by Gary Gygax
"Fighting elves in such country would be bad enough," Incosee said softly. "But such as the round one there are worse still. I think this band of hidden folk ahead are in big trouble if they prove to be enemies."
Gord agreed. "This fighting is of the sort which Gellor and Curley are most adept at. I prefer streets and alleys."
The Flan warrior winked, and Gord grinned back. The time for waiting was about up, and they crept forward with almost no betraying noise. The pair crouched as they worked their way up a slight ridge, then fell prone as they reached its crest. The area on the other side was an open meadow about fifty feet in diameter. In the clearing were horses, men, and a group of disheveled women in the process of picking up bundles. Their attitudes and the watchful men nearby indicated that they were captives, not companions, of the rough-looking lot.
The two men watched unseen for several minutes. Then Incosee looked at Gord questioningly, for the group was preparing to leave the clearing with a handful of mounted men leading the way, and the female prisoners and their burdens ringed by another half-dozen or so men on foot.
"Do we attack?" he asked the young thief softly.
Gord shook his head. "Wait for Gellor or Greenleaf to act," he replied as quietly.
Just as the brigands were moving out of the clearing toward the south, the one-eyed bard appeared suddenly and stood, arms akimbo, barring the path of the horsemen. "Hold there!" he cried. "Throw down your arms and surrender, or you shall be the sorrier!"
The demand was certainly loud enough for Moon and Patrick to hear, and Gord knew that the two fighters would soon come to the support of their fellows. Meanwhile, he wondered, what was Gellor planning? He dashed to a position behind a nearby oak, and Incosee took a similar station even closer to the group while the brigands' attention was fixed on the bearded man who had so mysteriously appeared before them.
"What?" the evident leader of the band cried, reining his horse so that it danced and pranced sideways. "Who are you, jackanapes, to demand anything?!"
Gellor pointed with his left arm, indicating the edge of the little glen. "Observe, lout!" he countered, and as he spoke, a great thicket of briars and brambles sprang into being so as to entirely seal off the western edge of the place. "I am a patient man, but this sloth begins to pall — get off those horses and throw down your weapons, now!"
The crossbowmen among the unmounted brigands were moving slowly so as to be able to fire at this lone adversary. Left unwatched, the dozen or so women and girls began to move backward. A gap between captors and captives was developing rapidly, Gord saw, and he realized this was what Gellor and Greenleaf had desired lo accomplish. Just then the captain of the band gave a battle-shout and spurred his steed ahead, directly at the one-eyed bard.
"Die!" screamed the beefy brigand, slashing at Gellor with a heavy falchion and rearing his horse so as to make it flail with its forehooves.
Gellor merely stepped in close, darting lo the left side of the frenzied animal. "Fall!" he bellowed in reply to the brigand as he grabbed the man's left leg, jerked it from the stirrup, and heaved. The surprised brigand flew up and backward to land with a jarring thud. His horse screamed and galloped off. Gellor stood once again with arms akimbo before the prancing mounts of the four remaining horsemen.
Gord saw that the arbalesters were almost in a position to bring their weapons to bear upon his comrade. "Now! We must show ourselves!" he called to Incosee.
As the two stood forth from behind the trees on the little ridge, they made sufficient noise to draw attention to themselves. The captives saw them first, dropped their bundles, and fled eastward away from the brigands confronting Gellor. This seemed to serve as a signal for Greenleaf to act. He appeared at the far edge of the clearing, and the frightened escapees swirled left and right around him, shrieking in alarm. All this commotion caused the outlaws to spin and look to their flanks and rear. A quarrel buzzed past Gord and imbedded itself in the oak beside the Flan warrior.
Suddenly Gellor's sword was out and flashing. A rider who had turned his head at the distraction uttered a howl of pain as the blade bit into his arm. The flail he had formerly held ready fell to the turf, and the wounded brigand's horse ran into another animal and kicked at a second. All was now total chaos.
"That was Greenleafs work!" shouted Gord as a blossom of fire erupted in the midst of the crouching crossbowmen.
