Umber

The party takes on an avatar of Tiamat and destroys Orcus’ most prized possession.

A middle-aged man with an expensive lute of, if anyone with magical sight had been witness, nearly blinding arcane properties slung across his back winked into existence in a plain room containing nothing but a chest. Taking the instrument in hand, he played a few measures of an eerie piece of music, then pulled out of his pack a tall, slender-necked bottle filled with a deep ruby liquid and waited.

“Music to soothe the savage beast?” a gruff voice asked as the speaker emerged from an adjoining room.

The man smiled and extended the bottle. “You’ve yet to install a proper bell, and I hate to arrive unannounced. But as for soothing charms, I thought this might be more helpful.”

The creature – it could not be called precisely a man – took the proferred item, studied its label, then raised an eyebrow at the man facing him. ”Greyknob’s Old Flinty 80 Year Tawny? You’re not here to try out a new ballad.” Still, he gestured toward the place from which he had come, and followed the man into a well-appointed library.

”After all these years, I’m too transparent to you, Klavicus,” the man said.

The demon snorted. “You’re not transparent to anyone, I think. Except perhaps that elven consort of yours, and I doubt even that.”      

”Don’t let T’lar hear you call her that,” his companion laughed as he settled in by the fire. “She sees the relationship as very much the other way around. She is the queen, and I her humble musician.”

“Yes, but vision, its lack or its skewing, is a dangerous thing.” The balor finished pouring two servings of wine, but before he could offer one to his guest the glass floated off the sideboard and into the man’s hand. Klavicus shook his head. ”That may make you the life of parties, but in some circles it would be the death of you.”

The bard raised his glass in a toast. ”Here’s to discretion, which has never failed either of us fatally yet. As for vision, I hear a certain demon prince of your acquaintance has recently had a hard lesson in shortsightedness.”

Klavicus nodded. ”So that’s what you’re here about, lubricating the vocal chords with a drop of the Old Flinty. What’s your interest?”

”Isn’t it obvious?” he picked up his lute and strummed a few bars of a discordant melody. “The theft of the Wand cannot go unheralded.”

Klavicus studied him carefully. ”You heard about that quickly. Some might say too quickly.”

The bard raised a defensive hand. “I confess, I have sources of information on the side of the thieves. But like you, my interest is purely academic. I know the item reached its destination but events on the Abyss are unclear to me. I wondered who might be acquainted with the facts and you came delightfully to mind.”

Now that the fire was more than purely cosmetic, the balor tossed on several additional logs. “What knowledge can one exiled demon possibly hope to offer?”

“Such coyness!” the human exclaimed. “Only bat your eyelashes at me and I think I’ll fall in a dead faint on your floor. But come now,” he added more seriously. “Your curiosity alone, if not, shall we say, more muscular motives would forbid a complete information void regarding those places of natural interest to you.”

Klavicus reseated himself. “Perhaps. You say you know what happened to the wand after it reached Celestia?”

”I do not recall mentioning a specific destination.” The bard’s face was a bland mask.

The balor smiled. ”But come now,” he said half-mockingly. “If you are going to flatter me with omniscience, do not then insult me by denying simple facts.”

If the bard was growing impatient, he concealed it carefully. “I take that to mean the Old Flinty is insufficient lubrication?”

“I would very much like to know the ultimate fate of the wand for, as you say, purely academic reasons. In return, I can tell you the tale of its theft, or produce an eyewitness if you prefer.”

”As long as it isn’t that tedious little mephit Dimwold. Every time I see him he pesters me for a star turn in an epic,” the bard grumbled. “I wouldn’t dignify that creature with a limerick.”

Smiling, Klavicus rose and refilled the man’s glass. ”In that case, I’m afraid you’re cursed with my poor narrative skills, Hanen.”

“Each to his own ability,” the bard replied genially, ignoring the demon’s answering frown. ”You’ve the soul of a scholar rather than a poet, but your style is not displeasing. And your knowledge of Abyssal politics is virtually unsurpassed, a bonus few could offer. Certainly not that wretched elemental.”

Even with his prodigious intellect, Klavicus couldn’t quite decide whether he should be insulted. Rather than consider the matter further, he embarked on a summary of events on the Abyss leading to the theft of Orcus’ wand. The bard was largely silent, although he interrupted a few times to clarify certain points in the narrative. ”So Dimwold didn’t know where the zombies were headed?” he asked as the tale wound toward its conclusion.

Klavicus shook his head. ”I do now, though. When Dimwold told his story, I found it odd that the adventurers would arrive at the castle and wait sixteen hours before emerging onto the Battle Arena. But apparently they were waiting for the zombies to reach their destination: Orcusgate. They launched an assault on the demon lord Glyphimhor and the city of wraiths.”

“Orcusgate,” the bard murmured. ”A fearsome place. I’ve heard that the very walls of the city slowly drain the life out of anyone unfortunate or foolish enough to tarry there.”

