Between these two jaws lay the newly won kingdom of his lord Graz'zt. The bands and hordes guarding its frontiers were few, scattered, weak. The advancing adversaries would crack them like a nut in a vise. Vuron shouted an awful word of power. The scene vanished, and the whole secret chamber shook as it was drained by the magical utterance. The albino cared not. The place had served its purpose.
Vuron strode into the antechamber of Graz'zt's own suite in the royal wing of the sprawling palace. The massive guristhoi who served as the dark demon king's bodyguards tried to prevent the albino demon lord from entering. Steel-hard scales, colossal muscles, and fearsome attack powers were of no avail, of course. The tall, thin demon lord brushed the sentinels aside with a small gesture. His personal efficacy would have been sufficient alone, and Vuron still bore the massive infusion of the black force from the Theorpart as well. The guristhoi were frozen immobile instantly. The huge valves of hematite swung open at his approach, and the albino strode into the sanctum sanctorum of Graz'zt without heralding of other sort.
The six-fingered demon king sprang up from his couch. He had evidently been deep in discussion with certain of his advisors. The dark elf Eclavdra, his great high priestess, was there, as were Ogrijek, lord of the winged zubassu; the flame-demon Palvlag; and Nergal, the Justicier. Maps and papers littered the table around which their seats were clustered. "How dare you?" Graz'zt boomed. "This time, pale dog, you have gone too far!"
Vuron prostrated his thin body full length upon the mirror-polished jet slabs of the chamber floor, but almost as he so supplicated himself the albino was on his feet again. Unnaturally long arms waving, Vuron plunged ahead with what he had to do. Graz'zt actually turned pale at this, his ebon color fading to a dark ashen hue, for he saw what could only be the passes needed to summon power and use it. Vuron is here, thought Graz'zt, to assassinate me!
Graz'zt took a step back, and his hand grasped the icy metal of Unbinder desperately. "No, my liege!" Vuron shouted. "Look!"
The strange movements Vuron had completed caused a high-pitched twanging to fill the room, and at the same moment three-dimensional images appeared on either hand. "Behold the faces of your enemies, King Graz'zt!"
"Are you mad? Play you the gnomish buffoon, Vuron?!" Graz'zt barely glanced at the shadowy figures that moved and seemed to pantomime speech. The great demon had the Theorpart firmly in hand now and drew himself up to his full height, looming over even the tall albino.
"Send him to nothingness, great king!" The voice that urged Graz'zt to use the power of the evil artifact was that of Ogrijek.
"Please withhold your ire, my lord Graz'zt." came Eclavdra's clear voice sweetly. "Isn't that Iuz there, with Orcus?"
Lowering the conical device slowly, Graz'zt turned his gaze from the pink eyes of his albino warlord and steward to look where the dark-elf priestess was pointing. Sure enough, there was the cambion in his demoniacal form speaking with grand gestures to none other than the ram-headed king of vampires and their ilk. "What's this?" the demon king roared, again assailing Vuron with words. "You affront me with such scum in my own inner chambers?"
The nerve-jangling whine accompanying the ghostly images suddenly ceased and was replaced by a voice: "... to fall upon my gross and stupid sire and utterly crush him and all his vomit-sucking little—"
The bland face of the corpulent Orcus split, the woolly muzzle showing teeth appropriate to a shark's maw rather than that of so innocuous a creature as a sheep. "Silence!" the great demon bleated. There — see there! Phantom forms in the mist." Iuz's skin tone deepened from its light red to a fuchsia color, but nevertheless the cambion kept quiet and gazed in the direction Orcus indicated. Both appeared to be staring straight into Graz'zt's own eyes.
"An omen, and a potent one," hissed Iggwilv as she too stared. That the vapors rising from the Cyanic Fens should take the form of 'dear' Graz'zt even as we march for his stronghold is a great portent. We shall thus immerse him in such stuff when he falls into our hands!"
As this occurred, Vuron made further passes, and the perspective suddenly altered to one that was above the figures. This Graz'zt noted, even as his main attention stayed upon the trio. "Omen? My scepter tells me it was something more dire than a foretelling, witch," the gross Orcus said in his blaring baah. "Yet there is no sense of it now, and the apparition too has vanished...."
"Attend me, King of Unlife," Iuz said in his demanding tone. "I wield the uncheckable might of Initiator. With it, I... we all... will overthrow the usurper. If the Font of Witchdom says it is a portent, then so it is!"
