The Rod of Seven Parts
Page 14
The cause, Arquestan felt certain, was her growing desire for the Rod of Seven Parts. The queen's agents sought the artifact desperately, and as long as that quest was thwarted, her fury would grow ever more disruptive and deadly. The outcast thought about the scattered segments of the artifact, and he was deeply afraid.
Against the cosmic disquiet in the distant sky, the sparkling lights drifted nearby, placidly circling, floating in a steady procession through the verdant evergreens. Drooping limbs, far-reaching and thick with needles, masked enough of the woods that the enchanted, luminous sentinels were for the most part hidden from the central clearing. Still, the glowing spheres became clearly visible each time they floated from the shelter of one tree to the next.
"Enough of your pacing, my pack; come join me beside such coals as remain."
Arquestan spoke quietly, sensing the restless forms of his hounds as they emerged from the ring of pines. Soon the baubles of pearly light gathered to him, coming to rest as they would on the ground or upon the nearby rocks.
As each hound settled, brightness faded with the changing of its shape. At Arquestan's feet, the first glowing bubble shifted form and, with a flop onto a lean flank and the thumping of a gray, shaggy tail, rested on the ground. The sleek wolf that was Terril looked to his master with loving eyes, long tongue lolling between jaws that, despite their array of sharp fangs, remained fixed into an eager smile.
"Ah, Terril, how is my brave one... the elder of my pack?" The wind duke's face split into a smile, white teeth showing bright against black skin and the framing curls of hair and beard. With an easy gesture, the outcast reached down, brushing smooth fur with his fingertips.
The wolf, in reply, thumped its tail more enthusiastically. Arquestan's eyes rose to regard the other hounds of law as they gathered, settled, and shifted around the quiet camp. Beyond the fire to the right were Kalis and Fuyrree, the two speckled terriers sitting upright, staring curiously at their master. And Dulthap, the bucolic bloodhound, and Challis, the burrow-delving corgi, gathered in the darkness to the left. Challis sat upright, the short-legged dog perched upon a round boulder to enhance her otherwise diminutive height. She licked her lips and turned a keen, intelligent gaze toward the wendeam while Dulthap, with a lugubrious look at the darkness, curled around and began to lick himself indecently. Arquestan suppressed a chuckle, then turned to observe the last arrival of the group.
The final bubble settled, flickered for a moment, and then Borath, the staghound, sat directly across the fire from the outcast wind duke. With serene, comprehending eyes, the shaggy animal looked at his master. Borath sat up in a properly alert position as the circle of hounds and vaati was completed.
The wind duke sensed question and concern in that look, emotions he shared with Borath in full. "I know... she is in danger, but Bayar is smart and brave and swift," Arquestan said softly. Borath whined in response, then settled to the ground, head resting upon his outstretched forepaws.
For a moment, the outcast's mind focused on the missing hound. If any member of the magical pack could anticipate the attacks of spyder-fiends and move to warn the potential victims, the clever and courageous Bayar would be the one. Still, the knowledge that he had sent her upon such a dangerous task was a heavy weight in the back of the vaati's awareness.
Abruptly the big staghound raised his head, dark eyes probing the shadowy woods. A pale light glowed there, and the big dog whimpered once, the sound eager, even joyful. The other dogs turned, too, ears upraised, sniffing the faint breeze for a clue. Even the outcast stared, his own keen senses probing the darkness. Finally Arquestan allowed himself a glimmer of joy.
"Ah... she comes back to us." The vaati's broad smile mirrored Borath's joy as the big dog bounded to his feet and barked sharply.
Another bubble of light drifted into view, circling tentatively, then bobbing closer to the fading fire. Gradually the newcomer came to rest on a soft patch of grass, and then the jowly, floppy-eared hound with the skin that was many times too large stood there. Tail wagging, Bayar stepped forward, chuffing softly under the touch of the wind duke's gentle hand, then circling the coals to lie beside her mate. Her head collapsed wearily onto her paws as she leaned against Borath and allowed the big staghound to gently lick her nearest ear.