"I saw him hurl something," said Incosee with a grunt of effort as he heaved his heavy spear at a charging brigand.
Gord replied as he let fly an egg-sized stone at the same man. "The druid uses fire seeds — he told me of the magic."
Both adventurers were drawing their shortswords even as they exchanged more comments. They dispatched the wounded brigand and ran to engage the others below. As Gord and Incosee charged down the gentle slope, Patrick and Moon burst from the trees, urging their horses to a trot, and another of the druid's enchanted missiles sent forth its fiery tongues. This was ail too much for the outlaws. Those on foot or dismounted threw down their weapons and cried for quarter. Two horsemen managed to get past the bard's whirling sword, however, and rode away without concern for their fellows.
"Ride them down!" Gellor boomed to the two mounted mercenaries. " Bring them back alive or dead!" Moon and his companion complied immediately and likewise disappeared into the trees in pursuit.
The four other adventurers rounded up the surviving brigands. There were ten in all, eight of them wounded, and four of those near death. Only two of the opponents had been killed. Greenleaf actually ministered to the mortally injured outlaws, and in a few minutes it was clear that they would now survive their wounds.
"What about those prisoners?" Gord called.
"They won't wander far in the next quarter hour," the half-elven druid replied as he finished his healing work
"Moon and Patrick should be back by then, and we'll have this lot ready for a march. We'll all go after those women, and find out how they came to be captives of this lot."
Gellor eyed the cowed brigands coldly. "Pray they condemn you not, or your deaths will be hard… Have any of you anything to say?"
Gord and Incosee were just finishing binding the hands of the outlaw prisoners when Patrick and Moon returned. They bore red badges of battle, but behind them they led the horses of the two brigands who had attempted to escape. The bodies of the pair were slung across their steeds' saddles. The prisoners got one look at this and began a flood of confessions, explanations, and pleas. A few kicks and shakes silenced the babble, and then organized questioning began. 'The bound outlaws were frog-marched, one at a time, to stand alone and tell what they knew to Gellor. This was done out of sight and earshot of die rest. After each brigand was finished with, he was taken to a place in the woods. Gord stood guard over these men as they came. The outlaws, not knowing the fate of their comrades, spoke progressively more factually and to the point. After the seventh man of the ten was questioned, Gellor had the full picture.
"Gord!" called the bard. "Bring the lot of dogs back to the clearing." The young thief quickly herded the sullen group of brigands back to join their fellows, and Gellor spoke to the entire group.
"I know that you served with the vile dwarf, Obmi, and his henchmen Keak the elf and Gleed, a gnome," the one-eyed man said to the prisoners. The brigands stood defiantly now. "I also know that you slew and burned, looted and raped, from the far side of the Suss Forest all the way to here. These deeds are sufficient for your death warrants, each and every one of you!"
The sullen faces were more pale after this statement, but there was no other reaction. Gellor went on, as much for the benefit of his associates as for other reasons.
"The ambush and destruction of your former company is none of our doing," said the bard, "but I applaud those who brought your band so low. Now ready yourselves. We will find the prisoners who fled from you and tell them they are free. You will run before us — and woe to any who stumble, for they will not rise again! Thereafter,
you will serve as our shield as we seek other survivors of your foul band."
The druid had rounded up the horses, numbering eleven now with the addition of those of the brigands, which were standing quietly with the coursers ridden by the adventurers. The six mounted, weapons unsheathed and ready. Trotting before them went the half-score outlaws, their hands thonged securely behind their backs. Just as they left the wooded area, however, they saw the former captives running toward them. The northern sky was dark, and an inky black cloud stained the horizon.
"Help! Help!" the women cried as they approached. A dozen giant ravens wheeled and croaked above the women, but something far worse had brought them to such a state of panic.
"We are friends!" called the druid. "Your former captors are now our prisoners. How can we help?" There was no hesitation. The dozen women and girls came directly up to the party, ignoring the brigands, who had been herded into a clump by Moon and Incosee. Gord noted that although they were dirty and worn, the former captives were all well-formed and good looking. Prime candidates for slavery indeed, the young thief thought. One of their number shouted for silence and spoke to Greenleaf.
