Reeling under an assault of dizziness, I turned away and was confronted by the mouth of a gaping tunnel, a thing so huge that it could have engulfed Argenport and the surrounding farmlands in its maw without the slightest difficulty. The pits marring the plain, though huge, were dwarfed by this massive aperture. The rim of the tunnel's mouth was vaguely circular, yet I got the sense that one could have walked all the way around the walls without falling, as if there were no ceiling but merely a tubular "ground" that somehow knew no up and down.
I was not surprised when Arquestan inclined his head, and the whirlwind rushed toward that gaping maw. Looking back, I caught a quick glimpse of a mountain range that seemed to be floating on a base of cloud and a sea of blood red that curved upward and away, as if it lined the inside of a great bowl. The vistas everywhere defied logic, challenged any attempt at explanation, and yet they looked as real, as solid as any fundament that had ever supported me in my own world.
For a fleeting moment, I shared Saysi's apprehension, wondering if I would ever see familiar places again. With a growing pang, I thought of Colbytown, that quaint little halfling village where... what? I knew the place had some significance to me, but once again my mind was thick and unfocused, my memories vague. Two plump halfling maids came into my thoughts, each surrounded by a brood of little ones... Hallie and Berdeen they were called, somebody's sisters....
Suddenly I treasured green hills, blue water, white-capped mountains, and sandy beaches with a poignancy that took my breath away.
I realized that Saysi was crying, and I pulled her close, cradling her in my brawny arms in a vain effort to offer shelter from the surrounding chaos. Casting a quick glance at Arquestan, I saw that the wind duke's face was set in an expression of grim, total concentration. His teeth were clenched, chips of white in the blackness of his tightly curled beard, and his dark eyes stared into the depths of that vast tunnel as if they attempted to penetrate the very depths of Pandemonium.
"Put me down... please," Saysi declared in a tight, controlled voice. I obeyed, and she turned to the wall of our airy chariot, clutching her jade amulet and avoiding my concerned, inquiring gaze.
Curiosity had begun to get the best of my fear, and I watched in awe as we swept into the vast, cavernous expanse. Lifeless landscapes of barren desert, cracked and broken mountains, and dry, eroded hills covered all the sides. I forced myself to resist the notion to think in terms of floor, walls, and ceiling, since there seemed to be no difference in the pull of gravity in any direction.
Unwilling to disturb the wind duke's concentration, I turned to Parnish, who glowered as I stepped to his side. Looking down into his smooth, clean-shaven face, I was not reassured to see that the wizard's jaw was clenched, his eyes, wide with fear, staring through the steel-rimmed spectacles.
"What is Pandemonium?" I asked quietly, not wanting to alarm Saysi any further.
"A place of terror and disorder, one of the most chaotic, wildest, and most miserable of the Outer Planes," he hissed through clenched teeth, words expelled with staccato precision, as if it required a great force of will for him to make any sound at all. "Home to chaos of all forms, and to the fortress prison of the wolf-spider in particular. The wind duke takes us to his very doorstep!"
"Do you know why?" I asked, turning to look at Arquestan, who still guided his whirlwind with that impassive expression of concentration.
"There can be only one reason—the seventh part of the rod. I can feel its presence now, which I was unable to do at the oasis or indeed since we began to travel the ether."
"It is time for your spell, wizard. Any further delay and she may learn of our presence." The wind duke spoke grimly.
"Very well." Parnish removed the long segment of rod that Arquestan had given him at the oasis. I saw by the markings on the black surface that at some point during our travels the magic-user had marked it with the blue sigils such as he had inscribed on the first five pieces prior to joining them in his mansion.
The assembled portion of the rod had been marked in preparation for the conjunction, in thick and dramatic script near the wide end, trailing into tiny, faint hieroglyphics near the almost pointed terminus that had once been the smallest stub of the great artifact. When I recalled carrying that lone healing stick with me upon embarking on this grand adventure, it was with vague and hazy memories, almost as if I remembered the substance of someone else's life, like tales told around a smokey and fading campfire or recalled from the depths of a sleep-shrouded dream.
