by Gary Gygax
A hundred miles to the southeast, Eclavdra was cursing and threatening her remaining servitors. The sudden storm had blown her fishlike vehicle before it, despite all efforts to keep that from happening. Finally, to keep from being overturned, the crew had been forced to allow the vehicle to run before the gale. Now the craft was lodged among rocks, stuck fast in the outcropping stone. It would take a long time to free it, if they could. The drow high priestess was in a fury, but that couldn't change the situation.
About the same distance away from Gord's group to the northeast, Obmi was in a similar state. His sailing ship of the desert was motionless, the masts broken and sails torn to shreds. It would be a difficult task to clear the pile of fine dust and ash that had drifted against it so the thing could move again. There were spare sails, of course, and a new mast could be raised. Now the favorable wind was gone, though, so at best his progress would be slow… perhaps too slow.
"Where is the filthy bitch?" the dwarf growled to his companion, who was intently staring out across the desolation.
"I sense her location to be about three hundred miles south, Obmi, and she is getting neither farther from us nor closer to us."
The dwarf grinned in satisfaction. "She is not moving either. Is she dead?"
"If she were dead, I would not be able to perceive her location as I do, and I would have other ways of discerning her lifeless condition, too — believe me. She is stationary, but alive — of that I am very sure."
"You had better be, Leda, or else I'll make you-"
The dark elf whirled toward Obmi, an icy glare fixed on her face. "Don't bother threatening me in any way, dwarf. I joined you willingly, and I serve you in the same fashion. Our bargain stands — you get the Final Key, I kill Eclavdra. If you seek trouble, look no farther than here. I have only one desire, and I will see it realized — with you or without you."
At that Obmi laughed, reached out, and slapped Leda on her round bottom. "You're cool-headed and tough, drow. That I admire!"
"Give the gwahasti their heads," Dohojar suggested. "These old dust runners know where water can be found. They can smell it for miles." The men were thirstier than the lizards, for when it came to a choice, the water was salted and given to the mounts and the men went dry — or with scant ration, more accurately. It was more than seven days now since they had bathed and drank at the oasis near the plateau. Since that time, they had plunged east into the desert of dust and ash and had seen no sight of even a damp spot. Dohojar's suggestion brought no better result either, at least as far as they could tell. The big reptiles just continued going in the direction they were headed anyway, directly toward the morning sun.
"We cut our water ration by half again, tonight, unless we find a spring or oasis," Gord told the others. Not even Delver bothered to answer. He was too dry, and grumbling did no good. The lizards ran on, and the men dreamed of deep, blue lakes. All this time there had been but little wind. It was as if the skies had exhausted themselves in the fury of the storm a week ago and were now recouping strength. Mere zephyrs blew from the north, eddying and shifting all around the compass at times. When it was time to make camp for the night rest, each of the seven got a mouthful of water only. Even the gwahasti were on half rations. Men and reptiles were growing thin and weaker all the time.
Hunting had been bad for the lizards; that was evident from their increasingly gaunt flanks. Only eight returned from the noon foray the next day, and Gord was uncertain about what had caused the loss. Either the others had eaten their comrade, or else it had been too slow and some predatory lurker in the dusts had gobbled it up. It wasn't much of a loss, for with their water nearly exhausted and food down to a couple of days' worth for each of them, two pack beasts weren't needed. The remaining extra animal was loaded down with the tents, and the water and food were distributed among the seven members of the little band.
Even though the gwahasti ran more slowly these days, they still made good speed, and the miles fell behind. The next day was much the same, only they noticed little specks circling in the sky above them. When they dipped closer to the ground, all could see that they were some sort of vultures, with wing-spreads of ten or twelve feet. The birds didn't come especially close, but it was impossible for the travelers to ignore their presence or what their appearance portended. Gord wasn't worried for himself just yet, but he wondered how the others were taking this ominous turn of events. Then he overheard a short exchange that put his mind at ease.
