by Gary Gygax
"Molag?"
"A diversion, Lady — though indeed I would have My city back…"
"And who goes into the lands of the Hierarchs?" the dark elf high priestess of evil inquired slowly.
Iuz seemed slightly confused and surprised by the question. "No fear as to that. Fully half of My chosen ones will bring woe to those faceless wearers of cuckoldry — four of the best to confront the Hierarchs directly, and a pair to raise allies amongst the Free Lords of the East."
"So," murmured the drow noblewoman, "that explains the great disturbance to the south — at the very gate into the realm of the Hierarchs, I am told — "
"What?" the cambion demanded. "What's that you say?!"
Eclavdra went on blithely. "And The Reaper himself was thought to have had something to do with the flux and disruption of forces arcane…" She trailed off, pondering, hardly glancing at the stony-faced demi-demon sitting enthroned before her.
Suddenly Eclavdra's beautiful face worked with fury. "You foo…" She bit the word off when she saw the burning and sickly fire within Iuz's eyes, contained her anger, and smoothed her countenance and her words. "… fortunately… ah… seek to take advantage of the Hierarchs' weakness now, of course. So instead of going westward into the depths of Vesve's timber, I will send all of my minions — your servants, Lord Iuz — eastward with the army attacking Mo-lag." Snarling, Iuz spat, "I command otherwise!"
"Yes, Lord of Evil, but I am only a mere ambassador. I must do as my Master Graz'zt commands, even before I obey you. It is your father's wish that the drow force be sent to the area of greatest… threat, shall we say?"
Iuz shot from his throne, his visage a mask of terrible rage. The drow noblewoman took an involuntary step backward, closer to her attendants. This made the cambion pause and glare at them. Corpselike cleric and demonesses alike fingered the basalt symbols of Graz'zt that they wore around their necks, but all stood resolute.
The ire slowly drained from Iuz, and he spoke again. "As you point out, My father Graz'zt wishes otherwise, and he, like Me, is a sovereign in his own realm. Because he is all these things, and more, I choose to grant your request to send your force against our enemies squatting in Molag. Now begone! I have had enough of drow and their servants for today!"
The chamber was absolutely silent as Eclavdra and her train departed. As the bronze doors boomed shut behind them, Iuz surveyed his minions without expression. Each betrayed an emotion — outrage, shock, anger, unbelief. "Ahh," the cambion thought to himself with pleasure. "All save Halga suspect nothing…"
Iuz waved a huge, taloned hand toward his servants and addressed them. "Come close and gain wisdom." As they advanced toward him, he continued.
"Am I not Iuz, Lord of Ancient and Eldritch Evil? Would you serve a lesser being? Why, then, do you doubt Me now? But we must take precautions, for this palace is as rife with traitors and spies as the Vesve. None do I trust, save you — and you but little! Now, cast your wards and meshes to prevent all from learning what you are about to have revealed."
There was a flurry of activity as the greater and lesser members of Iuz's chosen did as commanded. "All is secure, Lord," said Halga after a time.
Iuz nodded and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "I am much pleased with My faithful servants — you especially, and one who is coming to join you. All my enemies have proved themselves to be fools and dupes. Mark you, all! The lickspittle slaves of the self-righteous do-gooders brawl with the lock-stepping prancers after devils' dung. Their champions chase after decoys. Hierarchs invoke their vaunted master, and that one plays the Prince of Fools!"
At this revelation, Halga dared to ask, "Lord of Pain, will you enlighten us further?"
Iuz was feeling magnanimous. "Yes, My little ones, I shall! Ormuz, you are a good left hand to Me, and Patch the thumb of it. You must reach most carefully into the Vesve and withdraw a dwarf and what he bears."
"You mean…" said the cleric, Patch, in awe.
"Yes," leered Iuz horribly, "and wise you were not to speak of… it. The dwarf is called Obmi, an old and well-used servant of Mine. Cherish him, but if a choice must be made, bring what he bears and leave him to his own recourse. Ormuz and Patch, in this you cannot fail!"
The pair bowed in acknowledgement of their charge.
