Chapter 18
Basiliv and the many lords who formed the Great Council of the Balance were gathered together in a special place. It was a hushed conclave.
The Demiurge was silent. Basiliv had not spoken or given any sign that he was aware of what was happening around him since… something… had struck him down while he had been scrying on the champion's activity and trying to warn Gord of something. Now all the other powers were met and watching as well as they could. What they observed was abstract, cloudy, the events of uncertain occurrence in a temporal sense but positive in their finality.
The two contending pieces, the livid lilac of the demonurgist and the emerald light of Gord, had shifted shape repeatedly as they maneuvered across the checkered field of battle. Parts sloughed off and decayed before the watching eyes of the assemblage. The fall of the two elder demons brought a somber cheer to their throats; then the death images of the heroes reasserted the muffled silence over all once again. Allton. Chert, Greenleaf, Timmil…. The names were as the sound of a bell tolling a dirge.
All were shocked to see the glaring lapis of a solar appear to contend with the enlarged foe. Had Basiliv been able, the Demiurge would have explained that he had worked the dweomer that summoned the mighty being to Gord's assistance. The loss of the dumaldun addition to Gravestone's figure, and the fiery black ring suddenly added to the champion piece, made the group sit up and wonder. Yet they were powerless to intercede, to take part in any form at all. It was a duel to the death between the mortal manifestation of those who supported Tharizdun and that body of heroes who sought to thwart the arising of the great one of evil. Board and men in place, neither side could now make moves for its benefit. This game was strictly played out under the volition of the pieces themselves.
When the final duel began the figures of the antagonists blurred. The power each possessed, the result of their combat, could not be discerned. Then the board itself began to melt and crumble. The Lords of Balance broke the scrying immediately.
* * *
In his depths, Infestix, too, watched the struggle. Because of the critical nature of this confrontation, the daemon monarch was again alone. None of the other mighty ones of the netherworld were privy to what Infestix watched. Neither devils nor demons had any piece in this portion of the game. They had no direct channel to the event, and the great magics surrounding it easily screened out any attempt to penetrate and observe. It made the daemon's dark spirit exult to know that even Gravestone was unaware of being so observed. The priest-wizard was too powerful, too ambitious. Infestix would always watch his every move henceforward.
When Shabriri and Pazuzeus appeared at Gravestone's beck and call, the master of the pits grew paler still with his fury. He was almost gleeful when those fell beings were blasted, but then the horrible form of the solar sprang onto the board.
Still, the daemon allowed with grudging admiration for his human lieutenant. Gravestone had managed to bind the two elder demons to himself without alerting Infestix to the fact. The priest-wizard might Just have other secret powers to spring on the enemy. Gravestone could be annihilated for all the daemon monarch cared. The demonurgist meant nothing — less than nothing — to Infestix. He must not fall to the one of the Balance, though. Never! That would create a new force for the enemy, place them one step closer to success in their desire to prevent the rising of EMI, the return of Tharizdun. Let Gravestone deal with Gord; then he, Infestix, would squash the overweening little priest-wizard as his final act before freeing the great dark soul.
Parts of each force fell away. The daemon was happy to observe the losses to Balance, uneasy when he saw the damage being inflicted on the compound figure that was his own right hand, his chosen force there. Although he was unaware that his foes too watched, Infestix observed and saw in finer detail than they did. First came the utter destruction of much of his lieutenant's power. Then the innermost citadel was blasted and the whole field of play, the terrible place Gravestone had created, began to disintegrate. With a vile oath, the master of the nether-pits forced the scrying into closer, sharper image. He would see the outcome down to the last!
Just then a dark veil seemed to drop, and the daemon was left unseeing. Infestix was powerless to prevent that from happening — as helpless as Basiliv had been just a short time before.
In the place of no-time and no-space where Tharizdun stirred, there was a ripple. The nothingness wavered. The dark form of the greatest of evil convulsed. Then it sat upright with a sound that was like the rattling of ethereal chains of adamantite.
Observe the observers…. The thought made the entity laugh. Ordered steps bringing chaos. Good and evil now locked in melee, now ignoring one another. Balance, those tiresome little neutrals seeking vainly to triumph. Well, perhaps…
Then the entity laughed silently again to itself. It had succeeded with interference so subtle as to be undetectable until now. And what matter if it had been revealed? The steps taken were so clever and potent that none could ever discover that the players of the game were themselves made pawns of itself… until it was too late. The contest would play itself out to the conclusion, but that end was predestined now, a forced game above a game, and the entity was the sole master of both struggles. Soon, there would be no need for subterfuges such as this. Soon all would be as was inevitable.
Chapter 19
'No, I am sound.'
That reply from Geilor was all Gord needed to hear. Then get up, and let's get out of here,' he urged, grabbing the bard by one hand and pulling to help him stand.
The entire place was shaking. It wasn't much more than a gentle swaying now, but a few moments earlier it had been only a barely imperceptible trembling. Thanks,' Geilor said as the two men ran along the dark passage that led up and out of the labyrinth. 'But how in the blazing brass buckets of the hells are we going to get free of this place? I think it's beginning to crumble!'
The same stairs we came up,' Gord panted in reply, 'must be the link that son of a bitch maintained between this place and his headquarters in Greyhawk.'
'You're not certain.'
'Uh-uh,' Gord grunted the admission. 'What's the difference? You were right. The whole plane is falling apart now that the dirty demonkisser has gone down.'
'Okay,' the bard said and let it go. He was in no shape to waste further breath, not after the pounding he had taken. Gellor looked at Gord, seeing his comrade was in rough shape, too. Then the one-eyed troubador grinned. 'We just booted that bastard's ass into the pits!'
'You got it,' Gord said tersely. Then he grinned back. His face was lined, older-looking than it had been before all of this started. But at that moment he looked almost boyish again.
Gellor had tracked Gord to the demonurgist's lair. That hadn't been hard, for the champion of Balance had scratched marks all along his route — the instinctive procedures of a master thief. The two followed these same signs now, and they reversed their route as quickly as they could. The deep purples and violent lavenders of the dead priest-wizard's domain were paling. The stuff of the quasi-plane was cracking, flaking, crumbling around the edges. 'How much longer?' Gellor shouted as they pounded toward the dais area.
It was getting difficult to run. The whole little universe was now shaking violently with an increasing swing. It took concentration to maintain balance and force one running foot to come down ahead of the other so as not to tumble and sprawl. 'Not long enough to worry about. There's the staircase — can you manage Chert?'
'I'll manage,' Gellor shot back. 'You just take care of Curley.'
Just then the whole of the floating disc tilted. The troubador was thrown against Gord, and both men tumbled uncontrollably toward the canted edge. With a wild surge of effort, the small champion forced his body to roll in the
