Lan Martak saw the woman' s response came from finally realizing that Krek was something other than human. In the heat of battle and the shocked interregnum after, there had been little enough time to do more than slump in exhaustion. Now that the battle fury and tiredness wore off, logical processes resumed. And the arachnid did not arouse good feelings in any of the natives of this world. All reached for daggers and swords, hands restlessly stroking hilts in preparation for the order to attack.
" Hold," said Jacy Noratumi, his voice sharp. " It is with these, our friends." Lan noticed that the man' s shining amber eyes locked firmly on Inyx when he spoke.
Krek could not remain silent at being termed an " it." The formless lump he had collapsed into stirred, legs extended to propel the spider to his full height; sand showered down on them. Krek dominated the scene, anger returning.
" I am Webmaster of the Egrii Mountains," he said with the cut of a sword in his usually mild voice.
" You are:" began Margora. But the woman' s words were drowned by the shouts of sentries.
" The grey- clads return," Noratumi said. " Our differences are to be placed aside until after we finish off our foes." He indicated the approaching dust cloud that partly cloaked the mounted forms of Claybore' s soldiers.
Lan moved closer to Inyx, but Jacy had already interposed himself. Lan had no chance to comment; a thundering wave of riders crashed against their pathetic defenses like a hurricane- tossed wave on a house of cards. His sword sang a bloody tune, hacking, driving, parrying, sometimes finding targets, sometimes successfully preventing an enemy' s sword from finding his flesh.
Even with Krek' s potent fighting ability thrown into the fray, the battle went against those on the ground.
" There, Lan, look!" came Inyx' s cry. The young warrior- mage turned to see where she pointed with her gore- encrusted blade. Pounding down on them was Alberto Silvain. Lan felt magical powers welling inside, but he fought them; he had no time and couldn' t afford to expend the energy needed for a proper spell.
He relied on his trusty sword. Steel flashed in the bright desert sun. A hard jolt rattled his teeth as his sword edge slashed into Silvain' s horse. The blade nearly severed the right front leg just above the knee. Horse and rider cartwheeled forward, but Lan lost hold of his sword in the maelstrom of flying bodies.
Silvain hit on his shoulders and rolled smoothly, coming to his feet. He, too, had lost his sword, but not his dagger. Claybore' s henchman swiftly drew his knife, lifted a brawny arm, and lungedstraight for Inyx' s unprotected back.
" Inyx!" screamed Lan, but even as the name ripped from his throat he knew the warning could never save her. Silvain was too close, too fast, too deadly.
CHAPTER TWO
Lan Martak felt as if the world turned in jerky motions about him. The heat of the battle seemed distant, the death and blood a product of a nightmare half- remembered. Helpless to intercede, he saw Alberto Silvain pull forth a gleaming silver dagger and drive it directly for Inyx' s kidney. Lan' s mind worked in a frenzy, but to no avail. No spell came to his lips quickly enough to stop Silvain. No weapon was at hand. The distance was too great. Inyx would die.
" Inyx!" he heard, as if the warning came from another' s lips. The dark- haired woman started to twist about, but had only begun the motion as Silvain drove forward with deadly intent.
Lan thought his own fervent hopes had caused him to see what he wanted to see rather than the reality of his lover' s death. With Silvain fractions of an inch away from his target, a blinding silver arc swept downward, deflecting the dagger. Even through the din of battle, Lan heard the harsh grating of metal against metal. Silvain' s dagger flew from his grip.
Jacy Noratumi laughed delightedly at the sight of Alberto Silvain' s confusion and rage.
" So, grey shit- eater, you think to rob one so lovely of her life? With a foul blow to the back? Meet me, face to face, and I shall show you true valor. For once in your miserable life you should witness it!"
Noratumi' s blade swung at shoulder level, forcing Silvain to duck under or lose his head. The grey- clad officer dived, rolled, and retrieved a fallen sword. By this time, Inyx had taken in the closeness of her death and how best to prevent Silvain from again attempting it.
She swung her own blade in a low arc. Silvain had to do a quick double hop- step to avoid losing a leg. As he moved, so did Noratumi. The sallow man dashed in, blade held straight in front of him like a razor- sharp battering ram. Between Noratumi and Inyx, they kept Claybore' s henchman stumbling, retreating, fighting simply to preserve his own miserable life.
Lan heaved a sigh of relief at this and went to yank his own blade free from the downed horse' s leg. He planted his foot on the animal' s side and yanked hard. With a tearing, grinding sound, his weapon pulled loose. He spun about to see where best his talents could be used, but the battle was quickly winding down. To his left, Krek slashed and dismembered a half- dozen of the grey- clads. The others of Jacy Noratumi' s band fought with wild abandon, as if the thought of death had never occurred to them. This ferocity and selflessness forced Claybore' s troops ever backward.
Amid the coppery tang of fallen blood, Lan inhaled and smelled the lushness of the oasis once again. This time it almost sickened him. The blood, the sweat of terror, the heated metal all ruined what had once been a soothing odor. He closed his eyes and let the tide of battle wash over him, past him, around him. The sounds decreased as Silvain' s soldiers mounted and fled, leaving behind only Noratumi' s gasping warriors. A hot breeze whipped at his tattered clothing and burned at his skin, but Lan didn' t mind that. He lived. Inyx and Krek lived.
And so did Claybore somewhere on this world.
" Inyx!" he called, opening his eyes and peering about. The warrior woman leaned casually on her sword, Jacy Noratumi nearby. The two talked earnestly, Noratumi moving slightly closer every few sentences. Lan Martak joined them.
" Thank you," he said to Noratumi.
" For what? The battle? It ought to have done us in, but luck- or the Four Fates- were with us. I favor the idea of luck being on our side. The Fates have not been good to Bron' s legions of late."
" Who can ever be thankful for a battle? No, I thank you for saving her life." He looked at Inyx. The woman had never appeared more alive, more lovely, more desirable. The battle had brought a flush to her cheeks and a ripe fullness to her figure. If there had ever truly been one born to do battle, Lan knew it was Inyx. She had lost brothers and family and walked the Road and never once looked back on her misfortunes; she lived by her wit and quick sword. In its way, this fighting prowess had substituted for the lack of family by giving her something to count on.
" I' ve already given my thanks, Lan," she said. Her vivid blue eyes bored into his softer brown ones. " But thank you for the thought."
" Milady says you are something of a sorcerer. Can you bring back the dead?"
" What?" Lan snapped out of his reverie. The tone Noratumi had taken in asking the question reminded him of the woman Margora' s when referring to Krek. " I' m no necromancer. The dead remain so. Why do you ask that question?"
" We have no love for sorcerers, either." Noratumi' s eyes lifted from Lan up and past his shoulder to where Krek meticulously wiped himself free of the blood on thorax and legs.
" This place seems to be much divided," Lan said cautiously. " You war with spiders. You have no liking for mages. You engage the greyclads whenever possible."
" That is an adequate summation." Noratumi moved a half- step closer to Inyx. " The sorcerers kidnap us and force us into slavery. The spiders eat us." The distaste with which he spoke was obvious. " We have no love of either. And then come these interlopers, these grey butchers. The empire of Bron stands against all three!"