Come Endless Darkness (12 page)

More thoughts were racing through his mind than he could cope with, more emotions were bathing his psyche than Gord had ever experienced. The sudden rush of information, of knowledge, and of purpose was too much. Where should he be? What should be done? How to accomplish what had to be done? Cold fear was deep within him: What if this all was an enormous lie? A dream? Or, worst of all, what if everything was true — but he proved unequal to the task? Also, he had to wonder why all this ritual and pomp was necessary now. There was so much more to learn, so many more important things to be done: What use was this revel?

The rest of the day was a blur for him. Lady Tirrip was there, but she was distant and formal instead of the warm, loving woman-cat she had once been with him. Equally stiff and reserved were all the others of catkind he had known before, whether as friend and companion or as rival. They were respectful, but distant and... afraid?

It occurred to Gord then that he was no longer like any of them at all, even Rexfelis. The infusion of power by the Lords of Balance, the words of that which called itself All and Nothing, his own commitment — all had combined to make him singular. There was no way he could relate to any of the others here. He was indeed a champion, and that set him apart. There was nothing to be done about it. Those who had identified, if not selected, him as the one to contest against the Ultimate Evil had set in motion a series of events that neither they nor he could reverse. The facts of his parentage and infancy, Gord's past life, the honors of the day: Each and every aspect of what had gone before and was now transpiring had no meaning to him except as they bore upon the thing to come.

At the stroke of midnight, Gord turned to the Catlord. Tour will in this matter has been accomplished, Lord Rexfelis. I thank you. I sense a new energy emanating from those folk here and flowing to me. For that too am I thankful. But I can bear this charade no longer. Now it is time for me to leave and seek the path which will bring me to the foe I am meant to confront. May I have your leave?"

"I..." Rexfelis looked with his own strange eyes into the deep, gray pools of his heir. There was such pain and purposeful resolve there that the Lord of Cats was unable to say more for a moment. Then he looked away. In his heart he felt deep sorrow for this one, one of his own, to whom had passed such a terrible burden. Rexfelis was sad that he himself had labored long and with exacting care to bestow that weight. That Rexfelis had not apportioned the fate, only recognized it, made little difference in the Catlord's feelings. "I grant it, of course, prince. You and I must meet again before you begin, though, for there is news of importance just arrived today."

"Why haven't you told me before now?"

The naming of you as my heir had to be accomplished, and done in the manner I myself set forth centuries ago."

Of course, the young man thought. Rexfelis had been master of all felines since there had been such a deity. Idly, Gord wondered why the Catlord would now find it desirable to abdicate. It was but a fleeting thought, one of little consequence under the circumstances. If Tharizdun triumphed, then there would be no Catlord, no heir. If Gord prevailed, it seemed quite likely to him that he would become something other than the new Lord of Cats. Odd.... "Very well. Let us go someplace where there is privacy."

By this time the celebration had become quite festive. It was not difficult for both of them to leave the hall unnoticed. Sovereign and crown prince notwithstanding, the noble folk of this realm meant to enjoy the proclaimed celebration to the full. Considering the heritage of all concerned, independence and general lack of interest in something so relatively insignificant as those two when compared to the food, drink, and company was indeed natural.

Shadowy galleries at either end of the hall provided space for many nonfeline attendees. Among them, incognito, were Basiliv and a host of others concerned with the coming duel. Several of these personages Joined them as Gord and Rexfelis headed along the corridor leading from the great room to one of the Catlord's quiet chambers.

"Have you news for us. Demiurge?"

Basiliv nodded, but somberly. "My agents discovered that
Silver Seeker
put into port at Telmstrand and then sailed for the Wild Coast. As that place is beyond my sphere, so to speak, I passed the information along to the Lesser Hierophants."

"That is where I was called in." The voice was familiar, and Gord turned quickly to see if his ears were deceiving him. "Congratulations,
Prince
Gord," Gellor said with a slight bow and a big smile quickly hidden by the inclination of his head.

