Chert immediately caught his friend's meaning. "Nor do we want your assistance. Dark Mistress, for then the White Lord would surety do his equal best to hinder us."
Making a moue of disappointment. Lady Yin gave a shrug and turned away from them at the barbarian's rejection. The snow-white Yang, in contrast, turned and came to them, a look of gratification on his face.
The two young adventurers had the measure of this place now.
"Let's get on with the challenge." Eneever Zig said.
The two rulers of the place looked at each other. "Dead to contest with the living?" asked Lady Yin.
"No, these men are too strong for such puny opposition."
"Actually," Lady Yin said, visually assessing Gord and Chert, "they are too weak."
"Allow me a moment to consider," replied Lord Yang.
"I won't consider it at all," Yin said in a definitive tone.
"Do as you wish," the wizard said forcefully, "but we are going." With that the gray-locked fellow strode off, his rusty black robes swishing. Gord and Chert were more than willing to follow him, so all three marched away toward the place where they supposed the exit to the cavern lay.
"We shall join you, yes?" asked Yang.
"Sure," Chert told the two. "Come along."
"No, we'll manage ourselves," Gord said almost simultaneously.
"A balance," Zig noted without expression.
Lord and lady stared hard at all three of their guests. "We will go along all the same," Yang said.
"Speak for yourself. I will stay," Lady Yin said.
It had taken an hour to walk to the midpoint of the hemi-plane that the cavern represented. But the trek across the remainder took only a minute, of course. It was disturbing because they seemed to be traveling no faster, yet the terrain slid past on either side as if they rode the swiftest of coursers. Very soon they were at a place where a dark arch showed where a tunnel must run. a gently sloping passage going through solid stone, leading down and elsewhere.
"This has been somewhat disappointing," Yang confessed. "But there is one bright ray of sunlight peeking through this otherwise cloudy encounter." Yang smiled and continued. "There is still the matter of balances yet to be made. Strangers, who will now go back to balance your going ahead?"
"You will!" Gord shot back at the pale man without thinking.
A male cry of rage and a female laugh of delight faded away in the distance as Lord Yang was magically sent back along the path the adventurers had followed. Lady Yin's mocking laughter could be heard all the way through the cavern.
"There are powers beyond them which even Yang and Yin must obey," the wizard said with a barking laugh, "and a good thing it was you stumbled upon the counter to Yang's plan, too. thief! I was fearful that they would have us contest with undead — balance between life and death, of course. That is why I left so quickly. By rushing them we managed to thwart that possibility, but Yang decided to accompany us to see if we'd make some slip along the way." Then he laughed again. "Now I know why, although I must admit, I didn't have it figured out until you had already acted on our behalf, thief. You're turning out to be much more help than I had dared hope." The wizard was obviously delighted.
"How did Yang's going back balance our going on?" Chert inquired as they moved along the hand-hewn passageway.
Eneever Zig stopped his harsh chuckling, but a smile still showed on his gaunt features. "Fool! Do you think one of us alone is enough to counter either of those two powerful creatures?" Eneever asked derisively. "Since Lady Yin chose to stay behind, although she did so to maintain balance, she actually threw it off, just enough to allow us to escape. Apparently the three of us going far are equal to one of them going back but a little. Balance was maintained, all right, but not the way Yang and Yin intended it to be." With that the wizard burst into uproarious laughter.
As they approached yet another cavern. Chert stopped and demanded of Eneever Zig, "Where are the treasures you told us would be ours? So far we have been lucky to escape with our lives, and there isnt a jot of wealth to show for it!"
"Knowledge is an unsurpassed treasure, barbarian. Consider how much you have learned in the course of this quest."
"Yes, we have learned never to trust spell-binders," Gord murmured to his friend. "That piece of knowledge alone will profit us in the end — if we live to escape this place."
Chert hefted his big battle-axe and eyed the wizard. "Stop that doltishness!" Zig commanded. "It will gain us nothing. Besides, if my information is correct, there will be material rewards for us ahead, so let us stop this idle banter and progress."
"Just what does lie ahead, Zig?" Gord asked.
"The cavern ahead is an extension of the Realm of Thought, and the final obstacle between me and my heart's desire. Once through, we will be ready to delve to the depths where it lies. Now follow!"
The cavern was a formless place where colors and shapes kept wavering and changing. Nothing remained stable, and it was impossible to determine directions once the three had gone beyond the place where they could see the mouth of the passage they had entered from. Soon it seemed evident that they were wandering aimlessly.
