by Gary Gygax
"I accept!" The reply came clearly and from nearby. Vuron, clad in his silvered battle armor and bearing a long, crystalline spear, was suddenly almost face to face with his challenger. It was daring, for Demogorgon was almost twice as tall and easily four times more massive than the albino. It was the lance that Vuron carried that made him confident that he wasn't merely throwing away his life in accepting single combat with the demon king.
Wherever the crystalline point sunk home a netherbeing expired, but it was not Demogorgon who braved the peril. Even as the albino came forth to do battle, the towering prince of the Abyss was communicating with his chief ally, Infestix, at last. "The moment is passing!" the demon telepathically snarled. "Why aren't you here?"
"Hold fast, brave and clever ruler of demonkind," came the sarcastic reply from Infestix. "I am but seconds away."
"Then the day is ours!" Demogorgon sent back "for I have lured Vuron and his guards into the heart of my own formation, and the stupid fish-belly bears the artifact as he comes."
The boast did not disturb the master of daemons. He was quite familiar with demon claims. It was obvious to Infestix that Vuron was pressing the battle and Demogorgon was losing the fight. That was why Infestix was coming. The lord of the pits had kept close track of the whole confrontation. He had no intention of allowing the dual-headed menace to bungle things and lose the Theorpart that was Infestix's own. Neither did the greatest of daemons intend to allow Demogorgon actually to gain a second portion of the relic of deepest Evil. At a word, the Theorpart the ape-headed being held would desert the demon and send itself to Infestix's hands. A careful harmonic had been built within it to assure that. The portion of the artifact also had within itself the frequency of its fellow Theorpart, the one wielded by the albino demon lord. If the latter was joined to the former, then Infestix could indeed call both portions to himself. The wily emperor of the netherspheres had planned well. He could not compensate for the general incompetence of demons, though. "I am here!" The daemon appeared in his avatar, Nerull, as he spoke; and he stood beside Demogorgon as he did so.
"What?" Demogorgon was startled. Such transferences were not possible in the Abyssal planes, especially when great artifacts of utmost evil power were radiating disruptive dweomers in opposition. Of course, Infestix had used the very powers at play to do so. "How . . . ?" the demonking began, then switched his tack "Where are your troops? We need force to wrest the thing from the slug's grasp!"
"Never fear, Demogorgon," Nerull-Infestix said casually, watching the dusins die horribly, one after another, as Vuron came ever closer with his deadly, ensorcelled spear. "Help for you is at hand."
"I see none, you . . ."
"Faithful and brave ally," Nerull's rasping, wormchoked voice supplied in place of the invective the demon was undoubtedly about to use. "It is about to come with a bang, so to speak. It will surprise the enemy as much as you. , . ."
The "bang" came a second later. Demogorgon, even forewarned as he was, gave an involuntary start as what sounded like a tremendous thunderclap broke directly overhead and sent rolling echoes along the whole length of the plain. As the sound reverberated in the sky, there appeared the eight Diseased Ones fully arrayed for battle, and with these fearsome daemons were the whole of the plagante, NerullInfestix's horrid elite soldiers. The entire force numbered but a few hundred, but each of the plagante was equal to a greater demon, at least a match for any raloog, for example. Furthermore, the force appeared in the space just behind the position where Demogorgon stood, the place threatened by Vuron's advance. Without need of direction, the Diseased Ones rushed toward the advancing demons, and behind them stormed the plagante. Demogorgon bellowed in triumphant glee at the sight, and not far distant Mandrillagon too picked up the hooting as he observed the sudden turn of events.
The appearance of the daemon elite nearly cost Vuron his existence. The Diseased Ones were upon him as hounds hariy a wolf. The albino managed to ply his long spear just in time. One of the rotting fiends was too slow, or careless, or overconfident The translucent facet of the tlp took the daemon squarely in the throat, and the ranks of Infestix's own had a sudden vacancy. Immediately thereafter, however, the albino demon lord was backing away as quickly as he could while still protecting himself from attack The raloogs clustered near and saved him.