With several more flops of her heavy tail, Bayar signaled her contentment. Then her melancholy gaze turned upward, staring into Arquestan's golden eyes. The wendeam concentrated, nodding his head and speaking softly.
"I see... this is interesting news indeed. A halfling... and an ogre spawn. Their endeavors are not without promise. Well you have served the cause of law, old girl."
Bayar wrinkled her brow and whimpered softly.
"We share your fear," Arquestan replied gently. "And, yes, chaos is abroad among the planes. See those storms on the horizon? Never has this world been wracked by such. The queen's power is great, and she seeks to reach out into every realm."
Wind sighed through the limbs of the trees, and Arquestan abruptly sat upright, while Borath and Bayar sniffed the air and Terril growled softly, their sounds too quiet to carry beyond the circle.
"Be still, my pets... this is not the surge of chaos. Rather, we may welcome the coming of a friend—or at least an ally."
With a crescendo of groaning and wailing, the wind grew, sighing through the trees, whipping the heavy limbs back and forth. Shortly a vortex of air spun into sight, rising as high as the tallest trees, gliding forward with easy grace.
Nearing the fire, the whirlwind dispersed without fanning or scattering the coals. Arquestan regarded the naked figure standing where the funnel cloud had twirled away, a figure whose black skin was even darker than the outcast's.
"Greetings, Xathwik. You do well to find me here in the distant planes."
The sturdy vindeam, his scalp shaved close and smooth, shuddered, looking at the encircling darkness as he moved closer to the fire.
"It was a matter of all the vaati wizardry—vindeam, rudeam, and even the grideam. In the end, in fact, it was the grideam Farrial who divined your location. He and Balka have discovered some rather urgent news, and we thought it important enough to try to reach you. They merely directed me where to go and how to travel through the trackless ether."
Arquestan chuckled, the sound soft and pleasant within his long rib cage, white teeth flashing in the tangle of his black beard. He settled himself to a stump again and gestured for the other duke to have a seat.
"Farrial should have come himself," Arquestan noted teasingly. "He needs to see the worlds beyond Aaqa every once in a while."
"You know that's impossible!" snapped Xathwik, appalled. "The grideam are bonded to the land; all of their power and knowledge comes from the sanctified ground of our valley. Farrial could no more travel here than he could rip out his own heart."
"I know... it saddens me, but I know."
"It's hard enough for we vindeam to make a journey," continued Xathwik, looking at the surrounding trees with a shiver of discomfort. "Everything is so... disorderly here among the wilds."
Arquestan shrugged. "One merely has to make his own order, and then it's not so bad. Witness the circles of my campsite and fire. Even among the wilds, one can find, or create, places of order and precision."
"But the storms! I see lightning walking along those ridges. Can chaos become any more real, more deadly?" Xathwik's tone was tremulous as he looked at the looming storm clouds.
"True, there are things in the worlds that one cannot control," conceded the outcast. "Yet perhaps that is the greatest danger of Aaqa's isolation. You have come to believe that everything is subject to the purview of law, and such is not the case."
"But this—?" Xathwik squinted at a brilliant, pulsing display of lightning. Seconds later, thunder rolled through the campsite, a basso trembling the two vaati sensed through the soles of their feet.
"Chaos waxes strong, here and in other worlds. This is a disturbing trend, and it grows stronger by the day
, even the hour."
"That bears out the substance of my news," Xath declared solemnly, nodding his smoothly shaved head.
"I know that you are ill at ease, so I will not make waste of your time. What do you have to tell me?"
"Farrial has been studying the activities of the queen. She grows restless, desperate with the knowledge that segments of the rod have been discovered. In her rage, she flexes her power and sends ripples of chaos through the worlds of law."
Arquestan's brow creased into a frown of concern. "This is not entirely a surprise. Has the grideam learned how strong the effects are thus far?"
