fighters come. Iggwilv, Mother of Evil, had come before them and freed the demoness Zuggtmoy. But as these minions of Good lamented their failure, there were those not allied to Evil who rejoiced at Iggwilv's success. Mordenkainen, one who had secretly aided the plan to free the monstrous demoness, was among them.
Thirteen stone chairs stand above the many lesser seats in the Hall of Dread in Molag. Five to either hand are smaller and lower than the three in the center. Thirteen thrones for the thirteen Hierarchs, the Dread and Awful Presences who rule the Horned Society. Only three of the chairs were empty. The trio of the tallest thrones remained vacant as the Hierarchs took their places — five to the right, five to the left. Officials and military officers filed in to stand below the thrones.
Down the isle left unusually broad by the press of lesser masters of the Horned Society — humanoid chieftains, bandit leaders, all — wafted a terrible stench. As the foul odor came, the ranks compacted tighter still, and a wide space was made wider by this movement. Behind the decaying stink came something from which eyes turned away in revulsion. Before the thrones and the ten Hierarchs came Anthraxus the Decayed, Daemonking of Hades. It is worthy of note that the ten who sat upon the stone chairs did not avert their eyes as the monstrous figure glided toward them.
'Greetings, Lord of Glooms,' said the greatest of the remaining ten Hierarchs, acknowledging Anthraxus by the least of his titles as if in challenge.
The Daemonking made no sign that he had noticed the affront. 'And to you all,' the thing replied in a voice that seemed to issue from an empty chest and a throat choked with maggots. 'I am come at the behest of Nerull to assist you in your war.'
None of the ten flinched at the mention of the war, even though they had only today received news that masses of Iuz's troops were marching through the northern regions of their realm. Again the greatest spoke.
'We serve Evil and acknowledge Nerull as Overlord. We likewise serve the same ends as Thee, but why is it that Our One Master does not Himself come?'
The great oinodaemon sneered and puffed out a cloud of foetid breath in answer. 'Play not fools, you remaining Hierarchs! Isn't the loss of three of your number enough to teach you your place?'
The spokesman seemed totally unaffected by the implication of the question. 'You mean as His servants?' he replied in an icy, level tone.
'What else?' Anthraxus shot back in a voice that would sicken any normal listener.
'Of course, Lord of Glooms, just as you come to us…' and the spokesman allowed his voice to trail off but raised a finger and spoke again. 'The Three who represented Tar-terus, Hades, and Gehenna are gone. We have not yet had the trials which will elevate three of our own number to these exalted positions — and bring three lessers to sit with the Ten. Until we are Three and Ten once again, our power is insufficient against that rebel who opposes the Unification!'
'You waste My time!' Anthraxus said in a voice that coughed and choked.
'No, Master of Daemonkind, you are wasting your time — and ours too. We Ten erred, but not as did the former Three. It is not my place to question the removal of the offenders by the Master of Us All, but I do state now that unless the Society is given aid, we — and the Unification — are in jeopardy.'
'Do not place undue importance on yourselves or your petty realm!' the oinodaemon wheezed angrily.
'Then why did Lord Nerull send you to us?' the speaker asked mildly.
Anthraxus shook his rotting, ramlike head in frustration. 'I am come to make certain you make no further errors!'
'And…'
'To aid you against the might of that fungi-fornicating, toad-spawned, whelp of a miserable little demon princeling, Iuz!'
The spokesman nodded, with neither pride nor fear in expression or the voiced statement that followed. 'Now we understand fully, Lord of Hades, but there is that which must be spoken. What if the cambion gains the Second Key?'
'Then you will take it from him,' the ghastly, diseased voice of the oinodaemon rasped, 'and I shall be there to see you do not fail again!'
Bits of decaying matter fell from Anthraxus, dropping here and there as he went. The oinodaemon had been standing before the Ten of the Hierarchs for an extended period, and a small circle of the putrescent matter had accumulated around his filthy greatcloak. As he was about to turn and leave, he saw the faces of the enthroned Ten turn pale, eyes start, hands shake. He followed their staring gaze down to the hem of the garment, where the litter of rotting stuff oozed and stank. The stuff had become a fairy ring of fungi, tiny zygoms sprouting from the rot.
At that moment Anthraxus felt fear crawl through his plagued body.
Obmi and the crazed elf, Keak, moved carefully once they were well beyond Littleberg. They rode sharply west to gain the no-man's-land between Veluna and Furyondy. Once therein, they veered northward again toward the great forest above. It was dangerous going for them, with patrols to avoid, groups of bandits to dodge or evade, and occasional brushes with feral animals or night-stalking monsters to deal with. Despite all that, Obmi was satisfied with their progress. Keak had told the dwarf about the curious elf, the last probable pursuer they had. But none followed, none knew where he went, and he had the prize!
Scarcely a sennight after leaving Littleberg, they came to the seedy little village of Stump. Obmi sought an agent of Iuz there, but none were to be found. In fact, because of Keak they were virtually treated as untouchables by the folk of the village. The residents of Stump had a reputation for aiding and abetting outlaws and reavers if they were paid. There were places to dispose of stolen goods in the village, brothels and a gambling hall for disposing of excess coin. Elven knights had been to the village just days before. Their men-at-arms (elves-at-arms, to be correct) had searched the whole community and discovered property that could be identified as stolen goods. Villagers were hanged on the spot, and a half-dozen were carried off for questioning. That, Obmi thought, explained why there was no help for them there. They stayed and debauched themselves a day or two anyway, for the dwarf thought a second visit from the knights improbable.
As he had hoped, a scar-faced half-orc and several men appeared in Stump asking for a dwarf. The villagers, thinking that these ruffians had come to kill both Obmi and Keak, cheerfully directed the group to where the dwarf and elf swilled cheap wine and sported. Obmi killed the proprietor of the establishment as he looked expectantly for an attack upon the pair of customers he would have murdered himself if he dared. Laughing, Keak dragged the best-looking of the women from the place. In a few minutes they were riding into the edge of the towering forest, and the low folk of the village quickly forgot that they had ever been in Stump.
The going was slow but steady. The half-orc was the leader and the three men who served him were skilled woodsmen. After seeing the dwarfs hammer in action, none questioned his assumption of leadership. Keak was even more feared than Obmi because of the elfs absolute unpredictability. There were stations — lone huts, tiny thorps, or hidden places — where they found a safe night's rest, food, even fresh mounts. After a few days more men and a handful of arboreal ores joined them as reinforcements. The arboreal ores were new to both Obmi and Keak. The creatures seemed to show a strong strain of ape, and this fascinated both dwarf and elf.
Eventually, Keak gave the woman to the ape-ores and they soon killed her.
By then the band was halfway through the Vesve, and Iuz sent Obmi word that a fitting escort was coming to bring them safely to Dorakaa.
At this same time, almost at the same moment, Mordenkainen himself took the field. With him were his trusted henchmen of old, as well as the gray elf fighter and magic-user, Melf, and several companies of deadly elves and hard foresters. The archmage had waited quietly as the Second Key came ever nearer to him. Now he would strike quickly, take the thing, and return with it to the Citadel. Then let Evil rave and threaten, let the forces of Good demand. He would hold the Key and with it would withstand such threats easily.
As long as the factions of the malign fought and quarreled, as long as men established nations and states and fought among themselves, this long would there be need for those who saw the whole as a slowly turning wheel. Neutral, even though generally despising true evilness, the Obsidian Citadel would remain strong and assist the balance. The possession of the Second Key guaranteed that.
Why then, Mordenkainen wondered as he set about his foray, did the Hierophants of the Cabal not support him? Jealousy, he supposed. That must be the reason.
