Come Endless Darkness

Chapter 3

"This is most unexpected…."

Gord spoke those words softly, and it was an understatement. A moment or two before, he had been in an undersea grotto with the undine Kharistylla. She had told him it was time. Time for what?" he had asked. Then, following her instructions, he had simply touched the amulet while thinking of Rexfelis the Catlord.

The beautiful undersea grotto and the even lovelier undine had suddenly wavered, become insubstantial, and for an instant Kharistylla's smiling eyes had seemed to become as large as saucers just before she vanished from his sight. Gord spoke, blinked, and shook his head, because he now stood before the assembled lords of Balance.

"He is changed," Basiliv the Demiurge said to no one in particular. Then, to Gord: "Welcome, prince. Leoceanius said we should expect you about now, and so here we stand gathered."

A murmur rose up from several of those in Rexfelis's private chamber. Of the score of powerful personages there, perhaps seven or eight had met and spoken with the young adventurer in the past. Among them were the Master Cat, of course; the Demiurge Basiliv, the archwizards Mordenkainen and Tenser and the King of Shadow.

"I present Gord," Rexfelis said formally, coming to the young man's aid. "Some of you have been introduced to the Prince of Panthers before this." Then he made introductions of some of those present whom the young adventurer had not met. "My Lords of the Cabal," he began, nodding to indicate four strange no-longer-humans near the back of the chamber. Then, sweeping his gaze and his arm slowly around the room, he named others. "Gord, this is the Master of Swords — perhaps a foster sire of yours, I think. Here is Lord Hewd, Lord Donal, Murlon, Lord Keogh, Venerable Yocasta, Venerable Nastan. And here is the Active Hand of Dweomer, the Archimage, of course, for the highest of magic never himself interferes…."

Demi-gods, quasi-deities, the most powerful of humans. Somehow, Kharistylla had found out exactly when he was supposed to make his appearance, and Leoceanius had played a role he was unaware of. The whole experience was simply too much for Gord to comprehend. "I… I… What is the problem? Am I being judged?" he blurted out.

"Droll fellow," the quasi-deity known as Lord Keogh drawled with barely suppressed mirth. "If that were the case, the whole lot of us would have to stand beside you."

"Yet, not a bad idea that," suggested the Mad One of Magic. "Let's round up those demi-humans — the elves, dwarves, gnomes, that whole lot — and stand trial together!"

"There's no point trying to find that bunch," Lord Hewd said, tugging absently at his little beard. "They're all off fighting against demons and devils, you know."

Shadowking raised a dark eyebrow at that exchange, and Rexfelis seemed about to interject something, but the four Hierophants of the Cabal spoke in unison. "Enough, sirs!" they said. Then one of them continued. This young prince is true and truly puzzled. Let us deal with matters at hand in a fashion likely to produce results, ere we find ourselves grappling with fiends from the nether regions ourselves!"

Thank you, my lords," Gord said to the Hierophants after an audible swallow of relief. "I have had to face demons and devils before, and I think even this assemblage is preferable to that."

Too bad, too bad," caroled the Mad Archimage. "We're here to see that you do just that!"

At that the Catlord took a hand. "I apologize, Prince Gord," he said formally. Then he took the young man by his arm and steered him to a nearby chair. Rexfelis pushed Gord down, seated himself in the next tall chair, and waved casually to the others to take their positions. "Let us all take our places, and I shall explain to our champion what is to take place. Agreed?"

There were various spoken and unspoken assents, and in a moment or two the whole strange assembly, the gathering that included the majority of the powers who represented Balance, was seated in a semicircle in the large, low-ceilinged chamber. Thank you all, lords and ladies," Rexfelis intoned. "Hear what I have to tell to Gord of Greyhawk, acknowledged by me and you all as a peer, titled the Prince of Panthers by birthright and by virtue of accomplishment such that none may question."

"Hear, hear!"

"Get on with it!"

Gord was now more confused than before, and at the same time a bit excited. What was this about "birthright"? Perhaps, for some reason he could not fathom, he was finally about to learn of his heritage. But he and Rexfelis had spent long hours together before this, and surely the Catlord had already told him all there was to tell. Gord held his tongue, but his mind reeled. He dared not hope, but could not keep from doing so….

