future. That is perpetually closed to me, but I know the present. You worry overmuch about Martak." Claybore' s fingers wove a set of glowing interlocked triangles in the air. The shadow creature he had conjured snarled and started for Lirory.
The gnome stepped back, felt cold rock against his spine, and began defensive movements. He had walked myriad worlds, seeking knowledge. Alone of all those populating Yerrary he had accumulated vast magical lore, but even his most potent spells failed to stop the inexorable advance of Claybore' s beast.
Lirory Tefize stared at it in wonder and horror. His vision went through its pseudo- flesh and stared out onto a thousand other worlds, yet the substantial fangs and talons ripping gouges in the rock floor were all too real. Eyes of black blazed with strange emotion.
What did such a beast feel? Tefize only guessed it had to be frustration, anger, hatred at all living beings existing on only one world.
The eyes opened onto all those worlds and, at the same time, remained curiously flat.
Tefize straightened, trying to avoid the claws as one misty paw raked outward toward him. The lightest of touches on his belly sent chills racing to his very soul.
" It cannot be killed because it does not live. Not exactly. Let Martak conjure his elementals. They exist only on one plane. My friend crosses over into many!"
Tefize heard the insanity in Claybore' s tone, but did not respond to it. The deceptively small magical creature hunkered down in front of him, gathering strength for a leap at his throat. Tefize muttered continual protective wards now. It seemed that each was sucked into a bottomless vortex and only the creature remained. Unharmed. Raging at all material life.
" Do not harm him, my little one," soothed Claybore. " Lirory is our friend. Aren' t you, Lirory?"
" Friendship is a word too strong to describe our relationship, Claybore," said the sorcerer gnome. " Let us say our relationship is based on mutual distrust and personal greed."
" Greed? No, not you, Lirory. Not I. We are beyond greed for material things. We seek power, that heady wine of which there is no fill." Claybore cackled and motioned, leaving red and green streamers behind from each fingertip. The shadow hound backed away, eyes still boring into Tefize.
" We deal for mutual gain," said Lirory, his uneasiness fading now. He still had what Claybore desired most in all the universe. Without the legs, the sorcerer would never come close to realizing his ambition. The magically powered mechanical contraption holding torso, arms, and skull would break down all too soon. Even the most casual of observers could see the bent struts and rusted gearwheels.
And beyond mere movement, his real legs contributed to Claybore' s magics.
" It will require some time to retrieve your legs," said Lirory Tefize. " After I found the arms, I took great care to place them in the pit where no casual seeker would stumble over them. With your legs, I exercised even more diligence in hiding them."
" Really?" said Claybore. The sorcerer spun around on mechanical knees, the ruby beams seeking forth from empty eye sockets. The death rays launched themselves through rock in an upward direction. " My legs are along this path."
" Of course you can sense their presence," Tefize said suavely, hiding his consternation at Claybore' s easy discovery. " Getting them free without damaging them is something else again. I assure you the spells are intricate."
" The legs cannot be destroyed," said Claybore.
" You lie," snapped Lirory. " But even if that were true, they can be hidden along the Road. My spell will throw them at random onto another world. You can seek them out, yes. But have you the hundredsor thousands- of years to do so?"
" I am immortal."
" You claimed Martak was, also. Will he give you the chance to go hunting?" Lirory Tefize shrewdly discerned the reaction in the dismembered sorcerer and saw he had struck a nerve. " Martak' s power grows daily without need of retrieving his bodily parts. If you desire more magics, you must recover other segments of your original self."
" You will get your worlds to rule," snapped Claybore. " I have promised this."
" What game are you playing with Martak? Why didn' t you destroy him when you had the chance? Playing a cat and mouse with one so dangerous is foolhardy."
" If he bothers you so, Lirory, go and eliminate him. You have my permission."
Lirory Tefize studied the cracked, chipped skull for some hint of treachery. No glimmering of emotion showed to give a clue as to Claybore' s motives, but the gnome felt secure as long as he controlled the mage' s legs. Giving up the arms had been necessary to defeat Martak- temporarily- but Claybore would pay dearly for his legs. Dearly, indeed.
" You will not care if I destroy him?" asked Tefize.
" I' ve already dispatched one of my lieutenants to do so. If you can aid her, fine. Do so." Claybore made a small motion of dismissal. Tefize almost staggered under the magical impact of that gesture. That brought home to him how dangerous was the game he played; but the gnome had defeated all the other mages of Yerrary. Claybore would prove no different.
" This lieutenant of yours," he asked. " I assume it is the woman, Kiska k' Adesina?"
" Her hatred for Martak knows no limits. I decided to give him to her as a token of my gratitude for her loyalty."
Lirory knew the other sorcerer lied. Whatever went on, it would be more complicated than simply allowing one of his commanders sporting a hate for Martak to vent it. But what? Lirory Tefize didn' t know.
" Martak will die," he said, regaining his balance and starting back for the chamber. Already the gnome formed the spells that would reduce the upstart mage to a smoldering cinder. The human was adequate in his spells, but Lirory had experience. And with exhaustion preventing Martak from fully conjuring at the height of his ability, Tefize had no doubt the battle would end quickly, as it should have before.
Claybore watched his ally depart. If that fleshless skull had possessed lips, they would have been drawn back in a sardonic smirk. Claybore turned in the direction of his legs, bathed in their wondrous radiance, pivoted, and went in a different direction, heading downward inside the hollowed- out mountain, down, down, down to the bowels of Yerrary.
Claybore followed a path through the tumbled rock and partially excavated passages, his metallic legs clicking with effort. But his newly rewon arms aided him. A pass here, a gesture there and rocks turned to dust. He used precious energy in this display of magic, but the mage didn' t care. Simply having the power once more was an end in and of itself.
The gnomes had neglected this portion of their mountain keep for decades- perhaps longer. Dust lay heavily wherever Claybore stepped, but the skull did not breathe, did not sneeze as the clouds billowed up around his hideous half- human, half- mechanized form. As he approached a small rock cairn, his steps slowed. Finally halting a few paces away, he simply stared at the ancient heap.
Ruby beams lashed out at the rock pile and blasted it to gravel. Beneath where the rocks had been lay a cavity rimmed with a low wall, a pit dropping into the center of the planet itself. Claybore hesitantly advanced. Gone was all bravado. The shows of power were past. As much as any time in his existence he felt fear now, real fear at what lay trapped within this pit.
The sorcerer bent forward at the hips and peered into the infinite blackness of the pit. He saw nothing. Spinning suddenly, his death beams lashing forth, he sighted on a small rodent. The creature let out a frenzied squeal, then keeled over. Claybore gently picked up the stunned form and squeezed with his hands. The feel of fur and living flesh beneath his fingers after so many eons thrilled him. He wanted to keep squeezing until life crushed from the rat. But he stopped. There was a better use for the creature.