Bel, Zerhal and the Sword of Law

Three days later, with Surya's new bow complete and tested, he and Hildraft began the process of seeking out experienced fiend-fighters to gain their advice. An obvious place to start was with paladins, those high-principled opposers of evil; they went to see Dran Trasutor.

Dran wrinkled his brow in thought for a while. "There is a splinter order of the paladins of Pelor," he said finally, "who specialize in fighting fiends. They're not a large organization, but they have a chapterhouse here in Thornal. They're called the Kyraura." He readily wrote a note of introduction and gave directions.

Making their way to the indicated address, the pair discovered an old and rather battered building, just off the district where the foreign temples congregated. They would have passed it by altogether were it not for the obvious training-yard at the side.

Outside the front door, a man was sitting in a chair, eyes closed, evidently enjoying the warm August sun. Grey and old, he had a scarred face, and the body of one who had once been a warrior. Battered armour covered his torso, and a sword as old and worn as he was stood against the chair. Both his legs ended just above the knee.

As they stood irresolute, he opened an eye and enquired their business. They replied that they were looking for the Kyraura, and he assured them that he'd found it. They identified themselves, handing him the introduction from Dran, and he in turn named himself as Alfwug Bonehammer, Precentor of the Kyraura. With surprising facility, he lugged himself out of his chair and into a wheeled contraption waiting nearby, and wheeled himself into the building, inviting them in after him. As he entered, he called out two other names, and two more men entered the main room from the other direction.

He introduced these to the companions as Draugus Yare and Inveros Moonflame. Yare was as old as Bonehammer, and blind; Moonflame by contrast was young, tall and strong. Bonehammer told their story.

Alfwug Bonehammer and Draugus Yare were the only survivors of the last expedition to the Hells mounted by the Thornal Kyrarua, in 1579. Twenty brave knights, led by the legendary Celdon Brond, set out. They were heading for Dis, but didn't get any further than Avernus, where they were caught by the forces of the Pit Fiend Hammerwrack. In the resulting battle, only Bonehammer and Yare escaped, through a Gate opened by the Pelorian priest Duradred even as he died. Since then, they lived in Thornal, training the occasional apprentice, but always exacting from them a solemn vow never to venture into the Hells, only to oppose fiendish doings on the surface.

Hildraft was a bit taken aback at the size of their operation; "You're not really a chapter, more a paragraph," he opined. "Why are you still maimed?" he continued. "Surely you have enough magic to have repaired your injuries years ago?"

Bonehammer grimaced, and Yare's blank face twisted with bitterness. "Paladins have tried; priests of Pelor have tried; but the wounds we bear are more curse than cut. They cannot be touched by magic."

Drinks were offered and served, and the two began to unfold their story, and their need for expert advice.

Sack had returned by this stage, and had met up with Greygill and Luregon. It was clear that the group was close to leaving Thornal, and he wanted to say his goodbyes, and to express gratitude and approval of the way the two Renders had performed. Coming from such an eminent member of the vampire hunter fraternity, this clearly meant a great deal to them. Sack suggested that they should return home to Karennal, but they pointed out what he had forgotten - that Kelson and the Renders who'd declined to be teleported would be arriving in Thornal any day now, ready to begin training the local Renders to an improved level of ability. Greygill and Luregon felt they'd be better spent adding their gained knowledge of the Imperial City to this project than in going home.

Back at the Kyraura chapterhouse, Bonehammer and Yare were considering what they'd been told. Surya's explanation of the danger posed by the release of Cain had been graphic enough that the battleworn knights were completely convinced that something had to be done. As the two questers had expected, though, the paladins advised strongly against a frontal assault, or indeed any encroachment onto Avernus in pursuit of the weapon. "You are far better off negotiating from this plane than bearding a devil in his own lair," growled Yare. The two old campaigners spoke for some time, descibing the awesome military might of the Nine Hells, and the deadly, interlocking organization with which the inhabitants reacted to any incursion. Unwise as normally was the summoning of diabolic creatures of great power, the veterans of the Kyraura were grudgingly forced to admit that the companions' plan was pretty much the best hope for securing the Sword of Absolute Law from the relative safety of the Prime Material Plane. If successful, of course, it would enormously weaken the powers of the armies of Avernus, thus furthering the objectives of the Kyraura.

