by T. H. Lain
The dancing, fiery figures on either side of the road continued flickering but they stayed as still as flames ever could, in a ring around the adventurers.
The voice came from a short, stocky figure. He looked like a well-muscled dwarf but his skin shone as if it were made of brass. Instead of hair and a beard, orange flame wreathed his face and swirled up from his head. He wore a kilt made of some coppery metal and a surcoat woven of thin wire and studded with many gemstones.
"Disperse." Smoke rose from the creature's bright eyes as he spoke again.
Almost as one, the small figures surrounding the adventurers jumped and danced back between the side buildings. Within seconds, no sign of their presence remained.
The fiery dwarf looked around, apparently satisfied, then he strode down a set of steps leading from the flat roof to an alley adjoining the road. He walked right up to the party and Alhandra, who stood nearest his side of the street. The emblems on her shield and breastplate caught his attention and he nodded.
"Hail, servant of Heironeous," he said, holding one hand up in a gesture of peace. His mouth barely moved when he spoke, but his baritone voice rumbled from deep in his throat.
Alhandra recovered quickly. Sheathing her sword smoothly, she mirrored the dwarf's gesture.
"Hail, and well met. I am Alhandra, paladin of Heironeous."
The dwarf nodded, his flaming hair flickering as he did so. His face looked grim, but he bore no weapon, only a thick rod tucked into his belt.
"Welcome to the City of Fire," he said. "I am Gurn Klaggesar, warden of the city."
"W-Warden?" Naull stammered. "But we thought the city deserted."
The dwarf stared at her, his eyes smoldering—and not metaphorically. It was disconcerting, Naull thought, to look into eyes that burned like coals.
She shifted in the brief silence, then stammered, "Oh, I-I'm Naull, a wizard of... well, a wizard."
"No one dwells here, Naull the Wizard," the dwarf answered, "save I and my servants. We watch over Secrustia Nar and protect it from outsiders."
Naull fidgeted again, and Regdar said, "We're glad to hear it. We have the same mission."
A fiery eyebrow cocked and the dwarf looked at the fighter in what appeared to be mild disbelief, mixed with a small measure of amusement.
"I'm Regdar, and this is Krusk. He comes from the city of Kalpesh. He bears a key."
Krusk, suddenly aware of the dwarf's attentive gaze, fumbled in his pouch and drew out the key. He gasped and nearly dropped it. He'd grown accustomed to its magic nature—flames seemed to dance along its edge whenever he held it out—but now it appeared to be a ball of living flame, flickering and burning in his palm. Still, it gave off no heat and the half-orc's thick skin was unscorched.
"I am aware of the key," the dwarf said evenly. "I wondered when it would return." He sounded almost disgruntled, as if talking to children who'd 'borrowed' something that did not belong to them.
Krusk bristled and closed his fist over the ball of fire. "I come from Kalpesh!" he declared loudly. "My master was Captain of the Royal Guard and Protector of the Opal Throne. He died protecting the key and he passed it on to me. I will close the gate." His chin jutted out and his eyes bulged, daring the dwarf to respond.
Naull gaped and readied herself. It was one of the longest, most eloquent speeches the half-orc had given since she'd met him, and it seemed particularly ill-timed. Whatever this dwarf was, they stood on his home ground. She forced herself to look away from the defiant half-orc and over toward Gurn Klaggesar.
Surprisingly, the dwarf stepped up and bowed low, his flaming mane flickering. When he finished and spoke again, his voice changed. It was still strong and full of authority, but there was some respect there, too.
"Forgive me," he said at last. "I have not had visitors for many years. My manners are suspect. Please, let me welcome you, Protector, and your companions. Come, and I will show you the Opal Throne you have traveled so far to see."
The dwarf paused to see Krusk and the others nod, then he set off down the road with the travelers spread out on either side of him. He began talking, telling the story of Secrustia Nar.
