Artifact of Evil (22 page)

"Beware, Chert!" Gord called suddenly. "He takes tiger form!"

Chert instantly loosed his hold and was on his feet, reaching for a nonexistent weapon – the axe, Brool, which was usually at his broad leathern girdle. Meanwhile, the enraged Raug was completing his transformation. From a two-hundred-fifty-pound man he had changed to a tiger of twice that weight, and there was murder in the great cat's baleful eyes. The other tiger-weres were hissing – whether in encouragement or some other emotion, Gord knew not. Without hesitation, the young thief snatched up Chert's mighty axe and sent it spinning toward his friend in one smooth motion.

"Chert!"

The barbarian caught the weapon without taking his eyes off the tiger, standing poised to bring the great blade arcing to meet any attack. Neither antagonist moved. Suddenly, Tirrip was between them.

"Stop this! Slaughter is not permitted by our Master – you know that, Raug. Shame! And you!" she spat at Chert. "As a guest, how dare you bare a weapon in such manner!"

Raug was growling curses but returning to man form. The barbarian was sheepishly lowering his weapon.

"Stupid cubs! Little boys! That's what you are," the angry female said, looking disdainfully from one to the other. "You, Raug, were arrogant and couldn't accept an honest defeat at the hands of a mere human, so you resorted to foul play."

Raug, now again appearing as a man, flushed and looked away, but there was no escape, for the others were still hissing at him, and the sound was clearly one of disapproval. Raug slunk out of the ring. Tirrip turned to Chert again.

"Would you kill another over a wrestling match? All were on your side, and simply stepping back would have sufficed to end the confrontation. No! You had to show your manliness and bravery, didn't you? Well, think on the result had you used that weapon – and be glad I stopped your stupidity."

Now it was Chert's turn to look elsewhere. He shuffled from the beaten circle and tossed Brool casually to rest on the grass again, pretending nothing had happened. "You two," Tirrip said flatly, "will shake hands and apologize to each other. You are going to behave properly and not spoil things for the rest of us. Do it now!"

Slowly the two brawny males approached. Then, grinning, they shook hands and began apologizing to each other, sharing the comradeship of males who had been scolded and bullied by a female, a feeling that cut across species to unite them, and the group relaxed and returned to easy mingling. In fact, the whole affair brought them together in better understanding, and soon the three humans and seven tiger-weres were engaged in all manner of tests to see who could out-excel the other.

After winning at every contest save racing, Gord began to be ostracized by the tigerfolk, and even his friends watched most strangely as he performed. He beat all at swordplay, moving with a speed none of the others could duplicate. He jumped higher and farther than all the others. Tirrip barely outdistanced him running. None could get a grip on him in wrestling. Although he could not throw Raug, Chert, or the other male, Yeeor, he managed to defeat them in wrestling through agility and what seemed like trickery to his opponents. Gellor, who had not engaged in the various trials, spoke up.

"It is time to see if you can best me, Gord. The others are not really skilled swordsmen – Chert's weapon is the axe. Will you use long or short blade?"

Grinning and feeling confident, Gord eyed the practice swords that were displayed near his comrade. He selected a small blade not too dissimilar from his own shortsword, hefted it, found its balance satisfactory, and stood on guard. "Ready," he said, his eyes locked on Gellor.

"And I," replied the bard, slowly bringing a longsword up.

A rapid exchange of attacks took place. The feints and parries amazed the onlookers, for such swordplay was rare. The typical mode was to slash, chop, and cut with only an occasional and often fortuitous thrust or parry. Gellor had the longer blade, and he was very fast and clever. Gord's shortsword was quicker in response, however, held as it was by the young thief. In addition, Gord was so agile and fast on his feet that there was much fencing before either opponent managed to touch the other The match would go to whoever managed to hit the other five times. Gellor finally won with a score of five to four

"That was well done," said Gord as he clapped his comrade on the back. His breathing was easy, and only a light sheen of perspiration showed that the young adventurer had been exerting himself.