The Catlord gave cold looks to both who had spoken, first Basiliv and second the crotchety old Mordenkainen. He cleared his throat with a sound that was a cross between a purr and a growl, then continued. "As you know, Gord has served the cause of Balance for longer than he has realized, but actively and most willingly of late. In recognition and explanation of his services, I have acknowledged his heritage to some of you. I now tell this to the rest of you, and Gord himself, for the first time: His father, my own great-grandson, was the sole heir of my kind's Seventh House. By birthright and his own deeds he has fully earned that heirship… and more. That is another story, however. I will stick with the business our council has before it."

At that point Gord could no longer contain himself. "You've known all along?" he asked, anger overriding the excitement he felt.

Rexfelis showed little emotion, but his huge, dark eyes had a tinge of sadness as he replied. "Yes, Gord, I have known all along. I do not ask your forgiveness, for there is nothing to forgive. Perhaps you'll understand when you know more, perhaps not. Too many sought you — too many of such deadly power and fell purpose that not even all of us here, let alone simply me, could keep them from you had they fully understood just who and what you were… or are, rather."

"Just what is that?" Gord's voice was calm, but an inner glow coming from his gaze bespoke his rage and sadness at being kept uninformed for so long.

"The one foretold… the one foreordained to light the final battle."

The Catlord's last words curtailed Gord's rising fury, stopped it cold. "I am fated to fight… the final battle?" he asked.

"No, no, Rexfelis," the ancient priest, Nastan, said loudly in his cracked voice. "Not any of us can so order. We are mere predictors — searchers for clues is a better term, perhaps."

"Well, I don't care who ordered it, actually," Gord said harshly. "I have some say. And why this damned secrecy? If this has been foreordained, then who or what could prevent it? Why not tell all?"

Rexfelis spoke again. "Not so fast. What is foretold is this: Should you attain your maturity, manage to survive and not be polluted by evil, or made narrow by some rigid conceit, then you would be the one to bear the banner for us."

Gord started to open his mouth, but the Catlord silenced him with a stern look. "Mind you, prince, that I speak of no guarantees. Attend my words; let your ears hear. You alone can fight for us. None of those who espouse Law or Chaos must be allowed to prevail. Balance is the force that has a champion, one to carry the contest to Unrelenting Darkness.

"That much alone is foretold — the outcome of the battle is not prescribed. No hint is even given. Yet, your even being able to contest with the great enemy was sufficient to make the vile ones quail. You had to be protected — and kept ignorant so as not to reveal some clue unwittingly — until we could reveal this knowledge to you."

The years in miserable suffering, the horrors of that bastard Theobald and beggary, the whole course of my life…"

"Necessary — and generally secretly assisted for the better by our agents, or simply directed by your own mind, Gord. In fact, what you did, what you accomplished, what you are — all of that is your own doing."

"And just what does all of this mean?"

"Who can say? Not even the best of us is so great as to venture into such suppositions. Yet, prince, I think you yourself know the answer well enough. You see all sides of the question, judge, and act. Each year you grow, your perspective heightens, and the change is evident. You perceive the great conflict which now embroils all. It is a deadly game which will decide the fate of your world and ours too, whether of material sort or not."

Gord shook his head in denial. That is no game, and I am no pawn in it."

To some it is a game," Basiliv the Demiurge said gently. "It is a helpful analogy to use, though. The ones we contest with, even those we seek to aid, see it as such, you know."

"How can this be called a game? Lives being played with, lost…. It is monstrous!"

There is a prize at stake, Gord," Basiliv said in reply to the heated denial. "It is a contest. You have played the game of life and death often enough yourself, I think."

"It was for survival, and against those who knew full well the consequences of loss. Each was an able and skilled opponent, and I took only the lives of those who needed to die," Gord countered with less anger but iron determination filling his voice.

