Robert Vardeman - Pillar of Night

“You know how I feel? About Kiska?”

Inyx nodded.

Lan looked ahead, not wanting to meet her eyes. “I hate myself for killing her, but if any of you had done it, I couldn’t have stopped myself from exacting revenge. Claybore is a subtle monster. The geas still binds me.”

“She is dead.”

“I still love her.”

Inyx put her arm around his shoulder. When he tried to shrug it off, muscles as strong as any steel band tightened. Lan stopped fighting it and they walked on like this, not speaking. The time for words was long past between them. The communication flowed in both directions, but the power resided mostly within Lan’s mind. Inyx carried some small measure of his energy, his ability, but it was a weak reflection. She understood what he did-and why-but could not work those spells herself. Her part was to give him stability. He trod areas that had driven others insane. Inyx lent support and a firm basis from which to act, but the action itself had to well up from inside Lan Martak.

“We need the Resident,” he said.

“I know. Are you really so concerned about releasing him?”

“He was a god once, until Claybore stole his powers. I do not want the Resident wreaking vengeance on all humanity because of something Claybore alone has done.”

“He knows who is responsible.”

“But he’s a god and who can say what a god thinks?”

Inyx tightened her arm around Lan’s waist.

“No!” Lan snapped. “I am not a god. You know that. Look at me and tell me I’m not a god, also.”

“I can’t, Lan. What is within you is so much more than human it frightens me. Even knowing you as I do, I’m scared.”

“Friend Lan Martak,” called out Krek. “These odious vines are dribbling sap all over my legs. Can we not get free of this silly forest?”

“Soon, Krek. The Pillar of Night is close.”

“I know that,” the spider said testily. “I sense it just as I do the cenotaphs. The moving trees crowd in on me and there are not any good grubs or bugs to be found. I think I shall certainly starve to death unless we find some soon.”

“You wolfed down huge numbers of those grubs back on the other world, Krek. How can you be hungry again?”

Krek sniffed. “Kadekk might have been right. This whole venture is looking more foolhardy by the moment. She had a way about her, Kadekk did, even if she was only a mere spider.”

Inyx looked questioningly at Lan. “The spider he left in charge,” Lan explained to her. “Krek was Webmaster and had to delegate his authority to one of them. This Kadekk was the most capable.”

“She spun a fine web,” said Krek, “but certainly not one as fine as I. Friend Inyx, you should have seen my web treasure. A masterpiece. None like it for texture or intricacy of pattern.”

Lan stopped. Inyx’s arm tensed, then dropped away. The dark-haired woman stepped back beside Ducasien. Even she felt the radiance, the malevolence ahead.

“The Pillar of Night,” Brinke said. The regal blonde woman stopped beside Lan. Inyx wanted to go join Lan, but even the rapport she had with the mage wasn’t enough to be of any help. Only another adept might give him the keys he needed to unlock this terrible spell cast by Claybore so long ago.

“What are they doing?” asked Ducasien. “What are we supposed to do?”

“We wait. You and me and Krek. Our job is done now. Theirs has just started.”

Ducasien fingered his sword and stood on tiptoe to peer through the trees to see what Lan and Brinke already “saw.”

“That’s it? Even when we were coming to this infernal forest in the belly of that infernal machine, I saw nothing.”

“The blackness,” said Krek. “That is the Pillar of Night.”

Ducasien stayed unimpressed until Lan gestured and the trees reluctantly began moving away at the command. Then the warrior’s attention riveted to the vast black expanse rising up.

Lan hastened the trees to one side and walked forward, his mind reaching out to lightly touch the surface of the Pillar. Brinke beside him, they stopped only a few feet from the light-devouring column. Lan looked up and experienced a few seconds of vertigo. The Pillar was so tall it appeared to be leaning out, toppling over. But the moving spikes atop it helped Lan get the proper perspective. He blinked a few times and all became clear.

All.

“Resident of the Pit,” he said, “we have come to release you.”

“I see your intent, Lan Martak. Free me, yes, but let me die. I have grown too weary to continue this existence.”

“We need your aid to conquer Claybore and his armies,” Brinke said. “You cannot refuse us.”

“Give me my wish and I shall do whatever I can to help.”

Lan did not speak. His mind worked over complex relations, spells, laws both mundane and arcane. The unlocking would be easier than he had thought. He had accumulated knowledge from so many sorcerers. Abasi-Abi on Mount Tartanius. Some of the gnome sorcerer Lirory Tefize’s grimoires. All the spells locked within Terrill’s mind. Even spells accompanying Claybore’s tongue. Lan swallowed and tasted the bitter metal in his mouth. It sickened him even as it fed him power, knowledge, confidence. Coupled with the lore gained from those sources, Lan’s own experimentations had built up an arsenal of magic unparalleled since the time of the Resident.

It was still not enough to defeat Claybore unaided. He needed the Resident of the Pit.

“Lan,” said Brinke, her voice husky with fear. “Claybore’s legions. They mass on the plains.” She pointed. Lan looked over his shoulder and tried not to panic.

Never had he seen such an array of fighting men and machines. The forest had been silently sliding open to leave an unimpeded path for the mage’s army. Ten miles distant stood rank upon rank of armored might.

“The huge rolling fortresses are demon-powered fighting machines,” he said. “I feel the resentment of the demons spell-trapped within.”

“They spit fire,” cried Ducasien. “How can we fight those?”

Lan and Brinke turned to face the army advancing upon them. Long tongues of flame erupted from the blunted snouts of the machines. The demons spewed forth their wrath at being penned within the bellies of the machines and the mages guiding the machines opened vents to release the fire. Trees five miles distant from the leading machine exploded in a fireball.

“They kill at such a distance,” Inyx said. “Lan?”

“We can fight them. These are sent only to unnerve us.”

“The fire,” came Krek’s quaking voice. “My furry legs will go up just like tinder. Oh, friend Lan Martak, if Claybore means to frighten me, he has succeeded!”

Lan glanced at Krek and flashed him a reassuring smile. The giant arachnid refused to be consoled. Lan took a deep breath and settled his mind. The spells rose at his command, like bubbles in a pond. As they burst, he cast them forth to do their worst.

The machine in the lead shook as if caught by a huge, invisible fist. Armor plates and metallic components exploded in all directions as Lan released the demon within.

“The others come faster. I feel the fire on my legs already. Oh, why did I leave my safe web? Kadekk was not such a bad sort but I would have done a much better job as Webmaster. She will only taint my webbing, I am sure of it. Oh, woe!”

Inyx soothed Krek but when she reached out to Ducasien, he pulled away. The man’s face had turned pale but he stood squarely facing the oncoming hordes of men and magics.

Another of the mechanical juggernauts blew apart. And another and another. By the time the leading components of Claybore’s army reached the edge of the magic-haunted forest, only two of the machines still operated. Lan closed his eyes and sent the light mote familiar deep into one of the demon-powered devices. He began tormenting the already angered demon with the mote, sending it needles of pain, sheets of driving rain, blinding dust. Trapped in the narrow cavity of the fighting machine, the demon lashed out and caused the mage controlling it to veer. It rolled over hundreds of foot soldiers using its bulk for protection. Lan ignored the cries audible even at this distance and continued turning the machine back into Claybore’s grey-clad legions.