Dance of Demons gtr-5

by Gary Gygax

  "That is so, maggot," Gord called back not moving from his defense of the only exit from the place. "It will shrink the size of your realm, though," he added, now mocking the mocker.

  It was so! The metal seemed to be sentient. It pooled, gathered, then flowed down. A portion remained to seal the way to the turret's roof while the remainder oozed down toward the next opening in the floor. As it sealed that space, the adamantite from the ceiling and wall heated, ran, moved to Join the rest, ready to flow further downward soon again. It could not harm him by its furnacelike heat, nor could the metal compress or suffocate Tharizdun. All it could accomplish was to make the chamber he now rested in into a cubicle, a virtual coffin. So constricted, the small man who championed all Tharizdun would destroy could skewer the Master of Evil as if he were a trussed bullock awaiting the butcher.

  He had meant to be cautious, careful, not underestimate his adversary. That resolve had been broken, because the greatest of Evil was what he was, and arrogance, cruelty, hatefulness, and vanity were integral to his mind and makeup. Tharizdun had erred in assuming he could bypass an immediate confrontation, that he could overcome the foe easily, that he could somehow find and use his old powers. The little display with the boy's skull had been a stupid bit of braggadocio. Instead of horrifying the man to a point where Tharizdun could crush him easily, the ploy had backfired and made Gord more resolute. Now the last portion of his essence was still in the head, awaiting consumption before Tharizdun could employ his full faculties. The gray-eyed man with the deadly sword stood over the gory skull and seemed to understand its importance.

  As bad was the fiasco of the three rings. The adversary obviously understood the edge those things allowed him here. If only he had eaten the child completely! Better still, had the little puppet only managed to get the tokens of Light away from the three, then served himself up to restore Tharizdun's vigor to its full! Neither case was, so what else could be done? He tried rage, but the fury was insufficient to bum away the fear. Wholly evil, totally malign, Tharizdun was all that comprises wickedness, and cowardice is as surely of that dark woe as cruelty and the rest Fear began to pervade Tharizdun, because he had no courage to face a foe who was his equal.

  "I'll hack you into bits!" the beautifully evil one shrieked, his whole being torn by dread and hate. Tharizdun sprang erect and began to advance.

  Somehow he hoped to force his way out of the confining chamber, to escape the adamantite's restraints, fly into the multiverse. Once loose, it would be only a matter of gathering power, gaining strength. Even without the immediate consumption of the last of his vital essence locked fast in the skull, Tharizdun would be so mighty that no champion could stand against him. The fear came from the evident probability of his not being able to break free without melee. The sword was too potent a weapon, and should it strike home, he. Tharizdun, might actually suffer the fate of mortals and lesser beings. The latter thought added the hate to the dread that consumed him.

  For some inexplicable reason Gord moved into the chamber to meet Tharizdun's charge. Possibly it was meant to prevent a sudden lunge to freedom. Sword and battleaxe met with a clash that echoed off the metal walls, while sparks of magical generation sizzled and snapped through the air where the two weapons collided. Despite his opponent' advantages of height, weight, and reach, Gord turned the stroke of the axe with Courflamme. The heavy, doubleheaded weapon caromed upward from the parrying blow Gord delivered. The longsword was far faster in recovery than the massive war axe. Its edge sliced along the naked flesh of Tharizdun's torso, slid rather than rebounded. "The first!" Gord exclaimed.

  "Aaagh!" was the sound that shot from the archfiend's cruel mouth. The dweomer of Courflamme's blade was insufficient to actually cut his flesh, but the contact hurt. A fiery burning puckered the flesh of his side, and Tharizdun's perfectlooking skin grew swollen and lIvid where the edge had struck.

  The pain and the fury caused Tharizdun to lose control of his form, and he metamorphosed into a monstrous parody of man, a fiend with a visage more hideous than any demon's, eyes more baleful than those of Asmodeus himself. He brought the battleaxe around and down, striking the small man a glancing blow that knocked him away to the left. That allowed Tharizdun to have the two-bladed weapon at the ready before Gord could thrust or cut a second time in the exchange.

