Dance of Demons

Chapter 13

When the single demon appeared, Gord was sitting as a statue, the two fused Theorparts resting across his folded legs. Just to the left and a little behind, Gellor rested in a similar position with the ivory form of the silver-stringed little harp squarely on his lap.

What disconcerted the demon most was the longsword that floated in the air, suspended with its pommel toward the champion of Balance, point aimed out. It swung as a compass needle to aim at the demon's heart, no matter how the netherbeing shifted. Gathering its bravado, the chargin demon blurted, "If I am harmed, mortal, the drow called Leda dies!"

"Do not shout, brother of Krung," Gellor said clearly and without emotion. "The champion knows why you have come, what you are going to say, even who you are and why you were chosen."

Those words made the demon shake inside himself with a combination of furious hatred and horrible fear. Because the human with the enchanted gem for an eye called the chargin "brother of Krung," it was evident that at least a part of what that one said was true. The man knew too much!

Yognath was indeed the sibling of the chargin who had dared to serve Hades. As such, he had been given the unenviable duty of bringing Graz'zt's ultimatum to the human invaders. If he succeeded in returning alive, then Yognath would be rewarded with lordship of the chargin demons, and the race would no longer be outcast and harried for Krung" s stupid alliance outside the bonds of demonium. Better to pretend absolute confidence, to ignore the strength implied in what the human had said.

"No secret that," Yognath nearly shouted in retort. "All the Abyss thunders with the achievements of Graz'zt. The name of Yognath, the great lord honored to bear his ultimatum, is carried by the very pulses of demonium. Even a fool would know the only course then possible."

"Yes, demon, the whole of this is foolery," Gellor said without inflection. "Speak the words you are commanded on pain of death to speak on Graz'zt's behalf. Say nothing else," the bard added, and his voice was steely when he added that admonition.

Yognath peered quickly at the silent man who sat with the great relics. Could he snatch the two and be away before either of these puny mortals could stop him? Then, to use their power upon the ebon demonking, all of those who had wrought such misery upon Yognath and the rest of the chargin recently. . No, that was only a fleeting fantasy, and the demon knew it. The forces that radiated from both men were sufficient to warn Yognath that he would have no chance if he tried it. The only indication he even considered so doing was a slight narrowing of his eyes, a twitching in his ropy, long-taloned fingers. Then with hardly a pause, the messenger repeated what he had been sent to say. In essence it was "give Graz'zt the Theorparts, and he will give Leda back to you."

The whole of his speech was long and convoluted. Yognath stared at the unmoving champion when it was finished. The man seemed totally detached, uncaring. "Well?" the demon demanded. Still the human was as stone.

"Tell Graz'zt that Gord, champion of Balance, has heard and will come as requested," Gellor said after a long pause.

"He must speak for himself," the demon sneered.

"I am only repeating his commands, as you do those of Graz'zt" the bard informed the jeering chargin. "Go away! Do your duty — tell Graz'zt!" Gellor ordered. As if to punctuate that statement, the sword that floated before the smaller man suddenly began to pulse alternately light and dark, moving slightly closer to Yognath's scaled breast as it did so.

The chargin nearly stumbled over his own splayed feet in his haste to comply. The two men were left alone in the nightmare wilderness, still unmoving statues of alien sort in that demonic plane.

"Was it sufficient time?" Gellor finally asked.

Gord moved with a spryness and alacrity that was surprising after sitting so long in a contorted fashion. "More than sufficient, dear comrade, more than you can know! The demon is but a dupe and a dolt Nothing he supposes is correct, and much has been kept from him, so that no probe of his mind, or physical torture, could force him to reveal the secrets which his masters hold."

"Then how can you have sufficient information? What intelligence so invigorates you?"

"Much is told by not being said, Gellor," Gord said enigmatically. "Come on. Let us ready ourselves to greet a multitude of demons and free our Leda!"

Gellor shook his head while proceeding quickly to ready himself. "Two against the millions," said he as he clasped the final piece of his armor into place. "Never have there been such odds."

"We are not as alone as you think, I assure you,

Gellor. Millions can work for and against, even as a million-to-one chance."

"You are growing unbalanced, Gord. Lunatic ravings hearten me naught."

