Pages of Pain p-1

by Troy Denning

The Amnesian Hero returned his gaze to the tiefling. "If you think I'll buy my own life at the expense of an innocent…"

  "How can you say Trevant is innocent? He betrayed me!"

  "Be that as it may, I won't help you." Caught by both legs now, the Amnesian Hero began to slide more rapidly toward the puddle. He stared into the mud. "Will you help me or not?"

  "I suppose I must." Jayk's voice was both sharp and resigned. "You are too handsome to become one with Ooze."

  The tiefling threw a small sliver of glass into the mud, at the same time speaking the words of a simple incantation. The ooze started to stiffen, the writhing of the tendrils slowed, and a glassy sheen spread over the surface of the puddle. A deep, penetrating cold pierced the Thrasson's leg, then he ceased sliding.

  "Why do you wait, Zoombee? Cut yourself free!"

  With both legs caught, the Amnesian Hero found it much more difficult to reach the mud. When he did slice into the icy muck, however, it stayed cut, and he soon freed the newly caught foot. After that, it was a simple matter to hack a large block from the puddle. Dragging a leg twice its normal length behind him, he crawled a short distance down the alley and began to hammer at the frozen sludge.

  A few blows later, he had knocked the worst of the icy mud off his legs. In the dim light, he could not tell how quickly the color was returning to his chilly flesh. He felt a slight, aching bum as his elongated leg resumed its normal proportions, then his skin began to nettle as it does after being extremely cold. He still had no feeling below the ankle, and the foot itself gleamed with the same faint glow he had earlier observed on the surface of the mud.

  The Thrasson rose and limped along the edge of the puddle, both testing his legs and searching for clues as to the fate of Tessali and the white-gowned woman.

  "Zoombee, what are you looking for?"

  "Signs of Tessali and the woman we saw in Rivergate. They were supposed to have come down this alley."

  "Who tells you a thing like that?"

  The Amnesian Hero stopped and looked up. "A barbazu."

  "And you believe him? I see Tessali in the street-searching for that glitter girl in white." Jayk shook her head sadly. "Poor Zoombee, he even trusts fiends."

  The Thrasson flushed again, feeling foolish for allowing his enthusiasm to overcome his judgment. "I did have him at a disadvantage." Still, he sheathed his sword and, seeing no other way back to Jayk, went to the edge of the ooze portal. "Can I walk on this?"

  "Until it thaws."

  The Amnesian Hero limped across the ice, then stopped at Jayk's side. "I am in your debt. Perhaps I can help you recover your spellbooks, but I won't-"

  "Harm Trevant, I know. That is fine. You must live by the rules of your delusions." Jayk looked at his sandaled foot, then added, "Now we must go. We must find a healer before your foot thaws."

  The Thrasson scowled at his glimmering foot. "What happens then?"

  "It probably does not matter, if you still wish to see the Lady of Pain." Jayk turned toward the mouth of the alley. "But you were in the ooze too long; it has taken your foot. If a healer does not restore it before the mud thaws, the portal will finish its work."

  The Amnesian Hero cast an uneasy glance at his glimmering foot, then picked up the amphora and turned to limp after Jayk.

  Two paces away, the tiefling had stopped to stare at four slender figures with clouds of white hair piled high atop their heads. They had small coin-shaped noses, deep-set eyes, and squat brows with two sets of horns – one pair straight and one pair curled. All four beings were calmly stacking stones across the mouth of the alley, an activity strangely at odds with their flowing, elaborately embroidered robes.

  Jayk raised a hand to her mouth and retreated, backing into the Amnesian Hero. She stopped, but did not turn around or speak.

  "What's happening here?" the Thrasson asked. "Why are you so afraid?"

  "Dabus!"

  When Jayk offered no further explanation, the Amnesian Hero pushed the amphora into her arms. Placing one hand on the hilt of his sword, he stepped forward and pointed at the wall.

  "What are you doing here?"

  In unison, the dabus stooped over as though to pick up something. Although the Amnesian Hero could see no loose stones on the ground, when they rose again, each held a flat rock in his hands. They placed the stones on the wall, then bent down to get another.

  "Answer me."

