" If we head off parallel to the mountains, we might confuse them for a while," he told his large companion. " We can buy enough time to figure out some way around them."
" If we run away from the mountains, it only compounds our dilemma. Do we not need to make the utmost of haste to reach them? If so, then why dally?" The spider bobbed up and down, his eyes fixed on the distant dust cloud.
" We can' t outrun them."
" I can."
" Then go on, dammit," snapped Lan, irritated. " Go on and leave me to fight them all by myself."
" Very well," said the spider complacently. Sarcasm was lost on Krek.
" Wait, wait," protested Lan. Without the spider' s aid, he had no chance of ever again finding Inyx or combatting Claybore, much less tending to more immediate needs like fighting off their pursuers. " Maybe we can compromise on this."
" Why? You already told me to go on."
" Let' s do it fast, then. I don' t want to be caught in the open by those soldiers."
Lan saddled his horse and trotted alongside Krek, all the while turning over various schemes in his mind. A pitched battle was out of the question. He wasn' t up for it physically. Whether or not Nashira sent along enough magics to subdue him was also a problem to be contended with. She' d shown herself expert in coercive spells; if she turned Krek against him, for instance, all was lost.
Yet Lan didn' t think that to be any real worry. From what he' d seen of Nashira, she might be peeved for a time at his departure, then would go on to other things. Melitarsus was a decadent city. Decadent people had little time for long- standing grudges. Living for the day was too important, unless the momentary flash of hatred brought some new fire to their lives.
Lan Martak shrugged it off. He couldn' t plan when he knew too little. The terrain changed gradually from the meadows and plains to more rocky expanses. Soon enough, huge boulders bulged from the ground and the soil turned thin and barely able to support life. With the decrease in vegetation came a slackening of the grasshoppers. They remained where the foraging was the best; the rocky foothills of the Sulliman Range wasn' t to their liking.
" Let' s rest for a while," said Lan. " This old nag is getting tired." And so was he, though he didn' t like to admit it to the seemingly tireless spider. Krek couldn' t keep up with a gallop, but his stamina far outpaced the mare' s over longer distances at slower speeds. Lan dismounted and led the horse to a small pond of water fed by an artesian spring. After allowing the horse to drink for a minute, he pulled the animal away and tethered her nearby. Then he sated his own thirst.
" Come look, friend Lan Martak," called the spider. Krek had jumped from the floor of the gulch in which they travelled to the top of a large rock with one easy jump. His taloned feet clacked against the rough brown rock, but other than this there hadn' t been any indication of strain on his part.
Lan wasn' t so lucky. He struggled up the curve of the rock, fighting against treacherously loose gravel and leaving enough skin behind to start a new body. When he reached the summit the sight chilled him to the core of his being.
" Those aren' t Nashira' s men," he said in a low, choked voice.
" They do seem to be Claybore' s grey- clad soldiers," agreed Krek.
Their pursuers weren' t likely to drag them back to Melitarsus for further display. The greys would kill them on the spot.
" How do you think they found our trail?"
The spider twitched in wordless reply.
Lan thought hard. While he hadn' t made it any secret that they travelled for Mount Tartanius, only Nashira had been told that outright. Others of her court might have overheard, or she might have mentioned it to them, but what did it matter how the grey- clad soldiers had found out? That they were only a day' s ride behind was all that counted.
" This might be coincidence," said Lan, after considering various possibilities. " If Mount Tartanius is Claybore' s base on this world, they might only be returning."
" Do you believe that?"
" Not for an instant," Lan admitted grimly. The sorcerer wasn' t stupid, by any means. He' d realize that Lan and Inyx had become separated and, if they wanted to rejoin forces, would have to rally at some point. The cenotaph atop Mount Tartanius surfaced as the most likely spot, for a number of reasons. If they wanted off the world, they had to use that cenotaph. Lan hadn' t found any other. Not knowing the world, the cenotaph provided the only unique spot that would attract attention. Hence, Claybore had to have reasoned that Lan, Krek, and Inyx headed for the summit of the mountain.
" We can' t let them report back, Krek, We' ve got to stop them."
As he stared at the clump of grey dots moving along the road, he wondered how they' d do that. All he had was a sword, a nicked knife, sore muscles, and an oversized spider prone to fits of depression.
Their future didn' t look bright.
" We go away from the mountains," protested Krek. " How can we ever scale the loftiest of those peaks without first approaching them?"
" Krek," said Lan patiently, " we' ve got to get rid of the greys on our trail. If we don' t, they' ll soon enough overtake us."
" We can drive them off," said the spider.
" That' s not good enough. If even one escapes, he' ll report back to Claybore. That' ll bring an entire regiment out. Claybore has more men than we can kill. We have to buy time."
" To scale Mount Tartanius?"
" Yes," Lan said, his patience beginning to wear thin. " So we' ll stop the grey- clads following us now and hope that Claybore won' t require them to report back regularly."
" I am not a simpleton," sniffed the spider. " You do not have to speak to me as if I were a child."
" Can you sling a web across this gulley?"
Krek eyed the distance critically, then bobbed his head in assent.
" Then do it!" Lan felt like screaming. The pressure of being pursued wore him down, and the giant arachnid' s sense of values drove him to the brink of insanity.
" You need not be so gruff about it."
A hissing noise filled the air, and a long, sticky strand of webstuff dangled from one side of the ravine to the other. In the sunlight, gleaming rainbows danced off the strand. If Lan calculated properly, the sun would be setting when the greys rode down this ravine. They wouldn' t see the strand until it hit them at shoulder level.
He hoped.
Lan fixed a small dinner, ate in silence, worried. Krek hovered nearby, his movements jerky and nervous. Neither of them waited particularly well. Lan was on the point of commenting about that when the first distant sounds of hooves on rock reached him.
" They' re coming."
" Six of them," said the spider, his claws shoved down hard onto the rock. He sensed the vibrations made by the horses and interpreted it with great accuracy. " They arrive in a few minutes. Are you ready, friend Lan Martak? I have no stomach for more wanton killing."
" Your strand' s still up?"
" Of course," the spider said disdainfully. " My hunting webs always stay up until my prey is trapped. You are a fine one to criticize my expertise. Who was it who-"
" Quiet!"
The horses galloped forward. Lan stood, slipping both sword and knife from their sheaths. He stood in the center of a sandy pit, waiting, ready. His hands shook slightly when he saw the dark figures outlined against the setting sun. Everything rested on the attacking soldiers' not seeing Krek' s web.
The commander of the patrol waved a free hand. They galloped forth, screaming, cheering, proclaiming their victory. Lan listened to their cries and shuddered. Claybore had promised vast rewards for his capture. That made him feel warm inside, knowing that he posed such a threat to the powerful mage. It also chilled him. These soldiers wouldn' t retreat now that they' d found him.