"None could gainsay madness, should I choose to adopt it as a shield. But I do not, good troubador. I merely toy with it as the demon lords would toy with us, were they able." The analogy brought sudden insight to Gellor, and his countenance displayed the fact.

"Yes, my one-eyed, open-mouthed companion, yes!" Gord went on. "I watch and listen and wait for some choice response from you, but you only babble and tell me nothing. Thus, unenlightened, I go forth to do as the black master of the Abat-dolor demands. Will you also go in the required fashion?"

It was not Gord who spied. It was natural that the demons would watch, and Gellor now comprehended what Gord was warning him of. Something did watch and listen — listen even to thoughts sent from mind to mind, else his friend would have used telepathic means to alert him. "The choice is one of staying here alone or accompanying you to the place of exchange?"

"There can be no other," Gord averred. "It isn't so glum a prospect, for who can say what will transpire after the event has rim its many-faceted course?" The words didn't convey anything useful to Gellor, and the bard shrugged to indicate that fact while moving beside the champion. "Good," his friend said, taking the troubador by his arm. "We'll stand together thus when coming before the demons." With a brief string of sounds to activate the Theorparts, Gord and his comrade then vanished from the wild depths of the Abyss.

It was on iyondagur that Leda was held. To that forsaken stratum the two men must come, bearing the two parts of the arcane key that the demons demanded as the price of her release. Graz'zt demanded, actually, while the horde of other great and lesser demons lent support. Better for the Theorparts to be held by one of their own, of course, than by a wretched outsider.

At a place where the gray and stony barrens of iyondagur's outreaches merged toward another desolate tier of demonium was gathered the whole force of the allies. A half-hundred noble demons there were, with petty lords and demon-chiefs outnumbering them by six times, and the ranks of their warriors yet farther back and in countless hundreds of thousands. Unimaginable, frightening, and poised as a flock of raptors above some field upon which a plump hare must soon venture.

The bait was the pretty captive. Leda was standing alone, nearly naked, not tied but immobilized nonetheless. A thousand paces separated the dark elf from the hordes of warriors, half that distance from the place where their masters were waiting, and only a scant hundred from the spot where Graz'zt waited with Elazalag and Vuron. The albino grasped Unbinder — a dubious privilege but one upon which Graz'zt had insisted, with horrid threats of the consequences should Vuron not use the artifact effectively for his master's protection.

Graz'zt would have preferred to be alone, only he dared not attempt that until he secured the two other Theorparts. Doubts still slunk as jackals around the demonking's mind. Would the man be so stupid? Could the entity calling itself Lord Entropy be gulling him? Could anything go wrong? Each little thought skulked and yapped, but when one was grasped at to be considered, it ran away in fear.

"They come," hissed the albino, pointing toward a slight distortion near where the drow priestess stood.

"I am ready," Graz'zt pronounced. His voice was loud, meant to carry the intervening distance, to inform Entropy. Was that needed? Perhaps not, but the ebon demon would rather be on the cautious side.

The distortion brightened into a shimmering archway, and from the portal it formed stepped the two humans who championed Balance. It pleased Graz'zt to observe that the one called Gord carried the united pair of relics in his left hand, reserving his right for the deadly magical blade that was his badge of office as Balance's greatest hero. This was according to Entropy's assessment. The weakling was actually going to comply! He would trade mastery of all for a mere female!

"You have answered my summons," the tall demonking said as the small man looked toward him.

"Was there ever a doubt I would?" Gord replied lightly. "I have come to do as you wish. I will place the Theorparts beside Leda now for your inspection."

Graz'zt watched closely, scrutinizing all for the least sign of trickery. There were no falsities involved. Gellor stood in place as Gord slowly paced the distance between himself and the drow, covering the hundred steps without seeming haste. Once there, the man hardly paused to examine the captive to determine her reality and state of health. No need, Graz'zt supposed. The energies of the two portions of the great relic would easily convey all such information to him in a flash — and would also report if the elfs true nature was being screened by counterdweomers from similar instruments of powerful magic. Entropy had forbade any magical shielding, for to attempt that would be to alert the champion to something, and extensive inspection might discover the presence of something. . else. . there with the dark elven priestess.

"Are you whole?" Gord asked.

