by Gary Gygax
"The skull of the boy-Tharizdun is not here, Leda. When we brought Gord here, we somehow failed to create sufficient force to take that grisly trophy along. The archfiend must have it even now. …"
Before Leda could respond to that, a faint howl came wafting to her ears. It was borne along on the aethereal wind, and it sent long shivers up her spine and ice into her brave heart.
"Now is the beginning of the end," Gellor said heavily.
She would not allow that "Come, troubador! There are shadewolves thick upon the Land of Shadow. They roam the forest and field. What we heard is naught but some pack of them voicing their fell presence to all the others. Come on! We must find habitation and safety. Help me carry Gord to such a place."
"As you wish, lady," Gellor replied. He made no further comment, and the two labored along in silence through the ever-shifting place that was the shadow world. Creatures of the sphere came to investigate, but not even the most ferocious of dark predators drew near. The three bands, Courflamme, and Gellor's kanteel too, kept all such prowling beasts and hungry monsters at a distance. In a short time the two came upon a community of the phantom-folk who were predominant in Shadowland, and in that village they found rest.
The rings they had gained from the transmutation of the three Theorparts had been used heavily. The energies locked within them were growing weak and erratic, especially since there had been no opportunity to expose them to any realm of Goodness where some restoration of their power could be made through drawing upon the forces there. In Shadowland the bands seemed very strong and bright, but anywhere else their auras would have been pale and dim. Both Leda and Gellor understood this, and both worried as to the result when they utilized the rings yet again to restore Gord to health and vigor. Would the tokens of Weal be drained dxy and become useless?
"We have no option in the matter," Gellor said flatly. "Even if we three are then stripped of our last defense against the enemy, we must bring the champion into consciousness and restore him to strength as well."
Leda agreed for many reasons, of course. After she and the bard had rested and recouped their own energy, they went to work to bring their friend back to them from his comatose state. The bands each wore gave up only a slow trickle of power, but along with the magic each of the two was able to activate without the rings, it was sufficient to bring about a gradual change.
Gord's pallor lessened, and his breathing went from shallow, rattling breaths to deep, normal ones, the sounds of one who is in deep and restful slumber. From there he was further restored, and before long he awakened and was able to speak. "Where. .?"
"In the realms of the shadows, dearest one," Leda answered softly.
"I. . hurt What did this to me? I had the foe at my mercy. …"
"Aye, old friend, that you fairly did!" Gellor said with true heartiness as he recalled the moment of Tharizdun's overthrow there in demonium. "Then the Jackal Graz'zt struck you unawares with the Eye." With few words but stark ones, the troubador recounted the whole of what had happened after Gord had been attacked and made senseless by the force of the evil relic in the demonking's hand.
"We had no help? No succor came from the beings who sent us to the battle in the Abyss?"
Leda shook her silvery tresses, her face clearly depicting her anger. "No. We were deserted there, my love. We were left to die, but Gellor and I were only just able to get you here to the safety in shadows."
"It is a place which the archfiend will easily penetrate," Gord said softly with an edge of warning plain. "We must leave soon."
"As soon as you are strong enough."
"Leda, that might be too long unless some outside force is used. It is time to draw upon the rings again."
Gellor put his calloused hand on Gord's own. "Easy, comrade. The strength of the bands is sorely diminished. I fear there is not enough to bring you to full vigor and keep their magical capacity extant. Dare we drain them dry?"
"We must," Leda ordered.
"No," Gord countermanded. "I can lean upon the force of Courflamme to get by until the rings are recharged."
"And thereafter?" the bard asked with uncertainty.
The answer was simple and given without optimism. "We take whatever measures possible to avoid the last meeting with Tharizdun whilst seeking some last chance to win."
"You mean.. ?"
