"No, Leda, no! It is truly I. Look at me, read my aura, test my statements to see if there is any falsehood in them."
Rather than admit her inability to do so, for display of weakness was tantamount to death anywhere in the Abyss, especially here in the Soulless Sounding, Leda dissembled, pretending to test him as he had suggested, even as she secretly watched the approach of another who was struggling through the thick stuff of the place trying to Join the two. It would take several minutes, perhaps longer, for that one to arrive. There was little time to spare. She would make one more inquiry before using the artifact to blast the impostor from existence. "I see . . . yes," she said to the might-be-Gord slowly, screening her mind carefully as she spoke. "But what is the diamond and jet force which springs forth around you? That is not the aura of Gord of Grimalkin."
"Gord of what?" The strangeness of what Leda spoke set his mind racing. He saw the thing, a swirled sphere of blacks and almost-blacks with a glaring spot of hateful fire growing in its center, pulse and shimmer in her hands. It came to him in a flash. Leda was about to loose some bolt of energy upon him. Why? Had she become a true spawn of the Abyss? A soulless demon?
Never! Then it was something else that brought the dark elf to the brink of slaying him. That she cared for him radiated plainly from her. The cause was certain, then. She was suspicious, thought that he was an impostor. These things took but a splitsecond to enter and leave his consciousness. He realized that Leda was unable to penetrate the dweomers he had surrounded himself with, and the force of Courflamme too served to shield his actual nature, would not allow penetration of his being. Without hesitation, Gord let the sword slip from his hand. "Now," he said with open palms and love filling him, "seek again for Gord of Greyhawk."
"It cannot be!"
"But it Is, Leda! Don't you see me truly now?"
The beautiful features of the dark elf were drawn into a frown. "Yes. The energy of that weapon masked much — it hid your power! Never did the Gord I knew and loved have such ..."
Gord noted the uncertainty, seeing too the tiredness that Leda could not hide, the strain etched on her face. Not least from her stressful journey, she too had recently undergone much. In answer to her statement, though, the young champion said only, "I have changed and experienced change in the last year, but I am still who I was."
Leda shook her head, making her long, platinum tresses ripple. "Perhaps you are actually who you claim to be; but you are not the same one I left, for you now have within you .. ."
"An inescapable charge and a desire to succeed. Let that suffice," Gord interjected. "This is no fit place for us to be reunited, yet I am loath to move elsewhere until we speak further," he said to her, giving her a look and a smile that said far more than words could. Gord stooped to retrieve Courflamme as he moved closer.
The orb came up into a defensive position in a flash. "Stay back!" Leda commanded, uncertainty still plain in her tone. "Leave that blade where it lies for the time, and tell me who now approaches!"
He turned toward where Gellor labored to join them. The bard was moving as if he were knee-deep to water, but his pace was strong and certain. "That is my boon companion, Gellor, a troubador of Nyrond," Gord said to the drow priestess with a reassuring warmth. "He and I are both bound by the same oath to fight and defeat those who would loose the Ultimate Darkness on the multiverse."
"Stay, then, and we shall await his arrival," Leda told the young man firmly. She liked the distorted space no more than Gord, but determination made it bearable. Leda was torn between suspicious fear and the desire to throw herself into Gord's arms. She controlled herself with a conscious effort, willing her knees not to tremble. The feelings that had been just below the surface washed across her in a surge.
How much she had given up in parting from him there that day in the Flanaess, consigning herself to dwell in the horrid reaches of the Abyss, the sacrifice, the emptiness and the pain and all the rest she had endured came near to sweeping over the little dark elven woman. She had been strong, determined, able to endure the imprisonment because she thought it permanent, forever. Now her lost love, Gord, was here ... or was he? There was still the possibility that it was a trick — some ruse devised by the filthy cambion, Iuz. And even if it was actually Gord, was he the same Gord? Did he still love her as she adored him? And if all were as she hoped, how long would it be before the malice of this place, the evil weavings of demons and devils, parted them again? She swayed, and the light around her seemed to dim.
"Leda?" Gord said, holding her slender, mall-clad form to him as if she were an infant. Without warning Leda had suddenly fainted, and he had had to move as quick as a cat to catch the thing she had held and to keep her from falling to the caustic stuff that was the all-in-all of the Soulless Sounding. "Are you hurt? 111?"