"I think we're in big trouble now," Smoker remarked laconically to Post.
"Yep," the lean fellow replied. "Unless those damn things come a little nearer, we're never going to get fresh meat."
Shortly thereafter, dust-striders started to appear — strange, long-legged arachnids with beak-like mandibles. These things were as big as jackrab-bits in the body, and their legs were two feet long. They were carrion eaters, too, but according to Dohojar they were not edible. The dust-striders paralleled the little band at a distance, just as the huge vultures flew high above. When dusk came, the vultures disappeared, and with full darkness the striders were gone too. The party halted for their nighttime rest period. As soon as the gwahasti were unsaddled and unloaded, all eight managed to hit a fair run as they sped off to the northeast instead of settling down to sleep. Even Dohojar was at a loss. "Never have I heard of such behavior," the Changa said. "It is unheard of, Zehaab — unthinkable!"
In the course of further conversation about what had just happened, the brown-skinned man admitted that he was not really an expert on the lizards. He had ridden them a few times, seen the big reptiles handled, and talked with those who were familiar with gwahasti, but that was the sum of his experience until their recent escape. Dohojar was ashamed and morose. "Never mind, serjeant," Gord said to him with a hearty slap on his narrow back. "You've helped us all to get this far. That itself was one fine piece of work, and all of us are in your debt. Cheer up, now, and let's see what we can do to put our band back on the trail tomorrow!"
Despite this encouragement, Dohojar was glum and looked ready to wander away into the dust to escape his failure. Just then, Shade intervened with a shout from about a hundred feet away, where he stood on sentry duty. "Hey! Look sharp there in camp!" he hollered. "Ridgebacks cutting through the dust toward you — from the north!"
Just as fins cutting the surface of the water signal the approach of sharks, so do ridgebacks above the ash herald the arrival of the dreaded dustfish. Gord had heard about them from his fellow travelers, and knew enough to be sure that he never wanted to meet one — but there was nothing to be done for that now.
"Grab your weapons and look for any bit of rock you can find!" Gord shouted to the rest of the men as he snatched up his own arbalest. There was a waning half moon in the sky, that being Luna, and Celene was just above the horizon. The two satellites shed a fair amount of light — hopefully enough to enable Smoker, Post, Barrel, and Dohojar to see well enough to aim and hit their targets. Gord clambered atop the leather tents to get a height advantage, such as it was. Just then a streak of light darted forth from where Dohojar had run to. He was at the edge of the camp, in a position nearest the approaching monsters, and the dart of violet-hued light revealed a monstrous, finlike ridge for a split-second as it splattered upon the extruding back of the approaching dustfish.
"There's a whole bloody school of the bastards comin'," Delver muttered as he jumped up beside Gord and loosed a bolt from his crossbow. "We just might be in trouble, captain."
After making his courageous but futile attack with the wand, Dohojar was trying to bound through the powdery dust back toward the others, and a huge fin was close behind him. It must have been the dustfish he'd hit with a missile from the wand — enough to attract its attention, but insufficient to injure the monster seriously. Gord and Delver saw the situation at the same time, both realizing that the Changa would never make it. The dwarf was growling oaths of his folk as he triggered off a quarrel, despite the fact that the ru
nning man partially blocked his line of fire. Gord likewise loosed a bolt from his own arbalest, silently praying that he'd hit the dustfish and not Dohojar. The small man gave a great leap just then, and the dust at his heels erupted in a geyser that obscured the rest of what happened from the sight of both onlookers.
Chapter 20
She could do nothing but watch, invisible but helpless, as Eclavdra brought forth a heavy bag and slipped the Theorpart within it. The male with her was certainly a magic-user as well as a sword-wielder. She would become visible if she attacked, and she could not risk that. Leda could do nothing except grit her teeth in anger and despair as her parent and counterpart made off with the Final Key. Then, when she saw Obmi collapse before the doorway and watched his two servants carry him and his weapon from the chamber, she acted, for she had realized that there was something to be done about it after all.
