The City of Fire

 

Bright light spilled into the torchlit hallway. Each adventurer blinked and Krusk raised one thick forearm to shield his mismatched eyes. The light was brighter than Naull's new spell, brighter even than true daylight.

"Stairs," Regdar said as his eyes acclimated.

The others looked and saw a flight of sandstone-colored steps leading up into the bright light.

"Do you see anything else?" Naull asked. She still shielded her eyes with her hands. Peering into the light was painful.

The fighter shook his head and moved forward.

"No," Alhandra said, "it's my turn."

The paladin, her armor shining brightly in the clear light and her sword held before her, advanced toward the light.

The others followed at a short distance, Regdar second, Naull third, and Krusk bringing up the rear. Of all the adventurers, the half-orc seemed to have the most problem with the bright light and he didn't lower his arm away from his eyes.

Naull found as soon as she stepped onto the stairs, however, that the light became more bearable. She still couldn't see the top of the flight, but as she slowly ascended, the light bothered her less and less. By the time she'd climbed a dozen steps, she could see normally. She looked back and Krusk was no longer shielding his eyes. His heavy brows still squinted against the dazzle, but he peered around more or less normally.

"I... I think I see something," Alhandra said, pausing on the stairs. The others stopped behind her, but the paladin started moving almost immediately. "It's ... it's ..."

Standing on the top step, Alhandra lowered her sword and looked around in amazement. The others followed her example. Naull gasped audibly, and Krusk growled.

"It's the sky," Regdar said.

"It's a sky," amended Naull.

Beyond the stairs the adventurers saw an open expanse above them. It was red, however, not blue, and the few wispy clouds swirling quickly through the air high above them seemed almost bright pink in color.

Naull shook herself out of her wonderment and said, "That passage ..." The wizard hesitated. How to say it without panicking anyone? "That passage must have been the link between our world and the plane, the pocket dimension, that Secrustia Nar resides in. We're somewhere between our world and the Elemental Plane of Fire."

Turning in place, Regdar gaped at the wizard. The others looked at her.

"We walked to another plane?" Regdar asked.

Naull shrugged, palms upward, in answer.

"Oh," he continued, "I thought there'd be some big, swirling gate filled with fiery energy or something, not just a hallway."

Krusk thumped Regdar on the shoulder, who looked at the barbarian, and asked, "What?"

Pointing one finger over the fighter's armored shoulder, Krusk nodded. Regdar turned.

"Oh," the fighter said simply.

The sky still swirled red above them, giving off light with no sun, but all around the land looked much more familiar—flat, unremarkable desert. That is, except where Krusk pointed. Perhaps a quarter mile distant—it was very hard to judge distances—stood what looked like a huge arch. It was sandstone in color, like the stairs, but an immense emerald-colored stone flashed in the keystone at the top.

Within the arch, reddish-orange flames rippled.

"Well, isn't that nice?" Naull commented dryly.

Regdar frowned, but then grinned at her.

"Let's go," the fighter said with mock exasperation. "I want to get this over with."

The others followed.

"I thought it was supposed to be harder than this," Regdar whispered to Naull.

Alhandra took point again, and Krusk walked with her over the hot sand. All four sweated furiously.

"You complaining?" she asked, but privately agreed. She took out the papers that came with the key and shuffled through them as they walked. "The key," she said. "It must be because we have the key." She looked down at a picture on one of the sheets. "Either that, or ..."

"Or what?"

"A lot of this stuff," she said, shaking the papers and wiping sweat off her forehead with her sleeve, "has to do with the city itself. I thought it told of the dangers and tricks for getting in, but..."

"But it talks about the dangers in the city."

Naull wasn't certain, so she shrugged almost apologetically. "It really is a weird code."

Regdar stopped, and Naull halted alongside him. "Naull," he said quietly, facing her. "No one expects you to know everything or to be able to figure it all out. We're getting swept along here, and you're figuring things out as you go." He reached out to her and she took his gauntlet in her hand. "You're doing great."

Nodding, Naull smiled up at her partner.

Yes, she thought, we're definitely going to have to have a talk when this is over.

"Thanks," she said.

The two turned and continued walking, and the party reached the gate sooner than they expected. It loomed large in front of them, but not as large as they'd supposed from the end of the stairs. It stood perhaps forty feet high and was easily thirty feet across—nearly a semicircle, jutting up out of the sand.

"Heironeous protect us!" Alhandra exclaimed, holding up her shield. "It feels like an oven!"

It did. The flames in the gate weren't just for show. The adventurers felt as if they stood in front of a well-stoked forge, if that forge was the size of a large city gate.

But there was no city beyond the gate. They looked on either side, and after a few moments of arguing Krusk actually walked all the way around the arch.

"Here!" Krusk exclaimed.

Just above head-height on the left side of the arch they saw an emblem that looked exactly like the key. Krusk pulled out the golden disk and raised it, but Alhandra shouted for him to stop. On the other side of the arch was a second emblem, identical to the first. After a few minutes examination, they found two more, each on an opposite side.

