World of Mazes

Still, a civil war raged outside. He' d seen rebel howlers battling against the greys. That meant support for this palace revolt existed.

" He' s returned to his playroom, as you called it, Inyx. He is working spells I can' t begin to understand, but they are potent ones." Lan opened his eyes and twisted his head so that he could see Krek. Human and spider locked gazes for a moment. Krek finally bobbed his head in silent, reluctant agreement that he would do as Lan wished.

" I' ll take him now," the woman declared. She hefted both of the death tubes and started for the room. Inyx hadn' t gone five paces before a silken strand of web tangled her feet. She turned, sat down hard. An unbelieving look on her face, the dark- haired woman started to protest. Another gout of web- stuff circled her at the shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides. Still another closed off any protests.

" I do not like this, friend Lan Martak," complained the spider.

" It' s got to be done. She wouldn' t stand for a second against him. Not with the spells he' s conjuring."

" Do you need my aid?"

" Thanks, old spider. This is one battle that has to be fought alone." Lan walked off, trying not to look at Inyx. He failed in this. He went to her, whispered in her ear. " He' s a mage. I' m the only one here who has the slightest chance of defeating him." He kissed her. Inyx' s eyes glared hot and blue at him.

It didn' t make walking into the playroom any easier.

Lan had never felt more alone. Tired from his exertions in the Twistings, he barely held on to the control spells he needed for forging his defenses, his attacks. Krek and Inyx had to remain behind; in the battle he dared not have them in danger. The Lord would use them against him if at all possible. He had to maintain complete concentration, without worry for his friends' safety, or he would definitely fail.

But he was tired, so tired. Exhaustion worked on his body as if he carried a ton of lead. Even the shoulder that had sustained the mechanical' s dart ached, and that wound had long since healed.

" Don' t make this any harder," he called out. " Surrender. Let the citizens elect a new Lord of the Twistings."

" A new Lord?" came the hysterical reply. " A new one? I' m the only Lord they need. I give them all the illusion their small minds can handle. I present epics for their amusements. I keep them happy. Why should they replace me?"

" The Twistings is no more. Your political prison is gone. I might be able to keep the mechanicals from killing you, though why I should try is beyond me. Maybe it' s because you' re human, too."

" Human? I' m more than human. I' m Lord!"

Lan edged into the room. The cubes of mazes filled almost every possible area, the path between them forming a maze of its own. Lan peered into the glass cubes as he penetrated further into the Lord' s last bastion. Tiny people stared out, imploring, sobbing. They knew that their freedom depended on the outcome of this magical battle. They knew Lan wanted their freedom.

Lan' s mouth turned dry from nerves. The air felt moist about him, almost as if he walked on an ocean bottom. As he moved, it changed until he felt as if he swam through a sponge. The denseness meant a spell working against him- and one he didn' t understand. His hand rested lightly on the leather- bound grimoire he' d been given. To have had time to master the spells in it! To have mastered just a few:

" You are the one who released them from the Twistings. How did you do it? Why did you do it?"

" You know why." Lan moved through the room until he came to one wall. He guessed the Lord stayed near his newest concoctions, possibly drawing power from those mazes holding trapped humanity. " Claybore wants to take over every world along the Cenotaph Road. He' s caused me enough grief that I have to oppose him."

" But the Twistings!"

" Your artifact generating the geas holding everyone inside the maze was a part of Claybore at one time. Destroying it prevents him from ever regaining his full power."

Lan saw the Lord now. The man had changed into the fool' s costume. He cavorted and danced along one edge of a maze. Clutched to his chest was a pale blue book.

" This is my finest maze," said the Lord. He sat on the edge of the cube, legs dangling and kicking. " And this is the plan for it. Oh, it is a good plan, too. I am astounded at my own brilliance. There are ever so many unique features inside."

Had he gone over the edge into total insanity? Or was this some ploy to lull Lan into thinking him harmless?

It didn' t matter. For what he had caused, the endless agony, the untold misery, he had to die. Insane or not, he had to be stopped from further treachery.

Lan' s fire spell welled up, ran down the length of his arms, exploded from fingertips. The fat blue sparks arced forth to touch the Lord. Nothing happened. Lan built the energy again, this time releasing a titanic bolt of energy that should have destroyed half the palace. Nothing. The Lord turned, eyes wide and innocent, as if seeing Lan for the first time.

" Why do you want to hurt me?" he asked.

The power he controlled was immense, and Lan felt his own powers weakening perceptibly.

" Give up to Knoton and the others," said Lan. His voice trembled from the strain. If the fire spell didn' t work, he had to try another. But what?

The answer was given to him. Defense. The Lord laid down the book of blueprints and clapped his hands. Lan was driven to his knees by the pile- driver force hitting him. He turned his full attention to defense, erecting a protective barrier of his own. Blow after blow smashed into his body. He tried to deflect the force, to deny it, to counter it. All attempts failed. He felt as if he were being turned into a jellyfish. Joints snapped and bones almost broke.

Lan staggered forward. He had to stop the Lord. Now.

" Why don' t you try out my brand- new maze? It' s a very clever one. Oh, yes, so very clever. Come, enter."

Lan screamed as a powerful force swept him up and off his feet. He fell heavily beside the Lord, pinned down as if a dozen men sat on his chest. Then he began to sink through the surface of the cube. Watching, he saw the Lord grow in apparent size; he was being reduced and thrust into the cubic maze.

" Yes, it is a nice maze. I have it all here. The only way to escape is written down in these plans. And they are very, very clever, oh so complex. I don' t even remember them all myself. Which is why I keep them written down." The Lord of the Twistings cackled demonically.

And Lan experienced real pain.

Every fiber of his body was pulled and strained to the utmost. It was as if he had been crushed in the jaws of a vise and jerked apart at the same time. He rolled, trying to dodge the red agony mounting inside and threatening to overwhelm him.

As quickly as the pain had begun, it stopped. Gasping, on hands and knees, sweat pouring in rivers to puddle on the transparent floor, he tried to regain his senses.

" That was merely the first trap set in my maze. There are others, ever so much nicer. Do trigger one of them. I wish to see how effective they are."

Lan looked up. He felt as if he' d aged a hundred years in a few minutes. Without even casting any of his spells, he knew it was impossible to escape. The barriers between him and the Lord were enormous. He was caught forever in another maze.

" You' re not playing with me. I don' t like that."

The trapped man discovered what that displeasure could bring. Not more pain. Fear. Gut- wrenching fear. He shrieked and clawed at slick glass walls. Everything he' d ever been frightened of in his life came to him. The dark, soul- crushing absolute dark. Tight, closed- in places. Slithering noises coming up behind him. Blindness. Helplessness. He couldn' t see and he was trapped in a tight little box. Buried alive. Worms gnawing on his vitals, crawling through the empty sockets where his eyes had been. He clawed at his face, felt the flesh strip off under bloodied fingernails.