by Gary Gygax
The work of finding and aiding the wounded, burying the dead, and clearing the battlefield went on all the next day. Freed from his duties, the elven fighter-mage Melf toured the area to observe at first hand the whole of what had been accomplished by the defeat of the horde of Iuz. There was much loot, but his lieutenants would see that his share was properly allotted, for the elves who had fought under his command had performed heroically. In fact, Melf had personally slain several ogres and a troll as well, after having spent all of his magical power against the enemy.
At the trampled place where paths met, Melf discovered a stone statue of a man. Crushed beneath this toppled lith was a barely recognizable elf. ... It took only a moment to carefully remove the statue. Melf was incredibly strong, and he did the work alone. Then he emptied his canteen upon the stony form to wash away the stains somewhat. Finally he searched the stiff corpse that had been Keak the renegade elven mage, finding no clues as to Obmi's whereabouts, but keeping several items of possible use discovered in the process. That done, he rounded up a few soldiers to stand guard over the statue, telling them to remain on duty until he could return.
"... be damned to hell!" Gord cried, jerking his dagger and sword free. Then he started and stared. No enemy stood before him! It was day, and he had just pulled his blades from nothing but air!
"Relax, Gord," a familiar voice said from behind. "All is well."
He tried to turn with catlike speed, ready for any new enemy, but instead Gord managed only a creaky and doddering step and nearly fell to the ground. His limbs felt like stone and his head ached fearfully. Every time his heart beat there was a pounding in his ears and a throbbing pain in his brain. "What's wrong?" he said aloud to himself.
Melf, at a distance where any initial swing with sword or dagger would not harm him, spoke to Gord again. "Move slowly, and do not attempt anything strenuous for the next few hours. You've just been returned from a stone statue to flesh and blood again, and your systems are in need of some time to restore themselves."
"Then Keak managed to escape . . ." Gord said softly. "Look there, beside that tree. You skewered that crazy bastard fairly before he managed to petrify you. That's of no import at this time, though. Tell me, what became of Keak's master, the dwarf Obmi?"
Gord sat down on the hard-packed earth and told Melf all that had occurred last night. These details filled in a picture that the elf was all too sorry to view.
"The filthy little bugger has certainly gotten away again - and at least a full day's start, too!" fumed Melf. "Perhaps there's still a chance. I'll tell Lord Mordenkainen of this, and he may be able to find Obmi and gain the Second Key yet!"
At that moment Gord was feeling awful - sick and dizzy and too weary to care what became of the artifact. Melf started to leave, then stopped, peering into the sky to the north where a huge black cloud had suddenly gathered.
"Either that's a bad omen, or I am no mage!" - he exclaimed. "I mislike that, Gord. . . . Look at the shape of that cloud. What does it resemble?"
"I don't know," Gord replied, trying to focus his bleary eyes. "Maybe it's a giant toadstool with a pointy lump atop it. Hmmrn . . . the lump rather looks tike an old crone in a tall hat, doesn't it?"
There was no reply. Gord stopped his useless peering at the cloud, looking instead for Melf, but the fighter-mage had gone.
"Without a goodbye, or giving me a chance to properly thank him," Gord mused, "he just vanishes. I am beginning to think that all elves are flighty, if not as mad as Keak was!" He groaned and struggled erect unsteadily. Remembering the spear, he tottered amid the nearby trees, and a moment later reappeared on the pathway. He walked unsteadily with the help of the spear, and his clothing was dirty, but nonetheless, Gord was making his way southward in the direction his comrade awaited.
Behind him, unnoticed, the black cloud grew denser still, settled to the ground, and then wafted away as quickly as it had gathered.
Chapter 30
"Something dampens our powers, Lord of Evil," the mage Vayne explained nervously as Iuz strode into the scrying chamber atop one of the greater towers in his dreadful palace. "If the others were here, I am certain we could get through, but with nothing but petty little weaklings to assist me, I can do nothing," the magic-user whined in his fearful, nasal voice.
