Sea of Death (34 page)

Remaining undetected by the horses in the drow camp was a problem, but the wind enabled Gord-panther to come close without these animals panicking at the scent of a carnivore. If there was a wind shift, he would be in trouble, for the fright of the horses would alert the drow defenders. Otherwise, he felt confident of things. There was a possibility he would remain near the dell, poised to strike when the defenders were busy with the onslaught of marshmen. If he could manage to enter the camp then and carry off the Theorpart, nothing else was important. Let Eclavdra fight with the vile dwarf and the unspeakable Leda, all killing each other for all he cared – while the last portion of the artifact, the prize they fought for, was taken from under their very noses!

There were mailed men in the encampment, but Gord had no eyes for them. He counted three drow as well, but he gazed through his gray panther's orbs at only one of them. Only the edge in her voice and the mannerisms she displayed differentiated Eclavdra from Leda. Even those small things would not have been noticeable to Gord, had he not just come from watching her clone dealing with the marshfolk headmen. So this was the original, the terrible high priestess, the feared Eclavdra. She virtually radiated evilness but was gorgeous nonetheless, just as Leda was. But beauty meant nothing – if he could sink his fangs into her throat, and gut her with his hind claws, Gord would feel fierce joy… No! Those were animal thoughts, and he was here for more than such work. He listened and could hear Eclavdra issuing orders to the pair of small males who had evidently just come to her.

"Nighthand, return to the perimeter. See that these blind humans use what little of hearing and sight they possess to best advantage. We want no surprise inrush from front, flanks, or rear until I am ready."

"As you command, my lady," the cotton-topped male said. "I will take the two men still nearby out with me when I go."

"Do just so… now!"

The drow male flitted away like a wraith, and Eclavdra then addressed, herself to the second one. "You, my dear Wickert, are not so expendable as he," she told the fellow, with a small gesture to indicate clearly that she referred to the departed Night-hand. "While he serves to sound an alarm, you must hasten to restore what you can of your magical prowess. If the enemy should prevail, you and I, Wickert, must be ready to escape with the… object. The others do not matter, of course, if we have that safely away."

"Of course, high priestess, but are we not in grave danger of being ringed and unable to make good such an escape?"

"Do not be a fool! Would I waste My breath with words which I could not support with actions?" She stared hard as she spoke, and the male lowered his eyes quickly, not daring to answer. Satisfied, Eclavdra spoke on, hurriedly now. "Then do as I've ordered, but come to Me at the first sign of trouble. I withdraw to make certain that no man – or foul dwarf – can interpose between our path and this place. In but two days we will have companies of soldiers… Roast Obmi's shriveled gonads!"

Wickert was backing away as Eclavdra spoke. The dark elf had no desire to be around if Eclavdra worked herself into a fury. That was how it seemed to Gord as he watched the tableau unseen in the undergrowth and shadows in which he crouched. When the little dark elf male had gone to his own campsite twenty yards distant, Eclavdra chuckled softly to herself as she unknowingly walked toward the place Gord-panther was hidden. The beautiful drow moved to where a few small trees and shrubs screened her from view by others – except Gord. As she glided to her sanctuary, he watched and followed her cautiously, making sure that her elven senses did not pick up a trace of his nearness. As soon as he was in position to see whatever she did, Gord sank down to watch as Eclavdra went to work.

The high priestess was traveling light, or at least it seemed that way at first. But then her small backpack began to yield a surprising amount of gear as she busied herself pulling things from it. It was quickly evident to Gord that Eclavdra had some kind of dweomered bag. Clothing, weapons, and many other things came forth from inside the pack. Then the drow breathed an audible sigh as she reached inside once more and grasped something. "There you are, dear Theorpart, object of My success!" she murmured aloud as she drew forth an oblong case of metal.

Eclavdra placed the metal box on the ground before her and sat cross-legged before it. She then took a number of other objects she had drawn from her magically commodious pack and arrayed them about, surrounding herself and the rectangular coffer as she placed each little object down with care. There was some order to her activity, for the things each seemed to have a desired location. What she was setting down in the grass, though, and why she was doing all this Gord was unable to determine. A crooning, wavering sound began to issue from deep inside the drow. Eclavdra had completed her placement of the little things, and now she sat motionless and brought forth the soft, barely discernible sound. It made Gord drowsy, and he had to blink to keep his eyes focused. He tensed his cat muscles, flexed his claws, and forced his mind to remain alert. The high priestess began faint body movements then, little swayings and noddings of her head. At that, Gord looked quickly down, concentrating on the metal box. It had a grayish color in the moonlight, but so did everything else under this light that did not give off its own illumination. Could it be copper? No, it was too light a hue. Silver? No, too dark. Tin? Eclavdra had seemed to move it more carefully than a chest of tin would be handled. Brass? Possibly, or maybe gold…

His feline hearing noted a change in the sound coming from Eclavdra even as he kept his eyes and thoughts elsewhere. Now the drow high priestess had ceased making the noise that had almost mesmerized Gord and was whisper-singing some weird chant, a paean of a ghastly sort that made Gord-panther's flesh crawl. He thought the dark elf was now in the process of weaving some evil spell, and he dared not move, for that would surely alert Eclavdra to his presence. Why, Gord was not sure, but every one of his instincts, human and feline, screamed to him to remain undetected.

