The Sorcerer_s Skull

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

He waited for lightning to strike him dead. Lan paused just inside the doorway, straining his every sense for some hint of what to expect. The odor from the inside of the stone building was at odds with those normally found. Instead of a closed, musty odor, he detected only a faint hint of pine, of things growing, of freshness and springtime and warmth. The air lightly blowing across his blistered face healed, both physically and psychically. It put him at ease, made him believe the world could be better, was better. The quiet of the large, dimly lit room also soothed him. He felt no surge of claustrophobia, nor of vertigo. This was a room imbued with serenity. It was as if the builder had intended this shrine to be one for relaxation, for a spot to get away from the deadly rush of the exterior world.

Lan had never felt more at peace.

He took another step into the room, this time sure of himself. The room would not lash out at him with lightning bolts. He' d passed the test out on the mirrored plain. He had proven himself worthy of being allowed to savor the tranquillity of this spot.

The simple stone walls dripped water constantly, yet the temperature remained comfortable. The floor was covered with a soft, velvetlike material that made walking a joy, gave a spring to his step and a surge of energy for his legs. The only other entryway into the building was a doorway on the left adjacent wall, a door leading to the precipice looking down over the edge of the mountain and two miles of emptiness.

" There," said Krek, his voice low.

The arachnid indicated the dais in the center of the room. Lan didn' t need any special ability to sense magic. Setting atop the altar was a small wooden box, one foot by two by one deep. Radiating outward from this box came a flood of energies, the powers needed to open worlds without recourse to the cenotaphs.

Inside that box lay the Kinetic Sphere.

" Yes," said Lan, his heart feeling as if it would leap from his chest. He hurried across the room and, hands shaking, touched the lid hiding the contents of the box. Fingers stroking over rough wood, he finally lifted.

Blazing like a pink jewel, the Kinetic Sphere lay in the middle of the box. A soft grey powder surrounded it, cradled it, held it in a loving embrace.

" Now we can rescue Inyx." Lan reached for the Sphere.

" Powers of the earth, harken!" came the abrupt command. Lan turned and saw Ehznoll not five feet away. He' d not realized the man had followed him inside. He thought the pilgrim had remained outside, at the verge of Mount Tartanius, praying to his dirt.

" He wants the Sphere, too," said Krek.

" Is that true, Ehznoll?"

" It is the heart of the earth. Our creed is such that it must be returned to the center of the planet before all can be right again. The world festers and decays because it lacks its heart." Ehznoll began a chant, a chant that made Lan uneasy.

He' d heard those words before, the cadence, the soul- searing rhythm. Just before they' d shifted worlds, Claybore had uttered this exact chant and sent them all into the whiteness between worlds.

Lan saw pink pulsating light against the ceiling, the walls, his hand. The Kinetic Sphere had come alive. No longer crystalline in appearance, it developed arteries and veins, throbbed with life, became a living organ. Ehznoll' s chant had transformed it into a large four- chambered human heart.

Repulsed and fascinated at the same time, Lan found he couldn' t look away. The mitral valves opened and closed, pumping no blood, but functional just the same. Arteries twitched with pseudo- life. Veins attempted to return blood from a nonexistent body.

Coldness clutched at the man as those thoughts raced through his mind. He gripped the wooden box as awful suspicion struck him.

" Be silent, Ehznoll. Don' t say another word!" he screamed. The world spun about him and the chant continued. The Kinetic Sphere' s outlines altered; it quaked with anticipation. The grey dust cradling it shifted as the crystal heart vainly pumped. Lan leaned forward, his eyes screwed shut, his world crumbling again. The winds of magic blew constantly around him now. This room, once so peaceful, now assumed the aspect of deadly horror. He wanted to scream, to shout out his fear; no words came. His throat constricted with fear.

Cold sweat popped out on his forehead, stung the blisters, and dripped from lips and chin. His fingers tightened on the wood box. All he could hear were Ehznoll' s chant and machinery clanking. He opened his eyes and saw Claybore.

The sorcerer had entered the same doorway they had. The fleshless skull rested on the body of a mechanical like those Nashira had used as menials. The parody of a human sickened Lan Martak. His hand reached for his sword, only to find nothing. His weapons rested outside, away from this shrine.

Claybore laughed and Lan quaked inside. The robot creature walked with irregular stride across the room. Krek appeared frozen. Ehznoll stayed on his knees before the altar. Only Lan could meet this threat. And his muscles refused to obey.

" You like my mode of transportation?" asked Claybore. " I rather enjoyed its tirelessness, although it doesn' t travel very fast. It also has a tendency to break down on the steeper grades. Still, not having to feed it like I would a more human assistant had benefits."

" The craftsmen in Melitarsus made it for you?"