During the conversation, it had become increasingly obvious that the young knight Inveros Moonflame wished strongly to participate in the enterprise, though his respect for his two teachers prevented him saying so. Perceivng this, Surya looked him up and down and asked bluntly if he was good enough to survive. "Could you kill the dwarf?" he asked, pointing at Hildraft - who, knowing Surya's sometimes rhetorical ways, said nothing.

Moonflame raised his eyebrows. "Haven't you got a difficult test?" he asked calmly. Surya glanced at Hildraft. "I like this one," he chuckled. Then his face grew serious again, and he looked back at Moonflame. "All right, you're on the team," he said, "but if you get over-eager and wreck the negotiations, I'll kill you. Understand?" Moonflame nodded, looking confident and unruffled.

Leaving the Kyraura, Surya and Hildraft met up with Sack at their lodgings, and sent a message to the Palace that they would like to meet with the Emperor if possible. An appointment was made for them in two days' time.

(Thornal, Erlyid Empire, 4^th August, 1601)

Ushered into the Throne Hall, the three companions were greeted by the Emperor, and treated with every courtesy. He greeted the news of their imminent departure with equinamity (they had benefited his city enormously, but they were also sparkers of trouble, and there had been enough excitement in Thornal lately).

"The Empire owes you a debt of gratitude," he declared. Sack grinned cheerfully, anticipating perhaps some rich reward. Heredatus signalled and a slave-scribe scuttled forwards with an armful of parchment scrolls, which he handed around. These were copies of declarations, carefully registered in the Imperial Archives, granting each of the heroes who had fought at the Jealous Wench and the Vintares Gate Citizenship of the Erlyid Empire; the right to vote for a Senator, run for Senatorial office, own property and slaves within the city, enter the Inner City, and (if they so desired) join the absutii [legions]. Sack glowered at his, and almost ripped it up, but Surya suggested with a glance that he might wait.

Imperial Crown Prince Crixus now stepped down from the dias to where they stood, and shook each hand, starting with Sack - who had, after all, saved his life directly at the Wench. "Farewell, my friends," he said. "You will always be welcome in the Empire."

Few things remained to be done. Hildraft paid their bill at the rooming house, unaware that Sack had rifled the owner's safe of considerably more than the dwarf had paid in. As they left, young Rolc appeared at the Surya's arm, as usual, and the companions bade the young rogue farewell, with geniune regret; they'd come to like the bold young street lad. Pooling the money sack produced with some more from the other twos' store of coin, they "paid" him as agreed - but rather more than agreed; a hundred thousand sestertii, along with a letter confirming his right to the money in case questions were asked. The boy was overcome, his usual insouciance pierced by this act of life-changing kindness - his future transformed in an instant from a savage and premature end in some grubby alley, to that of a wealthy citizen of the Empire.

Sack started, struck by a thought, and flipped through the scrolls of citizenship. Finding none for Rolc, he gathered the lad up and marched him back to the palace, where he demanded to see Prince Crixus again.

The bemused Prince was naturally happy to meet with his friend once more - he was knuckling down to some paperwork in his quarters - but eyed the scruffy boy with him doubtfully. "Did you forget something?" he asked.

Sack waved one of the scrolls, then pointed to Rolc. Crixus raised his brows. "I don't think I've had the pleasure?" he began. Sack grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and began scribbling. Once Crixus understood, he found a blank sheet and wrote out Rolc's citizenship papers on the spot. This done, he turned to Sack. "Your young protegé will need some training to handle his new wealth and responsibilities," he pointed out, "or he'll be poor again in a six-month. I'm sure I can find a place for him here in the Imperial Household; we have people here who can discover his skills and place him where he will do best." Sack looked at Rolc, who nodded, still rather dazed. Crixus rattled on as Sack turned to go; "... diplomatic service perhaps, or the Pulverae - or the legions of course, how does a military career sound - a few years' roadpounding would do you good... " That last didn't seem to appeal to Rolc much, but Sack was sure he would be fine, whatever happened after this.