"Most arrogant and Judgmental!" This came in unison from the four who were the head of the Cabal, the strange Hierophants. "We object to your attitude, Gord. If you do not dismiss such thinking from yourself immediately, you will be an unfit champion." Though the four spoke at one time, they were of one mind and one voice so utterly that the words came from each of them simultaneously. The effect was eerie and rather unsettling, but Gord would not be dissuaded.

"I am not champion. I have no wish to play this game! Let the hells, the demons, all of you find some other pawn to push around!" Gord was ready to rise and leave, although he didn't know where he would go or what the reactions of these mighty ones of Balance would be when he tried to evacuate. At this juncture he no longer cared. It was just too much for a mortal spirit to bear.

Rexfelis stopped him, smiling gently. "You are right. You need not be a pawn. Do not 'play.' Those who seek evil, death, misery, enslavement for all who do not serve them willingly will gloat and be filled with glee at your decision, Gord. They have long sought to eliminate you from the contest. Your quitting will serve almost as well as your death, I think."

That made Gord sink back down and stare at the Catlord. "Better, better," Rexfelis said softly. "Long have you played unwittingly, without our direction, although our other active forces in the game supported you when they could. Then you took part at the direction of Balance, but without full knowledge of what was involved. Even should you choose to leave now, Gord, I think that too would simply be part of the play. You, like us, cannot escape by simply wishing to."

Gord could do little but shrug. "Then I am no champion at all. I am a piece which wanders aimlessly about, doing nothing of significance and unable to direct my course. Let one of you powerful beings serve as the banner-bearer. Who amongst you all is not more puissant than I?"

"Fairly put, young Gord," a slow and heavy voice said. All in the chamber were completely still at the sound, and Gord looked over to the place where the words had come from. "Yet there is a bit of each of us to go with you, and then you will be both less and more than any of us," the being continued.

That meant nothing to him, but Gord was unsettled by what he saw. Nothingness and yet something occupied a place in the hall, and none of the other occupants of the place were near the space. "I am at a disadvantage… Lord of… Nothingness? I cannot see you, nor do I know your title or realm."

"I am All and Nothing, prince. You were not far from the mark. It is sufficient to say that in my own limited way I am part of Balance in that I contest with life and death, chaos and order. Normally I would not take part in any struggle, for in the end I will triumph over all that way.

"However," the measured, plodding voice spoke on, "the advent of Tharizdun has forced me to assist the Lords of Neutrality. Thus a portion of my essence will be yours to call upon, should you step forward and serve willingly."

Advent? So the terrible force of total evil was advancing. That knowledge had a great effect upon the young thief, and Gord forgot to ask just what the so-called 'All and Nothing' was. Instead he turned to the Master of All Cats. "Explain more of this to me, please," he asked simply, settling back in his chair for the first time since he had been thrust into this assemblage.

Rexfelis proceeded to tell him about the emerging struggle that put Balance into so exposed a position in the very center of all. With occasional interjections from the great personages and virtual deities in the chamber, the Catlord related how he and the others had sought to confound the machinations of devils and demons without recourse to a particular champion. Although they, as the sovereigns of Neutrality, knew that there was a prophecy regarding such a singular figure, even they could not be certain, so they had played on while keeping careful guard over the one who might one day be needed — by all the multiverse, not just by Balance. Gord's parents had been, together, a minor force in the game, and they had been betrayed into vulnerability by pieces of their own color. Sadly, they had been eliminated and yet thus fulfilled a part of the foretelling, for behind them remained a tiny spark of potential.

"Amidst the webs of magic and energy, Gord, even that mote could have been discerned by our foes — your foes, of course, as well as ours," said Rexfelis. "Alone we could not have hidden your spark of possibility, but still the evil ones could not seem to locate you. Another hand was involved."

After a few questions, the narration continued as before. Rexfelis and Lord Donal spoke of how they had seen Gord become an able young beggar and thief, occasionally protected, always observed, but never interfered with. "When you left the city, prince, and set off with the Rhennee, you suddenly entered the field as a pawn," Lord Donal noted. "You were not played — you placed yourself upon the board!"