  The Thrasson stepped forward and thrust his heel against the wall, kicking a small gap open. Normally, he would never have been so rude, but he was alarmed by Jayk's reaction. The dabus merely picked up the dislodged stones and returned them to their places.

  The Amnesian Hero kicked the stones again. "Answer me."

  The dabus stopped working and, still ignoring the Thrasson, turned to each other. Their mouths began to work, spewing long streams of symbols into the air. There were no sounds, merely strange combinations of pictures and signs that hung about their heads like hummingbirds.

  After a brief consultation, two dabus bent down and retrieved a pair of war-axes from the same mysterious place they retched the stones. As they stepped over the wall, the Amnesian Hero noticed for the first time that their feet – if the dabus had any beneath the hems of their long robes – did not touch the street.

  The Thrasson stepped back and drew his sword.

  Jayk was at his side instantly. "No, Zoombee! You mustn't strike them!" She thrust the amphora into his arms, precluding any chance that he would. "We are in enough trouble!"

  "Trouble?"

  "They are building a maze. You should summon the Lady of Pain now, while you still can."

  The Amnesian Hero ran his gaze around the alley. "Then she's near?"

  "The Lady is always near," Jayk replied. "All you need do is pray to her."

  "Pray?"

  "Yes. She always appears to those who pray to her."

  "And then what?"

  Jayk's face paled to a pearly gray. "Then she flays us – alive, yes?"

  "No, not us." The Amnesian Hero did not bother to ask why the Lady would want to flay them. Having explained many times that he had only come to deliver a gift, he was beginning to realize that Sigil's residents did not understand their queen. "There's no reason for you to be here. I'll pray alone. This armor was forged by Hephaestus himself, and even Apollo's arrows cannot pierce it. I doubt the Lady of Pain's wrath will rend it."

  The shadow returned to Jayk's face, but she made no move to leave. "It is better to accept our pain here than to be trapped in the mazes forever."

  "Phah! In Arborea, we play mazes for fun." The Thrasson leaned the amphora against the alley wall. "And there is no reason for you to stay. This is not your doing."

  Jayk smiled and glanced toward the mouth of the alley, where the dabus had already raised their wall to waist height. She shook her head. "That is not for you to decide."

  "Perhaps not, but the Lady already intends to imprison me. What do I have to lose by forcing her dabus to release you?"

  The Thrasson strode forward and faced the two armed dabus. He gestured at Jayk with his sword. "She has no part in this. As men – er, beings – of honor, I ask you to release her."

  The dabus held their axes at port arms and watched him carefully, but made no other response. The Amnesian Hero waved Jayk forward. When the expressions of the Lady's servants did not change, he sheathed his sword and turned his back on them.

  "Wait for me outside." The Amnesian Hero leaned close to embrace Jayk, at the same time slipping the golden thread from his purse. He pressed it into her palm and whispered, "When you hear me praying, hold the end and throw the spool over the wall. It will not be long before I return to help you retrieve your spellbooks."

  "Zoombee!"

  Jayk pulled away and tipped her chin back, her lips barely parted. Tempted as he was, the Amnesian Hero did not accept the invitation. The tiefling's eyes were closed, and her mouth was not open far enough to see whether her fangs had descended. He grabbed her by th
e waist and spun her toward the wall, lifting her over in one swift motion. Without breaking rhythm, one of the dabus builders took her from the Thrasson and set her on the ground.

  The Amnesian Hero sighed in relief. Before undertaking a feat so perilous as summoning the Lady of Pain, true men of renown always saw their beautiful maidens to safety. He retrieved the amphora, then went to the center of the alley and kneeled in meditation, trying to think of a proper prayer for Sigil's ruler.

  Because he knew so little about her, the task was a difficult one. Beseeching her for mercy was out of the question, of course, as was singing the praises of pain; in his experience, the worst kind of supplication was an insincere one.

  By the time he recalled the strange riddles from the Gatehouse and realized what to say, the dabus had raised their wall to chest height. The Amnesian Hero laid the amphora on the ground before him, carefully arranging it so that it lay exactly parallel to the walls, then sat back on his haunches and crossed his arms over his chest.

