Dance of Demons (41 page)

Gellor arose to stand beside his two friends. "We three alone survive to fight. The remainder of the Lords of Balance are no more. If you can manage even a whisper of chance against the storm of the archfiend's assault, what matter? It is the only remaining avenue left to follow."

"It is one I have known of for a long time," Gord admitted. "I hesitated to use it because of what will come from our act."

Leda looked at her love, then at Gellor. "The destruction of Greyhawk the death of all who dwell therein and are gathered there. Is not in question whether or not you lead us there, Gord."

"Aye, that's so," Gellor nodded vigorously. "City and life therein are doomed, foredoomed since your rising as champion. Its central position has been evident always, though it is in retrospect we realize that fact now. Let's press on quickly."

Thus agreed, the three rode astride ordinary mounts across the woodlands and fields toward the greatest urban center on the Flanaess. The whole of Oerth was wracked by war, killing, famine, and disease. Here and there some pocket of near-normal life held out, surrounded by a sea of turmoil and slaughter. From one such shelter to another they rode, and in the course of the journey and avoiding the skyborne hunt that sought for their souls each night, their strength and power were drained further and further. Insane servants of Tharizdun ran rampant through the land, so terrible and perverse that brigands appeared as men of Weal in comparison. Wandering survivors, refugees, despoilers, crazed cannibals, and worse were frequently encountered. Whether ignored or scattered by the three, there was so little that they could do to help that the experience eroded their determination, sapped their will to continue. Somehow they managed, and near year's end Gord. Leda. and Gellor came to the low northern ridges that allowed them their first look at the last city of Oerth.

"It seems almost unperturbed." Gord murmured, seeing the river barges, and carts coming and going.

"Those riders yonder," Leda said, pointing away to the east, "and perhaps the dust cloud to the south too. betoken a state of tense waiting, I think"

"The comment was only a passing thought. I realize that even though the strongest of the Flanaess are gathered within those grim walls to forestall the fall of Greyhawk, no collection of men and more-than-humans too can fend off the archfiend for long."

Gellor scowled. "Our proximity will bring the matter to a head. Would it were otherwise!"

"Do we stop in Greyhawk first?" Leda asked him.

"No," Gord said. "That would be of no usefulness at all. The ruins of the sprawling fortress built by the Archimage are nearer to us than the city anyway. Let's make for them immediately."

In a short time the three located a faint trace that led them to the old castle. Although they passed through an unfamiliar gate, Gord's memory was good. The way to the depths of the citadel's subterranean mazes was indelibly etched in his mind. Before descending, they paused, ate a little, and rested. When the sun in the leaden sky was near its zenith, the young champion led the two into the ruins and downward into the central heart of the underground beneath.

At the bottom of a well-like shaft, Gord paused a moment. "I wonder what ever befell that self-seeking mage who first brought me here...."

Leda had heard the tale of Gord and Chert having to face the dangers that the greedy spell-binder had exposed them to. "Some just fate, no doubt. Thank him for his actions, though, Gord. You plan to use the knowledge he inadvertently lent you to foil the Ultimate Evil."

"Yes, so I do, dear little conscience. Between you and Gellor I get no peace."

The bard managed to clip short the words that rose in his throat. "If we don't. . ."

"Don't what?" his friend asked.

"Don't stop reminiscing like old folk and get to business.' Gellor substltuted, "we'll attract an unwarned audience for our further descent!" He had thought that peace would never come — obliteration at best an eternity of suffering in a half-aware state under Tharizdun's tender mercies at worst. Thoughts such as those were better unvoiced, and the troubador wondered why he had allowed a hint of such despondent considerations to be uttered.

"With our rings the process is almost no challenge. Come on, let's descend to the realms that exist beneath the actuality of Greyhawk Castle."

* * *

"I have sealed the fate of the rings," Entropy droned, the uniformity somehow conferring a tone of smugness.

"
Have you now? I am much impressed
," Tharizdun said with equal smugness. "
However did you accomplish such a wonder
?"

"That is simple," the entity purred. "I lured the three into the welter of dimensions and planes which impinge upon the substance of Oerth beneath the construction of the Archimage."

