The Rod of Seven Parts

by Douglas Niles

  "It was the lure of the rod, the sixth piece, that drew us here," Parnish explained.

  "Aye—this segment." Without ceremony, the wind duke opened one of the pouches to remove a piece of black stick, one that we recognized very well as an extension of the pieces that Parnish had already succeeded in joining.

  "It is!" Parnish declared. When Arquestan offered the piece, the wizard removed one hand from the shaft of five segments, carefully, reverently, accepting the sixth piece and holding it up to the sky.

  "And with the sixth, we will know the way to the last, the final piece!" I realized, strangely excited by this dramatic progress in our quest.

  "Aye, though that will be precious little help," Arquestan noted, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "For the final piece is in the hands of the queen's own agents. She has taken steps to deliver it to her foul lover, the wolf-spider, so that Miska may guard it and gain possession of the rest of the rod when you take it into his fortress."

  The wind duke's words sent a shiver of apprehension through my body, but at the same time, it brought my heart to a pounding pulse of excitement. I remembered the image of Miska, the three-headed giant, and his terrifying visage of horror and hate. Our quest was nearing its end, and the conclusion could well bring us into battle with that foul force of ultimate chaos! My earlier thoughts of abandoning the task, of going back to my old life, were distant memories, the fears and weaknesses of another person. I wanted nothing so much as the chance to strike a powerful blow, to make a difference in furthering the cause of law.

  "You are Kip Kayle," Arquestan said, again addressing me. His words formed a statement, not a question, so I merely bowed my head in acknowledgment.

  "A tall halfling," declared the wind duke with a hint of irony, "one who stands at the brink of becoming a great champion of law."

  This time Arquestan's words sent a jolt of awareness through me. Though I had never thought anything of the kind, I sensed that he spoke the truth, feeling in my grim determination that I had become such a champion. My days of thieving, of wandering with the impulse of a given day's winds, were a thing of the distant past. Now my future held epic strife, perhaps a contest with the wolf-spider himself!

  "A champion such as you deserves a weapon worthy of your powers." Arquestan reached to his belt again, this time drawing a mighty sword from a scabbard that had been partially concealed behind him.

  "Behold the Vaati Blade, forged in the smithies of Aaqa, imbued with all the power wind duke mastery can bestow."

  Now it was my turn to gasp in awe as our visitor extended the weapon, hilt first, toward me. The blade was pure gold in color, with a pair of brilliant diamonds gleaming in the hilt. The handgrip was big, suitable for clasping in my two brawny fists. Overall, the weapon was even longer than Saysi was tall. Slowly, feeling a strange anticipation mingled with apprehension, even fear, I reached out and took the leather-wrapped hilt. Arquestan released the weapon, and the sword floated like a feather in my clenched grip.

  "Wh-why?" I stammered, still awestruck. I sensed a foolish smile growing across my face as I looked toward the wind duke for an explanation.

  "You shall prove yourself worthy," Arquestan replied simply. "In some ways, you already have, and in others you will be tested, sooner perhaps than any of us might wish."

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAOS SWARM

  "Nice sword." Badswell lumbered over and, with a tusk-baring grin, leaned down to regard his reflection in the pure gold of my blade. With a blunt fingertip, he touched the keen edge, grunting in pleased confirmation as he raised the bleeding digit to his mouth.

  I raised the mighty weapon, swinging it easily through the air. The blade was supple and light, yet I sensed it was stronger than any mortal steel. And it had been bestowed upon me! For the first time, I felt competent to stand against the queen's tanar'ri with some chance of defending myself and my friends. With the coming of the wind duke, I suspected that we would not have long to wait before my blade, and in fact all of our weapons, would be put to use.

  My attention was distracted by the bizarre globes that had arrived with Arquestan. Glowing even against the remaining daylight, the spheres scattered, as if to inspect our camp. One of the bubbles floated past me, circling my head, then drifted over to Saysi and Badswell. I wondered if the wind duke was telepathically controlling the sphere, but I glanced over to see Arquestan in conversation with Parnish, paying no attention to his glowing attendants.

  The bubble, which seemed to contain a small, glowing spark, settled to the ground, shimmering slightly. Abruptly I found myself staring into a pair of familiar melancholy eyes. Ripples of loose skin cloaked a lean canine body, and a shaggy tail wagged in affectionate greeting.