  By the hunger of change and emotion,

  By the thirst of unbearable things,

  By despair, the twin-born of devotion,

  By the pleasure that winces and stings,

  The delight that consumes the desire,

  The desire that outruns the delight,

  By the cruelty deaf as a fire

  And blind as the night,

  By the ravenous teeth that have smitten

  Through the kisses that blossom and bud,

  By the lips intertwisted and bitten

  Till the foam has a savor of blood,

  By the pulse as it rises and falters,

  By the hands as they slacken and strain,

  I adjure thee, respond from thine altars,

  Our Lady of Pain.

  The prayer is, I think, the most beautiful ever uttered in Sigil. How it speaks to me! Of reckless yearnings pursued unto misery, of secret lusts that are themselves unbearable torments. Pleasure and pain, they are one; hope nurtures despair, love breeds loss, joy begets sorrow-this Thrasson, he knows me for the thing I am. His fine words I would forgive, if I could.

  But this is Sigil. Here, no god may enter – and if the Thrasson prays to me, what do I become but a god?

  It must not be. The doors would open; the city itself would crumble, and there I would stand, one alone against all the gods of the multiverse. With chains of starlight and axes of fire, they would come for me, the bad and the good, and make a war to sunder the planes themselves.

  What then? With Pain caged in the deepest Abyss and bound to the will of Demogorgon or Diinkarazan or some other god of wickedness, what then? I will tell you: tyranny and cowardice, darkness in every plane, and fear in every breath; a single foul ruler himself ruled by hungers foul beyond imagining, all the multiverse his to pillage and to ravish as he desires.

  And worse still, if good prevails: endless worlds of endless ease, with no suffering to build strength, no anguish to breed courage, no fear to foster cunning; a multiverse of middling passions and bland hungers, where nothing is ventured because nothing can be lost, where no anger is consuming, no love passionate, and no life worth living.

  I have no choice in the matter. For the good of the multiverse, I must punish the Thrasson – but do not think I have forgotten the tiefling. She taught him to pray, and for that I will be avenged.

  I open my eyes, and the Lady of Pain is there before him, her feet still touching the dirt so he cannot see her. He waits with his arms crossed over his chest and that amphora lying on the ground before him. He is a clever one, this Hunter. If I forgive his prayer-still the most beautiful ever spoken in Sigil-his master will be the first to storm my doors; yet, the instant I punish him, he will open his jar and release that enchanted net it carries.

  But he has forgotten my children. I have but to desire and the dabus perform. Already, the two axe-bearers have drifted forward to remove the amphora. They stop beside it.

  "Leave that be!" The Amnesian Hero's eyes grow as round as coins. "Poseidon sent it for the Lady of Pain!"

  My children honor him with a reply, but if the Thrasson can read their rebuses, he does not care that they are acting on my wishes. He stands and reaches for his sword. One dabus picks up the amphora, and the other raises his axe to do battle. I lift one foot off the ground, then the other, and-

  – suddenly the Lady of Pain was there. Like the dabus, she hung a little in the air, the hem of her long, brocaded gown hovering just inches above the dirt. The Amnesian Hero forgot about his sword – and the dabus and his amphora as well – and let his jaw drop. The Lady was a striking beauty, tall and slender, with classic features and an aura of inviolable' serenity. She had a halo of steel blades instead of hair, lips as black as kohl, and unflinching yellow eyes that kindled a sick, feverish fear in the Thrasson's breast.

  Still kneeling, the Amnesian Hero placed his hands on his thighs and bowed deeply. His palms felt hot and wet against his bronze cuisses.

  "Greetings. I am the Amnesian Hero of Thrassos, bearing a gift from the god Poseidon, K-king of Seas and C-cleaver of Lands." He gestured behind him, where the dabus had retreated to the wall with the amphora. "With your p-permission-"

  The Lady raised her hand, and the Amnesian Hero stopped talking. She fixed her sulfurous gaze on him and, for the first time, truly seemed to see him. Thinking she was about to speak, the Thrasson held his bow. Though he remained absolutely motionless, he kept his toes bent, so that he could spring to his feet quickly. If she attacked, as everyone seemed to believe she would, he had every intention of defending himself.

