"She was that close to us?"
"Closer, even... but no matter. The time you may stay grows short now. I have gifted you, and we have exchanged forces to that extent which is permissible. Now, Gord, will you leave me some token of yourself?"
"I... I..." he stammered, trying to think of something suitable. All of the fine jewels and pretty tilings he had accumulated as a sea rover were aboard the
Silver Seeker.
What little he had with him seemed inappropriate for gifting. Then he recalled the secret magical coffer. Inside it was, among other things, a talisman that he had kept as a souvenir. He reached into his belt, slipped the tiny coffer out, and touched it so that it would open. He had no fear of the water, for despite its everpresence, no drop of it wetted his garments or actually touched his skin.
As the container unlocked itself, it grew. The undine laughed and clapped her hands as it expanded before her eyes into a lovely vessel of inlaid wood and ivory fully large enough to hold a small fortune in treasure. "I only wish I had placed my good mail shirt herein," Gord said ruefully as he viewed the interior. There were only a few small items inside, a battered old box being the largest. This was a relic from his childhood. He had never been able to fathom its secrets, but he was sure it was somehow something important to him. For the moment, he passed it over in favor of one of the smaller items.
"Here, Kharistylla," he said with feeling, "I give this to you." He picked up a little pouch of some exotic skin and withdrew from it an amber piece of cabo-chon form. Inside the golden oval was a spider.
That is lovely!" the undine exclaimed. "And it is a potent talisman too. How came you by such a piece?"
That is a long tale, dear lady of the sea, and one which by your own words we have no time for. Suffice to say that I gained it and kept it at great personal peril. For a time my liege lord, Rexfelis, made use of it — I paid it over to him by his demand for a favor. Then one day he simply restored it to me without a word of explanation. No matter, for now it is yours."
Kharistylla kissed him with her perfect, coral-red lips, then laughed. "I shall keep it and treasure it. Perhaps you do not realize it, but such a thing as this extends my power no small amount. With it, I can move upon the sphere of earth, metal, or wood. Better still, I can walk unhindered on the material plane for as long as I choose — even to dwell in a city among men such as you will pose no problem to me with this!"
Gord was happy that he had pleased the undine with the gift. "Perhaps we will then meet in Grey-hawk," he suggested.
Kharistylla gave him a sorrowful smile. "Nay, that I see not. Yet, perhaps somewhere... but there is more, dear Gord! Your Rexfelis is a deep one, he is. This he gave to you for a reason beyond mere generosity, I think. A single touch of your belt, earlier, told me that."
"What do you mean, Kharistylla?"
"The amulet will serve to open a portal for you to your liege lord's place. He bestowed such dweomer to it in most puissant form before returning it to you, that is clear."
"I will remember to thank him when I see him," Gord said dryly. "Now let us enjoy the last of the time remaining between us here." That the undine was most happy to agree to.
Chapter 2
THE FLANAESS SHOOK to the tread of marching armies. The land writhed under the lash of fire and sword, spell and conjured monster, as its creatures fled the bellow of iron horns and the boom of thundering drums. The hordes of the cambion Iuz were on the move, and their advance was as inexorable as the march of time.
The attack had begun abruptly, without warning. The masses of humanoids from the land of Iuz had swarmed forth to bring death and destruction to all who opposed the cambion. Their massing had been veiled by the great powers of Iggwilv, the mother of all black witches, and the demon queen Zuggtmoy. The two of them and Iuz controlled the evil magic of the Initiator, the middle portion of the Theorpart, one of the keys to the loosing of all wickedness, and they used it well.
The Vesve Forest was taken; then the lands beyond its western verge, all the way south to the Velverdyva River, fell to the invaders. From forest and mountains came swarms of evil creatures to join the victorious forces of the cambion. The great walls and men of the city of Chendl barred the advance into Furyondy's heartland, but the northern part of that kingdom was gone, and grinning orcs and slobbering gnolls roamed freely north of the Crystal River.
Legions of troops swept through the Horned Society, the lands that had formerly bowed to the Hierarchs, and into the Shield Lands. Not even the vaunted Knights of the Shield could prevail against the forces of Iuz, and the survivors among that number huddled on their fortress island in the Nyr Dyv, praying that the waters of that lake would protect them.