" Unwillingly, but my soldiers can be very persuasive. Commander k' Adesina in particular. You' ve met her, I believe. A shame she cannot be here now; she patrols the base of the mountain. A charming woman, totally dedicated. But then, while there are only a few troops on this world, they are all dedicated. Yes, this artificial body has served me well." Claybore turned, holding long, spindly metallic arms away from his body to better show off.

Lan felt the sorcerer' s attention slip for an instant. His body reacted long before his mind realized he moved. He launched himself in a shallow dive that locked his arms around Claybore' s mechanical legs. The robot failed to move quickly enough to avoid crashing forward. Lan swarmed up it, then stopped, sick to his stomach.

The skull bounced away and landed against the far wall. He fought a headless body.

The slight hesitation was all the mechanical required to twist free. It scurried on hands and knees to the sorcerer' s skull and hoisted it back into place. Lan tried to rise; again came the leaden feeling in his limbs.

" The builder of the shrine foolishly devoted his energies to peace," said Claybore. " You fight against his spells, as well as mine."

" I can at least fight," muttered Lan.

" Yes, that surprises me greatly. For a bumpkin with no formal training, you have mastered many complex and ancient spells. I have thought long on how you avoid my death gaze, and have come up with no satisfactory solution. You instinctively protect yourself. I wonder if even you know how it is done."

" You won' t get the Kinetic Sphere, Claybore. We' ll stop you. We will!"

" We?" mocked the sorcerer. The robot body strode around while hands reached up and repositioned the head. The bone- white skull rested at a slight angle now, giving a jaunty, inquisitive air to the being. " Who is this ' we' you refer to?"

" Look, fool. A mountain arachnid. Krek. He is immobile, held firmly by my spells. His courage is a fragile thing. A few reminders of the time spent in Nashira' s arena and-"

Krek emitted a shrill chittering noise that tore at Lan' s heart. The spider' s chocolate eyes widened and his body convulsed, folding in upon itself until it looked as if he might totally vanish.

" See? Memories are such potent weapons. I had no idea the Suzerain of Melitarsus did those things to him. His mind, of course, conjures up far worse tortures than any outsider could produce. I simply release his imagination for: instruction."

Lan fought against the spell holding him pinned like a butterfly. He made slow progress back toward the wooden box on the altar containing the Kinetic Sphere. While he had no plan, could not expend the effort to make one, he realized the Sphere was the most potent weapon against- and for- Claybore.

" Krek' s courage diminishes with every passing moment. If I allowed this mental fantasizing of danger to continue, he would die of fright. So, he cannot be part of this ' we' you refer to. Perhaps you mean this wretched creature. This pilgrim Ehznoll. Once a valued flyer on this world, but now a worthless parasite sucking up dirt and calling it religion."

The mechanical went to where Ehznoll still knelt and prayed, his lips working silently on new and more righteous chants. A metallic foot kicked out and sent the man sprawling. Ehznoll' s wrists remained crossed over his breast and his eyes never left the altar. He had achieved his paradise, the end of a long pilgrimage, and none robbed him of his moment of rapture.

" He controls many spells you do not. You never realized this, did you, Lan Martak?" The skull turned and faced Lan. " Go on, struggle. Try to reach the altar. I enjoy watching your pitiful efforts."

Lan continued to fight. Claybore toyed with him, but the sorcerer did not kill him outright. That led Lan to believe, rightly or wrongly, that Claybore was still unable to muster sufficient strength. The spells holding Krek took a considerable amount of strength. Further energy went into immobilizing Ehznoll. And the more Lan fought, the weaker the spell holding him became. Claybore boasted of his ability, but the three of them together strained that ability to the limit.

" In fact, allow me to give you a preview of what awaits you." The robot- creature turned so that the eye sockets of the skull pointed directly at Ehznoll. Twin beams of ruby light lashed forth, bathing the pilgrim in a wan, ruddy glow.

Ehznoll screamed in agony.

" You are not of the earth!" he shrieked. " You defile the heart of the earth. You are not the god I believed. You tricked me. Youaieee!" He clutched his sides and curled into a fetal position. Every line of his face, every contour of his body, reflected the pain inflicted by Claybore' s death gaze.

Lan watched and felt compassion for Ehznoll. In that instant, Ehznoll lost much of his faith, had his tenets crumble around him. The death of a belief might be worse than physical death. Lan also felt the lessening of the immaterial bonds holding him. Claybore had gone beyond the limits of his ability when he provoked and tortured the pilgrim. He could hold, but the addition of the ruby gaze forced him to turn more attention to Ehznoll. While not entirely gone, Lan successfully fought the binding spell.

He attacked.

Again, his arms circled the mechanical' s legs. This time the tackle failed. The metallic creature turned and kicked. Lan tasted blood as his lip split against the sharp knee joint. He hung on and worked his way up the body, probing, hitting, butting, keeping Claybore' s robot off balance. Spindly arms crashed into his back. Legs sought to knee him in the groin. Twisting and turning in an attempt to fling him away, the mechanical succeeded only in losing its balance again. From the way it had tottered into the room, Lan guessed it had been damaged on the climb up the mountainside.