Pressed deep into the stone of the arch, each emblem looked identical to every other. Naull confirmed from the notes that the right thing to do was place the key into one of these emblems. That would open the arch and let them into the city... but which one should they choose? Krusk had no more information from Captain Tahrain. He stood before the gate, sweating and staring at the flames.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take, Naull," Regdar complained. "Could we at least move away from this thing while you figure it out?" He'd stripped off his helmet and poured water down into his armor. Alhandra did the same, but they didn't dare use any more of the precious liquid that way. "Should we go back to the stairs?"

The wizard sat before the fiery gate, laying some of the papers out before her. She found a diagram of the arch and it had small symbols on it she guessed were the key sigils. Naull shook her head once, sweat from her head spattering the ground.

"No... no," she said, "there has to be a clue."

"Well, what do you know so far?" Alhandra asked.

She stood by the right side of the arch, running her hand over the stone. Her face glistened in the light. Naull resisted the urge to scream at her.

It's the heat, she thought. Regdar's right—we should move away from the arch, but didn't the paladin ever ... ?

"Wait..." Naull said. "I think I've got it."

She jumped up, clutching one of the pages in both hands. Moving quickly to Alhandra's side, she pointed to the sigil there.

"Look! Here, the tail of the flame goes up and to the right."

She jogged over to the other side of the arch, the others following tiredly, and Naull indicated the emblem there.

"Here," she said, "it points to the left. On the other side—" she moved around the arch—"it's reversed, and upside down. It's the same sigil but it's oriented differently, relative to where you are near the arch."

Shaking his head, Regdar asked, "What does that mean?"

"Don't you see? The key can be placed in any of the emblems, but it has a different function depending on which you use."

"All right, I guess that makes sense," the fighter mused, rubbing his goatee thoughtfully, "but why four emblems? What does each one do?"

Naull grinned as she suddenly realized the answer.

"That's what hung me up for so long," she said. "Two sigils would make sense—one to open the gate and one to close it—but four? That's what had me puzzled."

She started chuckling, shaking her head. When she looked up, even the paladin stared at her with a twinge of impatience.

"Oh, sorry," Naull laughed again. "Look up at the sky; what do you see?"

They all looked up and Krusk, surprisingly, was the first to answer, "Fire."

Alhandra and Regdar gaped, but Naull nodded sagely and said, "Right. Fire. That isn't a red sky up there—that's actual flame."

It took a moment for the import of that statement to sink in.

"No wonder it's so hot," Regdar added lamely.

"It was Krusk who made me think of it, actually," Naull said. Stooping, she picked up a handful of sand—or tried to; she dropped it almost immediately. "It's really hot. But now feel the air." She breathed in, deeply. The others followed suit. "I know it's hard to tell, but the air isn't hot. It's certainly warm, but most of that's emanation from the sand. I bet the air's no hotter than it was back in Durandell."

The others agreed, but they still didn't understand.

Naull continued, "Before we opened the door back there, this area was part of the Elemental Plane of Fire. In fact, I'm betting it still is—but it's been changed, magically, to someplace we can inhabit. That's why there are four symbols on the arch."

"All right," Regdar said, following Naull to the left side of the arch. "I understand. So a few hours ago, this area was completely covered in flame."

"I guess."

"And it'll be covered in flame again?" Alhandra ventured.

Naull shrugged and said, "I guess so—probably when somebody closes that door."

They all looked nervously back at the hole in the sand.

"So how do we open this gate?" asked Regdar.

"Krusk, will you loan me the key for a second?" Naull asked.

She stepped up to the left side of the arch and the half-orc handed her the golden disk. It flashed with its own light when she held it up to the archway, but didn't touch the emblem.

"See, I figure that two of these symbols are for us—people from our world—to use. The other two are for denizens of the Elemental Plane of Fire to use. Secrustia Nar doesn't lie on our plane, or the Plane of Fire, but between, remember? You'd need a key to get in or out, from either place."

"So all you have to do is try each of the symbols, and the gate will open," Alhandra said.

"Well... yes," Naull allowed.

Regdar caught the uncertainty in her voice and asked, "What's the catch?"

The wizard sighed, "The catch is, if we put the key in the wrong symbol and it thinks we're coming from the Elemental Plane of Fire, I think the magic will... adjust to make us more comfortable."

It took a moment, but even Krusk got the idea.

"Krispy Krusk," he said.

The joke was so unexpected, Regdar barked with laughter and slapped the barbarian on the back. "Well, we can't have that. So which is the right one, Naull?"

She looked up at the symbol before them and said, "It's really the right pair we have to worry about, Regdar. If we put the key in the wrong keyhole, so to speak, as long as it's one of the right pair, we're all right. It'd be like trying to lock a door that's already locked—no harm done."

"So we have a fifty-fifty chance," Alhandra observed helpfully.

"Somewhat better than that, I hope," Naull answered. "No, I'm pretty sure we want to use the symbols with the tail going up and away. Think back to the symbol on the floor and the others we've seen. Even all the inscriptions on these papers always present the image of the key in pretty much the same way. The ball is at the bottom, the tail at the top. The sigils on the other side of the archway are the first time we've seen them upside-down."

The party began to breathe a little easier. It made sense.

