Respectfully, Gord nodded, but then said, "Just as I learned when I played at being the unknown cat burglar, lord, I can learn quickly from instruction as well as my own experience. Please give me a little credit."
"Gord— " the troubador started to admonish.
Holding his hand up to stay that, Rexfelis interrupted. "Yes. You are right, and I am condescending toward you as if you were a cub, not champion of Balance. Do allow yourself time for introspection and meditation whenever possible. You will handle all far better then."
"That I will certainty do. We must practice much, alone and together, Gellor and I. The new strengths and abilities must be tested, gauged, and studied so that we can control them."
"I will keep my eye on him . . . perhaps even the enchanted one, lord," the troubador said only half in jest.
"So . . good! Excellent! Let's eat and drink now. There'll be no time later. This is the last opportunity we have before what is to be, at best, a long separation. There are too few such times!" And without further ado, Rexfelis set to as an example. Both men quickly followed suit.
Later, after eating much, but before finishing all that was to be drunk the Catlord observed, "From the way you demolished the viands, I have no fear when you face the enemy. If you handle demons and devils in such fashion, there will be none left!" Gord and Gellor laughed in agreement, for they had indeed fallen savagely upon the food. "Seriously, my friends, I see in you the power to send your foes flying in fear, the strength to deal with the darkest of the netherworld. That blade of yours," he said to Gord, looking him in the eyes. "Courflamme. It is the essence of our cause, and the most potent thing Balance has ever wielded. Have a care, though, for it may avail you naught against Tharizdun."
Despite drink those last words stayed in the forefront of Gord's thoughts as he went to sleep many hours later.
Chapter 2
ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND and more men under arms marched through the Great Kingdom. Before these soldiers swarmed yet more thousands of vicious humanoid scouts and irregulars. The clash of steel and the tramp of hooves and iron-shod feet rang everywhere from the streets and courtyards of Rauxes, the kingdom's capital, to the far reaches of the empire.
No neighbor of the Overking's trembled, though. The Great Kingdom was torn by rebellion and internal strife. North Province and South were leagued to overthrow their monarch, while the Medegian army tore at the border marches, meaning to wrest them from the Overking while he was occupied elsewhere.
Did the other states of the eastern Flanaess rejoice, then? To the contrary — Nyrond, Almor, and the other northern neighbors of Overking Ivid were embroiled in their own disputes. Quarrels and skirmishes were rife. Open warfare loomed. So too in the south. Civil disturbances, banditry, and seafaring raiders made the lands of Sunndi, Irongate, and all the others red with fire and blood. Even the barbaric kingdoms to the far north, the Flan states, and the nomads of the west were embroiled in one form of strife or another. All of the continent of Oerik in fact, was in turmoil. At best, there was unrest; at worst, armed hosts clashed and slaughtered and wrought destruction.
This illness brought advantage to no one. not even the evil ones who sought to gain from it Whether allied to demons or devils, whether the conglomerate empire hammered together by the half-demon Iuz or the scheming forces of the Scarlet Brotherhood, the forces of Evil could garner no profit from the madness that seemed to sweep over the world. If their enemies were torn by factiousness, so too were the hosts of the netherworlds as they sought to conquer.
In the deadly game being played out on Oerth, attrition was the sole benefactor. Creatures died, fire and storm wrought havoc, famine and plague spread. As if in protest at the fighting, or perhaps in harmony with the desire for extinction, the very planet itself brought forth devastation. Freak weather, cold or hot, flood or drought, conjoined with tempests and tornadoes to decimate whole regions. Earthquakes tore gashes and leveled cities, while old volcanoes thundered to life after centuries of slumber and new eruptions built ever larger blotches of desolation.
Even those states whose military forces gained victories found their borders contracting. With their resources, populations, and strength of government dwindling, there was no way for conquerors to maintain control. Cartographers in the court might redraw maps to show extended territories, but in actuality the writ of each prince shrank to little more than the territory which he and his soldiers happened to occupy at the moment.
With such turmoil occurring, trade withered. Land and sea commerce dwindled. With markets gone and food scarce, people began reverting to subsistence activity: find enough to eat, avoid being slain by soldiers, bandits, or monsters, and be ready to take what could be taken if the opportunity arose.