Orcus made some sort of reply, but his voice died away as Graz'zt turned away from that tableau in order to observe the other phantasms elsewhere. His eyes fixed on Zuggtmoy in her repulsive fungoid form, with the equally disgusting slime lord Szhublox, chimerical Demogorgon, and the other vile demons who attended them. "We will divide all of the Abyss between us," Demogorgon's rasping hiss said clearly throughout the chamber, "and all who do not fight with us now will be subjected to final termination upon our victory!"
"Just so, Abyssal Prince," Zuggtmoy's booming, rotten voice sounded in agreement. "All that was the claim of Graz'zt, and the fiefs of his curs too, will be ours to divide."
"What of the high priestess Eclavdra?" Var-Az-Hloo asked. "I have heard of the drow's beauty and skills...."
"I think that none will say thee nay should you choose to claim her as booty, handsome one," the fungoid demon queen fairly chortled, "if she somehow survives the coming devastation of her lord and master's false kingdom!"
"Enough!" Graz'zt was a lightless blur, his form barely recognizable. Great energies were being drawn to him, and the effect was startling even to Vuron, who had done a similar feat not so long ago. "I see now that I was in error, my steward. When did you discover this?"
"But a short time ago, my king. I came without regard to protocol or heed for my own well-being."
Graz'zt snarled, but the ferocity was directed at the images of the demon enemies. "They make alliance against me because of Iggwilv's urging and the Theorpart's power. If the witch and her sprat had brought Initiator's might to me, the whole of the Abyss united could not oppose my will. They conjoin from fear and greed. Yet they
are
allied...."
"Dogs who snap and snarl at each other, mighty king," said Ogrijek, lord of the zubassu-demons, in his most ingratiating tone. "They will devour each other, great Graz'zt, if you will but assign me more hordes to oppose them. My winged killers alone are not enough!"
Palvlag, not to be outdone, urged that he and his flame-demons be assigned to a major position immediately so as to smash the coming attack, even as the Justicier, Nergal, being the most powerful of the trio, demanded that he be awarded command of both of them and their followers. The three-way debate was stopped short by Graz'zt.
"You three will all have important commands... under me! Get ready, for I go to crush Demogorgon and his pack of scum myself. Now get out! Be ready whenever I call. You, high priestess, stay here with Vuron. I will assign you duties now." Not daring to complain, let alone offer protest, the three demon lords skulked out, casting sidelong glares at Vuron and the drow Eclavdra.
Vuron spoke first after the trio had left. "I trust not the zubassu thegn— "
Trust!? I trust none... except my handmaiden, here, and you, Vuron. Now be silent, for I rule here. With Kostchtchie and that lot will I go. You, Vuron, will speed south even as I march north. Because you have employed the Theorpart so well, I again entrust its power to you. I have drawn strength aplenty from it, and I also have my sword and the Eye of Deception. Remember, though, steward, that I will always keep contact with Unbinder."
"And what is my assignment, my king?" Eclavdra asked.
To stand beside Vuron. To assist him, and to watch him too. Yeenoghu and a dozen others of power will also be there, but Vuron is to have overall command. You, Eclavdra, are his lieutenant and my watchdog."
The drow bowed her beautiful head in silent acceptance, showing nothing except that by so doing.
The albino demon likewise bowed in homage. "I hear and obey, king," Vuron muttered deferentially. Graz'zt actually smiled at the pale demon lord, his fiery green eyes snowing something as akin to true respect and friendship as is possible for such beings. Vuron saw that, bowed lower, and continued. "And if Iuz should come forth with his Theorpart?..."
The smile turned to a savage, wolfish snarl. "Ah, my steward, if I could only be there for such an event! Yet I am confident you will know how to deal with that gross idiot should that happen. It is the witch you must beware of most. Have care should she come forth!"
Both Vuron and Eclavdra nodded and started to depart. Graz'zt stopped them short with what seemed like an afterthought. "The full council will meet in one , hour. I had thought to discuss other matters.... Come with the rest, but both of you are to say nothing. Listen only. At the conclusion, you two will remain behind, for I will need your assessment of the lords present. As I told you, I trust none fully, most of that lot must be watched." Then Graz'zt left them, and his two closest servants quickly made their way to their own places to prepare.
Chapter 3
"THIS IS MOST UNEXPECTED...."
Gord spoke those words softly, and it was an understatement. A moment or two before, he had been in an undersea grotto with the undine Kharistylla. She had told him it was time. Time for what?" he had asked. Then, following her instructions, he had simply touched the amulet while thinking of Rexfelis the Catlord.
