Artifact of Evil

Chapter 28

The quiet of the night was shattered by the sound of an advancing army. That it moved heedless of any opposition bespoke its size and the power of those who commanded the host. It went through the heart of Vesve Forest, southward. It was a Host of Iuz, a horde of bandits, the vilest of mercenary humans, and every sort of humanoid imaginable. Loathsome trolls shambled with the army, and great ogres tramped in its ranks. The force marched on heedless of any danger, and at its head rode the archmage called Ormuz and a high priest of Iuz known as Patch. They went forth to bring wrack and ruin to all who opposed them, and to bring a dwarf named Obmi to stand before their master.

Gord heard the welling sound of their approach before any of the others did. He knew what was occurring, but he was powerless to do anything about it. Keak himself was alertly on watch, and the young thief knew that he would never be able to slay the elf without the magic-user alerting the others. Gord would have no chance against Obmi and the elf and the two humans who served them. To attempt anything would be to throw his life away, so Gord did what he thought best.

"Lord Keak, I hear the sounds of a vast company approaching!" he called softly, sitting erect as he did so. "Shall I alert the others to arm themselves and escape southward?"

"Stand fast!" Keak ordered, and he cocked his large, pointed ear toward the north, straining visibly to hear the faint sounds. After a time he turned and gazed at the man who had so recently joined the service of the dwarf. "You have keen ears, too, do you? I'd say you are altogether too keen, and too ready to turn southward toward the enemy!" The skinny elf cackled at what he had just said, then went near to where Obmi slept under a thick quilt. "Lord, I hear the sounds of an approaching force," he said softly.

"What's that? What force? From where does it come? Witless elf, tell me quickly! I hear nothing at all!"

"It is, I believe, a reception party for your Great Person, Lord, for it approaches boldly down the road from the north — from Our Lord's own lands, from Iuz!"

"Shit and slobbering slimes!" Obmi cursed under his breath as he sprang from his resting place. "Don't just stand there stupidly, you doddering fool! Help me prepare myself for this group that comes! Everything must be just so, or I'll never forgive you!"

Such fussiness nearly made Gord snicker. Were this not the conjunction of the most vile and malicious creatures imaginable, the circumstances of the meeting would indeed be ludicrously funny. A journey of hundreds of leagues, with the fate of the entire Oerth — and more — at stake, and the instrument of it all worries about minor appearances in the middle of a howling wilderness! Gord shook his head in wonder at the whimsical fate that allowed all of this to transpire, for he too was but a pawn in a game whose scope he could not comprehend. "What meaning," he wondered, "and what true understanding, would I have were I of the stature of Iuz, Graz'zt, or any of the even greater figures in this struggle?" Unable and unwilling to consider the whole implication of this, Gord did what he could.

"With your permission, Lord Obmi," he said, "I will ride ahead and bring the approaching Host of Iuz to you, announcing you to those who come to receive you properly."

The dwarf thought about this proposal for only a moment. "Yes. That is mete. You have my permission to go forth as herald."

In a minute Gord had his horse saddled, and he swung up onto its back without a glance back at the frantic activity of Obmi and Keak. As he rode, the young thief wondered what he should do. It would be simple enough to just melt into the forest and be safe. This was not what he wished, though. If there was any chance for him to foil the plans of Iuz, Gord would take the risk and pay the ultimate price if need be. Was there such a chance? He had to try. Shoulders squared, back straight, Gord rode on up the path to play the role of herald of "Lord Obmi" for the oncoming horde of despicable creatures commanded by who knew what sort of disgusting servants of the demon bastard Iuz.

The sounds of the marching army were now clearly audible to the deafest ear. Gord halted his horse and called as loudly as he could, his tone filled with confidence that he did not feel. "Hail the advance! The Herald of Lord Obmi demands immediate audience with the commander of this force!"

The words were hardly out of his mouth before he was surrounded by a pack of humanoid outrunners. This scum conveyed him rapidly northward past the advance guard of the horde. Somewhere along the route the lowly xvarts and gnolls were replaced by trolls and human servants who cried out, "Make way for the Herald of Lord Obmi!" and the throng of mongrels and hateful humanoids parted as if by magic for Gord to ride through unmolested.

"Your name, Herald?" an authoritarian voice demanded in bass tone.

"Stoat, Herald of the dreaded dwarf Lord Obmi, the faithful servant of the Lord of Ancient Evil, Iuz!" Gord replied in his best formal manner.