"Splendid! Now, Halga, you are My right hand and Vayne its thumb, as it were. I must coordinate a great effort now. You are the ones who will assist Me in this first step toward rulership of Oerth… and more, too, when the time is ripe. None must be certain of My plans and motives. Will I send My forces to Vesve and the elven realm of Highfolk? We know that will be, but it is a sideshow. Molag and the Hierarchs? Of course, but as dear as is My desire to bring those sheep to skewering, it too is a distraction. The Bandit Kingdoms? Again, certainly! They are but petty allies, good for any time I choose, but let the Shield Lords and Furyondy think otherwise.
"Eclavdra and her drow? She will aid in the subterfuge; all the better unknowing! Better still, she will help to hoodwink the one who proudly names Me Son. Drow companies will bedevil the marches to the far west, and Veluna will turn that way in fear and consternation, torn between the hordes of the Scarlet Brotherhood in the Kron Hills and the threat of what might transpire in Bissel. Long is My memory, all-pervading My tentacles of action.
"And there is yet more! My dearest mother has duped those red-wrapped bundles of filth. Their war is only a distraction for her. I am well informed that she has come upon the prison of Queen Zuggtmoy, and in a short time My Lady of Fungi will join Us here in Dorakaa. With Iggwilv, she shall share My coming triumph!"
Iuz paused to allow admiring looks and murmured praise to wash over his obscene bulk. "Our Lord of Evil is all victorious!" offered one underling. "We acknowledge the everburning Evil which now lights the Empire of Iuz!" said another.
It went on like this for some minutes. Then the cambion made a small gesture, and there was silence again.
"And now, My vassals, the best of all," Iuz said softly with a leering smile. "The Hierarchs so misread what I was doing that their number brought the turd-head of death, their miserable master, to foil Me. The Reaper reaped naught but something unsatisfactory, for he and the Hierarchs who bussed his bony bum at every step are gone — vanished from the skin of Oerth. With them went an army of the Hierarchs' finest soldiers and bestial servants, a host of great strength.
"Where? Well might you wonder. They are all slain, these lesser ones. They fertilize the good weeds and feed the distended bellies of the scavengers for a hundred miles.
"There is no power of good, not one, nor any being of any menace to us there," Iuz said reassuringly as he saw the concerned expressions on the faces of his loyal henchmen. "Of that I am most certain, so let your minds be at rest." He said this without allowing any hint of his lack of other knowledge to color his reassurance. Iuz was annoyed at being unable to determine exactly what had happened, but the opportunity was there nonetheless, and he had seized it with an iron grip.
"The Horned Society is sorely wounded, and We shall deliver the coup de grace to them as a by-stroke of Our grander scheme. No interference from Hades will be forthcoming."
The four departed thereafter, and Iuz sat in his chair envisioning his empire to come.
Chapter 18
"Droll."
"Droll?"
"As amusing as a kitten," affirmed the Master Cat.
At that, Cord's companions burst into laughter, for his expression was pained at the indignity of the analogy. At the sound of his friends' hilarity, the young adventurer assumed a haughty expression and turned away, ostensibly to admire the pair of massive spotted lions that purred beside the padded armchair in which the Catlord sat.
Gellor came to Gord's rescue. "Then it was not you who brought us here?"
"Hardly, bard. It is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. Make the best of it — as I am doing. You'll manage," their host drawled. This brought more, if somewhat uneasy, laughter from the others. "C
ontemplating the course of events, I might hazard an opinion," the velvet-garbed fellow added.
"We would be grateful for your counsel, sir," Gellor said in a way which indicated that master was not being asked to instruct pupil.
"As you wish," said the Master Cat with a knowing smile. "Gord simply botched the spell. He mispronounced the key sounds, as it were, reversing them. His inclusion of me, the incantation of my name, wrought the final stage of the dweomer. Instead of whisking Nerull and his bestial steed off to Hades, young Gord here managed to bring you ail with him here — to my secret domain! Most droll! You related that your comrade… Incosee?… had been made panicksome by the aura of these daemonkin. He was beyond the power of the spell. As to the other… Lizard, I believe you named him… well, the dead are not subject to such magic."