"Stop that," the cambion said without looking at the anxious man who scuttled a pace behind him. Iuz was in his massive demoniac form, and his long legs propelled the corpulent mass of his red-skinned body along at a pace that Vayne found difficult and undignified to keep up with. The cambion liked that, for the whining spell-binder had to come flapping after him or else risk his displeasure. Iuz stopped before a massive vessel of beaten copper and brass. The inky stuff within it was dead black. The surface should have reflected an iridescent sheen. Strange!
"You see Lo - "
"Silence!" Iuz bellowed, and Vayne nearly collapsed in fear at the command.
"Why is it so dark in here?" the cambion demanded.
It had suddenly grown particularly gloomy in the chamber, and the shaking magic-user hastened to a nearby window to find the cause. "There is a great mass of clouds overhead, Lord Iuz, as black as I have ever seen! Perhaps some enemies send weather-magic against us. . . ."
His master wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to his words, so Vayne allowed his sentence to trail off. Iuz was still at the great scrying basin, peering into the thing fixedly.
"Little man, I feel that some event of great import is about to occur. It is of favorable sort, I am certain. Be gone when I cease my speech, and I am enough talking!"
This statement was punctuated by the slam of the chamber door. Iuz smiled an eerie, evil smile, and then he concentrated on the liquid. Instead of growing lighter, the absolute blackness of the surface increased, as if the stuff was absorbing what little illumination fell on it. The cambion bent closer, then leaped back with undignified haste.
The oily liquid in the massive pool erupted in a geyser that struck the ceiling almost twenty feet above its surface. As the droplets pattered down throughout the room, a pair of women appeared. Before Iuz's startled gaze stood Iggwilv, his mother, and Zuggtmoy, Demoness Lady of Fungi. Between them, grasped by both, was die Second Key!
"For one who calls himself the Eldritch Lord of Evil, - you look rather startled - 'thunderstruck' is the word! Weren't you expecting us?" Iggwilv said, and as she asked the question she smirked at the figure beside her.
Zuggtmoy the demoness smirked back at the crone who was possibly the oldest and most powerful human ever known, then smiled broadly at the cambion. "Iuz, my love, it has been too long!"
Recovering his lost dignity, Iuz drew himself up to his full height and spoke with firm tones. "Both of you, assume a more pleasing form immediately. But first, you may hand Me that which you have brought."
Iggwilv shook her head. "Not so fast, my prodigal. Is that any way for a devoted son to speak to his Dear Mother?" Even as she uttered this admonition, the ancient crone, one who had appeared a parody of every child's nightmare of a wicked witch, changed. Her features flowed and changed as her body grew and straightened. Scraggly, gray locks became flowing tresses of hair like spun gold, and face and form matched the radiance of this golden head.
"You brought me forth by accident, and you have been more a mother in the breach than the office, Iggwilv. Cease your foolery and deliver my prize to me," die cambion added with what could have been petulance.
Zuggtmoy too had altered from a horrid harridan to a breathtaking beauty. As voluptuous as her companion, Zuggtmoy's assumed form was as dark as Iggwilv's was golden. As this occurred, the demoness swayed across the intervening distance between them and threw her arms around Iuz. "Greet your lover properly!" she demanded in sultry fashion. "And you too, Wilva, come and join us, do!"
"Stop this foolishness," the cambion said, trying to disengage Zuggtmoy's arms with one hand and fend off the giggling Iggwilv with the other. Iuz dared not offend the one a
nd wished for nothing more than the artifact held by the other. This was not in keeping with his dignity nor power. "I demand you stop this now!"
"Demand?" said Zuggtmoy.
"Demand?!" echoed Iggwilv.
The hard edge of both voices made the cambion hastily rephrase his statement. "My dearest love, My own Mother, you have confused and befuddled Me with your coming, with that which you bring Me, and most of all with this fond greeting!" With that he clasped the dark form that was Zuggtmoy and embraced her lasciviously. As she laughed, Iuz scooped the transformed Iggwilv into the expanse of his other arm and kissed her too. "There, My most lovely ladies, I make amends!"
Releasing them, Iuz proceeded to kiss each of their hands in a courtly fashion, greeting each by full title and welcoming them to his abode.
