Dance of Demons

by Gary Gygax

  Nisroch's eyes burned with green fire as he hesitated, glaring at the three interlopers. The demon was obviously shamed and humiliated. The nine great Chevaliers of the Abat-dolor court likewise hesitated, knotting closely behind the herald. Then the warriors saw their princess's own anger. It was directed at them. Nisroch dropped his gaze, bowed, and turned his mount. For a minute, normal speech was impossible over the thunder of the hippokeres' iron hooves as their riders spurred them back to the gateway.

  "Very wise, ruler of the Abat-dolor," Gord said when the din had subsided. He had not taken his own eyes from the tall demoness. "One thing more, though, Princess Elazalag. Please don't try to spray us with discharges of negativity from your black tubes surrounding us. It won't work, and I would then have to exact revenge."

  "Just who and what are you?" the six-fingered demoness asked. "That you know the nature of our defenses is unremarkable. Graz'zt's little drow has certainty informed you of such. But you are not right, somehow — neither man nor demon, despite the aura of dark chaos which enwraps you."

  "Does it really matter who I am. If I can aid the Abat-dolor in retaining their land and freedom and lives?" Gord said. He expected no answer, and the young champion of Balance waited, for none. "I care nothing for you and your kind, of course. The enemy who threatens you happens to be my foe, too. I plan to destroy that enemy's power, and in the process your precious iyondagur will be cleansed of invaders. You will continue to rule, and my companions and I will be gone."

  "Run back to the dungheap's stronghold, perhaps? Or do you seek to cozen me into some trap?" Elazalag shot back "It was just brought to my attention that my realm has been invaded. You three, then, must either be agents of Graz'zt or of the invaders. Either case is sufficient to condemn you to whatever slow death I can devise!"

  "Please come here, Lady Leda," Gord said with a clear voice, still keeping his eyes fixed on the demoness. The dark elf stepped beside him hesitantly. "Thank you," Gord said, turning and flashing a warm smile at Leda. "Please be so kind as to display to the princess of the Abat-dolor what it is you hold ready."

  For a moment Leda wanted to run away. To do that she would have to use the Eye first, however. Play its forces upon Gord and the rotten Elazalag. then utilize its power to move from the courtyard back to the Soulless Sounding. This object was Graz'zt's by all rights, and neither Gord nor the demon princess could claim otherwise. While such thoughts flashed through her mind, Leda stepped another pace forward, so that she stood just slightly ahead of the gray-eyed man clad in shadow armor and elfin mail.

  As she drew the Eye of Deception from its enchanted covering, dark energies seemed to play back and forth between the smoke-colored sphere and the pommel of Courflamme, sheathed at Gord's left hip and near to Leda. Ignoring her own thoughts and desires, heedless of the forces that darted round, the drow priestess lifted the sphere with her right hand. presenting its pupil-like spot to Elazalag, allowing the demoness ruler of the Abat-dolor to view the fell thing from the most undesirable perspective — its business end, as it were. Then Leda spoke without direction from Gord or permission from this royal demoness.

  "This, Elazalag of the Abat-dolor, Is just what it seems. I hold the Eye of Deception."

  The demon princess's face paled to ashen hue upon seeing the glowing pupil of the thing. Elazalag knew all too well what terrible powers the wielder of the device could loose. "You may encase it again . . . Lady Eclavdra." The noble Abat-dolor managed to remain outwardly calm despite the very real threat — which she read in the draw's eyes, not in the greatest artifact of demon-power known to the Abyss. "Has your master sent you here to slay me? Or to serve against the incursions of my foes — and his?"

  It was Gord who interjected before Leda could make any reply. "The lady does not serve Graz'zt any longer. Neither do I or my other companion, of course. We three are as one in serving a greater master. I tell you freely and openly, that cause is one which you and all of your demonfolk will gladly embrace, too."

  "Really?" Elazalag sneered, her beautiful features distorting into true demoniacal form as she did so. The transformation was brief, but it helped remind Gord of what he faced. "Now I know you for a double liar, mankin. Despite the wildness of evils which enwraps you, I deem you an agent of the Hells and a friend of daemons!"

  "And if you receive from me the Eye of Deception?"

