Cenotaph Road Omnibus : Books 1-3, page 17
“I’ll be leaving you here, Krek. Good Luck, old spider.” Lan stroked fondly over the fur of the leg nearest him, then turned to Inyx. “And I’m sorry to be leaving you, too. I can’t help but feel things might have been different in a less strained circumstance.” Lan bathed in the radiance of her smile and realised for the first time how lovely Inyx truly was. Shakily, he held out his hand and was surprised to find her pull him close for a proper kiss.
“I shall miss your bull-headed ways, you stupid fool,” she said softly, but without sting of sarcasm. Lan wanted to say just the right words, but none came.
“Lan Martak, we are trapped!” came Krek’s warning. Lan shot a glance over his shoulder in time to see the commander of Waldron’s guard run from the prison tower, scan the courtyard, and spy them. A shout caused a drowsy sentry to ring the warning bell and rapidly fill the castle grounds with sleep-dazed, half-armed men. When the grey-clad soldiers came fully awake, the trio would find themselves prisoners once again — unless the gateway produced by the Kinetic Sphere still quivered open between worlds.
“That’s the door. Hurry!” Lan cried, pushing the others in front of him. It proved difficult herding Krek, but necessity lent strength to his efforts. Slamming the door behind, he searched frantically for a locking bolt. There was none.
“The Road is still open,” said Inyx. “Quickly, Lan, let’s all tread that path again.”
“Get going,” he ordered. “I’ll hold them as long as I can. And don’t stand around arguing.”
“He is lamentably correct, friend Inyx. Go and forge ahead for us. We shall come shortly.”
Inyx nodded, then ran for the shimmering curtain drawn between them and the ball. It seemed a perfect stereographic projection, each point on the surface of the sphere corresponding to a point on the planar sheet of dancing, scintillant energy. Inyx plunged through, vanishing from the sight of the two remaining behind.
“Go on, Krek, before Waldron shuts the damned thing down and strands you here, too.”
“I go. Hold tightly,” he said cryptically. Krek trotted to the edge of the gateway, then shot out a sticky strand of the web stuff that curled around Lan’s middle. He continued holding the door shut against the increasing efforts of the soldiers outside. Lan then felt himself jerked into the air and sliding along the smooth floor toward the inter-world portal. Krek bounded through, and Lan followed, a human balloon on a string.
The entire world turned black, then shattered around him. He thought his head had exploded, then worried that it hadn’t and he’d gone insane. The pain finally drove away consciousness, and soothing dark velvet wrapped soft arms around him in silent greeting.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A herd of multi-legged beasts cavorted joyfully on his head. Lan Martak put his arms over his head to protect himself from their manic depredations, but this did no good. If anything, it increased the roar and pain inside his skull. Opening his eyes didn’t prove as traumatic for him as he’d feared from the interior throbbings. The dismal greyness surrounding him was almost soothing, Then came the grating harshness of human voices.
“He’ll be fine in a while. Took a nasty blow to the head as you dragged him through.”
“I suspect my feeble efforts are not so much to blame as the closing of the gateway just fractions of a second after he came through to this side.”
“That might be true. Even I felt the vortex of energy seething around the path, and in the past I’ve never been particularly sensitive to such things.”
Lan rolled over and peered at the two. Inyx sat, her feet neatly tucked under her, facing Krek. Beyond was a world lacking contrasts. The sky stretched a leaden grey as if rains were imminent, the grass shone with an odd mottled greyish-green, the trees sported redolent, brittle sword-like leaves hardly differing in hue from the grass, and the very air hung with scummy grey particulate matter, the residue from too many coal and wood fires. The only thing colourful in the entire world was the red pain searing through his head like a heated battle axe.
“I assume we made it,” he said slowly, the words thick and muddled. “Unless this is our reward for a lifetime of sin and evildoing. It looks too much like the bog world for it to be anything else.”
“A reward it might be, but we still live,” pointed out Inyx. “Waldron failed to cut off the Road soon enough to prevent our passage. I cannot be sure, but I think a heavy wagon passed along just before us, one laden with all types of foodstuffs.”
