Night Arrant

The Heart of Darkness

Eneever Zig looked the part of a wizard. His robe was rusty black and appliqued with signs and symbols. The girdle that bound it to his thin waist was likewise covered with glyphs and runes of odd sort. He wore a pointed hat that matched his robe down to showing crescent moons, stars, and similar depictions of celestial objects. The willowy-shaped wizard was adorned with strange jewelry befitting a great spell-worker. Brooches, amulets, pendants, bracelets, and rings were all of unusual design and unknown workmanship. These precious gems bore arcane engravings and were set with weird minerals. A pair of ritual daggers hung from the old sorcerer's dragonhide girdle, as did a metal case that looked to be about the right size to house a wand.

There was no way to determine how many years of magic the old sage had under that girdle, but if one were to venture a guess it would be wise to start with a very high number. His beard was pale gray and remarkably less bushy than his jutting brows. His eyes were a piercing pale blue, his mouth a narrow slit barely visible beneath his bristling moustache. His face was drawn and gaunt, an open confession of many years of suffering.

This picture-perfect wizard entered the tavern and slowly made his way through the crowd, his eyes darting from one face to another. He smiled inwardly as he spotted the two he sought and then quickly made his way across the room to the table they occupied. He sat down and stared at the two men seated across from him. His beard stirred and the thin lips began to open. But before he had a chance to utter a word, the barbarian staring back jumped to his feet, slammed his fist down hard on the table, and loudly exclaimed, "You must be a wizard!" The look on the massive barbarian's face resembled that of a young child seeing his first oli-phant at a menagerie.

"No, Chert, he just likes dressing up," the huge hillman's companion mumbled sarcastically. Then he stood and half-bowed in the wizard's direction. "Our pardon, good sir. My companion is somewhat awestruck by your appearance. We will leave now, begging your forgiveness for the intrusion and banal remarks." The small, leather-clad man grasped the barbarian by the arm as he spoke, trying to pull the giant to his feet. "Come on. Chert! We are annoying this gentleman!" Gord said, still trying to budge his uncooperative friend.

"Hey! Let go of my arm! This is the first wizard i’ve ever seen up close!" the big hillman bellowed without taking his wondering gaze from the figure seated across the worn table.

By this time the other patrons of the Bird in Hand were beginning to stare. The barbarian was so wrapped up in the unusual sight seated across from him that he was oblivious to the attention he was receiving. His companion, however, was not. The slender young thief continued trying to hoist the six-foot-six mountain of muscle from the seat to which he seemed to be glued at the moment.

Throughout this whole episode Eneever Zig remained silent, his eyes betraying no hint of emo-tion, as he stared at the bumbling barbarian and his embarrassed friend.

The hillman hunkered down farther into his seat, resisting the attempt at making him stand. Chin thrust into hands, elbows firmly planted on the worn table, he continued to stare at the gray-bearded man across from him as he shouted. "Get away, Gord!"

"Yes, sit down." Eneever said in a soft tone of voice that, despite its lack of volume, cut through the surrounding noise with a sharp-edged ring demanding obedience. Startled, Gord let loose his hold on the barbarian and slid back onto the bench.

"I am Eneever Zig," the pointy-capped man said to the two. "You are right, barbarian. I am a wizard. And you are Gord and Chert The descriptions I was given match well." The last sentence was uttered in the same, even tone as those spoken before it, but there was a somewhat bemused quality accompanying it.

"Hey! How does a wizard know my name?" Chert sat up straight and scratched his head in a confused, rapid motion.

Gord was puzzled too, but for entirely different reasons. The young thief eyed the spell-caster differently now. trying to discern the man's motives and designs. "Descriptions can err," Gord said, trying unsuccessfully to stare down the wizard. When the spell-caster continued to return his steady gaze without so much as batting a single eye, Gord sat back in an attempt to at least appear to be at ease. "Men can bear the same name. Who do you seek?" he asked casualty.

"A pair of able assistants to accompany me on a dangerous quest."

"That's us!" Chert said, his head bobbing up and down in ridiculous fashion. Gord shot his careless-tongued friend a quick, threatening look. "Shut up. Chert! This is no casual encounter," he warned through clenched teeth.

"Well put, young man," Eneever Zig said, his eyes twinkling with something akin to mirth. "I am not offended by your intrusion, barbarian, nor your unseemly words, thief, because I am in this tavern seeking you."

"What made you think we'd be here?" Chert inquired innocently.

"When I take the time to do research, I do it well," Eneever answered, his tone beginning to take on an impatient edge.

"Why seek us out?!" Gord asked with an equal lack of tolerance, for he didnt like this situation in the least.

The wizard ignored the question and addressed the tavern's proprietor instead. "Barkeepl Bring these two whatever they wish, and be quick!" There was a flurry of activity, and then the wizard tossed a silver noble to the sweating ostler, telling him to keep the change. A small goblet of wine appeared before the black-leathered Gord, and Chert was delighted to find himself the recipient of a huge horn filled with a mixture of stout and ale. Eneever Zig nodded, looked squarely at Gord, and then finally explained: "I am a stranger to Greyhawk, but the fame of its wealth and treasures extends eastward a great way. I come from there seeking a special item, and I am in need of skilled associates to share the rewards."

"And the dangers?"

"Oh, hell! Who cares about dangers?" Chert said, punctuating his question with a loud belch.

The wizard slid his gaze from the black-garbed thief to the brawny hillman. "I quite agree," he said.

"With what? My friend's question or his crude display?" Gord asked sarcastically.

Chert shot his friend a hurt look and the wizard continued, ignoring Gord's remark. "When I came to the city, I made careful inquiries as to able men of fearless disposition who might be a part of a bold undertaking. Your name was foremost amongst those mentioned to me. Chert."

"You know it! I’m the one to handle tough opposition," Chert said proudly, his great chest expanding and a grin appearing on his face as he spoke. Then he leaned over the table and said in a no-nonsense tone, "But unless we get our fair share of the spoils, neither of us are interested!"

"Money is not of interest to me," Eneever Zig said to Chert with a wave of dismissal. "I spent close to a thousand zees just locating you two. This mission is sure to bring a wealth of gold, gems, and other riches as well. You and your associate are welcome to all such stuff. I seek but one thing; gaining it, I am satisfied, and all else is yours."

Gord was not pleased. "Why us? There are scores of capable adventurers in Greyhawk. What made you select our names?"

"Scores?" Eneever Zig countered. "More like a half-dozen of real capability and renown. I need no idling mercenaries in this venture. It is far too important to trust to weaklings and no-talent hirelings such as those who hang around the Foreign Quarter seeking employment. I mean to succeed in my quest. To assure this I am offering untold wealth in return for your fighting prowess. Chert, and such talents as you possess, Gord."

"Count us in!" Chert said, banging his fist on the oaken-planked table.

Delighted, the wizard extended his hand. "Excellent, heroic hillman! Your boldness is to be commended. Still. I note a look of uncertainty on your friend's face. I am in need of both of you, so I will take a moment to try to convince him of my honesty and sincerity in this matter. Agreed?"