Man, machine, and skull crashed down in a pile.

Lan was as strong physically as the metallic creature; his reflexes were much faster. The man pinned his knees down firmly onto geared shoulders. He stared directly into the empty eye sockets, of the skull still perched on that metal neck.

" Die, fool!"

The ruby beams leaped forth.

Pain beyond comprehension washed through Lan' s body. He held on. He had thwarted the death gaze before, in the dreams, when Claybore remained at a distance. But he didn' t know how he' d done it. Searing, soul- wrenching misery assailed him until he almost passed out.

The beams bent and passed harmlessly to either side of his body.

" No!" screamed the skull. The inside of Lan' s own head felt as if it would split like a rotted melon from the force of that denial. He leaned forward, his fingers slick with sweat and shaking with fear, to pluck the skull from the mechanical shoulders.

" Stop. Don' t! You don' t know what you' re risking."

Lan said nothing as he held Claybore' s fleshless skull high, intending to hurl it against the stone wall.

" We can be allies. Share with me the rule of all the worlds along the Cenotaph Road."

" I know what you are, Claybore," he said from between clenched teeth. Lan knew if he ever relaxed, his teeth would chatter with fear. He had to strike now, while the balance of power rested with him and not the ancient sorcerer.

" Inyx! You want to rescue the woman. She dies slowly between worlds. Only I can save her."

" You lie." But Lan hesitated. He knew the deal Claybore tried to make. In return for not smashing the skull into a million fragments, the mage would rescue Inyx. Lan didn' t know if he personally knew enough of the workings of the Kinetic Sphere to rescue the woman in time or not. Claybore did; Claybore could. But the treacherous sorcerer would turn on him if he weakened. No deal was sacred. Honor meant nothing to the decapitated being. If he had the chance to renege and kill both Lan Martak and Inyx, he would take it.

But what if Lan Martak didn' t know enough? To strand Inyx between worlds meant more than physical death, it meant an eternity of longing for real death.

He couldn' t condemn her to that, if Claybore spoke the truth about being the only one who could rescue her. The skull grew warmer to his touch. The sorcerer shifted more and more of his power against Lan, but the man tapped unconscious reserves that kept the deadly ruby columns bent away from his body, kept the spells of compulsion weak.

Lan Martak had a decision to make. Believe Claybore and rescue Inyx. This led to treachery. Claybore would undoubtedly end up with the Sphere and be free to continue his conquest of a myriad worlds. Nothing guaranteed the sorcerer wouldn' t turn on both of them after plucking her from the foggy interworld whiteness, either. But to smash the skull into dust meant no help whatsoever from the mage who had contrived the Kinetic Sphere.

" Freedom, I' ll give you both your freedom. And: and you can rule with me. There' re plenty of worlds. Millions! Take all you want. I' ll give them to you." The skull grew hot to the touch. The very smell of heated bone nauseated the man.

Lan decided.

Even if it meant damning Inyx to an eternity of soulless limbo, he had to stop Claybore. This might be his only chance. His arm cocked back for the pitch against the wall.

He found himself upended and dumped onto his back by the still struggling mechanical. The metallic being sat up, one long arm batting the cranium out of his grip. Lan jerked around to see Claybore' s skull arch upward, then fall toward the opened box on the altar. As it vanished from sight within, a tiny puff of grey powder rose.

Demoniacal laughter reverberated around the stone chamber.

" You fool, you inutterable fool!" came a shocked exclamation from the doorway. " How could you have done that?"

Lan wrestled with the mechanical, but he recognized Abasi- Abi' s voice.

" If you' d helped us: " he began.

Abasi- Abi waved a hand. Lan felt the robot- creature stiffen as if a knife had been rammed into its back. It melted, the metal of its skeleton turning to butter. It puddled in front of him, sizzling against the softness of the floor covering, causing a metallic stench to rise up. Lan stood there stupidly, hardly believing such a thing could happen. One moment the mechanical had been substantial. The next, it dissolved into smoking liquid.

Abasi- Abi stalked into the room. Morto stood just outside the door, his face pinched and white.

" Look, look at what you' ve done!" Abasi- Abi pointed. Lan gasped when he saw the dust within the wooden box on the altar restlessly shifting about, forming patterns, turning more substantial. In less than a heartbeat, the grey dust had formed a torso. The Kinetic Sphere beat like an obscene heart in the chest cavity of the armless and legless body. A thin neck reached up to join with the fleshless skull he' d accidentally tossed into the box.

Lan swore that the bony skull smiled. In victory.

" I don' t understand. The Sphere-"

" The damn Kinetic Sphere means nothing, or very little. It' s his body I' ve tried to keep him from," snapped Abasi- Abi. " With the body regained, Claybore' s power triples. More!"