Still invisible thanks to the ring she wore, Leda crept across the main chamber and out the same doorway that Obmi and the nomads had exited. As she went, she noticed a group of slaves huddled together around the place where Gord had fallen to the ground. In the back of her mind, she wished him well, but she did not pause, for there was a far more important matter to be tended to now. It was easy for her to circle around to where she was in the nomads' path as they left the temple. Then she removed the ring and put her plan into action.
"Put him down!" Leda commanded as she appeared suddenly in front of the Yoli warriors. They needed no further urging, promptly dropping the dwarf and his weapon and fleeing. They had seen enough of drow to know what they could expect from such a one as Leda was. Obmi was groggy, and she could have used his own martel to kill him on the spot. Instead, she first confiscated his weapon and his magical boots and then conjured up a spell to heal the dwarf and bring him into full awareness. She stood a couple of paces away from him as Obmi slowly opened his eyes and shook his head.
"Eclavdra!" muttered the dwarf as he regained his senses. He lunged at her, trying to get to his feet and grab the martel as his mouth began to spew forth the foulest of curses. Leda let him rant and rave for a few seconds, realizing that he was still too weak to present any real threat to her.
"Stop your foolish prattling, Obmi," she said condescendingly. "You have neither your pick nor your magical boots, so you may as well not try to either fight or escape. Relax a moment and take a close look at me."
"Fuck yourself, drow whore!" Obmi glared at her with a baleful expression, resigned to die defiantly. Then the dwarfs eyes narrowed, and his stare of hatred changed to a puzzled frown. "What is different about you, bitch of the black dogs? Has the Theorpart affected you already?"
"Don't be stupid, Obmi. I have no artifact. Look hard at me — youVe seen me before, in the chamber just a short time ago."
"There is no doubt about who you are, Eclavdra. What is the point-"
"Eclavdra and her servants even now make their way out of here with the Final Key. She has duped you all along, dwarf. I am her clone — one meant to fall into your grasp while she stole the prize from under your nose! You see me changed, as you seem to notice, because something in the magic which engendered me from her flesh went awry. I am not her exact duplicate."
The dwarf put his head in his hands and moaned. "Outwitted — tricked by that nighted bag of offal! I am finished, finished! How will I avoid the wrath of the demoness? Oh, my poor Obmi! We were so near-"
"Stop that sniveling, you stupid little nothing," she spat. "Eclavdra hasn't won yet, has she? There is a long way for her to go yet before the game is over. I am here to give you the victory — if you are not too weak and spineless to grab it."
"What is this you say? Victory? Do not think to play some demon's game upon me now, drow, for unarmed and hopeless as I am, I can still break your scrawny neck with my bare hands," and as he said the latter words, the dwarf flexed his thick fingers.
"No game, Obmi, just simple fact. Accept the fact that I am a clone of Eclavdra. Then the fact that I desire her death — even more than you do — is apparent. With those things evident, why should I care about the last bit of that cursed artifact? You may sit on it, for all I am concerned. I would see my progenitor die. slowly, before my eyes — that is all I desire. Give me that, dwarf, and I will gladly yield the Final Key to you."
Obmi stared at her then, hard, searchingly. "Why do you seek my aid in this matter?"
"Simple. Eclavdra has guards, a means of traveling across the Ashen Desert, and the Theorpart. I am alone now and without any mode of transport. You have henchmen, and I assume you also possess the means to pursue that wretched bitch."
"So? Why should I take you if I have all that?"
"Because I have clerical powers, just as she does, and am an expert with weapons too. Yet, all of that aside, there is a principal reason which you cannot disregard for any cause."
The dwarf looked dubious at that claim. "Just what can that be, drow?"