“The mention of food reminds me how feeble I have become. It seems years since a good meal of grubs and bugs rested lightly in my digestive tract. Let us find sustenance, then discuss more worldly matters,” urged Krek.
“I think the spider has a good idea. Can you move yet, Lan?”
“Whether I can or not, we’d better make tracks away from here. If Waldron sends a patrol after us through the gateway, they are sure to find us if we simply lie around.” He peered around, wondering why Waldron had chosen this particular area for establishing a roadway through his Kinetic Sphere into Krek’s web world. There seemed little to recommend the location other than the brownish ribbon of dirt road slithering off toward the gently hillocked horizon. A heavy grey-green pall swirled in eddies no matter which direction Lan peered.
They staggered along for some time until Krek accumulated enough small insects to form a brief repast. Inyx ordered Lan to rest while she hunted food for them. The throbbing in his head had cleared, but he was grateful for her offer. He even slept, only to awaken with the smell of roast rabbit in his nostrils.
“This seems an unappetising world, save for the rabbit,” he said. “Never have I seen such featureless terrain, lacking in colour, texture, and character. Even the bog world I met Krek on held some little variation.”
“And the air is thick with ugly odors, too,” Inyx added; “Friend Krek is luckier than we on that score.”
“Lucky, you call it? When such small bugs are all I can find to eat? Why, I shall surely starve to death in a fortnight without proper food. I am already weakened to the point of starvation, and the distance from my web further saps my strength. Oh, how do I find myself in these impossible situations?”
“You cast your lot with us,” said Lan dryly. “But what world is this? Can it truly be Waldron’s home? I thought a conqueror’s world offered something more than this spent countryside.”
He attacked the burnt rabbit with the ferocity of a man too long gone past his mealtime. The grease only added flavour; it seemed at odds with the blandness of the world. After he and Inyx had shared the meagre portion of the brains for dessert, Lan leaned back against the smooth trunk of a tree and picked his teeth with a small bone taken from the rabbit’s leg. In spite of the fact that Waldron probably had droves of grey-clad soldiers on their trail, he felt complacent and even content with his lot in life.
“No reason why not. In point of fact, friend Lan Martak, we might query those starvelings about it.”
The roadway rumbled with the sound of a lopsided dogcart with wear-flattened wheels being pulled by two people. Their heads held low, they saw nothing but the dirt in the road bed. Lan called out to them, then waved, saying under his breath, “Vanish for a short while, Krek. We don’t want to scare them too badly.”
The spider gusted a sigh. “Even my friends are ashamed of me. Pity that I am such a poor creature, unable to fight the good fight, to maintain myself in the manner to which I would like to become accustomed.” Then, after he seemed no more than an inert rock in the grey countryside, he added, “Ask for any insects they might have on them.”
Lan shuddered when the pair drew closer. The only bugs likely to come from these two would be body lice.
“Welcome, fellow travellers,” Lan called out in what he hoped was a cheerful tone. The suspicion with which the two viewed him made him think a picture warrant for his arrest had preceded him. Yet the reactions of the two seemed more of inbred rampant paranoia than specific fear.
“Are you from the other side?” asked the woman, taking the initiative while her man stood watch over the pitiful belongings stacked helter-skelter on the dogcart.
“Yes, we both walked the Road,” said Inyx, motioning Lan to silence. He propped himself against the tree, hoping to appear at ease and not a threat to these people. Without sword or dagger, his head still ringing like a ceremonial bell, either of these two emaciated grey-worlders might have bested him.
“You look well fed. I suspected that you did,” the woman said. Lan tried to figure out if she were old or merely appeared old. It made Little difference; life was obviously harsh on this world.
“We have been most recently in King Waldron’s castle on the next world,” Inyx said boldly, hoping this would add stature to their position with the couple.
“Aye, and that’s a good thing. The Saviour needs to keep his finger on the world pulse. Are you to report back to him? You have the look of couriers, though you don’t wear the uniform of the Service.”
“We are supposed to go among the people and listen to their pleas. Could you tell us yours?”
