DG5 - Horrors of the Dancing Gods

by Chalker, Jack L

  She gave a low whistle. "Then this is serious."

  "Indeed. Very much so."

  "Do you know who's causing it?"

  He nodded. "I think so. He took great pains to disguise himself, but the concerted efforts of the whole Council were brought to bear, and we've rooted him out. The thing is, we can't do much about him. The only member of the Council who could act refuses to acknowledge or recognize the problem. Whether it's because he's been bought off with promises of even greater power or has been deluded, I can't say. Either way, under his protection, if only by his inaction, this continues."

  "The rest of you can't stop it? I mean, you wrote all those Rules and you're stuck with something like this?"

  Ruddygore sighed. "That really is part of the problem. We wrote those Rules and we're stuck with them. Oh, I suspect that the whole of the Council could combine in single unitary purpose to dislodge our recalcitrant brother and perhaps get to this evil source he protects, but that won't happen. We can't even change the damned Rules until every single sorcerer has a copy—that alone takes years!"

  "Seems to me you dealt with Boquillas right off, at least in stripping him of his powers and exiling him to Earth," she noted.

  "Indeed. Stripping powers. Exiling. With Boquillas right in front of us. But what if he hadn't been in our custody? We would have been helpless. We still needed the bunch of you to go off and pull him out to where he was vulnerable, and even then, he was only temporarily so. Finally Joe sent him to Hell, but the bastard still didn't go there—instead he sought out the enemies of all creation, consorted with them, and is mounting a rather effective takeover bid."

  Marge was startled. "Takeover? Boquillas is alive—and he's actually trying to conquer Hell?"

  "And other things. There seems to be no stopping that man."

  Marge began to see where this was going. "You are telling me that the Dark Baron, last seen in the body of a pretty woman stabbed through the heart with a sword and falling headfirst into volcanic lava, is somehow behind all that's happening now. You really are saying that, aren't you?"

  "I'm afraid so. Things are still unfinished with him."

  She blew up. "How the hell can they ever be settled? Jeez! We've exiled him, stripped him of his powers, stabbed him, dissolved him in molten rock . . . ! If all that didn't work, then what the hell can?"

  "I assure you that this is not exactly normal even for such ones as Esmilio and myself. The Lamp of Lakash could have done it—its magic overrides natural law, the Rules, you name it. I—I thought he was gone, though, and that the Lamp had been shown to be more of a danger to us than a protection for us. I got rid of it. It was a very stupid thing for me to do. The whole reason why it was here, why it had been allowed to be here, was that it was the ultimate weapon against the ultimate attacks. Nothing could stand against it. Nothing save God and perhaps the Devil. That's why it was so dangerous. Like all ultimate weapons, defensive or not, it was always a two-edged sword."

  "Great! You know what we went through to get you that thing? Can't you get it back?"

  "Impossible. That route is gone."

  "Then what are we talking about here? After all that stuff, all those adventures, all those fights and spells and wars and personal tragedies and sacrifices—after all that, the bad guys win?"

  Ruddygore sighed. "What can I say to the first charges? That acquiring great knowledge and tremendous power makes one feel almost godlike? That you begin to forget that you are not truly a god and that the very last thing you are is infallible? Guilty. As to the second—not so long as the Rules prevail in Husaquahr."

  "Huh?'

  "Remember the one that got Joe in his fix but nonetheless saved both your tails more than once? That, no matter what, there has to be one out available? At least one? That nothing, not even certain doom, can be inevitable even if it is the most likely outcome?"

  "Um, yeah. But—"

  "That's why I've been studying here and racking my brains for so long. I am as much subject to the Rules as you are. It hit me after a fashion that the Rules would no more permit such an absolute action as I took with the Lamp than they would permit you to be executed without somehow providing a way of escape whether you discovered and took it or not. Like you, my first thoughts were on reversing the dismissal of the Lamp, and I wasted a lot of precious months trying to figure out a way around the action before I finally accepted that I had done too good a job. The Lamp is out, and there is no reversal of that—of this I am now certain. That meant, however, that under the Rules there had to be some sort of backup. Perhaps not as effective, but something had to exist beyond the Lamp, something here in this world and accessible, although perhaps not without great cost, that will at least do the job."

  She thought it over but wasn't all that thrilled by the concept. "I remind you, sir, that many years ago now I was one of those who came to this world because of just such a problem. The Baron and his demon allies were beating up everybody and everything, and not even the great powers of this world could stop them, so off we went to find the Lamp and wrest it from its ten-foot-tall killer-bunny guardian. That deal brought Sugasto into the picture, and it was more than Hell to pay before we got rid of him, never mind the Baron. Okay, we got rid of them, and we got rid of the Lamp so it couldn't be stolen and do irreparable harm. Great. Now here it is, a few years later, there's some new evil spreading over the land, nobody can stop it or deal with it, and we have to find some kind of supermagic thingie nobody else knows about and steal it and round and round and round we go."

