Leoceanius said we should expect you about now, and so here we stand gathered.'
A murmur rose up from several of those in Rexfelis's private chamber. Of the score of powerful personages there, perhaps seven or eight had met and spoken with the young adventurer in the past. Among them were the Master Cat, of course; the Demiurge Basiliv, the archwizards Mordenkainen and Tenser and the King of Shadow.
'I present Gord,' Rexfelis said formally, coming to the young man's aid. 'Some of you have been introduced to the Prince of Panthers before this.' Then he made introductions of some of those present whom the young adventurer had not met. 'My Lords of the Cabal,' he began, nodding to indicate four strange no-longer-humans near the back of the chamber. Then, sweeping his gaze and his arm slowly around the room, he named others. 'Gord, this is the Master of Swords — perhaps a foster sire of yours, I think. Here is Lord Hewd, Lord Donal, Murlon, Lord Keogh, Venerable Yocasta, Venerable Nastan. And here is the Active Hand of Dweomer, the Archimage, of course, for the highest of magic never himself interferes….'
Demi-gods, quasi-deities, the most powerful of humans. Somehow, Kharistylla had found out exactly when he was supposed to make his appearance, and Leoceanius had played a role he was unaware of. The whole experience was simply too much for Gord to comprehend. 'I… I… What is the problem? Am I being judged?' he blurted out.
'Droll fellow,' the quasi-deity known as Lord Keogh drawled with barely suppressed mirth. 'If that were the case, the whole lot of us would have to stand beside you.'
'Yet, not a bad idea that,' suggested the Mad One of Magic. 'Let's round up those demi-humans — the elves, dwarves, gnomes, that whole lot — and stand trial together!'
'There's no point trying to find that bunch,' Lord Hewd said, tugging absently at his little beard. 'They're all off fighting against demons and devils, you know.'
Shadowking raised a dark eyebrow at that exchange, and Rexfelis seemed about to interject something, but the four Hierophants of the Cabal spoke in unison. 'Enough, sirs!' they said. Then one of them continued. This young prince is true and truly puzzled. Let us deal with matters at hand in a fashion likely to produce results, ere we find ourselves grappling with fiends from the nether regions ourselves!'
Thank you, my lords,' Gord said to the Hierophants after an audible swallow of relief. 'I have had to face demons and devils before, and I think even this assemblage is preferable to that.'
Too bad, too bad,' caroled the Mad Archimage. 'We're here to see that you do just that!'
At that the Catlord took a hand. 'I apologize, Prince Gord,' he said formally. Then he took the young man by his arm and steered him to a nearby chair. Rexfelis pushed Gord down, seated himself in the next tall chair, and waved casually to the others to take their positions. 'Let us all take our places, and I shall explain to our champion what is to take place. Agreed?'
There were various spoken and unspoken assents, and in a moment or two the whole strange assembly, the gathering that included the majority of the powers who represented Balance, was seated in a semicircle in the large, low-ceilinged chamber. Thank you all, lords and ladies,' Rexfelis intoned. 'Hear what I have to tell to Gord of Greyhawk, acknowledged by me and you all as a peer, titled the Prince of Panthers by birthright and by virtue of accomplishment such that none may question.'
'Hear, hear!'
'Get on with it!'
Gord was now more confused than before, and at the same time a bit excited. What was this about 'birthright'? Perhaps, for some reason he could not fathom, he was finally about to learn of his heritage. But he and Rexfelis had spent long hours together before this, and surely the Catlord had already told him all there was to tell. Gord held his tongue, but his mind reeled. He dared not hope, but could not keep from doing so….
The Catlord gave cold looks to both who had spoken, first Basiliv and second the crotchety old Mordenkainen. He cleared his throat with a sound that was a cross between a purr and a growl, then continued. 'As you know, Gord has served the cause of Balance for longer than he has realized, but actively and most willingly of late. In recognition and explanation of his services, I have acknowledged his heritage to some of you. I now tell this to the rest of you, and Gord himself, for the first time: His father, my own great-grandson, was the sole heir of my kind's Seventh House. By birthright and his own deeds he has fully earned that heirship… and more. That is another story, however. I will stick with the business our council has before it.'