Gord flushed in embarrassment. "I meant to call certain powers to our aid. How could I manage to get it so wrong?"
"Better you here than me there!" their host said fervently. "I have no desire to stand face to face with The Reaper — at least not without great preparation and strong allies! How you managed to bring all here is a conundrum, for this place is hid betwixt and between the Ethereal, Astral, and Prime Material Planes. There is that of the cat in you for certain, Gord. Do not, I pray, become apprentice to a spell-binder, though — else who knows what havoc you will wreak with the recondite arts!"
As the group relaxed in chuckling and banter, the Master Cat looked at them with a not unfriendly gaze. Furred humanoids with feline features and tails appeared. They served the adventurers fermented mare's milk and an assortment of snacks — slivers of fowl, balls of ground raw meat, pickled fish, smoked shellfish. The adventurers ate the food and drank the kumiss with obvious pleasure.
The Catlord arose but insisted that they continue their meal. "There are matters I must attend to, but I request that you remain and enjoy yourselves as my guests. Such stuff as bread, vegetables, and fruits will come later — it is provender of the sort unusual to this place. When you have had your fill, simply sound this silver bell here. My servants will come and see to your needs. Rooms are prepared for each of you, and there will be those things you require to be clean and comfortable as well. Enjoy yourselves until I return," he said and simply vanished as he stepped through a nearby doorway.
Melf pulled a long face at the style of the departure. "That is no great trick."
"True, Master," said the halfling Biff, "for I have seen you do it thanks to that — "
"Enough!" commanded the elven adventurer crossly. "You will bore these good folk with your silly banter." Gord and Chert had embraced heartily, pounding each other on the back and giving vent to cries of joy and welcome, when they found themselves together in their initial place of entry — a park and garden surrounded by a circular building of stone and logs and other stuff that seemed to spring from the earth and blend into the greenery that in turn surrounded and sheltered it.
They had fallen from a gray limbo, a gut-wrenching nothingness that made their teeth ache and their nerves tingle, into an idyllic verdure before the feet of a huge statue of a sabre-toothed tiger hewn from ochre-toned feldspar. As if in answer to Cord's wild thoughts of reassuring surroundings, the homely face of a gangling barbarian popped into view. The tangle of curly brown hair and the winsome grin could belong to only one individual in all the multiverse. "Chert!" exclaimed Gord. "What on Oerth?!"
Then the salutations and introductions had begun — only to be rudely interrupted by the appearance of a half-score of snarly-visaged jaguars (as these felines were called, they later learned) that surrounded them and kept them on edge until the sudden appearance of their master, the Catlord. Gord, previously acquainted with this august personage, was immediately recognized by this worthy, and the master called off the huge cats.
Gord, with the help of the others, explained the circumstances surrounding their sudden intrusion into the sanctum sanctorum of their startled host. At this same time, Melf, a wizard and fighter of no small skill, and his lieutenant, Biff, a clever little halfling skilled in swordsmanship as well as thievery, made the acquaintance of Gellor, Curley Greenleaf, and the redoubtable Gord of Greyhawk, a person oft mentioned by Chert during his sojourn with Melf and Biff.
Chert, already an old acquaintance of both bard and druid, needed no introduction. In fact, both Gellor and the half-elven druid-ranger had been regaled with many accounts of the adventures of Gord and his hulking companion, so both were well aware of the comradery that existed between the two young adventurers.
"Lizard is not here," Melf said in consternation.
"I saw him fall, gashed terribly by the monster who served The Reaper," the halfling had volunteered in reply.
"What of Incosee?" Gord had said, looking inquiringly from the one-eyed bard to the rotund druid.
"Fled in spell-induced panic," recalled the bald half-elf, shaking his head sadly, "when last I saw him."
"Six of us then," said Chert slowly. "Three of us, and three of you, Gord," he explained, meaning that his friend's group equalled theirs. "This amounts to a most unwholesome number. Still, I think it bodes well, not ill, for us all!"
Then had the Master Cat brought them into his abode and seen to their needs. Now they were well fed, tired, and had naught but comfort and a good night's rest before them. Without further ado, the half-dozen newly met adventurers went to their own chambers to sleep the sleep of the justly fatigued.