"You one-eyed devil!" Gord cried. Then he stepped over and hugged the sinewy body of the grizzled troubador, forgetting decorum entirely. "Where have you been? Are you well?"

"Time for that later, please," Rexfelis said curtly. "You urged this matter on. Gord. You must now accept the consequences."

"Urged? I
am
the matter, as far as everyone is concerned. If I opt to tarry with an old comrade, then all of you will have to wait until I've decided otherwise!"

Gellor shook his head slightly. "You are right, my friend, but so is your grandsire. There will be time for personal talk later — and with other old friends besides myself — but now we should stick to the affair of the
Silver Seeker
and your sword." He looked at the young face, noting that the gray eyes had darkened somehow and aged. They were older now, as old as the world, and there was no youthfulness or thoughtless Joy there, none of the recklessness that had made him a gallant thief and carefree adventurer. Gord returned the study, then nodded for Gellor to continue.

The druids of the Suss, and certain priests too, were sent word. They in turn passed information along to other agents of ours. We knew within hours of her dropping anchor that
Silver Seeker
and your shipmates were in Safe ton." Gellor paused a moment to shrug helplessly. "Information is one thing, decision is another. By the time word had reached us and we could hold council to decide how best to approach the captain — Barrel, I believe, was his name— "

"What do you mean,
was
?!" Gord's face was set in hard lines as he shot that interruption at Gellor.

"Oh... I am getting ahead of myself, and most stupidly so," the troubador said with a sigh. He reached across the little distance between himself and his friend and clasped Gord's forearm. Tour comrades came to grief, my friend. Now, please allow me to tell this in chronological fashion. I'll come all too soon to the part you want to hear.... What indeed you
must
hear."

"Go on, then." His voice was toneless, but Gord managed a small smile to show Gellor that he understood the difficulty of his comrade's position.

Gellor released his hold on Gord's arm and continued without haste, for precise detail was needed. "We were in council, and therein it was decided to have several of us go to the town and speak with the captain of the vessel and your associate Dohojar, the Changa."

Before Gellor could say more, Gord allowed himself to interrupt again. There was something he had to know, and it was an essential part of the whole. "How were you aware of Dohojar? Barrel? Even the ship?"

"All of our energies are not spent on watching the foe, Gord," Basiliv said. "You have been informed of our constant vigilance in the distant past, from the time you were but a babe. Can you doubt that we do not continue to observe at all times? After all— "

"I have protection against such intrusion," Gord said flatly.

"Of course, we cannot watch you directly, but events around you are sufficient indicators of your whereabouts and actions. Then a spy here, an informant there, and agents sent to a locale discover all the details. We have known who to watch exactly. Fortunately, the evil ones have only been able to suspect. What is known to Balance is barely guessed at by those of the netherrealms."

"Where was I?" Gellor said with a hint of irritation.

"Sending a delegation to see Barrel and Dohojar in Safeton." Gord supplied.

"Thank you. That is what was decided by the Lesser Hierophants. It took a while to round us all up — Chert, Greenleaf, and me. By the time we arrived in Safeton, the
Silver Seeker
had raised anchor and sailed away five days earlier. Fortunately, we quickly discovered that she had left with a man calling himself Graves, who claimed to be a river pilot able to navigate up the Selintan." The troubador raised a finger to make sure that Gord didn't interrupt him further. "Unfortunately, we also found out that the so-called pilot had paid a third party to get aboard the ship as its navigator; it seems the man wanted this particular job very much.

"It was easy to guess that your mates were making for Greyhawk, Gord. Obviously, they were heading north up the river for that destination. Presumably you had arranged to meet them in the city if you became separated, or you had arranged to Join up there at some given time. No matter.... We immediately sought out the chief one of Balance in Safeton, and she arranged for us to arrive in Greyhawk's vicinity within hours. The three of us were already inside the city's high walls when tragedy happened aboard your ship."

"Barrel is dead, then," Gord said heavily. It was a statement, not a question.