At that point Gord could no longer contain himself. 'You've known all along?' he asked, anger overriding the excitement he felt.
Rexfelis showed little emotion, but his huge, dark eyes had a tinge of sadness as he replied. 'Yes, Gord, I have known all along. I do not ask your forgiveness, for there is nothing to forgive. Perhaps you'll understand when you know more, perhaps not. Too many sought you — too many of such deadly power and fell purpose that not even all of us here, let alone simply me, could keep them from you had they fully understood just who and what you were… or are, rather.'
'Just what is that?' Gord's voice was calm, but an inner glow coming from his gaze bespoke his rage and sadness at being kept uninformed for so long.
'The one foretold… the one foreordained to light the final battle.'
The Catlord's last words curtailed Gord's rising fury, stopped it cold. 'I am fated to fight… the
'No, no, Rexfelis,' the ancient priest, Nastan, said loudly in his cracked voice. 'Not any of us can so order. We are mere predictors — searchers for clues is a better term, perhaps.'
'Well, I don't care who ordered it, actually,' Gord said harshly. 'I have some say. And why this damned secrecy? If this has been foreordained, then who or what could prevent it? Why not tell all?'
Rexfelis spoke again. 'Not so fast. What is foretold is this: Should you attain your maturity, manage to survive and not be polluted by evil, or made narrow by some rigid conceit, then you would be the one to bear the banner for us.'
Gord started to open his mouth, but the Catlord silenced him with a stern look. 'Mind you, prince, that I speak of no guarantees. Attend my words; let your ears hear. You alone can fight for us. None of those who espouse Law or Chaos must be allowed to prevail. Balance is the force that has a champion, one to carry the contest to Unrelenting Darkness.
'That much alone is foretold — the outcome of the battle is not prescribed. No hint is even given. Yet, your even being able to contest with the great enemy was sufficient to make the vile ones quail. You had to be protected — and kept ignorant so as not to reveal some clue unwittingly — until we could reveal this knowledge to you.'
The years in miserable suffering, the horrors of that bastard Theobald and beggary, the whole course of my life…'
'Necessary — and generally secretly assisted for the better by our agents, or simply directed by your own mind, Gord. In fact, what you did, what you accomplished, what you are — all of that is your own doing.'
'And just what does all of this mean?'
'Who can say? Not even the best of us is so great as to venture into such suppositions. Yet, prince, I think you yourself know the answer well enough. You see all sides of the question, judge, and act. Each year you grow, your perspective heightens, and the change is evident. You perceive the great conflict which now embroils all. It is a deadly game which will decide the fate of your world and ours too, whether of material sort or not.'
Gord shook his head in denial. That is no game, and I am no pawn in it.'
To some it is a game,' Basiliv the Demiurge said gently. 'It is a helpful analogy to use, though. The ones we contest with, even those we seek to aid, see it as such, you know.'
'How can this be called a game? Lives being played with, lost…. It is monstrous!'
There is a prize at stake, Gord,' Basiliv said in reply to the heated denial. 'It is a contest. You have played the game of life and death often enough yourself, I think.'
'It was for survival, and against those who knew full well the consequences of loss. Each was an able and skilled opponent, and I took only the lives of those who needed to die,' Gord countered with less anger but iron determination filling his voice.
'Most arrogant and Judgmental!' This came in unison from the four who were the head of the Cabal, the strange Hierophants. 'We object to your attitude, Gord. If you do not dismiss such thinking from yourself immediately, you will be an unfit champion.' Though the four spoke at one time, they were of one mind and one voice so utterly that the words came from each of them simultaneously. The effect was eerie and rather unsettling,
