Demons of the Dancing Gods (2 page)

kindred in this matter. Neither of us can afford to fail, and

both of us will suffer terribly if we do."

The Dark Baron nodded. The harsh and rugged land of

Husaquahr, dominated by the great River of Dancing Gods,

had never been totally conquered by force of arms and, as such,

it was the key to the domination of the entire continent. The

continent, in turn, was the key to the entire world, since a bare

majority of the Council of Thirteen, the most powerful necromancers

in the world, lived on it—including, of course,

himself. Control of the Council meant the ability to rewrite the

Books of Rules, which governed the lives and powers of all

who lived on the world, and that meant absolute control. From

this world, formed by angels in the backwash of the Great

Creation, Hiccarph and the minions of Hell could launch an

invasion of Earth Prime, an Armageddon that might well have

a different ending from the one everybody and every holy book

of both worlds predicted.

Of course, there was more to it on a personal level than

merely giving Hell a great advantage. Hiccarph might be a

prince, but as his sphere of influence was Husaquahr and not

any place on Earth Prime, he was a decidedly minor one in

the Hellish hierarchy. If Hiccarph could deliver this world to

his Satanic Majesty free and clear, his standing in the royal

pecking order would be second only to great Lucifer himself.

But Hiccarph was taking a terrible gamble himself. For over

two thousand years there had existed a compact between Heaven

and Hell, a reordering of the rules of their great war. No longer

would angels and demons walk directly upon the planes of the

worlds, but would, instead, act through intermediaries native

to those planes exclusively. Thus balanced, the minds and souls

of the worlds would themselves choose sides and do the work

freely and for their own motives. To break the compact would

JACK L. CHALKER /

be tantamount to a formal declaration of war, the second War

of Heaven called Armageddon, a war Hell did not wish to fight

unless it believed it could win.

And yet Hiccarph had in fact broken the compact and directly

intervened in Husaquahr. With his powers, unconstrained

by the man-made Books of Rules, he had built and backed the

forces of the Dark Baron and conquered over a quarter of the

entire land. They had been stopped, though, in a great battle

in which Hiccarph's powers were blunted by his inability to

act against the two from the other plane at a key point in the

battle, and by the subsequent skill of opposing sorcery and

swords. Because of that defeat, the Dark Baron's forces had

had to withdraw, and both the Baron and Hiccarph were in

pretty deep trouble.

The longer it took, and the more direct involvement by the

demon prince, the more likely his activities would be discovered

by his own king, who might not approve of such a premature

and unilateral breaking of the compact by a comparatively

minor underling. But the more open and direct Hiccarph's

involvement, the more the enemies of the Baron would be

strengthened, since those opposing Hell would be able to rally

all the most powerful sorcerers to their side—acombined power

Hiccarph alone could not block. Worse, proof that the compact

was being violated would raise even the hands of evil against

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the Baron—for who, living in decadent splendor and enjoying

the power and possessions that evil brought, would like to take

a risk on Armageddon, at which point their wonderful wickedness

might be destroyed for all time, when they had sure things

in the here and now?

"Those two saw you," the Baron pointed out. "Live witnesses

now exist that know you personally intervened."

"They are of no consequence," the demon prince assured

him. "After all, Ruddygore already knew. But the others—

particularly those who are already in the service of Hell—will

not want to believe. They will find the idea that any might

violate the compact unthinkable. Only if faced with proof so

clear and incontrovertible that they can not help but believe

will they do so. That's the only thing that's saving our collective

asses. Baron, but it's a big thing."

He nodded. "So what do we do about these two you can't

control?"

DEMONS OF THE DANCING GODS

"They are no longer any threat, now that we know their

looks and boss. Remember, while they are immune to me, they

are vulnerable to the Rules of Husaquahr; thus, they can be

easily handled by such as you. It is ironic, my dear Baron,

that, had you actually gone to attend to them instead of me,

we would have won. While my far greater magic was powerless

against them, you could have frozen them to statues or turned

them to toads with a flick of your wrist. Ruddygore is clever—

he foresaw in the Mazes of Probabilities that such a situation

might occur and prepared for it—but his advantage is now

known. Once known, his schemes are of no consequence. I

think we have seen Ruddy gore's bag of tricks. He will not

expect us to act again so soon, and we will not give him the

time to prepare more tricks and traps."

"You have a plan, then?"

"You still control a quarter of Husaquahr. Your army is a

good army, perhaps the greatest ever raised here, and it retired

from the field intact and in good order. In the end, it was

geography that defeated us, as it has defeated all past conquering

armies here. Even without the Lamp, we almost carried

the day, nor could our enemies mount a credible counterattack.

They won in the end because geography told them where we

must meet and they were there, well fortified and in the defensive

positions of their choice. Eliminate the geographical factors

and we will carry any battle."

"But how do you eliminate geography?" the Baron asked,

fascinated but skeptical.

"With me, you are the equal of six of the Council," Hiccarph

told him. "We have the power. Now listen, my impudent instrument,

as to how it will be used."

CHAPTER 2

VISITS WITH OLD FRIENDS

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The fairies may belong fully to no human orders, nor their political

parties.