"Yes. Gord," came Leda's reply. Her words sounded perfectly natural, and even her eyes were in accord with the answer.

"What if I took you away while keeping the Theorparts?"

"There is a geas-force within me which would annihilate me in that instant" she answered. Even at his distant place. Graz'zt felt the ring of truth in her words. As with all that transpired, the arcane energies at play magnified and made manifest each detail of all that occurred. No illusion, no sleight-of-hand substitution, nothing unseen could escape observation — nothing save the nothingness of Lord Entropy.

"Then I do freely exchange these two objects for you, Leda. As you are sound, whole, and unharmed in any form, I hand over the two relics in the same condition. Do you accept the trade, demon?"

The manner of address was infuriating to Graz'zt, but he allowed the red wash of anger to flow away. What counted was the gain. "Of course, you know I do. It is to my tune you dance, manling!"

"Very well, then. I leave the bonded Theorparts and take the dark elf Leda in even exchange, all according to the terms and conditions just pronounced."

"So be it!" Graz'zt cried. He was echoed by a dozen demon voices, and they, in turn, were underscored by a roaring accolade from a million misshapen demon throats as the massed ranks of warriors behind took up the shout of demonium's triumph.

Leda was stunned, her mind in turmoil. Something was wrong, but she couldn't say what. She couldn't even think clearly. "Gord. .?"

"Never mind, dear one, never mind at all," he said reassuringly as he took her arm gently. Without a further word he walked slowly away, his back to the myriad of demonic foes packed in their phalanxes, voicing their cries of awful glee. Leda accompanied him, held steady by his arm, not sure what was going on, but becoming more and more uneasy with each step.

"No. . no! You-"

"You!" Gord countered, and increased his pace so as to get greater distance between the two of them and the twin Theorparts. At a hundred paces he turned and said to Leda, "I know what is going on, girl. Two can plot and set traps."

"It is a. a. creature, a vile thing calling itself. "

"Lord of Entropy," he finished for the distraught little elf. "I became aware, but that's a tale for later. We — you, to be exact, my love — have the remainder of this farce to play out."

"I don't understand you, Gord. What can we do? You were wrong to trade me for the Theorparts. Now all is lost!"

"Were you unharmed? Free of duress?"

Leda was adamant. "Of course not! That monstrous thing was there possessing me, making it impossible for me to act normally. I couldn't do anything of my own free will, not even blink a warning!"

"Then by the terms I offered and Graz'zt accepted, there is no bargain. Leda. The demonking struts forth now to claim what he supposes is his prize," Gord said urgently. "Entropy lurks there too, gloating. You can end all that, but when you do, there will be a confrontation which cannot be described. Graz'zt and his minions will attack Will you fight them?"

"Of course — if I can, that is. How is it to be? What do you want me to do?" Leda was nearly dancing with anxiety and desire to rectify the wrong, redress what had happened.

"Good! Take Courflamme now. and use it well. I think it will serve you as it does me," Gord said in a low tone as the ebon demonking came within a dozen paces of the twin Theorparts.

"But. . your blade! It is. . Graz'zt is about to gain the thing!" Now Leda was actually bouncing, yet as she did so she instinctively reached out and took the longsword from Gord.

"And now I shall balance the scales in the bargain," the young champion said. He raised his unencumbered hands and cried aloud. "By the terms of our compact, demon, the fused portions of the relic were given as payment for a whole and unharmed captive. The prisoner was not so extant, in that she could neither reason nor speak The agreement is voided. Graz'zt!"

"Is it? IS IT??" Graz'zt boomed the last, breaking into peals of demonic laughter as he bent down, sixfingered hands swooping to clutch his hard-won prize. With the culmination of the fight, this was the sweetest and most satisfying of all the demonking's triumphs.

Entropy, gathered near to the relic, was using all of his being to maintain the nothingness surrounding the three parts of Tharizdun's artifact. The two must remain apart for a time yet before they melded into the third. It would finalize the destruction, decay, and chaos leading to the timeless peace of nullity. To assure the separation, the formless entity molded bits of himself into place around the two Theorparts already united, for their attraction was a straining power that had to be dampened. Entropy heard and understood the exchange between Gord and the demonking. of course, but it seemed as if the champion of Balance was trying to argue speciously. What matter anyway? De facto was sufficient to rule. Graz'zt would hold the thing, and then no law save the power of Evil would reign. "Grab it quickly, you fool!" Entropy intoned as rapidly as its own inert self could. Graz'zt heard, and the command galvanized him. He stepped closer, and his talonlike fingers reached out.

