Artifact of Evil g-2

by Gary Gygax

  The wicked-eyed dwarf spoke first. "Just who, pray tell, are you to greet me thus?"

  "A humble servant of our Master, Lord Obmi," Gord said with a self-effacing tone. "I am a negligible person altogether, called Stoat."

  "Tell me before I kill you then, Stoat. What madness made you dare to stand before me?"

  "It is not by my own whim that I come to you thus, Lord Obmi. I am sent by… He who sired Lord Iuz," Gord said with pride, hiding the fact that he hadn't the slightest idea what demon had fathered the foul Iuz and left his spawn to blight the world.

  "You serve Graz'zt?" Keak interjected. "For what reason does that One send you to us?"

  "Silence, fool!" the dwarf said, his face blackened by anger at the elf s interruption. Now he would not be able to test this cocky fellow who stood before him with the question he had planned. Obmi watched silently for a few heartbeats as the two half-orc guards came racing back to point their lances at the fellow's exposed back. The man was brave enough, he'd give him that. The dark-haired fellow never moved a muscle or gave so much as a glance as the riders thundered toward his naked back. Obmi spoke then, as the guards looked at him for direction.

  "Hold, you brainless bags of shit! I am questioning this man now. Had he been an enemy, you'd have left me exposed to his onslaught with your useless charging!"

  The dwarf turned back to Gord. "Very well then, Stoat. Let's assume for the moment that you are who you claim, and that you serve Lord Iuz's loving sire. Why does that One send you to me?"

  Gord smiled ingratiatingly. "Prince Graz'zt conveyed word to me by means of a quasit, Lord Obmi — not personally, so what I relate to you is third-hand. However, the demonling, Schwartz by name, was most explicit in relating the commands of Graz'zt, and I shall be the same in telling you — "

  "Leave off naming of names — especially those of Ones of power!" the dwarf stormed, an ominous tone in his shout. "And get on with it now, or by the Rusted Rump of the Father of Dis, I'll smear your smiling face across yon tree!"

  Gord was glad for the interruption. He had hoped that his stalling wasn't as noticeable as he thought it was, for he was having to invent his tale on the spot. Furthermore, all the speaking aloud of the demon's name was dangerous business, and he feared it would attract unwanted attention from Graz'zt or his real minions. That this naming made Obmi, and Keak too, as nervous as a new-made thief about to pick his first pocket delighted Gord. These wicked demi-humans were more afraid of the demon father of Iuz than he was. Of course, the thought flashed through his mind, the two undoubtedly had cause to be, for they knew far more of such foul beings than Gord ever hoped to. Still smiling rather fixedly, Gord inclined his head briefly in homage to the dwarfs command and went on.

  "Schwar — The quasit who serves the One who shall no longer be named told me that I was to venture southward along the secret road through the Vesve. There I would meet a dwarf of much importance and a powerful elven mage called Keak. The dwarf, called Lord Obmi, would be bearing something of great import to Lord Iuz. My orders were simply to seek you out. Once I had found you, I was to serve you in whatever fashion you deemed appropriate. Once you have been conveyed safely to Lord Iuz, the One said I would be free to go where I wished… unless Lord Iuz had use for my services."

  Keak was peering closely at him, but the admonition by the dwarf had silenced the elf. It was Obmi who responded to Gord's statement.

  "Really. What services do you offer?"

  Gord felt more confident now. "As you saw in ample demonstration, my lord, I am far more suited to guard your person than those two who sit foolishly at my back with their clumsy lances — I could kill both without trouble. I am also a skilled thief and have some small talent at woodcraft, tracking, scouting out ambuscades, disguise, impersonation, gambling, and a few lesser arts and ploys as well."

  Obmi never blinked at the exposition, and Gord wondered if he had gone too far in daring to mention impersonation. The dwarf nodded and commented, "Modesty is not amongst those many parts. No matter — I'll teach you that soon enough in my services. Being so wonderful as you claim, a small test is in order — is it not, master Stoat?"

  Gord felt sudden tension but replied mildly, "As my Lord Obmi wishes."

  Obmi screamed, "Kill this arrogant man! "The two guards lunged with their sharp-pointed lances immediately, their horses going forward as they did so.