  "You are well named. Master of Malevolence," Gord panted, feet planted, Courflamme weaving in a delicate pattern before the archfiend's eyes. "You wield a wicked stroke with that axe of yours, and your ugliness is beyond description. What will my next touch do, cause you to change into a dungpile?" It was not merely a taunt, a ploy to disconcert his adversary. Despite the pierced armor and small cut that the blade of Tharizdun's axe had inflicted, he saw how telling his attack had been. Power surged through Gord's whole body, and with it came a calm confidence. Above came the hiss and splatter of the molten adamantite as it slowly oozed downward. He could engage and best Tharizdun here long enough for the stuff to have its way. Then, even though the great axe could become two smaller ones, Gord knew his longsword would pierce the evil flesh of his adversary and end the threat of Tharizdun forever.

  The same realization came upon Tharizdun that very moment. "I am not ready!" the being of Evil bawled as if calling upon the multiverse for succor. It was a protest at being not fully in his wicked power and glory, and it was a cry too against his own imminent end. "Darkness! Come!"

  A deep, monotonous voice spoke. "No evil comes to your aid, being of utmost bane. Will you accept the help I offer?"

  "Yes, yes! Whomever or whatever you may he, I eagerly accept your aid!"

  "There is the price of sharing. .

  "To the fullness of your deserved honor shall I grant that — " and then Tharizdun had to break off in order to fight again, for Gord had closed and attacked hotly when the new presence in the chamber became evident.

  With a rapid and deadly series of cuts and thrusts Gord fought. The new ally that came to Tharizdun was one known to Gord, for it was none other than that entity that called itself Lord of Entropy. Even if the thing could lend no direct support to the black foe, the young champion was certain that the entity could somehow unbalance the situation, allow Tharizdun a chance of victory. Unlike the malign deity, Gord knew that the only real chance he had to stand against his terrible opponent was here and now. He understood all too well that if the Ultimate Evil ever roamed free, then it would be as if he were a mouse attempting to fight a tlger.

  He took wild chances then, trusting to his speed, reflexes, and skill to save him from death. The great battleaxe did find its mark again and again, but no telling blow was struck in return, Gord plied Courflamme, and the once-fair skin of Tharizdun became a mottled patchwork of welts and little cuts that oozed gelatlnous blood. "Now, master of maggots, let's hear more of your whining!" he gasped as a particularly heavy overhand stroke hacked down upon Tharizdun's shoulder.

  Reeling back sending forth a string of ineffable curses at the gray-eyed champion, Tharizdun tried to gain enough distance to allow his huge axe better play. On an intuitive urge, the archfiend suddenly dropped to one knee and lashed out with his right arm, arcing the battleaxe parallel to the floor at knee height. The spiked top of it struck Gord's armored legs, and the man fell rolling. Tharizdun Jumped upright again, and in the interval when his adversary was regaining his own feet, the being of Evil again caused his weapon to become two.

  "Where is the assistance?" He shouted the words even as he leaped toward the champion. At close quarters, Tharizdun knew full well his small hatchets would have great effect, but Gord's agility would soon enough put the two at sword's length again. It was only a momentary advantage. Tharizdun had to have some outside agency lend him help!

  Both wildly swung axes missed their mark, one fended off by Courflamme's quillons, the other going wide of Gord's left shoulder. Even as that happened, Gord's years of training as swordsman and acrobat proved their worth. He slipped under the taller opponent's guar
d, sprang away to Tharizdun's rear, and then cut sideways with a two-handed scything blow that had the force of a pirouette added to it. This time the blade actually drew a spurt of blood as its edge cut a thin line on the evil being's nearly impervious flesh. "You may be the greatest of all netherbeings, maggot; but you are a poor fighter!" Gord panted as he again circled to gain a position that both prevented Tharizdun from attaining the door and kept the deity of Evil at a distance.

