Dance of Demons (31 page)

Gord could not so dIvide Courflamme. The light was needed to reinforce the dark when its blade had to confront the greatest wickedness ever known. For a heartbeat he regretted giving Leda his dagger, wishing he had it to serve as main gauche against the two small axes Tharizdun now spun and played as he advanced. Realizing that advantage had been turned to disadvantage, Gord rushed, using Courflamme's length and speed to make a deadly web before him. He had to regain a position at or just inside the entry, or else the battle was lost, whether or not Tharizdun actually slew him. The sword's tip showered forth scintillations of white fire, and from that light Tharizdun drew back for an instant "We have balance again," Gord rasped, standing fast now in the portal.

"
Ah, but you again seek unfair advantage
," the malign being snarled. "
You used those coruscations of empyreal matter to bund me. but I now counter with my own forces, for you have allowed such
!"

That was true. Gord had involuntarily willed the light to ensure that he regained his blocking position. Now he regretted the increasing scope of their combat By drawing force from elsewhere, Gord had opened an opposite channel for his foe. Tharizdun would not neglect to utilize that. "You will need all the help you can summon, maggot!" Then he regretted that as well.

From the two axes streamed things resembling blind, bloated slugs. They plopped upon the unyielding floor unharmed, then crawled in masses of disgusting, purplish-hued gropings, sucker-mouths working hungrily as they came. "
You speak to me of maggot! Now see what I bring you
."

Although not certain what one of the things would do if it found its way inside his armor, Gord was sure that agony and poison were the least of the effects. Each pass of one of the dark axes showered another score of the grubs, and a wave of the thumb-sized things would soon lap the floor at his feet. Yet he could not retreat from them, and to use Courflamme would be to invite destruction from the two whirling axes. If he used yet further force from outside this plane, then the master of wickedness could do the same, perhaps even establish a conduit that would flood Gord in its evil strength. He had to do something quickly, or else there would be no chance. It came to him in a flash of inspiration. "The ring!"

"
What did you say
?" Tharizdun demanded, hissing in hatred.

"I have the ring!" As he shouted that full into the vile creature's face, Gord thought of the blue band and its bright stone. From the sapphire came a glow, an orb of brightness that grew and solidified into a phoenix. The iridescent brightness of the creature's plumage was that of pure fire, and as would any bird, the blazing phoenix set upon the slugs. "They serve to make its hues more beautiful, no?" he called to the scowling Tharizdun, moving into an attacking stance as he spoke.

The phoenix was growing, its fire becoming incandescent as it devoured the things of Evil so quickly that Tharizdun knew there was no chance of bringing in enough for the grublike monstrosities to get past its darting beak of flame. Besides, the accursed object that Gord utilized might well send forth another of the birds if need be. He had been annoyed before, but now Tharizdun's breast was burning with rage as hot as the fiery phoenix before him. His adversary had evoked power that the dark deity could not counter, whose presence gave him no equal or greater advantage.

"
Whelp! You think me bested thus? It is idiocy
!" He turned and moved so quickly as to seem a blur. Then, from a comfortable seat on the stairway opposite the door, Tharizdun mocked, "
I must escape these chambers, it is true; but I have been in durance herein for centuries, youngling. You are mortal — or mostly so. I will wait here. you will grow weary, impatient. You will fall into sleep, or else you will come into the room to face me. either way, I can wait, for the result is foregone in its conclusion
." The twin axes again shimmered and became one. "
The great war axe will dIvide you as it does itself
."

Part of what he heard was irrefutable, but Gord considered another tack to which his foe seemed to be oblivious. "Gellor! Leda! Use your minds to send me the force held within your rings." he urged telepathically.

Within a moment there was a surge of energy flowing into his brain, through his body. Into the sapphire ring on his hand. "Let the space here reflect the compassion in your heart, Tharizdun," Gord called out. The dark stones and dismal atmosphere indicated to the young champion that his adversary had made the fortress his own, but not so the pure metal of adamantite that caged the archfiend. That stuff was of Light, and the power of Evil could not conquer its essence.