"This is not what I expected," Eneever said crossly. "I must ponder a moment," he added, and with that he sat down. Both young men were surprised to see that the wizard rested on an ornately carved chair inscribed with mystic sigils.
"The chair," Gord said aloud.
"Quiet! I sit on my special chair, nothing more. How can I think if - my chair!" Zig leaped up and stared, but the seat had vanished even as he arose.
"It was there an instant ago," Chert volunteered.
"Of course! Thought is the answer. I thought of thinking, and to think, I usually seat myself in the very armchair that appeared, so my strongest mental image was unconsciously that of the seat!" The chair popped back into existence.
"Which means?"
"Guard carefully all thoughts, thief, and you too, barbarian! This area is attuned to images of the mind, and carelessness can be deadly. Resume your usual vacuous attitudes, and we will have no such difficulties. Meantime, I shall intelligently experiment and find the wherewithal to defeat this obstacle in my path."
What the wizard commanded brought the opposite results, naturally, as both Gord's and Chert's minds considered the possibilities. First a huge chest filled with gold and jewelry appeared at Gord's feet. Fist-sized gemstones and glittering platinum pieces cascaded from the heaped coffer to roll and clatter around his boots. Then suddenly, rising from the mound of treasure, came the hideous visage of some demonic guardian, smoking forth and assuming corporeal form. There was a female cry from behind Gord, and when he turned a beautiful half-elven girl was there, hand at her throat, her face a mask of fear. "Save me from that monster, Gord!" she begged.
"Evaleigh!" the young thief exclaimed, spinning around in a full circle so as to face the demon again, now with his sword and dagger in hand.
At the same time there appeared before Chert a trio of armored men, Aerdians Toy their dress and armor, cavaliers by bearing and words. "We guard the Overking's jewels, and no filthy barbarian from the Flinty Hills can take them from us!" the middle one boomed, drawing a bastard sword as he spoke. His companions did likewise, but then two other hulking figures, both only slightly smaller than Chert himself, stepped forward to oppose them. It was to be an even contest: three axes against three swords, barbarian hillmen fighting armored knights of Aerdi. Wild-looking, buxom women cheered on Chert and his two fellow hillmen, while sneering nobles in regal finery sat behind their cavaliers and urged them to slay their foes. A pack of shaggy hounds snarled and snapped at leather-mailed war-dogs belonging to the civilized foemen. whose pavilions showed banners of many hues and various devices. Around these tents swirled a battle between a swarm of hillmen with bows, spears, and axes who sought to overcome a well-formed company of uniformed footmen protecting a squadron of mounted cavaliers. Both sides seemed to be calling for reinforcements, and wild shouts, trumpets, and bellowing warhoms sounded in the distance.
"Stop! Are you demented?!"
Somehow the shout managed to draw Gord's attention from his life-and-death battle with the horrible demon. He spun to see who was speaking thus. Chert, too. left off his battle with the plated knight in an attempt to determine who would dare to interfere with this contest. Both young adventurers stared at Eneever Zig, who glanced back at them. The three were alone.
"Look at me. Listen to me," the wizard ordered tonelessly.
"Wha-"
"No. Do not speak, just listen. Both of you were creating things with your thoughts — thoughts you were not to have! All of those phantoms are gone now, but they can return, and they can do real damage if your minds give them form, substance, and power. This place is a deathtrap for the unwary and the untrained; undisciplined minds have no hope of survival. Thank your lucky stars that I am with you. Now," Eneever Zig said, looking at each in turn, "can you count?"
"Of course," Gord said with irritation.
"Can you?" Chert shot back, equally offended.
"Excellent! Thief, you count backward from one thousand. Hillman, you count as high as you can, use your fingers for all I care, and start again at the beginning when you can go no farther — and both of you do your counting silently!"
The wizard seated himself in his strange chair again as the two young adventurers complied with his instructions. Zig's face was a study of concentration, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, hands locked on the arms of his seat. Gord was still counting backward when he noticed a faint rocking motion underfoot. "Seven hundred seventy and nine . . . seven hundred seventy and eight," he murmured under his breath as he carefully looked around to find the cause of the tremors. It took several moments, but then he finally comprehended the situation. They were on the vast, moss-covered back, of the largest turtle ever known. The monster was slowly plodding through the swirling void toward some unguessable destination.