Rathentweed came forward at some unspoken command from the master wizard, taking the sixth piece and holding it before his large, rounded nose. Parnish took the already joined segments and lifted the staff until the two portions were carefully aligned, though with a gap of several feet still precisely maintained between them.
The wizard began to chant, and it seemed as though the whirling air within the chariot grew very still. Only when I glanced around did I see that Arquestan had brought our airy conveyance to a complete halt, obviously waiting for the magic-user's enchantment. In words that grew into a harsh, brittle crescendo, Parnish harnessed the forces of law, channeled them into a mastery of this artifact.
In a sensation that was very different from my initial, reluctant participation in the ceremony of adjoinment, I eagerly watched the bonds of magic grow between the two sections. Sparks of white light crackled there, and Rathentweed closed his eyes, scrunching his bearded, big-nosed face in an effort to avoid the compelling power. Badswell gaped in awe, a trail of drool hanging unnoticed from one of his tusks, and then he, too, clapped his eyes shut. Even that wasn't enough; the half-ogre abruptly whirled, averting his entire face from the crackling power that swept outward to envelop the rod.
Saysi, I saw with a quick glance, hadn't even raised her head from her knees. If she was even remotely aware of the ceremony enacted only a few feet away from her, she gave no sign.
On the other hand, I found the entire procedure compelling. I couldn't have turned my eyes away if I had wanted to. Raptly I watched as the lone piece in Rathentweed's grip rose into the air, hovering on its own as the gnome snatched his hands away. With a pounding, thunderous explosion and a white flare of sputtering brightness, the wandlike terminus shot directly toward the adjoined segments in Parnish's hands. The wizard reeled backward as the sound of thunderclap resounded through the small compartment of the chariot. Lightning etched him in a silhouette of crackling brightness, and the acrid scent of ozone stung my nostrils. The smoke wafted away, and the magic-user's ever precise hair stood on end, sparking and flickering with bright power.
After a few seconds, the sparks died down, and the wizard held a seamless staff that had grown by the length of the sixth segment. Perhaps four feet long now, the artifact was taller than Saysi or Rathentweed, its ebony darkness fully as black and as pure as Arquestan's skin.
The wizard reeled dizzily, and I reached out a hand to steady him. Parnish's eyes were glazed, but slowly came into focus—and when they did, his stare widened in terror and awe. Following the direction of his gaze, I, too, looked beyond the chariot, and my hand went involuntarily to the hilt of the Vaati Blade.
A vast fortress had arisen before us, separated from the chariot by the gulf of a deep canyon, a chasm that seemed to extend around the full circumference of the vast, circular tunnel. Above, below, and to all sides, the "ground" plummeted into a haze of blackness and smoke, sometimes illuminated by distant fires of crimson fury, in other places fully obscured by the mists and fogs of chaos.
But the fortress itself stood in clear relief, proudly capping a pinnacle of white stone, a promontory so high that it jutted nearly to the center of this vast tunnel. Twisting towers rose from beyond walls of slick black, with crenellated battlements circling all the spire of rock, enclosing structures of smooth stone within.
Parts of the fortress were the same white stone as the alabaster pedestal, while others—such as a huge, narrow keep rising from within high walls—wer
e as purely black as the Rod of Seven Parts. I saw bridges of crimson stone connecting some of the upper towers, and one of the walls was the same pale blue as the sky that had formed the upper boundary of a distant and pastoral world—the only world I had ever known until the beginning of this journey.
There seemed to be no way for a land-bound creature to reach this fortress. The spire supporting it was at least four or five miles high, with sides as sheer and featureless as the smoothest glacier-scoured cliff.
Only by looking very carefully did I notice a haze, like a film of mist in the air, that seemed to encircle the entire place. It apparently rose from the bedrock of the white-colored spire, swirling into the air, expanding to enclose all of the towers, every wall and bridge and building within the lofty fortress, then coming together to form a pointed peak in the space above the castle's highest tower.