Tharizdun heard the sounds of dripping and hissing. The noise was that of metal running molten, falling and flowing as it did so. He cast a quick glance up over his shoulder to the chamber above. It was unaffected. Then Tharizdun used his power to see into the higher places of the spire. His prison crypt was covered in glowing adamantite, stuff molten and dropping from the conical roof peak gathering and sliding toward the curved staircase. "
Mere stuff as that won't harm me
," Tharizdun laughed.

"That is so, maggot," Gord called back not moving from his defense of the only exit from the place. "It will shrink the size of your realm, though," he added, now mocking the mocker.

It was so! The metal seemed to be sentient. It pooled, gathered, then flowed down. A portion remained to seal the way to the turret's roof while the remainder oozed down toward the next opening in the floor. As it sealed that space, the adamantite from the ceiling and wall heated, ran, moved to Join the rest, ready to flow further downward soon again. It could not harm him by its furnacelike heat, nor could the metal compress or suffocate Tharizdun. All it could accomplish was to make the chamber he now rested in into a cubicle, a virtual coffin. So constricted, the small man who championed all Tharizdun would destroy could skewer the Master of Evil as if he were a trussed bullock awaiting the butcher.

He had meant to be cautious, careful, not underestimate his adversary. That resolve had been broken, because the greatest of Evil was what he was, and arrogance, cruelty, hatefulness, and vanity were integral to his mind and makeup. Tharizdun had erred in assuming he could bypass an immediate confrontation, that he could overcome the foe easily, that he could somehow find and use his old powers. The little display with the boy's skull had been a stupid bit of braggadocio. Instead of horrifying the man to a point where Tharizdun could crush him easily, the ploy had backfired and made Gord more resolute. Now the last portion of his essence was still in the head, awaiting consumption before Tharizdun could employ his full faculties. The gray-eyed man with the deadly sword stood over the gory skull and seemed to understand its importance.

As bad was the fiasco of the three rings. The adversary obviously understood the edge those things allowed him here. If only he had eaten the child completely! Better still, had the little puppet only managed to get the tokens of Light away from the three, then served himself up to restore Tharizdun's vigor to its full! Neither case was, so what else could be done? He tried rage, but the fury was insufficient to bum away the fear. Wholly evil, totally malign, Tharizdun was all that comprises wickedness, and cowardice is as surely of that dark woe as cruelty and the rest Fear began to pervade Tharizdun, because he had no courage to face a foe who was his equal.

"
I'll hack you into bits
!" the beautifully evil one shrieked, his whole being torn by dread and hate. Tharizdun sprang erect and began to advance.

Somehow he hoped to force his way out of the confining chamber, to escape the adamantite's restraints, fly into the multiverse. Once loose, it would be only a matter of gathering power, gaining strength. Even without the immediate consumption of the last of his vital essence locked fast in the skull, Tharizdun would be so mighty that no champion could stand against him. The fear came from the evident probability of his not being able to break free without melee. The sword was too potent a weapon, and should it strike home, he. Tharizdun, might actually suffer the fate of mortals and lesser beings. The latter thought added the hate to the dread that consumed him.

For some inexplicable reason Gord moved into the chamber to meet Tharizdun's charge. Possibly it was meant to prevent a sudden lunge to freedom. Sword and battleaxe met with a clash that echoed off the metal walls, while sparks of magical generation sizzled and snapped through the air where the two weapons collided. Despite his opponent' advantages of height, weight, and reach, Gord turned the stroke of the axe with Courflamme. The heavy, doubleheaded weapon caromed upward from the parrying blow Gord delivered. The longsword was far faster in recovery than the massive war axe. Its edge sliced along the naked flesh of Tharizdun's torso, slid rather than rebounded. "The first!" Gord exclaimed.

"
Aaagh
!" was the sound that shot from the archfiend's cruel mouth. The dweomer of Courflamme's blade was insufficient to actually cut his flesh, but the contact hurt. A fiery burning puckered the flesh of his side, and Tharizdun's perfectlooking skin grew swollen and lIvid where the edge had struck.