  Leda gasped aloud at Gord's words. Never would she permit this demoness to hold the Eye — not even if her love commanded it! As she was about to renounce such a thing he touched her shoulder, lightly, with a loving caress as would a man giving comfort to his own mate. Leda found herself unable to voice a protest, and then the wash of tenderness from Gord's touch flowed down her body, and for a moment she forgot the thought of it.

  Elazalag's face stiffened into an unreadable mask. She stretched forth her hand from her platform. "Give me the thing, and then I will consider your words," she said without inflection.

  "Not quite so easily or quickly," Gord countered. "There is only scant time for discourse, but I fear we must spend precious minutes doing so, you and I. It would be appropriate to invite us all into your castle immediately, so that we can arrange the details of the bargain."

  "Bargain?"

  "Yes. A bargain. Princess Elazalag. You and your Abat-dolor will accompany the three of us against the invaders. I will defeat their chief lords, strip them of their power. Thereafter I will reward you for your assistance in the matter with the gift of the Eye of Deception." As he told that to the tall demoness, Gord had shifted his position slightly, unnoticeably. At the last word he suddenly drew forth Courflamme. It was a motion too fast for even a demon's eye to follow. To the onlooking guards and soldiers it appeared only as if he drew and held the weapon forth before him as if in offering it to their ruler. In actuality, Gord touched Elazalag's open hand with the flat of Courflamme's blade in the process.

  The contact with the strange blade of mixed crystal and jet sent a jolt into the demon princess's brain. freezing her for a split-second, then warming her much as Gord's touch had quelled the rebellion within Leda. It also brought Elazalag knowledge. Before her was one now eternal, a warrior once human, now one who fought against whatever forces might upset the balance of the multiverse. Implacable foe, unyielding Judge, indomitable in pursuit of his cause. All were true, and true as well were his words regarding the bargain. He cared naught for the Eye of Deception, not if his first opponents — and the deadly enemies of her and her demonfolk — were dealt with as he would have them done.

  The sword, his weapon, was an instrument of power whose potential far outweighed the force of the Abyssal artifact he offered. For a moment Elazalag considered gaining the blade as well, then dismissed the idea. One touch told her that it was not a weapon that any demon could trust. The thing would turn, drink her energy, and serve only Balance. "Come into my chariot," the demoness said with a gesture indicating all three. "You are my guests for a brief stay — very brief! My council will already be there when we arrive."

  A handful of male and female Abat-dolor were awaiting them in a large, high-vaulted chamber, just as Elazalag had stated. Nisroch was there, for he was both herald and thegn of the demon clans. Only three of the other lords of the Abat-dolor's nine clans were there, along with one lady chieftainess and a female named Mycortte, both chamberlain and vice-princess, it seemed, the one who ruled in Elazalag's name when the leader of the iyondagur's nine regions was away. Gord was surprised at such trust, but it was nothing he tarried upon. Too many other matters pressed. He had to listen to a series of tirades against all the rest of the netherworld, demonkind, and Graz'zt. The last was the principal target the great demonking whose realm had been vast, but to whom these folk had never bowed. Yes, he was of their race, but. . .

  Once, it seemed, the lands held by the Abat-dolor had included both iyondagur and Mezzafgraduun, now the demesne of Graz'zt; thus, the contiguity between the seemingly widely separated three hundred and ninety-nint
h tier and the great three hundred and sixty-sixth stratum. The joint realm was ruled by Graz'zt and Elazalag, his consort. Thirteen clans of the Abat-dolor dwelled on the two layers of the diverse realm, and many other sorts of demonkind were subject to the two rulers.

  Then somehow the ancient of witches, Iggwilv, entered the Abyss, came to Graz'zt in his palace on Mezzafgraduun, and soon won favor with the demonking. By wiles and deceit Iggwilv separated him from Elazalag, the clans of Abat-dolor from their union. The ambitions of the ebon demonking and his attitudes alienated all but four of the clans from him, but there were many ambitious nobles of other races flocking around Graz'zt and the powerful witch; many sorts of lesser demon races to subjugate, enlist, enslave.

  Soon Graz'zt was waging a great battle against the mightiest of the other demonkings, expanding his lands and dreaming of a vast empire. Iggwilv too had great aspirations, and the witch duped Graz'zt into a position which cost the demon much.