  The Lady curled her fingers into a black-nailed claw, which she dragged downward through the air. A loud, metallic squeal arose behind the Thrasson, and something shoved his face toward the ground. He caught himself on his hands, then glanced over his shoulder. There was no one behind him save the dabus guards, standing several paces away, as motionless as statues and still holding the amphora. Their two companions had nearly completed the wall; the crest stood only a row short of a man's height.

  The Amnesian Hero felt several ridges of bronze pressing into his back, then realized that his god-forged armor had actually been dented. He looked back to the Lady of Pain. Several of her fingernails were broken, and her brow was raised ever so slightly. It occurred to the Thrasson that he had just survived an assault by Sigil's fearsome ruler. To his surprise, he found that he was less terrified than confused about what to do next.

  As the Lady showed no sign of continuing her attack, he elected to turn his palms up and spread them wide to show he meant no harm. "Please, milady, do not fear me."

  The shadow of a smirk flashed across her mouth. She extended a single finger.

  "I come in peace." Again, the Thrasson gestured at the amphora. "I only want to deliver this gift from Poseidon."

  The Lady drew her finger through the air, and again the creak of folding metal rang off the alley walls. The Thrasson rocked backward, giving way to a terrific pressure against his chest. He looked down to see a long groove running the length of his breastplate, as though some enchanted weapon had struck him a mighty blow. Despite the amicable nature of his mission, a seething anger began to build in his stomach.

  "Until now, I have tried to comport myself peacefully." The Thrasson sprang to his feet, dropping a hand to the hilt of his star-forged sword. "But I warn you, this armor was made by Hephaestus himself. I will suffer no further damage to it."

  The Lady slightly narrowed her eyes, then curled her hand into a fist. The screech of crumpling metal rang in the Thrasson's ears. His chest filled with shooting pains, and he looked down to see his corselet reshaping itself into the figure of an hourglass. Only the anguish in his body convinced him that he was seeing something real. No foe had ever dented his god-forged armor, and he could scarcely believe the Lady of Pain was crashing it without so much as a blow.

  The Thrasson's body believed. His aching ribs made soft popping sounds, and his breath left him and woul
d not return. Hurting too much to scream, he dropped to his knees and fumbled his dagger from its sheath. He jammed the tip beneath the first buckle and cut the strap. His lungs filled with air, but the crashing anguish in his stomach deepened. Not worrying that the blade might slip and cut him, the Amnesian Hero shoved the knife down the crooked seam and severed the other two straps. The armor fell away, clanging softly into the dirt.

  Even before the pain began to recede, the Amnesian Hero was on his feet and reaching for his sword. He would win no combats against the Lady of Pain-or anyone who, like the gods themselves, used magic without casting spells – but Hades had heard his prayer for a glorious death, and the Thrasson would not squander the honor by dying poorly. In fact, he found himself looking forward to the battle; a valiant effort would secure his name – or rather his legend – a place in the songs of bards throughout the multiverse.

  It was not to be. His sword had not even cleared its scabbard before a loud clatter erupted from the far side of the wall.

  "Zoombee!" The golden thread came arcing into the alley, unspooling as it flew, then the stones in the dabus' wall began to tremble.

  The Lady of Pain pivoted her blade-haloed head toward the sound. The Thrasson drew his sword, but resisted the urge to attack. Despite appearances, he was quite certain that his powerful foe had not forgotten about him.

  Jayk pulled her torso atop the wall, then froze in shock as she found herself looking down at the Lady of Pain. "By the One Death!"

  The Lady raised a hand, as though to help the tiefling over.

  Jayk's face went as pale as pearls, then the stones resumed their trembling. She glanced behind her and frowned, then granted and began to flail her legs at something.

  "Don't fight me!" The voice was Tessali's. "This is for your own – huh!"

  Jayk landed a kick, then hoisted herself entirely onto the wall and, like a rope-dancer, ran along the crest. The long-fingered hand of an elf caught her ankle, and she pitched headlong off the wall, crashing down upon the two dabus guards. The amphora came free of their grasp and thudded to the ground, rolling clear as a tangled heap of tiefling and dabus crashed down behind it.