Tearlach (Chapter 13)

Template:Tearlach nav According to old fart #2, the Claw Vipers' power was assuredly broken by smashing the altar in their tomb. The dark gods they worship do not forgive failure easily, so destroying the altar broke much of their strength. Like all sorcerous things, Claw Vipers are weak and look outside themselves for power, making bargains with demons and the like. They revel in their borrowed might until they fail to satisfy the true power, and it is withdrawn... leaving them as weak and helpless as they always were. The desert people kill them whenever they can, but with the cunning of serpents they always hide in their times of weakness, and are never completely rooted out of their dens.

Satisfied that he'd never have to deal with stupid snake-men again, Tearlach went to put the wizard staff in his pack. Maybe he'd store it inside the magic box; it folded up so small, even with big things inside, it would make great storage. Those ancient, wise and mighty wizards never thought of such a simple use, he'd bet. Maybe he'd even carry the magic box around with him. When he opened his rucksack, there was more than the box inside; along with several axes were an assortment of runes, gems, and a note:

Mr. Bold McRunFast,

Congratulations on your advancement! Now that you're strong enough, we need you to do a little comparison. Put "strength" in the cleaver (that's Amn-Tir, in case you forgot.) The other is an Artificer's War Axe of Slaughter; put the rest in that, and see how the two stack up. For everyday use, the big axe is "Brainhew"; a cute little sorceress found that in Kurast not long ago. Try them out in Jerhyn's palace, but don't expect the girlies to be impressed.

-- The Mule

A destiny is a great and terrible thing, Tearlach realized. He was being swept along to his conquest of the Three Prime Evils, but debts were growing along the way. He'd been given many things, but had little to give back. The answer to this problem, of course, was more and more dedicated looting... which brought his thoughts to the palace. True, it might offer excellent looting, but the townsfolk would object, and he wasn't in the mood to kill them all. Nonetheless, the gods were guiding him to the palace, and a destiny as great as his could not be denied. He prepared the axes and went.

Lord Jerhyn was not inside enjoying his palace; he was out in the street with a couple of his guards. "Thank goodness you've arrived! It all began when --"

"What, stripling? You knew I was coming?"

Jerhyn looked confused. "Didn't Drognan send you?"

"Wizards do not send me about! I go where I please. Now it pleases me to go into your palace. You have something to say about it, stripling?"

"Only that your timing is excellent. How you knew I needed you baffles me, though."

"Uh..." Tearlach thought; Jerhyn could almost hear the gears grinding. "I have an instinct for these things. You would not understand."

"Ah, yes." Nodding sagely, Jerhyn leaned back on his heels. "I have spoken with Deckard Cain, who told me of the ease with which you seize upon ideas not obvious to those around you. It is... surprising to see. As for clearing my palace of the evil my brave guardsmen have been unable to expel, I am glad to find you so agreeable, mighty one. Of course, you will require compensation, so any valuables you may find intact within are yours."

Maybe this was why the heroes of the past did not like their destinies, Tearlach thought. Looting the palace would be a lot less fun if he had permission. "Erm... good. So, uh... what evil is it, anyway?"

"It all began when I was giving a visiting mage a tour of the palace. We were looking at the carvings on the walls of the deepest cellars, when he saw the ancient artifact."

"What ancient artifact?"

"In the lowest cellar, a pair of metal spires rise from the floor. They have been there at least as long as the palace itself; nothing we do can even scratch them. As a child, I used to use them for target practice. Since not even Drognan's wisdom could penetrate their mystery, I thought nothing of granting the visitor time to study them alone."

"So he found out how it worked," Tearlach grunted. "Never trust wizards. Never leave them alone with anything. Where I am from, we kill every last magic-slinger who dares set foot on our lands. None venture there now."

"My actions seem unwise now, looking back. I had no idea anyone could possibly awaken spells so ancient, or even know what they were. The mage was a Vizjerei, I believe --"

"One mage is like another. None are to be trusted. Killing them is the best thing you can do with them."

"I must differ with you on that. Drognan is the best advisor a ruler could hope for; he aids me greatly, as he advised my father before me."

"You ever wonder what killed him, then? I'll bet. Any wizard would love to be 'advisor' to a wussy little panty-waist of a boy who can't keep one house, let alone a country. I'll clear your palace; it's up to you to clear out the potion-peddlers and wand-wavers, if you've got the balls for it."

Shoving the guardsmen out of the way, Tearlach stomped into the palace. They were about to attack him when Jerhyn motioned them not to. "Lord Jerhyn, I --"

"Never mind. I said I would open my palace to him, I must do so."

"Weren't you going to tell him about --"

"Yes, but if he does not listen, that will be on his head."

The palace was a huge building, full of riches and luxuries. The chairs had thick padding, not just on the seats, but the backs and arms too! The candles were of beeswax, not a single tallow one burned in the whole place. The windows were covered with daintily carved grilles to keep the wind out. All the tables had daintily carved little legs -- what if someone kicked one? They would snap like twigs! Maybe these lanky desert-dwellers didn't weigh enough to need much by way furniture; they probably wafted into a chair without it noticing. Tearlach considered picking up some statues, or maybe silk pillows, before he decided he'd be better off ignoring the palace decorations. There'd be too much to carry. The city guard had their offices in a side hall, with a strange poster on the wall:

WANTED: Thaddeus

Height: 4 cubits and a span

Weight: Not given much

Eyes: Two

Hair: Shorn close

Sex: Um, don't they take vows?

Distinguishing features: Saintly glow

On charges of:

Littering

Proselytizing without a license

Barbarian abuse

Conduct unbecoming to a holy man

Reward! Call LGPD for more information. Keep our city clean.