Iggwilv smiled, and there was a suggestion of mockery and sly understanding in the expression. "Iuz, My son, you excelled yourself in your choice of consorts. Lady Zuggtmoy is absolutely without peer!"
"Thank you, dear Iggwilv," the transformed demoness said prettily. "I am in your debt, and you will never regret aiding Me."
"Tsch! Do not mention it - time for settling that will come. You and I have much to accomplish now," she added, giving the Queen of Fungi a meaningful glance. "What - " Iuz began.
"Of course," the woman who had given him birth said, "you are wanting information. Well then, attend Me. It was a near thing, for those soft and stupid ones who oppose the true order of things came in their multitudes. Despite their mewling attempts, I found and freed Dear Lady Zuggtmoy. Together we went to her lovely estate in the Abyss, where she renewed herself. What wonderful chats we shared', and what plans we schemed, Lady Zuggtmoy and I! Then, as time was of the utmost, we returned to this mundane plane to set matters on the correct course here. . . ."
"The Second Key - from where did you get it?" Iuz interrupted.
"This?" Iggwilv feigned a negligent disdain for the oddly twisted shape of dull metal and lusterless crystals of dusky hue she still held. "It radiated a dim aura which was discernible to us when we melded our powers and considered it," Iggwilv told the cambion. "So we changed ourselves and went unnoticed to where it was. It was a simple matter to take it and bring it here. Once possessed, its power is such that only a major combination could prevent we two from doing as we wished!"
"Did a dwarf called Obmi bear it?"
"That one was heading directly for a large group of puissant elves - the snot-nosed servants of that upstart Mordenkainen. How that silly trickster howled when we took the prize before his own dogs could snap it up. . . ."
"And the dwarf?"
Iggwilv smiled and gestured to Zuggtmoy. The demoness reached into the low bodice of her gown and withdrew a large, exceptionally ugly toad. "This is the very same dwarf you spoke of - Obmi? No matter, toads are such dear little things that I had to have him! They love to sit on my fungi, you know," the demoness concluded as she tapped the cowering batrachian on its warty head.
"So be it," Iuz said with a shrug. "He failed - or nearly so. If you wish him as a pet, he is yours until you tire of him."
The Queen of Fungi laughed a delightful little laugh and replaced the toad within her bosom. "You are so thoughtful, dear Iuz."
"It is nothing," the cambion said with forced generosity.
Iggwilv interrupted them. "Come, come, my dears, let us get to matters of import. My little Iuz has a kingdom to expand. There are plans to make. But first there must be a triumphal procession and festival here in Dorakaa! The populace must know of our coming, of the new power of the land, and of its new status as arbiter of all!"
Iuz groaned inwardly, cursing Iggwilv carefully in a corner of his mind that was well shielded from any possible prying by magic. Now, the cambion thought, I understand why Graz'zt imprisoned her in a dismal plane within the Abyss! Iggwilv, it was certain, would not settle for a role of silent helper in matters of state - or any other matters. In tandem with Zuggtmoy - and the two seemed to have become virtual sisters - they would never allow him his prerogatives, nor a moment's peace.
"Pay attention, Iuz!" Iggwilv said with a scolding tone that didn't fit her charming beauty at all. "You were always a daydreaming little do-nothing as a youngling, but that won't be the case anymore!"
"Yes, Iuz, do attend our words," added Zuggtmoy. "If we are to rule a fitting state here on this silly little world, you must be able to do your part, so pay attention!"
Iggwilv took the opportunity to berate him for his poor choices in selecting members for the three groups of six who served him. "It is just as well that Ormuz and the one called Patch chose to die in battle! Had they dared return, their deaths would have been longer and less handsome! Know you that the one dealt with lackeys of Nerull, whilst the other sought to make a pact with your father?"
Iuz shook his head, for he could not speak.
"And those miserable little nothings who sought to terrorize the northern stretch of the Vesve. All they managed to do was stir up an organized force, which slew them and their horde. Now all the forest is lost to us, for between the woods-folk, Mordenkainen, and the dirty elves there, it will be unsafe to venture amidst that forest for some time!"