On that portion of the cosmic game board that was Oerth, the little figures remaining in play became fewer and fewer, while the squares upon which they had stood altered to show ruin and wilderness. A whole continent disappeared under the waves. The waters rose. The form of Oerik shrank, and its coastline moved inland.
All of the multiverse was afflicted to some degree. Far-removed worlds, alternates of Oerth, were in flux; star-roving beings fought with others over galactic empires; entities combated with one another over planes and dimensions unimaginable to most humans. Woe was everywhere and every when. The darkness of Evil spread to stain all, yet its minions grew no greater. Evil pervaded the cosmos, but as it spread it thinned and grew tenuous in its power.
The vast disaster brought only sorrow and death. This condition was perceived by the lords of all the warring factions, but even they could do nothing about what was occurring. At least, they could do nothing short of ceasing their warfare — and that, of course, was unthinkable. Could the bright minions of Weal ever rest until dark Evil was destroyed? Never! So too, the ordered phalanxes of Law had only one reason for existence: the extinction of Chaos's wild realms. If no advantage was to be gained, then ideology became paramount. Each infinite cause continued to struggle in its contention with that it opposed.
All losses, no gains, and the very stuff of the multiverse turned inward and began to consume itself.
At the nadir of the nether spheres, Infestix saw the dire course that was unfolding. He raved and raged and redoubled his efforts to bring the pieces of the great relic together. Reasoning that only Ultimate Evil could redress things, Infestix brought more diabolic aid to the war in the Abyss at great personal cost to himself, promising the dukes of the Hells much in return for their reinforcements. Similarly, the Master of the Pits scraped the gloomy planes of Hades for fodder, sending regiment after regiment of hordlings, daemons, and mixed bodies of dreggals and dumalduns to be slaughtered in the fight.
Although the massive influx of evil soldiery had its effect upon the tide of the war, there were repercussions. The higher spheres saw the destruction occurring on all levels of the cosmos and attributed it to the proximity of the three parts of the malign artifact. Solars, planetars, and companies of devas, unable to strike directly in the realms of demonkind, roamed the channels between the lower planes, ambushing all Evil they encountered there. The slaughter was great, and soon only the most powerful of dark beings could travel these areas; lesser devils and daemons, for example, were destroyed by the roving minions of the spheres of Good.
Although the lords of the Hells were much disturbed at this turn, Infestix himself was pleased. The troops he had already moved into the Abyss, committed to his fight against Graz'zt and the allies of the demon king, were now consigned to the fray for an indefinite period. They had no real choice; to fight there and die at the hand of others of Evil was preferable to being destroyed hideously by shining squads of devas and their even greater officers.
The arrival of Infestix's minions actually brought some relief to Graz'zt. Other demon lords who had been wavering, thinking about throwing their force against Graz'zt, resented the intrusion into their domain by outsiders. Thus, they ultimately decided to remain neutral or elected to side with the ebon demonking. The weak rulers of Pandemonium were moved to send cacodemon conscripts to the assistance of Graz'zt. The reinforcements Graz'zt had thus gained saved his horde from prompt annihilation, but he remained ringed by enemies.
The great, black-hued demon dug in and prepared for the worst. The sole portion of the relic he possessed, even along with the Eye of Deception, a mighty magical artifact of malign force, was insufficient to stave off the two parts of the key that his foes now wielded against him. Magical as well as numerical superiority meant that only time stood between the advancing enemies and their victory. Graz'zt determined to make them pay dearly, though. He conducted a brilliant defense, in large part thanks to his marshal, Vuron, and the dark elven high priestess called Eclavdra.
Then the invading force became divided. Iuz, backed by Iggwilv, the Eldest Witch, and Zuggtmoy, the demoness Queen of Fungi, demanded that his armies be the ones to march into the heart of Graz'zt's realm. When Demogorgon, Mandrillagon, and their captains objected, desiring the honor for themselves, Orcus threw in his lot with the cambion Iuz, for he was ever opposed to Demogorgon's aims. Thus the besieging host was suddenly split into contending halves, and their Theorparts, their one-third portions of the relic of all Evil, opposed each other.