"Very superior, Leda! Fine work!" Vuron of course referred to the dark elven priestess's employment of the power of the Eye of Deception. The rutterkin were now indeed flame-demons for all intents and purposes. The foes thought them thus, and the cringing Jackals themselves seemed to perform as if they were fearless raloogs. "Can you keep it up?"
"Yes," Leda replied mentally, assurance and confidence strongly contained in the thought. "A powerful energy flows through me, and I can wield the instrument as long as needed."
"Do so," Vuron sent back laconically. "The enemy presses me, and to either hand our forces thrust ahead against them. I must not only extricate myself but save Graz'zt's army from certain destruction. The roll of the wheel has placed us beneath its weight." The ability of the drow to continue to use the energy in and channeled by the demoniacal artifact would normally have caused the albino to be wary. Under current circumstances Vuron was merely satisfied that Leda could perform the task without breaking. The Eye of Deception drained those who employed it, unless they somehow garnered power from some outside source while utilizing the thing.
Graz'zt's ploy against his enemies recently was the most clever use of the Eye that Vuron could think of, and the albino was himself quite wise and clever. That he had not envisioned such a trick made Vuron more steadfast in his loyalty to the ebon prince of his kind. Such thoughts as those, rather than questioning the frail female's prowess in so long being able to handle the object, filled that portion of Vuron's mind not occupied with matters at hand.
Attuning the Theorpart to serve as nothing more than a Jamming device and counterpower to that of Demogorgon's, the thin demon lord pried the lance he held to keep the press of the daemons from him. The milky crystal of the spear was filled with deadly energy, for the weapon was one of the sixty-six arms of power belonging to the Abyss. Within the plane's manifold spheres, the lance was potent enough to slay mighty foes with a single thrust. Even beyond, in other netherplanes or elsewhere, Vuron's long spear was a fell force, but in the Abyss itself, wielded by the one it was forged by and for, the thing was of utmost potency. Plagante fell one after another to its leafbladed point as the albino retreated toward his own position step by careful step. The remaining seven of the Diseased Ones were careful to avoid facing Vuron. That enabled him to make good his withdrawal.
The daemon elite did its best to prevent Vuron's escape, trying desperately to encircle him before the albino reached the safety of his lines. It was a close thing, but by dint of his own fighting ability and the work of Leda with the Eye, Vuron managed to slip between the threatening pincers of plagante and into the safety of the files between his defending ranks of demon soldiers.
Vastyi was driving deeply into the horde of Mandrillagon on the left, while Zabulon, a high rakshasa given charge of the right center, was likewise slicing deeply into the mixed force of demons, dreggals, and hordlings opposing his troops there. Immediately upon seeing that Vuron had escaped, Infestix must have brought Demogorgon's attention to the now vulnerable salients to either hand. It was all the albino could manage to effectuate his own retreat The ones on the flanks of his advance paid heavily as the infuriated daemons fell upon them.
So too the make-believe raloogs. Although they seemed to be flame-beings, and their attacks were as effective as those of real sort, the rutterkin were neither as staunch nor sturdy as true raloogs. The attacks of plagante and others cut them down to the last even as Vuron attained safety. Only the one leading the false raloogs, Guicar, survived. He was sorely wounded and near to expiring at that.
After sending urgent commands to Vastyi and Zabulon to pull back, Vuron turned his attention to the raloog. "You are rewarded, one
called Guicar," the albino general said hurriedly, touching the bat-faced monster with an alabaster-hued palm. A wave of demoniac energy leaped from Vuron's body into the torn form of the raloog. The creature's soundness was instantly restored, strength returned.
"Great Prince Vuron . . the raloog stammered in its growling basso.
"Only Graz'zt is great," Vuron rebuked. "I am merely his general and slave, as you are slave to me!" Then, as the flame-demon attempted to make amends, Vuron tapped him quickly with the Theorpart, silencing the raloog's near-pleadings. "No more. Gain power, grow strong, be hateful. In Graz'zt's name I so bestow the boon. Serve him well."
Then the albino was off to see to his army's safety. and to prepare for a general withdrawal. Vuron knew all too well that the position was now untenable. Demogorgon would be reinforced by fresh, contingents of his own subject demons, drafts of other troops from the spheres obeying Infestix's will. The enemy would receive a hundred thousand new soldiers in but a little space of time, while the best Vuron could hope lor was a dozen companies of minor demons scraped up by press gangs.