Lan recoiled when the body began thrashing about inside the boxcoffin.

" Your spells are potent, Lan Martak," came Claybore' s voice, " but Abasi- Abi is correct. You are a fool. Now that I' ve regained my body, none can stop me!"

Abasi- Abi thrust out his hands. Sheets of coruscating energy blasted forth. Lan averted his eyes, shielding his face from the heat. Squinting, he saw the ghastly skull and limbless torso sit up inside the box.

Whatever power Claybore had lacked before, he now had. Lan felt the magic flowing about him and recognized little of it. Back on his home world he' d been taught minor spells for immobilizing game, for healing, for starting fires. He' d witnessed others. Once, he' d seen a man " reduced" for a crime, turned into a sizzling blob of grease. That spell had seemed potent to him.

These sorcerers battled with magics beyond his comprehension. And he' d inadvertently given Claybore back immense power.

" The eyes!" he cried. " Claybore' s eye sockets!"

The mage' s deep- sunken pits began to glow a dark red. Lan thrust himself in front of Abasi- Abi just as twin beacons of death shot forth. Whatever inbred spell he used so unknowingly, it still worked. The death gaze passed harmlessly to either side, leaving Abasi- Abi and himself unscathed.

" I shall rend you into atoms, Claybore!" screamed Abasi- Abi. " Terrill scattered your parts along the Cenotaph Road to stop you. I shall destroy you!"

Ghastly laughter greeted the sorcerer' s words. The Kinetic Sphere pulsated more powerfully in the chest cavity, turning from pink to a royal purple. The pseudo- heart altered visibly, its texture turning from flesh to velvet to a mistiness that confused Lan' s eyes. All the while, Claybore' s power mounted. Lan felt the tide of battle slowly shifting. Abasi- Abi had the initial advantage. He slowly lost it to the dismembered sorcerer.

" Remember me, Abasi- Abi," gloated Claybore. " Remember me when you reach the Lower Places of Hell!"

Lan felt as if a furnace door had been opened. Heat issued forth, driving him to his knees. He fought in ways he didn' t understand. He felt tiny burnings throughout his brain, racing along his spine, turning him into one giant, raw nerve ending. Physical combat wasn' t possible. He joined with Abasi- Abi to fight with magics.

And they slowly lost.

It was as if they were being forced back inch by inch. As they weakened, Claybore' s power grew.

" I: I can' t go on much longer," muttered Abasi- Abi. " I feel myself slipping, slipping away. I did not prepare adequately. I' m too old, too feeble for this. I-"

" No!" shouted Lan, shaking the sorcerer. " You' re the only one with the knowledge to stop him now."

" I can' t."

Mocking laughter. Lan saw the obscene skull nodding atop the armless torso. The Kinetic Sphere had vanished totally into the chest. A pearl- grey light surrounded the stone altar, light signalling the end of the battle.

Claybore had won.

" Die, mortals," said Claybore. " Die knowing I shall rule a million worlds!"

" No," came a small voice from the side. " He steals the heart of the earth. Desecration! Noooo!" Ehznoll rose, obviously in pain. His eyes were wide and an expression of religious fervor crossed his face. He seemed to glow more brightly than the altar. " You are a false god. You are sent by the sky to destroy the sweet earth. You cannot steal the heart. It must be returned!"

Ehznoll rushed to the altar and flung his arms around the wooden box containing Claybore' s skull and torso. He lifted it and turned for the door leading to the precipice.

" Stop!" Claybore' s voice carried total command. The full power of his sorcerous skill drove the order directly into Ehznoll' s already numbed brain.

But life remained in Abasi- Abi. A little, enough. He sent spell after intricate, deadly spell at Claybore. Ehznoll stumbled once, then, as the pressure of battle turned back to Abasi- Abi, ran for the verge of Mount Tartanius.

Claybore couldn' t fight both Abasi- Abi and Ehznoll. The sorcerer could slay one or the other, but not both simultaneously. Ehznoll never broke stride when he came to the side of the mountain. He kept running, appearing to rush out another ten feet before gravity seized him and his ghastly burden.

Abasi- Abi collapsed just as Ehznoll and Claybore vanished under the rim of the mountain. Lan shook himself and reeled to the edge. He heard a faint voice drifting up to him.

" The heart will be returned!"

Ehznoll.

He heard nothing of Claybore but saw a brilliant flash before the box had travelled half the distance to the ground. As soon as the glare died, Lan slumped. All magics vanished.

The Kinetic Sphere. Claybore' s spells. Abasi- Abi' s counterspells. The wards atop Mount Tartanius. Everything. He was stranded on a world without cenotaphs. And Inyx was doomed to roam forever through the white fog between worlds.

He' d failed. He' d failed in every way.