“That I will,” spoke up the man for the first time. “Hail the Saviour! Praise the great Waldron! We are currently making way to the new settlement outside Ligginton. The wealth of other worlds flows into this one, at long last! Bless the day of our Saviour’s birth!”
“And bless the day when we, too, can take part in the Great Migration and leave this miserable world for other, lusher ones,” the old woman added.
“You were more poorly off before?” asked Inyx, surprised anyone’s condition could be more miserable than these two now appeared.
“Aye, that we were. Seven sons and a daughter died of starvation, and my very own mother failed of the consumption, spitting out blackened lungs for a solid month before the demons took her. Breathing the foul air did it to her, it did.”
“Foul air from what?” broke in Lan, curious.
“From the forges, man, from the steel mills, from the factories, from every damn thing burning peat. But with the new gas wells capped off and the food and finery from the conquered worlds acoming in, we have hope of surviving.”
“So you feel Waldron is truly your Saviour?” asked Inyx.
“Aye, that he is,” chimed in the man. “Bless him!”
“Shut up, Gorly,” the old woman said tiredly. “Aye, Waldron of Ravensroost brings life to this exhausted world. Without him only misery would be our destiny. He was smart enough, he was, to grab that sorcerer that came awandering through from another world and make him spit up the secret of the other places.”
“Sorcerer? You mean Shastry or Claybore?” asked Lan, vainly tying to remember the other names Waldron had so casually mentioned.
“Never heard his name, lad. But he plundered at will, taking even from poor folk like Gorly and me, until Waldron put an end to it. And discovering the Road, he calls it, opened up a source of food and clothing for us.”
“Food and clothing not around here. Bless the Saviour. Long live Waldron!”
“Shut up Gorly,” the old woman said.
They truly believed Waldron to be their Saviour. No trace of guile existed; both meant the praise they gave for Waldron. Lan prodded the woman by asking, “Do you know Waldron lives lavishly on the other world?”
“Aye, he comes back to speak with us now and again. He’s promised that we will all one day have such finery. Why, he even gave Gorly here a golden ring. Show these couriers, Gorly.” She nudged the man in the ribs with a scrawny elbow.
The man fumbled in his pocket until he produced the end of a leather thong. Pulling, he fished out a massive ring inset with a precious stone. He proudly allowed it to spin slowly just below eye level.
“Why don’t you trade that for food? It’s worth a young fortune.”
“Trade it? You hear that, Gorly? Trade it, the young one says. You are long away from this world. There is naught to trade for. Our poor farm produced scarcely food for one, much less the pair of us — and we were the most successful in the old Thull Valley. Nay, the new settlement is enriched with alien fertilisers and food is abundant, wagons coming in every day from conquered worlds. And there is even rumour we will no longer burn peat to keep from freezing. Magic from the other worlds will warm us. They even trade the gases from the swamps for other-world goods not sent in proper tribute to our Saviour. Imagine! They use our swamp farts!”
“I see,” said Inyx, slowly assimilating the wealth of information she’d received. “I am sure the Saviour will smile on you again. And may you have more children.”
“Pah! I am no fool. If we get food enough to fill our bellies, why add to the problem with more mouths? Come, Gorly, let’s be off. If we make Ligginton before sunset, we can feed this day.” The two hefted the side-poles and began pulling their pathetic cart along the dusty road leading to their chimerical city filled with such unbelievable commodities as food and warm shelter.
When they were out of sight, Krek rose up and stretched cramped legs. He yawned once, clacking his mandibles together, and finally said, “It seems evil Waldron is a saint to his people. I must admit this is a most dismal world. Why, even the mere-spiders spin paltry webs, as if their hearts aren’t in the endeavour.”
“This is a tired, overused world,” said Inyx. “But it is wrong to loot adjoining worlds along the Road for the betterment of this one.” She looked around and shuddered. “But why can’t they add some colour other than grey? This is so depressing.”
“I agree about that,” muttered Lan. “Krek? Find us another cenotaph to get off this world and onto another, more hospitable one.”
“You have given up your futile quest to regain the treasure lost and that Velika female?”