"The cocoon of law," whispered Parnish Fegher as his own eyes followed mine in tracing the outline of the pale mist. The barrier was so faint as to be almost invisible, and it certainly did not provide any obstacle to our attempts to view the castle.
"Indeed," Arquestan declared in his deep, rumbling voice. "It looks tenuous, but it is stronger than steel, and it imprisons Miska, prevents him from departing the castle."
"What is the threat in one monster?" Badswell asked. "How can he make worlds end?"
"He does it by leading, by mastering the forces of chaos," Arquestan explained patiently. "The servants of the queen are, for the most part, incapable of working together. If there are more than a dozen or two of them in one place, they almost certainly start fighting each other. Yet Miska is able to lash many thousands of them to his will, to lead them on campaigns of unceasing fury and destruction."
"And if he is freed...?" I wasn't sure I wanted to have the answer spelled out, but I needed to ask the question.
"He will certainly commence another war, spreading chaos across all the planes. Indeed, his frustration, coupled with the queen's fabled impatience, would probably lead to the initiation of an attack within hours of his escape."
"Can he travel through planes like you?" Saysi wondered.
Arquestan smiled dryly, but without amusement. "My kinsmen consider that a curse—that we wendeam, the outcasts, can find the paths that lead between the planes. "But you are correct. One such as Miska can follow those paths as well, even make his own roads. That is one reason we made certain to imprison him so completely after the incomplete triumph of Pesh."
"Why have you brought us here?" I asked, already knowing the answer and feeling a strange thrill of anticipation, when all my rational mind told me that I should be completely, desperately afraid.
The wind duke regarded me shrewdly, clear eyes narrowed, white teeth bared in an expression that might have been smile or snarl. Tilting his head slightly, he encompassed all of my companions in his gaze; I noticed that even Saysi raised her head, regarding Arquestan with an expression mingling apprehension and awe.
"Because within this fortress prison, guarded by Miska himself and no doubt also protected by the watchful presence of his tanar'ri bodyguards, there shall you find the seventh and final piece of our artifact of law."
CHAPTER 21
HALLS OF THE RAKLUPIS
"Use the rod," Arquestan told Parnish. "Only thus may we pass the cocoon of law." The whirlwind was poised a stone's throw away from the fortress, and we mortal passengers stared in awe at the bleak edifice.
The wizard did as he was told, standing at the very edge of the whirlwind chariot, raising the ever-growing staff out before him, and reaching it toward the lofty fortress that by now loomed forbiddingly close.
Arquestan pointed to one of the nearest towers, a squat block of stone that rose straight from the precipice of the stone pillar. "When we reach that tower, I'll float in the space just beyond the fortress wall. You must all quickly leap to the platform. Seek the seventh piece within the structure."
"We must?" squeaked Rathentweed. "What about you?"
"The wolf-spider knows me. He would sense my approach. I must await you outside, or he shall certainly intercept us. As it is, I shall try to distract him by luring him to the opposite corners of his prison."
The misty barrier of the cocoon became visible as a filmy membrane, apparently made of air. Parnish extended the rod, and the artifact made a soft tearing sound as it sliced through the tenuous layer. The whirlwind angled slightly, though the deck remained solid and flat under our feet, and with a slight strain, Arquestan guided us through the gap and poised his airy chariot beside the battlements of one of the fortress's largest towers.
"Go!" he urged, and Badswell and Parnish leapt from the compartment, perched on the rampart, then jumped down to the surface within the cocoon. Rathentweed stood at the edge, trembling, but he seemed utterly incapable of flinging himself into space.
"C'mon, little feller," urged Badswell, turning to the gnome. "I'll catch ya!"
Finally Rathentweed closed his eyes and hurled himself outward. With an easy grab, Badswell proved as good as his word, snatching the gnome out of the air and setting him safely onto the platform.