“You’ve heard truly. The zombies of course, beings of unlife themselves, were completely unaffected. Their onslaught was fierce, and unrelenting. Glyphimhor was forced to destroy the bridge to the city to halt their advance, and to call upon Orcus himself for aid. Orcus came, however reluctantly. The collapse of the mile-long bridge caused many thousands of zombies to fall to their destruction in the lava below, and between the two of them Orcus and Glyphimhor were able to obliterate the remaining attackers. But the bridge will be expensive to replace. Many wraiths were annhilated. And given recent events, there are those who may see the zombie insurrection as yet another sign of Orcus’ unfitness to rule. Glyphimhor suffered extensive losses of his own in the conflict, but even so if I were Orcus I would keep a close eye on him.”

“Isn’t that why the demon prince gave him command of Orcusgate in the first place, standing near to the castle as it does?” the bard asked.     

“Glyphimhor is powerful, and ambitious,” Klavicus replied. “He is especially dangerous to Orcus because he is one of the few who understands the secrets of the wand. It is believed by some that controlling the wand is sufficient to control Thanatos.” The corners of the bard’s mouth twitched upward in the briefest smile, but not brief enough to escape the balor’s notice. “What of it?” he demanded.

”It will spoil my tale,” the man sighed, “but your tense is wrong.”

Klavicus looked confused for only a moment. ”Then the wand…?”

The bard nodded. “It is destroyed.” 

The demon’s eyes grew perilously angry. “What tale is there to tell, then?” he asked. “I warn you, if I have traded my news for a cheat, I will not be pleased.”

“I am seldom mistaken for a sage, but I am equally not an utter fool,” Hanen replied mildly. “I have a tale, and I think it will entertain you sufficiently. You know that the wand made its way to Celestia.”

Klavicus nodded. ”Into the hands of that arrogant, avaricious being, Bahamut.”

The bard cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him described in quite that manner before.”

”Platinum skin? Gold attendants? A crystal castle adorned with his ill-gotten treasure like some cheap whore? What else would you call him?” He took a deep draught of wine and mastered his fit of temper. “Who presumably destroyed it. But for your own sake, you’d better have more to tell me than that.”

The bard continued briskly. “Being yourself a scholar, you are aware that the unmaking of powerful items of magic is not a simple process. Destroying the Wand of Orcus requires two items and a particular ritual. Bahamut had knowledge of the ritual, and the first item, a rare gem imbued with a powerful spell of destruction, was in his possession. The second item was not.”

Klavicus’ eyes glittered with the knowledge-greed that defined the friendship between demon and bard and paradoxically, Hanen sometimes thought, rendered him scarcely a demon at all anymore. “And the second item was?”

“The universe is defined by its symmetries and oppositions. If the wand was born by the blood of Bahamut, then it dies -” he paused expectantly.    

The balor finished the sentence for him. ”It dies by the blood of Tiamat. And since the gods, even the lesser ones, do not lightly intrude on one another’s domains, Bahamut the Lawful required agents for another petty theft.” He gave the bard an incredulous glance. “You don’t mean to tell me that the little ones have slain Tiamat? I would need to revise my estimation of them.”

The bard shook his head. ”Bahamut located an avatar and sent them to that.”

”Still, even to slay an avatar of Tiamat is no small achievement…”

Hanen shook his head again. ”Neither did they slay the avatar.”

Klavicus frowned. “You don’t mean to suggest they walked up to Tiamat’s avatar, politely asked for a spot of blood to destroy a powerful artifact, and she pleasantly obliged them?”

“No indeed,” the bard said, “although I believe they briefly entertained the possibility. Their strength is in strength, but also in wit, and a certain willingness to forego superficial glory in the name of a higher purpose. And so they sought only to bleed the dragon, not to kill her outright.”

“And how did they accomplish this?” the balor asked.

The bard’s tone changed as he shifted from conversant to teller of tales and Klavicus knew better than to interrupt him. “Bahamut offered to transport them initially far away from the dragon if they wished to attempt a covert approach, but after conferring among themselves they asked him to open an interdimensional gate as close to her as possible. ‘If we don’t achieve our goal in the first seconds of our arrival,’ Magnus said, ‘we will fail.’

“And thus was it done. Fortunately her chromatic coterie were some yards distant, and the party’s will stood firm against the dragon’s attempt to captivate them in awe, although for Enai it was a very close thing. She disappeared to a remote corner of the battleground with the Wand and the gem, awaiting a prearranged signal. Bane stood fast, waiting for blood to be drawn. Wasting no time, Magnus lunged forward and struck a mighty blow, penetrating the dragon’s infamous scale-tight protective shield. Then the bronze dragon Nightwing, who had offered his assistance on their quest, dove in with outstretched claws. The five-headed dragon’s tail whipped around and pierced his hide, drawing both blood and vitality forth from the wound. He staggered in unexpected weakness, and after clawing and missing reluctantly acceded to the adventurers’ wishes and returned through the gate to Celestia, already threatening to blink out of existence by the will of the goddess, for succor from Bahamut. Nightwing’s sacrifice was not in vain, however, as it permitted Serge to approach the queen of dragons unimpeded wielding now, borrowed from Enai, the greatsword Dragon Hammer which was found on the body of a dead paladin in that place of which the gods do not speak.