“No,” Lan said slowly. “But I’ll be in a better position to launch an attack against Waldron after I’ve had some substantial food and a nice bed to catch up on lost sleep. This world cannot furnish those, so I’ll recuperate, then rescue Velika.”
“As if she needed rescuing,” snorted Inyx. “That’s one bitch who can roll with the punches and come to her feet. Or rather, end up on her back. Never have I seen such selfishness or viciousness.”
“In Velika?” asked Lan, startled. “Hardly. She’s quite the opposite, in fact. She can hardly protect herself in the world Waldron’s created. And you are a fine one to talk of bloodthirstiness. I’ve seen you swinging a sword and slaughtering soldiers left and right.”
“At least my ruthlessness is open, not under the covers like Velika’s.”
“You misjudge her.” Lan lapsed into silence, worried at the way both Krek and Inyx felt about Velika. While he had hardly been charmed by her disavowal of them in front of Waldron, he was positive that had been part of an abortive plan on Velika’s part to rescue them all. Something had gone wrong; that was why she had failed to free diem from the prison tower before their execution time. Lan felt his innards twisting about in confusion. A burning sensation, more from memory than physical reality, stung his lips, his fingertips. His head ached horribly and threatened to explode like a bomb with his internal emotional conflicts — and he didn’t even know what the opposing sides were, much less what they fought over. He hadn’t the objectivity to study it, nor the time. He had to decide this matter once and for all time.
Velika wasn’t the vicious schemer Inyx pictured her as. Velika’s failure to free them in time proved that. Otherwise she’d have succeeded easily in getting them out of their chains and Waldron’s castle.
“Where’s the cenotaph leading off this world, Krek?” repeated Inyx. “I tire of this dreary world — and the company we’re keeping.”
“Everyone tires of my company because I am such a pitiable creature. And I am sure you will heap further indignities on my head when I tell you that there is no cenotaph on this world that opens the Road. Only Waldron’s artificial gateway impinges on my muzzy mind.”
“That figures.” Inyx sighed. “No one of sufficient bravery has ever existed on this world to create the confined energies needed to open the Road. They’re probably all too busy scuttling out a living from the thin soil to go adventuring.”
“That means we’ve got to go back through Waldron’s gate or we’ll be marooned here. That’s why Waldron hasn’t sent his soldiers. He knows we’re trapped on his home world.” Lan reached for his sword and found only emptiness. Fighting back to the other world — and Velika — seemed more difficult with each passing second.
*
“Still another wagon of food and clothing,” said Inyx, squinting slightly into the afternoon glare. The grey clouds had lifted a little but not enough to bolster their flagging spirits. The armed guards standing on either side of the shimmering curtain of pure energy effectively barred their return. They might kill one or two of the grey-clad soldiers, but to eliminate all five in such a way that an alarm wasn’t raised appeared impossible. Waldron’s skill as a general showed even in small details such as sentry duty.
Inyx had scouted the countryside while Lan had rested, finding the reason for the gateway’s existence here. The town of Ligginton lay only a few miles down the road. Through the gate passed food to supply the city, such as it was. Inyx reported that the town consisted of Little more than hovels pushed together to share common walls.
The idea that this polluted, overcrowded, dirty, ill-supplied city was superior to a farm had revolted her. Yet that seemed to be the case.
“I shall sacrifice myself,” announced Krek. “I am too cowardly to kill myself. This will redeem me in your eyes for all my past cowardices. Oh, why am I such a disgrace to all spiderdom?” He waded like wind curling through an aeolian harp. Lan felt the dejection, too, but didn’t show it. He didn’t want to further depress the spider.
“A possibility exists,” said Inyx, after considering the situation for a few more minutes. “Can the guards see through the hindside of the path opened by Waldron?”
“We can see into the other world. I don’t understand why they — of course! If all we can see from this side is the world to which the Road opens, then they can’t see us sneaking up on them, using the gateway as a shield!” Lan felt more enthusiastic about their chances of returning than ever before. “They might not think to post men there, and if they did, we can remove them without the others seeing.”