  Before the metal tips contacted his leather-clad back, Gord was bunched into a ball, tumbling backward between the trampling hooves of the nervous horses. Then he was on his feet, all in an instant. He dared not slap the animals into a bolting run, for the horses would surely collide with Obmi and Keak just a few paces to front of them. That would result in Cord's death — or at best his losing all hope of insinuating himself into the dwarfs company. Instead the young thief used the trick he had seen Gellor perform not long ago. As he sprang to his feet he placed a hand under the stirrups to either side, straightening his legs and heaving upward with back and arms as he did so. It worked. One guard fell heavily to the left, the other half-orc sprawled to the right, while their horses, suddenly relieved of their burdens, whinnied in fear and reared harmlessly.

  Gord darted quickly around to the right, where he had caught a glimpse of the guard there, face down. That sort of opportunity was not to be missed. The dazed half-breed was trying to gain his hands and knees, preparatory to getting to his feet, when sword and dagger struck in tandem. The villain coughed and fell back upon his face, arms and legs making feeble motions. Gord stabbed again for good measure and then spun to face the other man-ore.

  That one had not been so stunned by the fall, and while Gord was busy with his mate, the half-caste humanoid had managed to pull his arbalest free from his mount's saddle. As Gord turned, the fellow was bringing the weapon to his shoulder, looking to place Gord in his sight along the bolt. A series of leaps and bounds so confused the stupid half-orc that he threw the crossbow down in disgust and drew forth the heavy broadsword he wore scabbarded at his hip. Gord sprang in, pinked him on the cheek with his shortsword, and quickly darted back out of range of the retaliatory slash the guard aimed at him.

  "Come, come, my stupid ape-faced one," Gord taunted the guard. "You'll have to do better than that to get me with that rusty lump of iron you're swinging."

  The half-orc wiped at his bleeding jowl, spat, and waded in, the broadsword swinging in great scything motions before him. Such a technique would work well enough against unskilled opponents, but employed against a swordsman such as Gord, with fencing skill and battle experience, it was almost laughable.

  Gord timed his attack so that he came in on the backswing of the heavy sword. A quick step, point straight, leg extended, arm shooting forth. The point of his blade pierced the half-orc's left arm where the mail gaped as the arm moved back. Gord parried the return scythe of the broad-bladed sword with his long dagger, making the guard's weapon go upward and away as he crouched under it. At that instant he continued his closing, coming up arid driving both dagger and sword into his adversary's body. The dagger sunk through steel mesh into the startled fellow's groin, while the shortsword bit through armor and went upward under the ribcage.

  Gord leaped back, and the half-orc reeled, then managed to prop himself up with his useless sword. "Spare me," he gasped. "I yield."

  Obmi's hammer flew, and the guard's helmeted head disappeared in a spray of crimson. "You failed me," the dwarf said emotionlessly. "That was twice, and once is all I ever allow," he added, looking at Gord as he spoke.

  "Your servant, Lord Obmi," the young adventurer said, bowing to hide the expression of hatred that crossed his countenance.

  "He fights marvelously well," Keak commented with a cackling laugh. In fact, the elven spell-binder was pleasurably contemplating the possible results of a duel to the death between the dwarf and this black-clad fellow who called himself Stoat.

  Obmi scowled at the elf, and Keak fell silent. "I mistrust you, knave, but nonetheless you ha
ve earned your place in my service… until you show me cause to decide otherwise. Pray to your patron demon that this never occurs! Now mount one of those horses and ride ahead. If you fail to notice any threat, you'll die first."

  Without a word, Gord vaulted into the saddle of the nearer of the horses, wheeled the animal, and trotted it off to a position about sixty feet ahead of the others. He was now the official and only advance guard for Obmi and his precious burden. Being careful to watch the trail ahead with utmost caution, he began pondering on how to make certain that the dwarf and his prize never reached the cambion ruler of the lands not too far ahead.

  It was one matter to get close to this malign servant of evil. Now the problem was to separate Obmi from his prized possession, the Second Key of the Artifact of All Evil, and to bring him to justice in the process. Gord knew that the former was lar more important than the latter, but he could not dismiss the desire to bring a fitting end to the dwarfs career of murder and worse.

