The queen pivoted, the shifting of her tentacles making moist sucking noises on the slick floor. She addressed the raklupis that now stood atop the stairway. "Laak-ral, you will guard the captives, ensuring that they view the destruction of the first battle."
"Yes, my queen," declared the tanar'ri in an improbably genteel voice. The raklupis called Laak-ral stalked toward Saysi and me, positioning himself well to the side so that he could observe us and also have a clear view of the queen and the wolf-spider. Wolfish head lowered, the monster swung its attention back and forth between us and its master.
"Mistress of my life... remember the rod. It is still a threat, however small and pathetic its wielders." Miska's yellow eyes glared from the two wolf heads as his chiseled human features addressed the goddess of chaos. I sensed that the wolf-spider was tired of these games and would just as soon slay us instantly, then proceed with his long-anticipated offensive. "I would caution you to have them place it out of reach before we commence."
"A wise precaution, my beloved. You, the female runtling—bring the staff forward and place it beside that ridiculously oversized sword."
I looked across the floor, to where I had dropped the Vaati Blade when I had abruptly returned to my true size. How had I thought myself worthy of such a weapon? The question mocked me, increased my rage and frustration, but did nothing to overcome my utter despair.
Miserably I watched Saysi step forward, bearing the Rod of Seven Parts. Her head was lowered, as if she were unwilling to look at the looming horrors before her. Only as she passed did I see that her lips moved, that her face was locked in an expression of silent concentration.
Reaching the sword, she placed the rod on the floor, across the blade that was still stained with Arquestan's blood. Odd, I thought, how no other wound had left even the smallest blemish on that immaculate golden surface, yet the slaying of the wind duke had apparently created a mark of surprising endurance.
As the ebony artifact touched the keen blade, I heard a faint buzzing sound, like distant bees on a still summer day. Surely I imagined the noise. None of the others in the vast chamber seemed to take notice.
"Miska himself will lead the attack upon your world, commencing in this place... Colbytown." The queen spoke the name with a scornfulness that wrenched at my heart. I thought of my sisters, of the nieces and nephews who always greeted me with such enthusiasm on my rare visits home. Perhaps they would be gone, traveling somewhere, and avoid the initial onslaught of chaos....
I all but gagged at the pathetic hope. What did it matter if they survived for a few days, cowering in terror as the force of chaos was unleashed across the world? No place would be safe from the spyder-fiends and their even more horrifying allies. Once the battles began, the ravages of chaos would be utter and all-encompassing.
The buzzing I had noticed before grew slightly louder, certainly more than merely my imagination. The golden sword itself seemed to be the source of the sound, and as I cast a glance from the corner of my eye, I fancied that I could see the weapon move slightly, vibrating with almost invisible pulsations.
The queen was speaking again, and I forced myself to listen, not wanting to give her any cause for hasty execution. I sensed that the longer she talked, the more time we gained for all the worlds unknowingly awaiting the ruthless onslaught.
"...must be Miska himself, for only he can unite the horde that serves me, can bind these chaotic warriors into the kind of force needed to overwhelm whole realms, to devastate entire worlds."
I recalled Arquestan's words and realized that the queen had echoed the wind duke's explanation and our own decision: Miska was the key!
The queen looked at the gigantic eight-legged horror, her eyes shining with something resembling affection. The wolf-spider shifted back and forth, lupine jaws drooling, heads pivoting this way and that in eagerness to commence the war of destruction.
The bloated monstrosity that was his lover crowed, praising her demonic pet in glowing terms, but I had ceased to listen. My eyes remained surreptitiously glued to the Vaati Blade, certain now that it was moving, that the buzzing hum was caused by the resonance of the gilded weapon.
Abruptly the bloodstain vanished from the metal, hissing softly upward into a column of dark steam. Shifting my gaze, I tried to avoid watching, looking toward the raklupis Laak-ral and Miska instead. The tanar'ri was fascinated with his mistress's words, while the wolf-spider shifted with increasing agitation, turning his heads around to look at the space beyond the Queen of Chaos.
