Gord The Rogue - Night Arrant Part 3

"We have pa.s.sed the Realm of Thought and my prize is aT but won!" Only the waiting Bocheiris, toothy maw agape, was there to hear the wizard speak, however. Gord and Chert had vanished.

"Did it!" Gord exclaimed in triumph. He was standing on the weed-grown paves of the ruined courtyard of Castle Greyhawk. He had hoped he was right, but until now the young thief hadn't been certain if envisioning this place and wishing Chert and himself there would actually work. It had. and now he and the ma.s.sive hillman could tramp safely back to the city, out of the nightmare realms hidden beneath the castle, with their spoils to be divided.17 "Okay, Chert." he said without looking around as he heard the barbarian exclaim with glee at where they now stood, "let's see the treasure you thought up!"

The next sound Gord heard was a sweet, seductive giggle. Then Chert answered him.

"Sure, pal, but we'd better think up a tub of water real soon. This pretty little mermaid wants to have a swim before dinner!"

46.The Weird Occurrence in Odd Alley -CROSS MY PALM WITH n.o.bLES, n.o.ble youth, and you shall have my best reading." With that the old Rhennee crone cackled and winked suggestively.

Chert snorted derisively, but Gord complied with the request, dropping a half-dozen silver coins into the dirty, dried-up old hand. The crone wrapped her clawlike fingers possessively around the treasured n.o.bles, and the payment quickly disappeared into the folds of her soiled robe.

"Read your rede, woman, and make it clear," Gord snapped. "At such prices, you should predict the future unerringly!"

The old woman's icy glare sought to penetrate the young thiefs soul. "Mind your tongue when you speak to a Wise Woman of the True Folk, young Gord! Remember, you sought out Old Annya, not she you!"

Gord shrugged but said no more. Mollified, the ancient hag brought forth a small leathern container that looked to be as old as its owner. She held the container in her left hand and, while making odd. jerky pa.s.ses over the top of the antique box with her free hand, mumbled in a high-pitched voice: "Take now the runes and slgils of your fate." Then she solemnly extended the mysterious container and motioned for Gord to reach Inside.

47.The contents of the leather coffer were not visible to the young thief as he reached up and inserted his hand into the box. His fingers carefully scouted the mixed group of small objects that seemed to squirm and twist away at his touch. Gord's forefinger and thumb played a strange game of tag with several of the elusive contents inside the pouch until, having grown tired of the chase, the young thief clamped all five fingers around a jumbled ma.s.s of jiggling mystery and extracted the mysterious mess from the box. Before he could examine his catch, however, the crone spoke again. "Now loose them, one by one - if you can!" she commanded.

Gord wanted to obey the old woman's orders, but the task proved to be much more difficult than he imagined. The young rogue fought to suppress a groan as he strained to do as he was instructed. The strange objects worked independently on their own behalf in spite of Gord's obvious wishes, each stngle-mindedly intent on wriggling out of his hand.

Chert perched himself on the edge of the bench he'd been offered as respite and watched with more than casual interest as his friend managed to hold on to all but a few of the squirming things clasped within his sweating hand. Old Annya called out the names of the falling components as Gord slowly spilled them: "Bauble! Skull and snake. Shoe. Dagger and stinger. Rat. Eye. Nothingness! Coffin, horse, torch - gateway!" Gord shook his now-open hand, but a small object refused the offer of freedom, seemingly glued fast to the startled rogue's palm. Old Annya seized the hand and peered at the last sigll there. The Fool's Cap!" she exclaimed gleefully, and then sat back in her rickety chair and, abandoning what small sc.r.a.p of propriety she may have possessed, cackled hideously.

48."Enough of this!" Chert spat impatiently. "Give the meaning, or return the silver!"

"Oh, yes! You both shall have your glimpse of the future, just as promised," the crone screeched mirthfully. She sat back, a self-satisfied look dominating her prunelike face. "Listen carefully now," she purred, gazing fully into Gord's face.

"You and your overgrown a.s.sociate" - at this, she paused, to throw a disgusted glance in Chert's direction - "have stolen something that many hold dear." She leaned closer and enunciated the next few words with purposeful emphasis. "It is of evil!" The old hag sat back and let her warning sink In before continuing her soothsaying. "Know now that you are hunted because of this. None you have spoken to will give you gold for the trantle - or at least as much as you two think your prize18 worth. You have sought a fence throughout most of Greyhawk, and come here as a last resort."