Back came the regiments of the ebon king of the Abyss. With his own Theorpart now able to neutralize the forces of the contending thirds held by his enemies, Graz'zt used the Eye of Deception and a score of lesser magical objects along with his forces to crush spearheads of attackers, tear through their lines, destroy their bases, and totally disrupt their advance. Soon the legions of devils, phalanxes of dreggals, daemon and hordling divisions, and all the rest too were pushed back and nearly off the plane that was the heart of Graz'zt's empire.
"Now there is but one thing remaining," Graz'zt announced proudly to the assembled demon lords and generals of his array. "We will defeat the enemy in detail. First comes the two-headed dungheap calling itself Demogorgon. Then it will be the turn of the sprat, Iuz, my by-blow. That will be the culmination of my delight, and great will be my glee as he and his mother Iggwilv writhe in final agony under my hand!"
To counter the resurgence of Graz'zt's force, Infestix himself came to the Abyss with a deputation of the dukes of the Hells. The Netherlords of Acheron with their undead and maelvis were with him. Gehenna and Tarterus too were represented by their monarchs. By paying over objects of power, by promising and cajoling, the factious demons were reunited. Now outnumbering their encircled foe by six or better to one, and with an actual strength of at least twice Graz'zt's own, the reforged alliance closed its iron jaws once again, advancing slowly this time. Only after the ebon king of the Abyss was finished would they again allow their differences to surface.
Such events were mirrored elsewhere. On Oerth the tide of battle swung first one way, then the other. Dark-complexioned armies from the far south marched northward into the vacuum left by hordes of nomads riding eastward. There these southerners met even more numerous hosts of golden-skinned warriors, and both forces were bloodied uselessly, the lands they fought over despoiled. The nations of the central portion of the continent became battlegrounds, just as all the rest of Oerik had been. Here, though, as if in counterpoise, the companies of darkness were being driven back. The powers of Weal ceased their bickerings and united to form an effective front against Iuz, the Scarlet Brotherhood, and the daemon-worshipping wild folk of the great steppes of the west.
During all of this. Balance strived vainly to check Evil's advance into the spheres of neutral sort and, more importantly, to convince the lords of the spheres of Light to spend their power to thwart Hades, delay Infestix, and hinder the wielding of the Theorparts. But the forces of Light refused to cooperate; only Good can bring about a good end, they reasoned, and the urgings of the lords of neutrality went unheeded. Indeed, many of those greater ones who sought Weal were convinced that Balance was actually leagued with the dark powers. How else could Evil spread and grow? they asked. Thus, no small portion of the efforts of Good were expended against the neutral position.
On the phantasmal playing board of the cosmos, the pieces belonging to Light, the pawns of white and gold and blue, took material spaces and threatened the dark regions. Yet as they were so moved, their numbers shrank and there were fewer and fewer pieces to hold the territories and planes behind them. The blood-red and deep purple forces representing the Hells and Hades gathered in the nether planes to contest with the black masses of demonium, so few were their men moving on the spheres of Oerth and its sister worlds. These dark-hued pieces too were shrinking in number, but a shadowy one of massive size and unguessable power was forming deep within their lowest citadel. Expunge the inky rebels, brush aside the puny barrier of green, and carry the prize to Hades' nadir. Then would appear the great piece of All Evil, and it alone would be sufficient to sweep all other forces from the many-planed field.
Green forces, those pieces and pawns of Balance, were troublesome in their placement, true; but their numbers were steadily eroding, and the configuration of potent men showing were clustered impotently in an out-of-the-way corner of the multiverse. There was interference of a most annoying sort, cloudings that disrupted moves, made captures turn into exchanges, shifted squares so that key positions were suddenly compromised or shunted to less important regions. No matter, Infestix said to himself. Strike into the Abyss with all available forces. Gain the three keys. Then — ah, then! — Infestix himself would carry the great relic's portions back to his realm. He would personally unite them, and in an instant Tharizdun, Greatest of Darkness, would be loosed for all time.