More than twenty days later, the small group rode into the ruins of Dalbin, from where they'd launched their expedition into Orc-land two months ago.

On the road, the dwarf Hildraft had received a Sending from the Elven Mastersmith Elverandil, jumbled and almost incoherent, revealing the dreadful truth of the Elf Hammer. The monster had traversed the distance from Vorsand to the borders of Belamir in a little under forty-eight hours, smashed its' way through the defences, and was crushing and slaying its' way across the rebuilt elven homeland. Apparently the Elváthien were considering their options for opposing it; they were hesitating before calling on the Wrymslayers, and Elverandil reported they were pondering unleashing something he called the Seregath - the Blood Rage. He did not give details.

This news took various members of the group in differernt ways. Sack, of course, already knew, and cared little - he loathed the elves. The others felt some concern, mostly for Elverandil himself, who alone among the elves had really treated them as equals. Nonetheless, the threat of Cain was their highest priority; the elves would just have to cope on their own.

With meticulous care, they prepared for the incredibly dangerous procedure they were about to undertake. Hildraft spent an entire day carefully preparing the most appropriate spells in his repertoire, with extra power behind some of the most significant. He layered each of the companions with magical protection against fire, which their researches indicated was the most likely form of attack they would face from an enraged devil.

Sack excavated a foxhole, large enough for him and Hansen to hide in, and used all his considerable stealth skills to conceal it. When he was done, even Hildraft and Surya had difficulty seeing it.

Inveros Moonflame was deputised to guard the horses, placed at what they considered a safe distance; a hundred yards or so. Hansen would have been there, but he begged so desperately to be a witness to the events to come that they took pity (or, in some cases, decided to let him kill himself if he wanted).

Hildraft and Surya placed themselves ready, and took a deep breath. With infinite care, Hildraft wove the magic, and opened a Gate into the presence of Great Bel, Lord of Avernus, first plane of the Nine Hells. The portal spiraled open, revealing a gloomy thronehall with towering columns made of some eldritch stone not native to the world they knew. Enthroned there was a vast being of terrible mien.

Hildraft's arcane summons reached its' ears, and the huge scaled head swivelled to look. There was a timeless moment of hesitation, and then the huge being squeezed itself through the portal and into the world of Alair.

It straightened to its' full twelve-foot height, and the vast leathery wings spread out, blotting out the sun. As it stepped forwards, the grass crisped and blackened under its' feet. A flicker of hellfire crackled across its' shoulders.

"I am come; I am Bel." it spoke, in a voice like crushing rocks. "Mnmmm. I feel mighty souls; I look forward to welcoming them into my realm." It fixed them with a flat gaze. "For what have you disturbed me?"

Surya took a grip on his courage, and went straight to the point. "Your vassal Zerhal Avara has a sword, named Zero-One. We want it."

The terrible being threw its' head back in dreadful laughter. "A tiny request. Why not wish for my crown, or the Staff of Asmodeus himself? Why should I entertain your pitiful presumption?"

Surya launched into their main threads of debate; the danger of Zerhal gaining so much power with the sword that he'd challenge Bel and unseat him, and the equal danger of Cain's meddling with the Multiverse disrupting the Soul Harvest were he to be freed. He made a good and convincing case, but had forgotten one important point; devils have overwhelming egos.

Bel dismissed the idea that Zerhal could ever challenge him; "I gave him the trinket, and I can take it away," he said. As to the vampires; "Let them try!" he crowed. "Better than they have failed in the past." He turned to other possibilities. "Perhaps we can make a ... deal ..." he suggested.

"If my Captain is to be bereft of his mighty weapon, he should have recompense - otherwise my forces in Avernus will be fatally weakend. For the Sword of Law.... let us say, the axe," he pointed to Hildraft, "and those swords." he gestured to Surya.

"Very well," said Surya, and he appeared to mean it. "No." said Hildraft. "Fool!" he hissed to the Tellaran. "We need the Axe to break the Glarith Key."

"So." said Bel, dangerously. "Let us try again. There are some little trinkets I need from your plane. Easily obtained, a mere bagatelle next to the Sword of Absolute Law." He paused.