Most of Gurn Klaggesar's tale echoed what Naull had already told the group of the legends, but some of it amazed her as well. It was a long tale and most of it made little sense. Still, Gurn had a way of telling a story that made the details interesting, even though none of the adventurers knew the people and places he spoke about. Eventually the dwarf got to the point of his tale, however, and each listened intently as he told of the creation of the city.
"Your world still breeds mighty wizards?" Gurn asked after some time. He looked at Naull pointedly and she nodded. "Then you know how they can be. Always delving, always probing for knowledge ... and always looking for new ways to express their powers.
"Well," the dwarf continued, "a millennia—or was it two?—ago, powerful wizards from your world on the Material Plane made alliances with some of the beings dwelling on the Elemental Plane of Fire. They bargained with the efreet—" the dwarf spat that word out like a curse—"the azer—" Gurn indicated himself—"and others. With the aid of their magic, my people built this city between the two worlds and made it accessible to both. Beings of both planes can exist here; the magic sustains all."
"I told you it was dwarves," Krusk interrupted.
"Yes, you're very smart, Krusk," Naull said impatiently. She was eager to hear what the dwarf—the azer—imparted to them. The wizard studied the planes from books and scrolls; here, she had an actual denizen of one of the Inner Planes! "Please, Gurn, continue."
"There is not much more to tell," the azer said. "At first, the peoples of both planes dwelt together in peace. Good, evil, fire, and flesh. Magic and truce kept all in check and there was much commerce." The azer's eyes flickered at that word and Naull wondered how similar these fiery dwarves were to those she knew from home. "But conflicts arose. I know not what pressures built on the Material-worlders," he said, though his voice sounded a little harsh, "but some of the most evil creatures of Fire, the zegguthi'ter ata garra—"
The flames around the azer's head, which had been mostly bright orange, turned dark red and his bronze face darkened visibly.
"Excuse me," he apologized, and his face lightened, "the efreet—" again Gurn spat the word— "used their powers to corrupt and influence others. War began on both planes, and the city became a conduit for conflict and chaos."
"So you closed the gate," Naull concluded.
The azer nodded solemnly.
"But why didn't you shut it permanently?" Regdar asked. "I mean, if it's such a danger..."
"The city itself is no danger. It is a conduit through which many can draw power. Beings from either plane can come here, or be forced here, by any who know how to do so. The controller can then send these creatures out to perform services," he said. His voice was grim. "That is what started the war in the first place. Creatures of fire have some power on the Material Plane, no?" The others nodded their agreement. "And wizards still use them to fight their battles? Imagine if they did not have to use their own magic to summon and control creatures of fire. How dangerous would someone with that sort of power be?"
Naull thought of the little she'd seen done with summoning spells and the flaming sky outside. She shuddered.
"As to your question," the azer continued, not waiting for an answer, "the gates could not be permanently closed without also collecting all the keys. I could not leave the city to retrieve them. I sent out searchers for the keys long ago, but..." Gum shrugged. "Most of the keys were stolen and scattered over many planes. I and my allies retrieved all of them but this one. The key taken to Kalpesh was not stolen," he said, looking at Krusk again, "but taken there for safekeeping while we searched for the others. As long as one remained, however, the gate could still be reopened."
Krusk started to open his hand again, perhaps to offer the burning key to the azer, but the dwarf turned away and gestured up and away
from them. The adventurers' eyes followed his hands.
"Here. We have arrived. Behold the Ivory Tower! Inside you will see something no one from your plane of existence has seen for centuries. Othakil eb Anar—the Opal Throne."
The party stared in wonder.
The building that led to the tower was a wide, sandy structure set back from the road they walked along. It stood two tall stories high and marble statues with blazing, ruby eyes graced its courtyard. The party's eyes climbed the steps to the grand entrance but continued upward to where a white tower, so slender it had to have been built by magic, grew up out of the mansion. It continued up into the sky to end at a minaret made entirely of flickering flame.
"Well," Naull said at last.
The party entered the palace, walking underneath a marble dragon's legs. Winding stairs led up on either side of the building and small figures flitted over them, through the air and along the banisters. Many leaped to the side of the azer and he bent to listen to their wispy, crackling voices.