"Hail, Herald of the dwarf Obmi. You are come to the Host of Iuz. I am its general, Ormuz, and you may report all to me. Where is Obmi? And does he carry the object which Our Master desires?"

"I am your servant to command, General Ormuz of the Host of Iuz," Gord intoned formally in reply, trusting that no absolute ritual was prescribed for such a meeting. "The Lord Obmi is but a short way south of here, awaiting the meeting with you. He is carrying… the object, I believe."

"Believe? You are Obmi's own herald, and you do not know with certainty if the object of all… this is borne with your lord?"

"My post is new, Lord General Ormuz, and my Lord Obmi is most careful. Details are better left to such ones as you and he."

"This is well said, Herald Stoat — I think I concur with Obmi's selection of you for the role, even though it be but a recent appointment. After this whole affair is concluded, come to me and we will discuss possibilities of service." So saying, the hooded and cloaked Ormuz dismissed Gord and rode past.

Ignored, Gord simply turned his horse and rode with the procession of underlings that followed the leader of the host. He was surprised when the procession he was now part of turned to the west, veering away from Obmi's camp a mile or two to the southeast. A dark woman in rusty-red clerical robes riding beside him spoke to Gord.

"No wonder Lord Ormuz was so pleased with your unexpected arrival," she said. "We are near the Gathering Place, and now Obmi can report to us while Lord Ormuz sits in proper state!"

Gord simply murmured a noncommittal reply and rode on. Perhaps a few hundred advance guards and scouts preceded, the head of the horde. They not only made certain that no enemy was lurking nearby, but cleared the way and now fired great torches to light the path. Flankers likewise chopped at brush and kept the column in some semblance of order. The whole of the force must stretch for miles northward. The forest pathway was narrow. Three horsemen or possibly four could ride abreast along its narrowest parts.. Gord could not calculate how long the tail of this army must be, but it made his head reel to think of it. Their way had been overgrown with scrub, but the advance had cleared it easily enough. The trail was wider here, and it was growing broader all the while. They had entered the neck of a funnel and were now moving toward its mouth, he analogized. The flaring torches illuminated a large area of grassland ahead.

"Lady cleric," Gord said, leaning close to the dark woman, "I must take my leave now, for Lord Obmi must be informed of where he is expected to meet Lord Ormuz. Is there some password I must use to ride back to the east and south?"

Having overheard the words of Lord Ormuz regarding this fellow's future with the archmage, the woman was eager to make him her friend. "Sir Herald, I am the Priestess Leilah. You may call upon me anytime," she said, and she shot Gord a seductive smile that conveyed the meaning she had more in mind than information or social pleasantries. "The utterance of Lord Ormuz' name is sufficient to pass through the lines, but perhaps you should have this as well," Leilah said as she took a large pin from her cloak and handed it to Gord.

He saw it was a bronze device enameled in the colors of Iuz — black, white and red. A circle confined a triangle which, in turn, bore a reversed pentagram. The circle was a black snake biting its own tail. Its field was white, as was the pentagram inside the red field of the triangle. "My thanks, priestess. You may likewise call upon Herald Stoat," Gord said, and he sent her a glance that promised much. Then he turned his steed and began to work his way back against the press of the throng.

Gord said nothing until he neared the narrow entry to the area Leilah had identified as the "Gathering Place." He supposed it was a rallying point for assembly of forces to raid and make war. They must be nearer to the realm of Iuz than he had thought. The neck was crowded with troops marching into the area. The unit entering happened to be a well-disciplined company of xvarts, little humanoids with big heads and bluish skin. These were evidently the baggage train escorts, for Gord could see carts and pack animals along the trail behind them. Reining his horse to the right as far as possible, he began to ride by the little humanoids, shouting "Make way for the Herald of Lord Obmi!" repeatedly at the top of his voice.

The xvarts were unwilling to allow him to pass, but the warning, the badge he showed in his left hand, and the size of his horse intimidated the evil-looking creatures sufficiently for them to give a grudging path along the left shoulder of their column. Clucking his mount to a trot, Gord managed to clear the bottleneck just before the mass of baggage clogged it fast. It would take nearly an hour before it was past and the next unit of troops entered. At this rate, it would be noon before the whole force was settled in the open space. This offered hope!

Several ogres blocked the pathway about a bowshot's distance from the turning he had just negotiated. "Make way for the Herald of Lord Obmi, passing by authority of Lord Ormuz," Gord bellowed in his best voice. All but one of the eight-foot-tall humanoids got out of the path, but the largest hulked in the center of the way, unmoving.

