Dance of Demons

by Gary Gygax

  The three sped across the cold wastes, moving with strides which would have left the swiftest courser behind, yet moving without exertion as if they merely strolled at a leisurely pace through a pleasant parkland. Even at such a rate of travel, a few of the hunters of the tier managed to stay on their trail as hounds would track a stag.

  "Our blood is to such monsters as gold is to a miser's eyes," Leda said in response to the bard's query about the phenomenon. "The scent of it will draw beast and brute from leagues distant to get at us."

  "Mezzafgraduun knows no such monsters?"

  "No, Gord. The swamps and tangles of the jungle which rings the place have many ferocious things within, but none so fearsome as the brutes here."

  Gord actually grinned. "I know you told me that before, and it isn't that I doubted you. I just had to have your second assurance after seeing this desert. It is exactly what I had hoped for."

  "An icy waste of rock and nightmare scrub populated with such creatures as would make dragons flee gibbering in fear? I confess my absolute amazement," Gellor said in a tone of disgust. "My nerves are as taut as the strings of the kanteel."

  "How long will such things survive in a warmer clime, lady?" Gord asked the beautiful little dark elf, ignoring Gellor.

  "There are a dozen or so beasts in the demonking"s menagerie — even a monstrous demon-brute was caged therein for a short time. Graz'zt used it in his games, though."

  "Then let us be on the safe side and try to round up a dozen or two of the worst sort we can," Gord said, grinning again with boyish glee.

  "You wouldn't. . . ." Gellor said with an expression of dawning understanding spreading across his face.

  The gray eyes sparkled back at the bard. "Oh, but I would. We will, to be exact. You, my dear old troubador, will stand ready to put down any recalcitrant brute with the dweomer of your harp. Leda, you will use the Theorpart to draw them to us quickly but with whatever humility and fear such things can experience and retain within their minds, dim as they might be. I, In turn, will see to it that they remain tractable and nonaggressive to us. Courflamme will be sufficient, I am sure!"

  "And then?" Gellor asked with near sarcasm. The scheme sounded preposterous, considering what sort of monsters Gord had in mind.

  "Yes, Gord. Are you sure—"

  "You two must trust me on this. We must make an entrance upon Mezzafgraduun, and gam the palace of Graz'zt thereafter. We have no guards, no army, nothing to demonstrate our might. Yes, I do believe we could accomplish the journey without mishap, and after we cut down a few thousand of the demonking's own, he might be willing to hear what we have to propose to him. But that would be a poor way to begin a delicate negotiation. Graz'zt would be smarting from the loss of face and the loss of his soldiers, and the loss of the Eye would then burn as a midsummer sun on the brow of a serf."

  Gord gestured around, taking in the whole sweeping harshness of the fell wild. "From this barren we will bring an escort of creatures which the great amongst demonkind hold deadly and fierce. So many will we bend to our will that the loss of a few from combats in the jungles of Mezzafgraduun, and from whatever heat and pestilences will be there as well, will not detract from the spectacle of our appearance before the capitol of the ebon monarch." He paused, looking at his old comrade first, then at Leda.

  "Why do you look at me so?" she asked.

  "To gain your confidence — only I keep forgetting just how breathtakingly lovely you are, so my eyes lingered overlong."

  Drow elves are of black complexion, a hue as glossy and ebon as alabaster is shining white. At his words Leda flushed, and her ebon cheeks were brightened as if suddenly highlighted by fiery opalescence. "Stop that! You make me feel as if I am a giddy child, and in this place you need a far different sort of companion."

  "Do stop the billing and cooing, you two. If this craze-brained scheme is to work, we must get to it — and mind our asses in the process! See — there crouches something now, come to devour us all as you flirt!"

  * * *

  The particular horror the bard had pointed to fell to a saurian behemoth in a duel of mutual destruction immediately after the strange procession entered the ringing rain forest of Mezzafgraduun proper. It was fortunate for the three that all of the demonbrutes they had by now subdued and forced to form their train were swift, for the great stratum was immense in its dimensions. At the astounding rate of fifty leagues per day the three crossed forest and swamp, and still it took them a sennight to pass from there to the sooty-grassed savanna beyond.

