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Authors: Gary Gygax

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Dance of Demons (39 page)

BOOK: Dance of Demons
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"Gellor! Gellorl Please hurry, Gellor! I am on the verge of being away, but Gord's weight drags. You must help me bear him along!"

"Hush, girl," the troubador whispered, barely interrupting his deep meditation. "I know that we have only seconds left, but I am doing all I can. Stay with me now, and don't speak again. We'll make it ..." And then he allowed his speech to fall off into silence once more as he resumed concentration.

The ground trembled under her, but Leda blotted that out Whether it was the demon-brute, advancing enemies, or the tread of Tharizdun himself coming near, it made no difference. She had only one hope. Leda returned her thoughts to the realm of insubstantial play of light and dark going ever deeper so as to obtain the land of pure shadow.

It was very hard for Gellor to go past the point where Leda had gone so easily. Shadow exists in many spheres, strongly on the material one, of course. It was from there that Gellor had to step. The nighttime's world comes closest to opening a portal between human realms and the plane of true insubtantiality called Shadowland. The thick shadows of a forested midnight are as a gate to Shadowland, one that can open if the bright rays from the heavens above are just right. Gellor envisioned the light of Luna and Celene making patches of contradiction to the darker stuff of shadow, while the twinkle of a billion far suns made starshine come to thicken the mixture of light and dark Grays grew stronger, with sooty blacknesses opening beneath the canopies above.

He stepped along the penumbrate paths thus built, and at the last moment of the ascendant moons' soarings passed through the slender gateway. It was as if he had to squeeze through a very narrow opening, and that space was closing, constraining, hurting. Gellor wrenched himself beyond, then pulled. Something pushed, and the burden followed the narrow passageway with a rush. "Made it," he gasped, falling over in fatigue.

"We did!" Leda cried with joy. "We made it. troubador, and so did Gord!"

Gellor gave a short chuckle at that, pulling himself into a sitting position from where he had collapsed on the grassy sward of Shadowland. "Now we can see to our comrade. ..."

"Yes, that we must do quickly," Leda said with concern clouding her former elation. "He is the champion. and he must be fit to face the enemy when the next confrontation takes place."

The wealsome forces of the rings will serve, I think." Gellor ventured. "We need to help Gord regain his senses, and then we three can bind the powers of the Spheres of Light to mending whatever hurt was done by the evil of the Eye of Deception."

The attack by Graz'zt was so stupid!" Leda said, for she couldn't control her anger at and disbelief of Graz'zt s sudden assault. "Had that filth not been so cowardly as to assail Gord from behind, Tharizdun would have been defeated and — "

"That all goes without articulation, girl. Think no more on it. Demons are what they are. Graz'zt was bent on destruction of us all for our humiliation of him — because he is a demon and we are otherwise. As a scorpion might, the demon king struck heedless of the resulting damage his sting would bring upon his own head."

Leda spat as if to curse Graz'zt. "He deserves his fate at the hands of the archfiend!"

"True. We are not so deserving, yet I fear that the act of the mad demon has brought foul doom to us three and the cosmos too."

"Gord is living. He fought Tharizdun twice, and each time he would have bested the enemy save that the archfiend had some outside agency rescue him. He is champion, my Gord. He can win a third meeting!"

Gellor had been examining his friend gently as they spoke. The second duel was a near thing, Leda. Tharizdun had gained much power. Now he will be complete, and he will have his yeth. I am gravely concerned."

She stared at the bard in the twilight dimness of the open sward there on the plane of shadows. "What are you telling me?"

"The skull of the boy-Tharizdun is not here, Leda. When we brought Gord here, we somehow failed to create sufficient force to take that grisly trophy along. The archfiend must have it even now. ..."

Before Leda could respond to that, a faint howl came wafting to her ears. It was borne along on the aethereal wind, and it sent long shivers up her spine and ice into her brave heart.

"Now is the beginning of the end," Gellor said heavily.

She would not allow that "Come, troubador! There are shadewolves thick upon the Land of Shadow. They roam the forest and field. What we heard is naught but some pack of them voicing their fell presence to all the others. Come on! We must find habitation and safety. Help me carry Gord to such a place."