"Where ya goin'?" the creature demanded.

"On official duty by leave of Lord Ormuz," Gord replied with as much disdain in his tone as he could, and he thrust out the badge given him by Leilah. "Out of my way!"

Scratching its louse-infested mop of lank, greasy hair, the nearest giant shuffled aside reluctantly, and Gord rode quickly past him, going southward to bring the news to the dwarf of what was transpiring.

Obmi flew into a terrible rage at Gord's report. The dwarf was being upstaged and denigrated by the archmage, and Obmi's fury extended to the one who informed him of this fact. Keak was delighted at the tirade, but for once his demented brain worked to Gord's favor.

"Lord, you are justly wroth," the elf managed to tell Obmi as the dwarf was drawing breath for a fresh string of oaths. "But Stoat is the one who has brought you information which will allow us to slap Ormuz with his own gauntlet!"

"What mean you, Keak?" the livid dwarf replied, withholding his ire as Keak explained his thought..

"Ormuz thinks to prepare a spectacle where he will be richly dressed and enthroned amidst his host, while we come to him like beggars, hats in hand, to report your success. He will then demand custody of the… item you have so cleverly gained and brought to Iuz's very doorstep. He will claim that it will be safer in his care, for Stoat says that there are thousands in the army he commands."

"I know all that," Obmi spat, "and that is why my bile flows so strongly, fool! Is there meaning in your babble, or are you flapping those skinny elvish lips to hear them clap together?"

Keak managed a small giggle at that, but his eyes were hard. He looked down, composed himself, and said, "My Lord, I have a point indeed. Ormuz in his overweening pride and pomp has neglected to send any message to you. Stoat came on his own to tell you of what was happening, although he was not quick-witted enough to see the potential to disgrace your enemy and turn the tables on him!"

Obmi's face became calmer, and a light of keen interest sprang into his small, steel-colored eyes. "Well, Keak, you have the plan — out with it!"

"Ignore Ormuz and his mass of troops entirely, lord. If we ride now, we can be past before daylight comes. Leave that fool sitting with his entourage while you carry the prize into Dorakaa alone!"

"Yes!" said Obmi, understanding instantly. "The puffed-up fool will think to leave me cooling my heels until he is prepared. Ormuz thinks to sit in state to receive me, as liege does vassal. If I came before his call, he would simply keep me in some corner until he decided the time was right for his show of power. He thinks to win either way, and I, Obmi the Great, will demonstrate otherwise! We leave now — get on your horses, you slugs!"

"Your cleverness is truly astounding, lord," Keak remarked dryly.

"Isn't it!" the dwarf concurred without questioning the statement. "Stoat, you will precede us to clear a path. When we are at the entry to the Gathering Place, you will go there and say no word of me — none! Your duty will then be concluded, and you will be able to count on my favor thereafter should you remain silent."

"As you wish, Lord Obmi," Gord replied with a sinking heart.

Just as they came opposite the mass of humanoids slogging into the way that opened onto the vale where Lord Ormuz was preparing his reception to humiliate Obmi, there was a great commotion. Drums thundered in the Gathering Place, and horns brayed and bellowed brazen tones. There were shouts and cries of command, and the disorderly troop of gnolls slouching their way westward suddenly swung into a fast trot amid snarls and barking calls.

"The alarum is raised!" Obmi said with a tone of wonderment. "And all seem concerned with something within the place. What think you, Keak?"

"That we should ride like thunder to the north!" the elf cackled. "Demons be praised, our luck is getting better and better!"

"Then let us go!" shouted the dwarf. "Stoat, be off with you!"

"Wait! You can't leave now!" Gord commanded the dwarf, trying to think of some reason to delay the departure of the two who bore the precious Second Key.

Obmi's face was a mask of anger, but Keak interposed himself. "I will take care of this one, lord," he said with a menacing laugh that bespoke tomes of insane malice, and as he uttered the terrible cackling the elf reached inside his robes and began to make jerking passes with his hands.

Gord could think of nothing to do but attack. He had his sword unsheathed in a flash, while the dagger seemed to spring into his gloved left hand. Guiding his mount with knee pressure, the desperate young adventurer closed to strike at the vile dwarf, but the elven spell-caster was in the way. Gord's blow struck Keak but lightly, for the horse he rode was prancing nervously and carried him away from the blade even as it darted forth. There was a slim line that oozed blood across the elf's narrow forehead.

