Gary Gygax - Dance of Demons

"As has always been," Tharizdun agreed.

The archfiend walked toward Gord, coming with slow and measured tread. Each step made him rise, and after but a handful of paces Tharizdun strode over a solid, if stinking, surface toward his motionless adversary. Gord shifted Courflamme slightly, readying for some attack from the monster who opposed him.

"Oh, no. Do not think so ill of me, dearest champion! Although I mourn the loss of my poor yeth as much as you grieve for your associates, I believe in fair hay. I came to you, so you shall have first blow," he said with what seemed utmost sincerity. Then Tharizdun spread his arms, palms down. Naked and bearing no arms, he advanced several more slow steps. "There. Am I not at sword's length now? If you wish, I shall move in closer — just command me, champion. Here I stand, naked and unresisting. Strike!"

Gord needed no urging. Courflamme came downward in an arc that met the exposed neck of the archfiend truly. Gord's whole body shook from the impact of the blade upon Tharizdun's unmoving form. Courflamme shattered at the stroke, its whole falling into a colorless powder that drifted downward as do ashes from a dead fire when disturbed.

As if reflexively, Tharizdun's right arm jerked around. and his open hand struck Gord in the same place the longsword had encountered the archfiend's neck There was a dry snap, and Gord fell to the floor of the cavern. His head lay at a right angle to his body, and only convulsive twitchings animated him. "Oh, my! Did I hurt you?" Tharizdun smiled as he spoke. The smile broadened, spread across his face, and behind it came the monstrous sound of Evil triumphant. "And so it is finished, and I am Master of All!" the archfiend shouted. His triumph abruptly ceased as he saw faint light surrounding his adversaries' bodies — Gord, the dark elf, Gellor too. "Entropy?" "I have destroyed the bands," the leaden voice sounded, seeming to come from the three corpses. "Stop, you fool! If you destroy those bands I'll — " Tharizdun clipped off his sentence there. It was obviously too late. The three dead were becoming as ashen as the dust of Courflamme.

"Now as to ordering things here, Tharizdun," Entropy started to drone.

The archfiend sent the ponderous presence a million miles distance with an irritated flick of his hand. Here was a war he could truly enjoy!

There might have been serious bickering indeed, had not the butler intervened. As often, the maids had spent too much time in gossip, and too little in preparation for the great occasion. Even the head cook had become involved in whatever little dispute the maids had entered.

Time to put a stop to this, thought the butler. "No more from either of you, hear? There's too much work to be done in short time for such wagging of tongues and wasting of energies, I'll have you know. If any of you have extra energy, I'll be happy to assign you tasks in my buttery. ."

The maids sniffed, but busied themselves nonetheless. The head cook bustled away without comment either, though muttering something under her breath, as she went, about having to fix dainties for a thousand. In truth the kitchens were in something approaching an uproar, and drink as the guests might, food would be more in demand than wine, ale or spirits in the immediate future.

Soon after the arrival of the butler, others of the palace's officers drifted in. Steward, chamberlain, constable, sergeant-at-arms, chancellor, and even the keeper of the wardrobe were soon gathered in the great room. Then usher, porter, and verderer joined in the conference. "Is it true that all five of the Kings of Avillon are to be here?" one of their number asked.

The steward ticked them off by rote: "Albion, Caledonia, Cymru, Hybernia, Lyonnesse — yes, ail of them, and soon too."

The porter, being perhaps the least experienced of the palace officials, was agog at that. "All the way from those strange kingdoms to Hy Brazeal! For as strange a union — "

The chancellor shushed the fellow instantly. "Speak no ill of your betters!" The porter tried to become inconspicuous, and the talk circled quickly to other subjects. Then the knot of functionaries dissolved, for there was a myriad of things to accomplish and only a few hours left for them to manage their tasks. Even with staffs varying in size from only a handful, in the case of the porter, to the steward's scores, there never seemed to be enough hands.

"He comes!" an equerry said hastily. The uproar of preparation increased at those words, then suddenly calmed to become an almost orchestrated movement like a dance. Guards snapped to attention, servitors stood ready, and all but the most important of ministerial and domestic staff found their assigned places and routine functions for such an occasion.

The master of the palace entered through the great double doors of the hall. "All is in readiness. Your Sagacity," the steward pronounced.

As if there might be some untruth in his servant's assertion, the master surveyed things around most carefully. Finally, after a long scrutiny, he agreed. "Very good. Major domo, place the household under the supervision of the seneschal. He shall have to miss the rite, but some must. . "

"Of course, sagacity. I will repair to the chapel immediately to see that the other officers are in their proper places." With a bow and smile of thanks, the steward departed.

There was nothing else for him to do but to take his own place in the temple area and greet the arriving guests, noble, royal, and those of yet more exalted status. Think of it! Well, upon reflection, he was himself now a "personage', one to whom even emperors bowed. The business of being Demiurge was still strange and a bit uncomfortable to him, but considering the alternative, there was no comparison. "I'll get used to it. ."

"Your pardon, Sagacity? I did not understand you properly. …"

"Never mind, third equerry. I simply expressed a thought out loud."

". . and join together in union inseparable for eternity the two great estates here come together. Now shall the King of the one bestow his kiss upon the Queen of the other," intoned the pontiff as he beamed effusively upon the royal couple before him and the great assemblage of guests seated beyond. Upon seeing that the proper embrace had been accomplished, the priest resumed his ceremony, voice resonant, obviously well trained for ritual orations lasting for what seemed an eternity to those little interested in such things.

Far to the rear and well out of earshot of the really important persons there, two young knights stood fidgeting and uncomfortable. "I can say one thing for our new lord," the taller of the pair whispered.

"What's that?" the shorter asked quietly.

"He can certainly stage one rousing festival!" his companion said with real enthusiasm. "I've never seen so much food and drink — and the ladies!" At the last word the young fellow whistled softly, and a nearby petty lord turned and sent a scowl in the direction of the two.

"Softly. . " his friend hissed. Then he smiled broadly. "I can but concur, though, brother. This new Demiurge of ours does things right. The whole of our land of Hy Brazeal is filled with tales of his grandness."

"That's so; and have you heard of his exploits? For a Personage, our Gellor is one tough man!"

"Not man, oaf! He is Demiurge! Tell me, from what kingdom does his name hail?"

"I have no idea. . Hsst! The garrulous pontiff concludes."

"… all ye present be ready to salute the Rex Felis Gord and Queen Leda of Shadowrealm!" came the resonant tones from the priest, and both knights sprang into a chivalrous stance as the smiling bride and groom were blessed and peals of music began to thunder the recessional.

In a distant yet proximate otherwhen and alltime, Proctor Chronos and Lady Tolerance turned from their viewing of the nuptials. "Would we could have explained all to those three good folk," Chronos said.