The Second Generation

by Margaret Weis

  Then, “Paladine have mercy!” the young man cried in horror.

  “Too late, too late,” squeaked the voice. “Yes, I am Lord Gargath. The wretched Lord Gargath! Welcome to my home.”

  Seated upon the chair’s soft cushion, making a graceful—if despairing—gesture with its paw, was a hedgehog.

  “You may come closer,” said Lord Gargath, smoothing his whiskers with a trembling paw. “Just don’t step in the circle, as you said, young mage.”

  Keeping carefully outside the boundaries of the flickering oil lamps, the brothers and Dougan edged their way along the wall. Above them, the Graygem gleamed softly, its light growing ever brighter.

  “Lord Gargath,” Palin began hesitantly, approaching the hedgehog’s chair. Suddenly, he cried out in alarm and stumbled backward, bumping into Tanin.

  “Sturm, to my side!” Tanin shouted, pushing Palin behind him and raising the spear.

  The chair had vanished completely beneath the bulk of a gigantic black dragon! The creature stared at them with red, fiery eyes. Its great wings spanned the length of the wall. Its tail lashed the floor with a tremendous thud. When the dragon spoke, though, its voice held the same sorrow as had the hedgehog’s.

  “You’re frightened,” said the dragon wistfully. “Thank you for the compliment, but you needn’t be. By the time I could attack you, I’d probably be a mouse or a cockroach.

  “Ah, there! You see how it is,” continued Lord Gargath in the form of a lovely young maiden, who put her head in her hands and wept dismally. “I’m constantly changing, constantly shifting. I never know from one moment to the next,” snarled a ferocious minotaur, snorting in anger, “what I’m going to be.”

  “The Graygem has done this to you?”

  “Yessssss,” hissed a snake, coiling around upon itself on the cushion in agony. “Once I wasssss a wizzzzard like you, young one. Once I wassss … powerful and wealthy. This island and its people were mine,” continued a dapper young man, sitting in the chair, a cold drink in his hand. “Care for some? Tropical fruit punch. Not bad, I assure you. Where was I?”

  “The Graygem,” Palin ventured. His brothers could only stare in silence.

  “Ah, yes,” burbled a toad unhappily. “My great-great-great—well, you get the picture—grandfather followed the damn thing, centuries ago, in hopes of retrieving it. He did, for a time. But his power failed as he grew old and the Graygem escaped. I don’t know where it went, spreading chaos throughout the world. But I always knew that … someday … it would come within my grasp. And I’d be ready for it!” A rabbit, sitting up on its hind feet, clenched its paw with a stern look of resolve.

  “Long years I study,” said a gully dwarf, holding up a grubby hand. “Two years. I think two years.” The gully dwarf frowned. “I make pretty design on floor. I wait. Two years. Not more than two. Big rock come! I catch …

  “And I’d trapped the Graygem!” shrieked an old, wizened man with a wild cackle. “It couldn’t escape me! At last all the magic in the world would be mine, at my fingertips! And so it was, so it was,” squeaked a red-eyed rat, chewing nervously on its tail. “I could have anything I wanted. I demanded ten maidens— Well, I was lonely,” said a spider, curling its legs defensively. “You don’t get a chance to meet nice girls when you’re an evil mage, you know.”

  “And the Graygem took control of the women!” said Palin, growing dizzy again, watching the transformations of the wizard. “And used them against you.”

  “Yes,” whinnied a horse, pacing back and forth restlessly in front of the chair. “It educated them and gave them this palace. My palace! It gives them everything! They never have to work. Food appears when they’re hungry. Wine, whatever they want.… All they do is lounge around all day, reading elven poetry and arguing philosophy. God, I hate elven poetry!” groaned a middle-aged bald man. “I tried to talk to them, told them to make something of their lives! And what did they do? They shut me in here, with that!” He gestured helplessly at the stone.

  “But the women are getting restless,” Palin said, his thoughts suddenly falling into order.

  “One can only take so much elven poetry,” remarked a walrus, gloomily waving its flippers. “They want diversion—”

  “Men … and not their husbands. No, that wouldn’t suit the Graygem at all. It needs the warriors to guard the gem from the outside while the women guard it from inside. So, to keep the women happy, it brought—”

  “Us!” said Tanin, rounding upon the dwarf in fury.

