They would again fight and try to slay each other, as soon as possible. One or more of them would possibly have the advantage of the Theorparts. All of that was as it should be. The demonkings had long ago determined two things: the Abyss would remain a place wherein their kind would rule by the whim of the strongest, and the tripartite relic of the great AllEvil would remain there to assure that.
Evil the demons were and always would be, but evil independent of any overlord, save possibly one of their own who was able to bind them … for a time! Always the wheel turned, and no ruler was safe from overthrow. Tharizdun would never lord it over the Abyss, not while its masters were still in existence and able to resist. Neither would mortals, or morethan-mortals, enter the reaches of demonium and freely slay and take from its greatest what was theirs.
Did the reputed champion of Balance actually desire masteiy of all the Abyss? No matter; his possession of the two Theorparts, combined with the other terrible powers he and his associates bore, were sufficient threat to silly the demon masters against them. Was the man actually an agent of Tharizdun? That seemed possible, too, but the answer made no difference to any of the demons concerned. It was sufficient to know that he was an enemy! After the initial truce on the field from which Zuggtmoy, Iuz, and Iggwilv had fled, whence Orcus had likewise run in panic and then returned with furious determination, where Graz'zt had himself made common cause with his forever-foes, the demons went to the ebon demonking's domain to hold their council.
As noted, this was days later, as men measured time. Graz'zt and others of the great demons wondered how it passed that they were given so long a period to meet, organize, and formulate defenses. The three interlopers possessed sufficient force to have confronted the wielder of the third Theorpart and taken it, even though Graz'zt had the support of the Eye of Deception, his hordes, the Abat-dolor warriors, even the assistance of Orcus and the others of his foes now came over to his side. Each day, however, granted the demons a slightly improved chance to resist, a greater possibility of actually turning the tables and taking the two relics from the man who had them. Why did he hesitate? The question was asked and asked again. No answer came, but even demons don't decry fortune.
'You have the Unbinder, Graz'zt. You must lead us.' That came from the three other demon monarchs there, voiced by Orcus as their spokesdemon. 'I will be at your right, of course, because of my own relic,' he added, displaying the Rod of Unlife with which he ruled the demons of air. 'Marduk and his Firefan are with me, as are Demogorgon and his Venomfountain, so the demons of fire and water are at your right hand too.'
After Marduk and Demogorgon voiced their agreement with the statement, Orcus stepped back, and Graz'zt announced that his reinstated consort, Elazalag, would stand on the left, bearing the Eye of Deception. There she would command the host of demonlords and a score of minor objects of power that those great demons possessed. If a fraction of the demonic objects of power — Zuggtmoy's Cauldron, to name one — were not there, then nothing could be done now. The power of all these minor objects combined was no match for what the enemy would bring, but a million and more demon warriors counted for something. At some point, sheer weight of numbers would perhaps come into play. In such event, the masters of demonium would unquestionably hold the upper hand.
'The humans can perhaps gather a few thousand of the beasts, a hundred of the brutes, but that is insufficient,' the six-fingered demonking cried with hatred. 'Our force will crush them in open battle.'
'If we must go to them. Graz'zt.' Princess Elazalag said, 'then your estimates are wrong. We will never manage to march all of our force to where they lurk in the depths, and in time this alliance will begin to crumble.'
'If we go to them.' Orcus said, 'they will be at a great advantage, for the powers they command can maintain the calling of endless streams of the mindless things inhabiting those tiers, and our relics are less potent in the sinks as well.'
Suddenly a dark, amorphous shape coalesced in the very midst of the assembly of terrible demons. Then allow me to Join you and assist,' it said in a voice as heavy as a mountain, as slow and final as extinction. 'For I have the power to force the enemy to come to you.'