"Sure, Wiz — er, Ziggie — go ahead and talk." Chert said expansively. "Only how about another round? I’m going to be doing some hard work soon, and a horn of brew is sure to make me better at it!"

The wizard signaled for another draught of the stout and ale combination and then explained his story carefully, looking at Gord and not sparing details. "I dwell near Syldartown, a place adjacent to the Ferrous Mountains on the border between the Southern Marches and the state of johied. As a worker of spells, I adhere to the teachings of Kabbak, and likewise the works of his sole disciple, Gigantos, are not unfamiliar to me. It was in the latter, and particularly in the veiled references to so-called ‘Mad Archmage’ of similar name, that I first discovered a clue to what I seek. The nature and form of the item I quest after is of no import to you. It is of magical power and, unless one is a dweomer-craefter steeped in the arcane arts, useless. In any case, learning what I did. there was but a single course open to me. Deciphering the clues given, I traveled west to Greyhawk, for in the ruins of its former master's fortress is hidden the prize I seek. Is what I say clear so far?"

"Go on." Gord told the wizard.

"It is well known that the labyrinthine dungeon, catacombs, and maze of subterranean passages beneath the ancient castle once held a conglomerate of monsters and plethora of treasure — all there at the whim of the lord archmage who ruled within. In bygone years many sought to plumb the depth of this underground for glory and riches. And why not? With the master gone, who could say them nay? it's widely known that fabulous beasts and incredible treasures were found and disposed of. Of course, the stream of adventurers bound to become wealthy or die trying was so heavy that not even the fiercest of guardians could forever prevail. Expeditions came, some succeeded, and Greyhawk City grew rich from them. Now, years later, who ventures to the ruins? Few," the wizard said in answer to his own query. "And this is no surprise. Tales told of even greater treasures deep beneath the fallen fortress were shown to be untrue. Vast, empty complexes of passages and chambers, bones, and deserted mazes speak louder than stories told in alehouses."

"You are yarning in such a place yourself," Gord interjected dryly.

"Just so," Eneever Zig said humorlessly. "I have frequented such places as this for a fortnight, seeking vainly for associates able to meet my demanding standards. After paving over sufficient stiver, your names came to the fore. Your repute is high, and if your true qualifications come anywhere near the whispered attributes I have been told, then my — our — venture is assured!"

"What can we hope to find, mage, in a subterranean labyrinth you yourself have just said is bare of wealth but possibly not of undesirable creatures?"

Eneever Zig compressed his thin lips into an invisible line, shaking his gray locks as he did so. "You listen well, young thief, but you hear not. Recent explorers report naught; that is not a statement of condition, but rather their own ineptitude. My information is such that we will delve far deeper than those without such intelligence could ever hope to do, into the very heart of the lightless domain beneath the castle. Many untouched places remain — crypts laden with gold, chests filled with pearls and gemstones. even magical stuff suitable for swords- All of that is yours, all! Only one prize must I have, and will have. My spells and powers and your skills as fighters will clear out any who should think to prevent us from attaining our goal. The fruits of all such labors are waiting for you. Let us off!"

"I'm ready!" Chert bellowed in his eagerness, his eyes shining with visions of hoarded loot.

"Not quite so fast," Gord said, sitting calmly. "What assurance do we have of the truth of your claims?"

The wizard's face darkened at the suggestion that he might be dealing in lies, but he visibly brought himself under cold control again. "I understand. You must hear words which are mere fabrications in order to persuade you to join schemes of uncertain merit. My sincerity, and the truth of my assertions, is demonstrable only in the doing. Yet. I can show good faith. Agree to accompany me, and I will here and now pay over a sum sufficient to make even a fruitless quest worthwhile."

"How large a sum?" the young thief asked suspiciously.

"Ten gold orbs. . each!"

"We are your men!" Chert cried, nearly upsetting the table as he rose and eagerly thrust forth his huge palm. "Come on, Gord, it is high time to stop this useless bantering and be about our questl"

Gord rose slowly to his feet and, against his better judgment slowly extended his right hand. There was something about this wizard that made the young thief more than a little uncomfortable.

The once-magnificent castle could be seen from any vantage point in the city. It was on a high hill about three miles away from the northern verge of Grey hawk. The only road, at one time smooth and easily accessible, had slowly deteriorated into little more than a rutted trail that was seldom, if ever, used any more. Local folk shunned the area, claiming that the things that dwelled beneath the pile of stones came forth at night to waylay the unwary. The land surrounding the castle for approximately a mile in any given direction was a tangled wilderness, save for that to the north of the castle's great mound. There lay a great bog with pools said to be bottomless and mires of deadliest sort.

Gord and Chert had, in fact, been to the deserted ruins before. They had dared the dungeons underneath, and after considerable exploration had decided their time was more profitably spent in other endeavors.

That adventure had begun when, by sheerest chance, the two had stumbled upon the lair of a small group of outlaws. It was a confrontation neither side expected, but Gord's lightninglike reflexes had enabled him and Chert to have the advantage. The hard-fought combat that followed earned both the young thief and his hulking companion numerous wounds. The surviving outlaws begged for quarter and received it from the two. In return, Gord and Chert took all the holdings these brigands possessed in ill-gotten gains. The sum was trifling, but the haul included a map showing a place far below the castle where other bandits had hidden a vast store of loot.

Gord and Chert had enlisted the captive outlaws into their ranks, followed the map, and ended up finding nothing but horrors and disgusting things that haunted the stony tunnels and rooms there. It should have been more than a sufficient lesson for both. But…

. . Here they were again, footsteps echoing in the vaulted hall, heading for the place in the center of the old castle. Eneever Zig was leading them directly to the broad steps that spiralled down to the endless levels that lay tinder Castle Greyhawk. The wizard was moving with great assurance, and he was showing not the least hesitation in the process. There could be no doubt that he knew at least the initial stage of this venture.

"That door there leads to a maze of passages beyond," the barbarian volunteered as they reached the end of the stairway. Then he added, almost proudly, "Gord and I have done this before."

Eneever Zig, seemingly surprised by the revelation, turned his back to the heavy portal. "This is not the way we will take, barbarian," he told the hill-man flatly. Your past experiences are nothing to me. Come."

He strode to a place where the curved wall was built out to receive the last of the big steps. The wizard fumbled around for some time before finally managing to move a small stone. "Now shove against the slab," he told Chert, pointing as he said it. The barbarian gave a casual shove, and the rectangle of hewn granite swung inward.

"I'll be dipped in boiling- "

Take this lantern and go down," Zig commanded, cutting off Chert's sentence. These steps should take us down to the place where we will begin our quest."

". . batshit," Chert finished, a mixture of surprise and determination on his face. He accepted the proffered lantern and started down the stairs, bowing his massive trunk in order to fit through the little opening.

"You next, thief," said the wizard. "I will remain in the rear to guard us from any attack from that quarter and so that I can have my spells ready when needed."