"Dead and worse. So too your Changa comrade, Dohojar. Both of them were slain ruthlessly by the pilot, the man calling himself Graves."

"How can you know for certain? If neither could be raised and both are still dead, then—"

"The murderer was careless. No, I should say that he was careless with one of his agents. There was a series of violent thunderstorms on the day that
Silver Seeker
came upriver to Greyhawk. The weather was so foul as to preclude docking at a quay or Jetty. The ship was taken on up into Hook Harbor, and when the sun rose in a clear sky next morning was seen riding peacefully at anchor there.

"One of our men told us that the customs officials of the city were going out to investigate her, so we immediately hired a wherryman to scull us out to the ship. We brought along someone of sufficient authority in the government to be sure there would be no problems for your shipmates. However, when we got alongside the vessel, there was no sign of life. The deck was empty and nobody answered our hail. We knew the customs cutter would be there soon, so all of us clambered aboard and sought someone to tell what was going on."

There was no sign of foul play?" Gord asked. "Not on deck," Gellor replied. "It was as clean as if just holystoned. Forward belowdecks it was the same — everything left as if the crewmen had stowed their gear and were standing by for inspection. But the aft cabins were a different tale, let me assure you. Violence and magic and pain. Each was etched there, and the remains of both of your comrades were left as they had fallen... or been slowly killed."

"Say on, and spare me no detail," the young champion said sternly. "Of this business I will know all."

Following came an exacting description of what Gellor and the others had observed and deduced. "Our personage from government was a cleric, one of both high standing and accomplishment. That priest used his powers to attempt a bringing back of both dead men. It was to no avail. Barrel and Dohojar had been sent past the veil from where they could be recalled. So too it was with normal questioning of that vibratory force that lingers after the spirit has gone.

"The venerable priest was not one to yield to evil so easily, though. He worked long and painstakingly to divine what had occurred, to gain a clue about what had transpired aboard
Silver Seeker.
He gained enough for us to follow a thread. As there was nothing else to do, no trace of your sword or other things you had left aboard, Gord, we removed both bodies quietly and buried them with proper rites there in the harbor's deep waters.

"Then, yesterday, we met with two other great spell-binders come to assist the priest in the tracing of the single thread he had gained. Mordenkainen, despite the pressures of the cambion's hordes attacking his lands, arrived by the use of certain objects and words given to him by the Demiurge. Tenser was present thanks to assistance directly from the Archimage himself.

"Carefully, so as not to arouse attention from watchers of the evil ones, the work was done. The clue was sufficient to reveal that a netherfiend was involved in the slaughter, and only a few of such monsters can be so employed. By careful selection and questioning of those beings who attend to the matter of transference through the portals that wend their way from the foul pits to the material worlds, it was discovered which fiend was involved."

"That one's name?" Gord demanded harshly.

"Krung. One of the most disgusting and potent of the thirty-three able to move out of the nether pits."

"Let us go to where you have it prisoned and force all from its vile throat!" Gord sprang to his feet and started for the door.

"Easy, my friend, easy there," Rexfelis said soothingly. "Please return to your place a moment, for the troubador has more to tell you, I am certain."

That is true, Lord of Cats," Gellor said. "Do listen, please, Gord. We dared not force the netherfiend into returning to this plane for fear of alerting its master and all the lords of evil. Instead, we attempted to discover which sorcerous servant of the pits commanded service from Krung."

"With what result?"

At that the one-eyed troubador smiled a wolfish smile. "A most enlightening result, my dear comrade, a most enlightening one indeed! There are some of the elements which defy Neutrality and serve Evil. There was the matter of the long series of violent storms which came too conveniently for coincidence. Although we dared not delve into the lower realms in our quest for truth, those of elemental air were more than open to us. Greenleaf alone was able to trace down and summon the one which had served to call forth the storms which enabled the murderous work to be done in secret. We forced the truth from the thing, a creature called Vashmilkusom. Then we imprisoned it safely to await a time when it will be convenient for us to return it to its own place and execute it."