Gord was nodding as she spoke, but his barbarian companion was scowling. "Easy enough to guess, old bag. Get to your rede!" said Chert.

Old Annya gave Chert a look that was sufficient to wither a flower in first bloom, but thereafter ignored him and went on.

"There is a place that Is neither here nor there, but If you leave from here and go to Odd Alley, you will realize your fortune from what you have . . . appropriated."

The ancient Rhennee wise woman then sat back, gazing from one to the other of the two young men. Her face was impa.s.sive, but Old Annya's eyes fairly danced with malign amus.e.m.e.nt Chert stood up and moved toward the crone, his face clouded with growing rage. "If you want to play games, I'll show you games, you miserable old . . ."

"We leave now!" Gord said, using all his strength to pull the hulking barbarian away from his intend- 49.ed target and out the door of the ramshackle establishment. Peals of crackling laughter followed them out the door, but Gord continued to steer his enraged friend toward Odd Alley.

Odd Alley, an area within Greyhawk's Old City, was so difficult to locate that most citizens of the metropolis were unaware of its existence. Gord, a consummate thief, burglar, and swordsman, had spent many years in the slums of Greyhawk practicing his skills. He knew the people and the city, so many of the places within Odd Alley were not foreign to him. But one thing that was not familiar to him was an inability to dispose of loot.

Chert, on the other hand, was a woodsman from the distant east and as such was not entirely accustomed to Greyhawk's nooks and crannies. However, as Cord's friend and companion for the past year, he did know quite a bit about hardships in the wilderness, life-and-death battles, and now thievery, as it were.

And he knew Cord's code of ethics where thievery was concerned. The honorable thief took only from takers, swindled the dishonest, and stole from those who gained by foul means. It was a long-standing point of honor with the young rogue, one the huge hillman sometimes found hard to accept.

If there was occasionally a question regarding the line between honesty and fairness, Gord usually allowed his friend to make the decision regarding the prospect. After all, there were more than a few eligible marks in a city the size of Greyhawk.

"What are we going to do now?" Chert asked, his tone implying a sense of despair. "I told you that dark temple was no place for life-loving thieves to rob! If you had listened to me, we wouldn't be in this messl"

Not wishing to hear yet another lecture in what 50.was becoming a continuous series, Gord thought last He and Chert had stolen into the Great Temple of Nerull and had taken a reliquary of red gold from the altar of the sanctum sanctorum. This gem-encrusted object was worth a king's ransom - that is, If they could sell it. Gord knew that it contained a substance the priests of the grim deity claimed was ichor shed by Nerull himself. Gord also knew now that no dealer, collector, or fence in the whole of Greyhawk would even willingly lay eyes on the reliquary, let alone pay cash to possess it!

"Are your ears failing you, oaf?" Gord asked his comrade sarcastically. "Didn't I tell you Old Annya would know the answer? You heard her tell us how to be rid of the thing and be rewarded tool"

"I heard her say that dark evil hounds us. I heard her babble gibberish. That is what my good ears heard all too well," Chert responded, his tone a combination of anger and self-pity.

"Ah ha! She fooled you, then, old chum. That biddy is a mean and tricky one, I'll admit,'' Gord said brightly.

"Mean as they come." Chert nodded in agreement "But tricky? How so?"

"She speaks in riddles and half-truths in order to make the customers agree to pay more. We need not worry, though. Recall you the runes and sigils I brought forth?

Remember the gateway at the last?"19 "So what?"

Gord pointed to the dim end of the alley. "See yonder? There is the gate that shuts fast Odd Alley. Beyond must He our goal!"

"Hmmm," Chert said, doubt creeping across his rugged features.

"Come on! I'll show you," Gord said confidently. A few minutes later, that confidence was gone. The distant end of the alley, a place evidently shunned 51.CORD THE ROGUE.

by all living creatures, had its gate, certainly. The portal was old, iron, and locked. Knocking, banging, and pounding did no good.

"This cannot be," Gord said with exasperation.

"Horses.h.i.t!" his huge comrade sighed. "Let's get out of here and plan a Journey.

Greyhawk is getting too unhealthy of late."

"Will you allow a few a.s.sa.s.sins, noises In the night, and one locked gate to scare you off?" demanded the smaller man.