After noting that Gord's successes, as well as his failures, not only moved him around the area of the contest but also made his relative strength change, just as an advancing pawn becomes more threatening to the opposing force, Rexfelis explained that Gord himself promoted his worth to above that of a mere foot soldier. "By continually winning over evil adversaries, and by not just staying well away from their influence but becoming more and more firmly convinced to uphold your ever-strengthening beliefs in freedom and choice, you grew from an inconsequential if well-placed pawn into a multi-powered piece."

Shadowking and the Demiurge added their own comments then, and Gord was amazed still more. He turned to the person introduced to him earlier as the Master of Swords. "Blademaster, you assisted me?"

"Even so skilled a thief as you, one whose gymnastic feats are of the highest sort, does not acquire weapons skill — or such weapons as you have possessed, Gord, without a bit of help, shall we say," the Master of Swords confirmed in his quick manner. His thin lips smiling, the Lord of All Blades added, "And I shall do so again if you will."

Each of those present assured the young man that he had done some small thing to assist him. Then Rexfelis spoke again. "Now, Gord, you are Prince of Panthers. That acknowledged status bestows but little additional power upon you, for you are already a knight in service to Balance. As a willing champion, however, you will command those spaces adjacent to you as well; thus will you be equipped to the best of our ability to face the Ultimate Foe."

"What choice have I?" Gord said finally. "Whether willing or willy-nilly, it would seem I am fated. I have no love for our foes, no commonality with those who oppose them. Balance is my only understanding. To accept conviction of its purpose, then, is but to admit what I am."

There are shades and tints, intensity and pallor, even in the whole of Neutrality, Gord," Lord Hewd told him. "Whatever the exact ethos may be, all of us recognize that in order to have our liberty to remain as we are, and for all others to do likewise, the Ultimate Darkness must not be allowed to prevail."

"Am I not proof of the different shades and tints?" Gord asked rhetorically.

"No," said the slow voice of the nothingness that seemed to All a whole corner of the hall, "but my presence with Balance is."

Before more could be said, the four Hierophants arose and in unison placed their mark upon Gord. The sensation for him was like a burning wave washing over his body, and the young thief nearly fainted. Then each of the others there likewise gave some touch or sign as their gift. Energy shot through Gord's body, made his nerves tingle, his brain float. So much power, so many diverse agencies! He was glad Indeed to be sitting when it occurred.

"Basiliv and I will escort you from here, prince," the Catlord said when the last of the Lords of Balance had finished placing their tokens of power with him. "I have more to say, for above all my own aegis is over you. The Demiurge too has instructions."

"Now I will begin at the beginning," the Master of Cats said when the three of them were alone in a small library that served as Rexfelis's personal study. "You are the offspring of my seventh son, the ninth of my great-grandchildren to attain status above that which was theirs by birthright. With the acceptance just given by the Lords of Balance, none of my own, not any of the scions of the other houses, dare to contest you."

"What do you mean?" Gord asked. This was all too confusing still.

"Each of the Nine Houses vies for supremacy with the others. Each would have its own become king. I cannot interfere… much, anyway, else I would be no Lord of Catkind. But your own father had no such aspirations. He knew of the prophecy and above all sought to see it come true. He and your mother were the deadliest foes of Tharizdun and his servitors."

"What was my mother's name? My father's?"

"Of course. Forgive me, Gord. The pressures of this time made me remiss. Your mother was called Ataleena. She had second sight and could have been a great wizardess. She had violet eyes, you know — perhaps from her distant elvish blood. Your father was named Karal, and he loved your mother more than Just about anything in the planes. It was she who convinced him to desert the confines of this place, Gord, and to fight the enemy elsewhere. I don't think I forgave her for that until I first met you…." Rexfelis said half to himself. Then, recapturing his train of thought, he went on.

"Ataleena knew of the prophecy regarding Tharizdun's return from her mother, who had learned it from her own mother, and so on. All of those women were seeresses. Good folk. Karal named you after his wife's house. Your mother was Ataleena Carona, and your given name is Carl — was, I must say. Despite its humble origin, Gord is now your name, and one which has power. You must keep it. Does Prince Gord Carl Quapardus suit you?"