Barbarian abuse!? As if! If he ever met this little religious pansy, Tearlach would hand him his head. No southlander could out-abuse the sons of Bul-Kathos. Downstairs, Jerhyn had a huge harem: it took up the whole floor! Tearlach had heard of such places, and Jerhyn's was everything it was supposed to be -- except all the girls had all been killed by the horde of demons still wandering around. Kind of a shame, really; junior couldn't possibly have any idea how to treat ladies right, so they'd all gone to waste.

While appraising some jewelry (most of the baubles weren't worth enough to carry out) it occurred to Tearlach that something was missing. Straining his keen senses to their utmost, he tried to detect just what it was that disquieted him, but couldn't identify it. Was it the scuttling of demonic claws just at the edge of his hearing? Something naggingly familiar in the symbols dabbed on the walls with human blood? An unmistakable aura of evil telling him that here a greater demon lord laired? No, he couldn't smell ale. Where the hell's that damn mercenary!? He forgot to drag him out of the tavern. He'd paid good money for a merc, he was going to get his money's worth!

Several of Greiz's mercenaries were wasting their lives at Atma's, as usual. When Tearlach came in, one dove behind the bar, and another into the kitchen. Like that would save them. After a round of "eenie, meenie, miney, moe" Tearlach and his mercenary were slaughtering the minions of evil in the palace once more. This palace had a lot of cellars, almost as many as the tower back in the Rogue's pass. Nobles are fond of basements, maybe for protection when the peasants whose backs they live on finally revolted.

The cellar demons were a varied lot, with skeletons, tall skinny ones, big fat ones, and weird green monkey-things with huge claws and teeth. All of them came from one place: on the third level, a pair of metal spires, warm to the touch, protruded from the floor. Something differed from Jerhyn's description, though: a round thing was suspended in the air between the spires' tips. Tearlach took it down. It was a disc with teeth around the edge, made of the same gray metal as the spires. When he replaced it, it hung in the air, wobbling slightly for a moment. That was strange; what could it mean?

"Try spinning it," the merc said.

"I was going to do that," Tearlach snarled. "What good would spinning it do?"

The merc shrugged. "It looks like a gear. Gears spin. Maybe it'll do something."

"That's stupid. It has teeth; I'll give it a drink of demon blood. Demons like blood."

The Gorebelly who donated the blood objected weakly, but Tearlach's arguments had a persuasive power all their own. The toothed disc did not react to the blood. "Maybe it needs human blood," the merc suggested. "Like a human sacrifice."

"Hmm... I know what the answer is."

"Yeah?"

"The war axe is better. Though the runes are strong, these gems give my axe as much strength, and it is quicker to strike. Their flashing fire appeals to the ladies, too."

Rolling his eyes, the merc replied, "I don't think ladies like skulls as decoration. That's more of a guy thing. What about the toothed wheel?"

"Put it back where it was, with blood. That should do."

The disc was restored to its place. Blood oozed slowly down the spires... and nothing happened. "Hmm..." Tearlach muttered, "this is a puzzle."

"Try spinning it."

"Maybe that stupid wizard knows something of this. No, the kid said he couldn't figure this out. It's up to me."

"Try spinning it."

"Ha! I put it in backwards." Tearlach reversed the disc; nothing happened.

"Try spinning it."

"Maybe if I put a demon heart on every tooth..."

"Yuck, man! Try spinning it first!"

"Are all you soldiers in these lands so craven? Spinning it won't do anything! Any fool can see that!" Just to prove it, Tearlach spun the gear. A blue gate quietly appeared between the spires.

The mercenary stared at the gate silently, never looking at Tearlach. Red-faced, Tearlach snarled, "So I'm not any fool."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Then quit not saying it so damn loud!!"

"Sure, whatever."

Through the gate was an impossible place, marble paths as straight as arrows, hanging in starry nothingness. Braziers of dark bronze burned with eternal fires, but did little to dispel the chill of the void sinking into Tearlach's bones. The trails twisted in directions that do not exist, that should not exist, wrapping back both beside and above themselves at the same time. This would be an easy place to get lost. Feeling nervous, he went back to town by a handy waypoint and got a loaf of day-old bread.

Everywhere they went, Tearlach dropped a trail of bread crumbs behind him, through the puddles of blood left after every battle. "This is an old trick, but a good one."

The mercenary looked dismayed. "We could just follow the trail of bodies back. Line the ghosts' skulls up so they face the right way."

"The demons could move them! I'll not be misled so easily."

"Look, the fireballs are frying those bread crumbs. It's not gonna work."

"Then I will follow the ashes. 'Tis better than touching those foul ghostly bones, or the undead sorcerer's empty brainpans. I've just about had my fill of the living dead."

"It's not like this place is that confusing, once you figure it out..."

"Enough back-talk! Warriors make war, they do not stand and argue! Stop arguing with me and do what you're supposed to do: kill!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

Tearlach hooked his neck with his axe and pulled him forward, slamming his nose against his own forehead. While he was reeling and screaming about his broken nose, Tearlach snarled, "Answer me with 'whatever' again, and I'll tear off your head and sh!t down your neck. We go. Now!"

Conversations were blessedly brief after that. In fact, the merc never said anything at all. Eventually, among the endless twists and turns, Tearlach found what he was looking for: an obviously sorcerous man in ancient robes, holding a staff of power. With a mighty leap, he launched himself across the void and came down hard, splitting the wizard's head neatly in half with a single blow. A fitting end. Once the place was empty, Tearlach looked for loot. There were a few things (nothing worthwhile, though) and a book permanently attached to some kind of decorated pedestal.

"Here, wizard. Reading for you."

"Hello," Cain said. "Should I ask why you brought half of a broken lectern with this one?"

"No."

"I suspected as much."