Gord readily complied. Chert was already several steps down and moving rapidly. The lantern revealed an open, web-strewn shaft. The stairs were hewn from its rock sides, and how far the circular opening went down was indeterminable, for the feeble light that the hillman held aloft illuminated only fifteen or twenty feet ahead. But the cold draft coming upward indicated they had far to go. There was a soft rumbling from behind. Eneever Zig had closed the secret entrance to the shaft behind them, a move that pleased Gord. Now if anyone wanted to follow them into this particular part of the dungeon, they would be hard pressed to figure out how to gain entrance.

"Shun those cracks and fissures!" Eneever Zig hissed as Chert stopped to peer into one of the many narrow openings carved into the stone walls of the passage. Those are distractions of no interest, leading to places where hostile things lurk."

"Oh," the barbarian said soberly. He proceeded to get a better grip on his massive battle-axe and then hurried past the crumbling fissure.

They came to the bottom of this hidden shaft after climbing down more than two hundred feet, as far as Gord could reckon. Considering the altitude of their starting point, the young thief estimated that they must now be no less than three hundred feet beneath the hilltop upon which the fortress was built, and possibly fifty feet beneath normal ground level.

The place was chilly and damp. Strange runes and symbols covered the granite walls. Water dripped into a shallow pool that dominated the center of the place, and slight trickles ran down the walls and added to the dark liquid. Again the exit was obvious — a pair of rusted iron doors were set in the solid rock.

"What now?" Gord asked the wizard.

"Ignore those," Zig said, nodding toward the iron doors. The master of this place put many distractions and diversions throughout his playground. Look for a mark of some strange sort on the stone floor circling the pool," he commanded.

Gord, Chert, and Zig circled the pool several times, each set of eyes intent on discovering some, sort of marking, though none of the three knew exactly what form that would take.

"I'm getting dizzy," Chert said after his fifth lap around the pool.

"Keep still, and keep looking!"

Gord stopped, so suddenly that the clumsy barbarian, following close on his friend's heels, was not able to halt in time to avoid a collision. Gord, who was promptly knocked off his feet, donned a wry expression and stared up at a sheepish-looking Chert.

"Geeesh, Gord! What're you doing down there?" the lumbering barbarian asked innocently.

"I wanted to get a closer look. Chert." Gord said in a patronizing tone. He waved aside the hand Chert offered in assistance and pushed himself away from the ground. But halfway up the observant thief gave a low whistle and crouched back down. "I think I see what we're looking for," he said softly to the wizard, indicating a faint scribing on the stone floor.

Brushing past the dumbfounded barbarian, Eneever Zig came to where Gord crouched. "Aha! That is the mark I sought," the spell-caster concurred when Gord pointed to the etchings on the ground. The wizard went immediately to the bare wall of the shaft and began searching there for a matching rune chiseled into the stone.

Gord and Chert followed his lead, both of them amazed at the various signs, symbols and runes covering the wall.

"It is here, just as I thought!" the wizard exclaimed excitedly. "Quickly now, both of you. Stand in the pool and I will join you momentarily."

"Are you keeping track of all this, Gord?" Chert whispered to his friend.

"Yeah, for what it's worth, I am. Chert, but you had better try to remember a few things, too."

The wizard was casting some sort of spell. Gord was unable to fathom what the dweomer was, but after making several passes in the air and uttering some tongue-twisting syllables, Eneever Zig rapped the wall with a small silver rod, turned, and dashed into the pool, the spray from his hurried entry wetting both adventurers as they stood in the ankle-deep water.

"ow! We're going to drown!" Chert cried as he noticed that the water had suddenly started to rise — rapidly! Or were they sinking? The water now covered his chest.

"What's happening, Zig?" The young thief demanded hysterically as Chert continued to emit a few loud complaints of his own.

"Quiet," the wizard hissed. "Don't distract me. We are merely sinking through stone. Hold your breath now," the fellow added hastily, for Gord's head was about to sink under the surface of the pool.

The sensation was strange indeed. Gord felt as if he were standing on firm ground, and at the same time the pit of his stomach told him he was falling. The cold water touched his neck, moved upward to bathe his face, his head tingled, and then there was a brown-gray darkness all around. He kept holding his breath until his lungs felt as if they would burst. Suddenly the weird darkness was replaced by a normal blackness. Having his enchanted sword in hand, Gord was able to see in spite of the darkness. Chert and Eneever Zig were beside him, standing with their backs to a smooth granite wall, facing a chamber with several passages leading from it.

"That wasn't so difficult," the wizard said under his breath, seemingly impressed with his own magical prowess. Eneever Zig calmly reached over and touched the lantern that Chert held in his left hand. It had been extinguished by their passage through water and stone, but as the wizard laid his hand upon the thing, flame sputtered and sprang to life from its plaited wick. "There, now we can all see," he said.

"Now that we can see, there's something i'd like to hear. The big question is, pal, do you know how to reverse the dweomer so we can return when we want?" Gord's voice reflected his skepticism.

"Good thinking, Gord. Just how do we leave this place?" Chert echoed his friend's question.

"We'll worry about that later," Eneever Zig answered, obviously annoyed. "It will be merely a matter of discovering the route upward and taking it."

"Discovering? What makes you so certain that there is a way out of this pit? We could be trapped here forever!" Gord was becoming uneasy, to say the least.

"Nonsense, thief! Haven't you learned to rely upon my ability yet? The same tome that enabled me to penetrate this place also mentioned a means of egress."

"Tell us both now," Gord demanded, his tone menacing. "If something should befall you, wizard, we two would be left lost and helpless. Share your information immediately!"

"Yeah, you wizzo weasel," Chert added, backing the magician into the cold granite wall. Tell us how to get out of here — now!"

Eneever ignored the threat. He pointed at each of the exits in turn, counting from left to right. "Nine, as there should be. We must follow the passage beyond the fifth arch."

Chert continued to press the wizard against the wall. "We're not going anywhere till you tell us how to get out of here!" he said, the words dripping with acid.

"You two are here to assure my success. If I die you have failed, so you will then deserve to die too! No, thief and barbarian, you shall have no share of my information. Guard me well, or we will all die here beneath Castle Greyhawk!"

"Shit! I figured something like this would happen. Grab the blaster, Gord, and I’ll make him tell us."

Gord was tempted, for the huge barbarian just might be able to twist and pummel the information from Eneever Zig. Wisdom was there to prevent the action, however. "Wait, Chert! This isn't the time or place to squabble. What if Zig manages to attack us with magic? What if he won't tell us, no matter what we do to try to make him talk? Then we'll have an out-of-commission magic-user and still no means of escape. We're in a lose-lose situation."

Then, turning to the gaunt wizard, Gord said, "You have us, as well you know. But hear this, you sorry sorcerer. Although we have no choice but to go along now, we are no longer your allies." Eneever Zig stared at the young adventurers for a moment, seeing the truth of Gord's words written on the faces of both men. "Oh. don't worry, Zig." Gord continued. "We're smart enough to be concerned about our own skins, which means we'll protect you to the full. But the moment we discover a means of egress, you are on your own!"

"Unless I have the prize I seek, thief, you and your brawny comrade will desert me at risk! You agreed to serve for the duration of this quest," Eneever retorted, giving the barbarian a hefly shove and walking away from the two angry comrades.

