"The Abat-dolor have nine lords over them," Leda said without looking directly at Gord. "There is also a great one who rules the nine. . . ."
"The Abat-dolor?" Gellor asked. "I cannot recall ever learning of such demons as that race."
"Graz'zt is one," Leda finally admitted.
Chapter 7
THE SOULLESS SOUNDING PIERCED the very heart of iyondagur, to the place where the ruler of the realm dwelled. When Leda informed him and Gellor of what the Abat-dolor were, what their heritage was, Gord didn't hesitate longer. Taking the dark elfs arm and motioning to Gellor, the young champion stepped out of the channel and onto the tier of the ebon race of humanlike demons. "I will take the lead in any discourse," Gord told his companions. "Follow what I say — especially you, my love. These demons will know who you are, I think."
"Oh yes, that they will," Leda confirmed. "Elazalag holds great enmity for my . . . King Graz'zt."
Gord shrugged, then smiled thinly. "So much the better, I think." They emerged from the distorted passage just then and found themselves squarely in the middle of a great plaza. "And what is this?" he asked Leda as he peered around at the frowning facades of hewn stone blocks that hedged the irregularly shaped area. -
"This is the outer courtyard of Elazalag"s fortress, Gord. The Sounding conveys only important visitors or great foes to iyondagur. The leader of the Abatdolor clans desires to welcome either properly."
"I see the committee of greetings," Gellor noted dryly as squads of obsidian-skinned demons suddenly sprang into view along the parapets that topped the walls of the square.
The Abat-dolor much resembled humankind, or drow, although these demons were taller than elves or men. It was difficult to tell at a distance, but Gord estimated that each of the guards was seven or eight feet tall. The metallic sheen of polished red bronze highlighted each indIvidual soldier around the battlements. Helm, cuirass, and a full panoply of plate armor bedecked each of these warriors of the Abyss. Most were armed as would be human soldiers, with swords, spears, and thick-stocked arbalests. Some, though, were manning dark tubes, things that they swiveled to point at the three intruders in their midst, while others of these cylinders were being aimed at the air above them.
"The guards will not attack until ordered," Leda assured her companions, noting the worried looks both men wore as they observed the warlike preparations surrounding them.
"What manner of arms are those long pipes?" the bard asked.
"Weapons of great potency and last resort," Leda supplied. "Those tubes discharge things taken from the antisphere. Gaining such material is dangerous and costly, so Elazalag herself will order the release, and then only in extremis. The stuff is deadly. If we are caught by a stream of it, we will be destroyed in a great implosion as the negative stuff drains us away to nothingness."
Gord was as interested in her statement about the ruler of iyondagur being female as he was in Leda's explanation of the powers of the tubes. Before he could inquire further, though, there was a booming noise as if iron rods were being pounded on a hollow floor of wood, and immediately thereafter came a raucous hooting as if multitoned horns of deep timbre and high tone were sounded, en masse, and by the lungs of giants. The very stones shook at the blasts, and thinking was near impossible. No sound could be heard above the noise. Then a deeper grumbling roar managed to penetrate the horns' cacophony. Gord turned and saw a massive portcullis being raised simultaneously with the lowering of what could only be a solid stone drawbridge.
"These demons are most rapid in their preparations," Gellor said. His voice sounded loudly in the now still square. "And now comes the herald!"
Through the opening in the walls around them rode a massive Abat-dolor. He was astride a demonbeast, a parody of a horse, a steed with eight thick legs and with a muzzle spiked as that of a black rhinoceros. "I thought the hippokeres was a savage monster. . . ." Gord said in uncertain voice.
"That it is," Leda replied. "Even these demons are able to capture and tame but a few of the smaller of their sort. They are demon-beasts which inhabit the tiers lower down."
"And the rider?"
"Elazalag"s herald and chief warrior, the Lord Nisroch, Gord. They are uncertain of who and what we are, I see," she added in a near-whisper. "The Nine Chevaliers accompany Nisroch. and the great chariot behind them bears Princess Elazalag herself." She was about to say something further, but the stentorian bellow of the demon-herald's voice cut Leda short.