  Ruddygore let her go on and get it out of her system, but he ignored her weary sarcasm. "Marge, there is no such thing as 'new' evil. There is only evil, eternal and vicious, and it is never new. Creative certainly, but it is very old indeed. It is the same evil that crept into the Garden, the same evil that sunk ancient Atlantis, that brought fear and war and horrors to two universes and more. It has many names. War, pestilence, genocide, hatred, intolerance, torture, fear—all those and more. But it's universal, it's been there almost since the beginning, and it will be there until the end. It varies mostly in degree and in its capacity to reinvent itself. Indeed, did you know that there is actually an entire continent devoted to evil right here in this world? Has no one ever told you of Far Yuggoth?"

  The name had a familiarity and perhaps a slightly chilling tone to it. "I have heard it mentioned," she admitted, "but not often and never directly. I thought it was a myth, like the Boogeyman."

  "Those who know of it don't want to think about it. Those who have ever known of it or been close to it never wish to think of its existence again. When you consider the amount of evil we have here even in quiet times, let alone when ones like our old friend the Baron was at large, and Sugasto, and the rest—well, a continent of concentrated evil is best left mythological. It is not, however. It is very real."

  Marge frowned. "Yeah? Then why hasn't it spawned all the stuff that goes on elsewhere? And how come we aren't in a constant war with it?"

  "We are," the sorcerer told her. "The Baron was once a good and noble sorcerer," he said, smiling slightly, "like myself, who got so caught up in the injustices he saw in this part of the world that he was led by demons to go down to Yuggoth and learn the parts of magic forbidden to any and all here. He did so, in contravention of our guild, and that, as much as or more than his breaking of the covenants and his war against us, was why he lost his powers and was exiled—but also why he was so difficult to beat. It was there he learned the gateway to Hell and made his alliances with the demon princes. Now you also know the source of Sugasto and his zombie trickery. We can keep it somewhat confined and controlled not only because of constant and heavy vigilance but also because, being evil, the denizens of Yuggoth are their own worst enemies, too. We also have a deal with the King of Horror, who reigns as temporal absolute ruler there, to safeguard his own throne and hide our support so long as he reins in as much as he can. Even so, you can readily see and experience just how much ev
il escapes to our regions!"

  Marge nodded. This was all new and interesting ... and not at all heading in any direction where she wanted to go.

  Still, she couldn't help her curiosity. "The King of Horror? You mean Satan?"

  "No, Satan's King of Hell, Prince of the Powers of the Air, ruler of a dimensional context you cannot imagine. The King is, well, a sorcerer, a great power like myself and my colleagues, with a decided bent for that sort of thing. He's propelled himself to the top there and remains, hated by all his subjects as you'd expect. You can imagine that his power is enormous—anything less and he'd have been knocked off long before now."

  "And he likes that kind of existence?"

  "Well, he's got more than he could ever want and is greater than he ever dreamed he could be. Why not? But staying on top—aye, that's always the trick, isn't it?"

  "I've seen enough evil in this and the other world that I'm not too sure how good a job he does," she noted.

  "But that's the point! He does a superb job. I seriously doubt if anyone can ever do it better. Certainly nobody has before. He's got both worlds to worry about, too. Just consider—we have always beaten what gets out here, and back on Earth, who would have wagered a fig that half a century after the atom bomb people wouldn't have already blown themselves to Hell without further intervention? Compared to that, wars, minigenocides, mass murders, demonic possessions, natural disasters, and the like seem rather trivial. No, he's definitely worth his weight in anything precious, that's for sure, but just as certain his eye is a bit too busy to be on sparrows."

  "You almost make him somebody likable," she noted.

  "In a sense he is. He can be a delightful chap. However, he rules an entire continent that mouths hatred of him and doesn't like itself very much, either."

  Marge sighed. "I know you too well, Ruddygore. You're not bringing up this Yuggoth or this King of Horror just to be sociable and educational. You are heading someplace with the subtlety of a force-ten earthquake. Someplace I am absolutely, positively, under no circumstances going to go."

  Ruddygore looked stricken. "Marge! How can you doubt my sincerity in this?"

  "If it's so easy, you go this time. You've at least got the power."

  He turned very serious. "It's not easy. It's possible, but I know that only because of my knowledge of the Rules and how things work. Just how possible and just how many mistakes, if any, are allowed, I cannot guess. Nor can I or any of my colleagues go. Not even at the very end this time, to solve the final problems. We, any of us, would be instant psychic magnets, drawing together all that is evil throughout all the planes and universes and unifying them as never before against us. Any of us either would become as corrupted as Boquillas was or would be utterly consumed."

  She wasn't impressed. "Uh huh. And if it's too much for you, you still think that somebody like me can waltz in there and walk through it unscathed? Uh uh."

  "Not alone, no. An army of faerie could not stand in that place for long. Only with an anchor—a mortal, corruptible individual of free will—could all hope to have any chance to survive, and that as much by protecting that anchor as by doing anything themselves."

  She stared at him. "You are really serious, aren't you? And you're talking about the kid. Joe's kid. You're gonna take a teenage kid and throw him into that and count on me and maybe a few other experienced types to protect him? Ruddy, that is evil. That requires no King of Horror. You are sick."

  Ruddygore sighed. "Marge—Joe is missing."

  "Huh?"

