The Rod of Seven Parts

by Douglas Niles

  Then it was as if the wall disappeared entirely. Bright columns of white stone formed the borders of a supernatural tunnel leading into the distance, while a sky of flat white glowed overhead. Blinking in astonishment, I rose from the bench and took a step forward, conscious of the great hound advancing before me.

  "Kip..." Saysi's voice was tremulous.

  My apprehension grew, though I didn't—yet—feel a sense of terror. Perhaps I was hypnotized with wonder or awe; I found it impossible to do anything except stare, my heart pounding hard in my chest.

  The alabaster spires, jutting upward like crags of white quartz, were not in fact stone columns, but the smooth and straight trunks of very unnatural trees. They merged into an overhead canopy, the whitish glow above them actually a blanket of dense foliage, with radiant leaves, as if brightened by an internal flame. The bizarre growth merged together to form something like a pale overcast brightened by a high, midsummer sun.

  But whatever the sun that was lighting this scene, it was not the same fiery orb of my own world.

  "Kip—look! What's that?" Saysi's voice, tight with panic, came from beside my shoulder. I saw her finger pointing straight ahead.

  Only then did I see the things racing along the ground, lurching between the trunks, galloping toward the opening that had now stabilized in the warehouse wall. Shaking my head in astonishment, I tried to focus on an image that my mind refused to comprehend.

  Something moved there, creatures—monstrous, grotesque beings—that were alive. I blinked and shook my head again, wondering if some viciously prankful wizard had created a bizarre and frightening confluence of evil.

  Three creatures charged with shocking speed. I wanted to say that they were running, but their movement was too unnatural, too grotesque to be described by any such mundane term. It was more as if they scuttled like gigantic spiders, but they traveled with the speed of a charging war-horse. The monsters had eight legs and propelled themselves forward in a series of bursts, striding with four legs at a time. The huge, bulbous bodies looked like grotesquely oversized tarantulas.

  But the most horrifying features were the heads, which were cast in the exact images of ravenous, drooling wolves. Jaws gaping, they howled a beastly refrain mingled with wet, snarling growls. Bristling fur jutted from brown shoulders, and the lupine mouths brayed on, uttering unworldly howls and yelps that further heightened my fear. On each head, I saw long yellow fangs, slick with drool, and red, hungry eyes.

  The stray hound bayed loudly, bounding toward the edge of the street and barking furiously into the otherworldly opening. The trio of beasts raced in that scuttling gallop between the pillars, rapidly approaching the circular aperture in the warehouse wall, the hole that I knew linked this place with... with wherever that was.

  "Let's go!"

  Saysi touched my arm and I whirled, fully propelled by fear now, ready to follow her across the tree-studded grounds of the market plaza.

  "Dog—this way! Come!" I shouted over my shoulder, feeling oddly responsible for the hound that had so bravely advanced to face these menacing intruders.

  With a final bark, the animal spun about and raced after me, following just behind us as if she wanted to herd us to safety, to protect these two halflings from an unspeakable menace. I cast a single look backward, saw the three spider-wolves spill from the glowing opening and speed across the street and onto the grassy plaza. As soon as the monsters emerged, the glowing circle began to fade. Once again the brown planks of the warehouse wall materialized, apparently as solid as they had been a few moments before.

  "This way—into that alley!" I shouted between my gasps for breath, touching Saysi on the shoulder. She sensed my intent without looking, veering around a sturdy oak trunk and sprinting for a shadowy gap between two dark buildings.

  I skidded around the same tree, drawing Goldfinder as I followed her toward the alley. Even without looking, I knew that the monsters were gaining on us, and the memory of those slavering jaws, the hideous and swollen bodies, gave me very little hope of a successful fight. Still, for once I was determined that I would give my own life to see that a companion had the chance to escape.

  The chorus of snarls and growls roared in combative fury, frighteningly near, and I knew that the stray hound had thrown herself against the monstrous attackers. I didn't turn to look, but I heard the savage barking of the dog mingle with the yelping howls of the unnatural creatures.