  “Now, don’t be hasty,” Dougan said with a cunning grin. He glanced at Palin out of the corner of his eye. “You’re very clever, laddie. You take after your uncle, yes, you do. Who was it guarding itself from, if you’re so smart? What would it have to fear?”

  “The one person who’d been searching for it for thousands and thousands of years,” said Palin softly. Everything was suddenly very, very clear. “The one who made it and gambled it away. It has kept away from you, all these centuries, staying in one place until you got too close, then disappearing again. But now it is trapped by the wizard. No matter what it does, it can’t escape. So it set these guards around itself. But you knew the women were unhappy. You knew the Graygem had to allow them to have what they wanted—”

  “Good-looking men. They’d let no one else in the castle,” said Dougan, twirling his moustache. “And, if I do say so myself, we fill the bill,” he added proudly.

  “But who is he?” said Sturm, staring from Palin to the dwarf in confusion. “Not Dougan Redhammer, I gather—”

  “I know! I know!” shouted Lord Gargath, now a kender, who was jumping on the cushion of the chair. “Let me tell! Let me tell!” Leaping down, the kender ran over to embrace the dwarf.

  “Great Reorx! Keep away from me!” roared Dougan, clutching his empty money pouch.

  “You told!” The kender pouted.

  “My god!” whispered Tanin.

  “That about sums it up,” Palin remarked.

  Chapter Nine

  Wanna Bet?

  “Yes!” roared Dougan Redhammer in a thunderous voice. “I am Reorx, the Forger of the World, and I have come back to claim what is mine!”

  Suddenly aware of the presence of the god, aware, now, of the danger it was in, the Graygem flared with brilliant gray light. Trapped by the magic of the wizard’s symbol on the floor, it could not move, but it began to spin frantically, changing shape so fast that it was nothing more than a blur of motion to the eye.

  The aspect of the wizard changed too. Once again, the black dragon burst into being, its great body obliterating the chair, its vast wingspan filling the cone-shaped room.

  Palin glanced at it without interest, being much more absorbed in his own internal struggles. The Graygem was exerting all its energy, trying to protect itself. It was offering Palin anything, everything he wanted. Images flashed into his head. He saw himself as head of the Order of White Robes, he saw himself ruling the Conclave of Wizards. He was driving the evil dragons back into the Abyss! He was doing battle with the Dark Queen. All he had to do was kill the dwarf.…

  Kill a god? he asked in disbelief.

  I will grant you the power! the Graygem answered.

  Looking around, Palin saw Sturm’s body bathed in sweat, his eyes wild, his fists clenched. Even Tanin, so strong and unbending, was staring straight ahead, his skin pale, his lips tight, seeing some vision of glory visible only to himself.

  Dougan stood in the center of the pentagram, watching them, not saying a word.

  Palin held fast to the staff, nearly sobbing in his torment. Pressing his cheek against the cool wood, he heard words forming in his mind. All my life, I was my own person. The choices I made, I made of my own free will. I was never held in thrall by anyone or anything; not even the Queen of Darkness herself! I Bow to others in reverence and respect, but never in slavery, Nephew!

  Palin blinked, looking around as though awaking from a daze. He wasn’t conscious of having heard the words, b
ut they were in his heart, and he had the strength now to know their worth. No! he was able to tell the Graygem firmly, and it was then that he realized the black dragon behind him was undergoing similar torture.

  “But I don’t want to flay the skin from their bones!” the dragon whimpered. “Well, yes, I wouldn’t mind having my island back the way it was. And ten maidens who would act like maidens and not turn into poets.”

  Looking at the dragon in alarm, Palin saw its red eyes gleaming feverishly. Acid dripped from its forked tongue, burning holes in the polished floor; its claws glistened. Spreading its wings, the dragon lifted itself into the air.

  “Tanin! Sturm!” Palin cried, grasping hold of the nearest brother and shaking him. It was Tanin. Slowly the big man turned his eyes to his little brother, but there was no recognition in them.