Far to the east the story was much the same. The haughty men of Tenh died bravely in defense of their country, but they died in vain, for bandits, mercenaries, and the newly allied warbands from the Barrens rode across the sovereign ducal state in mere weeks. Trolls from the fens and ogres and giants from the high mountains Joined in their destruction of that land.
Thereafter all of the north bowed fully to the cambion. Fierce horse nomads rode beneath the wolf-head standard to threaten their southern neighbor, while those who followed the great tiger banner made war in Iuz's vile name farther to the west. Fierce men of the Hold of Stonefist marched south to join the humanoids and the army of bandits threatening the Theocracy of the Pale. The demon armies held bridgeheads that were like swords poised above Urnst, stabbing Furyondy's flank, and the elven state of Highfolk.
The Flanaess reeled, and councils met. How could such a thing have occurred? What defense or counterattack could be made? Then the armies of the Great Kingdom in the south, and the Scarlet Brotherhood's disciplined regiments too, attacked northward. All thought of a counter of Tensive was hurled to the winds. Nyrond, its friends and allies, and the few other unconquered free states of the Flanaess knew that their survival now stood in question. The evil that served devils advanced northward in counter point to the demon-serving hordes that rolled south. All good was caught between these two, and there was growing despair in the land.
The evil of the south was weak. Its greatest force, the Theorpart known as the Awakener, was no longer In their hands. Its might had been requisitioned by the Dukes of Hell, and there is no recourse to their demands. The evil of the north, that of witch, demon and cambion demigod, was great, for the malign strength of the Initiator was theirs to use. The Final Key, the Unbinder, was held by the lords of the Abyss, and so while the denizens of the hells used one portion of the evil relic to fight against the demon hosts that threatened them on otherworldly planes, Iuz was free to use his own Theorpart to crush all who dared oppose his will.
While men and demihumans and humanolds made war in and on the Flanaess, all of the netherworld likewise fought in that domain. The albino demon lord Vuron led the demons' attack upon those who would wrest the Theorpart from his liege, Graz'zt. His genius was great, and the swarming demon creatures who obeyed Vuron's commands overran their foes time after time. Up from the unspeakable depths of the Abyss swarmed more and more demons eager to serve. More and more of the lords of the Abyss named Graz'zt as monarch of their foul plane. Only the mightiest of the princes — Zortolagon, Orcus, Mandrillagon, and Ushablator the Chaos Horror — remained opposed to the new king. Of course they fought each other as well as Graz'zt, so although those who refused fealty commanded fully half of all demoniacal power, their own factiousness made them Impotent.
Vuron strode across the pitchy plane of Tarterus and hammered on the gates of Hades itself. Cacodaemons from Pandemonium marched with daemon and demon under Vuron's command. There they were met by the legions of the hells, now likewise armed with a mighty instrument of evil, and Nerull's glooms shook under the impact of the crash of devil and demon ranks colliding.
The gods of Weal then fell upon the marches of the Nine Hells, harried Pandemonium, and brought destruction to any sort of evil found campaigning outside its own black realm. Some assistance too they gave to the men and demihumans of Oerth, but none of it was enough. The lords of light themselves were at odds, and Iuz's strength was too great for anything but a completely unified opposition.
The very stuff of creation groaned under the weight of the magic and power unleashed in the manifold battles across space, time, and probability. On the gameboard of the multiverse, the pawns and pieces of black swept outward to slay those of dull purple, rust red, and other colors. Those of gold captured pieces of tawny and red, while the forces of white fell upon gray, and the blue position remained aloof. Huddled in the center, the little array of emerald warriors formed itself into a ring and waited.
The One of Greatest Evil still lay comatose, fettered, and locked in unbreachable imprisonment. Perhaps the incarceration would not last forever, yet at the moment there seemed to be no need for his release. Fear and terror, strife and slaughter, reigned everywhere, and the malign was surely coming into ascendance. All portions of the Theorpart were in play now; conjoined or not, their evil influence was growing ever stronger, more pervasive. Perhaps this darkness was what kept the forces of Good from uniting. At any rate, that was not a topic for debate. The only fact that mattered was that demoniacal hordes were marching triumphantly, both on Oerth and throughout the planes of the netherworld.
* * *
"An emissary from Hades is here, dread master."