  He was right Tharizdun knew that. Great, powerful, the darkest force of wickedness known — that was true, but such did not speak to Tharizdun's indIvidual prowess with ordinary weapons. In his prime, the dark being could destroy minds, shatter spirits, and utilize dweomers as no other could. Were he whole and filled with eldritch powers drawn from the nadir of the cosmos, Tharizdun could have bested the champion of Balance by drawing upon arcane forces to counterbalance Gord's skill and the power of Courflamme. At this moment, however, the difference in relative capacities in melee was beginning to tell. As Gord struck and moved and spoke, the ancient malevolence could manage no reply. The dark being was wondering only when the voice that had promised assistance would deliver the succor. That Gord was aware of the entity and seemed unconcerned troubled Tharizdun. Was this to be the finish? Impossible! After all the time, centuries of sleep filled with dreams of return and red revenge, nightmares of powerlessness, and the sweet foretaste of reawakening power, he could not be stopped here on the threshold of opportunity! Because the small man kept a distance, the darkest of evils again transformed his weapon into the great war axe.

  "If you desire a fencing lesson, mortal fool, you shall have one!" Tharizdun finally said, crying with boldness he did not feel. The ploy was simply to give a bit more time for Lord Entropy to lend his aid.

  Unknown to Gord, the formless thing was indeed at work on behalf of the Ultimate One of Darkness. Entropy had immediately transferred itself to the chamber above where the dweomers of Light were at work on the metal that imprisoned Tharizdun. The entity settled itself carefully, and for a minute or two all of the multiverse save the small portion of nowhen and nowhere in which Tharizdun's prison existed was relieved of the burden of Entropy's weight. The entity condensed all of itself there, and on a single small area too. No substance, physical, mental, spiritual, is infinite in its form and existence. Where Entropy rested, and the adamantite felt the effect that ten billion years would bring. Suddenly the blue metal became nothing. There was a hole in the cage; an escape route now existed. "Come up to me, Tharizdun," Lord Entropy said telepathically.

  Gord heard that message. He redoubled his efforts, but the massive axe kept him back far enough to enable the greatest one of Evil to back his way to the stairway. "Coward!" the young champion shouted as Tharizdun bounded up the steps.

  "Fool!" Tharizdun shouted back. Then he saw the opening with its amorphous darkness that was the entity and leaped through to the freedom beyond.

  I will return soon, Gord the Cursed, to hunt you down and finish you. yours will be the slowest and most painful of deaths imaginable! do watt for me. .

  It was a mental message, of course, that last. It came as Tharizdun went winging across the spheres. Not certain whether his foe would hear or not, Gord responded staunchly. "Be sure to do that, maggot, for I'll expect a better fight when next we meet."

  Chapter 18

  It had been all they could manage to remain where they stood. Either their own abilities or the power of the rings would normally have enabled Gellor and Leda to ascertain what was happening within the castle's great tower, but neither method availed. Just as the troubador grew so restless that he was about to disobey Gord and return to the interior of the fortress, his mind received his friend's urgent plea for energy:

  ". . send me the force held within your rings," Gord had telepathically demanded.

  Even as Gellor concentrated, willing the energy that lay in the golden circlet to flow to Gord, the bard looked toward Leda. The dark elfs lovely face was also etched with furrows of concentration. She too had heard the message and was complying.

  Neither was certain just what forces were contained in their respective rings, or how best to supply the dweomered energy to their comrade, but each did the utmost to serve as a conduit. Suddenly there was a visible flashing, a ray of force that sprang from each ring. These rays combined and shot into the castle's ever — darker mass with a sound like a triumphant chorus of celestial voices.

  "I feel weak," Leda said, swaying on her feet.

  Gellor supported the little elven girl with his arm. "It was the power of the rings," he said. "We succeeded in giving Gord whatever was held fast by these bands. Let us hope it was sufficient, for now I am as drained as you, Leda. I couldn't hold a sword now to defend myself against a stripling hobgoblin."

  Though the enervation brought both sudden feebleness, the recovery came as quickly. In the space of a hundred heartbeats the two went from near debilitation to vigorousness again; and with the renewal of strength came a sense of new power and capacity.

  "We succeeded!" Leda cried triumphantly. "Now we must return to Gord's side."

