" Surrender, dog!" cried the nearest.
Lan stood and said nothing.
The front three came thundering between the rocks. For a split second, nothing happened. Then the three dangled in midair, their horses continuing on without them. The men fought desperately to escape the sticky strand of hunting web. The more they struggled, the more entangled they became.
Those three wouldn' t contribute to the fight; the remaining three avoided the web, ducking beneath and racing past.
" Here goes nothing," said Lan, bracing himself. He slashed out, not even attempting for chivalry. His life depended on this contest. His sword caught the lead rider' s horse squarely in the chest. The horse let out a wet cough, then somersaulted, taking the soldier with it. Rider and horse were out of action, but Lan lost his sword, which remained buried to the hilt in the animal' s chest. He faced two mounted and armed greys with only a knife.
" Surrender, fool, or we' ll spit you like a pig," barked the one nearest.
" Is talk all you have to offer?" said Lan. He took a desperate chance. His knife spun through the air. For a heart- stopping instant, Lan thought the knife had missed its tiny target. The man sat upright in his saddle, then slumped. The blade had flown true and buried point first in his right eye. An impossible throw, but luck finally turned in Lan' s favor.
" That leaves us," he said to the remaining grey. He' d never figured out the ranking system the soldiers used. This one had four red stripes and a star on the left sleeve- and a glinting saber in the right hand. The setting sun caught the cutting edge of the sword and turned it blood- red, an omen Lan Martak didn' t care for.
The soldier attacked without voicing any warning. There was hardly any need. They both knew that one of them would die.
Lan ducked at the last moment, the saber cutting through the air above his head. He launched himself upward, groping for the grey. Fingers slipped off cloth, and he landed on the horse' s haunches. Only an agile twist carried him away before the animal' s hind legs kicked out.
The soldier spun and came at him again.
" Krek, do something!" he shouted to his companion. The spider cowered at the perimeter of the sandy pit, hunkered down into a brown lump indistinguishable from any of the other rocks in the twilight.
" I cannot, friend Lan Martak. I quiver at the memory of the torment I have caused."
" Nashira forced you, Krek. It wasn' t your fault," argued Lan. The next attack caught him flatfooted. Heavy steel blade slapped alongside his head. Dazed, he dropped to his knees, neck exposed. As the grey came back for the killing blow, the spider rose up to full height. The horse shied, bucked, tossed its rider. Blowing foam, the animal charged back down the ravine in the direction it had come.
" I can do no more," came the baleful words.
Lan' s fingers tightened on a fallen sword. He didn' t know who it had belonged to, nor did it matter. It hefted poorly, out of balance, and it didn' t matter. He had a fighting chance again. Still shaky, he got to his feet and faced the remaining soldier.
Lan Martak had no chance to come en garde. He blocked a clumsy saber slash, turned, and found himself wrestling on the ground.
" I will never surrender!" cried the soldier in a high voice. Lan saw that the officer he fought was a woman. For an instant, he slackened his attack. She twisted like a tiger, drove her knee upward into his belly, then punched for his throat.
He caught a slender wrist and forced it behind her back. Holding her in an armlock, he finally caught his breath.
" Stop it or I' ll break your arm off and beat you to death with it," he warned.
Her struggles lessened, but the tenseness remained.
" Kill me, if you will, but there are others. Many others. You will die, lover of animals."
Lan frowned. Her intensity spoke of personal hatred. He' d seen soldiers doing their duty and nothing more, soldiers devoted to their leaders, soldiers passionately involved in their assignments, but none had ever carried the personal hatred this woman did.
" Do I know you?" he asked.
" Pig!"
" It seems she is lacking in knowledge of anatomy," commented Krek. " She has mistaken you for one of your porcine cousins." The spider lurched over and stood before the woman. " You see, dear lady, this fellow is possessed of only two legs, not unlike yourself. He-"
" Krek," snapped Lan, impatient. " She knows biology. That was intended as an insult. I' m trying to find out why."
" Oh." The spider sank to the ground and watched the imponderable humans go about their odd mating rituals.
" I could die happily knowing I' d sent you to the Lower Places, Lan Martak."
" You know my name. That' s not surprising since Claybore has put out a sizable reward for me. I overheard you mention it just before your squad attacked."
" I' d skewer you for free!"
" So," Lan went on, never lessening his hold on the woman' s arm, " you know me personally. The reward doesn' t matter. Yet I' ve never seen you before in my life. Why do you hate me so?"
" You killed Lyk Surepta."
Lan Martak relaxed his grip in shock at the words. The soldier spun, kicked him, and went for his throat. It took another full minute of struggling to again bring her under control.
" What was Surepta to you?" Lan' s voice hardened at the memory of the grief that man had caused him. Run him out of his home, killed both lover and half- sister, tried to rape Inyx- the indictment against Surepta was impressive. Lan felt no regret at having killed the man.
" My husband!" The woman tried to spit in Lan' s face. He held her shoulders pinned to the ground with his knees. With one hand he turned her jaw enough so that she could neither bite nor spit. " I' ll avenge his foul murder!"
" I had no idea Surepta was married. From his raping, he didn' t act like it."
" Lies!"
" Did he meet you in Waldron' s service?"
" Yes."
Lan mentally filled in the story. He' d certainly never get it from this unwilling woman. Surepta had been given a generalship in Waldron' s army of conquest- in reality, Claybore' s army- and had met this spitfire. They' d married, and Lan had killed Surepta for all his crimes. Waldron or someone close to him had told her who was responsible. She now took it on herself to personally vindicate her husband' s death.
Lan knew it would do no good trying to dissuade her. Her mind had become fixed on revenge. It' d do even less good to tell her he' d gotten no particular thrill out of Surepta' s death. He' d killed and hadn' t enjoyed the vengeance.
" What' s your name?"
" Kiska k' Adesina. I want you to know the name of your killer, pig!"
" She still has you confused with the cloven- hoofed-"
" Shut up, Krek." Lan peered down at the woman. Somehow, he couldn' t believe Surepta had married her. It mattered little. Kiska k' Adesina was driven by revenge, whatever the cause. She had mousebrown hair, now dirtied and matted, brown eyes that might be lovely if the hatred ever died in them, a thin- lipped mouth, delicate bones and a slightly curving nose, a long, slender neck and a svelte build that might be seductive if she wore other than the grey uniform. He remembered the half- seen grey commander in Melitarsus, outside the inn. He' d wondered briefly then; now he knew. He held Claybore' s commander in his arms. " The spider is hardly an expert. His wife' s trying to eat him," Lan said, trying to soften the mood. His brief overture to her didn' t work.
" A woman must defend her husband. You' re a dead man, Lan Martak."
He heaved a sigh. What to do with Kiska k' Adesina proved a problem. He could hardly kill her in cold blood. He hadn' t the stomach for that. Letting her loose only meant more trouble. Either she' d dog his trail trying to slay him or she' d report back to Claybore. The sorcerer wouldn' t make any mistakes this time. Lan was as good as dead if Claybore located him.