  It was fortunate as well that they had little need for rest, let alone actual sleep. Some of the things in tow were as cunning as they were ravenous and deadly. Two demon-brutes were executed in turn for their insistent attempts to savage and devour the humans. Three of the monsters succumbed in the sweltering heat of the grassland; another was killed in a fight with a pack of myriapod carnivores with shovel-toothed mouths set in wolverinelike heads. Thus, by sheer chance, they passed through the thousand miles of jungles and arrived upon the central plateau of the demonking with exactly a dozen of the huge things still alive and full of ferocity.

  The plateau was populated by many demons. As soon as the humans and their caravan of horrors left the obscuring foliage, word flashed through the place. When they had come within a hundred miles of Graz'zt's own citadel, the three were met by an army of demons, the ebon demonking himself at their head.

  Graz'zt, just as all other mighty ones of the netherspheres, was cognizant of the humans' intrusion, of Infestix's fate, and of the transfer of the Theorpart the daemon had held to the hands of another. Again as with all others, though, the great Graz'zt had been unable to determine exactly what was occurring, where the Theorpart was located, and why things transpired as they did.

  The defeat of Infestix had resulted in the hurried departure of Demogorgon with his hordes. That had been a boon, no doubt. Certain minor nobles had again sided with him, and thus Graz'zt found the ranks of his defending armies replenished and almost solid again. Then again, Vuron's return, with Nergel and Palvlag and the remnants of their force, gave the demonking both added power and a reserve. Scouts and mobile companies only were needed to cover the borders of his empire away from the lines where Iuz and the allied demon lords attacked. Graz'zt was fighting a one-front war again.

  He had dismissed Vastyi the Toadmaster to return to Oerth and harry the realm of Iuz there. Kostchichie and his battalions of demon-ogres and demon-giants now commanded the left front, Yeenoghu the right, and Vuron the central force — that last despite the albino's disgrace at having lost the Eye of Deception.

  Oh, yes! Graz'zt knew full well the treachery of the drow Eclavdra — no, her name was Leda! He had forced the truth out of Vuron. It had been a near thing for the albino. Graz'zt had considered executing his steward, and in fact imprisonment and torture had been commenced when the shift in power sent tremors through the Abyss as would an earthquake. The force at Graz'zt's disposal had been cut by almost a third, but the power of his foes had been reduced by half. On a strict reckoning of arcane energies, the demonking now had parity with the attackers, although the innate powers of his foes, and their numbers in massed soldiers, still heavily favored them.

  "What would you have me do with you, faithless dog?" he had demanded of the battered Vuron.

  "Free me to serve you, my King," the stick-thin albino had rasped. "Even thus, Lord, I sense that there is new hope arising for you. The . . . the . . . object I allowed to be stolen from you is not in the hands of an antagonist!"

  "No, you pale fool? It now rests in Elazalag's possession on iyondagur!" Graz'zt paused and watched Vuron as he informed the demonlord of that. He and the ruler of the sundered nine clans of the Abat-dolor were bitter enemies. "What would you suggest I do about that?"

  Vuron hesitated only for the space of a heartbeat or two, then spoke through his dry and half-crushed throat. "Make peace with Princess Elazalag, my King. Offer to reunite all the lands of your
race, tell her you wish her to rule beside you as queen. Promise anything, do anything. She will bring not only the return of your object of power. Lord — Elazalag will come with her wild warbands of Abat-dolor warriors, the hippokeres squadrons. With such force at your disposal, I can — you can — stop your enemies in their tracks, even launch a counterstroke into the marches of Shubgottla____ "

  He ceased speaking, for the dark demon was laughing. "Ah! Wouldn't that petal-skinned Baphomet snort and bellow in rage and fear at the devastation of his own lands?" Graz'zt said with a hearty voice. "You never cease to amaze me, Vuron. You are made of stuff not found elsewhere in demonium, I think Even while in extremis, you plan and advise as if seated at my right hand on a padded chair of honor. You counsel reconciliation with she who is your worst enemy!"

