The Sorcerer_s Skull

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Time passed, and Lan Martak didn' t notice. Like a man drugged, he sat and stared over the rim of Mount Tartanius down into the mists below where so much of his life had just vanished. The Kinetic Sphere was lost to him for all time. Inyx was similarly lost. Trapped between worlds, the woman was destined to roam deserted and alone forever. And, while this was a pleasant enough world, Lan had tasted the thrill of walking the Cenotaph Road, of finding and exploring new worlds. For most of his life he' d been trapped on a single world; following the advice of an ancient being, the Resident of the Pit, he' d taken a first hesitant step along the Road. He' d lost a love, killed an enemy, and found friends beyond compare in Krek and Inyx.

And they' d used the Kinetic Sphere to explore. Now that Claybore had regained his magical gateway, nothing prevented him from marching on defenseless, unsuspecting worlds and conquering them. His greyclad soldiers would pour forth through the gate opened by the Kinetic Sphere and bring ruin and slavery to untold cultures.

Lan Martak stared down the side of Mount Tartanius, wondering if he should follow the valiant Ehznoll' s path. One step, nothing, falling, death.

A light touch startled him.

" No, friend Lan Martak," came Krek' s soft words. " That is Ehznoll' s way, not yours. He died for his belief, for the betrayal of his faith. You must live for yours."

" Everything' s gone. There' s no way off this world.

You said so yourself. Unless: " Hope leaped in his breast.

" No," said the arachnid, " I have discovered no other cenotaph off this world. With the Kinetic Sphere gone, the ' vision' is clearer. There are no cenotaphs on this planet opening to other worlds, though I see countless ones opening onto it. These one- way gates no doubt account for the acceptance of travellers in Melitarsus. Many have entered this world only to find ho way off."

Lan slumped again.

" Ehznoll' s way may have been easier, but you' re right. It' s not my way." Looking up at the spider, he asked, " How' s Abasi- Abi? The battle may have severely injured him."

" Worse. His son Morto tends him, as is proper."

" Maybe my healing spells can do something for him. They seem to have put your leg aright."

" It remains stiff. But then, with my weakness and cowardice, what difference does it make? I am a craven, abandoning my dear, sweet little Klawn and our hatchlings. Ah," lamented Krek, " never to see one' s very own hatchlings again. A real pity, but a fate tailor- made for one as miserable as I."

Lan let the spider continue on with his self- pity. Krek had to feel as bad about losing the Kinetic Sphere as he did.

Inside the stone building, Morto knelt beside his father. The sorcerer had aged incredibly. Hair totally white, face lined as if some farmer had plowed it, transparent skin pulled across his hands as taut as a drumhead, he had come as close to death as possible without crossing the line.

" Here he is," said Morto quietly. To Lan, " He wishes to speak. But hurry. He is almost gone."

Lan cradled the old sorcerer' s head.

" You battled well," he said. " I am sorry to have distracted you. And I put Claybore' s head with the body. I didn' t know. I thought all he wanted was the Sphere."

" You didn' t know," absolved Abasi- Abi. " But for that ignorance you must now be punished." Lan tensed. " I am dying. You must carry on my fight against the evil Claybore promises. Morto will give you my grimoire. You have the native skill my son lacks in magic. You will learn all the spells you can to stop Claybore."

" He used the Kinetic Sphere to shift worlds," Lan said glumly. " I saw the flash as he opened the gateway. Do you think he' ll be back to slay the rest of us?"

" No, because he thinks I am dead and you helpless. He thinks there is no way off this world."

" There' s a way? Tell me!"

" First, I must tell you of Terrill." Abasi- Abi' s voice barely reached Lan now. The man bent down so the dying whispers sounded directly in his ear. " He was a mighty sorcerer, the mightiest and now long dead. But he saw the evil Claybore brought. Only Terrill possessed the skill to stop Claybore- not kill him, no one can do that, but stop him."

" Is Terrill the one who dismembered Claybore and scattered the pieces along the Cenotaph Road?"

" Yes."

" Claybore cannot be killed, but he can be stopped? He needs his full body for full power?"

" Yes," whispered Abasi- Abi. " Only the skull is potent, and with the body it is even more potent, but even this combination can be defeated. The danger lies in allowing Claybore to find the arms, legs, feet, hands. Once they are joined, no mage lives on any of the worlds able to withstand Claybore' s might."

" You' ll live, Abasi- Abi. I' ll start my healing spells. They aren' t much, but-"

" No!" Bony fingers clawed at Lan' s arm.

" I' ll have you back on your feet again. Soon. I promise."

" Lan," said Morto in a peculiarly flat voice. " He' s dead. He fought death, tried to deny it. No one can do that, even one as powerful as my father."

Lan Martak placed the lifeless body gently on the soft floor.

" He didn' t tell me how to get off this world. He wanted to tell me about Terrill and Claybore, but he never said anything about leaving here."