  "Run!" I gasped to Saysi quite unnecessarily. Only then did I halt and spin to face the galloping pursuers, my keen steel gleaming coldly in the early dawn light.

  I couldn't believe how close the damned things had gotten. A few paces away, the hound whirled through a tight circle and charged at the flank of the leading spider-wolf, leaping with a roaring, furious bark. The monster tumbled, rolling along on the ground, and I heard the clacking of its drool-spattering jaws as it grappled with the brave dog.

  The next beast sprang toward me with unbelievable quickness. My eyes registered an expanding mouth of bristling teeth and drooling tongue. Fetid breath reeked all around as I slashed blindly with Goldfinder, thinking that the steel blade seemed a pathetic counter to those fangs, that powerful body.

  The creature darted away from my blow, pouncing onto all eight of its feet before scuttling around to face me. I darted behind the nearby tree trunk, feeling staccato footsteps through the soles of my feet as the monster raced after me. Before it completed the circle around the gnarled bole, I spun back and slashed, bashing Goldfinder into the wolfish head that suddenly snarled right in my face. Recoiling from an image of glaring eyes and snapping, drooling jaws, I nevertheless sliced once more, this time into the side of the lupine head. The creature whirled, screeching like a banshee, driving me back with an exhalation of foul breath.

  Chopping again, I cut deeply into one of the beast's legs before stumbling backward. Slowed, the creature limped toward me, giving me enough time to scramble to my feet. It leapt with a triumphant howl, but not until I was ready. This time my blow was precise and well aimed, cutting deeply into the bristling neck and killing the beast instantly.

  I saw Saysi disappear into the alley with the third spider-wolf racing in pursuit, and fear drove me into desperate haste. From somewhere nearby the snarls of the second monster mingled with those of the courageous hound. I could only hope that the dog could hold her own.

  Again I sprinted, fear rising like bile in my throat. If only I could get there in time... but these monsters were unbelievably fast, viciously cruel, and deadly—and Saysi didn't even have a weapon! I remembered the gambler who'd been ripped to pieces earlier tonight, wondering if these same hideous attackers might have been behind that violence as well, a suspicion I didn't have any trouble believing as I raced across the cobblestone street.

  Charging around the corner, I saw a sight that brought fear and despair forth from my throat in a tangled, wailing snarl. The third spider-wolf crouched facing me, jaws slick with fresh blood—Saysi's blood—and eyes boring hatred. I skidded to a halt, waving my sword in an effort to hold it at bay, frantically searching the shadows beyond. Again I groaned aloud, a wrenching cry of anguish. The alley was a dead end, and there was no sign of Saysi anywhere within.

  Turning my murderous gaze onto the crouching monster, I was only dimly cognizant of a torn wisp of green silk dangling from the hideous jaws. Through the dim haze of my grief, I recognized the emerald sheen of Saysi's vest. A bright crimson stain outlined the edge of the torn segment, and it was this garish remnant that drove any semblance of rationality from my mind.

  I flew at the spider-wolf, my body possessed by a determination beyond logic. Perhaps it was the suddenness of my reaction, or the fact that the monster had been sated by its recent feeding, that gave me a fraction of a second's surprise. The creature reared back in the face of my assault, but not quickly enough to avoid the bloody tip of my short sword. The weapon carved into the bristling, hairy throat, and the lupine head flopped loosely as bl
ood and air gurgled outward.

  Kicking reflexively, all eight legs splaying wildly, the creature flopped to the ground and lay still in a spreading pool of dark, inklike blood. I saw that the neck was sliced more than halfway through, knew that the monster was dead—yet these were secondary concerns.

  Whirling, I stumbled around the small alley, kicking over several empty boxes, staring numbly at the three barren walls. I barely noticed the trembling in my arm, or was aware of my gory weapon shivering unsteadily in the air. I could see no sign of Saysi except for a few spots of fresh blood.

  Finally I collapsed, sobbing wretchedly, horrified at the thought of my beloved priestess devoured in such a terrifying onslaught.

  A cautious whine drew my attention. I raised my head to see the slack-skinned hound limp into the alley. The dog came over and placed her head on my lap, snuffling tiredly. Then she stepped away, shambling back to the street before turning and looking back to me.