Following the direction of his gaze, I saw with horror that the whitish light denoting the gates between planes had solidified. I could clearly see the avenue of white pillars, a tunnel such as the spyder-fiends employed on their earlier attacks. I recognized familiar landmarks beyond that cream-sided tunnel—the millpond and stream of Colbytown, the quaint barns and silos dotting verdant hillsides beyond. Tiny figures probed along the shore, much as I had done as a youngster, and I grimaced at the thought of innocent little halflings fishing and frog-catching, unaware of the terror that was about to descend and shatter their lives and futures with cruel glee.
Tearing my eyes away, I looked back to the sword, and to the steam coalescing into a pillar above the weapon. Abruptly the blade itself became translucent, fading from view, while at the same time the column of steam grew solid and dark and recognizable. In the space of a split second, the sword was gone and the image of the wind duke Arquestan stood in its place. Laak-ral uttered a shrill cry of alarm, crouching to spring as the black-skinned outcast bent and snatched up the rod in a smooth gesture.
"Hold!" cried the figure who so resembled Arquestan, brandishing the artifact at the poised raklupis. With a screech of fury and frustration, the monster froze, locked in place by the power of the rod.
"You!" spat the enraged Miska, all three heads whirling to confront this new danger.
"An old enemy, wolf-spider—one almost as hard to kill as you yourself."
It was Arquestan! That deep and resonant voice carried the confidence and courage that had been hallmarks of the wind duke's steady presence. Now he raised the Rod of Seven Parts, holding it over one shoulder like a javelin as he rushed toward the towering wolf-spider.
Miska's reaction took me, and apparently Arquestan, by surprise. The three-headed horror shrilled in panic, spinning away from the wind duke, attempting to dive behind the bloated form of the queen.
That chaotic monarch shrilled her own rage, lashing a tentacle across the floor with whiplike fury. Arquestan leapt over the whipping tendril in a smooth movement, closing on the scuttling figure of Miska. With a powerful stab, muscles rippling beneath his ebony skin, he drove the narrow tip of the staff against the wolf-spider's bulging abdomen.
Miska's shriek of agony was a sound unlike anything I had ever heard, an explosion of noise that tore at the very fabric of my flesh. I dropped to the floor, hands clasped reflexively over my ears, vaguely aware of Saysi tumbling beside me as the sound echoed through the chamber with crushing force.
But the wolf-spider pulled away before the artifact could be driven into his body. Spinning to face Arquestan, Miska lowered himself into a flat crouch, fury apparent in the slavering wolf heads and the demented features of the enraged man face. The wind duke wielded the rod in both hands, bashing aside the snapping bites of both pairs of jaws. He circled to the side, even though he exposed himself to the crushing attack of the wolf-spider's powerful clenched fist, a blow that sent the black-skinned outcast staggering, sparks crackling from the deflection he delivered with the rod.
Then I saw the reason for the tactic, as the queen rose to her full height, lashing and screeching in her fury. The wind duke kept Miska between himself and the enraged monstrosity, knowing that she would make no attack that would endanger her beloved.
Pouncing like a panther, the eight-legged wolf-spider leapt at Arquestan, desperately flailing at the rod with his humanoid arms. I noticed a trail of ichor spilling from the puncture
in his belly, sensed that the monstrous being had been sorely hurt by the first stab of the rod.
With a deft feint, the wind duke started to the left and then darted back to the right. The huge wolf-spider landed where its foe had been, but now Arquestan had skirted two steps to the side. Muscles tense, bearing the rod like a long, slender sword, the outcast pierced Miska's body just behind the nearest wolf head. Driving the rod inward until only a handspan remained outside of the bone-shelled body, the wendeam gave the weapon a wrenching twist. Then he withdrew the gore-streaked rod, waving it over his head as the wolf-spider shrieked a cry of awful, ultimate doom.
Arquestan's bright eyes flashed and his white teeth gleamed in a grin of pure triumph as the wind duke brought the rod around again. Miska slumped to the floor, and once again Arquestan pierced him, this time shouting loudly in his clear, defiant voice.
"Back to your prison, hateful one! Again you are mastered by the Rod of Law!"
"No!"