Gord looked squarely at Leda, even though Gellor had spoken. "It was very nearly all I could manage to face the archfiend last time we fought Unless there is some miraculous intervention, I have no illusions regarding my fate — and so too yours. He will best me with ease, and then the multiverse will sink into unending night"
Thereafter none of them spoke much. They avoided even the phantom-folk who housed and assisted them, preferring not to have to discuss what loomed before them all. Even on the sphere of shadows the struggle was known, and it was no secret that the champion was in residence in the home of the village's elder. Before that word could spread far, Gord. Gellor, and Leda gathered their few belongings, strapped on their weapons, and made their way from the realm of shadows to another place.
The three were careful not to tell anyone their destination.
Chapter 23
Frustration was inadequate to describe it. He had been within a hair's breadth of concluding all. and then his foe had somehow managed to get away. Tharizdun grimaced at the very thought. He reached out and grabbed a nearby slave, a female from an ancient race that had devoted itself to his service before mankind had recorded history. But she made no protest, died without outcry or pleading, and this made the archfiend even more agitated. "Is there no satisfaction anywhere?" he shouted. Nearby daemon guards cringed, and that, at least, brought him some gratification.
Just as he had finished his play with the stupid hulk that had been styled Graz'zt and sought his main opponent, the press of his own stupid followers had so obscured the field that Tharizdun had found it necessary to search for several minutes to locate the Champion of Balance. When he had finally sighted the small man, lying senseless and helpless between his two comrades, the commotion caused by routing demon lords had demanded his attention. It took but a brief interval to clear the way, send his chief minions in pursuit of the rebels, and then Tharizdun had again been at liberty to deal finally with the pesty little fellow. Gord.
It had been erroneous to allow anything to interfere with expeditlous dispatch of his adversary. The archfiend mentally flogged himself for not acting, for allowing himself a moment to gloat. The little mortal had been so absolutely defenseless, so completely at his mercyi Then Tharizdun had detected the slow accumulation of a dweomer, a spell growing about the three humans lying prone there on the slowly convulsing surface of Ojukalazogadit. Immediately upon sensing that gathering magic, he had struck, but to no avail. Perhaps something had interfered, although Tharizdun couldn't conceive of anything powerful enough, or foolish enough, to do so. With sure gestures he had summoned a force to bind the three victims in toils of powerlessness and pain. The dweomer fell upon them, yet nothing was bound. The force of his calling merely served to tumble the gnawed skull of the boy from his adversary's pouch.
"That, at least, was worthwhile," Tharizdun said softly to himself. Immediately upon spying the bony thing with its shock of yellow hair, Tharizdun snatched it up and swallowed it on the spot. Consumed it that is, after having changed his head and jaw sufficiently. The boy's head had made a satisfying crunch as he slammed crocodile-huge jaws down upon it The petty spell, cast to keep it as it was. being thus broken, the usefulness of that act was immediately evident to him, too. Spells, powers and means to tap cosmic forces came back to him in a rush as the stuff that had been locked into the child by the Lords of Light spun free and lodged once again in his true consciousness.
"He knew when he faces me that it was the only chance possible," Tharizdun thought, recalling the moment. "Gord was relying mainly on my lack of completeness. perhaps he was correct. . but the demon's act was one of wicke
d sort, a fitting evil; and it is I alone who am Evil! Could there have been any other result than what eventuated? No, I do not think So!"
To have gained the whole of himself again was worthwhile. To have lost his opportunity to slay Gord at a single, effortless stroke was infuriating. But there were consolations. He had completed his pack and now the three greatest hounds would hunt for and find his three little foes. Then Tharizdun would stride into the final fray without any doubt of its outcome. That was because only one thing could result. Now that he had his full faculties, he would triumph without fear of injury. The sword? That would be undone from a distance prior to actually facing Gord. Tharizdun had planned that contingency even when lacking a portion of his power. Very soon now there would be but one thorn left to extract….
"Lord Entropy!" the archfiend called telepathically with a force that sped through planes and spheres as a shout echoes along a deep canyon. "Come and share my sport!"
An indeterminate amount of time passed, then the deepening darkness indicated the coalescence of the entity. "You imagine the contest as mere sport now?" Entropy said in its slow, mechanical voice.
"Is it anything other?"