Sometime later — hours? days? The time was uncertain here — Gord awakened, completely refreshed and feeling ready for anything. A feline person of indeterminate gender was standing beside the soft couch upon which he had slept for… how long? Who could tell in such a timeless place as this?
"Greetings, man called Gord," the cat-creature said, showing a mouthful of sharp fangs as it smiled. "There is a pool which hairless ones such as you and your friends will enjoy bathing in. Thereafter, a repast awaits you in the Court of Dappled Sunlight and Pleasant Stretching. Please follow me, and I will show you the way."
Gord complied happily, not even bothering to slip on the loose linen garment tossed across the foot of his downy bed. There was obviously no need, for the temperature was mild, and he was content to go as nature made him.
Arriving at the deep pool, he found everyone but Curley and the mage, Melf, there before him. Chert was frolicking at a game of tag with the tiny halfling, while Gellor and a striking woman with tawny hair lay basking, totally nude in the warm sunlight. Gord was suddenly self-conscious and leaped into the waters to hide his nakedness. Both the bard and the woman laughed at his discomfort, and eventually he came out of the pool.
"No need for such concern," the lovely female said to him in a wonderfully throaty voice. "Save for you and your friends here, we are all cats of one sort or another. None of us cares a whisker for the conventions you humans choose to affect."
"This is most amazing to me, my lady," the young thief replied, truly surprised. "Surely you are no feline at all, for unless my eyes deceive me, you are one of the most lovely women I have ever had the pleasure of seeing!"
The amber-haired woman laughed at this. "Thank you, man, for your sincere praise. Be aware, however, that I am called Tirrip, and I am what your sort call a tiger-were."
Rather than drawing back in fear and revulsion, Gord laughed in return. "This amply shows, fair… feline, how ignorant I am. I crave your pardon."
"Well spoken. You have both my pardon and, I hope, my friendship, if you can accept such from a creature such as I."
Thereafter the two fell into an animated conversation, from which Gellor quietly excused himself. The arrival of Green-leaf and Melf, chatting contentedly as if they were long-lost kinsmen, signaled an end to the relaxed sunning. After a brief wetting, both called for a conclave over a repast, so the whole party trooped off to the appointed area for their meal, the Court of Dappled Sunlight and Pleasant Stretching.
They were attended by the humanoid catfolk but were otherwise alon
e. Tirrip had left to join others of her kind somewhere else — whether in the great, circular mansion or the countryside beyond, Gord was uncertain. After they had broken their fast, Greenleaf spoke to the others.
"Melf and I have been in conversation regarding the whole matter of our mission — and his own quest as well." The druid looked at Melf, and the fighter-mage nodded his head for the half-elven druid to continue. "To be brief, he and I both have urgent need to be elsewhere. At the risk of offending our host, I wish to take advantage of Melfs kind offer to transport me with him when he departs."
Melf cleared his throat, and when everyone looked his way, the gray elf smiled and said, "I will refrain from departing, of course, if you feel that it will jeopardize those who remain here. There is the matter of the item we all seek, however… Gord, what is your opinion?"
Gord shrugged. "My acquaintance with our host is just that, and I cannot hazard a guess. Still, our purpose seems unchanged, and duty demands that we continue with our mission as quickly as possible. I, for one, have no objection to the three of you leaving. I will take my chances."
"I’m not afraid of the consequences," Chert boomed. "Go on!"
"It will be just you two, and Lord Gellor, who stay behind," the warrior-wizard said. "Biff is going with us, for he must oversee my affairs in my absence and attend to his own further training as well."
Greenleaf nodded, adding, "As Melf must report to his liege, Mordenkainen, I too must inform superiors of events. It goes against my grain to leave you, but I must do so now. Let us say our farewells now. Gellor, Chert, Gord — friends and comrades all — be blessed! I'll leave word in Chendl, at the Royal Palace itself, as to my whereabouts. Until we meet again," the druid finished, embracing each of his friends warmly.
"You grow old and soft," Gellor said with a chuckle as he noted the tears in the druid's eyes. "This is not a permanent thing, merely an answer to a call of duty. All soldiers must do thus."