—The Books of Rules, LXIV, 36(b)

THE GLEN DINIG WAS A PLACE OF MAGIC AND MYSTERY. THE

sacred grove of trees along the banks of the River of Dancing

Gods was but a few hours north of the great castle Terindell

at the confluence of the Rossignol and the Dancing Gods, yet

it might as well be on another planet. Legends abounded concerning

it, but few had actually seen it and fewer still dared to

penetrate its depths. Even those who scoffed at the legends and

tall tales nonetheless admitted that there was a strong spell on

the place; no human male could enter it, no matter from what

direction or means, nor male fairy, either. Only a few steps

into the tree-covered area and a man felt his breath become

labored and hard; in a few steps more, he would be gasping

for air, with the choice of suffocation or fleeing outside the

invisible but tangible boundaries.

Legend said that a great witch, a virgin power who was the

daughter of Adam and Lilith, had finally tired of the world and

its struggles and created this place, perhaps on the spot where,

a world away, Eden had once stood; and here she remained to

this day, never aging, never changing, in some strange and

wondrous world of her own creation, echoing imperfectly the

Garden she once actually saw so long ago. Exiled, as her mother

had been, to this new and alternate Earth, unable to die and

unable to forget, she was in a state where, at least, she might

not go mad.

Some said she was mad, of course, while others said she

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had transformed herself, and that she was not in the Glen Dinig

but rather was the magical forest now. All that was agreed

upon was that she was there, that her name was Huspeth, and

that even those who really didn't believe in her still feared and

respected the name.

The woman who rode into the forest confidently had a great

deal of the respect and awe that Huspeth and the Glen Dinig

radiated within herself, but she did not fear either the witch of

Glen Dinig or the forest itself. She knew them well, as old

friends and great teachers, and she owed them much. She did

have fears and concerns, though, and she dreaded this trip for

what to the superstitious outsiders would seem amazing reasons.

She was coming to ask of them that they separate her

from this wonder and magic forever, because she had no choice.

The woman had a strange appearance, both human and fairy,

with a beautiful, almost unnatural face and figure set off by

enormous, deep, sensuous eyes that no human ever had. Her

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skin, too, was a soft orange, and her hands and feet, with their

length and clawlike nails, were pure fairy.

Huspeth met her warmly at the small glen in the center of

the forest and tried her best to put the newcomer at ease. The

cauldron outside the hut where the white witch lived was bubbling

with grand smells, and Huspeth would hear nothing serious

from her visitor until both had supped and the sun had

vanished far beyond the trees.

Finally, by fireglow, the legendary witch gazed sadly at her

strange-looking visitor and sighed. "Well, my daughter, time

has caught up with thee, and thine anguish I share."

Marge smiled a sad smile and nodded. "I owe you everything,"

she said sincerely, "and I'm pained by this—but I can

put it off no longer. It's—well, it's driving me crazy!"

Huspeth nodded sympathetically and gave her hand a motherly

squeeze. "Already thou art burdened with living in two

worlds, not truly a part of either yet very much a part of both,"

the witch said soothingly, "That is a far greater burden than

any should bear, yet to live in three is impossible."

Marge stifled a tear, knowing that at least one other understood.

Two worlds and not truly a part of either, she thought

sourly. A Texas girl who'd failed at a career, failed at marriage,

even failed as a hooker and as a waitress, who'd hitched a ride

on her way to Hell with a crazy trucker drafted by a sorcerer

JACK L. CHALKER 11

to fight a war in another world. Joe was supposed to be here

in Husaquahr, at least, although he might argue the point.

Ruddygore had needed a hero not born of this world and thus

immune to the demons of this place and he'd plucked Joe from

Earth just before Joe was to die in a crash. She'd hitched a

ride with Joe that dark night, thinking of suicide and expecting

to make El Paso. Instead, here she was, in the land where fantasy

was real, the origins of all human fantasies and myths, across

the Sea of Dreams. And here the sorcerer with the impossible

fictitious name of Throckmorton P. Ruddygore—Huspeth had

taught her that none of the Council of Thirteen used their real

names, since knowing the real name of someone in their class

gave an equal opponent some kind of advantage—had sent the

hitchhiking Marge to Huspeth in the Glen Dinig, to be trained

as a healer and white witch. After the training, she had done

her job well and contributed to keeping the powerful magic

Lamp out of the hands of the marching Dark Baron, but there

had been a catch. The order of white witches to which Huspeth

and she belonged drew power from their virginity and celibacy

—and Marge had once again been virginal in Husaquahr

—but the more magic she had used or been subjected

to, the more she changed.

"Aye, thou art a changeling sure," Huspeth told her, echoing

her thoughts. "It is he whom thou dost call Ruddygore who

did this knowingly. Is there hatred in thy soul for him for this?"

She thought a moment. "No, not really. Not at all. Just for

a moment there, I was back on that lonely west Texas highway,

not caring if I lived or died. Without him I'd be dead, either

in that wreck or not too long after by my own hand. Whatever

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he did, he had a right to do. I've got no kick coming."

Huspeth smiled and nodded. "Thou hast learned much, my

daughter, and thy wisdom becomes thee. I do not much like

him, as thou knowest, for he trafficks in demons, yet his heart

is good even if his soul be impure. He had very good reasons

for bringing thee and thy companion to this world, and his skill

at the art placed you both in the place where you were most

needed. It may seem cruel to send thee to a celibate order and

then make thee a changeling, but I divine strong purpose in it.

Thy string is complex and far from played out. At first I thought

him taking a subtle jest at me, but now I see it is not so. He