"
Oh, my! How did you manage that feat? It must have required exceptional genius
."

"I spread much of myself to encompass those mortals, and as a noose tightens, I drew the weight of desolation inward. They went before it as sheep."

Tharizdun could barely contain himself. "
Couldn't I have been op some small assistance to you in that effort, Lord of Entropy
?"

The darkness seemed to shrug. "The thought never occurred to me."

There was delight in the heart of the archfiend. The entity could be manipulated, hoodwinked, and even played as one would a lute! "
So the champion and two would-be heroes are gone to ground, so to speak
."

"That is well put. They delve below the ruined fortress even now. They will be exactly where I desire when your full power waxes strongest too, I might add."

"
Master inertia, your alliance is most beneficial. Soon now your reward will oome to its fullness. I will take pleasure in having one such as you there in my dominance of all
!"

Tharizdun wiped his hand across his beautifully evil features, keeping his face a mask, mind an unreadable blank shielded by his best dweomers. "
As you have alerted me, I believe I should rouse the yeth and ready another hunt. the pack will enjoy the chase through the depths in which those three foolishly stray, will they not
?"

Entropy was uninterested. "What those hounds like or dislike is unknown to me. Do I have your assurance that if I risk the negation of the bands, you will bring the champion to his final battle?"

"
The yeth hounds are for just such a purpose, and I too am prepared to fight the three again
."

"Courflamme?"

The archfiend waved his hand airily. "
Have you forgotten what I said in that regard? No matter. Your sly trap has also benefited me. The blade is most vulnerable at a certain place there beneath Greyhawk
." There was far more, but Tharizdun didn't speak of it. He had done most of the work that Entropy claimed, of course. With carefully orchestrated moves, the three had been forced to the place they now were. By wild yeth harrying them, lands torn by strife, spheres devastated, avenues barred. champion and heroes had been put into the exact place Tharizdun wanted them to be.

Did the ultimate expression of Evil recognize that his destruction and slaughter led along a path that ended in the inevitability of extinction? Extinction of not a race or species, but the annihilation of all life followed by the cessation of activity in all aspects of the multiverse? Tharizdun did ponder that very consideration. He wrote off the whole question as ridiculous. In a cosmos of infinite probabilities, infinite realitles, what mattered a few billion deaths? Even the snuffing out of a galaxy or two? Entropy sought vainly to rule in a limitless arena where life, energy, or simply motion would always spawn itself. Hubris always reasons thus, for if a course is determined regardless of what will eventuate because of its pursuit, there are always internal means of rationalizing whatever then occurs or seems probable under known conditions. It can't happen here, to me. . . .

Entropy too had reason to indulge in introspective questions. Did the archfiend labor under self-delusion? Or was Tharizdun's seeming hubris no false and bloated confidence in his own ability? What if that being could somehow sustain a wholeness of evil activity and repression that blanketed every aspect of the multiverse but failed to bring nullity? That was as unacceptable a thought to the entity as was sharing to the archfiend. If Tharizdun demonstrated a confidence. it was because of his own limitations, his failure to comprehend the certain destiny of the cosmic all when a set of conditions came into being. The stage was set, just as the archfiend had desired, but Tharizdun was but an actor. Entropy wrote, managed, and directed the actuality.

"We meet again in the depths beneath the castle then, Tharizdun."

"
But of course, entity of inertia, but of course. Shall we say in one hour, by local reckoning
?" Tharizdun heard no reply, for Entropy had already dissipated its essences. With a dark smile and wicked laugh, the archfiend transported himself elsewhere too. It was time for the last wild hunt.

* * *

Nothing was as it had been, should have been still. The places where the existence of other spheres impinged on that of the world of mankind were diminished. The elemental presences were but small manifestations of power. Nature was miniaturized. The mighty Yang and Yin were pygmy-sized and powerless things who fled instantly upon seeing the three. A test of energies garnered scarcely a trickle of the bright force of creation, the same with respect to the dark energy of destruction.

"The elements provided virtually nothing," Gord said unbelievingly, "and now Balance proves to be likewise inadequate. Some great change has been wrought here."