"Not so, old dweomercraefter," Chert growled, reaching out and grabbing the wizard as he attempted to walk away. The furious hillman slammed Eneever Zig hard against the wall and pressed his face into that of his captive. "We agreed to share, not serve, and sharing goes for information as well as treasure. Your refusal to tell us what you know about leaving this hole breaks our agreement." He loosened his hold on the spell-caster and backed off a pace.

Zig smoothed the wrinkles out of his mussed-up robe and straightened his crooked hat. "Bah! Stop babbling and yawping about escape. I'll deal with you both if you try to back out, but that isn't likely to occur any time soon. If we stand here much longer, making such a racket, we are sure to bring unwanted and hungry visitors — and that's a certainty. Now proceed through that portal there."

Gord motioned for his comrade to wait, and the young thief slipped silently ahead, disappearing into the dark tunnel with a wave to indicate the two should follow him. By his action, Gord was about forty or fifty feet ahead of the barbarian and the wizard. The pale light of the lantern behind did not interfere with the magical vision that his sword bestowed upon him, so Gord was now able to see well ahead into the corridor.

It was a hewn passage about fifteen feet wide, vaulted above, with a smooth floor and downward slope. The young thief estimated that for every ten feet of its length, the tunnel slanted downward about a foot. Strange clumps of vegetable stuff grew here and there on the walls; his sight showed the growth in a pale, bluish radiation, light given off by the matter. Gord took care to avoid the strange growths as he stole ahead.

After a time he picked up the pace. The passage ran on ahead, without turn, without adit. Gord decided that scouting well ahead was better, and, after informing Chert and Eneever as to his intentions, he left his two companions far behind. He had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile when he saw a cavern ahead. By lying flat on the floor of the passageway, Gord could peer along its downslope and see the strange place, if only in glimpses.

First there was a sheet of reddish light playing throughout the place. Fire, he guessed. It winked out in an instant, only to be replaced by a deep green light that shimmered and wavered. What that was. he couldn't tell. That, too, was transformed momentarily, and billowing vapors of pearly gray took the place of the glowing green. Just as Gord was about to clamber up and go back to warn Chert and the wizard of what lay ahead, the opalescent whiteness vanished, and blackness seemed to cover the cavern. One last look, however, revealed that the blackness was striated by bands of gray, brown, and similar somber hues — ochre, umber, terra cotta, dun.

"Now what in the Nine Hells is all that?" Gord asked aloud as he stood and ran back up the passage. As he did so, the yellow glow of the lantern shined ahead. Chert and Zig were approaching.

"What brings you back at such a pace, thief?" the wizard asked, a worried frown playing across his face.

"Chert, be ready! There's something strange ahead. I think it is dangerous too, wizard."

At that the spell-worker immediately began digging into the front of his robe. He drew forth a small tube of parchment, unrolled it, and scanned the writing thereon for several seconds before he spoke. "This is the first of the challenges which we must overcome. I believe that it is a matter which I can handle well enough, but both of you be ready with your weapons just in case."

"What nature is this so-called challenge, Zig?"

Eneever Zig gave a harsh, chopped-short bark that might have been a laugh. "You are apt with your words, thief." Saying no more, the wizard brushed past the two adventurers and strode purposefully ahead, a crystal-tipped ivory wand in his left hand and his right hand thrust into a pouch attached to his girdle.

Chert took several long strides and was even with the wizard. Shortening his step then, the giant hillman kept level with Zig on his right while Gord paced along at his left. Like it or not, they had to ward this man, for he was their only means of eventually leaving this strange underworld. Holding his huge axe in one hand. Chert swung it back and forth to loosen his muscles and prepare for possible combat. Brool's curved head glittered, and a buzzing sound issued from the weapon as it cut through the air. The barbarian grinned at that, for the hum reassured him. Gord, too, was prepared to fight, his dagger now in his left hand to serve as main gauche to the short sword he plied.

That's what I like," Eneever Zig said without glancing aside at either of them. "Staunch henchmen ready to defend their master."

"Bite it, Zig!" Chert said with a growl.

Gord didn't bother to respond. Time enough later to settle accounts with this arrogant spellworker. There was a problem at hand that needed all of their attention. "Again, Zig, what lies ahead?"

Before the wizard got around to replying, if he ever intended to do so, the three were at the mouth of the cavern. The fiery sheet of stuff that filled the great space was replaced by the translucent emerald shimmer. Now Gord could see that it appeared to be water. How it was held within the cavern and did not come rushing along the tunnel they stood in, the young adventurer had no idea. The green-hued liquid remained for a minute. Then it was replaced by swirling clouds and streaks of empty, clear blue space. This, too, persisted for but moments, and then it gave way to the gloom of earth-toned bands, just as Gord had witnessed earlier.

Now the wizard spoke. "You see, you were aware of the challenge all along, thief. You asked and answered your own query, didn't you? The nature of this place is just that — the elements which combine to form Nature."

"Do we burn, drown, fall, or suffocate?" Chert asked angrily as the flames again sprang into being before them.

"Silence!" Eneever Zig watched the play of the fire, counting under his breath as he did so. As the burning wall of fire paled almost undetectably, the gaunt dweomercraefter acted. "Be subject to water!" he cried loudly. The deep green came into being instantly, "Be bound by air!" As the command rang out, the water disappeared and the cloudy, pearly hue replaced the green. "Be balanced by earth!" Now the darkly striated mass filled the cavern. Eneever Zig shouted more loudly still when the dark, earthlike stuff appeared. "Be combined with all!" he boomed.

Suddenly, instead of a cavern buried hundreds of feet underground, the two startled young men saw a sweeping vista before them. Green hills stretched away into the distance. In their folds were copses of trees, a winding brook, and a large pond. The vault of the sky above was dotted with fluffy, white clouds. A small cottage stood in the center of a meadow before them, its chimney issuing a thin plume of bluish smoke. Insects hummed, birds sang, and what appeared to be wild cattle, aurochs, grazed on a distant ridge.

"Now that's magic!" Chert exclaimed. "Let's get out of here and head for home!"

Eneever Zig laughed his barking laugh, derisively. "We'll get out of this passageway, all right. And we'll visit the home before us, too. More than that, my hulking barbarian. I will not promise."

Soon they were standing before the door of the cottage. From its dim interior stepped a tall, muscular man. His white garments, staff, and adornments showed him to be a druid of some sort, Gord thought. The man looked at them with his bright, commanding brown eyes. "What seek you here?"

"The Element Master," Eneever Zig said with a tinge of uncertainty discernible in his voice.

"You have found him, little wizard. Now what do you wish of me?"

"I… we … will pass through your domain!"

"Will you face the heat of my fire then?"

"No! We demand another challenge."

"Very well," the tall man said smoothly, "water it shall be."

"No!"

Now the Element Master frowned as if he were annoyed at this second contradiction. "You are a difficult one, bushy-brows. Nevertheless, I offer the trial of air to you and your associates."

Eneever Zig had regained his full confidence. "Not so! We decline air as well!"

Scowling at them, the white-garbed Element Master called back. Then only earth is left to you."