  "That is so, my Liege."

  "Free him!" Graz'zt commanded. The skuda guardian nearby moved on scorpion legs to obey, and in a minute the albino stood on his feet again, reeling but alive. "I have not fully exacted punishment for your failure yet Steward," the demonking said stonily. "You are too useful for me to kill just now, however. You will return to the front, assume command of the center, and defend my realm with your life."

  "Yes, King Graz'zt," Vuron croaked with as much vitality as he could muster.

  "And I will take your suggestions too respecting Elazalag. If they prove sound, then she and my Eye will soon be here. I will thank you then, but she might well demand your head as her price for coming."

  "So be it. I will serve as you command."

  * * *

  Now the albino worked at the defense, his personal emissaries called upon the court of iyondagur, and Graz'zt stood facing the human niggling who had dared to enter the Abyss and steal a Theorpart. With the demonking were his best and most efficient regiments. Ten thousand strong, the guard, with twice that number just out of sight to either hand, marching at quick-step to encircle the brash interlopers. Graz'zt himself held Unbinder.

  That figured out to ten thousand soldiers to handle the dozen brutes in the tram, and ten thousand each for the troubador with his deadly kanteel and the drow who carried a strangely drained Initiator. Graz'zt and Unbinder would manage the little man and his sword. That made the ebon-hued demon feel energized. The Theorpart to counter the magics of the human, his own inky blade to kiss the one wielded by this so-called champion. Doomscreamer was twice the length and ten times the weight of the puny blade the little fellow bore so jauntily.

  "He envisions ill, Gord," Leda whispered as the towering demonking halted to confront them at a short distance.

  "That he bodes so is certain," Gord concurred in like voice. Then he regarded Graz'zt and spoke loudly to the demon. "Put aside such thoughts, Graz'zt the Abat-dolor. The brand you so treasure would not withstand the first touch of Courflamme's edge. Neither will the thousands who skulk to either hand suffice to equal the might of Lord Gellor and Lady Leda. We have come in good faith. Let us treat so!"

  Those blunt words set the demonking back on his heels. That the small man could know so much sent a chill down the tall demon's iron spine. What to do? Screening his thoughts with the aid of the Theorpart, Graz'zt sent out an urgent call for the albino. Telepathically, the demonking relayed the situation and commanded the immediate presence of Vuron. That took but a few seconds. Then he spoke as if he had been pondering the man's words. "What assurance have I that you do not plan to assault me?"

  "Observe the docile brutes who follow us as if they were hounds," Gord replied, knowing he was but playing a game of Graz'zt's making. If the demon wished to gain a little time, then there was no disadvantage to the three in allowing that. It was Vuron who was being summoned. That might actually be what was needed. "Had we desired assassination, mayhem, warfare, we could well have used them and more to bring other than a nonhostile call to discuss certain prospects with you, king. As a gesture of our sincerity, we offer the dozen monsters we have in tow for your pleasure. At my behest, each will go into your menagerie docilely."

  "You give oaths?"

  "Of course, just as you like. Within bounds, for we are your peers." Gord relayed that clearly, standing straight as he spoke.

  "No word from that traitorous imp of Eclavdra could ever— "

  At that instant Vuron stepped from behind the ranks of guristhoi guards arrayed just behind Graz'zt. "Your forgiveness for the intrusion. Majesty," he intoned, pretending he had been somewhere to the rear all along. Perhaps the albino thought that would deceive Gord and his companions; possibly he came forward thus only to appease Graz'zt and allow the demonking to believe that his urgent call for Vuron's assistance had been unnecessary, because the albino was already on the way. It was impossible for Gord to tell the motive, for perhaps Vuron was unaware of just how much the champion of Balance knew about whatever transpired around him. Vuron continued, "After hearing what you have justly said, and these humans replied, I have additional details which might be useful to all concerned."

  "You have my leave to speak. Steward."