" Here is his grimoire. He wanted you to have it." Morto passed over a small volume bound in leather and brass. Lan took it as if it would bite.

" It' s yours. You' re his son."

" I cannot use it. I have no talent at all for magic, much to his disgust." Emotion returned to Morto' s voice and color rose in his blanched cheeks. " He was a harsh master and an unloving father." Tears choked him now. " But still I loved him and believed in what he had to do."

Together the three of them, two humans and one arachnid, buried the sorcerer. The glassy plain of Mount Tartanius' s mesa proved hard to dig in, but the combined assault of Lan' s sword and Krek' s talons, with Morto' s blind determination, finally cut the grave.

" I don' t know what words to say," said Lan after they' d finished covering over the body. " I wish now that Ehznoll were here."

" My father wasn' t of this world, but he is now permanently in it. May his dust and that of the world merge," said Morto.

Lan Martak looked curiously at the man.

" You' re not of this planet? You' ve walked the Road?"

" We' ve followed Claybore for a dozen years, ever since he regained the Kinetic Sphere. We' re from a world hundreds separated from this one."

" Did you use one of the one- way gates to arrive here?" Morto nodded assent. " But how did you plan to get away, to follow Claybore, if you failed to regain the Sphere?"

" My father opened a cenotaph on the last world we visited. The powers weren' t quite right to open it in both directions. The one way- gate closed behind us. Others may follow, but we can' t retrace our steps."

" Clumsy of him, if I do say so," said Krek.

" Your father knew the spells to create a cenotaph?" pressed Lan.

" Of course. Abasi- Abi was one of the greatest mages since Terrill himself. It was his misfortune to be second best to Claybore. Mages possess immense egos. It is required to perform their feats; being second best added fuel to the flames of his feeling of inferiority. Even the day' s preparation while you tried to enter the stone hut failed my father. The climb up Mount Tartanius had taken too much from him physically to allow total psychic strength. He was old, older than any of us can imagine. He belonged to a different world."

" It must be in the book. Morto, is the secret of creating a cenotaph in your father' s spell book? Can I open up the Cenotaph Road for us?"

A shrug, a pause, and finally, " I don' t know."

Lan Martak spent the next four days studying Abasi- Abi' s notebook. The details it revealed confirmed much of what he' d guessed. Waldron of the bleak world had been a mere dupe in Claybore' s larger plan. No mention at all of the grey king appeared in AbasiAbi' s diaries: only an unrelenting search for Claybore, continual battle with the grey- clad soldiers loyal to Claybore, worry that the renegade sorcerer might prove too powerful to vanquish.

One spell in the grimoire sent Lan' s heart racing. He composed himself, allowed the immense tides of magic flowing between worlds to suffuse his body, then cast himself outward. Like the therra on his home world, his spirit left his body and he roamed. Hours passed as he searched, disembodied, for Inyx. The world altered around his roving spirit, changed to a featureless plain, finally became the impenetrable white fog he' d experienced before.

" Inyx!" he called. No answer. " Inyx, I need to reach you. I need you."

" Lan?" A voice, hesitant, distant.

" Inyx! Are you all right?"

" I: feel: so: light. No: body. I: remain in: this place: too long."

The voice faded. Lan never caught sight of the woman but heard the fear in her words. He' d been told that to remain too long in the white fogginess robbed a mortal of body and left behind only tortured spirit. It was true, and Inyx knew it.

He had to rescue her and didn' t know how.

His spirit returned to his body. The weakness hitting him made him gasp and collapse. For two days Morto and Krek tended him. The excursion had been costly for him, both in energy and morale.

" I don' t see how we can do it. Not on the top of this thricedamned mountain."

" Friend Lan Martak, there must be a way. Abasi- Abi hinted as much."

" Hints, Krek, don' t mean a thing. The man was dying. He was as much a fanatic as Ehznoll. Ehznoll worshipped the earth, Abasi- Abi fought his personal devil: Claybore."

" Inyx remains in limbo."

" Dammit, I know." Spots of red flushed Lan' s cheeks. He paced constantly, Abasi- Abi' s spell book open in one hand. " I' ve gone over the contact spells again and again. They don' t work for me. I don' t have the experience, the control, the knowledge."

" While I am no mage, reading through this one indicates a path to follow." Krek' s claw tapped the book, opened on the stone altar in the hut.

" That' s a spell for creating a cenotaph. Yes, maybe the creation would bring Inyx out of the fog, but I can' t do it."

" Why not?"

" I lack the most essential ingredient: a dead hero."

" There is one."

" Abasi- Abi won' t work. We' ve buried him already. The grave must be freshly consecrated with those spells- and the hero' s body must be irretrievably lost."

" Such as lost, meaning not recoverable?"

Sometimes the spider could be so dense Lan wanted to scream.

" Yes, lost. Like: oh, no. Of course."

" Like Ehznoll," they chorused.