“Unaware of their true purpose, she seemed merely irritated by their audacity and apparently chose to save her most fell powers for later in the battle. For now, she contented herself with punishing the fighter who had dared to wound her royal person. Her heads launched a barrage of magic both general and very personal, battering both the fighter and those near him. Kuhlefaran deflected an attempt to bind Magnus’ soul, only to watch him to collapse to the ground after failing to evade an exceptionally vicious bite.

“To the adventurers’ amazement, a voice some yards distant shouted, ‘Not now!’ Bane’s head snapped toward the sound, and Psydney, startled into momentary carelessness, shouted, ‘Jake?’ The dragon’s attack unwound and replayed itself at the command of an unseen Grey Immortal, and although her jaws closed less forcefully Magnus still fell, unconscious and near death. He stood moments later, however, as at Kuhlefaran’s direction Psydney evoked the cleric’s stored power to heal those nearby.

“To their astonishment, they had survived the initial onslaught, although they harbored no illusions about how long their fortune would hold. Psydney once again wore down the dragon’s refreshed shield, and as she cut into the thick hide a strange thing happened. Apparently in response to some activity near whoever had arrived as an unexpected ally Serge’s sword, bane of dragons, began to howl. Crusader and Magnus’ weapons hummed in sympathetic vibration, to what end no one was certain until Psydney realized the wound she had inflicted looked unusually raw and ragged.

“Heartened by the sight, she, Magnus and Serge unleashed a furious assault. Seconds into a conflict that felt an eternity, Serge shouted joyfully, ‘It flows!’ Bane instantly began to cast a spell, and to the dragon’s great puzzlement the gravity around her midsection shifted its orientation. What were these mosquitoes doing? Could they possibly be so ignorant as not to know that dragons fly?”

“But as her blood drifted away from her in an impossible upward flow, the sign had been given. Dashing from her place of hiding, Enai crushed the gem in accordance with Bahamut’s instructions and released the spell contained within as she flew and ran. The dragon goddess, no doubt anticipating another attack, lashed out at the monk with her tail but Enai, her true destination still unfathomed by her opponent, dove beneath it and tumbled into the midst of the thin trail of dragonblood, the material component required to complete the now activated spell. She touched the Wand to the fluid, and after an explosion of blinding brilliance It was no more. Now that the creature understood for what purpose she had been used her anger knew no bounds, but the adventurers did not remain to feel the fury of her wrath.” He finished with a rhetorical flourish, “And thus was an item used over and over again for great evil on Oerth destroyed by the decree of Bahamut and at the hands of intrepid and doughty adventurers.”

The balor waited impatiently through a long pause. ”And then what happened?” he finally asked. ”There must be more. I heard rumors of a storm of gates opening from Celestia onto Thanatos, about the time these events would have transpired. Nothing even tried to come through; it was as though some demented solar were playing an interplanar blind man’s bluff with Orcus. The demon prince was not amused. And when he sent a large squad of balor to investigate a massive explosion on a nearby mountain peak, they were obliterated by hundreds of kirin, who appeared apparently out of nowhere and vanished just as mysteriously. He was even less amused by that, as his stock of balor is running low at an unpropitious time. And you know nothing about this? It strains belief to the breaking point.”   

“My, is that the time?” the bard said as he set down his glass and rose. “I must be getting back. Thank you for the wine, and the company, both charming as always.”

“Hanen,” the demon said very quietly but with an unmistakeable note of menace.

The bard appeared unperturbed. ”Klavicus. You asked for the fate of the Wand, and I have given it to you. As I’ve already told someone else recently, although I don’t believe she understood me either, I do not betray that which I love. I would not continue the story now though you sent all the demons of Thanatos to torment me. It is not its time. But rest assured that when the song needs to be sung it will receive its first airing here.”

The balor clenched his fists and stood towering over the bard. “You dance on the edge of ruin, mortal.”

”As do we all,” the bard replied calmly. ”Every moment of our tiny lives. But against the panorama of all knowledge to be gleaned from the multiverse, one story untold is as less than a grain of sand, insignificant, easily redeemed by another tale of equal or greater worth.” He gazed at the demon without fear, without insolence, without bravado, without any recognizable emotion at all.

Klavicus stared back at him and slowly unclenched his fists. ”In some circles that too would be the death of you,” he said. Without moving or taking his eyes from the bard, he added tonelessly, “I have tasks to attend to. You may go.”

A shadow of a smile crossed Hanen’s face. ”I look forward as always to our next meeting.” He traced a pattern in the air and departed the way he had come. Klavicus stood for a long time staring at the space he had occupied, absorbed in his private thoughts.