  “Help me, wizard!” Tanin hissed at him. “Help me slay the dwarf! I’ll be the leader of armies.…”

  “Dougan!” Palin ran to the dwarf. “Do something!” the young mage shouted wildly, waving his arms at the dragon.

  “I am, laddie, I am,” said Dougan calmly, his eyes on the Graygem.

  Palin could see the black dragon’s eyes watching him hungrily. The black wings twitched.

  I’ll cast a sleep spell, Palin decided in desperation, reaching into his pouches for sand. But as he drew it forth a horrible realization came to him. His fingers went limp, the sand trickled from them, spilling down upon the floor.

  His magic was gone!

  “No, please, no!” Palin moaned, looking up at the Graygem, which appeared to sparkle with a chaotic malevolence.

  The wooden door to the room burst open, banging against the wall.

  “We have come as you commanded us, Graygem!” cried a voice.

  It was the voice of the dark-haired beauty. Behind her was the blonde, and behind them all the rest of the women, young and old alike. But gone were the diaphanous gowns and seductive smiles. The women were dressed in tiger skins. Feathers were tied in their hair, and they carried stone-tipped spears in their hands.

  And now Tanin’s voice rang out loudly as a trumpet call, “My troops! To my side! Rally round!” Raising his arm, he gave a battle cry and the women answered with a wild shout.

  “Bring me wine!” cried Sturm, executing an impromptu dance. “Let the revelry begin!”

  The blonde’s eyes were on him and they burned with lust. Unfortunately, it was lust of the wrong kind. She raised her spear, her eyes looking to her leader—Tanin—for the order to attack.

  “You promise me?” said the black dragon eagerly, its forked tongue flicking in and out of its dripping mouth. “No more gully dwarves? I didn’t mind the rest so much, but I won’t be changed into a gully dwarf again!”

  “The world’s gone mad!” Palin slumped back against the wall. He felt his strength and his sanity draining from him as the sand fell from his nerveless fingers. The chaos around him and the loss of his magic had overthrown his mind. He stared at the Staff of Magius and saw nothing more than a stick of wood, topped by a glistening bauble. He heard his brothers, one dispersing his troops for battle, the other calling for the pipers to strike up another tune. He heard the dragon’s great wings creak and the intake of breath that would be released in a stream of acid. Shutting his eyes, Palin cast the useless staff away from him and turned his face to the wall.

  “Halt!” thundered a voice. “Halt, I command you!”

  Chaos whirled wildly an instant longer, then it slowed and finally wound down until all was silence and stillness in the room where before had been a blur of noise and motion. Dougan stood on the pentagram in the center of the room, his black beard bristling in anger. Raising his arm, he cried out, “Reorx Drach Kalahzar!” and a gigantic warhammer materialized in the dwarf’s hand. The huge hammer glowed with a fierce red light that was reflected in Dougan’s dark, bright eyes.

  “Yes!” shouted the dwarf, staring up at the flaring Graygem. “I know your power! None better! After all, you are my creation! You can keep this chaos going eternally and you know that I cannot stop you. But you are trapped eternally yourself! You will never be free!”

  The Graygem’s light flickered an instant, as though considering Dougan’s words. Then it began to pulse, brighter than before, and Palin’s heart sank in despair.

  “Wait!” Dougan cried, raising one hand, the other grasping the handle of the burning red warhammer. “I say we leave everything up to chance. I offer you … a wager!”

  The Graygem appeared to consider; its light pulsed more slowly, thoughtfully.

  “A wager?” the women murmured, lowering their spears.

  “A wager,” said the dragon in pleased tones, settling back down to the floor once more.

  “A wager!” Palin muttered, wiping his sleeve across his sweating brow. “My god, that’s what started all this!”

  “We agree to it,” said the dark-haired beauty, striding forward, the shaft of her spear thumping against the floor as she walked. “What will be the stakes?”

  Dougan stroked his beard. “These young men,” he said finally, pointing at Tanin, Sturm, and Palin, “for yourselves. Freedom for the Graygem.”

  “What?” Both Tanin and Sturm came back to reality, staring around the room as though seeing it for the first time.