It was a tenuous position, but eventually Vuron managed to solidify a bow-shaped line and resist further advances by Demogorgon. The solid protodemon Palvlag, Jittering Nergel, and the eccentric Vastyi seemed to rise above themselves in the face of the impending disaster. Because they lent their own force to that of the albino, things did not collapse.
When the smogs rose and what passed for nighttime on the tier finally came, the enemy withdrew to take up a position facing Vuron's, and the great battle was concluded.
"It is another draw, Lord General," Guicar said with satisfaction. The raloog was now serving as adjutant to Vuron. The relic's power had made the flame-demon stronger than most of his kind, and the status that was thus accorded to Guicar by other raloogs fed yet more energy to him. Selection of officers was a simple matter in demon forces. The strongest, cleverest, slyest, most awful and malign naturally rose to command. Only nobles would not show respect for the raloog now. "Will you take the fight to them again tomorrow?"
"No, Lieutenant," Vuron said, wondering if all those who had observed the contest had so mistaken an impression of the results. "I will soon order the whole army to march away, toward the stronghold of our king. You will see to it that all troops under your command are silent, orderly, and swift when the time to leave this field comes."
"Ah. . . . Yes, Lord General Vuron," the raloog rumbled with an expression of delight playing across his bat-faced countenance. "You will again dupe those petty morsels into another trap!"
"Ahemmm. . . . Something like that. Lieutenant Guicar. Now see to your charges. There is much to do." The flame-demon stalked off, satisfied of the strength of his lord, the ultimate surety of victory evident in his mind. Vuron knew that would be conveyed to the others of his ilk, and to the thousands of lesser demons in the horde as well. That was all to the benefit. Now, what of the long term?
He would ask permission of Graz'zt to take up a new position that meshed with the whole of the ebon demonking's sphere of defense. That way they would be on interior lines. The two forces that sought to destroy Graz'zt's empire, take the Theorpart, and probably annihilate the great demon in the bargain, were uneasy allies at best. With a globe around his realm, the ability to shift troops, move rapidly, wield magicks in defense, they would be made less friendly to one another. Each of the foes wished the artifact for a different purpose. Demon could be set against daemon, cacodaemon against dreggal. Perhaps Vuron could even engineer a falling-out between Orcus and Iuz, for the ram-faced blob surely hated the cambion with almost the same fervor as Orcus despised Demogorgon. All that was for the future. Now it was necessary to gain a defensive position that would serve as a strong place, and step towards consolidation with the rest of his king's forces as well. It was time to bring Graz'zt a full report, so that the great ebon monarch could make intelligent decisions — and the ideas fed to him by his most loyal vassal, general, and servant must be in that category. In that regard Leda, too, must have knowledge and think correctly. Her influence added to his would make things almost a certainty.
"Leda, you must return to our liege and bring him my report."
"Of course, Vuron. When should I depart?"
"As soon as possible. Take the Eye of Deception with you. It assures your safe and swift passage. More importantly, our king will need it soon, I fear. When Iuz and his cohorts get word of what has happened here, they will surely begin attacking again."
The dark elf was puzzled by that statement. "Why, Vuron? We dealt the foes a cruel blow here, and our losses were paltry compared to those of Demogorgon's."
"The ape-heads will leak out misleading figures. Our casualties will be half a million rather than fifty thousand, and our reinforcements will be overstated by a like factor — regiments for companies, corps for brigades. Infestix too will assist in that for many reasons, not the least of which is his worm-fat pride. Two of his Diseased Ones were skewered by my lance, and he and his puppet demons lost a quarter of a million soldiers."
Leda understood. "If Iuz begins attacking, there will be no more reinforcements of any kind for this front then. Demogorgon will not have to face another situation like this again. Our force can be worn down, eroded, and finally beaten by sheer weight. . . ."
Vuron nodded and gave Leda a little bow. "Very astute, priestess — as should be for one favored by Graz'zt Explain all of that to him when he has received my report. I urge a contiguous line of defense, so that we will have interior lines. That way a reserve can be created as a central pool. Wherever the enemy strikes, the reserve can be moved to counter the threat. With but a quarter of the enemy's strength we can thus hold out for a nearly indefinite time."