Gellor drew a deep breath. "For one supposedly skilled in arts other than weapon play, you show remarkable ability. You seem far better than the last time I saw you ply your blade," the bard said almost ruefully as he mopped sweat from his brow with a linen square.

"You'd have slain me easily enough were the contest actual," Gord replied, passing the whole matter off. "Let's wash the grime from these trials from ourselves and find something to eat. I'm famished!"

That suggestion met with general approval, and everyone went off to refresh themselves. Gord, Chert, and Gellor found their clothing clean and ready for wear, it having been seen to by the servants while they had been at sport. They had a surprisingly fine meal in a small, flower-filled atrium. Chert managed to clear every dish of its contents before finally admitting surfeit. Eventually each went off to his own apartment to doze.

"Up, lazybones!" It was Tirrip, looking lovely in a flowering gown of deep green piqued out with golden piping. "There is a sing about to be held, and you must come."

Gord followed and was soon in a high-raftered hall that was filled with felines. Tirrip's friends were there in human form, and there were a number of other people. The young thief wasn't certain about the true form of any of them, but they seemed friendly enough when he was introduced – Gellor and Chert were there ahead of him and already in conversation – Chert with his new comrade Raug and a pair of women unknown to Gord, while Gellor spoke with several others including a white-haired man with pale skin and colorless eyes.

"…Lord Lowen the seneschal; Lowen, this is Master Gord," Tirrip concluded the introduction.

"My pleasure, Gord, and do dispense with the formalities; call me Lowen, please." When the young thief inclined his head in acknowledgement, the seneschal went on. "Your associate here, Gellor, has told me a little of your adventures and how you came here, and I am eager to hear more. Our liege was in too big a hurry to be elsewhere to give me much information about the unexpected arrival of guests such as yourselves."

Gord gave a brief and lucid account of their adventure, omitting all details that pertained to the Second Key of the Artifact of All Evil. He was interrupted often, though, by the quick-witted seneschal, who asked pointed questions required to explain some detail or other. Gellor helped him to manage the virtual interrogation, disguised as it was by polite conversational tone. Lowen seemed altogether too sharp not to detect the gaps in the whole, but he did not ask direct questions about the reason for the party to be where they were, seeming to accept the vague references to political and military matters as sufficient.

" Now that is a lovely ring!" Lowen exclaimed as Gord was describing an encounter with gestures.

"What? Oh, this chrysoberyl? It is nothing," Gord said with seeming modesty as he lowered his left arm to remove the ring from sight.

"Nothing? It is hardly a trantle!" the seneschal said. "A cat's-eye stone is most prized here, of course," he laughed. "That one has an aura of power about it which is unmistakable to such as myself… May I ask how you came by it?"

There was no polite way to avoid this direct inquiry, so Gord simply told Lowen the truth; he'd taken it from a dead thief when he was but a lad. He also added that he was not aware of any special dweomer borne by the ring. The seneschal seemed satisfied, and the matter was dropped. Just then the sing began.

What followed seemed to Gord to be the worst attempt at music he had ever heard. There was endless screeching and yowling, accompanied by basso growls and falsetto howls. It was, in fact, a massed caterwauling performed by feline and were-feline throats from housecat to tiger-were. The cathedral-ceilinged hall was filled with creatures who seemed to find this wonderful, but the three humans came near to clapping their hands over their ears and fleeing. After a time, though, the general chorus broke up, groups going here and there to continue the festivity in discrete company, more or less.

"Let's walk in the garden," Tirrip suggested.

Gord found that a fine idea, despite the occasional clumps of yowling "singers" that were there. Eventually even these serenades were ceased, and the remainder of the night was pleasant indeed.

Three days later their host returned from whatever business he had been about. The Catlord said nothing about his affairs, and the three men who were his guests dared not make impolite inquiry. They had been well cared for and comfortable. The enforced inactivity galled them, however, and all were itching to be back on the trail of the artifact they sought so desperately. Gellor broached the matter of their return, and the Master Cat said that the matter would be accomplished to their satisfaction in due course.