For too long a time Gord and Gellor had remained in the depths of demonium. It was not by the bard's choice that they did so. Gellor asked, then urged, and finally pleaded. His words fell upon seemingly unhealing ears, for his comrade made no response. Gord spoke often and with emotion, but not about their leaving the place. It was a nightmare wilderness, a place as agitated and ugly as a worldly retreat might be serene and beautiful in its lonely uninhabitation. Yet the champion remained there, meditating, scrying, and seemingly taken by alternating fits of depression and reflective musing expressed in long, mournful soliloquies.
'The toll is endless. First my parents, poor Leena, all of my old comrades and associates — Dohojar, Barrel, Timmil, Allton, Chert, dear old Curley Greenleaf. No friend, no love, no one can survive once exposed to me.'
'I survive!' the troubador said firmly in rejection. 'I am here with you now. We have to go on, and we must hurry! No war is won without casualties, Gord. We have always been fighting that war, aware of it or not. The whole struggle now rests with us. The victory is in your hands.'
'Victory?' At that, Gord seemed to shrink into himself. 'No guarantee of a win, none at all. All that is said is that a champion will face Tharizdun as the only hope of keeping the cosmos free of an unending night of evil. You and I are doomed, I think, either way. Now Leda is gone. She is lost forever. …'
'Why say that? Come on, man! Where is your courage?'
'Died with the rest,' was the self-pitying, lethargic reply. 'You know the hopelessness of it all. I have used all of the energies of the Theorparts and Courflamme. No trace, no trace. She is passed into realms beyond any ken of such power as that. . just like Basiliv. Who will be next?'
Gellor shook his young friend by the shoulder. 'See? Think on what you just said. It is the clue we needed. The enemy responsible for the loss of the Demiurge is the very same who has managed to cany off Leda. All we need-'
'All? You know that there is no hope of Basiliv's return. He is gone — gone forever, do you hear?' The words were filled with cold despair. 'If he fell to the same one responsible for Leda's taking, what matter then? It only means that she is lost as surely.'
'And what if Tharizdun is the agency? What if the benighted one has somehow managed to inflict such things upon us? Do you surrender before the fight even commences?'
Gord slumped into silence for long minutes, but Gellor remained, waiting. 'Yes … no … I cannot say. All courses now seem useless. It does not matter if I Join the three portions now, for I have no desire to remain alive.'
'There is the small matter of the rest of the multiverse,' Gellor supplied with burning sarcasm.
He might as well have been speaking to a stump, for the young champion seemed not to hear. Gord lapsed into another of his silences and remained thus for what seemed to Gellor an endless period. Then, without appearing to notice that his comrade was waiting expectantly near, Gord rose and wandered off. Gellor got up to follow, but at that the gray-eyed man turned and spoke. 'I need to be by myself. Stay where you are.'
'This is stupid, Gord! DIvide our force in this place of horrors? That is insanity! I should be there to watch, seeing as how you are-'
'I am moved by a purpose now, Gellor. Mind your own ass while I'm gone. Stay on guard, and stay put,' he admonished. There was a ring in Gord's voice that belied the hopelessness that had previously seemed to pervade the young champion's soul. 'I will return to you as soon as possible, and be ready. I think I have come up with something which might explain all of this.'
Gellor was at a loss, but he did as his friend ordered. Short time or long, there was nothing else to do but await Gord's return.
The Lord of Entropy was keenly aware of what had transpired in the depths of demonium. It was he who had subtly influenced the young champion of Balance — beginning with his removal of the stunned Leda from the grotto of Zuggtmoy. Then Entropy insinuated the lethargy, covering Gord with it as night steals after the fading illumination of a long summer twilight.
All the skeins of Entropy's terrible plan were now nearly woven into the tapestry of his designing. The spinning had taken long, but time was one thing he had. Time worked in Entropy's favor. The many conflicts and destruction, death and decay too, each and all were in the fabric. Tharizdun must arise, but only after the whole of his new domain was in shambles. The Ultimate Evil would have a short reign thereafter, as the last energies of the multiverse dwindled and stasis slowly came. In a few eons, then, only Entropy would remain, as master of a cold,
