Iron Tongue

" I' ve looked. Some of the spells come easily now. I used several to send the black dragons into Claybore' s soldiers- and I hadn' t even remembered seeing them until Iron Tongue and the others worked with a modified version. I changed the spell slightly another time, but Claybore now counters it easily. There' s so much I don' t know!" He came to the point of frustration- caused tears. He had come so far, yet the path stretched to infinity before him. Claybore had spent centuries learning his magics. Lan Martak was a newcomer to this form of battle. He had unwillingly entered an arena where a strong arm and a quick sword meant nothing.

" Try to relax. Don' t force yourself to the brink of exhaustion."

" And you have just the remedy for that, I take it?"

" Of course I do."

Her lips crushed into his even as her hands wandered along his muscular body. For a moment tiredness seized him and he almost told her to stop, then he drew down and found almost limitless strength in the bracelet of power stone he wore. The change from lethargy to vitality took Inyx by surprise, but it was a nice surprise.

Her fingers laced through his brown hair and he rolled over and between her inviting legs. The expression on her face as he began the ages- old rhythm added to his energy more than any magic locked within a power stone. They merged and became one in body and soul, using their newly found rapport, soaring, exploring new and exciting realms that finally exploded in a wildly satisfying finale.

Long after Inyx had slipped off into sleep, Lan lay beside the woman, his arms about her gently breathing form. When he fell asleep, the dreams he had feared came. Once more Claybore invaded his innermost thoughts and brought evil visions.

Laughing, the fleshless skull of the dismembered sorcerer taunted him. When Lan Martak awoke in the morning, he had slept but not rested. He had witnessed what Claybore plotted all night long.

" I see no reason to go on this ridiculous journey. You will fail. I know it." Iron Tongue stood with arms crossed tightly and a quizzical expression on his face. Lan Martak had felt the full magical force of the man' s persuasions and had turned them aside like a rich man ignoring the beggings of some street mendicant. Never had a human withstood the awesome power of the tongue resting in his mouth when he had turned it against him- before now.

" I shall not fail. To show good faith to the spiders, the leaders of the groups involved must be in attendance." Lan didn' t add that he wanted them with him to keep from sundering the fragile truce. While it was dangerous concentrating all resistance leadership in one small party away from the safety of Wurnna, Lan had decided that the risk of the alliance failing was greater. He wanted to be close to soothe ruffled egos and tend what might be a full- time job of working negotiated apologies acceptable to all when slights, both real and imagined, occurred.

If they could not persuade the spiders to allow open mining of the power stone, Wurnna was doomed. If they simply remained within the walls of the city- state, Claybore' s attacks would eventually wear them down. The potential for success was greater by taking this desperate gamble.

" He will sense us. Claybore is inhumanly endowed."

" He isn' t endowed at all," said Inyx. " Not physically, at least." She glanced at Lan and smirked.

" I referred to his sorcerous powers. I am fully aware of his bodily dismantling by Terrill," said Iron Tongue. Lan scowled at this. Iron Tongue was quick to cite the mythic origins of the tongue he used, yet he claimed to know about Terrill and the gargantuan struggle across worlds that had resulted in Claybore' s dismemberment.

" I can get us past his soldiers. There are small spells that he won' t bother to check for," Lan responded.

" Small ones are all you can summon," Noratumi said bitterly. " Otherwise, you would end this battle here and now."

Lan ignored the jibe. His reunion with Inyx hadn' t been wellreceived in any quarter of the city. Jacy Noratumi resented him; so did Rugga. He had seen the pair together early this morning, dour expressions and impassioned gestures highlighting their meeting. That made him smile. He had maneuvered them together to discuss their mutual problems and to find that Iron Tongue presented a common barrier to understanding between Wurnna sorcerers and Bron miners. Politics depended mostly on " chance" occurrences being engineered in such a way that the used did not realize it. But an eventual alliance agreed on between Noratumi and Rugga mattered little to him at the moment; a supply of power stone counted for more. Lan didn' t know if an ample supply of it improved their chances or not, but he wasn' t going to attempt a frontal assault on Claybore without it.

" We leave in one hour." He didn' t wait for the protests. Let them cry on each other' s shoulders. That might forge a stronger bond than anything else he could do.

" Sentries," Inyx said quietly, pointing with the tip of her sword. Lan' s fingers moved restlessly in an effort to create the proper spell. He strove to achieve not invisibility, which was a potent enough magic to draw Claybore' s attention, but nonnoticeability such as that used by Rugga on their journey into Wurnna. If properly cast, the sentries would see them but their eyes would report no danger to their brains. Their passing might be reported but it might also be ignored as inconsequential.

" I do not like this," said Jacy Noratumi. " Let' s kill them and make sure they do not report us."

" Silence," snapped Iron Tongue. " The man is creating a delicate spell."

Whether Lan' s concentration flagged for a moment or some other element entered the arena, none can say. The nearest guard noticed them. Even as his frown wrinkled with the effort of recognizing them, Inyx acted. With a perfect fleche, she took four quick steps forward and skewered him. The guard' s death, however, shocked the others into action.

" Escapees! Kill them!" cried the sergeant of the guard from his post higher up on the side of the mountain. Frustration at garrison duty, fights against insubstantial and totally deadly dragons and other illusory beasts, and the deaths of his fellows all powered the attack.

Lan started to conjure up the spell that would bathe the greyclads in flame. He held back at the last possible instant. Such magic would definitely draw Claybore' s attention. Unsheathing his sword, Lan waited for the soldiers to attack. The blade felt odd in his hand; only now did the young mage realize how he had come to depend on his spells. Before he had learned so much, the sword and he had been as one, flowing and thrusting, moving and parrying and lunging.

He again fell into this rhythm of attack, skewering the first soldier to confront him. At his side, Inyx slashed powerfully to sever a wrist. The grey- clad gasped and stared numbly at the spurting stump. Turning pasty white, he pirouetted and slowly sank to his knees, more dead than alive.

" Ha! This is more like it!" came Noratumi' s happy shout. The sounds of metal ringing against metal filled the small draw. Pent- up frustration at the destruction of his city boiled over and caused the man to fight like a small platoon.

Lan' s muscles protested at first, then relaxed as he became used to the movement of his sword. Having Inyx at his side aided him more than he could put into words. A quick disengage drove his point into an exposed throat. The next man tried fancy footwork; an unexpected replacement carried Lan' s tip to its target in the man' s heart.

Even as he fought, he sensed magics building. He turned to warn Iron Tongue, trusting Inyx to protect his flank.

" No magic," he cautioned, but the ruler of Wurnna had already spoken the soft words.