"Upon your bellies in fear of lethal Elazalag and her rage!" commanded the bellowing herald. Gellor inclined his upper body a fraction. Leda smiled as she cast her head slightly downward, as if to conceal her mirth. Gord stood absolutely still. Nisroch seemed not to notice the failure on the part of all three to obey. Instead the big demon went on with his bellowing. "Helpless sacrifices to our ruler's displeasure, you have the space of a hundred beats of your heart to state your last words. You, drow bitch who yaps at Graz'zt's heels! Cry out why you give yourself and the lives of the human and . . ." The herald trailed off for but a split-second, confused at what to call Gord. He was quick to pick up again, saying ". . . the little cockroach trembling behind a mask of dweomers."
Before Leda could respond in any fashion, Gord strode one pace forward. "I, cockroach though I am, speak for all three here." There was mockery in his tone, a Jape at the vaunted herald of the princess of the Abat-dolor for his obvious inability to discern Just who and what Gord was. "You address my associates as Lord and Lady, demon, and 'Sir' will suffice for me. We have come to offer you the opportunity of defeating your foes."
As if that were a cue, the spike-encrusted chariot of black adamantite came up with a rumble and a clank the three monstrous hippokeres drawing it snarling and snorting as the iron chains that controlled them were yanked back to force star-pointed bits into the beasts' metal-hard mouths. Riding alone in the vehicle was a smaller, elegantly armored female Abat-dolor, quite beautiful as far as Gord could tell, what with the coif of dark chainmail and adamantite helmet shielding much of the demon princess's face from view, just as the hard plates of that metal hid her form. She was smaller than the herald or the guards, but still the demoness was fully seven feet tall, and her voice sounded nearly as loud as that of Nisroch. "Liar and spy! I claim your life for my own!" The contralto voice of Elazalag rang out over the hushed space.
Gord never flinched as the demoness's arm swung forward, and the chain-borne star of wickedly sharp hooks lashed down at him with deadly speed and force. Some inner sense told him that this was no real threat. The shadow armor took the force of the adamantite chain and curved knives, deflecting and absorbing the blow. It was as if nothing had struck him, nothing at all. There was a gasp from Leda; Gellor grunted, and then a susurration of similar sounds of amazement came from the encircling demons.
"I am no liar, no spy," said Gord evenly, "and I can help you vanquish the enemy now invading this place as easily as my armor turned away your mighty blow. Mistress of the Abat-dolor."
There was a basso curse from Nisroch and the sound of weapons being drawn as herald and demon knights unsheathed their blades. There was no doubt that the small fellow's bland statement and calm were insults of the most heinous sort, and they would teach the outlander — human or otherwise — what it meant to denigrate the greatest of demon races! Elazalag herself stopped them from such folly. "Hold, Nisroch! Cease, guards! Are you boorixtroi? This is not an opponent for such as you to face," the demoness added as she stared hard at Gord. "Withdraw to the gate," Elazalag commanded. "I will remain alone to treat with these strangers."
Nisroch's eyes burned with green fire as he hesitated, glaring at the three interlopers. The demon was obviously shamed and humiliated. The nine great Chevaliers of the Abat-dolor court likewise hesitated, knotting closely behind the herald. Then the warriors saw their princess's own anger. It was directed at them. Nisroch dropped his gaze, bowed, and turned his mount. For a minute, normal speech was impossible over the thunder of the hippokeres' iron hooves as their riders spurred them back to the gateway.
"Very wise, ruler of the Abat-dolor," Gord said when the din had subsided. He had not taken his own eyes from the tall demoness. "One thing more, though, Princess Elazalag. Please don't try to spray us with discharges of negativity from your black tubes surrounding us. It won't work, and I would then have to exact revenge."
"Just who and what are you?" the six-fingered demoness asked. "That you know the nature of our defenses is unremarkable. Graz'zt's little drow has certainty informed you of such. But you are not right, somehow — neither man nor demon, despite the aura of dark chaos which enwraps you."
"Does it really matter who I am. If I can aid the Abat-dolor in retaining their land and freedom and lives?" Gord said. He expected no answer, and the young champion of Balance waited, for none. "I care nothing for you and your kind, of course. The enemy who threatens you happens to be my foe, too. I plan to destroy that enemy's power, and in the process your precious iyondagur will be cleansed of invaders. You will continue to rule, and my companions and I will be gone."
"Run back to the dungheap's stronghold, perhaps? Or do you seek to cozen me into some trap?" Elazalag shot back "It was just brought to my attention that my realm has been invaded. You three, then, must either be agents of Graz'zt or of the invaders. Either case is sufficient to condemn you to whatever slow death I can devise!"
