World of Mazes

" What of my troops?"

" I need help, not an entire army. Too many will distract me and increase the danger. I can warn you and Inyx in time. To relay that along a line:" Lan shrugged.

" I see. What am I to do?"

" Follow us," spoke up Inyx. " We' ve been down this corridor before, but couldn' t get all the way in. This time we have to. I doubt the Lord will give us a third chance."

Lan located the illusory wall panel. He took several deep breaths to calm himself. Walking the path between the inner walls took all of his courage when he knew what awaited him if he stepped too far either left or right. Hands. Teeth. Pain, intense pain, pain so excruciating he almost felt it before it began.

" Don' t look to either side," he cautioned, then went forward. Lan fancied grabbing hands missed him by fractions of an inch. He moved slowly, studying their footing, finding a few new traps. Once he even " felt" an overhead trap. Knoton disabled the trigger device, showing exceptional dexterity in the cramped quarters. Finally the trio reached the " safe" spot attained on the last excursion.

The tiny room hadn' t changed in any detail. Either the Lord of the Twistings thought they' d never reach this far or his protective spells inside the anteroom were superior to those they avoided reaching this point. Lan studied the floor, the wall, the ceiling.

" Through that door is the way into the other room- the one we can see from the hallway where Krek waits."

" Won' t we set off the same spell if we enter?"

" We' ve come in the back way. I' d bet the Lord himself follows this path in when he wants whatever is out there."

" Let' s get on with it, Lan," urged Inyx. " I feel that time is against us."

" You' re right." He settled his thoughts, worked up the controls needed for his deadliest spells, then entered the room.

Lan Martak froze inside when he saw the face staring at him. Bright, malevolent eyes peered forth from under beetle brows. Dark hair swept back to expose a high forehead. Ears several times too big stuck out like jug handles on either side.

And the head rested on a pedestal.

" It' s like Claybore has been decapitated again," Inyx said in a voice hardly above a whisper.

" Such evil. Look at it," marvelled Lan. " Terrill skinned Claybore in addition to dismembering him. This is the flesh flayed off Claybore' s skull. The skull and eyes beneath this are artificial- the flesh is all Claybore' s. I feel the power radiating from it like heat from a blast furnace."

" I feel it, also," said Knoton.

" And I. This is what holds us in the maze? This?" Inyx walked around the marble pedestal studying the grisly sight. " Only the flesh from the sorcerer' s skull exerts magical power enough to keep us in the Twistings?"

" Every part of Claybore is potent," explained Lan. " Even the skin from his face."

" But it seems so minor!" protested the woman. She drew her sword and started to slash at the head.

" Wait," said Knoton, holding her arm and preventing the stroke. " Wait for what Lan Martak has to say."

" Hmmm, oh, thanks, Knoton. You' re right. Destroying it physically isn' t possible. It must be done magically." Lan' s attention drifted from the others and back to the spell Abasi- Abi had spent much of his lifetime perfecting. If a truly major portion of Claybore' s body had been found, Lan doubted the spell would have worked, that he had the expertise to cast it. But for such a minor bodily artifact, he thought he might be successful.

He took the leather- bound grimoire and chanted the complex spell repeatedly. All around him rose a shimmering curtain of energy, cutting him off from the others, making him an island unto himself. This battle had to be fought alone, using weapons he scarcely comprehended. A dead sorcerer' s spell turned against a living, disembodied sorcerer' s flesh- and Lan Martak was the agent delivering the potent magical energies.

He controlled and guided immense flows. At first he thought he failed. He kept on, persisting until sweat flowed in thick rivers down his face. Lan never once wiped away the perspiration. His concentration had to be perfect, his chanting impeccable.

" It' s changing shape," cried Inyx. " Keep on, Lan. You' re doing it!"

Lan Martak scarcely heard her. He had caught a tiny thread, teased it, pulled on it. This led him to a slightly larger string, then to a cable. He tugged harder and harder until elation mounted inside.

" Almost there. Almost have it. Almost oh, yes, there!"

The potent spells locked in Claybore' s facial skin vanished, but in that instant of dissipation a gateway between worlds opened.

Lan Martak faced the fleshless skull and limbless torso of Claybore, master mage and would- be conqueror.

" You' ve ruined my face, worm. My face is destroyed! So shall yours be!" The deep eye sockets clouded over, then boiled with the turbulence of ruby death. The beams shone forth directly at Lan, but he had encountered these before and lived. The beams deflected from his body. Behind, he heard the very walls of the Twistings begin to sizzle and burn.

" This is only the beginning, Claybore," said Lan in slow, measured tones. " I failed miserably when you regained your body. No longer. Your face is gone forever. So shall your tongue go."

" My tongue?" The death beams winked out. " How do you know about that?"

Lan allowed the control spells he held to weaken. The gateway between him and Claybore vanished. It was a pathetic gesture, this taunting of the sorcerer, but it was all Lan could do. At the moment.

" Are you all right?" asked Knoton, hurrying to the human' s side. Strong metals arms supported Lan.

" All right? I' m great!"

" You destroyed it, Lan. The skin is gone. Nothing but ash left. And even more important, the geas holding us inside the Twistings is lifted. I can' t feel it anymore."

" Yes, it' s gone," he agreed. Weakly, he cast forth magical tendrils, seeking out the Lord of the Twistings' spells. Most had vanished. " And the Lord knows what has happened. He underestimated us. He thought his minor traps and the maze creatures would stop us. He' s lost!"

" Come along, then. Let' s find the entry point and put a real end to him," declared Knoton.

" He' s mine," said Inyx.

" I want him," Lan said.

" We can argue over it on our way out. Free!" screamed Knoton. " We are free of the Twistings!"

Lan indicated one of the giant holes blasted through the wall by Claybore' s ruby death beam. They climbed through to rejoin Krek and the others. Lan felt elated at his victory; he also felt as if every bone in his body had turned to water.

" Help me, Inyx," he said. " Otherwise, I' ll fall flat on my face."

" If you do, we go together," she said.

They hurried off to the entry point, following Knoton and his mechanicals.

" Slow down, Knoton," called out Lan. " I can' t keep up."

" Don' t worry about him," said Inyx. " He senses release from the Twistings. He' s been trapped here for five years- and I think he might be guessing wrong. There' s never anything to indicate the passage of time."

" Knoton' s time sense is accurate. He runs an internal clock," said Krek. " An admirable ability, always knowing what time it is. Though what use it would be to a mountain arachnid, I cannot say offhand. We swing so freely, the breezes gently caressing our furry legs, swinging us in our webs. Ah, yes, how I long for those days. It will be good to escape this infernal underground."

" Krek," said Lan. " Stop the mechanicals. There might be traps ahead they can' t detect."

" Nothing stands between them and freedom now."

Lan still worried. The destruction of Claybore' s face had lifted the geas holding them in the maze. Obviously, the longer in the Twistings, the more powerful the spell became on an individual. That also meant the urge to flee, once the geas lifted, would be greater in those who' d been the longest in the maze world.