Chapter 23
“You must be eager for death,” a dry voice rustled, seemingly in his very ear, “to have overcome so many obstacles in order to embrace it.”
Gord spun quickly, his lamp casting odd, writhing shadows from his motion, his sword ready. Nothing. No one was near. The place was a high-ceilinged grotto, another natural cave of fair proportion. Here the stone was the counterpart of limestone on the material plane, for the grotto had shadowy stalactites hanging from above, thick stalagmites sticking upward from the floor, some of these two sorts of formations conjoined to make columns.
“It is a charming place, isn’t it?” The rustling voice spoke the question in a tone laden with mirth, as if it had a secret joke that could hardly be restrained. “Perhaps I’ll allow you to remain here as a special guardian,” it whispered.
“Imprimus? Where are you, you cringing coward?” Gord shouted his words, making the place come alive with echoes that trailed off, “coward… oward… ard… ard.”
“Heh, heh, eh, eh…” The sneering sound of a chuckle whispered throughout the stony space. It had no source, coming from no place and every place at once. “Be patient. I’ll greet you soon,” the voice rustled sinisterly.
Water dripped somewhere, shadow-water that made a plangent sound as it dropped into a shadow-pool in the underground lair of the vampiric lich. There was a faint hiss from the lamp’s burning, and the weird rays it sent out seemed almost to cause a susurration as they washed over the blackness of the grotto. No other sound could be heard. To leave both of his hands free, Gord put the lamp down on top of a thick, flat-topped stalagmite.
“Are you hiding, human?” the dry voice asked. This time, though, it was slightly louder, and there was no smugness in it. “You can’t escape; neither is there any place to hide. Wait quietly, and I will make it an easy thing for you.”
There was no reply, still no sound other than the hiss and the reverberating plunk of water droplet after water droplet. Gord looked and listened with ail the concentration he could muster. Did a darker shadow move within the cloaking gloom? Some shape, slide noiselessly through the dimness?
Then he could make out a faint rustling, coming from a place midway up the far wall of the cave, a spot some ten feet above the floor. There followed the whispering of cloth, the creaking of what might have been ancient joints, and a faint hum. Instantly thereafter, four small spheres j of dun-hued light winked into existence within the cave. These globes floated at waist height just before the opening that Gord had entered, but their sickly illumination revealed no trace of the young adventurer.
The four split in twain, one pair floating slowly toward the left, the other two moving languidly toward the right. The two sets of dimly glowing spheres circumscribed the grotto’s perimeter, making visible for a time anything that they passed near. Stone was all their dun radiance displayed.
A clawlike hand grasped the edge of a sarcophagus made of obsidian. The coffin rested on a ledge ten feet above the cave’s floor, and the hand belonged to its inhabitant. A horrible face leered above the taloned hand. The visage was as if a human skull had been distorted and misshapen by some hybridization with a monstrous bat, and then the awful result of the unnatural cross allowed to rot and desiccate in some demon-inspired crypt. It was the face of Im-primus, once human, now gloam, vampire, lich, wrought to true appearance by the weight of Snuff-dark upon the Plane of Shadow.
That the skeletal body that bore it could raise this gruesome visage thus, however, indicated that, the time of the great dark was waning. In a short span, perhaps mere minutes, the blackness would pass, and then the monster would once again command its full powers. The distended muzzle of the man-bat monstrosity opened to reveal massive fangs.
“So,” the dry voice rustled and whispered, “our little man has sought safety in flight after all.” Its bat-eared head tipped back to allow a hideous cackling to issue forth, but the sound died before it left the snaky throat. The thing’s corpselike eyes fixed upon a great clot of blackness above and suddenly glowed with putrid gray fire.
The snarling form of the young thief sprang down upon the monstrous creature in the sarcophagus. Instinctively, the thing recoiled from the ferocity of the assault. Twisting in mid-air, Gord used his gymnastic skill to direct his fall, and as his feet touched the edge of the casket of black stone, his legs flexed and his body hurtled past the vampiric lich into the alcove behind it.
The hideous face of the demonlike creature contorted in shock and rage at what had occurred. The human was a clever opponent, a foolishly daring one too. He not only dared to make threats, but even now was attempting to make free with that which the monster held most dear.
“Stop!” Imprimus meant the command to boom, but it croaked in dusty tones, for Snuffdark had not yet done with its gloom. Then the monster turned fully and saw what the impudent man was up to, and the glare of rage altered to an expression of concern.
“You are very clever and talented,” Imprimus said in its soughing voice. “You have earned my respect and approval. Come and pay me homage, and I shall accept you as one of mine own noble servants.”
Gord didn’t even bother to turn around. Before him was a heap of treasure, all jumbled and mixed. It was alight with a glow from within, faint but discernible. Somewhere in the mound, he hoped, would be a weapon that would enable him to combat the terrible power of the vampire gloam-lich. Imprimus was presently weakened by the tide of darkness, yet still too formidable a foe for normal means of attack to affect.
Ivory, amber, and jade flew upward and rained down alongside jewelry and great gems, pearl ropes and precious metals, magic amulets, and crystal flasks of dweomered fluid. Some merely spun and rolled, others cracked and splintered or smashed to send their contents mingling with the shards of a ruined ruby or the parchment tube of some ancient scroll of spells. Heedless of the wreckage, Gord went on, burrowing into the vast pile as a badger would dig into the dirt in search of a fat hare.
Bony fingers suddenly grasped his shoulders, long nails sinking toward flesh but foiled by the steel mesh of Gord’s hidden shirt of elvish mail. The touch sent a wave of chilling cold through his body nonetheless, and then the searing agony of long fangs puncturing his flesh made the young thief cry out in pain. “Be damned!” he yelled, spinning to dislodge the attacker and striking with his dagger as he turned.
The force of the stab caused the awful creature to release its grip on Gord, hissing in pain as it did so, for the long dagger had sunk deep into Imprimus’ right side. The thing stepped back then, glaring hatefully at the frail human who dared to strike it, meanwhile beginning the passes that would conjure up one of the manifold spells the monstrous creature commanded. “Now it is time for you to learn what pain is, manling!” the vampire-lich spat, its batlike face contorted. Then it made the swift passes of conjuration. In desperation, Gord scooped up a handful of the treasure from the mound and hurled it full into the bat-featured face of the Snuffdark-altered gloam.
“Reeeyaaaha!” The enraged shriek that emerged from Imprimus was the most bestial sound Gord could ever recollect, demon and dragon included. The spray of coins and gems had certainly had the desired effect, that was evident. The hail of objects had so disturbed and distracted the horrid creature that the spell was lost in the process. Meanwhile, Gord kept at his work, flinging stuff in the general direction of Imprimus as he sought a suitable weapon. There were, of course, any number of arms in the vast mound. Jewel-encrusted daggers, maces set with glittering gems, ceremonial swords and axes of precious shadow-gold-but all were useless for his purpose and thus ignored.