"The head of Elverandil the Mastersmith."

"The soul of Skufruss Lord of Dragons."

"The prayer-sword of Vollun Crusher."

The companions looked at each other in alarm. How did the creature know to ask for such things? Could it read their thoughts? Maybe... but no.

"I'm sorry," said Surya after a moment. "but we don't have a deal."

The hulking fiend looked slowly from one of them to the other. Do you mean to say you have brought me here, merely to waste my time?" he rumbled slowly and dangerously.

"We didn't bring you; you came at our invitation." Surya pointed out. Both rose to the balls of their feet, ready to sell their lives dearly. Under his camouflage, Sack gripped an Arrow of Slaying tightly. A moment of extreme tension passed.

"I am accustomed to payment for my time." said the devil at last. He lifted a hand, which suddenly held a ball of coruscating flame. With a flick of his massive wrist, Great Bel sent the ball hurtling across the ruins, at the same moment disapearing back to his own place.

The hellfire arced across, between Hildraft and Surya, and zeroed in on Inveros Moonflame. Releasing the horses - who very sensibly bolted - the paladin dived for cover. His flying form vanished in a bloom of roiling flame as the fireball struck.

When Hildraft and Surya reached him, he was lying in a heap, badly burned, dying, but retaining a flicker of life. With a touch, the dwarf healed him, as Sack unearthed himself and Hansen, and they took stock of the situation.

Clearly, their initial plan of persuading Bel to disarm his vassal had failed. Inevitably, once back in the Hells, Bel would warn Zerhal that there were mortals after his cherished sword; making their task even harder. If they were to succeed, they would have to move quickly.

They had two immediate choices. Go to Avernus and attempt to overcome Zerhal; or create another Gate and invite him to their presence, there to either persuade or force the sword from him.

There was no contest.

As the second Gate opened, Sack was no longer in his foxhole, but concealed just "behind" the portal, ready to approach the cambion on his blind-side. Hansen and Moonflame had been sent further back. Much further back.

The scene on the other side was greatly different this time. Instead of the austere and inhuman throne room, the portal opened onto a raging battle. Thousands of devils and demons slashed, tore, burned and savaged each other, and right in the middle, leading the army of the Hells, was the distinctive half-human form of the cambion Zerhal Avara.

Dominating the battlefield, the sinewey half-devil was clearly commanding the entire affair, while simultaneously engaging the enemy head-on with the Sword of Law itself. Gripped in both hands, Zero-One slashed and slew, reaping a dreadful harvest from the demons of the Abyss. Black blood dripped from Zerhal's own hands, as the sword resisted him and he paid the price of bearing it, but his face was exultant as he fought.

At first, he refused their invitation, brusquely declaring himself to be busy; but when they hinted that Bel was trying to sell him out, he delegated command of the battle to a nearby hamatula and stepped through the portal.

Far smaller than the mighty pit fiend Bel, Zerhal was not much taller than Surya, and wirier; but he radiated a malign presence that filled the ruins. "Make this good." he grated.

"Your master offered to sell us your sword for a pittance, for trinkets," said Surya. The cambion scoffed. "Pah! Prove it." he said. Surya pointed at the scorched grass. "See his footprints," he said.

Zerhal sheathed his massive sword in a back scabbard, and stepped forward to look. As he peered dubiously at the ground, Sack made his move.

Slinking forward while activating his Bulls' Strength, he reached the half-fiend without attracting his attention. Crouching, he sprang into the air, impelled by the force of his magically-enhanced muscles. Shooting up behind the cambion, his hand snaked out, gripping the hilt of the Sword of Absolute Law, and wrenching it from the scabbard. As he reached the apogee of his leap, he touched his Helm of Teleportation - and was gone.

As soon as he saw this, Hildraft reached across to touch Surya, and spoke the words that shifted the pair of them into the Ethereal Plane. As they went, they saw Zerhal reach to his shoulder, and heard an awful dissonant howl of loss and rage.

With a soundless snap, Sack burst into existence in the dank darkness of the sealed Dwarven ruins. The Sword of Absolute Law was in his hands.

So far so good.