"Minor, to begin with. Still, even the early manifestations of chaos can be frightening to the mortal population of a world. Imagine awakening to find that a once-blue sky has become red, or that a vast swampland has been rendered into desert!"
"Or storms in a sky that has always been calm," mused the outcast, turning his eyes toward the bright, flickering surges of power.
"The queen's might is great. We are far from the Abyss, yet still she reaches us."
"We must act quickly to forestall her," declared Arquestan. "Is there confirmation of the whereabouts of the seventh segment of the rod?"
Xathwik's voice lowered an octave, and he looked around nervously as if he expected that the woods themselves could hear. "Your guess was as accurate as we could have hoped. Using his arcane formulae, Balka has tracked that segment. The task was not easy, but his powers extended into the very portals of the queen's palace."
Arquestan nodded, not surprised. "From there she has sent it to Pandemonium, has she not? That it may be guarded by Miska himself?"
"How did you know?" The vindeam's eyes widened.
"It is the only thing that makes sense. She could not abide the presence of such law within her own palace, yet she will desire that it be well guarded until her agents can gather the other pieces. I am correct, no?"
Xathwik nodded curtly as Arquestan closed his eyes in meditation. Faced with his companion's silence, the vindeam glowered in growing annoyance. "This was a wasted trip. I traveled to the very gates of chaos, and you already knew the information I so determinedly brought!"
"Not wasted, my friend," replied the outcast. "I needed your confirmation before I could move."
"Move? In what way? Where?"
Arquestan drew a deep breath before answering. "I intend to carry the sixth segment as far as the Oasis of the Planes. The mortals should be able to reach me there, bearing other segments of the artifact."
"The oasis?" Xathwik was appalled. "But how will they survive? Will they not be battling chaos the whole way?"
"No doubt. But from what Bayar tells me, these mortals are ingenious. Perhaps more to the point, they seem to have good luck."
"May we be blessed with the same," offered the vindeam devoutly.
"Aye. And if you fear a wasted trip, you should know, my cousin, that it is good to share the company of a kinsman."
Xathwik harrumphed stiffly, but then his expression softened. "Aye. I'm glad to sit beside your fire for an hour, to see you in the life you have taken on. But there is something more as well."
Deliberately, conscious of his own drama, the vindeam magician pulled the hilt of a mighty sword from his small belt pouch. The haft was followed by a blade the gleaming yellow of pure gold, the massive weapon slowly emerging, far larger than the magical sack that had contained it. Xathwik turned the sword, taking the keen blade in his hands and extending the hilt toward the outcast.
"This is a weapon fit for a great hero, forged in the smithies of Aaqa. You are to take it."
"A fine blade indeed," Arquestan said, impressed. "But it is too heavy for me. I am happy with my twin swords."
"I understand. But you are to grant this golden blade as a gift to a hero who, in your judgment, will bear it with courage, honor, and the steadfastness needed of a champion of law."
"I will seek such a hero." The outcast nodded, remembering Bayar's message. "I know of several mortals who already possess portions of the rod. Perhaps I shall find a champion of law among them, should they be smart and fortunate enough to reach the Oasis of the Planes."
"If they do that, one of them shall certainly be worthy." Xathwik closed his eyes and sighed. For a long time, silence lay between the two vaati, and then the vindeam stood.
"Perhaps next time we shall meet in Aaqa?"
"You know that will never happen," Arquestan replied, a hint of sadness in his voice as he, too, rose to his feet and stretched.
"Yes... I suppose that I do."
Silence again settled like a comfortable blanket around them until, abruptly, the outcast kicked out the fading remnants of his fire.
Before he summoned his whirlwind, Xathwik turned to regard the towering figure of the wendeam. "I—I know that we have had our differences... that some of those schisms run very deep indeed. I want you to believe me in this one thing: I wish you the best of luck." The sturdy, valley-bound wind duke sighed. "How ironic it is that the future of our race, of all the planes where a proper order of life is cherished, has come to depend upon one we have labeled an outcast."