"Do not deceive us, Master of the Elements," the wizard countered yet again. "We decline earth, for I am aware there is a fifth challenge, one you are not required to mention — we call for Nature!"

This caused the tall man to shake his fist angrily at Eneever Zig. "For one so limited in the arts, wizard, you are well-versed in certain lore. Bah! Take that niggling trial then, rather than the heroic ones I presented."

"We accept!" cried the spell-binder.

The Element Master gestured, and a huge bull aurochs came thundering toward them. The burly hillman must best the bull!"

A second wave, and a monstrous reptile slithered forth from a clump of brush nearby. The quick little thief must best this snake!" Finally, a third pass, and a dark shadow covered them. "Wizard, you will defeat the roc that plummets upon you even now, or your bones will nourish my soil!" As he concluded, the Element Master turned as if to walk away but then swung to face the trio. "Oh, one minor detail I forgot to add." A broad grin played across his face as he continued. "One of you may not help a companion until you have defeated your own challenge. Then and only then may you come to the aid of a comrade. If this rule is broken, all three of you will die instantly!" The Element Master issued a loud, cruel laugh, and he and his cottage vanished.

The terrain seemed to shift and flow, and all three men found themselves within a large bowl, a natural amphitheater with cliffs forming a barrier around its half-mile diameter.

"Let's get this over with!" Chert exclaimed excitedly as he turned to face his opponent. Axe raised high, the hillman shouted a battle cry and ran forward to meet the bull's charge.

Chert thought the battle with the wild aurochs would be a fairly easy matter until he saw the true size of the bull. From a distance it had appeared to be of normal size, but close up there was no question that the beast was monstrous. The creature was fully as tall at the shoulder as the barbarian and its head was armed with wickedly pointed horns that appeared to be at least four feet long.

"If this is 'niggling' i'd hate to see the other challenges we were offered!" the disheartened barbarian marveled.

Meanwhile, Gord did his best to avoid the snake that threatened him. It was a giant cobra, its hood spread and its fangs dripping venom. The monster reared back, its head poised for a fraction of a second, then it shot forward. The young thief detected the attack at about the same instant it occurred and quickly did a back-flip to avoid the strike. The glob of poison the cobra spat barely missed its mark, a fact that Gord found somewhat disconcerting, to say the least. Circling, the two opponents began a game of cat and mouse, although it wasn't apparent who or what was which, since the snake was not eager to expose itself to the young man's two blades.

If Chert and Gord thought they were having a difficult time of it, they should have been in Eneever Zig's robes! The wizard was beginning to wonder if he would live to see the completion of this challenge, let alone the completion of his quest. The great bird had him pinned to the ground with a single, mighty talon. The horny claws of one foot caged the wizard as the roc sought to use its deadly beak to snap him in two. Eneever darted and flapped, too busy avoiding talons and snapping beak to cast a spell, but able to send forth a dart of energy now and again from his small wand. The crackling streak of power that issued forth from the crystal-tipped wand was aimed always at the terrible roc's massive beak. Each time the creature was struck by a little bolt of energy, it squawked in pain. The sound was earsplitting because of the bird's massive size, and the effect seemed to make the roc redouble its efforts to devour the wizard.

As the aurochs thundered down upon him. Chert managed to sidestep one of the great horns that was aimed right at the barbarian's belly. As the beast bellowed and screeched past its intended victim. Chert brought his massive blade down upon the animal's shoulder. Brool bit deep, but the shaft was ripped from Chert's grasp as the bull quickly skidded into a perfectly executed turn. Blood streamed down the animal's side, and this same sanguine hue lit its eyes as it came back with a look of vengeance the likes of which Chert had never before seen in man or beast!

All the huge hillman could do was grapple with the monster. Yelling like a madman. Chert ran directly at the bull, grabbed one of the massive horns, and twisted. But he wasn't quite quick enough and his leverage was off. The aurochs tossed its head, and its thickly muscled neck shot up and back. The barbarian sailed through the air and landed with a thump, twenty feet behind the enraged beast. The bull spun, brought its forward-curving horns parallel to the turn, and trotted ahead, horns parting the low grass as it came. Chert was on his feet instantly and he did the only thing left to do — he ran in the opposite direction. The bull's head shot up at that, and it quickened its pace to a lumbering, deceptively rapid run. The distance between man and animal narrowed rapidly. The monster's hot breath was beginning to warm Chert's back when the barbarian threw himself to one side, crouched and rolled. One hooking horn gouged a bloody groove across his calf, but he was otherwise unhurt. Somehow Chert managed to regain his feet quickly, a difficult act for the clumsy barbarian. He immediately sprang after the bull. Keeping to the flank in which his axe was still imbedded. Chert began a game with the animal.

The cobra was readying itself to spit again. Desperately, Gord took aim and hurled his long dagger. But the monstrous reptile weaved its head at that moment, so the blade failed to take it full in its gaping mouth. Instead the dagger's edge passed along the snake's skull, not piercing it, but slicing the thing's eye. Hissing in pain, the cobra struck, knowing that being blind on one side would assure its death.

Gord was nearly taken by the sudden attack, for he had been poised to counter a venomous missile when the strike came instead. He managed to bat the cobra's head aside with the flat of his sword, then darted ahead among the huge reptile's coils. Once, twice, the shortsword slashed, then Gord was beyond the writhing body. The cobra slithered so as to come at him again, and Gord decided that he had to get to close quarters quickly. He leaped to attack again, blade pointed ahead. The cobra reared higher, pulling its head back. Gord was on its blind side now. and, wasting no time, he jumped at the opportunity to finish the creature. Gord's blade struck upward. The tip went through the cobra's lower jaw from below, pierced its mouth, sliced its brain, and protruded from the reptile's thick skull in one smooth plunge. The snake thrashed in its death throes and Gord, utterly exhausted, stood by and watched till it died. Then he wasted no time in rushing to his friend's side.

The bull sent Chert flying with a sideways kick, but the barbarian managed to hang onto Brool. The bit came free, and Chert was ready and waiting for the aurochs when it charged again. This time he stood squarely in the huge animal's path as it bellowed and snorted in its charge. The great axe was above the hillman's head as the bull approached. In a blur of motion. Brool flashed down and split the heaviest portion of the auroch's skull, the poll, and passed clean through in the process. The animal's momentum continued, dead on its feet as it was. Gord screamed a warning as the charging beast struck Chert, flung him backwards, and parted man from axe once again. Then the aurochs crashed to the blood-splattered grass, kicked convulsively and finally lay still.

"Are you all right?" Gord asked, rushing over to where his friend lay like a heap of bloody rags. Chert's eyes were closed, and he seemed lifeless.

"Oh, Chert!" Gord moaned, dropping beside his bulky friend. "If only i'd refused that dastardly wizard's proposal in the first place, you'd still be alive!" Gord was beside himself with grief and guilt. He allowed his head to fall on his friend's chest and the sobs came freely.

