Gary Gygax - Sea of Death

There were mailed men in the encampment, but Gord had no eyes for them. He counted three drow as well, but he gazed through his gray panther's orbs at only one of them. Only the edge in her voice and the mannerisms she displayed differentiated Eclavdra from Leda. Even those small things would not have been noticeable to Gord, had he not just come from watching her clone dealing with the marshfolk headmen. So this was the original, the terrible high priestess, the feared Eclavdra. She virtually radiated evilness but was gorgeous nonetheless, just as Leda was. But beauty meant nothing — if he could sink his fangs into her throat, and gut her with his hind claws, Gord would feel fierce joy… No! Those were animal thoughts, and he was here for more than such work. He listened and could hear Eclavdra issuing orders to the pair of small males who had evidently just come to her.

"Nighthand, return to the perimeter. See that these blind humans use what little of hearing and sight they possess to best advantage. We want no surprise inrush from front, flanks, or rear until I am ready."

"As you command, my lady," the cotton-topped male said. "I will take the two men still nearby out with me when I go."

"Do just so… now!"

The drow male flitted away like a wraith, and Eclavdra then addressed, herself to the second one. "You, my dear Wickert, are not so expendable as he," she told the fellow, with a small gesture to indicate clearly that she referred to the departed Night-hand. "While he serves to sound an alarm, you must hasten to restore what you can of your magical prowess. If the enemy should prevail, you and I, Wickert, must be ready to escape with the… object. The others do not matter, of course, if we have that safely away."

"Of course, high priestess, but are we not in grave danger of being ringed and unable to make good such an escape?"

"Do not be a fool! Would I waste My breath with words which I could not support with actions?" She stared hard as she spoke, and the male lowered his eyes quickly, not daring to answer. Satisfied, Eclavdra spoke on, hurriedly now. "Then do as I've ordered, but come to Me at the first sign of trouble. I withdraw to make certain that no man — or foul dwarf — can interpose between our path and this place. In but two days we will have companies of soldiers… Roast Obmi's shriveled gonads!"

Wickert was backing away as Eclavdra spoke. The dark elf had no desire to be around if Eclavdra worked herself into a fury. That was how it seemed to Gord as he watched the tableau unseen in the undergrowth and shadows in which he crouched. When the little dark elf male had gone to his own campsite twenty yards distant, Eclavdra chuckled softly to herself as she unknowingly walked toward the place Gord-panther was hidden. The beautiful drow moved to where a few small trees and shrubs screened her from view by others — except Gord. As she glided to her sanctuary, he watched and followed her cautiously, making sure that her elven senses did not pick up a trace of his nearness. As soon as he was in position to see whatever she did, Gord sank down to watch as Eclavdra went to work.

The high priestess was traveling light, or at least it seemed that way at first. But then her small backpack began to yield a surprising amount of gear as she busied herself pulling things from it. It was quickly evident to Gord that Eclavdra had some kind of dweomered bag. Clothing, weapons, and many other things came forth from inside the pack. Then the drow breathed an audible sigh as she reached inside once more and grasped something. "There you are, dear Theorpart, object of My success!" she murmured aloud as she drew forth an oblong case of metal.

Eclavdra placed the metal box on the ground before her and sat cross-legged before it. She then took a number of other objects she had drawn from her magically commodious pack and arrayed them about, surrounding herself and the rectangular coffer as she placed each little object down with care. There was some order to her activity, for the things each seemed to have a desired location. What she was setting down in the grass, though, and why she was doing all this Gord was unable to determine. A crooning, wavering sound began to issue from deep inside the drow. Eclavdra had completed her placement of the little things, and now she sat motionless and brought forth the soft, barely discernible sound. It made Gord drowsy, and he had to blink to keep his eyes focused. He tensed his cat muscles, flexed his claws, and forced his mind to remain alert. The high priestess began faint body movements then, little swayings and noddings of her head. At that, Gord looked quickly down, concentrating on the metal box. It had a grayish color in the moonlight, but so did everything else under this light that did not give off its own illumination. Could it be copper? No, it was too light a hue. Silver? No, too dark. Tin? Eclavdra had seemed to move it more carefully than a chest of tin would be handled. Brass? Possibly, or maybe gold…

His feline hearing noted a change in the sound coming from Eclavdra even as he kept his eyes and thoughts elsewhere. Now the drow high priestess had ceased making the noise that had almost mesmerized Gord and was whisper-singing some weird chant, a paean of a ghastly sort that made Gord-panther's flesh crawl. He thought the dark elf was now in the process of weaving some evil spell, and he dared not move, for that would surely alert Eclavdra to his presence. Why, Gord was not sure, but every one of his instincts, human and feline, screamed to him to remain undetected.

Little points of light seemed to appear in the air, dancing like minute fireflies above the strange ring of objects the high priestess had so carefully placed. Then the metal coffer began to glow with a dim, purplish luminosity. The faint chanting became more rapid but no louder, and then the movements of Eclavdra's body and arms became faster and more contorted, seemingly defying human, or elven, physiology.

Then suddenly the ritual ceased. Eclavdra halted all movement, and only a thin, sweet note came from her perfect throat. When Gord thought the note could be held no longer, he saw the dark elven cleric move slowly, so slowly, reaching toward the glowing box, the note incredibly sustained all the while. As her hands neared the coffer, the purple hue that it gave off changed, deepened, and became totally black.

Now every hair on Gord's sleek, muscular body was standing straight up. He knew that at any instant his cat-part would break through, and a growl of rage and fear would come from him at the same instant. An all-pervasive horror enveloped him. Awful, malign horror was about to be exposed, evil was about to come pouring out, for Eclavdra was intent upon opening the coffer and releasing that which she had summoned.

Inch by careful inch, Gord moved his cat body back, his panther-nerves screaming to stop delaying and bound away as fast as his four strong legs would carry him. Fighting for control, the human part of his mind forced his muscles to obey. As the drow's hands touched the metal chest, he was moving with utmost care, fully in control of himself both as man and cat. Then Eclavdra's extended hands did something, and the box came open, its lid flying back of its own volition — or due to some force from within the container.

When the scratchy, metallic sound of the lid's opening came to his ears, Gord could retain control of his cat-body no longer. Feline instincts took over, and his panther body obeyed them. With a spring and a contortion in mid-air, Gord-panther was facing the opposite direction from the terrible scene and racing away at full speed.

The human portion of his mind realized that there was obviously no chance to steal the Final Key from the wicked elf now. His cat brain did not care about such a consideration, simply wishing to put as much distance between itself and Eclavdra as it could. Gord streaked through the night in ebony bounds, making away from the dell faster than any normal leopard could have run.