“Damn Claybore,” she said viciously.

“Agreed,” whispered Nowless, “but the thrice-damned mage has not been on this planet in long years. All we can do is remove the trash he left us.”

The officer was unceremoniously dropped outside the gates to the fort. A signal brought the thunder of hooves as the rest of Nowless’s band drove off the horses they weren’t stealing.

Whether the sound alerted another guard or some other indiscretion had, alarm gongs sounded throughout the fort.

“We have a bit of a fight on our hands now,” said Nowless. “We’d best let them get a ways down the road, don’t you think?” He indicated those of his men escaping up the slopes.

“We can hold them long enough,” said Inyx. “Ducasien has been longing for this, haven’t you?”

“At last,” the man cried, “an honorable way of fighting!”

Ten of Nowless’s men rode up and held horses for them to mount, but by the time they’d settled into stirrup and saddle, the first wave of greys rushed from the fort.

Inyx’s blade rose and dropped, severing an ear. She kicked another in the face and reined her mount around to face still another enemy. The woman’s blade sang its restless song of death, and she was finally able to forget about Lan Martak in the heat of the battle.

Only when they galloped off into the night, the cries of the grey-clad soldiers following them, did she again think of Lan.

There would have to be more slaughter-much more-for his memory to be erased totally.

CHAPTER FOUR

Krek lurched forward and settled into the crypt, long legs fitted tightly beneath his body. Leaving his friend Inyx troubled him, but staying with her troubled him even more. She would continually remind him of the good times they had spent with Lan Martak. Such a prod to the memory only produced morbid thoughts, Krek knew.

It was better to make a clean split, find a new world, walk new paths.