" How could I have overlooked it, Krek? He died saving us- the world- from Claybore. When he hit the ground below, nothing but pink splotches would have been left, and those would be smeared halfway down the mountain. We can consecrate a cenotaph to Ehznoll!"

" Obvious."

Lan spent another half- hour chiding himself for not seeing the obvious, then took another hour worrying about the qualities of Ehznoll' s heroism. He finally decided heroism, no matter how motivated, provided the psychic energy required for establishing the Cenotaph Road. The gateway between worlds could be opened, no matter what he' d thought of Ehznoll while he lived.

Lan Martak pored over the spells while Krek and Morto hollowed out the altar inside the hut. A special crypt had to be formed, one large enough to hold a human- or spider. But for all his bulk, Krek managed to compact himself down into large human size.

As the spider and human finished their chore, Lan said, " The preliminary spells are ready. I: I' ve improvised." He looked from Krek to Morto, to see if they approved.

" Improvised in what way?" asked Morto.

" I' ve sent a seeking spell into the whiteness and tried to couple it with the opening of the cenotaph. In this way, as the Cenotaph Road opens, Inyx will be pulled along and deposited on the proper world- the world onto which the cenotaph joins this one. We follow and join her."

" Which world?" the man asked.

" Which? Well, I can' t say. Is there a way of telling beforehand?"

" There is. My father often cast scrying spells for days, hunting for the exact world he desired most."

" I can' t do that. It: it wasn' t in his book." Lan again felt his inadequacy as a mage. All through his preparations he' d sensed his control teetering, almost being lost. The energies he moulded were immense and immensely beyond his comprehension. Still, necessity forced him into the role of sorcerer.

" Are we going to the world Claybore shifted to?" asked Krek.

" I don' t know. There' s so much about this I just don' t know."

" Fear naught, friend Lan Martak. You have done well, I am sure. Though, I do remember the time when you: " The spider' s voice trailed off in memory of some gaffe on Lan' s part.

" The spells. Now." Lan Martak closed his eyes and felt the rush of power surround him. As if he stood on a beach and the ocean waves lapped around his ankles, the power mounted. Up to his knees. Control. He fought to prevent a runaway of the energies he commanded. To his waist. A flicker. The gateway almost opened. He sculpted the almost palpable waves around him. The Cenotaph Road beckoned. The warm, engulfing waves rose higher, ever higher. To his neck. Over his head. A moment of panic. Control. He regained control. Another flicker, followed by an intensely brilliant flash.

The Cenotaph Road opened.

The waves receded from around him. Lan didn' t simply let loose. He maintained control as long as possible, nurturing the energy, stroking it as if it were a thing alive, coaxing the most possible from it. The cenotaph had been opened to another world, but an important element still remained.

Inyx.

" Come closer. Come to me. Follow the light from the Cenotaph Road," he called into the whiteness.

" Lan, so near. I' m coming. Wait for me. Wait!"

" Inyx!"

He blinked and stared into the yawning crypt carved into the stone altar. A misty form appeared, shimmered, started to vanish. He reached out and manipulated the energies and prevented Inyx' s departure. The form coalesced into a woman. She lay in the crypt, confusion on her face. She turned, tried to sit up. The narrow confines prevented her from doing more than straightening her long legs.

" Inyx, you' re back. Thank all: Inyx!"

" Lan!"

She reached out, touched his hand, then disappeared with a loud snapping noise.

" What happened? Krek, she was here and I lost her. She' s back in the mist."

" No, friend Lan Martak. She didn' t go back. I watched carefully. She retained her material body, and, by human standards, a nice one it is, too. I prefer more fur on the legs, naturally. All arachnids enjoy the sight of several well- turned legs, those being our most prominent feature."

" Krek!"

" Oh, yes. She formed most nicely, then winked out. I do believe the cenotaph took her. She walked the Road."

" 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 went 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."

" The time is almost upon us," said Krek. " Prepare to follow Inyx."

" I' m ready," said Lan. " Are you, Morto?"

" No."

" What?"

" I' m not going." The mage' s son stood to one side of the hut, his chin held high and a glow about him that Lan had seen before. He appeared more confident now, his shoulders straighter and his face more 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."

" Morto?"

" Go."

Lan' s blossoming magical sense " saw" the cenotaph begin to open. It glowed like a brightly lit doorway. Krek momentarily blocked off the light, then vanished. Through the illuminated rectangle Lan saw another world, a startlingly different world. He glanced back at Morto to see a different kind of light, a religious fervor such as had sent Ehznoll to his death.

But it wasn' t death Lan Martak sought. It was life. Life and Inyx and freedom. He dropped into the crypt, felt the magics work on him and send him into another world, a world to be warned of Claybore and his grey- clad soldiers, a world of boundless promise- and boundless evil.

He faded from Mount Tartanius and awoke to the next step along the Cenotaph Road.

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