Leda! Instead of the thing that was the united Theorparts, Graz'zt saw the little dark elf before him, and that made even the great demonking recoil. It wasn't merely the suddenness of the exchange; Leda held the crystal and jet sword, and the instant she appeared where the relic had been, she used it.

"NO!" The denial burst forth from the ebon monarch's massive chest with a bellow of rage and dismay.

"No … o … o … I" The same cry from the formless entity seemed to roll as does thunder from hill to hill as Entropy tried to deny the impossible juxtapositioning.

"No!" Leda said, but hers was another sort of denial. The little drow was voicing her rejection of Graz'zt and all demonium, and she punctuated that with a blow from Courflamme that was aimed at the demonking's chest.

"Yes!" Gord said softly in satisfaction as the two Theorparts appeared in his grasp and began to draw dark forces into play. Leda was in a dire position, and he had to act with power and speed to save her. Gord sent a blast from the conjoined Theorparts. The energy bolt struck Unbinder's length, and the Theorpart went spinning from Vuron's grasp. The cry of pain and shock from the albino demon was plain to Gord's ears over the intervening distance. That done, he called to Gellor. "At them now, comrade! We mustn't leave Leda exposed!"

Gellor was ready, and at the instant Gord shouted the troubador struck up a series of rippling chords from the kanteel. He would send forth such strains as had never before been inflicted upon the Abyss, and the demons would reel and die from the fell powers of the melodies of light and justice. Playing thus upon the ivory harp, Gellor went forth, ready to leave off the fingering of silver strings in favor of his sword when near to the wild foes. The bard knew full well that the dweomers that Gord would bring to bear upon the massed horde of demons would suffice to keep the lesser sort at bay. In the press, Gellor would meet their lords with enchanted steel and fighting skill.

Covering the distance by bounds, Gord raced to the place where Leda stood. He saw a dozen great demons leaping and running toward that place too. They understood all too well their predicament and hoped to make the little elven priestess hostage again and redress the situation thus. As he moved, Gord plied the might of the twin relics, willing all before him to accept the mastery of himself as supreme, to cease resistance and bow before his might.

The lesser demons, the warriors and bestial fighters of but dim intelligence, quickly acceded to the mental broadcast. None of the nobles of demonium heeded such an enspelled message, of course. It seemed to add oil to the burning coals of their fury, so that these came forth with greater rage than ever to contest with their three small enemies.

So too Gellor's music. The least of demonkind were easily slain by the force of his playing, the stupid and brutish too were laid low by the sounds. Some of the more powerful ones were maimed, driven back, and would eventually be destroyed by sustained playing. The lords of demonium were but galled and pricked by the notes. Gellor understood that, so as he neared the place where great demonlords gathered to fight, he thrust the little kanteel within its case. Hoping it would remain safe where it rested at the rear of his broad girdle, the troubador drew forth his own good blade and laid into the onrushing foes.

Neither man needed to have been so concerned with Leda's fate. Even while facing the towering Graz'zt, being aware of the lurking presence of Lord Entropy, and seeing a score of mighty demonlords rushing toward her, the elven girl was undaunted. As Graz'zt bellowed his outraged denial of her sudden transposition with the melded Theorparts, Leda struck at him with Courflamme. "Bastard!" she said, truly meaning that epithet, remembering the callous cruelties and vileness of the demonking.

Courflamme seemed alive in her hands. Its hilt shaped itself to her grip, and the sword's energy flowed to fill Leda with strength and confidence. The instinctive recoiling saved him from the full force of the attack but Leda's thrust took Graz'zt at the place where his demonic plate joined, where mall and bands lay between corselet and cuirass. The point slipped between the thick plates, their overlap being no proof against such an upward stab. The dark metal links of mall beneath were rendered useless too, for the blade and the force behind it sufficed to break their interlinking. Courflamme's tip pierced the demonking's hard skin, sinking into the flesh beneath. But the thrust was too short, his backward motion too fast.