  "It's the hound!" I declared, tugging at Badswell's arm. "The dog who warned us about the spyder-fiend attacks! She disappeared in the dragon's lair, remember?"

  "Guess she musta floated outta there, huh?" suggested the half-ogre with an affectionate chuckle. He bent down to pat the hound's head, and she leaned against his leg, grunting with contentment as her tail wagged through a wild circle.

  "Ah, Bayar remembers you," Arquestan declared with a deep, resonant chuckle, looking toward us. "She... described some of your adventures to me. You both impressed her with your quick thinking."

  "She talks?" I asked.

  "Not exactly, no. But I have a close empathy with the hounds of law. Often we share our knowledge without the use of words."

  I had no trouble believing further testimony of magic, having just witnessed the animal's dramatic shape shift. Only then did I realize that an assortment of dogs now lolled about our grassy shore—a couple of terriers, a short-legged, fox-faced animal with the body of a much larger dog, a morose-looking bloodhound, a wolf, and a massive staghound.

  "My hounds," Arquestan said by way of introduction. "The sole company of the wendeam. They provide steadfast accompaniment for me in my journeys through the planes." He pointed to the long-legged, shaggy staghound that had watched our attentions to Bayar with interest. "This one is Borath, the leader of my pack and the beloved mate of Bayar."

  "Arquestan, you said that you're a wendeam, and I know that means an outcast. But why? Are you exiled?" Saysi asked with her customary forthrightness.

  "In a sense. It is because I, like others of the order wendeam, travel beyond the rigid sanctity of our valley," Arquestan explained. "And when exploring those other worlds, probing the reaches of distant planes, it is impossible to attain the kind of order that most of the wind dukes require."

  "The legacy of Pesh," Parnish Fegher suggested in a voice husky with awe.

  "Aye, my human friend. With Miska contained after that epic strife, most of the dukes retreated into Aaqa. There they remain to this day."

  "But you wendeam spend the years in search of the rod, do you not?" inquired Rathentweed.

  "Indeed—our years, and our centuries," Arquestan replied. "Which is why this is such a momentous meeting today."

  "Why come here?" Badswell voiced the question that was in my own mind.

  "I came because the Oasis of the Planes is the one place we could meet without subjecting you to passage through the gates or to potentially chaotic teleportation between the planes," the outcast answered. "It is an intersection of worlds, a place where you, Parnish Fegher, could feel the summons of the sixth part of the rod."

  "Indeed, the sense of direction was unfailing," Parnish admitted. "Even during the many days when trackless steppes or endless desert surrounded us."

  "Days or hours may blend when one is passing through the storms of chaos," cautioned Arquestan. "How long do you think you journeyed from Argenport to the oasis?"

  The question was simple, but the answer hard to recall. My memories of the long journey were hazy and unclear. "I'm not certain," I admitted. "Three weeks, perhaps?"

  "Tsk, tsk. No," interjected Parnish curtly. "It was a month at the very least."

  "And your estimate?" With a tight sm
ile, the wind duke turned to Saysi.

  "Two days." She looked almost apologetic as my eyes widened in surprise.

  "Saysi was having some... problems in recollection," I mumbled quietly, trying to speak privately to Arquestan. Surprisingly his smile grew wider.

  "The priestess is correct," he replied, than continued, speaking to the wizard as Parnish stared in speechless surprise. "It is true that your directions guided the party, but it was the priestess of law who held the disruptive forces at bay. Without her, you would still be wandering among the sands of chaos."

  Saysi's tone was pensive. "I thought I was losing my mind...."

  "But it was your faith in Patrikon that allowed you to discern the disruption. So pernicious is the ripple of chaos that your companions might have mistaken your perceptions for madness."

  "He's right, Saysi... I'm sorry." I recognized myself in our visitor's words. The priestess merely hugged me, her arms barely enwrapping my sinewy waist.

  "Are we out of danger, then?" wondered Rathentweed, with a nervous look around. "Is the oasis safe from the queen's tanar'ri?"

  "Alas, no," Arquestan replied. "On a mortal world, they can only be drawn by the use of a segment of the rod. In the sands, however, they can roam at will."