After the laughter from the being died away, Entropy spoke again. "Two near-fatal rounds indicate otherwise, Tharizdun. Even had you been the almost-victor in both."
That stung the haughty Master of Malevolence. "You dare to speak to me thus? I'll …"
"I speak to any and all as I choose. You will do nothing; you cannot harm me, that's why." It wasn't entirely so, but the entity thought it best to always retain an edge by obfuscation and mental domination. There was yet much to accomplish, and the lord of Evil was a tool which had to be plied with force and much direction. "There are fundamental errors in your assumptions. It is wise of you to ask for my assistance."
Tharizdun was not fooled, nor would he allow the words of the entity to drift away into realms of forgetfulness. Whether or not there was truth in Entropy's assertions, the archfiend knew what it sought. If he used his powers to continue life, creativity, activity and the formation of new things. Lord Entropy was weakened and his power abridged. Tharizdun could certainly harm the boastful entity. The trouble was, such actions were very much against the archfiend's own desires and undercut his own domination as well. That, too, annoyed Tharizdun.
Because of that, he spoke to the other matter. "Your assessment of the duels is what is full of bull-dung, leaden lump," Tharizdun countered, forcing a deep laugh to underscore his contempt for Entropy's words. "The first engagement was set up to take me without my strength gathered. In the second, the three rings were used to lever away all the forces I could bring to bear. No more can either situation apply. Sport it will be, soon, just as I stated."
Ignoring the illogic of the claims, Entropy addressed only that which was of interest to itself. "You are so certain of easy victory in a third contest?"
"Of course!"
"The foes still have the bands forged by the greatest masters of Weal."
Tharizdun was not impressed. "The power of those rings is waning as I wax, and soon the whole of the spheres of illumination will he closed to the so-called champion and his helpers."
"Perhaps, but until that occurs they do draw new energy into the rings, and that gives them strength. There is the sword, too. Do you forget that it is forged of both dark and light? Any sphere can be used to energize its dweomers, Tharizdun. The three are again growing stronger, and the longer you dally here, the larger looms the chance for defeat — your downfall! You think it meet to use epithets such as 'leaden' in addressing me, yet it is Tharizdun who epitomizes inertia."
"Untrue! I have been most active in my work. All that lies below the Plane of Hades now feeds my power. Each netherrealm now wears the collar of slavery I have fashioned. I do not tarry uselessly. wliy do you seek to incite my rage, you slow and ponderous bungler?"
Entropy was unaffected by such words. "If I bungle, I also seek to prevent you from doing the same, Tharizdun. You must lay waste all potential fonts of energy, clamp tight the springs which could send power flowing to your foes. Ravage all, hunt them down! Finish the champion soon, Tharizdun, or the third match might go as the first went."
In truth, there could never be a fourth confrontation between him and Gord. Tharizdun knew full well that the next duel would be the final engagement between them. The archfiend frowned briefly, then stood and smiled his evil smile. "But why do you prate so, Lord of Entropy? All you rant of may or may not be so, but the reason you are here doing that seems to have been forgotten — by you!" Tharizdun drew himself up in hauteur, his face an arrogant mask of pride and malice. "It was I who summoned you to me. I do not languidly sit while the foe gains strength. You were called to witness my last campaign. The yeth are about to be released. I will lead them across the planes and bring my quarry to bay."
"And the despoiling, archfiend? Will you deny your enemy aid from all sources?"
"You seek to do no more than further your own ends, Entropy," Tharizdun sneered. "I know your desires. For this occasion I concur, though. you tell me nothing I do not already know, but you may have whatever satisfaction you might from this: I will lay waste to any sphere which has harbored the champion, and I will raze all which lends strength to him!"
"That is exactly correct," Entropy droned loudly.
"Please commence your work."
The exact number of hounds in the pack was impossible to tell. New ones joined the howling throng constantly, others departed for one reason or another. Perhaps a hundred of the things howled and slavered there at one instant, then three times that number were present, giving voice to their hatred and insanity as they sought to destroy all that was not like them — fully alive, clean, sane, unfettered. Whether a hundred strong or a thousand, however, there were always three monstrous members of the pack at its head. Laughing hideous mirth, Tharizdun was always there too, whipping those three on from the center of the howling, snapping press as it ran across the spheres in spectral fashion.