"Prepare your gear," he told them, "and be ready for departure soon. Please be so kind as to see to Gord's things too, for I would speak to him for a bit before you take your leave."

Puzzled, Gord watched Chert and the one-eyed bard depart for their quarters. What could the Catlord wish to talk to him about? Granted, they had met once before, but that matter had been satisfactorily settled to both his and Gord's evident benefit. This matter was of another sort, and only the Master Cat knew, but Gord would soon learn of it, he reflected.

"Your thoughts are plain, Gord." The comment startled the young adventurer from his pondering, but the dark-haired man spoke on, ignoring this. "Don't be surprised at such stuff as that. You wonder what I am at, and I'll be blunt and plain. Your mission is known to me, and I approve. No active part will I take, but I will give you some information that may assist you in your coming adventures."

"You are aware of the Second Key?"

"Yes, as well as the First and the Third – and what they will do if ever joined," the Catlord said somberly. "It is now time for me to tell you about that ring you have worn for some years. You asked once, and I spoke not, for it is one that I myself made long ago. There are eight others like it, but that is something altogether different. Are you now aware of any of its benefits?"

Gord nodded slowly. "I think it enabled me to see clearly through intervening clouds, with vision unnaturally sharp and close… but that is all."

"The dweomer of the ring includes such vision, and the seeing of light not normal for the human eye as well. Even the sharpest-eyed cat sees not as clearly as you when you employ the power of that ring. That is but a minor benison which it conveys. It has a principal power. It saves your life, but only if you are attuned to it. You are, somehow, and this is most surprising to me. It was not meant for humans."

"Not meant for humans?" Gord repeated stupidly, unable to comprehend this.

"Nevertheless, it worked. That, Gord, is how you managed to twist that banishment spell as you did. The casting would never have affected one so powerful and well-shielded as The Reaper when he ventures upon the Prime Material Plane. The ring expended a portion of its dweomer and brought you and your friends here. Now there are eight usages remaining, for all know a cat has nine lives."

At that Gord had to grin. The Catlord was likewise smiling. "It will save me eight more times?"

"That it will… probably. There are always situations in which its dweomer can be negated, so do not become overconfident," the Catlord warned.

"That I will remember," said Gord with feeling.

"Do. The ring has certain other powers you should be aware of, for they do not operate properly without knowledge – sometimes only with concentration, as with the vision power. Those who are, or would prove to be, ill-disposed toward you, are seen in sinister light, thus alerting you of their malign nature. Similarly, should you think on it, most devices and traps will be discernible, so you will notice the covering of a concealed pit, some fell trap loaded with poison or blades, or see in glowing outline magical guards to snare the unwary."

"That I have seen in Rigello's stronghold. Had I but known, the prize might have been mine…" Gord's voice trailed off as he looked accusingly at the Master Cat. "You cheated!"

"Unjustly accused," smiled the Catlord contentedly. "How could I know what understanding you had of the ring? Besides, never was there an obligation to explain such to you. I do so now out of my kindness and a desire to defeat those who would bring ruin to all."

Gord could not but agree with that. "True. I do thank you for this intelligence – and for your hospitality during our stay. Please convey my fond farewell to Lady Tirrip and all the others."

"You are welcome, but not so fast. There is yet a little more. Anxious as you and your companions are, this hiatus will be beneficial, I think," said the Catlord in a serious tone. He poured Gord and himself a pale, greenish wine, handed the young adventurer one of the crystal goblets, and then went on.

"You are thief, acrobat, swordsman, and more. Have you ever considered how it is that you are able to have such skills, to gain and improve them so readily? I have. Your performance in the small contests here must have been spectacular, for I have heard repeatedly about it. Lowen, my trusted seneschal, actually thinks you might be dangerous… no matter! The ring you wear conveys surefootedness, agility, the catlike property of landing on your feet, and magical ability to climb as a cat does as well. Test this, and you will quickly learn – you must already unconsciously draw upon some of the power of the gem."