Little points of light seemed to appear in the air, dancing like minute fireflies above the strange ring of objects the high priestess had so carefully placed. Then the metal coffer began to glow with a dim, purplish luminosity. The faint chanting became more rapid but no louder, and then the movements of Eclavdra's body and arms became faster and more contorted, seemingly defying human, or elven, physiology.

Then suddenly the ritual ceased. Eclavdra halted all movement, and only a thin, sweet note came from her perfect throat. When Gord thought the note could be held no longer, he saw the dark elven cleric move slowly, so slowly, reaching toward the glowing box, the note incredibly sustained all the while. As her hands neared the coffer, the purple hue that it gave off changed, deepened, and became totally black.

Now every hair on Gord's sleek, muscular body was standing straight up. He knew that at any instant his cat-part would break through, and a growl of rage and fear would come from him at the same instant. An all-pervasive horror enveloped him. Awful, malign horror was about to be exposed, evil was about to come pouring out, for Eclavdra was intent upon opening the coffer and releasing that which she had summoned.

Inch by careful inch, Gord moved his cat body back, his panther-nerves screaming to stop delaying and bound away as fast as his four strong legs would carry him. Fighting for control, the human part of his mind forced his muscles to obey. As the drow's hands touched the metal chest, he was moving with utmost care, fully in control of himself both as man and cat. Then Eclavdra's extended hands did something, and the box came open, its lid flying back of its own volition – or due to some force from within the container.

When the scratchy, metallic sound of the lid's opening came to his ears, Gord could retain control of his cat-body no longer. Feline instincts took over, and his panther body obeyed them. With a spring and a contortion in mid-air, Gord-panther was facing the opposite direction from the terrible scene and racing away at full speed.

The human portion of his mind realized that there was obviously no chance to steal the Final Key from the wicked elf now. His cat brain did not care about such a consideration, simply wishing to put as much distance between itself and Eclavdra as it could. Gord streaked through the night in ebony bounds, making away from the dell faster than any normal leopard could have run.

Then, in mid-stride when he was quite some distance away from Eclavdra, something stopped him. A wave of purest evil swept over Gord-panther, traveling as fast as thought – far, far more quickly than even he could run. He collapsed and rolled, his momentum taking him onward as his muscles contracted in agony at the impact of the wave. Then his body stopped rolling, shuddered, and twitched. As Gord lost consciousness, he felt himself changing, altering form again, but this time painfully. He was returning once more to his man-shape, and he had no control. Then blackness as deep as that of the Theorpart overcame him, and the young adventurer could think no more.

"What are you blathering of, drow bitch?"

"Stop being an asshole for once, you dwarven dunderhead, and try to think rationally," Leda told him acidly. "It just could be that I have a real brain inside my skull."

The dwarf started to retort, then made a face and said only, "All right, I'll play along. What are you saying I should magically sense?"

"I don't think it's anything magical at all, you shit-head! Something is happening over there in Eclavdra's camp. Can't you just feel that she's up to something?"

"No."

"Well, I can! Take my word for it and be prepared – alert the marshmen if you have a mind to. She's working up something very, very bad and powerful. If we don't do something quickly to counter her, you can kiss your precious ass goodbye."

That made Obmi uneasy. He had scant respect for females, less for elven females, and least of all for dark elven bitches. Still, this Leda seemed above her type, and she was somehow attuned to the machinations of Eclavdra. With those thoughts in mind, Obmi decided to violate his strict orders and seek guidance from the one whose cause he championed. If his adversary dared to break the pact, then why should he not do the same?

"I call upon the power of Zuggtmoy," the dwarf intoned softly. When nothing happened after a few heartbeats, he repeated the call a second time, this time more loudly and at more length, adding the name of her kin: "I, Obmi, champion of Queen Zuggtmoy, beseech her in the name of Szhublox to come to My aid!" His gut felt awful after he spoke, but no tangible manifestation of the demoness appeared.

"Let me try," Leda suggested.