The sting of Courflamme's kiss sufficed to make Graz'zt curse the small drow and continue his retreat at the same time. "Bitch-slut! You'll be begging for such tenderness as that little Jab you just delivered to me when this day is through!" It was but a small wound. Graz'zt meant to fulfill his promise of frightful torture, but that could wait. First he had to get away from the deadly blade. The demonking sensed the terrible dweomers bound into the sword and knew that a moderately severe blow from it could well end his existence. Graz'zt would escape its reach and regain safety. Then, as his guards dealt with things, he would take up Unbinder and return to the fray. . with a vengeance!

The black form spun and was lost from Leda's view as a press of other great demonlords came upon her. The power of Courflamme was still with her, and within her, though. "Come on!" she cried, making a blurred line with the sword as she sent its length back and forth before her. "Come and greet this blade!" First one, then another of the huge demons did so. Courflamme sliced and bit. Marduk fell away, molten stuff streaming from a great gash in his side where the sword had slashed deeply. Nexroth soon had but one leg. Bulumuz, his face a gory ruin, staggered back, knocking three other demonlords down as he collided with them. Then the pale form of Vuron was before Leda.

"You are wounded, Leda, and this is not your fight!" The albino spoke truth in part. The melee was deadly; the dark elven girl had suffered many hurts and was bruised and cut, with blood flowing from many small wounds. "Yield to me, give over the sword, and I will guarantee quarter," Vuron said. "Resume your place beside our Lord Graz'zt, and you will be queen of all your people soon!"

Those words were spoken with a twofold purpose. Vuron was aware that Gord had come up to join the battle, and his impact drew off the others, for he held the terrible Theorparts. None of the great masters of the Abyss dared try to flee to the face of that. It was not a matter of savagery; they had no option but to attack Either they would overwhelm the small champion or else be destroyed in the attempt. To turn and run would bring swift destruction from the twin relics in any event. Perhaps as much a factor as that logical reasoning, the demonlords also were consumed with hatred for the man who dared to face them, defeat them, thus.

As the score of demons attacked Gord, Vuron had a little time to attempt his own tactic. Perhaps he could actually sway Leda. After all, he had been almost a friend to her during her enforced confinement as Graz'zt's counselor. If that proved to be a fruitless attempt, the words had a second purpose too. Vuron needed to slow the draw's reactions, lessen her righteous anger, weaken the power that flowed between her and the terrible blade of Courflamme. The interval would also allow him to ready his own weapon, for Vuron had retrieved Unbinder in the confusion.

"Vuron! Not you!" Leda stopped the cut she had been about to deliver. "You am no longer any part of this," she spat. "Get away! Run and never let me see you again — I don't want to have to slay you, tool" As she spoke the last sentence, Leda brought Courflamme up again, readying to make good on her threat if Vuron chose not to heed her warning.

"You cannot deny your affinity to Evil, Leda. There is much of Eclavdra in you, too much ever to be other than kindred of the Abyss. Once again, forget the petty hopes and desires of mankind and take your place amongst the great ones of demonium."

"I give you my answer thus!" Leda said harshly, hacking down with the sword.

A lightless shield interposed between Courflamme and the thin demonlord. "You can't harm me with that blade, you foolish little girl!" Vuron said with confident rebuke. "I helped to make its very essence and gave it back to the puny manling you now cleave to. Now I give you a last chance. Surrender the sword; better still, turn it against Gord! Do one or the other, else I will end your life." As he made the threat, Vuron suddenly produced a weapon from behind the Theorpart-shield. The albino demon wielded a Javelinlike spear, almost an extension of his stick-thin arm, and Vuron plied it as quickly as an adder. He emphasized his words with a thrust which darted toward Leda's eyes.

The shock of the sword contacting the Theorpartshield numbed Leda's arm. The dark force of the artifact drew energy from Courflamme and from her as well. Many more such contacts, and the power of her weapon would be gone, its dark half drained by the vampiric hunger of the Theorpart. Gord had used the black power of the weapon to contest with the like force of the Theorpart when facing Iuz. Could she manage something like that? Leda knew that such was her only hope now, for Vuron was striking to kill.