After a minute came the reply. The name Gord is what I am accustomed to. It seems sufficient."

"So it shall be for the time. I'll be brief about the rest," Rexfelis said softly. "Others of your kin betrayed both your father and mother. Too late the traitors repented. Your parents were slain by agents of evil, directed by one of its most terrible minions." When Gord's face started to darken with anger, the Catlord waved him to settle him down and hurried on. "I brought much sorrow upon those responsible, and they paid dearly, as much from their own guilt as from any punishment of mine. Not one of the perpetrators survives now," he added with sorrow for the act of betrayal, not for loss or mourning. The malign ones rejoiced at first, but then discovered that they had not fully completed their mission. Despite their best, or worst, efforts, not the greatest of devils or vilest of netherlords could quite discover whom they sought. Even now I think they do not know, but that will soon change!"

Basiliv the Demiurge spoke then. "You have been destined to become the sole one able to contest with the greatest of evil beings, Gord. While your kin squabbled over who was to become the chief heir to Rexfelis's domain, and the powers of evil hatched their plots to find and gather the Theorparts, you went about your own business. Unknown and unknowing, you were tried and tested, heated, hammered, forged, and tempered to become the weapon of all who deny evil."

There are many of Balance far stronger than I — even with what you have given to me." Gord stated this as a fact, not meaning to be argumentative.

True. Even had all of us nobles of Balance been present at the conclave, and all bestowed all the force they could upon you, still there would be others stronger than you. I do not know how to explain the state of affairs, save to say that the foretelling is what it is."

Gord gave up on that line of thought and turned back to Rexfelis. Tell me more about my father and mother," he said.

"First," said the Catlord, "the box." Gord knew immediately what Rexfelis was referring to — not his magical carry-all, but the battered wooden coffer he carried within it. Gord had been keeping it safe, either in his possession or carefully hidden somewhere in the city of Greyhawk, ever since claiming it as a child. Old Leena, the brutal, cantankerous woman who served as his guardian during his early youth, had kept the box away from him and even taunted him with her possession of it — because she had somehow known that it and its contents were meant for him instead of her. She had learned, quite accidentally, how to open it, but she had never imparted that information to Gord, and he was only able to get it away from her after she died in her bed one day.

"It is carefully dweomered," Rexfelis continued. "Speak either your mother's or your father's name while holding it, and it will open to reveal its contents." Unbeknownst to Gord, this was why old Leena had been able to open it, at least partially. Her name was quite similar to the name of Gord's real mother — and, as it turned out, there was a minor flaw in the first stage of the magical protection surrounding the box. Thus, she could get the main compartment open by saying "Leena," but because she never voiced the full word "Ataleena," she never knew of the real treasure hidden beneath the container's false bottom. "Inside you will find portraits of your parents and a history of what they had done, written in the language of catfolk. Your father even said therein that he hoped you would not fail the coming tests."

"He knew what I was to become?"

"Perhaps. The document Is not exactly clear, but It gives hints. Read it when we are done here, and then Judge for yourself." Rexfelis held up a hand to keep Gord from responding to that and added one more vital fact. "Beneath a secret panel, which is opened by saying the same name a second time, you will find a necklace containing nine black sapphires." The Cat-lord allowed himself a thin smile as he said that.

"Are they…?" Gord asked, barely able to contain his anticipation. They must be the same ones, he thought in answer to his own unvoiced question — the same ones he had risked his life to regain during his time In the Land of Shadow and then been forced to relinquish In order to leave that eerie place.

Not even Rexfelis knew the full history of these gems. They had been in the coffer when old Leena had held it, but had been magically removed from the container a few years after her death as the box lay buried In a secret place in Greyhawk. When Gord came back from one of his adventures and reclaimed the box, he had no way of knowing that its contents had been tampered with in the meantime by sorcerous forces aligned with those that had been trying to discover and destroy Gord. Fortunately for him, the box was not under magical surveillance when he returned to Greyhawk and dug it up; by that time, the search for him had gone in another direction, and the box was forgotten about, thought to be unimportant.