  Eventually the sun sank, and Obmi called the party to a halt for the night.

  Chapter 28

  The quiet of the night was shattered by the sound of an advancing army. That it moved heedless of any opposition bespoke its size and the power of those who commanded the host. It went through the heart of Vesve Forest, southward. It was a Host of Iuz, a horde of bandits, the vilest of mercenary humans, and every sort of humanoid imaginable. Loathsome trolls shambled with the army, and great ogres tramped in its ranks. The force marched on heedless of any danger, and at its head rode the archmage called Ormuz and a high priest of Iuz known as Patch. They went forth to bring wrack and ruin to all who opposed them, and to bring a dwarf named Obmi to stand before their master.

  Gord heard the welling sound of their approach before any of the others did. He knew what was occurring, but he was powerless to do anything about it. Keak himself was alertly on watch, and the young thief knew that he would never be able to slay the elf without the magic-user alerting the others. Gord would have no chance against Obmi and the elf and the two humans who served them. To attempt anything would be to throw his life away, so Gord did what he thought best.

  "Lord Keak, I hear the sounds of a vast company approaching!" he called softly, sitting erect as he did so. "Shall I alert the others to arm themselves and escape southward?"

  "Stand fast!" Keak ordered, and he cocked his large, pointed ear toward the north, straining visibly to hear the faint sounds. After a time he turned and gazed at the man who had so recently joined the service of the dwarf. "You have keen ears, too, do you? I'd say you are altogether too keen, and too ready to turn southward toward the enemy!" The skinny elf cackled at what he had just said, then went near to where Obmi slept under a thick quilt. "Lord, I hear the sounds of an approaching force," he said softly.

  "What's that? What force? From where does it come? Witless elf, tell me quickly! I hear nothing at all!"

  "It is, I believe, a reception party for your Great Person, Lord, for it approaches boldly down the road from the north — from Our Lord's own lands, from Iuz!"

  "Shit and slobbering slimes!" Obmi cursed under his breath as he sprang from his resting place. "Don't just stand there stupidly, you doddering fool! Help me prepare myself for this group that comes! Everything must be just so, or I'll never forgive you!"

  Such fussiness nearly made Gord snicker. Were this not the conjunction of the most vile and malicious creatures imaginable, the circumstances of the meeting would indeed be ludicrously funny. A journey of hundreds of leagues, with the fate of the entire Oerth — and more — at stake, and the instrument of it all worries about minor appearances in the middle of a howling wilderness! Gord shook his head in wonder at the whimsical fate that allowed all of this to transpire, for he too was but a pawn in a game whose scope he could not comprehend. "What meaning," he wondered, "and what true understanding, would I have were I of the stature of Iuz, Graz'zt, or any of the even greater figures in this struggle?" Unable and unwilling to consider the whole implication of this, Gord did what he could.

  "With your permission, Lord Obmi," he said, "I will ride ahead and bring the approaching Host of Iuz to you, announcing you to those who come to receive you properly."

  The dwarf thought about this proposal for only a moment. "Yes. That is mete. You have my permission to go forth as herald."

  In a minute Gord had his horse saddled, and he swung up onto its back without a glance back at the frantic activity of Obmi and Keak. As he rode, the young thief wondered what he should do. It would be simple enough to just melt into the forest and be safe. This was not what he wished, though. If there was any chance for him to foil the plans of Iuz, Gord would take the risk and pay the ultimate price if need be. Was there such a chance? He had to try. Shoulders squared, back straight, Gord rode on up the path to play the role of herald of "Lord Obmi" for the oncoming horde of despicable creatures commanded by who knew what sort of disgusting servants of the demon bastard Iuz.

  The sounds of the marching army were now clearly audible to the deafest ear. Gord halted his horse and called as loudly as he could, his tone filled with confidence that he did not feel. "Hail the advance! The Herald of Lord Obmi demands immediate audience with the commander of this force!"

  The words were hardly out of his mouth before he was surrounded by a pack of humanoid outrunners. This scum conveyed him rapidly northward past the advance guard of the horde. Somewhere along the route the lowly xvarts and gnolls were replaced by trolls and human servants who cried out, "Make way for the Herald of Lord Obmi!" and the throng of mongrels and hateful humanoids parted as if by magic for Gord to ride through unmolested.