Both Rudduj and Bee were dead, too? The impact struck Iuz like a cold slap. He gritted his needle-sharp teeth and asked pleasantly, "What would you do?"
"Teach that minion of yours, Halga, her proper place first!" Zuggtmoy said with a grating voice.
"Then we will assist you in the selection of replacements," Iggwilv added.
Chapter 31
It took several days for Gord to manage the walk back to where his friends waited. The wounds from spell and hammer were worse than he had thought. Changing into his feline form seemed to help. It also avoided the carnivores drawn to the scene of the battle by the smell of blood and death. By the time Gord came to the camp where Gellor, Chert, and the boys waited, he was nearly at full strength again, and feeling fit. His comrades cheered him when Gord walked in, but the expression his worn face bore quickly dampened their joy.
"The news is bad, then?" Gellor asked.
"I fear the worst," said Gord morosely. "Obmi escaped despite all I could do. The vile dwarf is perhaps in the hands of the archmage Mordenkainen, for that one brought a horde of the enemy to battle and routed the humanoids - so Melf said. That one was there, too. I saw him and owe him much. . . ."
They talked long then, Gord telling of his pursuit of Obmi, his feigned service to the demon Graz'zt, and the desperate attempt to prevent the dwarf from fleeing to Iuz with the Second Key. They marveled at his slaying Keak at the very moment the crazed mage had turned the young man into a stone statue by his magic, and agreed that Melf had done a great service in restoring Gord to natural life.
"You might have done worse," Chert said, slapping his friend on the back and hugging him warmly. "To have rid the world of the likes of Keak is a service to all!"
After a bit more discussion, they shared a meager supper and retired. There was much to do now. It was time to get from the forest as swiftly as possible, and get word to those who waited as to what events had taken place. Perhaps it was already known, but the probability of the passage into the hands of the cambion of that instrument of Evil was of utmost urgency to relate. They slept uneasily and rose before dawn.
It was a relatively swift and easy journey. There were none of the evil creatures lurking in the Vesve, although they encountered a cautious group of armed woodsmen and later a small band of wild elves roaming through the trees seeking any enemies who might still be hiding there. Both companies were suspicious of the five at first, but then gave them much honor and respect for their part in what had occurred. Gord made a point of telling both the chief of the wood-dwellers and the elven leader that the dwarf Obmi had borne an object of evil power toward the realm of Iuz. That news, he knew, would soon spread throughout the forest. Thus they made their way toward the south, and soon they were near to Tusham again.
That evening
the two lads averred that they had no desire to ever dwell in that village again. Both were anxious to remain with their three newfound friends.
"We will be most useful - won't we, Shad?" Thatch had assured the doubtful Gellor. "In return for taking us along and teaching us about weapons and the rest, we'll cook and clean up, and care for your gear most thoroughly."
"That we will," chimed in little Shadow. "And we'll never get in the way, either."
"How will you keep up once we're out of the forest?" asked Chert. That put a damper on both boys' plans, but only for a moment.
"I think we can manage," said Shad earnestly to his bigger comrade, "if they'll allow us to put our gear on their horses."
"Right!" Thatch said, understanding his friend's direction. "We can trot all day as long as we don't have to tote all that stuff, too!"
Chert laughed, for he had no intention of making these two lads run behind their horses. The barbarian had already decided that both boys would make sound warriors and hunters with proper training and guidance, and he would see they got it. When they arrived at Tusham tomorrow, Chert had plans to find a pair of small horses for them to ride, and he'd see them properly accoutered in the process - they would earn their gear and keep through service.
The bard had no such intentions, for his duty was to return to his homeland and report there to his liege lord. Unwilling to deflate their hopes, and unaware of Chert's resolve, Gellor merely grunted noncommittally and let the whole thing pass.
"Master Gord, what do you say?" Shad begged.
Having no desire to teach these boys the dark ways of thieving and swindling in the crowded city, Gord shrugged the pleading query off. "Who can say what will come to pass, lads? I am no lover of battles, nor am I much skilled at the hunt... Let us see what we shall see."