"Gord. If you call murder attempts and night daemons nothing, you're either a brave fool or a stupid oaf. And I'm not going to stand around here and ponder which of the two categories best describe your present state. I am going to saddle my horse and ride elsewhere - while I'm still able. You do as you wish," Chert said with an air of finality.

Gord had tried to make light of their peril ever since they had left the temple with the dreaded yet valuable relic. The young thief pretended it was little more than a joke because his comrade had'stubbornly resisted his plan to steal the Reliquary of Ner-ull from the temple right up until they had actually pulled the whole thing off.

Since then Chert had said little, but his expression spoke volumes.

Gord had noticed that they were followed after they had approached several fences who normally bought stolen Items such as the purloined reliquary. All of these so-called dealers were quite adamant about their lack of interest, and one of the proprietors had them ejected from his premises at first sight of the pair. Then it was evident that something was seriously amiss.

That same night they had been attacked by four a.s.sa.s.sins. As was customary, Gord and the barbarian had gone on an evening carouse, ending up at the Green Dragon. Because the dauntless duo picked up 52.on the fact that they were being trailed when they left the tavern, both feigned drunkenness, an act that probably saved them their lives. The killers were not as careful as professional a.s.sa.s.sins should have been. As the a.s.sa.s.sins sprang from concealment to strike, they found that their "drunken victims" were anything but disoriented.

Gord met them with sword and dagger. Chert with his great axe, Brool. When it was over a minute or two later, three of the four murderers were dead, and the fourth managed to escape only by luck. Both adventurers knew they had been lucky. The next time the a.s.sa.s.sins would be more experienced and much more clever. And the "next time" was not to be far off.

Congratulating themselves on their skill, Gord and Chert had returned victorious to the old stable they had rented and made Into an apartment. The two young men carefully barred the door, set various alarms and traps as was customary, and went to bed. They were awakened not long after by a loud clang and an awful, blubbering shriek.

A high window, left purposely unshuttered as an inviting means of entry to the place, had served its purpose. The window was equipped with a heavy bar of Iron that was set to crash into anyone attempting to come into their domicile via this particular route. The trap was set such that a body crossing the sill of the opening would trigger the mechanism releasing the iron bar. The pair didn't have to wait long for an unsuspecting victim to put the device to a test. Something had indeed entered by the window, and the Iron weight had swung like a pendulum, crashing into the ign.o.ble intruder.

The impact had broken the cord, and the bar had rung like a bell against the stone wall as It fell loose. Both Chert and Gord had rushed over to in- 53.vestigate. hearts in their throats and weapons in hands. One look at their "catch"20 was enough to make both men shudder. A horrible daemon, a thing with slimy scales and suckered appendages, awaited their arrival. Whatever it was, the heavy lump of iron had damaged it, and the daemon was still reeling when Gord and Chert entered the chamber. Sword and axe bit into the horror, and the adventurers managed to deal it mortal wounds before it could recover. Again, they knew that luck had been with them. Future visitors of this ilk would not be dealt with so easily.

With all this fresh in his mind, Gord couldn't blame his friend for wanting to plot a new course. He stared at the bulky barbarian for a long moment. Chert, arms crossed, jaw set and eyes narrowed in a "don't mess with me" glare, was the perfect picture of resolved determination. But Gord was not about to let him go without a fight. "You lose all claim to the prize if you desert!" He tried to goad the hillman into reconsidering, but Chert wouldn't budge.

"Well rid of ill And this Is far from desertion, my friend. It is definite self-preservation. You seem to have a death wish, and that is one adventure I'd just as soon steer clear of. And you're supposedly the, brains behind this partnership.

Hah!"

The pair stood glaring at each other for a full minute. But despite the harsh look on his face, Gord could not help but smile inwardly. The concern and determination written across the face of his comrade was touching indeed. It was obvious that Chert really meant exactly what he said and that he had no intention of allowing himself to be swayed. But Chert had said it himself - Gord was the smarter of the two, and he didn't earn that reputation by letting his hillbilly friend best him. As he saw it. only 54.one course, however devious, remained, "Then prosper and farewell. Chert, old friend, until our paths cross again," Gord said, his eyes beginning to moisten as he reached up and slapped the big barbarian fondly on his shoulder. Chert clapped Gord on the back so hard that the young thief was nearly bowled over by the blow. The barbarian then spun on his heel and stomped off. Gord stayed where he was. mentally whistling a lively tune while counting the minutes.