  I sensed a plea, both urgent and sad, in those mournful eyes. The animal knew that I shouldn't stay here, which was more than I could say for myself.

  "Why?" I challenged, my voice a choking rasp. My tone grew firm, solidified by increasing anger. "Where should I go? What do I have to live for?"

  The dog, of course, made no answer. Instead, she fixed me with that distressingly understanding stare. She sat on her haunches as if to say that she, too, could be stubborn and irrationally patient.

  Gradually I came to understand that I couldn't do anything more here, that in fact I might be in danger of a repeat attack by those horrific arachnoids. Rising to my feet, I kicked listlessly at the dead monster, a gesture that did nothing to make me feel better. The hound trotted into the street, then turned to look back at me.

  "All right. I'll come with you," I whispered, as if a loud noise would be an affront to my slain companion.

  Tears blurred my vision as, with a ragged sigh, I shambled out of the alley and followed the dog into the dawning day.

  CHAPTER 5

  AAQA

  Thirty-two mountain peaks ringed a green and verdant valley. Each of the summits was a narrow spire of gleaming rock, some of them black, others red and gray and white, and a few of the lofty crags even gleamed with a smoothly mirrored surface of burnished silver. The perimeter of mountains formed a perfect circle, and the valley sheltered within that ring mirrored the immaculate and beautiful regularity of the heights.

  In places around the pastoral vale, ponds and lakes sparkled, reflecting the azure purity of the sky. Eight mighty waterfalls, evenly spaced around the circumference of the valley, spumed from between the summits, feeding rivers of deep aquamarine, gathering in a crystalline lake located in the exact center of the valley. That great body of blue water was itself a perfect octagon, enclosed by a precise shoreline of eight straight sections.

  Winds stroked the needle-like peaks, touching the spires like precise fingers plucking at the strings of a harp. The keening of the air currents drew forth chords of exquisite, almost heart-stopping beauty. The songs changed constantly, rising through joyous chimes or sinking into minor bass, depending on the directions of the winds and the force of their gusts.

  Across the valley floor, the pavilions of the vaati wind dukes stood amid lush groves of pine and cedar, or within rings of mighty oak and mahogany. Animals of many varieties grazed among the flowered meadows or lapped at the clear water bubbling from the frequent springs. There were carnivores here as well, mighty lions and bears among them, but these voracious creatures subsisted exclusively on the bodies of prey that perished naturally. In the Valley of Aaqa, nature enforced the rule of aging, which was the immutable law of all living things everywhere.

  A trio of vaati stood upon the raised watchtower at the greatest pavilion, a marble structure located on a rounded hill near the central lake. The dukes were tall and handsome warriors, almost utterly naked, with skins in shades of black that varied slightly between the three individuals. Colorful sashes of brilliant colors—blue, green, and red—further differentiated each. Though their valley was a place of peace, each wore his weapon ready at his side—scimitar, rapier, and silver-springed crossbow. The three wind dukes stood in silent communion, looking toward the ring of summits on the far side of the lake.

  "Do the other vaati suspect that Arquestan is coming here?" asked the one called Farrial, bearer of the scimitar. A ribbon of gold-trimmed blue was draped over his broad shoulders, extending to one side of his waist. A flat nose was centered in his handsomely chiseled head, flaring back between high cheekbones and piercing eyes of anthracite black. The tallest of the dukes, Farrial spoke in a deep voice that commanded the attention of his fellow lords.

  "None has spoken of it," said another, Xathwik. Xath was shorter than Farrial, his torso more filled out, though still far from fat. He had a complexion of almost bluish-black, and his skull was clean-shaven, while his taller cohort had a crop of tightly curled black hair. Xathwik's symbolic color was green, and a viridescent shimmer of silken ribbon outlined his brawny physique. Emerald rings glistened from the four fingers of his hand as he raised his palm to shade his eyes from the bright sunlight.

  As a vindeam, one of the most powerful wizards among the wind dukes, Xathwik was well versed with the plans and intentions of his fellows. "I have spent time in study of all the orders; nowhere have I seen the threat of discovery."

