With the single Theorpart in his left hand, the dual in his right, Gord emerged from the luminous darkness of the strange space. "I am ready to go on," he said without ceremony.
"We do look most fierce and warlike," Leda said, trying to lighten the sudden despondency that seemed to rise to overwhelm them all. "It is a fine thing, Gellor, that you chose not to dally with some bit of fluff, else never would our panoply have been so sound again."
Gellor actually smiled at that. He had reason to be proud, for the shadow armor given to them, their elfin mail, and Leda's plate mail of drow manufacture too, had suffered splitting and puncture. The great wonder-workers, the mages of Kaalvahlla, were said to have wrought many miracles with their magic kanteels. Gellor, being a troubador, knowing the lore of bards and the sagas of skalds too, had taken the damaged stuff and set to work with his ivory harp during Gord and Leda's long absences. It had taken a little while, but eventually he had succeeded.
"Watch," he had said casually one evening. Then Gellor had taken up his kanteel and sung, playing an intricate melody as he vocalized. The links of elven smithcraft had fairly stood up and danced to that tune. They moved together, intertwined, knitted themselves into the life-protecting mesh that they had once before formed. "The dweomer worked into their metal is as whole as the mall," he had told his wondering audience when they had commented excitedly on his newfound skill. "That is the last portion not already mended. Tomorrow I shall attempt the greater complexity of Leda's black armor, and if I succeed there, the shadow plate should yield to my playing."
Perhaps Gellor's prodding for the three of them to be going on was in part based on the completion of the final challenge. His singing and strains from the kanteel as accompaniment had brought the shadowstuff into wholeness on the evening prior to yesterday. Now each of them was again fully clad in armor of the stoutest stuff, metal and magical in combination.
Gellor smiled at that, for he was justly proud. "Yes, just so," he agreed. "Fierce and warlike we are too."
"Let's not stress that too much, my friends," Gord said. He had no desire to dampen the rising spirits of the two, but felt obliged to remind them of the grimness which lay ahead. "It is to Tharizdun's donjon prison that we now trek Perhaps this stuff will be of service on the journey, but when it is time to confront the foulest of the netherspheres we had better not trust our lives to even such armor as this. One who is able to bring oppression to the multiverse is beyond such protection as the best of armors affords."
"Perhaps that is so," Leda said with a small voice.
"We shall see!" Gellor said stoutly and with ringing fortitude.
"Very well, then. The three heroes set forth to beard the greatest of devil-demons in his very den!" Gord shouted, picking up Gellor's mood.
They linked arms with a ring of metal, for even shadow armor has a faint, plangent tone that it gives forth when struck by magical metals. Then Gord used the Theorparts another time, and the three seeking Tharizdun vanished ... or perhaps they stayed in place and the pastoral sphere vanished from around them; the effect was the same. A deep reverberation grew from the sound of their armored members striking, and that belling sound accompanied them hence.
Chapter 15
FROM THE FAINT ECHOES of a deep gong to the melodious pealing of carillons of golden bells. No, not Just golden ones — bronze and silver too lent their music to the symphony of sound. With the music came a million million bright suns and stars, and each moved in stately time to some ringing counterpart, an incredible fugue and dance. "We traverse the Celestial Sphere." Gord's thoughts were awed. Speech, even if possible, seemed somehow improper in a place such as this, and the others took his lead.
"Glad I am that our quarry is not buried in the deepest layer of the netherrealms," the bard mused. "For never have I experienced such sights and sounds as these!"
"Shooting stars!" Leda pointed to a veritable swarm of comets. They turned and came toward us. Gord .. .?"
"I am uncertain of anything here, Leda. Perhaps they simply perform their prescribed measures — or possibly ..." Gord's thoughts trailed off as he saw other sparks grow into like things, comets on blazing tails that Joined the swarm and came flashing across the velvety blackness toward where they soared.
Gellor was definite in his assessment. Those stars shoot to interpose themselves between us and our destination. Do we have the means to pass such a blockade, or must we make a hasty detour?"
"They come so quickly, Gord. We must do something now, else the choice will not be ours to make," Leda noted. "What do we three puny mortals have to oppose such incandescent might?"
Gord caused them to cease their movement through space. "We live and breathe in this airless and heatless sphere," he told his companions with assurance. "We move at will, and it is toward our final goal. I think that none can stop us, be it comet or otherwise." He watched the score or more of blazing things approach ever nearer. "Let's wait and see what force actually ventures out to greet us." The revelation of that was not long in coming.
The comets shot near, the approach made more strange by the silence. No air existed in the place, of course, so there was no means for the noise of the things to be transmitted to the three heroes. "Why can't I hear them coming?" Leda asked. Gellor supplied the answer to that. "But we converse readily enough."
"By thought alone," Gord said. "It is by telepathy we speak."
Before there was time for further exchange, the fiery objects suddenly ceased their onrush and in a twinkling were transformed into something else. "Devas?" Gellor thought to his friends, the uncertainty clear.
"No, Man" The stern reply came from a shining titan who stood before the three in the nothingness of celestial vacuum. "We are the guardians of light. "Give us the Theorparts!"
All of the things that had approached in the form of shooting stars were now revealed. The three titanic beings could only be solars, the greatest of the servants of the empyreal planes. With each of these were four of planetary sort, and serving each planetar were seven various sorts of lesser devas. Each and every one of the beings was arrayed for battle, with armor so bright that it seared the eye to look upon it, and with a multitude of weapons ranging from bows of pure light to golden-hued swords.
"I think not," Gord replied calmly. "The relics which we bear are ours by right. You may not interfere."
"Right? Evil has no right! The very use of the term is a perversion!" the glowing being thundered.
"Yield the key immediately, or judgment will be harsh and swift."
The devas now formed a shining crescent before the three, and Leda and Gellor moved slightly so as to watch Gord's flanks. It seemed that the warrior-beings were about to attack. What could withstand these beings if they did loose their shafts of pure energy and attack with such resplendent arms? The mightiest of demons would quail before a single stellar deva, and here were sufficient numbers of the warriors of the empyreal realms to conquer the hells!
The fear was evident as it sprang into his comrade's minds. "Do not let the words of the solar being affect you so," Gord told them with confidence. "Remember the demon hordes we faced and defeated so short a time before. These guardians are not so potent." So staling, the young champion addressed the titanic deva who had demanded the key to Tharizdun's imprisonment.