"Hey! Don't drown me!" Chert's eyelids snapped open suddenly, and the barbarian flashed a mischievous grin. "Fooled you! But I’m happy to hear you'd miss me if I were ever to depart from this very strange plane." Obviously the barbarian was battered and bruised, and the gouge on his leg trickled gore. But his wounds were definitely not fatal.

"Buffoon! You scared me out of a year," Gord said in disgust as he stood quickly, the back of his hand attempting to wipe away any telltale signs of premature mourning. Then he added in as disgusted a tone as he could muster, a hard task since he was feeling nothing but relief, "Well, I see you didn't get off without some pain, at least. And I say it serves you right. Anyone who'd pull a nasty prank like the one you just pulled on me deserves to suffer," Gord said with mock severity.

"The cobra wasn't too much for you, I see." Chert remarked, ignoring Gord's lecture.

"Piece of pie — snake pie," Gord said with a smug grin. "I'll bind your leg. and then you can help me find my dagger. …" The thiefs voice trailed off then because a resounding screech from the roc reminded him that the wizard was still in jeopardy.

"Balls. Gord, that bird's going to finish Eneever Zig in a moment unless we do something — fast!" Now it was Chert's turn to panic.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Gord called over his shoulder as he trotted toward the struggling wizard. "Don't stand there gawking, come on!" The young thief made it there before the hobbling Chert could come anywhere near.

Gord's shortsword was a puny pin against a creature with a wingspread of more than sixty feet and strength sufficient to lift an elephant. Nonetheless, the bold adventurer rushed ahead and hacked at the roc's tail. The blade severed monstrous feathers and must have cut the bird's skin as well. It squawked mightily again, pivoted on its encaging left foot, and glared at Gord.

"Oh, shit!" The exclamation rose unbidden to his throat as Gord saw that the roc was now intent on snapping him in twain with its huge beak.

Just at that moment Chert, limping along as quickly as he could, finally joined the group, and the roc was distracted for a crucial instant. Eneever Zig had been left alone long enough to recover his breath, gather his wits and cast a spell. With a courage bom of desperation, the wizard completed his dweomercraefting and grabbed fast to the nearest huge talon of the monstrous bird. One instant the glaring eye of the roc glittered menacingly at Gord as the bird's neck approached. The next, feathers were a uniform gray, eye stony, and talons calcious. "Run. Gord!"

Gord took Chert's shouted warning to heart, scampering away as fast as he could. The petrified bird was toppling over with majestic slowness, but the pull of gravity would soon cause the fall to quicken. If Gord were anywhere under the thing, there would be nothing left of him but a smear on the ground!

The crash of petrified bird upon the earth made the ground shake. "Wow!"

"I'll second that Chert!"

"Good," a dry voice said, breaking their awed reverie. "I see that you two have managed to handle your lesser challenges well enough, although I deplore the condition you both appear to be in. Tend to yourselves immediately, while I settle matters with the Element Master," Eneever Zig ordered.

"How about a thank you?" Gord asked, amazed at the lack of gratitude on the part of the wizard.

"Duty carried out deserves no praise, nor any thanks. It is duty," the wizard said with no hint of emotion.

"Come on, chum, help me with this bandage," Chert said. "No sense in starting a quarrel with him now."

Both adventurers were in fair shape when the wizard came stumping back with the Element Master. "I told you, these two need not be bothered in this matter," he said crossly to the druidlike figure.

"Nonsense, little wizard. They passed their tests, and now I must inform each of his personal options. You have these choices as well but you can not speak for these other two. Each is free to decide for himself."

Lips compressed, Eneever Zig stood back and watched the Element Master address the two young men. "Having won fairly, you each are entitled to select one of the two following options. You may accept a prize that I will bestow upon you and then return the way you came. Or you may opt to go from here, without any reward save such passage. The choice is yours."

Of course there was no real choice, although both men considered the aspect of the first option. Treasure and return would be useless, for the way back was unknown to them. They had to press on. "I told you so!" the wizard said smugly as the Element Master heard the two young adventurers opt for going ahead. The tall man shrugged, spread his arms, and the light was gone. The three were in a tunnel that sloped gently downward. Behind them a cavern was obscured by alternating colors and conditions.

"Now for the Lord of Balance!" Eneever Zig said, almost gleefully, as he rubbed his long hands together briskly.

Soon enough they came to the place where this personage was ensconced. That was evident from the nature of the cavern. The sign of the balance was only one indication, and a huge metal scale before them another. The cavern was half-lighted, half dark. Flames shot from a pool, but the fire burned in only half of the basin, for the other portion was crystal-clear, placid water. Gord saw that it was so crystalline and still because it was solid ice. Everything else seemed to contradict something as well. Lush grass sprang from barren rock, while dead plants thrust up from rich, dark soil. Colorless trees were bedecked with a riotous array of blossoms of all hues, only one such tree had tiny ones, another huge-petaled blooms. The ugly and beautiful, delicate and coarse, wholesome and poisonous, soft and hard, wet and dry, male and female, tall and short, and every other sort of contrast was everywhere — and nowhere at the same time, it seemed!

"Welcome, strangers. Why come to the place of Yangyin?"

The wizard stepped forth, hands raised, palms outward and before him. "I recognize you, Lord of Balance, Master Yangyin," he intoned. "I demand passage through this place."

"And what of me?" a soprano voice cried. "I recognize you. Lady of Balance, Mistress Yin-yang. I beg leave to pass through your realm."

"Enter," the male voice commanded. "Stay out!" the female voice countered. Gord peered left and right, but he could detect no one. Chert was likewise looking for speakers with the same result. Eneever Zig seemed untroubled, however, and marched into the strange place without hesitation. Again, the two young adventurers had no choice but to follow. After walking for what seemed like an hour, they came to a place that was the center of the cavern. There suddenly appeared before them two figures, one a male of purest white color, the other a female of pure black. The wizard bowed slightly, and Gord and Chert hastened to follow suit.

"Will you pay our price?" the male figure asked.

"We will and will not," the wizard replied.

"Good," said the female.

"Bad!" the wizard cried in answer.

Who will serve as the contestant?" Master Yangyin demanded.

Eneever Zig was ready. "He on my right, big, he on my left, small. Two will contest for our passage."

"Now I see why the combination of Chert and Gord was chosen for this mission," the small thief whispered to his huge friend. "I guess we're what you'd call 'in balance'"

"One will live!" the man said, looking at Chert as he spoke.

"One will die," the ebony female announced in a sultry tone as she gazed at Gord.

"That is in Fate's hands." the wizard countered. "Balance!"

At that both figures scowled, for the words of the spell-binder were a counter to their pronouncements. Then they smiled. The white male figure turned without speaking and beckoned them to follow, while the black female stepped among the three and spoke.

"It is seldom indeed that strangers enter our realm through this portal," the seductive Lady Yin-yang purred.

"It is often," her male counterpart snapped in disagreement.

The lady ignored his rebuff. "May I offer hospitality and assistance?"

Gord quickly took the initiative. "No. We do not ask for your weal, for then he would counter with woe." the young thief said, pointing to the pale Lord Yangyin.

Chert immediately caught his friend's meaning. "Nor do we want your assistance. Dark Mistress, for then the White Lord would surety do his equal best to hinder us."