The sapphires were eventually set into a glorious necklace, and the piece of Jewelry was so highly treasured that it ended up as the property of a high priest of Nerull. Then it was subsequently acquired by one of the major denizens of Shadowland, a terrible lich-creature called Imprimus. It was this evil being whom Gord vanquished in order to gain the sapphires for himself. He had thought of them only occasionally since using them to gain egress from Shadowland, and had not really expected to see them again.

"Yes, the sapphires are back inside the coffer, Gord, as you will see when you examine the box. The necklace which they are again formed into is your badge of royalty, bequeathed to you by your father. It proclaims its wearer as the Prince of the Ninth House, the Prince of Panthers. The sapphires have traveled far and wide over the years, but they have really always been your property — yours to keep, yours to use some day."

Rexfelis paused, but Gord was at a loss for what to say. He had taken in so much information so rapidly that he simply did not know how to comment or what to ask. He did not understand how the gems could have been placed inside the box without his knowledge, but he had long known that the workings of magic were beyond his ability or his desire to comprehend. Then the Catlord continued, seemingly anxious to disclose the rest of what he cared to reveal.

The ring I gave you was also left to you by your father. Karal himself would have kept it, I think, had he been sure of surviving long enough to see you wear it. There is a little more I can tell, but this is not the time. Suffice to say that regardless of other events, the Ninth House will attain the rule of all the feline kingdom if you survive, Gord. In fact, I would abdicate to you at this moment, save that it would avail neither of us anything. Destiny has removed much from our hands."

The Demiurge took over at this point, for it seemed difficult for the Catlord to continue. "We lords of Neutrality are in a poor position, you see, and in comparison to those who surround us we are quite weak. The rulers of the hells alone outnumber us ten to one, and few of us are stronger than the greatest of those dukes. What you saw at the gathering represents barely half of those with enough power to have a hand in charting the course of Balance. Some others are bound to their own elements and see naught but the eternity of that. A few contest with the upper planes, some others fend off total order or wild randomness as needs be. Some are fully engaged in the physical struggle against the forces of the Abyss or Hades or the hells' legions. And some are… gone." Basiliv looked at Gord briefly, then continued. "If all of the Lords of Balance took the field, that would free a far greater number of our opponents to contest against our presence. That would spell our doom. If your grandfather-"

"That is properly great-grandfather," Rexfelis harrumphed in interjection.

"If your great-grandfather, or I, or some other should try alone, then the evil ones would know immediately and send two or more of their own mightiest ones to stop us. There is no other way save what we have told you. You are unknown now, your sudden increase in power unsuspected by the enemy. And you play chess well, I hear."

"I play several sorts of chess fairly well." Gord acknowledged, "and at many forms of the game too." Those last words were delivered with a sidelong glance toward Rexfelis, as Gord recalled the times the Catlord had bested him in one or another obscure forms of the game.

"Yes, just so," the Demiurge said with a smile. "You understand that the value of a piece is in its power of movement and area of command. In this so-called game, though, we must also deal with the fact that not every piece can exert pressure upon any opposing contestant. A pawn is powerless against a minor piece, a minor piece of no use against a greater piece.

"In this play there are many grades of pawns, levels of minor pieces, and ranks of major ones. Unless near-parity exists, the lesser cannot prevail against the greater, and the more powerful will usually succeed in slaying the weaker. Time and again you have done for one or other of the evil pieces — humans, monsters, demons. Still, the enemy cannot reckon properly what you are. When you move into the main field again as the champion sent by Balance, none will recognize your true powers until too late — we hope! If that is so, then you will become the second most powerful figure in the multiverse."

The second?"

"Tharizdun is the first," Basiliv said heavily.

"And I must then seek out that one?"

"If you attain to the second station, Prince Gord," the Demiurge assured him, "you will have no need to seek out the Absolute Darkness. He will find you."

"How can I hope to succeed?" The young man looked from Catlord to the Demiurge questioningly.

"The Master of Nothingness and All has sided with us," Basiliv stated after hesitating. "That one is perhaps now the second-greatest force in the multiverse, but you must always beware such a being, just as one watches the scorpion."

