" You' re trying to tell me these mountain arachnids might like humans even less."
" That puts it succinctly enough. Of course, they will welcome me. I am a visiting Webmaster. We spiders arrange the proper protocol, always. As long as it is clear I have no intention of remaining in the area for very long, the local Webmaster will greet me like a longlost cousin. Which I am."
Lan considered what he remembered of the lay of the land. The valley ahead provided the quickest route to Bron, a distance not more than two days' travel. Krek' s not too subtle hints had lit the fires of anguish inside him; he must hasten to rejoin Inyx to put them to rest. But skirting the valley and finding another road through the mountains might cost precious days- or even weeks.
" I' m sure you can convince them that I, too, am just passing through and pose no threat to them. I might even be able to gift them in some way, using a few of my spells."
" Such as your fire spell?" Krek' s voice almost broke from the loathing. The only thing he hated worse than water was fire. His tinder- dry leg fur would turn him into a blazing bonfire if he became too careless.
" I had other things in mind. A hunting spell might please them. I could roust out all the insects in the valley and trot them down for your friends."
" They might not be my friends."
" Your fellow spiders," Lan corrected. " I' m sure such a tradethe bugs for safe passage- would be satisfactory for all parties."
Krek hesitated, then bobbed his head in agreement. Lan couldn' t tell how enthusiastic the spider was about the idea, but it hardly mattered. Lan felt the pressure of time mounting on him again, and not just to rejoin his beloved. Claybore fought on two fronts. If one should turn into a victory for the mage, he might spend more time seeking out Lan.
" Let' s be off."
Krek didn' t answer.
A full day of hiking brought them to the lip of a valley as lush and pretty as any Lan Martak had ever seen. The tiny stream meandering down the center caused huge trees to thrust skyward. From these limbs soared spider webs as thick as his wrist. Fastened on valley walls, trees, rock spires, each other, those webs crisscrossed the entire air above the floor. Caught in the webs were birds of prey as large as the dire- eagles that inhabited the el- Liot Mountains on Lan' s home world. He thanked all the powers of the universe that he need not rely on wing power to get through the canyon.
" Down?" asked Krek.
" Of course. Polish up on your spider talk. I see a delegation coming now." The human pointed at three tiny black dots that grew with amazing rapidity until they took on detail as full- sized arachnids rivaling Krek in bulk.
" Stay here," ordered the spider. He ambled forward and planted himself a few yards away. While his friend waited, Lan studied the webs more carefully. Some strands were sticky while others- the aerial walkways for the spiders- were simply ropelike. The intricate geometric patterns appeared to be the individual spinner' s signature, just as a human painter signed his oils. When Lan' s eyes tired of tracing the spirals and twists, he focused once more on his friend.
Krek spoke with great animation to two of the three. The third spider remained high above in his web, a sentry to guard against treachery. Lan understood none of the rapid talk but guessed that it went well. Krek was relaxed and the object of some deference. His theory of being greeted as a wandering Webmaster turned into fact.
" How goes it?" Lan asked, his voice pitched to carry downslope to where Krek and the others hunkered down and talked.
In a deceptively mild, unhurried response, Krek called back, " I advise you to run for your life, friend Lan Martak. These are honorable friends- of mine. Toward you they show nothing but animosity. I do believe they wish to eat you, even though I have warned them you carry a foul taste."
" What?"
" I do not jest. Run for your life. I shall try to dissuade them, but even my talents in this arena might prove too small."
The youth hesitated, not sure if Krek made fun of him or not. A quick look overhead convinced him of his danger. The sentry spider had spun a walking web between his perch and a rock to Lan' s right. The arachnid balanced on the thick strand and came straight for the human. The intent was all too clear.
Lan' s mind raced. A fire spell would burn the web out from under the spider. It might also set fire to other webs. A conflagration raging through the valley might kill many of the spiders trapped on their webs. While he had no desire to murder them, he had even less desire to be killed by them.
Behind was the terrain they had covered since entering the mountains. He might return to the spring they' d first encountered and from there reenter the desert and follow Inyx to Bron. Or he might push on, hope that Krek could stay them long enough, and reach the far side of the valley and be days closer to Bron.
His decision made, Lan Martak ran forward, dodging past Krek and the others and down into the valley. He sprinted hard, enjoying the feel of his muscles so smoothly responding. When he entered the worlds of magic, he had scant use for muscle. The power of the mind was all. But he had grown up in forests, living by his wits and strong arm, enjoying rare- cooked haunch of deer and other game.
He smiled in relief when he saw no pursuit formed behind. Both spiders continued to talk with Krek and the guard above remained high on the rim of the valley and did not drop down to chase him.
Lan fell into a ground- devouring pace that allowed him to move with fluid, effortless grace. Around him the tranquility of the forests supplied him with new power, new stamina. Occasionally a shadow of an overhead spider web crossed his path, but these were rare. When he reached the far side, he' d wait for Krek to catch up.
Would he gloat then! Krek always chided him for being so slow, for not having the proper number of legs to adequately propel him. For once he' d beat Krek.
The sounds of the forest died suddenly. Lan ran a few paces, then stopped, listening hard for the cause of this disturbing inactivity. He heard nothing. Frowning, he scanned the trees and underbrush hoping for a sign of what was wrong. Nothing.
Then he remembered to look above.
The sky blackened with the massive bodies of a thousand spiders. They swung from web to web until they congregated above him, blocking out the sun. It was as if night had fallen in midday.
" No," he whispered, holding back the spells that would send gouts of flame leaping upward. Wanton killing would solve nothing; he realized the futility of attempting to slay so many opponents.
Frantically looking around, he saw a tiny stream wetly thrusting itself out from a rocky face in the canyon wall, a minor tributary feeding the larger creek in the middle of the valley. He sprinted for it, hoping the spiders would stay away from the water. On their aerial highway, they were not in the least inconvenienced. Heavy strands spatted onto the rock face beside him. Spiders began sliding downward toward him, intent on their pursuit.
Lan jerked free his sword and slashed at the strand nearest him. His blade cleanly sliced through, sending the spider tumbling to the valley floor behind. He eliminated another and another of the strands in this fashion until it occurred to him that he only signed his own death warrant.
There was no way he could cut all the strands. For every one he hacked, two more were firmly secured to the rock wall just beyond his reach. In minutes, he would be surrounded by spiders.
He had seen Krek' s mandibles break a steel sword.
The stream burbled mindlessly as it made its way to the valley floor. Lan looked up, into the reaches from whence it sprang. A tiny opening, hardly large enough for his muscular body gave him a small chance for escape. He clumsily worked up a narrow chimney with the water flowing between his legs, found the opening, and began wiggling through.