Arquestan smiled, without humor. "Your wishes of luck are well received... as to the irony, let us wait to see how I fare before we offer any thanks."
CHAPTER 13
ARGENPORT
"There it is," I declared, gesturing into the valley below us. "Argenport... city of a thousand delights, more or less. We'll be through the gates in time for a late breakfast!"
We stopped on the shoulder of the mountain road to take in the view. Only a mile or two of descending track remained before Badswell Lummoff and I could finally fall into civilization's embrace.
For a week we had followed the nameless compulsion that guided Badswell toward the third segment of the rod. Pressed through trackless wilderness, our path had ultimately brought us to this pass and would soon enter the city that sprawled in ghostly, tenuous magnificence below.
Argenport rose from the dawn mist like a mystical paradise in the clouds. Low walls and buildings were lost in a dense layer of fog, but towers, peaked roofs, and high gates rose above the vaporous blanket to sparkle in the rising sun. Sprawling through the width of a flat-bottomed valley, Argenport was a vast network of streets, walls, buildings, and towers, filling every space of level ground on the valley floor and climbing onto the steep slopes, clustering on valley shoulders like lichens clinging to mountains of rock. Banks of white mist filled the streets and alleys, burying the lower buildings, leaving mansions and manors and the numerous, lofty watch-towers to jut upward into the early morning sun. The fog stretched beyond the city as well, resembling a flat, formless plain extending to the far horizons.
"Beneath that fog is nothing but ocean—past the city, I mean. You'll be able to see it when the fog lifts."
"How big is it—the ocean?" wondered the half-ogre.
"Real big. Goes all the way to the end of the world, so I've been told. Matter of fact, I've killed a certain amount of time on those docks, looking out to sea...."
In fact, the waterfront of Argenport and the ocean that rolled away from it were the scene of several pleasant memories. Most meaningfully, I recalled with an all-too-familiar pang of grief, the first time I kissed Saysi. It had been on an evening walk along a quiet, deserted pier on that very shoreline. The color of her coppery hair under the full moon had never been more lovely; even in my memory, I saw it shining. Swallowing the lump that was growing in my throat, I sniffled, then angrily shook my head.
All of a sudden my feet seemed terribly sore, my throat parched by an agonizing thirst. The city was looking better and better by the minute.
"Let's go. All the comforts of civilization await!" I started eagerly forward, taking several steps before I realized that the half-ogre had remained in place.
"I dunno, Kip...."
Bads looked dubiously at the expanse of city and slowly shook his head. "Mebbe I'll just go back to the hills."
He nodded grimly, his expression locked in a scowl of stubborn suspicion.
"Cities aren't so bad," I counseled. "Just think of it as a forest with animals all over the place. Only here all the animals can talk."
"And carry swords and shackles," the half-ogre declared morosely. "My Pap told me about shackles."
"Don't worry. I know a thing or two about shackles myself," I assured him. "You're not likely to get locked up as long as I'm around." After all, I could pick locks, couldn't I? Actually, the notion of surreptitious burglary caused a prickle of conscience to move along my spine.
Still reluctant, Badswell reached a hand into his pouch. I knew he touched the chip of ebony, no doubt sensed the compulsion that had brought us across miles of wilderness, through bog and thicket and over mountain ridge.
"The next piece is down there somewhere," he allowed. "I want to go."
"Let's go, then," I encouraged him. "I can show you around, just like I showed Saysi...." My words trailed off as the memories returned, as powerful and painful as ever. This was the city of our first meeting, of many happy times in the last year. Again I longed for her, an ache in my heart as the wind brought a gentle waft of sea breeze that reminded me of that romantic stroll along the waterfront.
"I like her... Saysi," Badswell mumbled.
I looked at him in surprise.
"I mean, from hearing you talkin' 'bout her. She sounds nice," clarified the half-ogre, clapping me roughly on the shoulder.
"You two would have gotten along fine. She'd have liked you, too," I replied, painfully aware that this was wasteful talk, something that could never be.