Making a moue of disappointment. Lady Yin gave a shrug and turned away from them at the barbarian's rejection. The snow-white Yang, in contrast, turned and came to them, a look of gratification on his face.

The two young adventurers had the measure of this place now.

"Let's get on with the challenge." Eneever Zig said.

The two rulers of the place looked at each other. "Dead to contest with the living?" asked Lady Yin.

"No, these men are too strong for such puny opposition."

"Actually," Lady Yin said, visually assessing Gord and Chert, "they are too weak."

"Allow me a moment to consider," replied Lord Yang.

"I won't consider it at all," Yin said in a definitive tone.

"Do as you wish," the wizard said forcefully, "but we are going." With that the gray-locked fellow strode off, his rusty black robes swishing. Gord and Chert were more than willing to follow him, so all three marched away toward the place where they supposed the exit to the cavern lay.

"We shall join you, yes?" asked Yang.

"Sure," Chert told the two. "Come along."

"No, we'll manage ourselves," Gord said almost simultaneously.

"A balance," Zig noted without expression.

Lord and lady stared hard at all three of their guests. "We will go along all the same," Yang said.

"Speak for yourself. I will stay," Lady Yin said.

It had taken an hour to walk to the midpoint of the hemi-plane that the cavern represented. But the trek across the remainder took only a minute, of course. It was disturbing because they seemed to be traveling no faster, yet the terrain slid past on either side as if they rode the swiftest of coursers. Very soon they were at a place where a dark arch showed where a tunnel must run. a gently sloping passage going through solid stone, leading down and elsewhere.

"This has been somewhat disappointing," Yang confessed. "But there is one bright ray of sunlight peeking through this otherwise cloudy encounter." Yang smiled and continued. "There is still the matter of balances yet to be made. Strangers, who will now go back to balance your going ahead?"

"You will!" Gord shot back at the pale man without thinking.

A male cry of rage and a female laugh of delight faded away in the distance as Lord Yang was magically sent back along the path the adventurers had followed. Lady Yin's mocking laughter could be heard all the way through the cavern.

"There are powers beyond them which even Yang and Yin must obey," the wizard said with a barking laugh, "and a good thing it was you stumbled upon the counter to Yang's plan, too. thief! I was fearful that they would have us contest with undead — balance between life and death, of course. That is why I left so quickly. By rushing them we managed to thwart that possibility, but Yang decided to accompany us to see if we'd make some slip along the way." Then he laughed again. "Now I know why, although I must admit, I didn't have it figured out until you had already acted on our behalf, thief. You're turning out to be much more help than I had dared hope." The wizard was obviously delighted.

"How did Yang's going back balance our going on?" Chert inquired as they moved along the hand-hewn passageway.

Eneever Zig stopped his harsh chuckling, but a smile still showed on his gaunt features. "Fool! Do you think one of us alone is enough to counter either of those two powerful creatures?" Eneever asked derisively. "Since Lady Yin chose to stay behind, although she did so to maintain balance, she actually threw it off, just enough to allow us to escape. Apparently the three of us going far are equal to one of them going back but a little. Balance was maintained, all right, but not the way Yang and Yin intended it to be." With that the wizard burst into uproarious laughter.

As they approached yet another cavern. Chert stopped and demanded of Eneever Zig, "Where are the treasures you told us would be ours? So far we have been lucky to escape with our lives, and there isnt a jot of wealth to show for it!"

"Knowledge is an unsurpassed treasure, barbarian. Consider how much you have learned in the course of this quest."

"Yes, we have learned never to trust spell-binders," Gord murmured to his friend. "That piece of knowledge alone will profit us in the end — if we live to escape this place."

Chert hefted his big battle-axe and eyed the wizard. "Stop that doltishness!" Zig commanded. "It will gain us nothing. Besides, if my information is correct, there will be material rewards for us ahead, so let us stop this idle banter and progress."

"Just what does lie ahead, Zig?" Gord asked.

"The cavern ahead is an extension of the Realm of Thought, and the final obstacle between me and my heart's desire. Once through, we will be ready to delve to the depths where it lies. Now follow!"

The cavern was a formless place where colors and shapes kept wavering and changing. Nothing remained stable, and it was impossible to determine directions once the three had gone beyond the place where they could see the mouth of the passage they had entered from. Soon it seemed evident that they were wandering aimlessly.

"This is not what I expected," Eneever said crossly. "I must ponder a moment," he added, and with that he sat down. Both young men were surprised to see that the wizard rested on an ornately carved chair inscribed with mystic sigils.

"The chair," Gord said aloud.

"Quiet! I sit on my special chair, nothing more. How can I think if — my chair!" Zig leaped up and stared, but the seat had vanished even as he arose.

"It was there an instant ago," Chert volunteered.

"Of course! Thought is the answer. I thought of thinking, and to think, I usually seat myself in the very armchair that appeared, so my strongest mental image was unconsciously that of the seat!" The chair popped back into existence.

"Which means?"

"Guard carefully all thoughts, thief, and you too, barbarian! This area is attuned to images of the mind, and carelessness can be deadly. Resume your usual vacuous attitudes, and we will have no such difficulties. Meantime, I shall intelligently experiment and find the wherewithal to defeat this obstacle in my path."

What the wizard commanded brought the opposite results, naturally, as both Gord's and Chert's minds considered the possibilities. First a huge chest filled with gold and jewelry appeared at Gord's feet. Fist-sized gemstones and glittering platinum pieces cascaded from the heaped coffer to roll and clatter around his boots. Then suddenly, rising from the mound of treasure, came the hideous visage of some demonic guardian, smoking forth and assuming corporeal form. There was a female cry from behind Gord, and when he turned a beautiful half-elven girl was there, hand at her throat, her face a mask of fear. "Save me from that monster, Gord!" she begged.

"Evaleigh!" the young thief exclaimed, spinning around in a full circle so as to face the demon again, now with his sword and dagger in hand.

At the same time there appeared before Chert a trio of armored men, Aerdians Toy their dress and armor, cavaliers by bearing and words. "We guard the Overking's jewels, and no filthy barbarian from the Flinty Hills can take them from us!" the middle one boomed, drawing a bastard sword as he spoke. His companions did likewise, but then two other hulking figures, both only slightly smaller than Chert himself, stepped forward to oppose them. It was to be an even contest: three axes against three swords, barbarian hillmen fighting armored knights of Aerdi. Wild-looking, buxom women cheered on Chert and his two fellow hillmen, while sneering nobles in regal finery sat behind their cavaliers and urged them to slay their foes. A pack of shaggy hounds snarled and snapped at leather-mailed war-dogs belonging to the civilized foemen. whose pavilions showed banners of many hues and various devices. Around these tents swirled a battle between a swarm of hillmen with bows, spears, and axes who sought to overcome a well-formed company of uniformed footmen protecting a squadron of mounted cavaliers. Both sides seemed to be calling for reinforcements, and wild shouts, trumpets, and bellowing warhoms sounded in the distance.

"Stop! Are you demented?!"

