As suddenly as the force had paralyzed him, it vanished. Lan groaned and fell face down onto the hard rock. He was aware of Krek standing over him, guarding him, trying to figure out what new malady assailed his fragile human friend.
Lan pushed his way up to hands and knees. He felt as if his innards had turned to molasses. Shaking in reaction, he turned over painfully and sat upright.
" Friend Lan Martak, are you all right?"
" No," he said. " Yes. I don' t know."
" Magic?"
" You sensed it, then." Lan knew that the spider' s ability to sense the cenotaphs was more acute than any magical gift he possessed; that sensing of cenotaphs had to be only the edge of a more developed magical talent.
" I did. The sensation was not unlike walls closing in all around. I felt as if I might be crushed. No specific threat posed itself, yet I tensed in fear. Never have I felt so weak, so miserable, not even when forced to slay in the arenas of the Suzerain of Melitarsus. How is it I left my web in the Egrii Mountains? How, how, how? Oh, woe!"
" Krek, calm down. Everything' s all right now. The spells have passed. I wonder if I don' t owe our new friend a little thanks for saving me from Claybore." He looked across the rocky flat to AbasiAbi' s camp. The self- proclaimed sorcerer hunched over near a fire, head down, appearing little more than a grey lump in the evening shadows. The sun set rapidly and the blood- red cast turned to thick blackness.
" The winds of magic blow strongly about this peak," said Krek.
" I couldn' t agree more," said Lan, finally getting a measure of strength back. " And I fear this is only the opening round of a more deadly battle."
He and the spider joined Ehznoll in a meager, tasteless dinner.
" Mount Tartanius is not easily scaled," said Lan. " Look at that traverse. It requires the entire party to be roped together. If one slips, then the others on either side can prevent tragedy. Even then, it' ll take hours to cross."
Abasi- Abi frowned. His eyes darted across the indicated area of mountain, then downward to the slope where they currently rested. He worked it out in his own mind whether or not Lan' s approach merited more than sarcastic dismissal.
" We can make it without such precautions."
" Try it and your guides will be dead. Are they so inexperienced?"
" Are you so knowledgeable?" shot back the sorcerer. Lan felt a sharp pain in his chest, along with the bright glow of magic. As the man spoke, he uttered spells. His anger had overflowed and allowed a spell to be directed against Lan. Lan began muttering counter spells of his own. The pain slowly went away. The sorcerer' s eyes widened slightly in disbelief, but he made no comment about the protective spells.
" Yes," Lan said firmly. " I' ve spent much time on my home world climbing mountains. In the el- Liot Mountains I' ve scaled all but the highest."
" Were any like this peak?"
" I' ve never seen a mountain this large," admitted Lan. " But the techniques used for smaller expeditions are the same. Separately, neither of our parties will reach the summit. Together, we stand a chance. A slim one, considering the dangers, but a chance."
" What do you know of the dangers?" Abasi- Abi paced to and fro, hands locked behind his back, head down.
" Dangers?" called out Ehznoll. " There are none. The sweet earth prevents harm from coming to us. And our new god is atop the mountain, waiting for us."
Lan glanced from the pilgrim to Abasi- Abi. The sorcerer didn' t inquire as to the identity of this " new god." Either he cared little about the earth religion or he knew that Ehznoll spoke of Claybore. Lan Martak couldn' t decide which it was. The potent magics being tossed back and forth had continued throughout the night. He knew he sensed only the fringes of that magic; a duel of titanic proportions built.
" Is your reason for scaling the peak worth the risk?" asked Lan of the sorcerer.
" We all ascend for valid reasons."
Lan didn' t press the issue. Abasi- Abi was hardly a likeable man, and his occasional fits of ire might prove deadly. Lan rubbed the spot on his chest where the magical bolt had hit. While the skin remained unblemished, the innards felt as if he' d been burned. If his own reasons for climbing Mount Tartanius hadn' t been so overwhelming, Lan knew he' d turn around and leave this very instant. He climbed with a religious fanatic and a sorcerer whose anger might kill; he climbed to a summit impossibly high and fought Claybore along the way.
Lan Martak shook his head. Life wasn' t easy. Certainly not as easy as dying.
" An ice field," he called back to Ehznoll, roped just behind him. " I think it' s safe." Lan used the tip of his sword to test the frozen terrain. This miniature glacier had rushed out of a high canyon in the side of Mount Tartanius, then had been covered with a thin, bright glaze of half- frozen snow. The surface crunched under his boots as he tested each step.
" Push on, you fool. We are exposed here. The wind comes off the mountain." Abasi- Abi' s snarling voice reached him and made him mad. All day long they' d climbed difficult slopes. Simply because this ice flow appeared level and safe didn' t make it either. Just as Lan started to tell the complaining sorcerer this, he stepped down into: nothing.
" Aieee!"
He fell only five feet before the rope jerked him to a halt. But the precipitous fall had caused Ehznoll to lose his balance. Lan felt himself slipping lower and lower. The pilgrim appeared at the lip of the crevice, then came tumbling over, too.
" Ehznoll, are the others holding us?" he called up.
The man above him struggled for a grip on the slick, cold surface. Only after finding a tiny ledge did he answer.
" I think so. We saw you go. I didn' t have time to brace myself, but Abasi- Abi did. I think."
Lan hung like a clock pendulum, swinging back and forth in midair. Below he saw only cold and dark. On either side gleamed blue- white ice impossible to grip. He sheathed his sword and took out his dagger. Chipping away at the ice as hard as he could produced no results. The ice turned the steel point and prevented him from fashioning crude foot and hand holds. He resheathed his knife and looked above him. By this time he thought the others in the party should have begun hoisting him and Ehznoll up.
They hadn' t.
The icy cold wind gusting up from the bottom of the deep crevasse felt like the very breath of demons.
" What' s wrong up there?" he called. " Why aren' t they helping us?"
" I can' t see." The pilgrim closed his eyes, crossed his wrists over his chest, and began muttering invocations to the earth. Lan didn' t see how that was going to help any. He held down a moment of panic. He needed a set of rungs in the ice if he wanted to get out of here. He had to help himself. He had to do it right the first time; the cold sapped his strength more and more.
If his knife hardly scratched the ice, his bare fingers would be even less effective. Using his sword was out of the question. In the narrow confines he couldn' t get a proper swing. Besides, if his knife failed, there was little reason to think his sword would do better.
He shivered, wishing for a fire.
Fire.
Fire at his fingertips.
Lan Martak had never used his minor magics for anything significant before. He decided there was no time like the present to try. Holding his right hand against the cold wall of ice, he concentrated on the pyromancy spell. Flickers of spark jumped from thumb to index finger. The spell became more vibrant, living in his brain, growing, spreading to engulf his senses. Lan felt a power burst forth inside him unlike anything he' d ever before experienced.
A continuous blast of heat poured from between his fingers. The ice began melting. Lan whooped with joy and guided his miniature blowtorch inward, melting out a foothold, a handhold, another foothold. Able to stand in the melted indentations, he worked higher, the flames cutting into the ice at the top limits of his reach.