The queen's shriek of rage was even louder than the wolf-spider's cry of pain. Time seemed to come to a standstill. Nothing moved except the blurring and fading of Miska's shape.
"Back to your prison! I banish thee!" cried Arquestan, standing tall and raising the Rod of Seven Parts over his head. The image of the monstrous arachnoid horror grew faint, misty, and then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
"You will die!" screamed the Queen of Chaos, raising both hands above her head, her voice a mix of incomprehensible grief and utter, consuming fury.
"Flee!" Arquestan turned toward us for the first time. He cast the rod through the air, and Saysi caught the artifact in both hands.
Lightning flashed and explosive thunder rumbled through the Fortress of Chaos. Bolts of crackling energy smashed into the bold, proud wind duke, driving him back with cruel force. Another blast echoed, and Arquestan's body was shattered by the killing power of the queen's vengeance, torn into shreds, the gory pieces cast across the high balcony.
Following the destruction with my eyes, I was startled to see the raglike bundle next to the wall twitch, to meet the gaze of mournful, yet living, eyes. Abruptly Bayar climbed to her feet, shook herself, and galloped over to us, barking urgently.
I gaped in awe at the courage and sacrifice of the noble hero, at the amazing recovery of the battered hound. Saysi chanted something behind me. Abruptly a swirl of wind swept me up from the floor. Bayar, very near to us, leapt upward to land in the whirlwind's compartment. The chariot moved fast, bearing us around the back of the Queen of Chaos. The bloated fiend's attention remained, for the moment, focused on the place where her lover had disappeared, and where the wind duke had died. Her cries of grief and rage thundered like a strong gale, sending her minions scuttling in a frenzy to flee back down the ramps.
Vaguely I realized that Saysi had used the rod to summon the whirlwind chariot. I tripped over something large, saw that she had gathered Badswell's stiff, blackened corpse into the riding compartment as well. Bayar, panting eagerly, rode with her forepaws on the edge, looking around with a rumbling, belligerent growl.
Saysi's goal was clear. The gate to Colbytown yawned before us. Already the edges of the circular hole grew faint, the power that had compelled its opening cooled by the chaos within the queen's palace. Though she had called the gate into being, the disappearance of her beloved Miska clearly was causing it to fade rapidly.
I saw the queen's eyes shift to the paralyzed, helpless form of Laak-ral, still frozen where Arquestan had held him at bay. She pointed, shrieking in rage, and the raklupis exploded into a cloud of gore under the monstrous and irresistible power of his mistress's vengeful rage.
The gate was closing faster now, the image of Colbytown fading like a picture viewed through gauzy cloth. Saysi tipped the whirlwind, compelling every ounce of speed from the spiraling chariot. Bayar barked eagerly, ears flapping, pink tongue extended as she stared keenly into the gate.
And then we were through, surrounded by blue skies and calm breezes, watching the shimmering hole slowly fade behind us. Below, the millpond rippled under the gentle wind, then swirled into a splashing wake as the funnel cloud of our chariot cruised across the water. I looked back, Goldfinder ready in my hand, to see the last, shimmering image of the gate closing in the green hillside above my village.
My knees felt strangely weak, and I wasn't certain we were actually safe. Slowly fear and awe subsided, replaced by a subtle but growing sense of elation. "Miska's gone—his army scattered, no one to unite, to lead it," I whispered in awe, realizing the consequences of our struggle and the sacrifices of brave companions.
"Arquestan... where... how was he still alive?" Saysi asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
The memory of the wind duke's return to life, and his subsequent death, cooled my initial feelings of joy. I tried to recreate in my mind what had happened. "His blood on the blade... it must have captured some of his essence, given the vaati weapon the power to make the transformation. When you touched the sword with the rod, it began to buzz, as if it were coming to life."
"It was," she agreed quietly.
Saysi set us down in the village square, and as the whirlwind faded to a gentle breeze, we stood over the body of our loyal half-ogre friend. Bayar sniffed the corpse morosely as diminutive villagers crept forward from the surrounding groves, pitchforks, staffs, and sickles in clear evidence as they scrutinized the new arrivals.