Groaning, Obmi muttered, "Go ahead, but once only. As soon as these pangs reside, I shall bring the Mighty Queen of the- "

"Right. Just shut up a moment and give me one try, then." The dwarf clamped his teeth shut with a snap, and the dark elf began her conjuration. "I call upon the Power of the Abyss, on its Six Hundred and Sixty-Six Planes and Forbidden Names. Oh, Zuggtmoy, Queen of Fungi, She of Chaos, Zuggtmoy, whose very name strikes terror into the hearts of all, Your humble servants urge-"

An ear-splitting screech cut through the air. Leda halted her incantation, but even if she had not, the shrill noise would have drowned it out, to all listeners on this plane… and perhaps other planes as well. Then the atmosphere around Obmi and Leda began to grow thick, and they became aware of a foul stench emanating from some other place.

"Bah!" growled Obmi when the screech subsided. "My call got no results, but yours was worse. What have you wrought, black bitch?"

"Shut your mouth and gather your senses, if that is possible," Leda shot back at him. "The uproar comes from Eclavdra's camp, you fool. She is up to something big, and you had better gather your puny forces and attack before things get any worse."

The screech, originating from a point in the air only feet away from where Eclavdra sat, would have deafened any normal being from that distance. And the awful odor that accompanied the sound would have sickened anyone else who got the full force of it… but Eclavdra was no ordinary being. She sat quietly, watching as the events she had set in motion unfolded.

As the shrill sound dissipated, it was replaced by a tearing noise. Monstrous, taloned hands appeared In mid-air a few feet off the ground, their fingers gripping something unseen as if by the edges. The ripping sound continued, and more of the creature owning the disembodied, clawed hands became clearly visible through a rent, literally a tear in the fabric of space, plainly discernible in the air.

A hideous, evil head thrust itself through the unnatural opening, and then a massive arm poked out, its huge hand reaching toward the drow as the face leered and said, "Wanna fool around?" The fiend's exact intentions were unclear, perhaps even to itself. Eclavdra merely rested her left hand on the brass box and pointed her right index finger. A purple-black spark jumped from the outstretched digit to the creature's forehead, and it stopped grinning and howled.

"Little lizard-daemon! Listen carefully, or I shall allow the force to wholly devour you," Eclavdra said in a low, threatening voice. "Leave the gate I have readied and get your ilk together. You know by what power I summon you all, so do not delay an instant longer."

The daemon disappeared, leaving the strange hole in the air empty. The dark elven priestess sang another brief, hideous chant, and something else appeared in the opening – another daemon, this one having five arms and an insectlike head. The creature clicked its mandibles hungrily at the sight of her, and Eclavdra treated this creature to a taste of the fell power drawn from the Theorpart, just as she had done with the previous one. The insect-daemon then received its instructions and disappeared. After a few minutes, daemons began coming through the unusual gate in a steady flow.

Without saying a word, both types of daemons knew by what they had been summoned and what they were to do. The giant-sized lizard-daemons ambled off toward the center of the enemy line, while the three-legged insect-daemons trooped toward either side. Eclavdra meant to encircle and crush her attackers with an overwhelming force of daemons – monsters from Hades conjured through the power of the Theorpart. Despite her knowledge that she was acting in a fashion that would attract all powers watching for even minor occurrences of such sort, the drow high priestess drew upon the awful nature of the Final Key to wreak havoc on those who dared to challenge her.

Obmi, meanwhile, had proceeded with his assault – too late. The hapless marshmen, expecting to encounter a force many times smaller in number than they were, instead found themselves charging into the arms of the waiting daemons.

Yells and screams of terror and pain from the marshmen alerted the dwarf, who lurked far to the rear of the battleground, and in moments he was aware of the general circumstances. He did not know what his mercenary force had encountered, but clearly it was more formidable than a small group of humans and a couple of drow spell-users. Leda had darted off in the confusion, and was nowhere to be found. The dwarf considered beseeching his mistress for aid once again, but did not know if the call would be answered – and besides, he didn't have the time to make another attempt. Growling curses under his breath, Obmi did the only thing he could.

The broad-shouldered dwarf brought forth a tiny bronze figurine that Zuggtmoy had secretly given him, with instructions to employ it only if he found himself alone and threatened by ultimate failure. With a powerful twist, he snapped the head off the figure's body. Although Obmi did not know this at the time, the statuette was formed in the likeness of the demon Uliel, one of the most powerful who served Zuggtmoy. With the snapping of the old bronze, flames shot forth from the body of the little idol, and the metal grew scorchingly hot. The dwarf uttered a sharp sound of pain and flung the thing a few feet away from him. As the statuette was consumed, Uliel took shape in the air above, a solid form composed of blackest shadow and licking fingers of flame.

The huge demon glared at Obmi only briefly, then turned so as to magically perceive what was happening on the battleground beyond. "You have not erred, dwarf!" the demon said in a voice that made the very air vibrate. The shadows deepened around the creature, and the flames grew bigger and brighter. A booming sound echoed in the air above the demon's head, and in the next instant an other monster from the Abyss was beside Uliel. "Boar-demon," the bigger demon grated to the lesser one, "in the name of She you serve, summon the thralls of our Queen!"