  In the course of all that, a time covering a score or more decades, the enmity and dispute between Elazalag and the majority of the Abat-dolor versus Graz'zt and his empire of mongrel sort deepened and became one of open hostility. Upon the humiliation of Graz'zt and his forced confinement to his own realm in the Abyss, Elazalag had attempted to mend the rift; she claimed before Gord and his two companions that she had been willing to sacrifice her personal feelings for the betterment of the Abat-dolor. The young champion doubted that, thinking that the demoness thought to use the situation to increase her own stature while Graz'zt was down. He said nothing, of course.

  Vuron was named as a culprit, too, by the assembled demons who ruled iyondagur. His machinations, personal ambitions, and hatred for Elazalag kept Graz'zt from reuniting the clans and territories of the Abat-dolor. Because Leda (whom these demons called Eclavdra because they knew nothing of the battle between the drow and her clone, and of the defeat of Eclavdra by the twin, Leda) was a confidant and advisor of the ebon demonking, and because Vuron's favor of her was well known by them, the princess demanded that Leda be held as hostage until the Eye of Deception was in Elazalag's hands.

  "You are as false as any of your ilk" Gord answered with a ring of steel in his voice after that demand. "Your lie, your plan too, are as open to me as a sheet of parchment laid on this table before me." Elazalag snapped her mind closed at that, but Gord used his own mental force to prize open the demoness's thought barriers, trampling them down and stalking where he would in her brain. "You see? No thought of yours, no hidden motive of any of you, is not subject to my scrutiny and understanding."

  Leda couldn't restrain herself upon hearing that. "What did the vile whore intend for me, Gord?"

  "The great and noble princess of the Abat-dolor would confine you, gain the Eye, and then force Graz'zt here to her. To regain any of the evil artifact's powers again, Elazalag planned to have him torture you to death as slowly as possible."

  "That.. . that-"

  "No matter. Her plans are changed. What was considered is of no import now," Gord told the dark elf firmly. "Now, Princess, I will tell you what you and your subjects must do in order to gain the Eye of Deception. Remember, I care nothing about Graz'zt, your disputes, or the Abat-dolor. If I fall, your foes will have the Eye and the sword I bear . , . plus the relic they plan to destroy all of you with, unless you become their slaves forever. If I succeed, your domain is again firmly in your grasp, and one way or another Graz'zt will be stripped of his relic soon thereafter, too. Then, noble Elazalag, the fate of him and the whole of your kind will rest squarely with you."

  "I attend your words with utmost diligence, and so do all my faithful vassals," the demoness added, then swept a meaningful glare over those of her subjects who were present.

  Gord stated exactly what was to be done. The foes here were relatively few in number, relying on the power of the Theorpart they bore to win through. No more than about one hundred thousand demons and triple that number of other netherbeings now tramped across the lands of iyondagur.

  "The bulk of the horde which now threatens your realm, Elazalag, Is composed of daemons and cacodaemons, and all the force is led by their tyrant,

  Infestix."

  "Just how do you happen to know all this?" The demand was boomed by Nisroch.

  That was something Leda was wondering as well. Subjective time in passage through the Soulless Sounding was distorted, so that what seemed an hour or two was a full day. That meant that she had been away from Vuron and the army he commanded for no more than two or three days, measured by Oerth standards. And Gord had been in the Sounding at the same time — so how could he know what had transpired during that time?

  As the demon princess and all of her Abat-dolor council peered intently at the young champion, awaiting his response to the query, Leda interjected, "It is passing strange, Gord, that so much is known to you. . . ." The sudden shift in position of Elazalag, the electric shock that seemed to be transmitted to the demons, brought a flush to the dark elven priestess. Immediately, she knew she should not have used Gord's name. "Oh!" Leda exclaimed. "I didn't mean to . . ." And then she fell silent, for any further words would simply compound her error.

  "It is nothing," Gord said, not bothering to attempt a lengthy discussion of the matter. "My identity is no great secret, and soon enough it will be known far and wide throughout the sphere anyway."

  "The slayer of demons!" hissed Mycortte. "He is in our hands!"