  "That's the second time you mentioned 'the sands.' And you called this the Oasis of the Planes," I pressed. "Where exactly are we?"

  "This is a place between worlds, where the ether and the astral meet amid sand and air, water and fire. From this spring, trails lead to a multitude of worlds, including your own and hundreds more."

  "If we're not safe here, is it not best, then, that we leave immediately?" pressed the gnome.

  "I think not. Take advantage of such time to rest as you have. I think I can assure you that, where we are next bound, the surroundings will be considerably less comfortable."

  I really wanted to ask him about that, but right then Borath rose and growled, hackles bristling across his sturdy shoulders. Bayar stepped beside the staghound, echoing his growl with a rumbled warning of her own.

  "It may be that we are already too late," the wind duke admitted. "Wizard, perhaps you should use the staff."

  "How, my lord duke?"

  "I suggest you bestow the power of the third segment upon our champion."

  I looked on in mystification as Parnish nodded, then turned to me. He extended the tip of the staff, touching my shoulder as his fingers circled the middle of the artifact. There was a sensation like a tiny spark where the rod met my skin.

  Abruptly I felt keen energy flaring through my nerves, a tingling sense of quickness that brought my surroundings into clear, sharp focus. I reached to touch Saysi's shoulder and was startled as she recoiled, then realized that my intended normal movement had whipped my hand out like the blur of a striking snake. Taking a few steps back from my companions, I found that I had darted away in an eyeblink of time.

  "The rod has hastened your movements. The effect will last for only a short time, but I suspect it will be needed," explained the wendeam. "You will find that the enchantment of haste can be quite beneficial during battle."

  In fact, the wind duke's speech seemed dramatically slowed. When Badswell stepped over for a closer look at me, he appeared to move like one struggling through molasses, each step sluggish and deliberate. Bemused, I sensed that Arquestan was right. My movements seemed at least twice as fast as before, yet with as much precision and control as ever. Only then did I think of the rest of his remarks and wonder, What battle?

  One of the camels answered my question with a terrified bellow, rearing as it uttered a shrill, panic-stricken cry, then stomping down again with a ground-shaking thump. Ripping its tether, the wild-eyed animal plunged past us, galloping through the lush grass of the oasis. The second camel roared its own terror, tugging furiously at the leather thong that held tight against the pitching beast, lashing the hapless creature to a stout palm. Barking dogs added to the din as the whole pack milled around, each hound facing the brushy cover around the spring.

  The Vaati Blade raised, its golden metal gleaming in the setting sun, I looked for the as yet unseen enemy. Badswell, his axe poised in his big hands, joined me in squinting at the surroundings of our camp.

  "Over there!" Saysi declared, pointing a steady finger toward the palms beyond the tethered camel.

  The first kakkuu spilled into view, scuttling from the tangled grove beyond the pitching, bucking beast of burden. Wolfish howls resounded through the peaceful glade, ringing from the surrounding dunes with furious intensity, mingling with the frenzied barking of the hounds.

  Two of the eight-legged monsters leapt at the tethered camel, bearing the big animal to the ground, biting and snarling, then lifting bloody jaws from the beast's gored belly. More of the tanar'ri pounced over the still-twitching corpse with prodigious leaps, racing toward us. Howling like ravenous, rabid wolves, the spyder-fiends scuttled as fast as charging horses, encircling our party at the water's edge.

  "Look out on this side!" cried Saysi, yanking my attention to the rear.

  More of the hideous spyder-fiends rushed from thickets along the other shore of the oasis! Badswell bellowed a challenge, bracing himself with his keen, double-bitted axe upraised, while I brandished my golden blade and faced the first kakkuu to appear. Energy tingled through my body, and I felt an urgent desire to counterattack, to rush these beasts in a whirlwind of speed and killing force. Only the need to protect Saysi held me in place.

  Lupine jaws gaped and snarled to the right and left. Holding the hilt of the Vaati Blade in both hands, I flicked the blade back and forth with an agility that would have astounded me if I had wasted a precious second in reflection. The sword a blur in the air, my magically hastened movements whirled the keen edge against one tanar'ri, then the other, without an elapsed blink of time. With desperate, precise violence, I lopped the heads from each kakkuu, ignoring the bodies that thrashed on the ground, spewing blue-black gore.