"As you wish, lady," Gellor replied. He made no further comment, and the two labored along in silence through the ever-shifting place that was the shadow world. Creatures of the sphere came to investigate, but not even the most ferocious of dark predators drew near. The three bands, Courflamme, and Gellor's kanteel too, kept all such prowling beasts and hungry monsters at a distance. In a short time the two came upon a community of the phantom-folk who were predominant in Shadowland, and in that village they found rest.

The rings they had gained from the transmutation of the three Theorparts had been used heavily. The energies locked within them were growing weak and erratic, especially since there had been no opportunity to expose them to any realm of Goodness where some restoration of their power could be made through drawing upon the forces there. In Shadowland the bands seemed very strong and bright, but anywhere else their auras would have been pale and dim. Both Leda and Gellor understood this, and both worried as to the result when they utilized the rings yet again to restore Gord to health and vigor. Would the tokens of Weal be drained dxy and become useless?

"We have no option in the matter," Gellor said flatly. "Even if we three are then stripped of our last defense against the enemy, we must bring the champion into consciousness and restore him to strength as well."

Leda agreed for many reasons, of course. After she and the bard had rested and recouped their own energy, they went to work to bring their friend back to them from his comatose state. The bands each wore gave up only a slow trickle of power, but along with the magic each of the two was able to activate without the rings, it was sufficient to bring about a gradual change.

Gord's pallor lessened, and his breathing went from shallow, rattling breaths to deep, normal ones, the sounds of one who is in deep and restful slumber. From there he was further restored, and before long he awakened and was able to speak. "Where . . . ?"

"In the realms of the shadows, dearest one," Leda answered softly.

"I . . . hurt What did this to me? I had the foe at my mercy. ..."

"Aye, old friend, that you fairly did!" Gellor said with true heartiness as he recalled the moment of Tharizdun's overthrow there in demonium. "Then the Jackal Graz'zt struck you unawares with the Eye." With few words but stark ones, the troubador recounted the whole of what had happened after Gord had been attacked and made senseless by the force of the evil relic in the demonking's hand.

"We had no help? No succor came from the beings who sent us to the battle in the Abyss?"

Leda shook her silvery tresses, her face clearly depicting her anger. "No. We were deserted there, my love. We were left to die, but Gellor and I were only just able to get you here to the safety in shadows."

"It is a place which the archfiend will easily penetrate," Gord said softly with an edge of warning plain. "We must leave soon."

"As soon as you are strong enough."

"Leda, that might be too long unless some outside force is used. It is time to draw upon the rings again."

Gellor put his calloused hand on Gord's own. "Easy, comrade. The strength of the bands is sorely diminished. I fear there is not enough to bring you to full vigor and keep their magical capacity extant. Dare we drain them dry?"

"We must," Leda ordered.

"No," Gord countermanded. "I can lean upon the force of Courflamme to get by until the rings are recharged."

"And thereafter?" the bard asked with uncertainty.

The answer was simple and given without optimism. "We take whatever measures possible to avoid the last meeting with Tharizdun whilst seeking some last chance to win."

"You mean .. . ?"

Gord looked squarely at Leda, even though Gellor had spoken. "It was very nearly all I could manage to face the archfiend last time we fought Unless there is some miraculous intervention, I have no illusions regarding my fate — and so too yours. He will best me with ease, and then the multiverse will sink into unending night"

Thereafter none of them spoke much. They avoided even the phantom-folk who housed and assisted them, preferring not to have to discuss what loomed before them all. Even on the sphere of shadows the struggle was known, and it was no secret that the champion was in residence in the home of the village's elder. Before that word could spread far, Gord. Gellor, and Leda gathered their few belongings, strapped on their weapons, and made their way from the realm of shadows to another place.

The three were careful not to tell anyone their destination.