Vuron gave his full attention to the ahazu-demon who addressed him. The lank, long-armed monster was known as Talonclasp. The demon's ability was great, and Vuron had recently promoted the ahazu to command of the Cacodaemon Horde. The force was still posted as his own guard, so the ahazu-demon was remaining as Vuron's chief of staff until the cacodaemons were moved into combat.
"Emissary?" Vuron asked with a sneer. "What minion of Nerull dares venture into my hand so?"
Talonclasp managed to meet the pink eyes of the albino demon lord without submissiveness or challenge evident in his own gaze. "The netherhag Sekculintig is the visitor. Lord Vuron. She is coven-mistress of all—"
"Yes, yes. I know who the hag is, and I am aware of her power as well," the albino interrupted. "Now why would Nerull send her... or has she come of her own volition?" The question was obviously Vuron's way of thinking aloud, so the ahazu stood rigidly silent. Vuron noted this and approved. "Did she volunteer anything. Talonclasp?"
"No, dread master. The hag simply commanded that I announce her to you personally."
"As I had presumed," Vuron said with a trace of satisfaction. "You performed with precise duty, aha-zu, which is rare in any sort of demon, let alone your ilk. You have confirmed your merit. Fetch the hag to me, then make certain none other disturbs us."
"Yes, my lord," said Talonclasp as he exited. In a second he and the emissary were back in the brazen pavilion that housed the Master of the Hordes in the field. Immediately upon announcing the arrival of the hag, the ahazu-demon was away again, and Sekculintig and Vuron stood confronting one another. The hag knew she was expected to speak first, and so she did.
"Greetings, you pale and sexless lump of shit," she said.
"And to you, ugly heap of putrescence which not even a disease-crazed goat would copulate with." Vuron countered.
That made Sekculintig cackle with mirth. "You are so good at clever comebacks, whitey!"
"You inspire that in all, I think," the albino demon lord said dryly. "But let us put pleasantries aside and get down to pressing matters — such as why you have placed your worthless being into my grasp!"
The hag cackled maniacally again, the sound reverberating horribly inside the vast metal space of the pavilion. "Are you so sure of your powers?" she said snidely. "Perhaps the Empress of Hags has something up her sleeve, eh?"
The great demon's hand reached for an ebon ziggurat on the stand next to him. "Say something meaningful, hag, or I shall terminate this interview."
"You are unlike others of the Abyss, Vuron," Sekculintig fairly purred in response. "You are greater... and could be more so!"
"Is that so?" the albino said without emotion.
"Oh, yes, Vuron. That you know. I would not dare to try to lie to you in the very nexus of your strength. I am here on behalf of Infestix and all those who support the Ultimate One of Nullity. The dukes of the hells vie, each seeking the honor of serving as Tharizdun's left hand. Infestix sends me to offer the honor to you!"
Tharizdun is still bound," spat Vuron. "And is Nerull so sure he is the right hand that he can offer the left?" The demon lord purposely would not use Infestix's true name, preferring to refer to the lord of Hades by the name he used for his avatar on the plane of Oerth. Some used the names interchangeably, but Vuron considered "Nerull" to be of lesser status than "Infestix" and so made the distinction.
The hag fought to control her rage, suppress her anxiety. If she could somehow convince the albino demon lord to turn his coat and support Hades, then she would certainly become the right hand of Infestix. But Sekculintig herself would be in jeopardy if she failed in persuading Vuron to take up the cause of Tharizdun. The slumber is broken, pale lord. The confines weaken and the shackles corrode, for the artifact is active."
She let that sink in for a moment, then Sekculintig crooned on. "None can deny that Infestix leads the array who will free the Darkest, so is there any question as to which of Evil's princes will be placed on the right?"
"Perhaps. What merit places me on the left?"
"Without you the demons will splinter and offer no resistance. You, and the Theorpart you wield, would bring the matter into swift resolution!"
"I am one weak lord amongst a myriad of great demons." Vuron offered, slyly watching the coven-mistress of hags.
"Don't try to beguile me, you colorless maggot! Has not Graz'zt granted you fully a tithe of his power? And the six and sixty greater and lesser who bow to that inky shoat have likewise allowed trickles of their puissance to flow to you. How can you portray yourself as weak? Turds fall from your silly mouth!"