"No balance in shield and spear against Courflamme," she called, speaking to the blade she now bore. "Give me Balance!" Courflamme split in twain at that, placing a diamond-bright sword in her left hand, its negative counterpart of inky hue in the girl's right.

"What trick do you try now, ingrate? The doubling of your sword will be of no avail," Vuron called as he stabbed quickly again. This time he did his utmost to sink the barb-edged spearpoint into Leda's exposed jugular. The division of Courflamme into halves worried the albino demonlord. He was rightly confident that the evil force of the sword was not baneful to him. It was made, In part, by his own forging. Why he had done that bothered him. It had seemed a mere whim, inculcating the evil force that blighted the ancient sword so as to make it even more deadly a weapon than it had formerly been. Now he wondered if it had been some bleak fate that compelled the action. Those fleeting thoughts didn't distract him in the least. Complex and multilevel thinking was, after all, Vuron's forte.

"Ah-hah!" the albino started to vaunt as he saw his long point strike home. Then he was leaping back, drawing his arm in desperate haste, for the stab had but cut a red line on the glistening sable of Leda's neck, and she, in turn, struck back.

The cut burned, but Leda was unaffected by that. The black blade in her right hand shot straight out, sinking its point into the Theorpart-shield. It held fast, and sword and relic seemed to lock together in a hateful contest of strength. The sword could never win such a battle, for it was but a half of the full force of what it was. The effect was great, however, for it held fast the defense that Vuron had relied upon. Neither sword nor shield could be moved during the interchange of malign stroke and counterstroke of force that then occurred. At the same instant, Leda used the crystalline brand held in her left hand to sweep up and around in an arcing blow aimed at Vuron's outthrust arm. "Death to you, Vuron," Leda shouted.

He was very fast, but the bright edge of Courflamme's crystal half caught Vuron's forearm. "Eeeeyaa!" The cry of pain was drawn as a high and terrible piping from the thin demonlord's chest. Leathery, even as hard as the alabaster it resembled, was Vuron's appendage. But not even steel could have resisted the edge of the diamond-bright blade as it swept up. The stuff cut into Vuron's arm, and he drew it backward at the same moment, thus prolonging the exposure of demonhide to enchanted edge. Vuron's arm was sliced from elbow to wrist. The spear dropped from his now useless hand. He knew it was all finished then, that the wound had done more than destroy his right arm.

"I am sorry … so sorry, Vuron. If ever your kind could make claim to nobility, you were the only one who could do so with justice," Leda said, almost sobbing as she saw what her attack had accomplished.

"Weakling! Tarry in your work, and I'll have your skull yet," the albino demon snarled back. Even as he spoke, Vuron worked frantically to change the useless shield into some form of weapon to use against her. But the dark portion of Courflamme held leechlike to the Theorpart, and this made the arcane relic's response to Vuron's willed commands sluggish. He regretted speaking then, for Leda steeled herself and struck again. Vuron tried to hide his whiteness beneath the cover of the slowly metamorphosing Theorpart, but his body was too long, arms and legs too gangling.

"Gods!" screamed Leda, seeing the bright sword slice away the pale flesh of the demon's body, leaving a terrible and bloody rawness where skin and flesh were gone from ribside.

"Finish me now, or by the Abyss I'll flay and eat your flesh as you watch!" The agonized shriek came spilling forth as did the life-stuff of the demonlord. It was no idle threat, either. Vuron had now accomplished the change, and Unbinder was an iron-fanged thing whose ever-growing jaws were about to close upon Leda's legs.

Without hesitation, and purged of remorse too, the little elven girl took hold of Courflamme's broad hilt with both hands, allowing the useless portion of the sword to fall free, for its work with the Theorpart was finished. "To the void with you!" she shouted as she swung, and the sword severed the demon's left arm. "Now, and now! And NOW!!" Three exclamations, three hacking blows with Courflamme. Vuron's headless and dismembered corpse littered the battleground there in demonium, and the albino lord of the Abyss was no more.

Leda shook and sobbed. "You were but a demon, a vile demon after all," she blurted. Then she stood leaning upon the shining portion of the longsword as if surveying her handiwork but her eyes were unseeing.

