"That is a dispiriting thing to say, Gellor. You are becoming a detriment to this — "
"Leda! Please don't quarrel with our friend. You are allowing the archfiend his way when you do that," Gord said gently. "His question was deserved. It was also practical." The three had been chivvied and chased across the whole of the world. From the distant south, through the Moving islands, up and across Gonduria's vast continent, and thence across the Agitoric Ocean to western Oerik's shore. No fastness or barren or mountain chain had served to conceal them from the hounding of Tharizdun and his yeth.
"It is just a sport to him now," Leda said, picking up the thoughts from Gord. "Perhaps the bard is right as you say. Why don't we stay and face the archfiend?"
"That answer is simply stated, dear one," he replied to the elven girl. "We have been unable to bring our force into readiness. There are insufficient energies in the rings, Courflamme, us as well. To stand and fight so depleted is to invite disaster."
"Is there any hope of gaming the power you say we require?" Geijor was not mincing words now.
The question set him to thinking carefully. It had seemed that Chronos and Lady Tolerance had desated them there in demonium and afterward as the three had tried to find a refuge and restore their strength on plane after plane. They had failed, Gord admitted to himself, and had brought disaster to those who sought to aid them too. How many friends and stout folk had met their deaths because of them? Could he actually hope to achieve a state that would put them on a par with Tharizdun?
"I greatly overmatched the newly risen monster," God allowed, looking at his friends and shaking his head. 'If I had been less cautlous then, or had Entropy not interfered, the matter would have been ended there in the castle prison."
"That is apparent," Gellor said cynically. "The power you seek?"
The match was more even there in the Abyss. Entropy was locked against Ojukalazogadit, so it was Tharizdun and I. The force of the three bands tipped the scales in my favor. The archfiend was a thrust away from oblivion!"
The deranged demonking brought that hope to grief; now he is gone and we three face oblivion," Leda commented with ruefulness heavy in her voice.
Gord stood up. There is one place which might prove itself — a location capable of delaying the archfiend and providing us with the strength necessary to give us a fighting chance."
"You mean the city, I presume."
"Not exactly, Gellor. Greyhawk is the last center of resistance, true. The point of magical power is just outside it, of course."
"The ruined castle of the Mad Archmage?"
"None other. Once I delved into places there which tapped spheres beyond even the reach of Tharizdun — as he now is, I mean. Ultimate Balance impinges there, and the Lord Yang and Lady Yin manifest themselves there," Gord said with some enthusiasm. "The energy and negation I need for Courflamme could be gained there!"
Leda was ready. "Let's depart immediately. The sun is already sailing toward its nighttime sea, and with darkness will come the tumultuous hunt!"
"Would I could face those damned hounds without their filthy huntsman," the troubador growled, humiliated at having to run as a hare before Tharizdun and his netherdogs.
"I will lead," Gord said. "This offers at best a chance. Fully prepared, we will have only a slight hope. Parity was lost with a vengeance, and that opportunity will never again present itself."
Gellor arose to stand beside his two friends. "We three alone survive to fight. The remainder of the Lords of Balance are no more. If you can manage even a whisper of chance against the storm of the archfiend's assault, what matter? It is the only remaining avenue left to follow."
"It is one I have known of for a long time," Gord admitted. "I hesitated to use it because of what will come from our act."
Leda looked at her love, then at Gellor. "The destruction of Greyhawk the death of all who dwell therein and are gathered there. Is not in question whether or not you lead us there, Gord."
"Aye, that's so," Gellor nodded vigorously. "City and life therein are doomed, foredoomed since your rising as champion. Its central position has been evident always, though it is in retrospect we realize that fact now. Let's press on quickly."
Thus agreed, the three rode astride ordinary mounts across the woodlands and fields toward the greatest urban center on the Flanaess. The whole of Oerth was wracked by war, killing, famine, and disease. Here and there some pocket of near-normal life held out, surrounded by a sea of turmoil and slaughter. From one such shelter to another they rode, and in the course of the journey and avoiding the skyborne hunt that sought for their souls each night, their strength and power were drained further and further. Insane servants of Tharizdun ran rampant through the land, so terrible and perverse that brigands appeared as men of Weal in comparison. Wandering survivors, refugees, despoilers, crazed cannibals, and worse were frequently encountered. Whether ignored or scattered by the three, there was so little that they could do to help that the experience eroded their determination, sapped their will to continue. Somehow they managed, and near year's end Gord. Leda. and Gellor came to the low northern ridges that allowed them their first look at the last city of Oerth.
"It seems almost unperturbed." Gord murmured, seeing the river barges, and carts coming and going.
"Those riders yonder," Leda said, pointing away to the east, "and perhaps the dust cloud to the south too. betoken a state of tense waiting, I think"
"The comment was only a passing thought. I realize that even though the strongest of the Flanaess are gathered within those grim walls to forestall the fall of Greyhawk, no collection of men and more-than-humans too can fend off the archfiend for long."
Gellor scowled. "Our proximity will bring the matter to a head. Would it were otherwise!"
"Do we stop in Greyhawk first?" Leda asked him.
"No," Gord said. "That would be of no usefulness at all. The ruins of the sprawling fortress built by the Archimage are nearer to us than the city anyway. Let's make for them immediately."
In a short time the three located a faint trace that led them to the old castle. Although they passed through an unfamiliar gate, Gord's memory was good. The way to the depths of the citadel's subterranean mazes was indelibly etched in his mind. Before descending, they paused, ate a little, and rested. When the sun in the leaden sky was near its zenith, the young champion led the two into the ruins and downward into the central heart of the underground beneath.
At the bottom of a well-like shaft, Gord paused a moment. "I wonder what ever befell that self-seeking mage who first brought me here...."
Leda had heard the tale of Gord and Chert having to face the dangers that the greedy spell-binder had exposed them to. "Some just fate, no doubt. Thank him for his actions, though, Gord. You plan to use the knowledge he inadvertently lent you to foil the Ultimate Evil."
"Yes, so I do, dear little conscience. Between you and Gellor I get no peace."
The bard managed to clip short the words that rose in his throat. "If we don't. . ."
"Don't what?" his friend asked.
"Don't stop reminiscing like old folk and get to business.' Gellor substltuted, "we'll attract an unwarned audience for our further descent!" He had thought that peace would never come — obliteration at best an eternity of suffering in a half-aware state under Tharizdun's tender mercies at worst. Thoughts such as those were better unvoiced, and the troubador wondered why he had allowed a hint of such despondent considerations to be uttered.
"With our rings the process is almost no challenge. Come on, let's descend to the realms that exist beneath the actuality of Greyhawk Castle."