"Gaunt horses come at us, druid, and terrible baying from inside the black mists. The riders are inhuman and the calls send terror to the marrow of the bone — these are yeth hounds!"
How she knew of these fell creatures, Greenleaf couldn't guess, but what she said seemed true enough. He gestured toward the riderless horses. "Each of these spare mounts will carry two of you," he said to the spokeswoman. "You will ride with me. And the girl," he continued, pointing to a frail brunette hardly more than a child, "rides behind that man there — Gord."
The frightened females complied readily. Gord said nothing, merely smiled and extended a hand to help her up.
"Your friends approach, I think," Gellor called to the ten brigands. "Run to greet them, or else we will ride you down and slay you all here and now!"
Two of the outlaws cried for mercy, and several others demanded to have their hands freed and be given weapons. A few blows with spear butt and sword flat silenced these pleadings and demands. The brigands began trotting away toward the gathering gloom, unwilling but afraid of the threat of instant death. The party sat for a moment, watching the men. When one started to turn back, Incosee leveled his spear and brought his horse forward at a trot. The brigand swerved and began loping toward the black fog again. His fellows likewise began running. Incosee turned his mount, and the whole party went away down the trail at a canter.
As they moved, Gord shouted to his fellows. "There are worse than the yeth in that doom. Hades has unleashed its whole pack!"
"What? How know you this?" Gellor called back with doubt.
"I could see into the blackness," Gord replied emphatically. "How? I know not, but the vision was as clear as if I saw through eagle eyes, it was so close."
"Never mind how," interrupted Greenleaf. "What did you see? "
The young thief grimly described his vision. "Many of the things I saw were unknown to me — great and malign creatures of foul aspect. I saw three men on nightgaunts… that name sprang into my brain as if placed there. They were the chiefest of the Hierarchs. Around them swarmed the hounds of Hades, yeth and more deadly dogs still. Hags and hulking giants marshalled a host of hobgoblins and lesser humanoids in their thousands. All were poised to march at the Hierarchs' command. Ravens and bats are the scouts and messengers of this evil horde, and they report our proximity even now."
"This is fearsome news," said the druid. "But your seeing was certainly granted to you by some power opposed to these hideous minions of Hades."
"What else did you see?" demanded Gellor, looking fixedly at Gord as they rode.
Gord met the one-eyed bard's piercing gaze. "The center-most of the three Hierarchs pointed southwest. The other two gestured. I saw dragonhide drums being beaten, and I felt the rumble through the very ground. On the other hand, iron horns were winded, and the ebon vapors seethed and billowed at the bellowing. They are advancing, but they seek something to the west of us. If we ride due south, we will avoid this terrible horde."
The others had heard the whole exchange. All looked at Gellor to see his reaction. He was silent for a minute, then spoke.
"We will follow this track until the women are safe. Then Patrick and his friend, Moon, will escort them onward. The rest of us will turn westward and ride to the coming battle, for more than our lives depends on it!"
Chapter 16
Blue Celene showed only her slender crescent high above amidst the myriad icy-colored lights that sprinkled the vast welkin in a crystalline wonder. The air was soft and warm, and the breeze smelled of night-flowering blooms and growing herbs. Across a prairie meadow dimly lit by the glimmerings of the heavens walked four men, leading tired horses. The extended wing of the Eldest Griffon pointed behind them to their left. From their occasional pauses to check this constellation, it was evident that the four were guided in their course by the stars. They traveled a little south of west, walking rapidly despite the lateness of the hour.
"Rest," Gellor told the others.
The druid heaved a grateful sigh, for the rotund half-elf was exhausted from traveling and spell-working. Gord, twenty years his junior, was too proud to utter any sound of relief, but he was just as glad for the pause. The wiry Flan warrior bringing up the rear seemed to stride on long, tireless legs, Incosee merely grunted acknowledgement, allowed the reins he held to drop, and sat squatting on his heels. His steed began grazing with its three fellows, snorting in pleasure as it tore mouthfuls of the dewy grass and consumed them.