  “You can’t do this to us, dwarf!” Tanin shouted, lunging forward, but two of the larger and stronger women caught him and, with strength given them by the brightly burning Graygem, bound the struggling man’s arms behind him. Two more took care of Sturm. No one bothered with Palin.

  “If I lose the wager,” Dougan continued imperturbably, “these young men will stay with you as your slaves. I’ll break the magic spell that holds the gem trapped here and it will be free once more to roam the world. If I win, the Graygem is mine and these men will be released.”

  “We agree to the stakes,” said the dark-haired beauty, after a glance at the Graygem. “And now what is the wager?”

  Dougan appeared to consider, twirling his moustache round and round his finger. His gaze happened to rest on Palin, and he grinned. “That this young man”—he pointed at the mage—“will throw my hammer in the air and it will hang suspended, never falling to the floor.”

  Everyone stared at the dwarf in silence, considering. What was the angle? …

  Then, “No! Dougan!” Palin cried frantically, pushing himself away from the wall. One of the women shoved him back.

  “This young man?” The dark-haired beauty suddenly caught on. “But he is a magic-user—”

  “Only a very young one,” Dougan said hastily. “And he won’t use his magic, will you, Palin?” the dwarf asked, winking at the young mage when the women weren’t looking.

  “Dougan!” Palin wrenched himself free from the woman’s grasp and lurched across the floor, his knees so weak he could barely walk. “I can’t! My magic—”

  “Never say ‘can’t,’ laddie,” Dougan said severely. “Didn’t your uncle teach you anything?” Once again, he winked at Palin.

  It seemed the dark-haired beauty suddenly realized Palin’s weakness, for she glanced about at her fellows and smiled in pleased fashion. “We accept your wager,” she said.

  “Dougan!” Palin cried desperately, grabbing hold of the dwarf, who was looking up at him with a sly grin. “Dougan! I can’t use my magic! I don’t have any! The Graygem drained it!” he whispered urgently in the dwarf’s ear.

  Dougan’s face crumpled. “You don’t say now, laddie,” he muttered, glancing at the women and rubbing his bearded chin. “That’s a shame, now,” he said sadly, shaking his head. “A real shame. Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure!” Palin snapped.

  “Well, give it your best shot, lad!” the dwarf said, clapping Palin on the arm with his hand. “Here you go!” He thrust the handle of the warhammer into Palin’s hands. Feeling the unfamiliar touch, the hammer’s red glow faded, turning an ugly, leaden gray.

  Palin looked around helplessly a
t his brothers. Tanin regarded him gravely, his expression grim. Sturm averted his head, his big shoulders heaving in a sigh.

  Swallowing, licking his dry lips, Palin wrapped his hands around the handle of the hammer, uncertain, even, how to hold the weapon. He tried to lift it. A groan escaped his lips—a groan echoed by his brothers.

  “By Paladine!” Palin gasped. “I can barely move this thing, Dougan! How can I throw it?” Leaning closer, staring into the dwarf’s eyes, the young man murmured, “You’re a god.… I don’t suppose …”

  “Of course not, laddie!” The dwarf looked shocked. “It’s a matter of honor! You understand …”

  “Sure,” Palin grunted bitterly.

  “Look, lad,” Dougan said, positioning Palin’s hands. “It’s not that difficult. You just hold the hammer like this … there.… Now, you pick it up and began spinning round and round in a circle. Your momentum will help you lift the hammer and, when you’re going good, just give it a heave, like so. Nature will do the rest.”

  “Nature?” Palin appeared dubious.

  “Yes,” answered the dwarf gravely, smoothing his beard. “It’s called Centrifug’s Force or some such thing. The gnomes explained it to me.”

  “Great!” Palin muttered. “Gnomes!”

  Drawing a deep breath, the young man lifted the hammer. A groan of pain escaped his lips, sweat stood out on his forehead from the strain, and he heard several of the women giggle. Gritting his teeth, certain that he had ruptured something inside him, Palin began to turn in a circle, the hammer in his hands. He was startled to notice that Dougan was right. The momentum of his motion made the hammer seem lighter. He was able to lift it higher and higher. But the handle began to slip in his sweaty palms.…