"The link I have with she from whose flesh I sprang grows stronger each day, Obmi. I know what direction she lies in, and I can closely estimate the distance between us. Better still, the aberration which occurred during my formation has another most delightful consequence."
"Which is?"
"Eclavdra hasn't the foggiest idea that I exist!"
They struck a bargain then and there. The dwarf realized that Leda had used her spells to help him, and after she voluntarily returned his dweomered weapon and boots, there was actually a modicum of trust for her in the dwarfs black heart. Together they made off for the place where Obmi's vehicle was kept. The few yellow-maned baboons and the creatures' masters who sought to have them attack the two were dealt with in summary fashion. Before going far, they came upon four Yoli — the two who had failed to locate Leda when they were sent after her, and the two whom she had surprised while they were dragging their leader away from the temple. Leda was surprised by the dwarfs generosity in accepting them back without more than a few fight blows and heavy curses. "I need those big rats to work my craft," he confided to her. "When they outlive their usefulness, I shall show them that failure to protect one's master is a crime to regret — sorely indeed!"
It was a clumsy thing, Obmi's vaunted ship, but the shift in wind enabled them to make fair speed in the direction they desired. Leda had warned the dwarf about the precipitous drop that divided the plateau upon which the City Out of Mind rested. He had known about the existence of the cliffs to the north, because he had come from that direction, but those to the east were a surprise. Forewarned, he found the edge and skirted along it for a score of miles. This course delayed them somewhat, but the alternative was far worse. Finally they came upon a steep incline, and the vessel rolled down at breakneck speed but survived the descent.
Then they encountered a line of hills that forced a detour northward. They were zigzagging, but all the while the direction and distance of she whom they both sought was clear to Leda. The wind remained favorable, something that pleased and disturbed the dark elf at the same time. Perhaps, she conjectured silently, some being was taking a hand, one who dared to meddle where demons and devils, even deities, dared not… Then the storm struck from the north, almost as if Leda's very thoughts had triggered retribution. They survived, barely. It required several days of work to make the craft usable again and free of the dust and ash that had nearly buried it and them in a powdery tomb.
Now they rolled south and east, with a soft wind pushing out the makeshift sail of the vessel. The Yoli were haggard and worn from having to work constantly with little sleep, but Obmi was unrelenting. If they failed, they would die, he said plainly. To succeed was a dream that they would enjoy, with rewards uncountable. The four men worked without a word of complaint.
While the ship sailed smoothly along again there was much free time to talk, and now that Leda and Obmi had become fairly comfortable in each other's presence they learned some things about one another. After the dwarf revealed to her his earlier plan to have Eclavdra killed, Leda expl
ained that it was her party, not Eclavdra's, whom the bandits came after. "The sorcerer got a lot of my group with his work," she told him. "But I managed to find cover before his blasts went off, and when the spell-binder saw none left who could fight, he left the scene in a hurry. But the nomad bandits were thorough — and greedy. They discovered me in my hiding place and were able to grab me because I had not yet matured to the point where I could use spells or weapons against them. Instead of killing me, they took me prisoner, headed south, and joined a caravan, thinking to sell me in Kamoosh for yet more loot," she said with a laugh.
"Did you then learn to use your spells, drow? How did you escape those fools?"
"The Arroden attacked the caravan. The men of Yoll were many and determined. For once, if what I hear is true, the veiled riders were hard pressed to prevail. More — Arroden came, though, and I thought the Yoli were finished. It was a lone man who brought the whole battle to an end, with both sides running off with their tails between their legs."
Obmi was puzzled. "A lone man? What do you mean by that?"
Leda laughed again. The lout rescued me from where I was pinned beneath my mount. I'd never have escaped otherwise. He is — or, more probably, was — an adventurer from City Greyhawk bent on stealing the Theorpart from both you and Eclavdra. I convinced him that I would aid his mission, thus getting his aid while I journeyed safely all the way to the City Out of Mind."
"Describe this man, and spare no details," Obmi said.