  "Really?" The question came from Elazalag, and it brimmed with ironic mockery. Nisroch the herald bellowed laughter, and its tone underscored his princess's derision. "Cease!" Elazalag commanded. The demons fell silent.

  "So, Gord of Cats, Player in Shadows, Elect of Balance — now I begin to understand. Even here in these backwaters of the Abyss we have heard of you and know of your purpose. Marked, you are, by every being in all the netherspheres."

  "Not by demonkind."

  "Not especially, no. None of the dwellers here care to be yoked by the shackled one . . . yet each lord here lusts after the powers of the Theorparts. I would have one — all!"

  Gord shook his head. "Would you, demoness? Then would you be marked for turmoil and destruction far more than I. Graz'zt has one and his whole realm is under siege, its king noar to losing all. Demogorgon held one for a brief time, and then the daemon master he must now serve took it. Iuz thinks he possesses a Theorpart — and so do Iggwilv, Zuggtmoy, and her brother Szhublox. Think on that," and Gord paused a moment to allow his words to sink in, be assessed by Elazalag. "Do you know I held one once and gave it over?"

  "Yes," the demoness responded with a harsh hiss. "I know Vuron's part in that — and hers, too!" she spat, glaring at Leda.

  "Blame me, or better still place no blame at all. That was written, I think long before any of us knew. Because I am now who I am, much is known to me that is hidden from you. Everything that concerns the three parts of the elder artifact, the lives and actions of those who would wield them. Is apparent to my mind."

  "How can that be?" Nisroch demanded. The big demon was incredulous.

  "How is it that I am known? Your fellow Abat-dolor there, Mycortte, recognized who I am when she heard my name, calling me by the epithet the slayer of demons'. True, I have ended the existence of many from the Abyss; but I have no particular vendetta against your sort. Most of demonkind merely cries out to be destroyed." His tone was so hard, the words so laden with menace, that all save the princess herself recoiled from the small man. Nisroch pulled back with a growl. Even Elazalag straightened in her big chair.

  "I am known because there is a rede which says that when the Ultimate Darkness threatens, one will be there to fight against it. Now, because I have risen to become that champion, all who seek to bring the curse upon the multiverse search for me. Scrying and spell, crystal-gazing and slinking spy, augury and divination are aimed toward me. Small and great are the wards which are there to prevent that, yet these protections have been inadequate. That is no matter. What must be d
one will be done, and 1 think none can stop me until Tharizdun stands before me." As he said that, the atmosphere in the demon princess's chamber seemed to darken, become palpably threatening. Gord ignored it and went on.

  "I am no judge of demonkind, yet it seems that as a race the Abat-dolor are more civilized, more like humankind, perhaps — and I mean that as no insult or belittlement," the young thief added with a small chuckle. That act seemed to break the tension among the demons, and a few actually laughed. "If united, your kind would be a true force in this sphere, and perhaps there have been those who labored clandestinely to prevent such a thing happening. I don't know. My mental foreknowledge and prescience tells me this: Infestix brings his Theorpart here to iyondagur in a decisive thrust against Graz'zt. He, the master of Hades, desires to enlist your war bands rather than contest with them. Thus reinforced, his horde will march upon Mezzafgraduun. Even now he comes toward this place, while the bulk of his forces, the hordes of Demogorgon and Mandrillagon, reinforced by a million or more conscripts from the netherspheres bowing to Infestix, throw themselves in waves upon Vuron's defense."

  "We care nothing for Graz'zt!" The angry retort came from Nisroch.

  "It is evident that you are shortsighted, then," Gord countered, looking squarely at Elazalag as he spoke. "Do you want to serve the ape-headed ones? Bow to a daemon overlord? Become pawns of Tharizdun?"

  "No, never," the demoness said in reply. There was force but no anger in the rejection. "It would serve my kind well if Graz'zt regained his senses too, became my co-ruler again ..."

  So, Gord thought with satisfaction, this demon princess actually has emotions not dissimilar to human ones. Elazalag cared for the demon king — as a being or as a sign of power and authority, what matter? The term "love" covered many thoughts, emotions, desires. "Then gather the warbands of the Abat-dolor now! We will confront the invaders."