Robert Vardeman - Cenotaph Road

" A holding force?"

" More likely a bodyguard. For Waldron," said Lan grimly. " And if he' s still here, I' ll wager Velika is, too. I don' t feel too great, but this might be our only chance to free her." He started off on shaky legs, his hands trembling and his vision still slightly blurred.

" A moment, Lan," demanded Inyx. " We- Krek and I- have no interest in that blond bitch, but we will aid you in return for your promise of the Kinetic Sphere. To be able to walk the Road without searching out the scattered cenotaphs, and not having to bow to their haphazard destinations, would be a boon of incalculable value."

" If we possess the glowing sphere," added Krek, " I would be unable to find the natural cenotaphs, anyway. The power is far too great for me to penetrate the occluding veil it casts, but it would not matter if we sought out worlds we desired to explore. I remember one I spent some little time on years and years ago. Grubs as thick as your wrists! Never a worry about food. And:"

" I get the idea," said Lan, his mind racing. As much as he would have loved to keep the Kinetic Sphere for himself, he had to admit it would be better used by Inyx. And if he and Velika settled down on this world after Waldron was properly routed, why did he need to walk the Road at will? " I accept your offer, and in return, not only will I give you the Kinetic Sphere, but all the treasure you can carry."

" Fair. Shake." Their hands gripped once, then slipped down each other' s forearm to signify a permanent pact. Both started when a furry leg was added to theirs.

" Your sword- your nearness!- is a gift I can scarce repay, Inyx," he said, his voice choking slightly. " And Krek, without you I' d be dead many times over." He hurriedly wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and saw Inyx surreptitiously do the same. It would be difficult without her and Krek.

But for Velika!

What would he really do for the woman? Lan struggled with the inner turmoil again, the internal war that confused and bothered him. He loved her. He did! Yet:

" Let' s get this over with while you' re still able to stand upright," said Inyx gruffly. She swung off down the hall, with Krek and Lan following a few steps behind. Lan didn' t know if it was the possibility of sudden death or his eyes slowly opening to the world around him, but never had he seen Inyx so trim, so athletic, so beautiful. Her loveliness didn' t match Velika' s, but there is beauty and beauty. While Velika was the sheltered rose, the hothousenurtured beauty, Inyx impressed him as more of the wildflower growing in spite of adversity and appearing all the more desirable for it.

Then all such poetic nonsense flew from his mind as the hallway filled with grey- clad soldiers. He lunged well past Inyx, using his superior reach, and pinked the officer' s arm as he drew forth his blade. The enemy sword clattered to the floor when Inyx spitted him through the hollow of the throat. The other four men were as easily removed by quick snips of Krek' s fast- moving mandibles.

" Inside the audience chamber," came the spider' s appraisal. " Only a handful of humans there."

" Watch for the damned ravens," cautioned Lan as he kicked open the door. None of the winged messengers of death attacked, but he found himself fighting swordsmen far better than he. His wounds slowly took their toll of his strength. He had to rely on stealth rather than strength if he were to live much longer. Using every trick he could remember, Lan killed one man. Then he used a quick cut over to slay a second. The third demanded more attention and skill. And Lan found his stamina fading like a flower petal before winter' s onset. The man executed a bind that sent Lan' s blade sailing through the air. Before the death stroke landed, a dagger blossomed in the soldier' s side.

Inyx had accurately cast her knife, saving Lan still another time. He didn' t have time to thank her, except by joining against the three men she held at swordpoint. Her skill was great, but their lunges were longer, their attacks appearing to snake from impossible distances.

" Here goes nothing!" she cried, then heaved herself into the trio. She slashed the legs from under one, and the other two stumbled under her weight. Lan had no time for a chivalrous fight. Seated on a throne to the right of Waldron, who calmly watched the slaughter, was Velika.

Lan pledged the first death for her. And the next.

Inyx spun and gave the final death stroke to the remaining soldier vainly trying to get his slashed leg under him to continue the fight.

Sword dripping gore, Lan walked to stand before the throne.

" I have come for her," he said simply.

Waldron' s eyebrows rose a trifle and he laughed. " You came for her? That' s rich. I thought you lusted after the secret of the Kinetic Sphere. Or possibly just a few trinkets to amuse you on wintry evenings. But her?" His laughter annoyed Lan; then he took a firmer hold on his emotions. Waldron was expert at manipulating public sentiment; he knew the precise method to needle Lan, make him act without thinking, and thus kill him the more easily.

" Fight or die where you sit, scum!"

" Very well, put that way, I can hardly deny you the right of dying. I had really hoped to avoid this unpleasantness. Would a few carts of gold and jewels buy you off?"

" You try to bribe me? Why do you stay here? If I were you, I' d' ve been long gone. Or at least ensconced in a safe place with troops to protect me."

" Protection from my own people is the last thing I need. My vassals are content, having more to eat than ever in the history of our world. Why do you think I offer you worthless jewels? You cannot eat pretty silicates. My people need only food- and that I give them, along with hope for a better future. As for my troops, they are scavenging the countryside for food even now to offset the bitter winter wearing down half my world. If you had not forced your way through the artificial gateway, I, too, would be out importuning this world' s peasants for charity. But alas, no, I must stay to deal with you."

" Charity! You steal and then force them to call it charity?"

Waldron' s expression flowed from a dark scowl to bemusement. " I don' t know what you mean. Yes, I subdue those who oppose me, but I never kill wantonly or steal food from the mouths of those who sorely need it. I am the Saviour of my world and the conqueror of this. Treacherous behavior would cause the people to demand my head- and get it!"

" I demand your head for the vile things you' ve done to my world."

Lan Martak remembered lovely Zarella and his half- sister Suzarra and how Kyn- alLyk- Surepta, in the name of Waldron Ravensroost, had slain them. The old sheriff was living out his days watching the greyclad soldiers slowly extort power from him. And that was a world with only the barest of toeholds. What of the others?

And Lan could never forgive Waldron for what he had done to Velika.

He had lost Zarella to Waldron' s men. He would not lose Velika to Waldron.

" I demand your head!" raged Lan, his blade slashing in the air, scattering red droplets of blood before him.

" Really, you are the one who should apologize," said Waldron, his voice level. " You kill my best generals, come raging through like a berserk pard, and now you demand the- gods- alone- know- what."

As he spoke, Waldron reached beside him and lifted a small wooden case. One side hinged upward. Waldron lifted the door to expose a desiccated skull inside.

" Good- bye," said Waldron, smiling wickedly. He thumped the back of the box.

Lan watched in frozen awe as the skull impossibly opened empty eyes. In the hollows, dull red coals began to smoulder, then burn, and finally take on a fire that dazzled him, that set his magic- sensing ability screaming. He instinctively rolled to one side to escape the incandescent path of that gaze.