Somehow the shout managed to draw Gord's attention from his life-and-death battle with the horrible demon. He spun to see who was speaking thus. Chert, too. left off his battle with the plated knight in an attempt to determine who would dare to interfere with this contest. Both young adventurers stared at Eneever Zig, who glanced back at them. The three were alone.

"Look at me. Listen to me," the wizard ordered tonelessly.

"Wha-"

"No. Do not speak, just listen. Both of you were creating things with your thoughts — thoughts you were not to have! All of those phantoms are gone now, but they can return, and they can do real damage if your minds give them form, substance, and power. This place is a deathtrap for the unwary and the untrained; undisciplined minds have no hope of survival. Thank your lucky stars that I am with you. Now," Eneever Zig said, looking at each in turn, "can you count?"

"Of course," Gord said with irritation.

"Can you?" Chert shot back, equally offended.

"Excellent! Thief, you count backward from one thousand. Hillman, you count as high as you can, use your fingers for all I care, and start again at the beginning when you can go no farther — and both of you do your counting silently!"

The wizard seated himself in his strange chair again as the two young adventurers complied with his instructions. Zig's face was a study of concentration, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, hands locked on the arms of his seat. Gord was still counting backward when he noticed a faint rocking motion underfoot. "Seven hundred seventy and nine. . seven hundred seventy and eight," he murmured under his breath as he carefully looked around to find the cause of the tremors. It took several moments, but then he finally comprehended the situation. They were on the vast, moss-covered back, of the largest turtle ever known. The monster was slowly plodding through the swirling void toward some unguessable destination.

While still counting in his mind, Gord managed to query the wizard. "This great turtle — why ponder it into existence?"

"Cease your jabbering and clear your mind of all save the numbers you count," Eneever Zig said without looking at Gord. "There is a lake we must cross, so this terrapin will take us there, for he senses water."

"Fourteen … ah … fifteen — water?" Chert asked aloud. Just after he spoke, Gord noticed a distinct difference in the motion underfoot. "A critter this size will need a big, big pond," the barbarian said with a chortle.

Zig nearly turned purple with rage. "You idiot!" he spat, and then he managed to control himself. The black, lightning-shot cloud that had formed over Chert's head vanished, and the turtle's back solidified again. "Do you think, you bumbling barbarian," Eneever began, obviously having to make an effort to keep his rage under control, "that it would be possible for you to keep your stupid thoughts to yourself?"

"Sure, but can I share a few intelligent ones with you?" Chert spat back sarcastically.

"Just count!" Eneever screeched the command.

"Ya know, Gord, I think he'd be a lot better company if only- "

"Don't think!" Both Gord and the wizard yelled at once.

"Okay, okay. You don't need to tell me twice," Chert said in a highly offended tone of voice. He resumed his counting.

A seemingly long time later Gord again sensed a change in motion. This time, the young thief noticed, they had reached the verge of the formless Realm of Thought and were embarked on a vast expanse of true water, the monstrous turtle swimming stoically upon its placid surface. Unfortunately, Chert had noticed the change too.

"Hey! What if this old mossback decides to dive-"

"Oh, no! Stop- "

It was too late. Even as Eneever Zig attempted to right the situation, the big hillman's thoughts took over. A simple, strong thought proved more powerful than the mental images from the complicated mind set of the wizard. The three found themselves immersed, sinking. Then they were just as suddenly afloat again, each riding an air-filled bladder as if mounted on a horse. The wizard was choking and muttering curses. The water around them began to bubble, and a dark shape began to rise toward them from far beneath the surface.

"That doesn't look like our turtle," Chert observed with consternation in his voice.

"Hopping Hells!" Gord shouted, tipping in his precarious seat upon the floating bag as he saw a terrible sea monster coming at them with jaws agape. Bladders vanished instantly, and all three were sitting instead on a huge square of solid iron. Of course it sank.

Eneever Zig quickly set his mind on an image of a wooden platform, and the three were soon floating on it. The raft was big and its deck was awash, but at least the three were not dunked a second time. Both the iron slab and the ravening monster of the deeps had vanished. Gord, feeling confident now, envisioned a solid line of wooden planks surrounding the edges of the raft, a boxlike work to keep the water from lapping across the planks underfoot. The latter he imagined as dry as he thought of the bulwarks. Sure enough, they were now floating in a huge, rectangular tray, garments dripping on a dry deck of solid oak.

"Not bad." Eneever Zig admitted grudgingly, "but both of you go back to counting again. I'll see that we get across."

Giant seahorses, yoked as a team, appeared and began hauling the boxy barge ahead. "Not bad yourself," Gord returned the compliment. But before Eneever had a chance to acknowledge it, mermaids of most beautiful face and form appeared on the backs of the creatures.

"Who did that?" the wizard demanded angrily, for the burdened seahorses could now barely make headway.

Chert looked sheepish. "Sorry," he said, "but those things made me remember the stories i'd heard-"

"Just count," Zig said with resignation.

"One. ." the barbarian said, and the mermaids were gone.

A rocky cliff was now visible, and a wide beach of black sand could be seen before the precipice. The seahorses were hauling them toward this place with strong motion. In a few minutes the three would be clear of the Realm of Thought and heading toward Eneever Zig's goal — whatever that was. The wizard was elated, and he exclaimed with satisfaction, "Only a handful of assorted monsters stand between us and the Ebon Well now! Be ready to fight stoutly when we land, for I believe that Bocheiris, the fish-bodied daemon, will be lurking near the tunnel we approach."

"Chert," Gord hissed at his comrade, "when you reach seven, think of the most precious thing you can! "

"Huh?Ah, four- okay."

Gord knew now how they could get away from this awful place and safely back, and better yet, he had figured out how to accomplish that and manage to garner some reward as well. Chert would be responsible for that last part of the task. As far as the wizard went, Eneever Zig could fight the lurking daemon with his magic. Gord and the barbarian would be long gone!

Fixing his mind and forming his thoughts carefully, Gord listened with half a mind to the hillman slowly say 'seven'. As Chert spoke the number, the young thief set his thoughts firmly. The clumsy barge grounded on the black sand. Eneever Zig had dispelled the seahorse team a moment before, and the momentum of their work did the rest.

"Now you may think freely — if you can," the wizard called to his two associates. "We have passed the Realm of Thought and my prize is all but won!" Only the waiting Bocheiris, toothy maw agape, was there to hear the wizard speak, however. Gord and Chert had vanished.

"Did it!" Gord exclaimed in triumph. He was standing on the weed-grown paves of the ruined courtyard of Castle Greyhawk. He had hoped he was right, but until now the young thief hadn't been certain if envisioning this place and wishing Chert and himself there would actually work. It had. and now he and the massive hillman could tramp safely back to the city, out of the nightmare realms hidden beneath the castle, with their spoils to be divided.

"Okay, Chert." he said without looking around as he heard the barbarian exclaim with glee at where they now stood, "let's see the treasure you thought up!"

The next sound Gord heard was a sweet, seductive giggle. Then Chert answered him. "Sure, pal, but we'd better think up a tub of water real soon. This pretty little mermaid wants to have a swim before dinner!"