Gellor had not been idle meanwhile. The troubador had rushed to Gord's side and defended his comrade from the press of huge demons who would have thrown themselves upon the small man and torn him to shreds. The work was hot at first, as the initial press came for them. Gellor's blade rang against strange armors and stranger weapons as he dueled with one after another of the creatures. Oddly, it was an ancient and clumsy thing, a hook-bladed khopesh, that nearly did for him. The demon wielding it was Lord Apepi.

"Hew harr mine!" the cobra-headed thing had hissed as the khopesh tore Gellor's sword from his grip and sent it tumbling away.

"Only if you can fight better than you talk" the troubador had rejoined, pulling free his dagger as he did so and taking a defensive stance. The demon was the last facing him, and Gellor silently thanked all the deities who assisted fools as he crouched before the unwavering stare of Apepi. Poison spittle and fangs as well as sword threatened him. The dag he held was useless except to parry attacks, and even that had to be done with utmost care, or the massive weight of the khopesh would snap the weapon or toss it away. Gellor tried to move crabwlse toward where his sword lay.

"Phaat!" Apepi expelled a gob of venom between the one-eyed baid and his weapon. "No, maan. Thaat whill sspoll my enjoymenss," the cobra mouth articulated in its hissing, clumsy parody of speech.

The predicament his comrade faced was evident to Gord. The young champion had laid about him with the twin relics as the wave of enraged demonlords had swept upon him. As if acting of their own volition, the melded Theorparts had shifted form. First as a massive bardiche they had gone, cutting and hewing away the whole front rank of the attackers. Back the thing had come, now a many-spiked morning star from whose iron head shot daggers of crackling energy. Then it was a staff Gord clutched, and out of that black length had poured forth a stream of even blacker lances of force that pierced many a demonlord and ended all existence then and there. After that initial onslaught, Gord had been forced to fight a series of indIvidual combats against the few great demons who still remained. Then the last one's will had broken, and Gord was at last able to come to Gellor's aid.

"Whaat?" the snake-headed Apepi hissed angrily as Gord interposed himself. "No fairnesss in thisss fight?"

"Of course," Gord almost laughed in reply as he snapped his wrist. The length of the two Theorparts, now a steely whip, wrapped around the heavy khopesh. "I fairly despise you, and I fairly finish it so!" He tugged, and the hook-topped sword flew from the demon prince's grasp. "Now you may pick it up and fight again with my comrade, who is now getting his own weapon — or you can run!"

Both men laughed as the cobra-demon fled from the field by means of its own inner powers, a force that recalled the demon safely to his own stronghold elsewhere in the Abyss. "And now?" asked the troubador, surveying the littered field.

"We get Leda and the Unbinder, and be away from this pestilential place," Gord said.

"A plan worthy of Balance's finest, Gord," Gellor agreed. "Yonder Graz'zt is attempting to rally the disheartened horde he marshalled here, and his consort is urging compliance with the Eye of Deception."

"There could be more slaughter, but that would avail us nothing. Our goal is Tharizdun, and that goal is at hand."

The statement sobered Gellor. "Yes. … I had almost forgotten that Let's get on with it, then."

The two tired men moved quickly despite their fatigue. "Good work Leda! I see you have managed your share of the enemy, too," Gellor said to the silent girl.

"Never mind that." Gord reprimanded, seeing that Leda was in near shock from what she had had to do. He took the sword gently, sheathing it, then placed his arm around her protectively, as a father might comfort a child. "It has been hard, I know, dearest one. You must pull yourself together now, for unless we leave here immediately there will be yet more and ghastlier fighting to manage."

"He. . he. . Vuron! It was if I had to slay my own father!"

Gord steered her to a little distance away, a place where he could use the powers of the Theorparts to shift them from the nethersphere of demons to another, even worse, place. Time later to tell Leda that the albino had brought her into existence from Eclavdra for his own evil purposes. Not even one as strong as Leda could deal with so much now. "Gellor, seize Unbinder and bring it along."

"What of me?" a slow voice spoke. "Will you tarry to see if your newfound might can deal with me?"

"No," Gord said without bothering to look "You, Lord Entropy, have no part in my current plans. Seep off to where you belong." The entity was gone when the three departed the Abyss a moment later.