"You say you had this ring created," interjected Gord. "You tell me of its great power. Why not also explain the reason for making such rings as this and its eight mates?"

The Catlord stared at Gord, assessing him carefully. He saw nothing save honest desire for knowledge and a keen mind trying to discover what lay behind the matter. The Master Cat spoke. "Each of the nine is similar, yet subtly differs from the others. If you are truly attuned to the ring you wear, its dweomer will enable you to transform yourself into a cat of midnight coat, tomcat or great leopard, as you desire. Fitting, isn't it, for one who styles himself as you do at times?"

At this Gord chuckled wryly. "Yes, I am astounded and pleased at all this. More and more wondrous it grows, but still I am at a loss to understand the reason for the existence of these nine magic circlets."

"Each was made as a token and favor for… certain humans, let us say. The nine were bestowed as gifts. Of the other eight I know, just as I now know the whereabouts and owner of this one. I was surprised to learn how you had acquired it, for I had supposed another manner altogether. You told true when you related to Lowen the means by which you gained it… There are unanswered questions for us all, it would seem. Now, let us join your friends, for it is the hour of leave-taking!"

The Catlord accompanied Gord to the upper floor where Chert and Gellor waited. All was in readiness, so they went immediately to a secluded chamber in the Master Cat's own portion of the ring-shaped villa. The room was filled with strange and bizarre trappings and equipment, but Gord had no chance to examine any of it.

"Over there," the Catlord said, pointing to a place on the floor. "See the nine-pointed star between the gold sun and silver moon. There is ample room for all of you to stand within its confines. Lord Melf left us by means provided by one who favors him, but I have only this more prosaic device for magical conveyance. I have attuned it to the castle of the archmage Tenser – do you know him?"

The three adventurers replied in the negative, although Gellor stated that he had heard of him by reputation.

"Tenser is a kindred spirit and allied to me. He is aware of your imminent arrival, so there will be no unpleasant surprises when you appear there."

"Where is the castle of this Tenser located?" asked Gellor.

"In the Cairn Hills near the shores of Nyr Dyv. Tenser will have information for you, I am sure, as he keeps careful track of events of the nature you are concerned with. You should trust him, and do not hesitate to seek his assistance in your quest. He is likely to aid you in some fashion."

"That is welcome news," Gellor said with relief. "It is most likely that we will need to be far to the north of where you send us. If he will but speed us to Chendl, or some similar locale, we will be most in his debt."

At that the Catlord shrugged. "Who can say? Tenser is his own man, but he is fair and just and hates the forces of Evil. Until we meet again!" he said briskly, and rapped the floor with an ebony rod he had gotten from somewhere. There was a rainbow flash, and they were gone.

The gray nothingness, without any of the unpleasant sensations that had previously accompanied their transference to the domain of the Catlord, washed over them for an instant. Then they were within a sunny, round chamber standing within the outlines of a series of circles and cabalistic diagrams set into the stone floor in strips of various sons of metal and other substances. The room was unoccupied except for themselves.

"I smell the scent of the lake," Gord said as he stepped out of the magical diagram and went to gaze out one of the windows that pierced the circumference of the chamber – one facing each of the cardinal compass points, if the sun was any indication.

"You refer to the Nyr Dyv, of course," drawled the one-eyed bard as he and Chert joined their companion and all of them gazed at the panorama revealed by the window. "There are other great bodies of water besides that one, you know."

"I am provincial – not a world traveler such as you, Gellor," Gord said as he inhaled deeply. "Of those other so-called lakes I know nothing. Besides, the smell of the Nyr Dyv is unique – like perfume!"

"More like seaweed and fish," the big barbarian said as he sniffed at the breeze wafting in off the sparkling sheet of blue water, which stretched northward as far as the eye could see.