  Another lunge carried my weapon into a tanar'ri skull, and two quick slashes cut into a pair of the monsters charging to either side. A dozen spyder-fiends halted just out of reach of my blade, growling and slavering. The wolf heads swung low, eyes bright with menace, but apparently the sudden deaths of five of their companions had given them some small measure of caution.

  Flames crackled amid the lush palms, searing leaves into instant blackness, hissing and sputtering around the bodies of spyder-fiends as Parnish Fegher's fireball spell caught a cluster of tanar'ri in its deadly sphere. Immediately the wizard chanted more arcane commands, his voice clear and calm above the chaos of the melee, and in seconds, a massive lightning bolt blasted through more kakkuu, violently rending the monsters as they scrambled over the torn body of our unfortunate camel.

  A weblike strand of silk shot from the body of a snarling kakkuu, wrapping my ankle like a tentacle, but a flick of the golden blade severed the line like a razor slicing thread, then bit into the head of the web-spitter. Hisses of rage exploded from a nearby tanar'ri, and I whirled to face one of the grotesque monsters that commanded the kakkuu—a lycosyd. The humanlike arms jutting from the monster's shoulders met above its head, terminating in hands that clutched a huge gray-bladed sword.

  "Your fight is futile, champion of nothing!" the spyder-fiend said with a sneer, the human speech incongruously emerging from the grotesque wolf jaws. The sword whistled toward my head. "In the end, chaos must prevail!"

  I raised the Vaati Blade with the instant of thought, deflecting the crushing blow with a ring of metal. The monster's insult flamed my temper, a passion as surprising as my apparently instinctive skill with this mighty blade. Smashing aside the lycosyd's next hacking chop, I skipped away from the snapping bite of venomous fangs, drawing back like a mongoose evading a cobra. With crushing force, I brought the golden weapon down onto the monster's chitinous back. The keen edge sliced through the bony plates, the lycosyd shrieking in agony as gore spilled from the gaping wound, bluish-black ichor
staining the body and the ground as the creature died.

  Yet my sword, as I whirled to seek the next foe, remained as gleaming gold and pristine as ever. It occurred to me that this unnatural cleanliness in the midst of such gory work was odd, an unusual effect of the weapon's potent enchantment.

  Borath roared into the fight, teeth sinking into a kakkuu's flank. With a wrenching twist, the mighty staghound threw back his head, pulling the tanar'ri off its feet. Yelping, the eight-legged monster tumbled away, falling to lie on the ground, twitching in the throes of death. Bayar, as ferocious as her mate, leapt to protect Borath's flank, driving back another spyder-fiend with fang-baring fury.

  Badswell, his axe coated with dark tanar'ri gore, stood before Rathentweed as the gnome guarded his back, jabbing and thrusting with a long-bladed knife. Parnish stood just to the side, casting a volley of sparking magic missiles, while Arquestan raised his smooth pole and bashed it right and left with crushing effect.

  Suddenly, shockingly, a pair of kakkuu blinked into sight a few feet in front of me and just a step away from Saysi. I had encountered teleportation before, but the tactic was so startling that I gaped in momentary, nearly fatal, astonishment. The little priestess raised her club, swiping at the first of the nearby monsters while the second lunged, jaws slashing toward her pixie face. Finally I reacted, springing in a blur of muscle and golden metal. The Vaati Blade slashed, slicing the kakkuu in two just before its cruel fangs could rip into Saysi's cheek.

  Whirling around, snarling furiously, the second kakkuu barely had time to crouch before my blade sent the wolfish head tumbling to the ground. Without pause, I rushed at another one of the monsters, dropping it with a double strike, one blow to the flank and a follow-up slash, as its head snapped around, to split the hateful skull. In fury and desperation, I turned to a new target, slaying and chopping mightily in the midst of the swarming tanar'ri.

  The monsters snapped and snarled around me, lunging from all sides. Aided by the magic of the rod's haste power, I slashed back and forth amid deadly jaws. My blade cut here, stabbed there, then swirled back in a murderous, decapitating swipe. Three kakkuu fell in the blink of an eye, and before the bodies lay still, I hurled myself at the next spyder-fiends.