"That seems reasonable, General," Leda agreed with hesitation, "but is there no way to assume a winning position?"
That brought the albino into a tense attitude, and his pale, red-pink eyes fixed with a lambent fire upon the small drow. "What is that you ask?" Leda squared her little shoulders and made a reply, but Vuron didn't pay attention. He was deep inside himself assessing his statements and hers too, all that had occurred.
"Never mind," he told Leda, more to silence her than for any other reason. He had articulated to her what he had kept inside himself as a secret that must never be uttered, especially to Graz'zt or any who spoke directly to the ebon monarch. For a long time now it had been all too apparent to Vuron that there was no real hope. The three portions of the ancient artifact the key to Tharizdun's prison, would never cease their active operation to unite. All were at work in the Abyss. Graz'zt held one, so the ones possessed by others — demon, daemon, even devil, no matter — would strive to be brought together by it. Fickleness would have no part in the eventuality. Demon alliances could break apart and re-form, invaders could be cut down, and still the relics would gravitate toward one another.
For now, two strove against one. Was there hope of gaining a second Theorpart? Could the balance be shifted in Graz'zt's favor then? Vuron was certain that both answers were no. "He is doomed by it now, and it is I who forged that doom," the pale demon whispered aloud.
"Pardon, my Lord? I didn't hear you."
"Nothing, Leda," Vuron said briskly. "I merely spoke thoughts aloud. . . . We sometimes place greater measures of independence upon ourselves than actually exist, you know. How greatly do we overestimate our own strength and meaning? Is it in the same magnitude? Greater by far, I think" Vuron gazed down at the perfect, sable-hued face of the elf. Its color was so like that of his king's. He had sought only to serve Graz'zt for eternity.. ..
"Time is fleeting. Lord Vuron," Leda finally said, growing uncomfortable under the demon's glassy stare.
"Time? So too power, renown, and all glory within the cosmos," the albino said with a snarl. "That is of no matter at this moment. As I said, we must have interior lines so that we can defend successfully until the unnatural alliances formed against us break from their own disparate natu
res. Soon enough new allies will come to serve Graz'zt, and the interloping dogs from Hades and the other netherspheres will be chased back to their kennels." Vuron hoped that those words would remain foremost in her mind when Leda reported to the demon king. "Here is my written account of the battle, my assessment of the situation, and plans for what we must do. It is a primitive way to communicate, but the enemy can't eavesdrop on such."
Leda took the thick box of leather and metal, a container covered with runes and sealed fast with black wax bearing Vuron's mark "I will give it directly into the hands of our liege immediately. Lord General."
"Guard it with your life! Don't hesitate to utilize the Eye to protect it."
With a bow, then a formal salute, the dark elf withdrew. "It should not be necessary, Vuron," Leda said just before she departed. "I intend to take the fastest route to the palace, so there will be few likely to be encountered along the way. Before the smogs rise here again, Graz'zt will have your intelligence in his hands."
Vuron nodded, and she left with quick steps. Only after Leda was gone did he think to ask her about how she felt. The albino recalled that when he looked at Leda's face, she had seemed fresh, lovely. Her countenance should have been drawn and haggard. The strain of using the Eye should have left its mark thus. Did she possess some witchery that enabled the drow priestess to resist even so great a thing as the Eye of Deception? If so, then it was time for him to get rid of her. After all, Vuron had decided to create Leda in counter to Eclavdra, for that one's influence had been too strong and too much directed toward her own glorification. Leda's twin would have not hesitated to lessen Graz'zt in order to make herself greater. Now there was a possibility that her clone had even greater spiritual strength and inner power than Eclavdra had possessed. Should that be true, and should Leda decide to employ her energy in a way that Vuron didn't direct, then she might actually displace him. That was something the demonlord hadn't considered since Leda came into being; Leda as such, rather than what she had been prior, a mere duplicate of Eclavdra. The original dark elven high priestess wouldn't have hesitated to work any mischief in order to gain advantage. Was Leda far from that?