  "Your name, Herald?" an authoritarian voice demanded in bass tone.

  "Stoat, Herald of the dreaded dwarf Lord Obmi, the faithful servant of the Lord of Ancient Evil, Iuz!" Gord replied in his best formal manner.

  "Hail, Herald of the dwarf Obmi. You are come to the Host of Iuz. I am its general, Ormuz, and you may report all to me. Where is Obmi? And does he carry the object which Our Master desires?"

  "I am your servant to command, General Ormuz of the Host of Iuz," Gord intoned formally in reply, trusting that no absolute ritual was prescribed for such a meeting. "The Lord Obmi is but a short way south of here, awaiting the meeting with you. He is carrying… the object, I believe."

  "Believe? You are Obmi's own herald, and you do not know with certainty if the object of all… this is borne with your lord?"

  "My post is new, Lord General Ormuz, and my Lord Obmi is most careful. Details are better left to such ones as you and he."

  "This is well said, Herald Stoat — I think I concur with Obmi's selection of you for the role, even though it be but a recent appointment. After this whole affair is concluded, come to me and we will discuss possibilities of service." So saying, the hooded and cloaked Ormuz dismissed Gord and rode past.

  Ignored, Gord simply turned his horse and rode with the procession of underlings that followed the leader of the host. He was surprised when the procession he was now part of turned to the west, veering away from Obmi's camp a mile or two to the southeast. A dark woman in rusty-red clerical robes riding beside him spoke to Gord.

  "No wonder Lord Ormuz was so pleased with your unexpected arrival," she said. "We are near the Gathering Place, and now Obmi can report to us while Lord Ormuz sits in proper state!"

  Gord simply murmured a noncommittal reply and rode on. Perhaps a few hundred advance guards and scouts preceded, the head of the horde. They not only made certain that no enemy was lurking nearby, but cleared the way and now fired great torches to light the path. Flankers likewise chopped at brush and kept the column in some semblance of order. The whole of the force must stretch for miles northward. The forest pathway was narrow. Three horsemen or possibly four could ride abreast along its narrowest parts.. Gord could not calculate how long the tail of this army must be, but it made his head reel to think of it. Their way had been overgrown with scrub, but the advance had cleared it easily e
nough. The trail was wider here, and it was growing broader all the while. They had entered the neck of a funnel and were now moving toward its mouth, he analogized. The flaring torches illuminated a large area of grassland ahead.

  "Lady cleric," Gord said, leaning close to the dark woman, "I must take my leave now, for Lord Obmi must be informed of where he is expected to meet Lord Ormuz. Is there some password I must use to ride back to the east and south?"

  Having overheard the words of Lord Ormuz regarding this fellow's future with the archmage, the woman was eager to make him her friend. "Sir Herald, I am the Priestess Leilah. You may call upon me anytime," she said, and she shot Gord a seductive smile that conveyed the meaning she had more in mind than information or social pleasantries. "The utterance of Lord Ormuz' name is sufficient to pass through the lines, but perhaps you should have this as well," Leilah said as she took a large pin from her cloak and handed it to Gord.

  He saw it was a bronze device enameled in the colors of Iuz — black, white and red. A circle confined a triangle which, in turn, bore a reversed pentagram. The circle was a black snake biting its own tail. Its field was white, as was the pentagram inside the red field of the triangle. "My thanks, priestess. You may likewise call upon Herald Stoat," Gord said, and he sent her a glance that promised much. Then he turned his steed and began to work his way back against the press of the throng.

  Gord said nothing until he neared the narrow entry to the area Leilah had identified as the "Gathering Place." He supposed it was a rallying point for assembly of forces to raid and make war. They must be nearer to the realm of Iuz than he had thought. The neck was crowded with troops marching into the area. The unit entering happened to be a well-disciplined company of xvarts, little humanoids with big heads and bluish skin. These were evidently the baggage train escorts, for Gord could see carts and pack animals along the trail behind them. Reining his horse to the right as far as possible, he began to ride by the little humanoids, shouting "Make way for the Herald of Lord Obmi!" repeatedly at the top of his voice.