"Why be so enigmatic about him or it? I must have information!"

"No more can be said," Basiliv replied. "You will know in time, if that is given to any of us. If I speak too much, I might distort the foretelling."

"Nonsense!" It was evident from his expression that Rexfelis disagreed with Basiliv's last statements, but it had not been the Catlord who had spoken just now. The voice had come from a shadowy corner.

"Shadowking?" Gord asked uncertainly.

"No," the slow and icy voice answered from yet another location in the chamber. "Master Entropy — at your service, prince and champion."

That made Gord start. "You are of ultimate chaos!"

"Never. I will consume the wild motion, eliminate randomness as I do order, wipe out death by removing life, burn out life and slay darkness into nothing. I am truly neutral, the actual balance of all. I am nothingness and everything — in their proper states."

"Beware!" Rexfelis and Basiliv spoke in unison, but Gord ignored both of them.

"How will you help?" he asked the unseen figure.

"My aid comes now in the form of information. One of your most important tools is a sword. Many of your fine associates will appreciate the weapon and its forms. You have it now, the dark blade you brought from the buried capital of the forgotten realm of the Suloise."

"I own it indeed," Gord admitted, "but it is of no special value."

"More than you suppose," the nothingness countered. "Still, the sword is not all it can be, on that point I agree." Was there mockery in the voice? Gord wasn't certain.

"You will assist me in making it truly potent?"

"I have already, by giving you this knowledge. This has been most painful, prince and champion, for it defies all I stand for and drains my particular force cruelly," Master Entropy Intoned monotonously, as if speaking to a slow and measured beat. "There is no more I shall say, no more I can do. Now. Gord, all is in your hands."

With that, the presence of the strange being faded away. Basiliv and Rexfelis, seeming to take their cues from that occurrence, silently rose from their seats. Gord did the same, and moments later was alone in his chamber.

* * *

Elsewhere, elsewhen, the tides of evil weakened in their surge, and the men of the kingdoms and nations of Oerth who opposed the dark and wicked pushed their enemies back a little, slaughtering many in so doing. Stalemate positions occurred in the netherworld, and the great war being fought in the Abyss raged, but neither side advanced.

Master Entropy was at work. Creation and life — vitality even of demoniacal or negative sort — slipped away into nothingness. Nothingness grew and was strengthened, and was content.

"We are lost," the Demiurge said lamentably when he, Rexfelis, and Gord reconvened a few hours later — hours during which weeks of time had passed on Oerth. "Now truly are we placed between the void and the bottomless pit!" Rexfelis nodded and looked grim. What Basiliv said was too true, and there seemed to be no escape. Entropy was perhaps better, if nonexistence of anything but nothingness could be accepted by those who were sentient. "Never should we have accepted Master Entropy, not in an eternity of days!"

"Lost or not. I have much to do," Gord said energetically. "Time will decide if that one is to triumph or not, but if I am to believe what I have been told, it is up to me to face and defeat Tharizdun." He spat as he said that name. "What can you tell me of the power of the sword Master Entropy spoke of?"

"I am as unaware of that as you, Gord," Rexfelis replied. "Basiliv?"

"Would I could be of assistance," the Demiurge said. "Perhaps if I could see the weapon and spend a little time examining its aura…."

There will be a bit of time for that, my old friend," Rexfelis said. "Gord will soon be presented to all of my subjects, including the peers who are his kinsfolk. There will be a short ceremony, longer speeches, and much growling of useless sort. I will name him first of all our sort after me before he sets forth on the mission we have for him."

"I will certainly stay for two reasons, then," Basiliv said, mustering up a weak smile. "Let us see the dark blade now, for soon we will be too busy for anything except such work as we need accomplished." Basiliv and the Catlord turned expectantly to Gord, both casting their gazes toward the scabbard at his waist. Gord's face was blank.

"Well? Bring forth the blade!" the Demiurge said.

"This is not it," Gord said, touching the sheath. "The sword that Master Entropy spoke of is hidden aboard Silver Seeker, and where that ship is I can't tell you," he said sadly.