The door to the Big Tankard Inn popped open, and out swaggered the officious form of Burgman Deister, the mayor of my little hometown village. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, stepping hesitantly closer.
"Kip? By all the kegs in my cellar, is that really you?"
"Aye, Burgman," I said with a nod. I recognized Hallie and Berdeen, my sisters, as each rushed forward with a brood of little ones in tow. Even they halted a few steps away, sensing our grief.
Bayar whined plaintively, prodding at the lifeless half-ogre with her moist black snout. She padded with her forepaw, tail wagging expectantly.
My heart was heavy with grief, bearing a load more burdensome than any I had ever borne before. The loss of this bold and loyal companion was too high a price for any accomplishment. And all the others who had perished... Rathentweed, Parnish, and the nearly immortal wendeam Arquestan.
"Parnish Fegher told us of another power, a thing that the rod can do. Do you remember?" Saysi asked hesitantly, kneeling beside the body. The halflings of Colbytown remained in their circle around us, standing well back, as if they expected some sort of magical eruption.
That was a reasonable fear, I suddenly perceived as I understood what Saysi was proposing.
"It will probably scatter the rod again," I warned softly. "The artifact will be gone—all that power, all that law—out of our lives forever."
"I know," she said softly. The liquid, chocolate-colored eyes rose to mine, suggesting, persuading as she spoke. "You know we can't hold on to it, don't you? Sooner or later, someone—or something—will come for it. I know that I can't live with that knowledge, waiting for inevitable disaster... tomorrow, or the day after, or next year."
"You're right." I saw the truth clearly "It would suit me if it scatters again, vanishes into the mists of the planes." My mind flicked to a memory of something Arquestan had told us about the rod's history. "Maybe it'll stay lost for seven centuries again."
When she started to speak, the beginnings of a twinkle gleamed in the priestess's dark eyes. "Well, what are we waiting for?"
Saysi placed the Rod of Seven Parts over Badswell's still chest and rose, bowing her head in prayer. The gathered halflings took, in unison, about a dozen steps backward, leaving the two of us alone with the hound and our slain friend in the village square.
Whatever she said, Saysi's prayer took a long time. My mind reflected on the changes I had undergone, grateful that I was again small, again me. I remembered the places we had been, the dangers we had faced—and the little village around me had never seemed so perfect, so welco
ming and comfortable.
Power began to build with a rumbling sensation, like the booming of very distant thunder. I felt the vibration through my bare feet, saw the Rod of Seven Parts begin to tremble, vibrating on Badswell's rounded chest. A searing flash crackled through the square, like lightning from the clear blue sky. A series of pops echoed sharply, a staccato pattern of seven loud, brief cracks. They happened quickly, but I was able to see the rod break apart, each piece vanishing with one of the explosive sounds.
The last to go was the tiny stub of ebony that I had first encountered in the lair of Scarnose Ogre. When that one vanished, I let out a sigh of relief and muttered a prayer to Patrikon that never again would I lay eyes on one of the shiny black segments.
Badswell snorted, like a loud, growling snore. Kicking his feet, stretching slowly and awkwardly as if awakening from a peaceful slumber, he sat up and blinked his eyes. The big half-ogre smiled at Saysi, then turned his eyes to me, mouth gaping in a grin that bared the prettiest tusks I'd ever seen.
EPILOGUE
Though we three travelers were virtually penniless, the occasion of my wedding proved to be one of the grandest extravaganzas Colbytown had ever seen. Burgman Deister donated many kegs of his finest brew, and my sisters and their husbands combined to prepare a magnificent feast.
A high priest of Patrikon traveled from a nearby temple to perform the ceremony, and Badswell stood over Saysi and me, scattering blossoms and offering drinks to whoever came by—and, this being a village of halflings, naturally a lot of people came by. Bayar sat beside us in a position of honor, though later in the evening, she amused the youngsters by shifting shape to her pearly globe, floating playfully just above the eager, clutching fingers of the children.
After a night of dancing, music, and revelry, the blushing bride and I retired to our quarters. In the intimacy of a candlelit bedchamber, Saysi...
The Rod of Seven Parts Page 29