"The Eye . . ." she managed to whisper, clutching feebly at it where it lay in Gord's left hand.
"It is safe. You can have it back as soon as you're recovered sufficiently to hold it. Never mind the damned thing!" Gord said crossly. "It's not important. You are!"
The strength of his arm, the sound of his voice, comforted Leda. At last she was sure it was Gord. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him quickly , then fell back, sobbing.
"Ah, hush . . . hush, now," Gord said soothingly, rocking the slight form as he spoke. Although couldn't know for certain just why she was so wracked, the emotion filling Gord was enough to enable him to share the pain and joy of the moment, to understand and be tender. "There will be no separation again — ever. Not as long as I live and you live, Leda my one love." He gently stroked her cheek caressed her hair as he soothed her, and Leda's crying diminished slowly.
Leda regained her composure but didn't move unnecessarily, content to have Gord hold her. Drawing herself as close as their armor would allow, and clasping him around his neck again, the dark elven girl asked, "But how came you to be in this forsaken place?"
"I am pouring out my heart in love to her, and this hard-hearted drow can only interrogate me in return," Gord responded with mock severity but not a little hurt.
"Forgive me, dearest one," Leda said, giving him a little kiss. "You see, I am consigned to this horrid sphere, but not you! I thought never to see you again, let alone to find you wandering through this accursed sink they call the Soulless Sounding. . . ." Then something else struck her. "How is it that you traverse this place? That you can survive in it is miraculous!"
Smiling, Gord returned her kiss with more fervor than was suggested by the situation. Finally he stopped and answered her queries. "The charge I have been given enables it, Leda. I have grown stronger, been imbued with power, too. Gellor and I now trek the Abyss — even the whole of the netherworlds if need be — to accomplish our purpose!"
"Which is ... ?"
Before Gord could say anything to that, the oneeyed bard arrived. "I don't mean to intrude," he harrumphed with a suppressed smile, "yet I fear I must. For one thing, I can't take much more of this place — I should have thought both of you would feel the same, too! For another, we stand exposed to any others who might also be plying this disgusting channel, and any capable of traversing it pose some threat to us. . . . So, Gord, this is none other than the Leda you have so often spoken of?" the grizzled veteran added suavely, approval in his glance as he smiled fully at the ebon-skinned elven priestess.
"And you must be none other then Gellor, a name Gord spoke often during our adventures together," Leda responded as she released her hold on Gord and stood erect. She was now composed and fully able. "I agree that we should tarry here no longer, although I think that none likely to pass would dare to trouble us," she concluded with confidence in her tone and bearing.
"Well, no need for me to make introductions," Gord said. "Here," he added, proffering the sphere to Leda as he reached for his own sword. "I think this is the object which makes you feel so invulnerable here. As for me, I'll feel easier holding Courflamme."
"That is a great and puissant relic of demonkind!"
Gellor gasped as his attention was drawn to the smoky-hued globe.
"Most observant, troubador," Leda responded, slipping the object into its protective covering. "The ocular you use in place of your natural eye . . ."
"Enables me to see much. That, and the other abilities I have recently gained, tell me that what you have there can be nothing other than the infamous Eye of Deceptionf"
Gord turned and stared at the slight priestess as she held the rune-worked bag. "Is what he says true? Do you have the greatest prize of Graz'zt there?"
"That is my affair," she snapped back. "What business of yours might it be if it were?" Then she was struck by the suddenness of their meeting, the change in Gord's aura and manner, the steel evident in his resolve to do whatever he was in the nethersphere to do. Perhaps she had been mistaken. People changed — even dark elven people, she had to admit to herself. Was his being here nothing more than another sort of trick after all? "You are Gord, but what is your real reason for being here?" Leda asked with measured words. "Have you come merely after this?"
"So many questions, so much doubt," Gord said sadly. "I am here to do but one thing. I am to locate each of the Theorparts, take them, and join the three fractions into a whole again." He saw the stunned look on Leda's face, but he forged on regardless. "It is wonderful to be with you again. I want you to come with Gellor and me in this quest Should you decline, ask instead that I go to some other place with you, I would have to refuse. Not because you are not the most precious thing to me, sweet love. The whole of the cosmos rests upon my poor, inadequate abilities. The ancient artifact of Evil must be conjoined, Tharizdun must be loosed, and I — we, perhaps — must face the vilest one and defeat him."