The three men made a circuit of the chamber, peering from each window in turn. They were at the top of the tallest tower of the castle – Tenser's castle, evidently, although that worthy had not made an appearance yet. The shore of the lake ran gently northeastward from the place the stronghold was built, and Gord hazarded a guess that they were somewhere along the lake's large Midbay, in territory claimed by neither Greyhawk nor Urnst. The cliff-lined shore, rocky verge, and sheer hills of the region made it unpopular with sailors and the bargefolk alike. It was a fine place for someone who didn't care for unexpected company.

The castle itself seemed to have grown from the rocky spire of an ancient mountain worn to a nub by time and the elements. There were similar tors roundabout, but this one thrust up in a place where its neighbors were distant. In fact, the prominence stood in a valley – small and ridged, but a valley nonetheless. A creek ran down the southern slope of the ridge at the lower part of the U-shaped vale, passed along the western side of the fortress, and sped in its deep-cut channel to fall into the lake beyond. Steep-sided cliffs and streambed made the castle nearly unassailable by usual methods. Gord supposed that there were many protections against magical attack as well.

The place rambled along the natural contours of the rock. Far below was a wall that surrounded the place. Where it was pierced for entry were barbican, drawbridge, gatehouse, and portcullis. Turrets and bartizans stuck here and there at the angles were proof against any portion of the machicolated battlements having attackers ascend unmolested. A grassy strip of varying breadth grew between this wall and the rest of the works, although there was a separate bailey from the gate to the place where the rock had been hewn to allow entry into the central spire. Along the paved road were squat stone buildings that formed a parallel set of walls to confine those entering the gate to a narrow way.

From the spire rose the roof of a great hall and several lesser constructions, tied by walks and bridges of stone blocks, crenellated and showing pierced merlons for archery. The ancient rock of the mountain had been hardest where the great tower rose. About half of its seventy-foot height was of this core, shaped but little by tools, but embrasured between natural buttresses of living stone.

"A hard place to assault," Gellor murmured, "and Fli wager that there are rooves and shutters of metal to place when this place is besieged!"

"I prefer the open," Chert said in reply, "to being bottled up in some little place such as this."

Laughing at the truth of that, Gellor and Gord began searching for some means of egress. The barbarian joined them gladly. They could find neither stair nor trapdoor. They were prisoners, it seemed!

"Where is this Tenser?" said Chert angrily. "Mage or no, I have words for one who provides no means of leaving his 'hospitality.' "

Suddenly the floor in the center of the chamber became as transparent as water. Only a faint reflection revealed that something other than air occupied the space where great slabs of polished gneiss had formerly been seen. Then a strange, metallic voice rang out.

"Welcome to my castle! I just discovered that you were already here, and I regret not greeting you sooner. If you will step onto the transparent section of floor, you will be with me shortly."

Gord took the opportunity to test the powers he had just learned his chrysoberyl ring possessed. Neither of his friends seemed eager to comply with the request, eyeing the dear floor suspiciously.

"Come ahead," the young thief said confidently as he stepped directly into the middle of the glasslike floor. "It is as solid as stone!" He did not articulate that he had seen no trick or trap in the area when he gazed carefully at it and thought hard as the Catlord had instructed.

Gellor strode readily enough to stand beside Gord even as he spoke about the firmness that his presence demonstrated. Chert was still nervous, and he moved his bulk gingerly, tiptoeing to take a position with the other two. Immediately upon his so doing, the floor yielded to their weight, and they sank only slightly more slowly than they would have in water.

"Hopping hells!" the barbarian yelled, trying vainly to grab the edge of the floor as he sank past it. Gellor and Gord too made clutching motions, but some force prevented them from grasping the edge of the solid floor they could clearly see.

They sank through the floor of the next level of the tower as well – some sort of laboratory, workroom, and library, from what little they could observe during the brief course of their passage. Again they futilely attempted to hold on. As they sank yet further, however, their rate of descent slowed dramatically, and at the last they floated so softly that their feet barely felt a jolt when they came to rest on a thick rug that was but one of many rich carpets covering the chamber's floor.