It took five minutes, give or take 'a few seconds - about what Gord had expected - before his overgrown friend appeared in sight. The husky barbarian's brisk stride, accompanied by a chain of loudly sputtered yet unintelligible curses, told Gord all he needed to know. The angry hillman stamped back to where Gord stood stock still.

"How can I leave a small and crazy man to the mercies of the followers of that dung-deflled Nerulr?" he cried overdrama-tically, arms waving madly about, frustration evident In every syllable. "If I am forced to follow death's road, at least I'll take many with me when I die! What now, my death-defying friend?"

Grinning boyishly. Gord slapped his comrade's hand and said just as dramatically, "Ever a stout friend!" Then he added soothingly. "Listen, Chert, there must be an answer! Old Annya said our goal was neither here nor there, but if we went from her place to there, we'd gain our fortune, right?"

"Yes," Chert agreed, nodding reluctantly, "that much I recall. But what good do her words do us when we don't know what they mean?"

"Well, if we couple what she said wilh the significance of the gale way ..." Gord stopped and added emphatically. "I'm sure it's the key!"

"So, what lies on the other side of the gate?" Chert asked, absentmindedly scratching his head 55.with the leather-covered tip of his dagger.

"How should I know?" Gord snapped, irritated at having his thoughts interrupted.

Then after a few seconds of silence, he said, "There are only a few places here that I can recall. There is the Junk store run by that miserly old half-elf Scriggin, the used clothing shop, Freedle's Librarium, the potter's booth, the Sunken Grotto Tavern, the money changer's stall. Green Wulfurt's apothecary, the crazy limner's place, Zreed's Antiquary - that's where we tried to unload the, ah, stuff - and the old warehouse and stable across from it at the mouth of the alley."

"But what's at the head?" Chert asked.

"The gate, stupid!" Gord shot back as he pondered the wisdom of having conned the barbarian into sticking around.21 Now Chert was grinning. "My point exactly! The gateway - and beyond It. The gate leads to someplace. Every place has walls, windows, and doors: Let's find the other side of the doorway and go in that way!"

"I was just about to suggest that myself," Gord said lamely.

"At the end of that pa.s.sage! See the dull gleam?"

"That must be it. Chert. Let's see," Gord agreed as he hurried into the opening.

It had taken them hours of searching, walking through the twists and turns of the mazelike lanes and alleys of Old City. A false turn, backtracking, a street angling in the wrong direction. They had even entered a few of the establishments bordering their destination with the intention of finding an excuse to slip out the back doors and. thus, reach their destination. But to their astonishment, none of the places had back windows, let alone back doors! And they had been not-so-nicety ejected from the 56.*

Sunken Grotto Tavern when they were caught painstakingly searching a back room of the establishment in hopes of finding some sort of exit.

They probably would never have located the area save for the fact that they happened to end up in Just the right location as the last rays of the setting sun illuminated the close and the pa.s.sage leading from it. The light gave a glimmer of metal for an instant, and the sharp-eyed barbarian was quick to notice. "It appears to be nothing more than the other side of the iron portal!" Gord exclaimed in disappointment after the two had conducted a close Inspection of the premises.

Before anything further could be said or done, both men heard soft footfalls approaching. Gord and Chert moved quickly, without sound, into the far comer of the tunnel. Was this yet another hired murderer? A cloaked figure was silhouetted in the opening of the pa.s.sage. No features of its face could be discerned, but the body was broad and short. The person went directly to the metal door, evidently not noticing that the pa.s.sageway was occupied. The iron turned phosph.o.r.escent when the figure touched it with something, and then the door was gone, revealing a dim s.p.a.ce beyond.

Before either of the young men could react, the stocky figure stepped through the arch and was gone. The iron gate reappeared.

"What the h.e.l.ls?" Chert asked in a hushed voice.

Gord squeezed his friend's ma.s.sive forearm.. "That is a most ensorceled portal, but it leads to where we must be! Come on, let's see if we can discover the mechanism by which that fellow operated If Neither struck a light, not wishing to attract attention. There was just enough illumination from the deepening twilight to serve their purpose. Us- 57.ing fingers, palms, and dagger points Cord and Chert carefully went over every Inch of the portal, but the rusted metal revealed not the slightest hint as to how it operated. No amount of inspection of the posts and walls to either side yielded anything useful, either. Even Cord's metal-penetrating dagger would not pierce the door. Both were ready to give up when yet another sound of footsteps came faintly to their ears.