 

Chapter 23

FRUSTRATION WAS INADEQUATE TO DESCRIBE IT. He had been within a hair's breadth of concluding all. and then his foe had somehow managed to get away. Tharizdun grimaced at the very thought. He reached out and grabbed a nearby slave, a female from an ancient race that had devoted itself to his service before mankind had recorded history. But she made no protest, died without outcry or pleading, and this made the archfiend even more agitated. "Is there no satisfaction anywhere?" he shouted. Nearby daemon guards cringed, and that, at least, brought him some gratification.

Just as he had finished his play with the stupid hulk that had been styled Graz'zt and sought his main opponent, the press of his own stupid followers had so obscured the field that Tharizdun had found it necessary to search for several minutes to locate the Champion of Balance. When he had finally sighted the small man, lying senseless and helpless between his two comrades, the commotion caused by routing demon lords had demanded his attention. It took but a brief interval to clear the way, send his chief minions in pursuit of the rebels, and then Tharizdun had again been at liberty to deal finally with the pesty little fellow. Gord.

It had been erroneous to allow anything to interfere with expeditlous dispatch of his adversary. The archfiend mentally flogged himself for not acting, for allowing himself a moment to gloat. The little mortal had been so absolutely defenseless, so completely at his mercyi Then Tharizdun had detected the slow accumulation of a dweomer, a spell growing about the three humans lying prone there on the slowly convulsing surface of Ojukalazogadit. Immediately upon sensing that gathering magic, he had struck, but to no avail. Perhaps something had interfered, although Tharizdun couldn't conceive of anything powerful enough, or foolish enough, to do so. With sure gestures he had summoned a force to bind the three victims in toils of powerlessness and pain. The dweomer fell upon them, yet nothing was bound. The force of his calling merely served to tumble the gnawed skull of the boy from his adversary's pouch.

"
That, at least, was worthwhile
," Tharizdun said softly to himself. Immediately upon spying the bony thing with its shock of yellow hair, Tharizdun snatched it up and swallowed it on the spot. Consumed it that is, after having changed his head and jaw sufficiently. The boy's head had made a satisfying crunch as he slammed crocodile-huge jaws down upon it The petty spell, cast to keep it as it was. being thus broken, the usefulness of that act was immediately evident to him, too. Spells, powers and means to tap cosmic forces came back to him in a rush as the stuff that had been locked into the child by the Lords of Light spun free and lodged once again in his true consciousness.

"
He knew when he faces me that it was the only chance possible
," Tharizdun thought, recalling the moment. "
Gord was relying mainly on my lack of completeness. perhaps he was correct . . . but the demon's act was one of wicked sort, a fitting evil; and it is I alone who am Evil! Could there have been any other result than what eventuated? No, I do not think So
!"

To have gained the whole of himself again was worthwhile. To have lost his opportunity to slay Gord at a single, effortless stroke was infuriating. But there were consolations. He had completed his pack and now the three greatest hounds would hunt for and find his three little foes. Then Tharizdun would stride into the final fray without any doubt of its outcome. That was because only one thing could result. Now that he had his full faculties, he would triumph without fear of injury. The sword? That would be undone from a distance prior to actually facing Gord. Tharizdun had planned that contingency even when lacking a portion of his power. Very soon now there would be but one thorn left to extract....

"
Lord Entropy
!" the archfiend called telepathically with a force that sped through planes and spheres as a shout echoes along a deep canyon. "
Come and share my sport
!"

An indeterminate amount of time passed, then the deepening darkness indicated the coalescence of the entity. "You imagine the contest as mere sport now?" Entropy said in its slow, mechanical voice.

"
Is it anything other
?"

After the laughter from the being died away, Entropy spoke again. "Two near-fatal rounds indicate otherwise, Tharizdun. Even had you been the almost-victor in both."

That stung the haughty Master of Malevolence. "
You dare to speak to me thus? I'll ...
"

"I speak to any and all as I choose. You will do nothing; you cannot harm me, that's why." It wasn't entirely so, but the entity thought it best to always retain an edge by obfuscation and mental domination. There was yet much to accomplish, and the lord of Evil was a tool which had to be plied with force and much direction. "There are fundamental errors in your assumptions. It is wise of you to ask for my assistance."

BOOK: Dance of Demons
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