  Gellor was again trying to pierce the veils that surrounded the grim citadel. The growing evil hampered that, and the sheathing of adamantite precluded penetration of the place in which the troubador knew his young comrade now fought Tharizdun. "Wait, Leda. Just wait a little yet. If there is no signal from him soon. " Just then there was a sudden darkening and heaviness quite unlike the slow insinuation of malign nature that the evil archfiend had caused in his reawakening. Gellor broke off to ask, "What invidious force is this?"

  Leda couldn't mistake the presence. "It is the Lord of Entropy! He has come to undo our work. . "

  "No need to be despondent, girl! Gord's quest is shared by us all, now. Don't we have three rings? Does he not obtain our help? Ask for our power?"

  "Yes, but he now fights alone against two enemies."

  "You said 'our' work and that is plainly true. We three fight together. Gord now faces Tharizdun and the entity alone because that is what he commanded. What course now, though? Can you sense any clue, Leda?"

  She paused, concentrating. "No. There is. . nothing. I say that if we believe the situation altered, doubt Gord's capacity to handle it, we must perforce disobey his instructions. Let's rejoin him now!"

  The troubador hesitated, weighing the prospects. "Wait. We must wait just a little yet."

  "You wait if you wish, old man," Leda cried. "I can't stand here another moment while Gord fights those two all alone!"

  He watched the dark elf step back into the fortress, torn between his own desire to follow her and what Gord had said. Then there came an all-pervasive laughter, as evil a sound of glee as the energy from the rings had been righteous. "Leda! Come back! The archfiend is free!" Shouting this, Gellor ran inside himself, seeking her inside the castle's now lightless confines. There came a sudden glow from just ahead, as if a wizard had cast enchanted light to counter the gloom. As if in response, soft illumination came from him too, the glow as golden as the light ahead was silvery. "Leda!" he cried again. "At least wait for me!"

  "Hurry, then! I know the way to the keep," Leda shouted back Then she paused until the amberglowing Gellor was near. "There, down that hallway," the dark elven priestess said. "We must follow that to the corridor to the vaulted chamber beyond. The staircase — "

  "Yes, yes. I recall," Gellor said puffing a little from the exertion and excitement. "I'll take the lead, for I have a sword. Stay close!" He and Leda had not gone half of the hall's distance, however, when an azure light filled its far end.

  "What are you two doing in here?" Gord demanded as he ran toward the two. "This whole place is about to crumble. Rim for your lives!" He was up with than in an instant, shoving at their backs in order to speed them onward. "Out — we have to get out!"

  Great hunks of sooty stone were raining down around the three as they shot out of the castle, gasping for breath. The bridgeway across the chasm was
beginning to show signs of disintegration too, so there was no respite. They ran on, making their way across the perilously swaying span as the central tower rumbled into a thunderous crescendo of collapse. From that epicenter the destruction proceeded, until the outer curtain walls of the citadel began to fall into ruin. They had just cleared the bridge when it cracked and splintered, dropping away soundlessly into the bottomless space it had arched over. The once-bright quicksilver was now pitchy and brittle stuff of unguessable sort, it seemed, as they dragged each other onward, finally managing to clear the tall outwork as it too crashed into rubble.

  They fell gasping at a place where the tumbling blocks of obsidian-hued stone rolled near as would breakers at the ocean's shore, their place Just beyond the farthest danger. "What happened?" Leda managed to get out. Then she looked at her love. "You're not badly hurt, are you?"

  "The bastard! It was Entropy. He somehow managed to breach the prison. Tharizdun escaped then — just as I had him!"

  "You were outfighting the Ultimate Evil?" Gellor's disbelief was very much in evidence despite the rasping voice that their recent flight forced from him.

  "He is the Champion," Leda sniffed.

  "He is right, Leda. Listen to the wisdom of our friend," Gord responded after drawing several deep breaths. "Never again will there be such an opportunity as I had just then. Tharizdun was newly awakened, muddled, only half what he will soon be. I could have — would have! — sent him into the void forever more had not the Lord of Entropy interfered."

  "What will we do?"

  "Gather our own resources and prepare for a second battle. There is no other option. If we sought to avoid it, Tharizdun would certainly come to seek us out. No, there is but one thing to do. Ready and then find that maggot before he has the opportunity to become fully prepared."