"Do our enemies see so far into the future that they can do thus?" Gellor was speaking more to himself than to his comrades, grim wonder on his visage.

Leda comprehended the actuality. "It is the hedging off which has done this, bard. When we were barred from plane and probability line, this nexus of such spheres was abridged. I am sure of it, for how else could the diminished states of the places have come about? Gord certainly has not misremembered."

"That's true enough. I have no memory lapse. There is still one place left which I recall. The hillman caused me some grief there. . . ." Gord paused and blinked away a rising tear as he thought of Chert. "Gone now, vanished with the rest. No sense in such maudlin meandering. We have a problem to overcome!"

The three went onward until coming to an extensive cavern wherein lay a small lake of glittering water. The surface of the pond was undulating, as if monstrous saurians were cavorting beneath it, and the water had a sickly disturbing sheen. "Eeerg! What is this?" Gellor asked with loathing written on his face as he viewed the place.

"It is disgusting," Leda agreed, looking at Gord for enlightenment, for he had not mentioned such a revolting locale to them in his recounting of his sojourn in the places beneath Greyhawk Castle.

"It must be ... It can be only the Sea of Thought! But that is impossible! When I was here before, there were no visible shores, and the water was as bright as a sunlit ocean. Perhaps we direct it thus — our thoughts make it thus. Come on, you two, think of expansive power and the might of justice."

After a moment the surface became somewhat less disturbed, and the ghastly appearance of the big pond was no longer apparent. The extent of the water was unchanged, however, and it remained sinister. "This is the sum total of thought here, on Oerth, In all places which form its cosmos now, Gord," the oneeyed troubador said as he observed the scene. "When you came to this juncture before, the whole of the multiverse manifested itself in the expression of Thought at this nexus. Now Oerth's reality is cut off, a shrunken portion of the multiverse. It is a cul-desac which fills with ever-growing evil, so the sea is now but a polluted pond."

"Then we are .. ."

"Finished. At least, our hopes of renewing our strength to its maximal condition are, Leda." Gord grimaced, then made up his mind. "I'll draw what I can from this little lake, for ring and into Courflamme too. Can you manage likewise?"

Both of his friends eked what energies they could into their bands under Gord's direction. Drawing anything of Good from the pond was dangerous and trying. Thereafter, the young champion concentrated his thoughts upon draining any wealsome force left into his own ring. There came a trickle only. At last he used the sword to draw any remaining power usable into itself. The process was over quickly. Now the waters were shrunken and putrescent. He was about to lead them on into whatever was beyond when there was a sudden boiling from lake. "Are you causing that with your imaginings, you two?"

"No!" Gellor cried. Leda merely shook her head.

"Get back! The level is rising." Gord warned, heading back the way they had come as he alerted Gellor and Leda. The pond was rising as if some underground torrent were suddenly unstoppered and filling the basin there with its gushing flow. The liquid was not the bright stuff of former times, however. If anything, the waters that now rose were more hideous than moments before the surge.

"What does this mean?" the elven girl asked with horror. She was afraid her conclusion was correct and dreaded it, and the answer Gord gave made Leda's worst fears realized.

The archfiend and his minions are near," the champion said with a slow, lugubrious tone.

Gellor was not so despondent. They must come through these very waters. That's what is causing the swelling of this piss-puddle's volume. Let us by all means give them a warm greeting when their foul heads surface!"

All three moved back to a position of advantage and readied for the coming of Tharizdun. Almost immediately, he and his howling pack of hounds broke the tossing waters.

There was a stench accompanying archfiend and yeth. a reek so strong it almost overpowered the three. It rose from master and hounds and the stuff of Thought there. It was charnel and bitter, the stench of rotting vegetation and excrement too. With the malodorous assault came a din of foul noise that was as indescribable as it was deafening, composed of the howling and yammering of the diverse-headed hounds, Tharizdun's wild shouting and laughter, accompanied by screams from some nether place and the screeching and booming of the sorcerous means by which the evil company had come. Up surged the stuff of Thought there, and it was as a cesspool's flooding. Out rose the monstrous yeth and their master. and the suppuration of the foul pond was preferable to such as wallowed in its filth.