"My servants," he said. "Mephits and fire spirits and creatures of smoke. They spied you entering the city and told me. They will serve you as long as you are here."
The party nodded and Naull asked, "Do you have somewhere we can clean up?" She didn't know how long they intended to be there, but the wizard felt very tired and very dirty.
It's all this white, she thought.
"Of course," Gurn began, but then a small figure, a naked woman of perfect proportions but with fire instead of hair, hopped up to him and tugged on his kilt. He bent and his eyes widened as she spoke. "No!" he said. He turned to the party, his coal-black eyes now red with flame. "Others have entered the gate! How—there is no other key!" He glared accusingly at Krusk. "You left the gate open!" he said angrily.
The sudden change in their host's manner startled Naull, but the half-orc bristled and met the azer's stare. Before he could respond or Gurn could say anything further, Alhandra interrupted.
"The gnolls," she said. "We didn't realize they were so close behind us. We raced them here."
Quickly, the party told Gurn an abbreviated version of Krusk's story, and of their own flight into the caverns and down through the passage. He did not react to the burning of Kalpesh, but his eyes smoldered when he heard of the blackguard. He called the fiery woman to his side again and spoke to her in a strange language. She responded in kind, shaking her head.
"My servants have not seen—" he paused, as if considering, then continued,"—a human woman in black armor," Gurn said with obvious relief, "but there are many of these gnolls. They must not reach the palace."
"Can't your servant...?" Naull gestured, but her voice trailed off. At least one of the azer's mephits looked to be made of lava and others seemed to consist entirely of fire and smoke. "Can't they stop the gnolls?"
Gurn shook his head. "No—the compact with the Inner Planes is inviolate. They cannot harm anyone of the Material Plane while they are here. I will not be the one to shatter a treaty that has stood for millennia. You are of their home world; it is up to you to repel them."
"Oh, terrific," Naull said tiredly.
The Last Battle
The azer and his servants led Regdar and the others quickly into what looked like a small guardroom.
"I, too, cannot help you fight. If the blackguard reaches the citadel... perhaps," Gurn said, shuffling through a small chest. "But I can give you the means to battle. You, wizard."
He gestured to Naull. She stepped up beside him and he handed her a small black wand. As she touched it, one end glowed red.
"Point the bright end at the enemy and say 'secrus'," the azer explained.
Naull nodded, recognizing the draconic word for "fire." She had little doubt of the wand's function.
"Krusk," he continued as he drew a quiver of arrows out of a small, nearly empty weapons locker, "use these arrows. I think you'll find them effective."
He gestured to Regdar and pulled out the last weapon, a bastard sword covered in runes that were burned into the blade with acid and treated with burgundy dye. He grinned, the first time they'd seen him truly smile. His teeth were white, but smoke wisped out between them.
"I think you'll like this," the azer said to Regdar.
"Paladin of Heironeous," he continued, "I have nothing for you. When the dwellers between worlds abandoned the city, they took or destroyed nearly all the weapons and magic within. Even if I could find something you might use, you would rather trust your sword and shield, marked as they are by your god?"
Alhandra shifted and said, "Don't misunderstand, sir. I will turn any weapon, unless it was created in evil, to the service of Heironeous, but I trust my sword and shield well enough. You are more than generous."
Gurn nodded sternly, but appeared pleased by the paladin's words.
"Perhaps I have something for you after all," he said.
From his own surcoat the azer drew a gem hanging from a silver thread. The paladin bent at the waist and Gurn laid the necklace over her head solemnly. It hung down over the emblem of Heironeous and both glowed briefly, the emblem gold and the gem red.
"Accept the blessing of Moradin," he said.
She nodded, apparently surprised to hear the dwarf god invoked by a creature of the Inner Planes.
"I will go up into the tower," Gurn concluded. "When you have defeated the gnolls, or destroyed them, return. We must work quickly. I can begin the process of closing the gate, but you must bring the key and its protector." The azer pointed at Krusk deliberately. "I cannot close the gate without you, and it."