  "What fools they can be!" snapped Balka, the other wizard, of the order rudeam. Balka's body was compact and powerful, full of barely contained energy, and now he paced back and forth like a caged cat. "Don't they know that Arquestan offers us our best hope of thwarting the queen?"

  "Perhaps they do," Farrial, the grideam tree tender, agreed calmly in his deep and measured tones. "But they know, too, that he is an outcast, and as such, his presence in the valley is a thing to be feared."

  "Let them fear the Queen of Chaos!" Balka retorted, clenching his red-colored sash in agitation.

  "There. He comes," declared Farrial, pointing with a long finger of chocolate brown.

  "Of course. It is the appointed time, and even an outcast would never be late," murmured Xathwik.

  The song of the wind rose to a triumphant chorus as Arquestan's chariot spun low between two peaks of silver. Gusts whispered through the columns around the pavilion as the glowing spiral of air swept just above the ground, circling that grand structure once, airy chargers rearing eagerly on the swirling gusts. The wendeam swept between the lofty pines before guiding his whirlwind to the marble flagstones of the pavilion's courtyard.

  Arquestan stood tall in the back of his chariot. His hands were free—he had no need of reins—and he waved casually to the three wind dukes as the spiraling cloud settled. Winds gusted and swirled through the pavilion, until Balka raised a hand and muttered a low-voiced command; immediately the air became still.

  "You never did care for my winds, did you?" Arquestan asked, stepping forward with a hearty chuckle.

  "Winds can become chaotic, if left to blow unchecked," retorted the rudeam stiffly. "Nevertheless, you are welcome here, my old friend."

  The dark, lanky wendeam, as naked as the waiting lords, strode across the plaza on his long legs. A belt of royal blue gathered around the waist of his lean and sexless form. His proud face was etched in a black beard and mustache and surrounded by a mane of shaggy curls that grew long from his scalp, dangling past his shoulders to either side.

  Golden eyes, as sharp as a hawk's, met the curious looks of Xathwik, Farrial, and Balka. "I come in good humor, my friends, but this is not to mock your courage. I know the danger to you all for accepting an outcast into the valley—and into your pavilion."

  "Courage is a thing in plentiful supply," said Xathwik. "What we need is knowledge—gained from all corners of the planes."

  "And even from those that have no corners," added Balka with a shudder. Like all the wind dukes, he despised shapes and forms that lacked precision and regularity.

  "You have journeyed
to the wildest realm?" asked Farrial, his dark brow furrowed with apprehension.

  "Aye, my friend." Arquestan's eyes clouded with memories of Pandemonium. "Miska remains imprisoned within the fortress, but the violence of his temperament is unabated. He paces ceaselessly, destroying parts of the castle as quickly as new structures can be raised. It is only the Barrier of Law that holds him within."

  "And the rod...?" Xathwik's tone was tremulous.

  "There I have news... rather dramatic news, in fact."

  "There is word... real word?" Farrial echoed the vindeam's excitement.

  "Even better. I have a piece, held it in my own hands for a time. Now it is hidden where only I can reach it."

  For a moment, though the silence was absolute, the emotion of the four vaati formed an almost physical bond between them. It was a heartbeat's time of reverence and worship and of hope for ultimate triumph, which warmed each soul even though it registered as merely a flickering expression across the four dark faces.

  "The segment I have is the sixth. Unfortunately, the queen's minions have the seventh," Arquestan explained, breaking the silence and immediately sobering the elation of his fellow wind dukes.

  "And the other pieces?" Xathwik quickly asked.

  "They have come to rest upon a world—where exactly, I don't know. But we shall learn very soon, for the queen's spyder-fiends are not the most subtle of tanar'ri. When she sends them through the gates, I or one of my hounds will know."

  "Quite," muttered Farrial, his bass tones underlying the melodious chiming of the background. "And you will continue the search?"

  "Of course. After a meal and a rest, I will be off again. I have come, in part, to gather my pack."

  "Your hounds await you," Xathwik said. "They have grown bored of my ministrations. No doubt they will be delighted to chase once more among the planes."