"Bastardling man!" Keak screamed at Gord in a voice mixed with pain and fury. That he had dared to attack him was bad enough, but worse still was the effect of the slight cut. The elven mage had begun a casting, and the sudden pain of the wound on his forehead had spoiled the dweomer. "Now, you feeble fart, I shall give you no mercy!"

Gord ducked low in his saddle, urged his horse ahead, and sent an attack directly at Keak. Obmi was cursing, and his hammer seemed to roar as it passed over Gord's head, ruffling his dark hair. Had Gord not suddenly crouched, the weapon would have struck him full on! His slashing blow struck the elf solidly this time, and the spell-binder gasped in real pain at that. Gord heard the loud whirling of the hammer as it flew back to its wielder's hand. He suddenly realized that dark figures raced past the little drama without bothering to notice what was happening. The call to battle was sounding, and there was no time to spare for a minor roadside dispute.

A string of glowing darts leaped from Keak's outstretched hand, and their impact brought terrible pain to Gord's chest. The rush of agony did not prevent his own attack, however, and the razorlike edge of his shortsword nearly severed the elf s rigid arm. Keak shrieked in pain at this wound, and Gord managed to get close and deliver a double attack with dagger and sword before the mage could cast another spell upon him. Both blades sank home, and the elf reeled in his saddle. Obmi was cursing nearby, but the dwarf was unable to cast his enchanted hammer into the confused melee for fear of hitting Keak.

Flames gushed from Keak's fingertips, searing both Gord and his horse with their licking tongues. The animal screamed and reared, throwing the young thief from its back. Gord tried desperately to hold on, but all he managed to do was pull the spear from its lashings as he fell. This slowed his tumble, and allowed him to land on his feet holding the spear. Sword and dagger were somewhere on the ground. The burned horse was gone into the woods, crashing and blundering its way from the torment it had just suffered. Obmi's whirling hammer struck Gord on the shoulder and sent him lurching toward Keak, who was readying a fresh spell.

Without considering it, Gord stabbed with the long-bladed weapon, managing to put the point well into the elfs thigh. Then he withdrew the spear quickly, threw it flit at the dwarf, and bent to retrieve his sword and poniard from where they had fallen, for the cat's vision he now had enabled him to see both weapons clearly.

The spear flew true, striking Obmi in the chest as he was extending his arm to receive the returning hammer. The metal of his armor saved him, for the steel of the spear's head barely pierced his flesh. The blow caused him to drop the hammer, though, and the dwarf was forced to clamber down from his saddle to recover his prized weapon. As an afterthought Obmi flung the spear toward his adversary, but it went harmlessly past Gord and struck a tree bole.

To prevent the elven spell-caster from his magical work, Gord slapped the flat of his sword blade across the elfs horse with all the force he could. The animal leaped and bucked, kicking wildly when the blow fell, and Keak pitched from its back, just as Gord had been dismounted but a moment previously.

By this time the dwarf had managed to pick up his hammer and climb back atop his horse, and Gord had to dive to avoid taking another blow from the flying weapon. Gord continued the leap as a series of rolls, flipped to his feet, and struck a blow at the elf as he regained his feet. The blade cut through the robe Keak wore and seared the flesh of his skinny body as it passed, but it was no mortal wound. Gord mentally thanked his patron deities for Obmi's decision to leave his other two guards behind as unnecessary encumbrances to his plan. Had those two been here now, the young thief knew, he would have been dead. As it was, things were looking very desperate.

Keak was babbling rapid, unintelligible syllables now, while Obmi kept Gord busy ducking his hurled hammer. Gord decided to try to finish Keak and then see what the dwarf could do one-on-one. He sprang close and thrust both blades full into the thin body of the elf just as Keak was loosing his fell dweomer at his adversary. Keak managed a startled squawk, then lunged limply, suspended from the blades that passed through heart and liver.

Gord made no sound at all, for he and his weapons had been turned to gray stone.

"So much for both of you, then," the dwarf hissed, looking upon the strange tableau with some surprise. "Who would have thought a man such as that one could have done for a mage of your power, Keak?" he mused. "Have you no cackle for me, elf? No, I suppose not, for your foul spirit must be screaming its way to the Abyss even as your dead ears fail to hear my words… But you haven't failed me, Keak! You, and Stoat too, have served me well. My thanks, Stoat, for ridding me of this one who always schemed to usurp me. Keak, you have rid me of one who was bent on my downfall, of that I am sure. Now I leave you, and may you rot for eternity in torment!" So saying, Obmi rode away to the north once again, mimicking the dead elfs maniacal cackling for a time as he went.