" It opened already? Of course it did. I opened it!"
" And it has already closed. Remember, the cenotaphs do not remain open constantly. Only once daily do they open, then for an appallingly short period. You should look into changing that, the next cenotaph you make."
" It' s closed?" Lan hardly believed his ears. The first crypt he' d entered had been open to another world for only seconds. This one consecrated to Ehznoll had been open for long minutes- but he' d taken those minutes to summon Inyx, to coax her from the whiteness. By the time she' d reposed in the crypt, the time had expired.
Inyx travelled ahead of them to a new world. They had to wait for another day to follow.
" We' re still not together!" he complained.
" There is only time between the two of you now," said Morto. " Wait a day, then follow. She saw you and must know that you follow. She will wait at the other side."
" Wait," said Lan glumly. " So we wait."
Inyx drifted, any real substance just beyond her fingertips. Every time she gripped down, she felt only: mist. The all- pervasive whiteness wrapped her like damp, fleecy cotton wool. She fought against it, thrashing, cursing, struggling. Only the slight wetness of fog greeted her.
" Inyx!" came the distant cry. She turned, trying to recognize the voice, trying to decide from what direction it came.
" Lan!" she screamed. " I' m over here! Help me! I don' t know where I am!"
The voice calling her name grew fainter. She panicked.
Ever since Claybore had trapped them between worlds, she had been wandering alone. Other wraiths in the white mistiness passed close by, but she had avoided them. They weren' t- quite- human. This limbo had been reserved for the damned souls unable to find rest. Lan' s voice gave her the first hope she' d had since entering this nothingness.
" Inyx: stay where: you are. I: come."
She saw a brief flash of brown hair, the color a riot of sensation after the continual diet of white. Lan Martak turned and faced her. Her hands reached out, brushed over- through- his. Inyx cried in frustration when the man faded away.
But hope had been reborn in her breast. Lan still sought her. He hadn' t abandoned her. That thought made the waiting easier. A little bit, at least.
She might have stood for an instant or centuries. Inyx had no way of deciding how long it had been between sighting Lan and the feeling of being sucked into a vortex. Slight tuggings pulled at her ankles, her legs, her body. She turned and cried out as her misty body began spinning in a miniature tornado.
Hardness rubbed her arms and back. Suffused light shone in her eyes. Detail came into the world. She rested in a stone crypt, the top pulled away to reveal an eight- foot- tall spider and a haggard man, his eyes shining with feral brilliance and a shock of sweat- soaked brown hair swaying across his forehead.
" Lan!" Inyx sat up in the crypt, reaching out to him. " You:" Her words trailed off as the vertigo she associated with walking the Cenotaph Road took possession of her senses, spinning her around and making her feel as if she' d been turned inside out. " No!" she cried piteously, but the protest echoed hollowly inside the rugged stone crypt, now turned dark and dank.
She sniffed the air, then coughed. Mildew had attacked the stone, giving a musty odor. Inyx shoved upward against rough stone and felt the lid to the crypt begin to slowly grate away. Using muscles that had been inactive for- how long?- caused aches to assert themselves. The dark- haired woman loved the feel.
A body! She was out of the white limbo and back in the real world. But which world? Somehow, Lan had created a cenotaph to get her out of the nothingness between worlds. He had also miscalculated the opening time. She had escaped her private, dimensionless hell but had been tossed at random along the Cenotaph Road.
Muscles tensed as she sat half- upright and pushed harder against the stone. It didn' t matter which world this cenotaph opened onto. Lan and Krek would follow as soon as theirs opened once again. They would be with her. The three of them together!
Inyx rejoiced.
The starry heavens above displayed constellations unfamiliar to her. Cool dew moistened her forehead, and the heady scent of pine forest came from close by. Soft winds whispered through the treetops and came to caress her face, sensuously touching her face, throat, breasts. She lived and rejoiced in every sensation. For too long, she had been deprived of all of them. Sitting up, she saw dark forms moving nearby. Humans, from the sound of their motion and the words they uttered.
" Greetings," she called out, anxious once again to be with anyone not a ghost. Inyx pulled herself to her feet, still in the crypt. As her eyes adjusted to the night' s darkness, she felt a cold lump forming in the pit of her stomach.
The men she faced were all grey- clad soldiers. They ringed her in. She had escaped Claybore' s curse in the whiteness to find his army' s might in another world. Inyx was trapped.
CHAPTER TWO
" The time is almost upon us," said Krek. " Prepare to follow through the cenotaph."
" I' m ready," said Lan. " Are you, Morto?"
" No."
" What?"
" I' m not going." The dead mage' s son stood to one side of the hut, his chin held high and a glow about him that Lan had never seen before. He appeared more confident now, his shoulders straighter and his face composed. For too long he had lived in his father' s long shadow. Morto obviously had come to a decision on his own now, possibly for the first time. Free of familial obligation, he grew as a man.
" Why not?"
" I will stay on this world. Others offer me nothing I can' t find here."
" And?"
" I would carry on Ehznoll' s religion. The strength of this cenotaph is a tribute to his courage. There must have been parts of his belief more potent than any magic. Perhaps faith is always stronger. It is something I must explore for my own peace of mind. Also, my father lies on this mountain; I think my destiny does, also."
" Come with us, Morto. Don' t spend your life in this way. Help us continue your father' s fight against Claybore."
" My fight lies elsewhere. I haven' t the talent or will to do battle with Claybore. Let me stay and tend to this holy shrine. It is something I can do, something I want to do. Go, go find your friend."
" The cenotaph opens, friend Lan Martak." The giant spider jumped nervously from one side to the other, his long, furry legs knotting with eagerness to go through the world- shifting cenotaph.
" Morto?"
" Go."
Lan' s blossoming magical sense " saw" the cenotaph begin to open. It glowed like a brightly lit doorway leading into a far better place. Krek momentarily blocked off the light, then vanished. Through the illuminated rectangle Lan saw a new world, a world completely different from the barren, glassy plain atop Mount Tartanius. He glanced back at Morto to see another kind of light, a religious fervor such as had sent Ehznoll plunging to his death.
Lan never hesitated. With the litheness of youth, he vaulted into the crypt and immediately lay down. Less than a second elapsed before the magics he had released began taking hold of his mind and body. He started to call out in joy that his spells actually worked. He experienced a vertigo of the world- shifting, but it was a familiar sensation now. Lan calmed and blinked, opening his eyes to see Krek looming high above the new crypt. Luckily the spider had removed the lid and gotten free; otherwise, the fit trying to get both of them into the same coffin- sized space would have been too tight for comfort.
" It is night," said Krek. " Almost dawn."
" Inyx, where' s Inyx?" Lan demanded. He forced his way past the crouching spider, worming his way through the legs imprisoning him in the cenotaph.