The Sorcerer_s Skull

It hardly made a dent in the voracious tide.

Krek proved the most effective fighter. He gobbled and gorged and fought with the ferocity of a hundred men. Somehow, this communicated to the grasshopper- things. Perhaps the spider was a potent natural enemy on this world, or they might have been intelligent enough to realize their potential meal dined off them. However it was, the grasshoppers began retreating with oversized froglike hind legs propelling them in immense ten- foot jumps.

" Come back, you dastards!" cried Krek around a mouthful of grasshopper. " I have not finished dining on you!"

Lan panted harshly as he leaned on his gore- encrusted sword. His legs wobbled under him, and his shoulders felt as if millions of heated needles were being thrust into his flesh. If the battle had continued another minute, he might have succumbed.

" Good fight, Krek. Looks like we turned the tide."

He saw the caravan master coming toward them. " We might be able to hire on as extra protection. At the very least, we can get a ride into the nearest town."

" Then we go to the cenotaph on the mountain?" asked the spider, finishing off the last tidbit of grasshopper.

" That, yes," said Lan. " We' ve got Inyx to find." Lan quietly added, " And Claybore to stop." They couldn' t allow the sorcerer to conquer a world as lovely as this one. Together, they' d triumph against the mage.

Together, the three of them: Lan, Krek, and Inyx.

He turned to greet the wagon master.

" Are you certain your bandages aren' t too tight?" asked Oliana n' Hes. She bent over in the creaking, rolling wagon to check Lan' s fresh bindings.

" I' m fine, thanks," he protested, but the caravan master' s wife' s attentions weren' t totally unwanted. Since he had saved her during the battle against the locusts, both she and her husband Huw had been solicitous of his health. Overly solicitous, Inyx might say.

Inyx.

The name burned bright in Lan' s mind. Mentally he pictured the woman. Dark- haired, not beautiful but far from plain, she possessed a mental quickness and a physical prowess that were rare. She' d lost a husband and taken to walking the Cenotaph Road long before Lan Martak had discovered that route. Inyx battled and won, never compromising. She was her own woman, outspoken and direct.

Love? Lan didn' t know if he loved her or not, but he felt more for her than simple comradeship.

Inyx would scoff at Oliana' s attentions. If she' d been here.

" It' s been almost a week. I' ve healed enough to be able to walk." Lan glanced outside the wagon bed and saw Krek lumbering along at an easy gait. The horses that hadn' t been killed by the grasshoppers had been injured; they couldn' t pull the wagons fast enough to make Krek do more than amble along. And the Maxwell' s demon- powered wagons had fared even worse. Not a one of the mechanicals survived. Lan remembered the shrieks of joy as Huw had released the magically trapped demons into the world. They rocketed upward until vanishing in a low- hanging cloud layer.

It had rained continuously for the next three days.

" Without medicines or the proper spells, infection might set in."

" It hasn' t yet," Lan gently pointed out.

" Don' t go bothering the lad, Oliana," came Huw n' Hes' s voice from the front of the wagon. " He needs sleep as much as anything else."

" I' ve gotten enough sleep this past week, thank you," replied Lan in exasperation. Being the conquering hero and the saviour of the wagon caravan had its drawbacks. " Do you mind if I join you, Huw?"

" Come ahead, lad."

Lan moved forward, acutely aware of Oliana' s hot hand on his arm and hotter eyes, and sat beside Huw. The caravan master drove a rig now rather than riding ahead, because of the heavy toll taken by the insects. Not many humans had survived.

" Beautiful country," said Lan, his eyes drinking in the fresh green glory of the wooded landscape. " Reminds me of home."

" You walk the Cenotaph Road?" It came as a question, but Lan sensed more of a statement in it.

" I do. My friend Krek and I became separated from a companion. We' re looking for her. Is there any chance she might be in the city ahead, Melitarsus, I think you called it?" The name rolled off his tongue like a honey lozenge, rich and exotic. He felt his heart beat faster. Lan had wanted excitement, new worlds, and he now got it.

" Possible. It' s the center for trade in this part of the continent. Oliana and I, we bring up barley and oats and gurna corn from the southlands. Melitarsus is a governmental seat, and its people can' t be bothered with doing useful chores like growing food."

" You sound bitter about that."

" I make a good living out of supplying them what they don' t have, but the taxes! A tax to get in, a tax to sell, a tax to leave. They' ve taxed everything but the taxes themselves."

" That' s the function of any government. That' s how they provide services, like these roads."

" These are toll roads. Privately owned. The Suzerain of Melitarsus uses the taxes for-"

" Now, Huw," came Oliana' s sharp voice. " You mustn' t discuss politics like that. Lan doesn' t want to hear your opinions."

Lan did, but saw that nothing more was to be gained from pursuing the issue. Huw' s conversation turned to his home in Lummin, overlooking Strange Point and the easternmost jut of the Sea of Wistry. The tone the man used told Lan that he preferred that part of the world to overcrowded, metropolitan Melitarsus.

Lan Martak' s excitement mounted even more when he first sighted the gold- tipped spires rising at the corners of the walled citystate. Reflections from silver- capped sentries on the walls and the dark stream of wagons, both horse- drawn and magical, entering the gate opening at one side thrilled him. Above the ramparts circled long- winged aircraft, gliding on thermals, soaring, cruising, dipping downward to the earth. One of the flyers came so close to them that Lan caught a good look of his youthful face. The wind whipped sandy hair back from a wind- reddened face and tugged at a long white scarf around his neck. Then the flyer swooped, caught an updraft, and returned to his vigil above the city' s walls.

Civilization again.

He' d been out on the road eating dust and drinking the odors of the animals too long. After all he' d been through, he longed for nothing less than a long, hot soak in a tub of scented water.

" Friend Lan Martak," came Krek' s querulous voice. " Is this the place you want to be? Surely, you can choose better."

" Quiet, Krek. Melitarsus looks like my kind of place."

The spider only clacked his mandibles together in a deprecating fashion that Lan had learned to ignore. He was too happy at returning to civilization.

" I' ll pay the entry fees for you and your friend," offered Huw. " And if you want to journey back to Lummin with Oliana and me, we' d consider it a rare privilege."

Lan heard the sincerity in the man' s voice, but he saw more than friendship in Oliana' s eyes. Such an arrangement could mean only trouble to him. The feeling of obligation wore off quickly, especially if Huw caught sight of Oliana' s real interest in Lan.

" You' re too kind to a stranger, Huw, but we must press on. We' ve got to find our companion."

" She must be very: special," said Oliana. She blinked slowly, her long dark lashes hiding her eyes in a sleepy- sexy manner. The careful circuit her tongue made around her ruby lips convinced Lan that he and Krek must be on their way soon- very soon.

" She is. I owe her much."

" Friend Lan Martak," called Krek. " Come look. They sell the bugs openly. Oh, this is such a fine place. I am glad I insisted we come." The giant spider had discovered a booth near the gateway leading into Melitarsus selling roasted insects. None was smaller than Lan' s forearm, and many dwarfed even the giant grasshopper creatures they' d fought on the road. The spider bounced from one side to the other and, had he the capacity, would have drooled over the selection.