"You seek unfair advantage," he called to his adversary, "But I also have a two-part weapon!"
That was said to distract Gord for the instant necessary for Tharizdun to alter the form of his battleaxe. The thing shimmered and dIvided. From the fission came two smaller weapons, each axe bearing but a single head, with each haft appropriately shortened as well. The relatively compressed space of the doorway would pose no great problems for such tools of slaughter. Tharizdun advanced with assurance.
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.