The pain and the fury caused Tharizdun to lose control of his form, and he metamorphosed into a monstrous parody of man, a fiend with a visage more hideous than any demon's, eyes more baleful than those of Asmodeus himself. He brought the battleaxe around and down, striking the small man a glancing blow that knocked him away to the left. That allowed Tharizdun to have the two-bladed weapon at the ready before Gord could thrust or cut a second time in the exchange.

"You are well named. Master of Malevolence," Gord panted, feet planted, Courflamme weaving in a delicate pattern before the archfiend's eyes. "You wield a wicked stroke with that axe of yours, and your ugliness is beyond description. What will my next touch do, cause you to change into a dungpile?" It was not merely a taunt, a ploy to disconcert his adversary. Despite the pierced armor and small cut that the blade of Tharizdun's axe had inflicted, he saw how telling his attack had been. Power surged through Gord's whole body, and with it came a calm confidence. Above came the hiss and splatter of the molten adamantite as it slowly oozed downward. He could engage and best Tharizdun here long enough for the stuff to have its way. Then, even though the great axe could become two smaller ones, Gord knew his longsword would pierce the evil flesh of his adversary and end the threat of Tharizdun forever.

The same realization came upon Tharizdun that very moment. "
I am not ready
!" the being of Evil bawled as if calling upon the multiverse for succor. It was a protest at being not fully in his wicked power and glory, and it was a cry too against his own imminent end. "
Darkness! Come
!"

A deep, monotonous voice spoke. "No evil comes to your aid, being of utmost bane. Will you accept the help I offer?"

"
Yes, yes! Whomever or whatever you may he, I eagerly accept your aid
!"

"There is the price of sharing. . .

"
To the fullness of your deserved honor shall I grant that
— " and then Tharizdun had to break off in order to fight again, for Gord had closed and attacked hotly when the new presence in the chamber became evident.

With a rapid and deadly series of cuts and thrusts Gord fought. The new ally that came to Tharizdun was one known to Gord, for it was none other than that entity that called itself Lord of Entropy. Even if the thing could lend no direct support to the black foe, the young champion was certain that the entity could somehow unbalance the situation, allow Tharizdun a chance of victory. Unlike the malign deity, Gord knew that the only real chance he had to stand against his terrible opponent was here and now. He understood all too well that if the Ultimate Evil ever roamed free, then it would be as if he were a mouse attempting to fight a tlger.

He took wild chances then, trusting to his speed, reflexes, and skill to save him from death. The great battleaxe did find its mark again and again, but no telling blow was struck in return, Gord plied Courflamme, and the once-fair skin of Tharizdun became a mottled patchwork of welts and little cuts that oozed gelatlnous blood. "Now, master of maggots, let's hear more of your whining!" he gasped as a particularly heavy overhand stroke hacked down upon Tharizdun's shoulder.

Reeling back sending forth a string of ineffable curses at the gray-eyed champion, Tharizdun tried to gain enough distance to allow his huge axe better play. On an intuitive urge, the archfiend suddenly dropped to one knee and lashed out with his right arm, arcing the battleaxe parallel to the floor at knee height. The spiked top of it struck Gord's armored legs, and the man fell rolling. Tharizdun Jumped upright again, and in the interval when his adversary was regaining his own feet, the being of Evil again caused his weapon to become two.

"
Where is the assistance
?" He shouted the words even as he leaped toward the champion. At close quarters, Tharizdun knew full well his small hatchets would have great effect, but Gord's agility would soon enough put the two at sword's length again. It was only a momentary advantage. Tharizdun had to have some outside agency lend him help!

Both wildly swung axes missed their mark, one fended off by Courflamme's quillons, the other going wide of Gord's left shoulder. Even as that happened, Gord's years of training as swordsman and acrobat proved their worth. He slipped under the taller opponent's guard, sprang away to Tharizdun's rear, and then cut sideways with a two-handed scything blow that had the force of a pirouette added to it. This time the blade actually drew a spurt of blood as its edge cut a thin line on the evil being's nearly impervious flesh. "You may be the greatest of all netherbeings, maggot; but you are a poor fighter!" Gord panted as he again circled to gain a position that both prevented Tharizdun from attaining the door and kept the deity of Evil at a distance.