  "The small, gray-eyed man with the dark brows is none other than Gord, my King. It was from his hands that I accepted Unbinder as a gift to you. Leda has always been linked to him — by bonds stronger than those known to demonium, I think She came to Mezzafgraduun and served well for a considerable time. For that she might be heard. The third of these dwellers on the mundane sphere, my Liege, Is not well known to me. His aura is plainly that of a determined and strong hero, albeit one who supports the middling way and has fought against the will of the netherrealms often and with success."

  "I see. , .." rumbled Graz'zt. still taking his time.

  "I counsel that you make truce for a brief span of time. The parley of these three can be heard within the safe confines of your chambers, Majesty. Then decide on the course you will decree."

  Graz'zt cocked an eyebrow at the albino, then stared at the three figures opposite him. "Very well. Order outlying troops to return to my palace. We here will go together into the Soul of Mezzafgraduun."

  The trek to the central portion of the stratum was made in virtual silence. Graz'zt went with closed mouth, and Vuron dared not speak. The hulking guristhoi took their cue from the ebon demonking, for despite their looks and propensity, the fierce monsters were aware of their master's mood. One slip always spelled death, and Graz'zt was obviously near rage. If he restrained himself with respect to the three outlanders they escorted, then so much the worse for the demon guards should they irritate the huge monarch.

  The party passed through the jungle-like park of dark foliage and brilliant fauna that surrounded the huge palace. Leda shuddered upon seeing the delicate little animals and birds that huddled into fearful immobility at the scent and sight of the troop. The so-called "sport" that Graz'zt encouraged was so sickening! That thought made her wonder why she felt any shred of responsibility regarding her office in the demonking's court, question her remaining sense of loyalty toward Vuron. After all, as steward, the pale demon was just as culpable for many of the horrors.

  "What troubles you, my sweet?" Gord asked in a whisper.

  "You should be able to read it clearly enough," Leda snapped back, taking out her aversion and disgust upon him. "Aren't you spying on my thoughts now?"

  He looked hurt, but quickly masked the emotion with a stolid expression. "No. That would be an intrusion of . . . No." Without a further word to her, Gord turned to Gellor. "Your sense of this place, old friend — is it all as it seems?"

  "You ask me?" There was actual surprise on the bard's face, for he had progressively come to think of Gord as near-omniscient. "That was stupid of me," Gellor then grumbled with self-irritation. "It is rank with violence and deep evil. Some of the more gorgeous forms of foliage are actually nasty carnivores, things with almost-minds, crazed thinking. The 'splendors' of the gardens are indeed fit for demons."

  "And of falsehoods?"

  "None — save the falsity of demonium itself."

  "Then we face next the gran
d audience. Tell me, lady," Gord said, speaking again directly to the dark elven priestess, "What are we to expect once . . ." The time was soon sped past thus; the palace of the ebon demonking was at hand, and the three entered.

  Because the enemy commanders were absent from the field, and with them their Theorpart, Graz'zt assembled his chief nobles in the grim audience hall. He sat alone on his dais of mirror-bright obsidian, but there were tall chairs of state for Yeenoghu, Kostchichie, Nergel, and the rest. Vuron stood behind the demonking's throne. The long chamber was ringed by demon guards. Graz'zt pointed Unbinder at the three humans who stood, small and impotentappearing before the terrible masters of the Abyss.

  "You have come to surrender that relic you hold. Just as you sheepishly turned this one over to my steward, Vuron?"

  There were sneers and sniggers at those words. Only a weak and stupid fool would have parted with such a prize. Their lord was letting them know that and putting the puny mortal in his place.

  Gord smiled blandly and replied with a mild tone. The gift was appropriate at the time, Graz'zt," he said, carefully stressing the name without honorific. "Perhaps you have noted that Lady Leda now wields Initiator. To make things absolutely clear, she will continue to ply its energies on behalf of Balance until I request otherwise. But rest assured that we have not come here to take back the prize you hold, demon. Not now. . . ." He paused to allow the emphasis to bear its full and heavy meaning to Graz'zt and his henchmen.

  The ebon demonking was grinding his fanged teeth, trembling with anger at such statements. "Then you have come to die!"

  "No. We have come to offer our assurance that your demon-foes, Iuz and the witch-mother too, are in the palm of your mighty hand — should you choose."