Krusk nodded.
"C'mon, folks," Regdar said, hefting his new sword. "Time we got rid of these dogs."
"What are they?" asked one of the scouts.
The gnolls strung their bows and nocked arrows but Kark ordered them not to fire. The creatures dancing in the shadows on either side of the road approached no nearer than the walkways and did not threaten them yet.
"They aren't human," the gnoll said.
Kark snarled, "I can smell that." His ears lay flat against his head. "They aren't attacking, anyway. Keep moving. Find the soft-skins."
The gnolls moved along the road, spread out and snuffling. Three scouts up front, three behind, and Kark and three others in the middle. They would find their quarry, and they would kill them. Kark believed the soft-skins couldn't run much farther.
He was right.
One of the forward gnolls, the one on the left, stopped suddenly. He yipped softly, just loud enough to draw the attention of the others. As Kark looked up, he saw a jet of flame stream down from one of the nearby buildings and strike the scout high in the chest. Fire burst around the gnoll, and he went down hard, his bow clattering on the stonework. The fire sizzled briefly, charring the dead scout's fur and sending up a horrid stench. Even before his nose caught the filthy odor, Kark barked an alarm.
Too late for the middle scout—an arrow made entirely of flame blasted the next gnoll as he turned. The young gnoll howled in fright and fear, beating at his fur before the fire could catch. Another arrow, this one made of wood and feather and tipped with steel, struck him high in the chest. He spun away from the impact, trying to flee, but stumbled and fell dead.
Kark barked orders, trying to rally his remaining troops, but they were frightened. The scouts were experienced ambushers, but they'd never before been caught in one themselves. Kark realized immediately that their prey had doubled back on them, letting the gnolls follow the trail right into a trap. The old gnoll knew from experience how effective that trap could be.
Krusk and Regdar kept firing arrows at the frontmost gnolls. They saw the old one move and heard it shout, but many of the others stood in shock and surprise or simply crouched, unsure what to do or even where to look. They were easy targets for the two archers.
Following behind one of the smoke mephits (Gurn would not allow them to fight, but he instructed them to guide those who could), Naull found herself winding through a narrow alle
y up to a small building on the right side of the road.
"Secrus," she breathed again, and a tiny red bead shot from the bright end of the wand.
Streaking toward the rearmost gnolls, it exploded against the skull of the centermost creature. The fireball's roaring eruption hurled two of the creatures to the ground encased in flame. They thrashed and shrieked for brief moments before falling still. Naull could see their blackened, shriveled forms inside the subsiding fires. The older gnoll, however, avoided the brunt of the blast by diving to the side. He rose from the ground quickly, looking distinctly shaken and with burning embers of his former troops still smoking in his fur.
From the other side of the road, Alhandra leaped out with her sword unsheathed, crying, "Heironeous! Heironeous!"
The gnolls that were still on their feet had their bows in their hands and were hungry for any target. Two arrows whipped past the paladin before her bright blade hewed through the hard wood and sliced into the creature's hyena-shaped skull. The sword wedged tightly in the bone, but Alhandra used her strength and momentum to wrench it free. She heard the beast's neck snap from the twisting motion, and Alhandra knew that whatever life may have remained in the creature was snuffed out then. Nimbly she leaped over the humanoid's corpse and rushed toward the next in line.
Kark's command disintegrated. With his flesh singed and his followers dying, the old gnoll wondered at the suddenness of the onslaught.
What happened? he thought wildly.
The silver knight he recognized from the inn's yard, but he couldn't even see the others. Flames and arrows and bright swords—Kark knew the fight was over when the knight stepped toward the last of his scouts. The last! From ten to two in mere seconds! Among the pack, there was no tradition of honor demanding that a commander die with his troops. Kark fled.
Seeing the last gnoll sprinting over the stone road, Regdar tried to line up a shot but couldn't. The angle was too sharp. He cried out to Krusk, but the barbarian already had his axe in his hand and was running to help Alhandra.