"Let's take this one!" Gord whispered.

"High and low," the barbarian affirmed in a hiss.

The footfalls faltered and stopped. Could their intended victim be that keen of hearing? If so. he quickly satisfied himself that the pa.s.sage was free of danger because the sound of walking came again. Whoever it was had most likely merely stopped to look around before entering the pa.s.sageway, just as the first entrant had approached furtively.

"Now!" cried Gord as he flew through the air to tackle the barely discernible target. Chert sprang at nearly the same moment, taking the figure high in a crushing bearhug.

"Yaagh!" Gord shouted as the form he tried to hold seemed to writhe and squirm from his grasp. Whatever his arms were encircling, the sensation was like live eels!

"Bite me, will you?" his friend bellowed after emitting a surprised grunt. And this was followed by a m.u.f.fled thud and another exclamation from Chert.

Suddenly Gord was holding onto nothing at all, and something big and heavy fell upon his p.r.o.ne body, driving the breath from his lungs in a pain-filled whoosh. "What's22 going on?" he managed to gasp weakly.

The weight eased off, and Chert spoke. "I don't have the faintest, fluttering idea.

I hit that slimy son of a b.i.t.c.h after he bit me. It was as if I broke a pig 58.bladder filled with air. One minute I had him by the neck - I think. The next there was nothing there, and 1 toppled over onto you!"

"Deviled dung beetles!" Gord spat, clambering to his feet shakily. "This is some strange stuff we've gotten into."

In a flash of pale radiance from Chert's phosph.o.r.escent pocket stone, Gord saw only a pair of boots and a huge cape where . . . something . . . had been only moments before. He peered at the boots, held one up, and then dropped it "That is padded inside for no human foot!" he said with disgust as he quickly gathered up the cape and searched it. "Nothing," Gord informed Chert as he tossed the garment down, "but a faint and repugnant odor."

"1 still have a part of. . . it." Chert said flatly as he held forth his left hand for Cord's inspection.

"That's a tentacle," Gord said with a faint quaver in his otherwise smooth voice.

"A tentacle whose suckers still grasp a coin!" Chert retorted as he jerked the metal disc from the member and flung the extremity to the stone paves. "But it is like no other in Greyhawk," he continued as he inspected the shining bit of stuff.

Gord moved closer to get a better look at the coin. "It has to be the trigger! It has a hand on one side and a rectangle on the other."

"It is no metal I've ever seen before," the big barbarian agreed. "It is no real coin. How do we proceed?"

Thus," the young thief said as he picked the disc from the huge palm with his long, slender jfci-gers. "I hold the thing so that the hand faces my hand and the rectangle matches the gate. Then I simply touch the gate with the coin!" So saying, Gord matched action to word, but nothing happened. "Well, it seemed logical," he muttered.

59."Reverse the coin and try again." Chert suggested, seeming rather proud of this Insight.

"Right," Gord replied sourly as he turned the coin so that the hand lay upward.

"There is an equal chance that my first guess would be correct, and now I have a smirking lout telling me how to do my work. Here goes. . . ."

Both adventurers jerked back in surprise as the iron portal glowed, shimmered, and vanished, all In an instant. Although there was dim light beyond the archway, some mist or haze prevented either of the two from seeing more than a few feet into the area revealed.

"This must be some anteroom, perhaps a small courtyard. So there is a building between here and Odd AUeyl" Gord said triumphantly. "In we go on the count of three.

One, two, three!"

Gord sprang forward while Chert simply used his long legs to stride Into the newly revealed s.p.a.ce that the metal gate had hidden. As the pair entered; the mist swirled, darkened, and then disappeared.

"Back on Odd Alley?" Chert asked in a puzzled voice. The sudden dispersal of the obscuring haze showed a torchlit street before them. But the place they had just come from was no longer visible.

"Hey! I don't think we can leave the same way we came!" Chert said rather frantically, pulling on his friend's sleeve as he spoke. But the barbarian's lean friend was concentrating on what lay ahead, not behind.

"Never was Odd Alley so wide or so well-lit!" G6rd said, seemingly awestruck. "See there, gla.s.s lanthorns and glowing globes, too! Is there then a whole section of street - a mews, rather, hidden between those twin gates?"