The beautiful undersea grotto and the even lovelier undine had suddenly wavered, become insubstantial, and for an instant Kharistylla's smiling eyes had seemed to become as large as saucers just before she vanished from his sight. Gord spoke, blinked, and shook his head, because he now stood before the assembled lords of Balance.
"He is changed," Basiliv the Demiurge said to no one in particular. Then, to Gord: "Welcome, prince. Leoceanius said we should expect you about now, and so here we stand gathered."
A murmur rose up from several of those in Rexfelis's private chamber. Of the score of powerful personages there, perhaps seven or eight had met and spoken with the young adventurer in the past. Among them were the Master Cat, of course; the Demiurge Basiliv, the archwizards Mordenkainen and Tenser and the King of Shadow.
"I present Gord," Rexfelis said formally, coming to the young man's aid. "Some of you have been introduced to the Prince of Panthers before this." Then he made introductions of some of those present whom the young adventurer had not met. "My Lords of the Cabal," he began, nodding to indicate four strange no-longer-humans near the back of the chamber. Then, sweeping his gaze and his arm slowly around the room, he named others. "Gord, this is the Master of Swords — perhaps a foster sire of yours, I think. Here is Lord Hewd, Lord Donal, Murlon, Lord Keogh, Venerable Yocasta, Venerable Nastan. And here is the Active Hand of Dweomer, the Archimage, of course, for the highest of magic never himself interferes...."
Demi-gods, quasi-deities, the most powerful of humans. Somehow, Kharistylla had found out exactly when he was supposed to make his appearance, and Leoceanius had played a role he was unaware of. The whole experience was simply too much for Gord to comprehend. "I... I... What is the problem? Am I being judged?" he blurted out.
"Droll fellow," the quasi-deity known as Lord Keogh drawled with barely suppressed mirth. "If that were the case, the whole lot of us would have to stand beside you."
"Yet, not a bad idea that," suggested the Mad One of Magic. "Let's round up those demi-humans — the elves, dwarves, gnomes, that whole lot — and stand trial together!"
"There's no point trying to find that bunch," Lord Hewd said, tugging absently at his little beard. "They're all off fighting against demons and devils, you know."
Shadowking raised a dark eyebrow at that exchange, and Rexfelis seemed about to interject something, but the four Hierophants of the Cabal spoke in unison. "Enough, sirs!" they said. Then one of them continued. This young prince is true and truly puzzled. Let us deal with matters at hand in a fashion likely to produce results, ere we find ourselves grappling with fiends from the nether regions ourselves!"
Thank you, my lords," Gord said to the Hierophants after an audible swallow of relief. "I have had to face demons and devils before, and I think even this assemblage is preferable to that."
Too bad, too bad," caroled the Mad Archimage. "We're here to see that you do just that!"
At that the Catlord took a hand. "I apologize, Prince Gord," he said formally. Then he took the young man by his arm and steered him to a nearby chair. Rexfelis pushed Gord down, seated himself in the next tall chair, and waved casually to the others to take their positions. "Let us all take our places, and I shall explain to our champion what is to take place. Agreed?"
There were various spoken and unspoken assents, and in a moment or two the whole strange assembly, the gathering that included the majority of the powers who represented Balance, was seated in a semicircle in the large, low-ceilinged chamber. Thank you all, lords and ladies," Rexfelis intoned. "Hear what I have to tell to Gord of Greyhawk, acknowledged by me and you all as a peer, titled the Prince of Panthers by birthright and by virtue of accomplishment such that none may question."
"Hear, hear!"
"Get on with it!"
Gord was now more confused than before, and at the same time a bit excited. What was this about "birthright"? Perhaps, for some reason he could not fathom, he was finally about to learn of his heritage. But he and Rexfelis had spent long hours together before this, and surely the Catlord had already told him all there was to tell. Gord held his tongue, but his mind reeled. He dared not hope, but could not keep from doing so....
The Catlord gave cold looks to both who had spoken, first Basiliv and second the crotchety old Mordenkainen. He cleared his throat with a sound that was a cross between a purr and a growl, then continued. "As you know, Gord has served the cause of Balance for longer than he has realized, but actively and most willingly of late. In recognition and explanation of his services, I have acknowledged his heritage to some of you. I now tell this to the rest of you, and Gord himself, for the first time: His father, my own great-grandson, was the sole heir of my kind's Seventh House. By birthright and his own deeds he has fully earned that heirship... and more. That is another story, however. I will stick with the business our council has before it."