"How long?" asked Gord.
Gellor spoke in a low voice. "Fifteen minutes — a half-hour if our pudgy friend insists, but no longer," he answered. "Those we seek to aid cannot be far distant. We are bound to do our utmost to find them."
"Whoever they are," added Greenleaf, as he stretched himself on the ground and placed his hands behind his head.
"At least we are not pursued by the yeth and their foul masters," Gord noted, "so there is much hope."
Curley Greenleaf harrumphed. "Not for those we seek. They have no such luxury, I fear, and if we should find them we must be prepared to face this malign enemy!"
"Quiet, you two! Who knows what might be listening!" Gellor was nervous and edgy to speak thus, and the three with him understood and refrained from comment thereafter.
Gord was dozing, a catnap where full alertness was but an eye-blink away. Greenleaf hummed between meditation and snore. Incosee had fallen into instant slumber. Only the one-eyed bard remained fully alert. His touch brought Gord to instant alertness. The young thief saw at once that Gellor had doffed his eyepatch, and his enchanted ocular glittered in the place where his normal eye had once been.
"Look there to the west, just above the horizon," he urged in a whisper. "What do you see?"
"Let me hold my sword," Gord answered quietly, reaching for the dweomered weapon.
Gellor's hand gripped his own. "No, just use your unaided vision, just as you did when you saw into the gloom yesterday. Tell me if you notice anything."
Gord moved uneasily and peered into the sky, scanning the area indicated by his friend. After a moment he said, "I see nothing… Wait! There are bats, scores of giant bats! They are flying northward in a stream!" As he spoke, his whisper rose to a louder tone as excitement overcame the young thief.
"More?" prompted the bard. Greenleaf was awake and listening now, as was the Flan fighter.
"Yes. There is something huge and terrible toward which they fly. But I can't look at it… it is like coals searing my eyes!" Gord gasped.
"You must look! Tell us what it does, this monstrous abomination," and as Gellor said that he placed his palms reassuringly upon Cord's shoulders.
Gord forced his eyes to the spot again. "It is a winged behemoth of Hades!" choked the young adventurer. "Upon its back is one whose name must not be spoken — the Master of the Hierarchs. The winged hor
ror is horrible — and its rider is worse!"
"As I feared," Gellor said to his friends. "Yet even my enchanted orb revealed but little of this to me. Lefus pray that the power you have to see such evil things will help us to combat them. Gather yourselves and prepare to fight those creatures from the pits!"
Without speaking, each of the four made swift preparations. The druid handed Gord two unusually heavy acorns, saying, "The Oaken Concatenation schooled me in certain special arts. These dear acorns are still potent, and will remain so for some hours yet. Cast them truly with your sling, comrade!"
Gord tucked the pair of missiles in his pouch and thanked the druid. "As surely as I can, old friend, and with a supplication too."
The horses moved well enough. The half-hour of rest and grazing had refreshed them somewhat, but they couldn't be run hard without risk of killing them, whether from fall or exhaustion. As they rode at a slow trot, Gord considered his course in the coming engagement. First he would try the fire-seed missiles given him by the druid, for they were potent. Thereafter, he thought, he would put aside his sling. He had no supply of magicked bullets to employ, and against opponents such as those he had somehow seen, ordinary missiles of lead or stone would be useless. What then? Sword and dagger were good enough against most opponents, but Gord thought he'd find scant use for his blades… not immediately, anyway, only at the last. At that thought he could not suppress a shudder. "Think, man!" he commanded himself.
He rubbed his hand across his face unconsciously. A tiny spark of light shot from his hand to his eye, a glimmering of starshine caught and reflected from the cat's-eye chrysoberyl of his ring. With that glint came a jolt of memory. He reached into his pouch, a magical case that could contain far more material than its outer dimensions would suggest. Gord recalled a parchment scroll taken from the vampiric Plincourt some time back when he had plied his craft in the byways of Greyhawk. He had tucked it away and forgotten it for several reasons. Perhaps this was something he could use!