Formalities were dispensed with. All present knew full well who was who and what particular status was due from and to each respectively. None of that mattered at this time. All of those in the council understood that if events went on unchecked, the present course would lead to their extinction as powers, perhaps extinction in literal terms as well. The chamber was packed with the greatest powers of neutrality — eighteen with actual deityhood, twice that number of quasideities and other personages. Gord and Gellor were informally greeted, and discussion began immediately. Champion and hero were at the very least regarded as peers of these great ones. Perhaps they were above all, at least for the time being.
The three Hierophants addressed Gord and Gellor initially. "You have spent the interval well, we think" they stated in unison. The multitoned chorus sounded strange to Gord's ears even after hearing them speak thus so many times. "Through the years you two have devoted yourselves to Nature, to the betterment of all," the trio went on, directing the remark more toward the troubador than Gord, despite the fact that it was the latter who was championing their cause now. That seemed to make Gellor uncomfortable, but his comrade took no notice of the preferment shown. It was, after all, natural for the speakers to defer to the elder of the pair. "Our gift of welcoming is that of the mind. Three powers each have you now — speech by thought, movement by mind of your body to any place you can imagine, and the ability to become mentally invisible so that no other mind can find yours."
"Those are generous gifts, exalted ones. Gellor and I thank you," Gord told the Hierophants as they looked first at the one-eyed bard, then directly at him.
Then came a series of other similar presentations. The affair was both a ceremony of elevation and a briefing and arming of a force being assigned to fight the enemy. The honors and powers were given to allow the two the utmost chance of success — success on behalf of the lords present and all those who opposed Evil. And there was more to it than even that. The whole issue now included the continued existence of vitality in the multiverse.
The Shadowking gave both men shadow armor. It was seemingly insubstantial stuff, weighing nothing, interfering with no motion or act; yet the umbrate cuirass and gorget, the greaves and brassards were as impenetrable as plate of enchanted adamantite in all conditions except total darkness or glaring, shadowless light. With this armor and the other protections each of the two heroes wore — magical rings giving proof against attacks and magic spells, shirts of mail dweomered by elven wizards, and all the rest — the most puissant of devils or demons would find it near impossible to strike either man with weapons.
The savants of Oerth, represented by Mordenkainen, could give Gord nothing of benefit to him, but upon Gellor the ancient archwizard bestowed a strange musical instrument. It was a lutelike thing with many additional instruments attached to or forming part of its body. It had been recovered from some lost trove and restored by those great mages with the assistance of Heward, Lord Hugh, one who was most skilled at such things.
Rexfelis too was unable to gift anything further to the champion, but to the troubador he gave what he called "cat's paws," boots and gauntlets that had power of enabling the wearer to land on his feet, climb as a cat, and deliver clawed blows.
There was but little the druids could assist with, for where the two had to venture there was no flora or fauna of natural sort; no sun, moons, planets, or stars, not even the natural elements. Those other priests of Balance, however, could be of some help. They were the channel through which flowed to Gord and Gellor the grants of healing. Immunity from disease and parasite, knowledge of truth, and warding from foes.
Then followed various and sundry other presentments and powers, so that when the last of them were granted, neither of the two companions was quite sure just what they now were and what they could accomplish. "You are somewhat confused," the Hierarchs noted. "We understand. Although you might find it incredible, you may rest assured that we were once thus," the three chorused. "The whole will be assimilated, never fear, in due time."
"There is precious little of that," Mordenkainen snapped. "They need neither your collective anecdotes or my lecturing," he went on. "We must get to the last part of this whole business, and then let the two of them get on with it!"
"Somewhat abrupt, dear old fellow," Keogh, Lord Thomas, said, stepping in to stand between the Hierophants and the archwizard. "I was about to get to the last part anyway, you know."
Mordenkainen made a sour face and twiddled his fingers in a "come on, then" gesture. The master of muses fumbled around inside his robe and finally brought forth a roll of parchment and a rune-worked stick of charcoal. Gord and Gellor peered at the objects, wondering what Lord Thomas was about to do. "He has discovered something at last," the old mage supplied somewhat in sarcasm, seeing their uncertainty. "Tell them! Get on with it!"
"Well," the mystic fellow said, seeming to ignore Mordenkainen with the patience an adult demonstrates with an unruly offspring, "I suppose you, Gord, and you, Gellor, are wondering just what this is all about, my little show here," Thomas spoke as he laid out scroll and stylus. "It is automatic writing, and it comes from an unexpected source. . ."
As he said that, the rime-covered charcoal stick arose, point on parchment, and began slowly to trace out a line of writing upon the pale surface.
"Basiliv here, if only in spirit. Constrained as to energy, what I can relate. Rite of shielding against dweomers follows. M can do that. Gord, beware the conclusion of all Triumph!"
There then followed a series of glyphs and other pictograms, a magical shorthand which filled the remainder of the roll.
"How did you discover this sort of communication was possible?" Gellor inquired.
"We have all been seeking Basiliv, his psyche, for a long time now. I was trying to make notes on new avenues to try when the Demiurge himself took over from me. There's no credit to me," Lord Thomas said modestly.
Gord thought otherwise but remained quiet. He was wondering just what the warning about the "conclusion of all" meant. "Will you be able to restore his spirit and form?" he finally asked the master of muses.
"Doubtful, most doubtful," Mordenkainen interjected. "Especially now that he has revealed to me one of the most potent castings of the Omni Arcana Magna. ..." He trailed off, turning to look over his shoulder at a cohort who had advanced toward the scroll.
"Aha! I suspected as much!" the archmage snapped, covering the writing on the scroll quickly. "You are not mature enough, not ready for such as this. Tenser! Return to your proper place whilst I finish instructing these heroes." He remained steadfast in the face of a glower from not only Tenser but Bigby as well, for that worthy spellcrafter had also slipped in near in order to view the writings from Basiliv.
"Upstarts!" Mordenkainen muttered, then looked at Gord and Gellor. "In a day or two I'll be ready to confer upon you that degree of magical immunity which your own force of being can maintain — possibly only a trifling bit compared to what I myself will undoubtedly be able to retain. No matter, no matter! I have much to do now, so the others can amuse you." With that, the gray-bearded archwizard turned and left the assembly without saying another word to anyone.