"Please come here, Lady Leda," Gord said with a clear voice, still keeping his eyes fixed on the demoness. The dark elf stepped beside him hesitantly. "Thank you," Gord said, turning and flashing a warm smile at Leda. "Please be so kind as to display to the princess of the Abat-dolor what it is you hold ready."
For a moment Leda wanted to run away. To do that she would have to use the Eye first, however. Play its forces upon Gord and the rotten Elazalag. then utilize its power to move from the courtyard back to the Soulless Sounding. This object was Graz'zt's by all rights, and neither Gord nor the demon princess could claim otherwise. While such thoughts flashed through her mind, Leda stepped another pace forward, so that she stood just slightly ahead of the gray-eyed man clad in shadow armor and elfin mail.
As she drew the Eye of Deception from its enchanted covering, dark energies seemed to play back and forth between the smoke-colored sphere and the pommel of Courflamme, sheathed at Gord's left hip and near to Leda. Ignoring her own thoughts and desires, heedless of the forces that darted round, the drow priestess lifted the sphere with her right hand. presenting its pupil-like spot to Elazalag, allowing the demoness ruler of the Abat-dolor to view the fell thing from the most undesirable perspective — its business end, as it were. Then Leda spoke without direction from Gord or permission from this royal demoness.
"This, Elazalag of the Abat-dolor, Is just what it seems. I hold the Eye of Deception."
The demon princess's face paled to ashen hue upon seeing the glowing pupil of the thing. Elazalag knew all too well what terrible powers the wielder of the device could loose. "You may encase it again . . . Lady Eclavdra." The noble Abat-dolor managed to remain outwardly calm despite the very real threat — which she read in the draw's eyes, not in the greatest artifact of demon-power known to the Abyss. "Has your master sent you here to slay me? Or to serve against the incursions of my foes — and his?"
It was Gord who interjected before Leda could make any reply. "The lady does not serve Graz'zt any longer. Neither do I or my other companion, of course. We three are as one in serving a greater master. I tell you freely and openly, that cause is one which you and all of your demonfolk will gladly embrace, too."
"Really?" Elazalag sneered, her beautiful features distorting into true demoniacal form as she did so. The transformation was brief, but it helped remind Gord of what he faced. "Now I know you for a double liar, mankin. Despite the wildness of evils which enwraps you, I deem you an agent of the Hells and a friend of daemons!"
"And if you receive from me the Eye of Deception?"
Leda gasped aloud at Gord's words. Never would she permit this demoness to hold the Eye — not even if her love commanded it! As she was about to renounce such a thing he touched her shoulder, lightly, with a loving caress as would a man giving comfort to his own mate. Leda found herself unable to voice a protest, and then the wash of tenderness from Gord's touch flowed down her body, and for a moment she forgot the thought of it.
Elazalag's face stiffened into an unreadable mask. She stretched forth her hand from her platform. "Give me the thing, and then I will consider your words," she said without inflection.
"Not quite so easily or quickly," Gord countered. "There is only scant time for discourse, but I fear we must spend precious minutes doing so, you and I. It would be appropriate to invite us all into your castle immediately, so that we can arrange the details of the bargain."
"Bargain?"
"Yes. A bargain. Princess Elazalag. You and your Abat-dolor will accompany the three of us against the invaders. I will defeat their chief lords, strip them of their power. Thereafter I will reward you for your assistance in the matter with the gift of the Eye of Deception." As he told that to the tall demoness, Gord had shifted his position slightly, unnoticeably. At the last word he suddenly drew forth Courflamme. It was a motion too fast for even a demon's eye to follow. To the onlooking guards and soldiers it appeared only as if he drew and held the weapon forth before him as if in offering it to their ruler. In actuality, Gord touched Elazalag's open hand with the flat of Courflamme's blade in the process.
The contact with the strange blade of mixed crystal and jet sent a jolt into the demon princess's brain. freezing her for a split-second, then warming her much as Gord's touch had quelled the rebellion within Leda. It also brought Elazalag knowledge. Before her was one now eternal, a warrior once human, now one who fought against whatever forces might upset the balance of the multiverse. Implacable foe, unyielding Judge, indomitable in pursuit of his cause. All were true, and true as well were his words regarding the bargain. He cared naught for the Eye of Deception, not if his first opponents — and the deadly enemies of her and her demonfolk — were dealt with as he would have them done.