  "Joe went right into that region because the same thing that might save us would also quite obviously have no problems curing his situation. I received a message from Macore that Joe and a halfling girl—about whom I'm still trying to learn a lot of details—arrived many weeks ago, stayed a bit, pumped the port locals on Yuggoth and the like, tried without success to get Macore to join them, and ultimately went anyway. About forty days ago they were put off on a desolate shore on Yuggoth by a mercenary ship, and they vanished. I mean that almost literally. The King was aware of their landing yet can find no trace whatsoever of either of them."

  That did concern her. "Jeez! Do you think—I mean, is Joe dead?"

  "I believe I can unequivocally state that Joe is alive. Joe has a protection of life beyond any power here to alter, remember. The problem is, the protection is strictly limited to life. There are situations where life is the absolute worst thing to keep and where death would be longed for, and ninety-nine percent of those states were conceived on Yuggoth. Even being faerie doesn't lock you in; not only is great pain, misery, and whatnot as possible with your people as with ours, but the very purity of faerie existence is corruptible. The soul can always be turned and remade, and you are pure ectoplasm, as it were, and can pass to the astral planes without death intervening."

  She thought it over but caught herself. "Uh uh. No go, Ruddygore! I did my bit! We all did. And you have to admit, even with all the help, it's a miracle any of us are still here at all. Every time something like this comes up, the odds against us are greater than before. Something inside me says that I've been too lucky for too long in this department. Send somebody else!"

  The sorcerer sighed. "I shall, but they will lack your experience and your knowledge. The boy will go, you know. He'll go because it's his father, and because it's honor, and also because children that age believe they are immortal. He's the center of whatever power the new Company might have, just as Joe was of the original one. Poquah, too, although I admit that even I had reservations about him going on this trip. He is not powerful enough to withstand all the forces that may be represented just in the journey, but he is more than powerful enough to act as a magnet to draw such forces to him. He considers it a matter of honor. I have hopes that Macore might also join one last campaign."

  "He didn't go in with Joe, I notice," Marge pointed out a bit acidly.

  "No, of course not. There was nothing of cosmic significance, at least obviously so, that would have impelled him to do so, nothing to compel him to go, either, and frankly, he has just about everything he can want in his retirement and has no need for more."

  "So what makes you think he'll go now?"

  "For Joe, of course. Possibly even more for Joe's son. You see, Irving has spent some time with the old thief, and Macore has come to consider the lad as, well, not the son he never had, perhaps, but at least a favorite nephew. He's no longer in the peak condition he once was, nor is he as young as he used to be, but his skills and experience can substitute for quite a good deal."

  "The next thing you'll be telling me is that Tiana is going, too."

  "No. In fact, I have made it my business to keep Tiana ignorant of this affair. Tana has adjusted extremely well to being not merely male but king. His experiences both on the highest and the lowest levels of society here have made him wise and capable in ways the old queen could never have been and wasn't. The country needs its king badly, and for the first time the monarch is perfect for the role. As I and my colleagues battle against darkness here on the magical level, Ti is essential to the holding together of the political and social fabric. To go now would mean renouncing his throne and all claims for all times. I cannot permit that."

  "Well, I don't like it, anyway. It stinks, and I think you should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking of letting that boy go!"

  "Transformed or not, blood is blood and relation is relation! I could not stop him if I tried! And if he decided not to go, he would be useless ever after both to others and to himself. He needs to define himself. If he goes and survives, he will be defined here both to his own ego and within the Rules. It will work out. If he goes and does not survive, then he would not have long survived life here, anyway. If he feared too much to go, he would be without courage, and if he refused to go, he would lack honor. No, it is unthinkable that he be stopped."

  Marge gave a big sigh. "All right, all right. I don't agree with this, but I'll accept the point for now. The real questi
on is whether this is just a hunt for a needle in a continent-sized haystack. Find Joe. Where? How? Even your King of Horror can't find Joe! What's the object here, Ruddygore? If it's to roam around until something there finally eats us or turns us or whatever, no thanks. There has to be an object to a quest. Even I know that much of the Rules."

  "You're right. The object isn't to find Joe, but if you accomplish the object, then finding Joe will almost certainly follow." The big man reached into the folds of his robe, pulled out a small scrolled sheet, and handed it to the Kauri. She took it, unrolled it, and frowned.

  "A big, mean-looking bird?"

  "Not just any bird. That one's not alive, at least not in the sense that birds or you and I are alive. It won't fly; it won't even move. It's a sculpture, an idol if you will, carved out of black marble by some ancient faerie artisan in times long past, not here but on Earth. An island in the ancient Mediterranean, I believe. A good likeness of Hammettus hitchcockius, a very tough but majestic bird now nearing extinction everywhere. This one has an infinite number of names and has been fought over and had people die over its possession. Our own literature here simply calls it the Great or Grand McGuffin. It is on Yuggoth, having been switched for a fake one many years past and brought there by a man who tried to cheat the devil with it, and—as is standard for ninety-nine point nine percent of people throughout human history with such a goal—he didn't quite make it. It's been hidden, cared for, even worshiped on Yuggoth as a minor deity ever since."