"Oh, Gord ..." Leda's large eyes were huge in wonder and fear at his words. "Such a thing .. . such is not possible. We're too small . . . too weak Why, the greatest of evils could crush the three of us in one hand," she whispered, as if afraid that Tharizdun would hear her speak and come then and there.
"Think again, girl." Gord's tone was harsh, the words sharp. "Recall your failure to recognize me. I am no puny opponent, this blade no mere toad-sticker. There is but one being alive to contend with Tharizdun. I am told it's me, and I choose to accept that at its face. Now, Leda, will you join me — Gellor and me?"
"We could use that thing's magic well, I think" the bard told her by way of encouragement, "and your assistance, too."
"But. . . my duties. I said to Vuron that I'd hasten with the Eye so that it could be used in defense — Graz'zt is ringed by his foes!" Leda concluded almost hysterically.
Gord was filled with a fury that made his eyes fierce and his veins stand out. "Vuron? I'll skewer him on this point as if he were a toad and this a sticker!" he snapped in a rising voice. "As for Graz'zt, I give not a fart in the breeze for him and all that is his. Should he get in the way of my path, I'll slay him too, demonking or no — perhaps I should make a point of doing that now!" He turned away, spat, then turned back and glared at Leda. "Do you serve demons still? If so, then begone!"
"Wait!" the level-headed Gellor said.
Leda was already turning back. At Gord's harsh statements, she had spun on one little heel and started away. Then she thought better of it. She was hurt that he could think so of her, speak so degradingly. "You are jealous!" she cried.
"Jealous? I'll show you what that means. Give me that cursed bag with Graz'zt's little toy in it! Hand it to me now! I'll personally take it to him. He'll get that, and more, from me."
"Easy, my young friend," Gellor counseled, grabbing Gord by his arm to keep him from brandishing Courflamme. "You might take off my head — or hers — with such wild gesticulations of that razor-edged brand of yours." Gord subsided a bit at that. "Better," the one-eyed troubador said soothingly, "much better. Give the lass a chance to catch her breath, take this all in. She came to this bedamned place for as good a cause as that which we now seek to fulfill. If Leda has some difficulty in so sudden a change, allow her Just a bit to make the adjustment, Gord. My rede is that this pretty little drow loves only one thing more than doing what's right — and that one thing's you."
Gord looked uncertainly from Gellor's face to Leda's. "I.. ." he started, then trailed off. "You . . ."
"So articulate," Leda said, smiling up at him. Gord was barely five and a half feet tall in his boots, but Leda was a scant five feet tall. Nevertheless, she felt as tall as he at the moment. "So powerful and manly in his ire," she continued. Now Leda felt better, for she understood Gord's actions fully. "I am swept off my poor feet, sir. Pray, do allow me to accompany you on this fell quest."
"Now you leave off, lass." Gellor said. Although the dark elf was no doubt a highly capable person, one skilled in the use of words, magics, and weaponplay too, the troubador felt easy enough speaking to her thus. He took an instant liking to Leda, trusted her, and felt almost as if she were a daughter, though Gellor had never had any children that he knew of. "Don't play with the poor fool so. He is a great and Just champion, a foe to be reckoned with. He's poor at this sort of thing, though, and you have him at a great disadvantage at this moment. Just be gentle now," he admonished.
"Hmmm," Leda answered, looking from Gord's flushed and stony face to the lined, weathered features of the bard. "You are a good man and wise," Leda said to Gellor seriously. "I take your meaning." She looked back at Gord and smiled. "I am sorry, dear one. I got carried away by the press, the suddenness of all this, just as you did. Of course I will be with you, stand by your side. What more could I ask?"
Gord relaxed visibly, and his grim look changed to one of happiness. "Come on then, Leda! Let's get out of this place — though I suspect wherever else we land will be scarcely less oppressive. We seek out the nearest part of the evil relic."
"What of Graz'zt? He isn't so bad as those who fight against him. He has been fair to me."