The smaller demon appeared to be a mixture of the worst features of a ravening boar, a carnivorous gorilla, and a human. It grunted, a snarling yet obedient sound, and squealing, gibbering notes issued from the air in front of its huge chest. Then a popping sound issued forth, and on the ground before the boar-ape-human demon was a batrachian thing, its gaping mouth filled with a hundred needlelike teeth. Toad-demon, bring those of your sort who serve you!" the boar-demon commanded.

Croaking in reply, the ugly beast hunkered down on its bent legs and began to make sounds such as a bullfrog of monstrous sort might give off during spring courtship. The greatest of the three demons present, Uliel, nodded his homed head, a head that was above that of the ten-foot-high boar-demon beside him. "You obey and live! See that the toad-demons propagate thus until I say otherwise. Send them forth immediately upon their bringing forth a companion of theirs – they are needed to contend with the spawn of Hades who swarm toward us now!" With that, the demon of flame and shadow stalked toward the daemons, and the first toad-demon hopped and croaked at his heels as he went, for already that creature had brought forth another, and the second was summoning a third.

Soon demons fought with daemons, while the few remaining men sought to hide, trembling in fear at the struggle that was now being waged in the remote grassland beside the Ocher River.

Meanwhile, Leda had not been idle. When the dwarf rushed off at her urging to spur the marsh-men to action, she had held back and then employed her ring to invisibly slip away from him. Her first invocation had gone unfinished and thus unfulfilled, but Leda still had hope that she could successfully call upon assistance from beyond – if she could get to a secluded place and begin the process anew, this time carrying it to completion.

When she came upon a small clearing from which the ongoing struggle could be heard but not seen, Leda knelt and began to utter as elaborate a plea as she could formulate. She actually fell into a trance-like state while continuing to call for aid – and finally, after an indeterminate amount of time had passed, she got what she was asking for. Or, perhaps the maelstrom of daemons and demons being brought to the Material Plane by other forces was the trigger; for whatever reason, the Queen of Demons finally brought her attention to the place where Leda invoked her. In the first instant that her form appeared, Zuggtmoy was livid.

"How dare you, bitch of Graz'zt…" she said in her growling, burbling tone – and then Zuggtmoy paused, for her assessment of Leda made her aware of the fact that this was not Eclavdra herself, but a clone-not-clone of the drow who served the six-fingered lord. In the next instant as Leda came back to full awareness, Zuggtmoy transformed herself from human form to a towering, fungoid thing with vegetable eyes that saw in all directions around the copse.

This is madness! We are undone!" the Queen of Fungi said in her strange, hollow tone in a voice that seemed to issue from inside a rotten log and sent a pungent odor of mold and decay wafting toward the little dark elf cowering nearby. Leda could not know exactly what caused the demoness to exclaim so, but the problem was evident to her. Zuggtmoy and all the other demons involved in the contest had wanted total and complete secrecy. Now, all of the beings in the multiverse who sought the last portion of the Artifact of Evil were alerted to its location and were certain to react swiftly and with all their might.

This supposition on Leda's part was swiftly borne out. A wave of hordlings came into the open, and with them were winged devils. A pack of toad-demons and a flock of vulture-demons flying above were instantly engaged with the servants of the Nine Hells in a life-and-death fight. To this combat streamed the soldiers of Law and the equally weird warriors of Chaos, while around and above them swirled shining, powerful presences that exuded an aura of Good – evidence that those of the Upper Planes were now also alerted to the goings-on.

Leda, once she realized that Zuggtmoy was paying no attention to her, gained her feet and ran off in a panic. She still cared about destroying Eclavdra, but right now the most important thing was to find a place of refuge, if any such existed in the midst of this cataclysm. Shortly thereafter Zuggtmoy vanished, but from where she had been came a tide of poisonous fungi, moving, growing, a deadly carpet that rolled toward the dell wherein the Theorpart rested.

More and more beings from all planes of the multiverse were appearing and joining in the fight. There could be no doubt that unless something happened soon, the very fabric of the material world would be unable to support this collection, and not even the deities who commanded these forces and brought them forth could be sure of controlling what would occur then. Perhaps all of the stuff that made the whole of the multiverse would be pulled into the maelstrom that this concentration of creatures and powers would soon bring about, and the parts of the terrible artifact would conjoin willy-nilly then. If deities and devils agonized over such an occurrence, they were not deterred from their purposes, either. For one reason or another, all of those who fought and directed the fight desired more than anything to possess the Final Key. So the air was alive with fighting creatures, and the ground beneath likewise swarmed with combatants, while the fabric of all that existed strained and trembled at what was occurring.