I stood ready to jump, then looked back to see Saysi staring grimly at me from her position beside the whirlwind's far wall.
"Come on!" I urged, holding out a hand.
For a second, I thought she was going to refuse, but then she rose and came forward, taking my hand.
"If this will help me get you back," she said, "then I'll try!"
Together we leapt the narrow gap, landing easily on the wall. She shook her head despairingly as we stepped down to join our other companions on the white stone floor of the battle platform. The tower top was a large circle surrounded by the battlement. Beyond, space plunged into a deep courtyard, from the center of which the black, imposing monolith of the keep rose into the chaotic sky.
Arquestan and his chariot, still within the cocoon of law, began to rise away from us with a gusty motion that set Saysi's copper curls lashing across her face.
"I'll stay nearby, moving around the outside of the palace." The wind duke spoke briskly, electric tension conveyed by his rigid posture and the intensity of his piercing stare. "Miska will sense me, and that should give you a bit of a diversion. Also, realize that there will certainly be a raklupis or two about. In the old days, they formed the wolf-spider's most trusted, fanatic bodyguards."
"What about these raklupis? Are they like the other spyder-fiends?" I inquired.
"They're worse. A raklupis can appear in any guise. Should you meet anything within, human or elf or drooling horror, there's a good chance that it will be one of these potent tanar'ri. Remember, suspect everything."
"Good luck!" I called as the spiraling cloud rose and then zoomed quickly around a corner of a castle tower.
Swiftly we crossed the platform, anxiously watching for signs of defense. The courtyard appeared empty, and we quickly discovered that a long bridge spanned the distance from our tower to the keep. With no better route before us, we started across the span, drawing steadily closer to the vast edifice of black stone. The bridge terminated in an entryway that was secured by a very strong-looking door.
Parnish strode up to the barrier, which was a heavy, iron-banded structure in a wall of bright blue stone. The portal seemed to be the only way to get off this rampart, and even from my vantage across the way, I could see the outline of a massive iron lock.
"I'll smash it down," I declared confidently, drawing the gold-bladed sword.
"Kip!" Saysi hissed with an urgency I couldn't ignore. "Just pick the lock! That's how you always get into places you're not supposed to be!"
"I can't do that!" I protested, shocked that she would suggest such a thing.
"No," she replied bitterly. "I suppose you can't. That wouldn't be lawful, would it?"
"You should know that as well as I!" Surprised by the anger in her tone, I decided this wasn't the right time to argue about it.
The door had a large iron cl
asp, securing it solidly against my attempt to pull it open. The locking mechanism was primitive by comparison to some I had seen, but since I didn't have a key, it might as well have been the most advanced in all the worlds. No matter, since one bash of my heavy-bladed sword reduced the door to splinters, and I stepped through the shattered barrier with the Vaati Blade raised before my face.
Badswell and Saysi followed right behind, with Rathentweed chasing after and Parnish Fegher, staff held in both hands, bringing up the rear. Though the hallway was dim, I had no difficulty seeing, and I realized that the illumination seemed to be everywhere. It wasn't just the outside light spilling through the doorway.
Walls of blue stone extended into the middle distance. The floor was clean, and the ceiling... well, it was nonexistent. I looked upward into a mass of swirling, bluish smoke. The vapor was thick, suspended in a dense layer well above my reach, even when I raised my sword and tried to touch the stuff with the end of the blade.
I started forward without hesitation, striding purposefully down the hallway in long steps. The far end of the corridor was shadowed to either side, suggesting that additional passages broke to the left and right. The distance didn't look particularly far, but it took a surprisingly long time for us to traverse the length of the hall. I had counted something like a hundred steps before we drew near the branching corridors.
As we approached to within a dozen paces of the intersection, I was startled to see a woman step into view from the opening to the left. She was clad in a gown of dazzling blue silk that did little to conceal full, voluptuous features. Her face was stunningly beautiful, framed by high cheekbones and hair of shimmering gold.
The Rod of Seven Parts Page 24
