Albric laughed with them, then produced the golden symbol of the Elder Eye from within the folds of his robe. The elf saw it and gasped. “You are the ones not paying attention,” Albric said. “The Elder Elemental Eye commands your obedience!”
Behind him, the one-eyed man started to protest. “Look here, I don’t know who told you—”
Albric spun to face the man and raised his arms. Dark lightning pulsed around the golden symbol like an extension of his heartbeat, and his voice filled with booming menace. “The Eye commands you! Heed his voice or die where you stand!”
The dragonborn fell to his knees without a word, and Albric heard the elf behind him do the same. The one-eyed man hesitated, and Albric started drawing in power for the invocation that would strike the faithless one down. But the man sank to his knees as well, an ecstatic smile twisting his face, his single eye wide with awe.
Albric smiled. Here was one who saw. The others followed blindly, but this man was a dreamer like himself.
“What is your name?” he asked the man.
The voice that came from the one-eyed man’s mouth was different. It rang out as deep as thunder in a vast chasm, and the whispers of the mad and the damned echoed in the empty air. “I am the Elder Elemental Eye,” he said. “I am the Chained God.”
Now Albric fell to his knees, staring in awe at the apparition of his god.
“My name is Tharizdun.”
Pandemonium
Joy and fury warred together within the shadowy substance of the Chained God. The key to his prison was on its way to his former domain, the isle of madness in the Astral Sea, where it would open the doorway and welcome him home. Freedom had never been so close; not in countless thousands of years, stretching back almost to the dawn of time. He could taste it, feel it in the minds of his servants who were planning the ritual. He was so close to them that he could almost feel the dirt beneath his knees as he spoke through his servant: “My name is Tharizdun!”
As close as his servants were, the other gods had servants of their own, who seemed determined to interfere. Pelor and Ioun, gods of the Bright City, were maneuvering their pawns into position. Ioun and Pelor knew the secret of the Living Gate, a secret that only he shared, of all living beings. Only the three of them had peered through the gate while its guardian slept, so long ago—back at the beginning of all things. Were they afraid that he would destroy the universe, as he had almost done before? Or did they fear the secret they kept?
It didn’t matter. The Chained God roared, and the void of his prison echoed with the sound, sending ripples across the liquid surface of the Progenitor. When he was free, the streets of the Bright City would run with the blood of its gods.
Nowhere entered the portal mere seconds after Brendis, but after he’d stepped through he found himself a hundred yards behind the paladin, racing along a crowded street in an unfamiliar city. Although the gentle rise of the street gave him a good view at least another hundred yards in front of Brendis, he couldn’t see the cultists they’d been chasing, No one was even running in the same direction, which probably meant they had left the main road and disappeared into an alley or side street.
“Brendis!” he shouted as he slowed to a jog.
The paladin shot a glance over his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice Nowhere in the crowd. He turned back and scanned the street ahead of him, and began to slow his pace. Nowhere turned to the street behind him, looking for any sign of Sherinna or the newcomers. No luck.
He scratched his jaw and scowled. Sherinna could take care of herself—she’d be all right. So why was he so distressed not to see her behind him?
Nowhere couldn’t tell whether Brendis, who had come to a stop and was now gaping around at the city, was actually looking for the cultists or just admiring the sights. There was a lot to see. The architecture was eclectic, and people of every race thronged the street. Nowhere jogged until he caught up with the paladin.
“What now, fearless leader?” he asked Brendis.
Brendis creased his brow and looked up into the hazy gray sky. “Am I crazy?” he said. “Or is there more city up there?”
Nowhere followed his gaze. He couldn’t make anything out through the haze, but as he let his eyes drift back down, he noticed that the street they were on rose gently and kept rising—there was no crest to its hill. Eventually it disappeared into the smoky haze, but Nowhere had the distinct sense that it continued up and around. Perhaps Brendis was right, and the city actually formed an enormous ring.
A few of the people who passed them on the street glanced upward to see what Brendis and Nowhere were looking at, but most continued on without breaking stride. But as Nowhere tilted his head back to stare into the haze again, he heard a chuckle from a well-dressed dwarf woman.
“Welcome to Sigil, boys,” she said. With a wink, she continued on her way, leaving Brendis gaping after her.
“Sigil?” he said. “Where in the world is Sigil?”
“The City of Doors, it’s sometimes called,” Nowhere said. “They say it’s not in the world at all, but it’s not in any other plane, either.”
“So you should feel right at home,” Brendis said with a wry grin. “We’re nowhere.”
Nowhere paid no heed. How many times had he heard similar jokes? Still, there was some truth to it. Sigil was a city unlike anything Nowhere had ever seen—bustling, alive, and evidently quite prosperous. It was supposed to be riddled with portals, connections to anyplace one could imagine in all the worlds of creation. If that was true, it offered unlimited access to anywhere Nowhere might want to go.
More important, no one had given him and his horns a second glance since he arrived in the city. He’d seen more tieflings in five minutes of scanning the crowd than he’d ever seen in one place in his life. This was a city he thought he could learn to call home.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked.
Brendis drew a slow breath and let it out deliberately. “I think we need to assume that the others didn’t make it through the portal in time, and it’s up to us to stop those cultists.”
“So we just abandon Sherinna and the others?”
“I don’t see an alternative. Sherinna can take care of herself. For all I know of her magical talents, she could be opening another portal right now. Maybe she did make it through, and got lost in the crowd the way you almost did.”
“I didn’t get lost. I came out in a different place than you did.”
Brendis shrugged. “Whatever. She can handle herself. And if the Sword of the Gods is with her, then maybe he can lead them right to us.”
“So we need to find those cultists.”
“Right,” Brendis said. “We know they’re heading for Pandemonium.”
“So we need to find a way from here to there. Do you think such a way exists in a place they call the City of Doors?”
“I have to imagine that’s why the cultists came here.”
Nowhere grinned. “Follow me, Brendis. This is my specialty.”
Albric closed his eyes, quieting his thoughts so he could hear the voice of the Elder Elemental Eye. The voice of Tharizdun, he reminded himself, and a renewed thrill of excitement coursed through him. Each time he remembered how his god had spoken through Jaeran, the one-eyed leader of Sigil’s little cult of thieves, he shuddered with a joyful terror.
Jaeran stood at his side now, holding Albric’s arm so he didn’t fall when the vision came. “Even in the City of Doors,” Jaeran said, “finding a way to Pandemonium is no easy task.”
“The Eye will lead us true,” Albric said without opening his eyes. He still didn’t dare to speak the name of his god aloud. He spoke it in his mind, though, imploring the Chained God to lead him.
Tharizdun! he called in his thoughts, and fire surged through his body. Tharizdun, lead me!