It was the yeth named Mephisto which the archfiend chose to head the howling pack as it ravened through the realm of shadows. "this is for your failure!" Tharizdun said afterward, thrashing the hound-thing with excrutiating tendrils of barbed-toothed energies because the hunt had not brought Gord and his companions to bay. Somehow, just before the master and yeth came, the three had slipped away, vanishing into the vast and convoluted basin of time.
Entropy could not enter, and the archfiend refused to follow, for it was becoming apparent to Tharizdun that the being who was called Chronos had only enmity for him. And because of the wild confusion of this version of the cosmos now precluded orderly tracing of energies, It was not possible to scry or use similar means to locate his prey. Having loosed the hounds, the archfiend had no other recourse. It suited the entity very nicely, of course, for in the savage fury of destruction that Tharizdun and his yeth hounds visited upon a sphere, the coming of Entropy was hastened.
Tharizdun railed and cursed and was exultant all at once. He would raze the multiverse and rule over a rum rather than go down into destruction. Leaving Shadowland a dark desert, the greatest expression of Evil drove his pack onward. "You will lead into the domain of the master of Cats, thrax," the archfiend commanded. Yammering with special hatred for the feline species, whimpering in undertone too at the prospect of having to face such foes, the yeth bounded into that sphere. Perhaps their quarry was there when hunter and hounds came. There was such a battle fought, though, that even Tharizdun couldn't be certain. After great losses and much fighting, the realm was left a lifeless desert. Archfiend and pack, diminished in strength and much worn, flew off to seek the champion elsewhere.
"The portals to other probabilitles may be sealed." Entropy scolded, "but those three are somehow leeching power from those other universes nonetheless. Perhaps they need only a small space to do that; I cannot determine how it is accomplished. If we — you, principally — are to triumph, that must
be stopped."
Tharizdun was also aware of the succor that Gord, Gellor and Leda somehow managed to gain. The rings enabled the flow and served as recipients and storehouses of the force drawn by the three. "You will bring tour weight to bear upon the gateways, leaden thing," the archfiend ordered the Lord of Entropy. "Portals can be barred from two sides, I think! If the lords of otherwhens think to seal me off, so too shall I shut them out of my demesnes. Once all here is truly in my grasp, then i will batter down those barriers. Now you and I will see that the gates are held sealed from this side."
"You are indeed fit to be the Most Malign," Entropy said with actual admiration. "I will agree to do as you request," it added carefully, "for it suits my purposes too."
"In many respects we two approach oneness," Tharizdun drawled. "More and more I become the brain, you the body. So shall it be."
It was not all the work of the entity, that countersealing; archfiend and yeth-pack also had much of the labor to manage. It was deeply satisfying work for Tharizdun, that destruction and terror. It was no lessening of the hunt, either. Even as they shut off place after place, hunter and pack harried all in search of their prey.
The yeth called Thrax was fully recovered from the punishment given to him by Tharizdun after the destruction of the domain of the Catlord, so all three of the greatest hounds were there when the archfiend made Graz his chief dog in the harrying of what could only be the last refuge of the three. "You shall be foremost, Graz my faithful dog, when I drive the yeth into the lands of mankind," he boomed gleefully. "It was such satisfaction lemons desired, and you, demon-hound, shall finally have your day." The coal-black yeth snarled and snapped its steel jaws in deranged fury at that, imagining its victims' throes of agony, desiring to rend the archfiend too. The response made the packmaster even more delighted.
Not even the glorious devas were there to prevent the hunt. Such was the fell nature of the master of hounds that no longer could even a planetary deva survive the attack of the hounds, no stellar one face the darkness of the archfiend. In their final days, even the Lords of Light set aside their aloofness and fed what force they could to bolster Tharizdun's foe. It made the malign being quiver with anger and pride. None could withstand him now, even the champion!