"And, as far as which is the right one to open the door," she said, standing on her toes and placing the key just above the symbol but not pressing it home, "Draconic is a very left-first sort of language. It reads left-to-right, important words are arranged in the beginning of sentences, and so on. I think this—" she looked at the others, who nodded— "is the correct one to choose."

She pressed the symbol home and flames belched from either side of the archway as a deep rumbling shook the sand under their feet. The party scrambled away from the archway moments before fire erupted outward. The shaking of the ground threw them off their feet and Naull scrambled to a sitting position.

"Of course, I could be wrong..." she shouted over the tumult.

 

 

Down in the circular room the gnolls heard the rumbling and felt the ground shake. A few yelped in panic and ran for the stairs.

"Stay!" Grawltak snarled.

He tore his bow off his back and strung it in an instant. Kark followed his lead. The younger gnolls saw their leader's eyes flash in the dark and they stepped back down, away from the stairs. He growled at them and they whimpered, baring their necks.

"Something's happening," Kark supplied unhelpfully. Grawltak barked in annoyance.

"Go—find out what," he said. "Take these cowards with you. I must summon my mistress."

She'd told him to make contact when they reached the city gate or had the half-orc in tow. They had neither, but something told Grawltak it would be best not to delay any longer. Pulling out the amulet, he sat down on the damp floor. He did not wait for the rest of his pack to lope down the passage before he began his chanting.

The red face appeared and Grawltak relayed the recent events. The rumbling, at least, had stopped, but that didn't seem to please his mistress. She swore effusively when he told her of their progress.

"They can't be more than half an hour in front of us, Mistress," he whined. "I've sent my pack to capture them, but I knew you'd want to hear this news."

"Curse you!" the red face said. "Very well... you were right, Grawltak," she allowed grudgingly. "You've failed to capture the half-orc or stop them from entering the city, but you did guess right in this. I am coming. I will be there momentarily."

Reflexively, the gnoll blinked and looked over his shoulder, up the stairs to the passage beyond, as if he expected to see his mistress descending even as they spoke. She caught his movement through the amulet and laughed cruelly.

"No, gnoll. I would have preferred not to do this, but—"

The face turned away and Grawltak saw her lips move, though no sound came to him. Then the red face composed itself and closed its eyes. The amulet started to shine brightly. As the light intensified, Grawltak scrambled up on all fours, then backed away.

There was a blinding flash and the sound of metal shattering. A piece of shrapnel hit Grawltak's bare wrist and he yelped. When he looked up from the scratch he gaped. His mistress, clad in her dark armor and bearing her sword and shield stood before him. Her sword glowed with a dark light, somehow illuminating the room without really dispelling the darkness. He fell to his knees.

"Get up, fool." Her booted foot crunched on what remained of the hopelessly shattered amulet. Whatever magic it once held was completely gone. Grawltak didn't feel relieved, however—he'd traded the amulet for the real thing. "Lead me to them," she said.

Without a word, the gnoll moved off toward the lighted passage. The blackguard strode behind him, her dark armor flashing in the torchlight.

 

 

The adventurers rolled in the sand as the quaking slowly subsided. Naull spit dirt out of her mouth and pushed Krusk's big arm off her waist. The half-orc sat up, trying to rub his eyes clean with sand-encrusted paws. Naull made him stop and used a little of their precious water to clean his eyes. Behind her, Alhandra gasped.

The gate was clear, Naull could see, but from where she sat, almost even with the left side of the arch, she could see nothing remarkable on either side. Alhandra stood directly in front of the archway, staring through it. Scrambling onto her feet, Naull looked through the gate and added her gasp to the paladin's.

"The City of Fire ..." she said.

Through the archway, the adventurers saw a city. It filled the gate and obviously continued above and beside it—but the desert around the arch remained unchanged. A road on the other side of the arch led straight into the city.

"The portal is open," Naull declared as they stared in wonder.

Krusk recovered first. Taking the key off the arch, he stepped through the gate and started walking down the road at a brisk pace. There was no strange transition between worlds—he stepped through the arch as if it was just another passageway. Naull cried out and hurried after him. The paladin and the fighter brought up the rear. Krusk kept going as if he'd walked that path every day of his life.

The rest of the adventurers hurried to follow, but they couldn't help but look at the wonders before and around them. The City of Fire was aptly named. It was filled with colors—most of the buildings were white or sand-colored, and there were blue and green gemstones decorating some of the windows—but by far, red and orange dominated the view. Windows were made of tinted, orange glass and what had to be magical flames served as pennants on the tallest spires. The towers were tall and straight but almost always topped with onion-shaped roofs. Those few that weren't seemed entirely flat, as if made for someone or something to land upon them.

"It's cooler here," Alhandra observed.

Indeed, there seemed to be a soft breeze wafting down the avenue toward them. They all inhaled deeply from the crisp air, then continued on.

For several minutes, the adventurers were content to follow Krusk's lead. They watched the flames of the city dance and marveled at the gemstone decorations. Eventually Regdar's sense of apprehension grew and he stopped the half-orc.

"Where are you going, Krusk?" he asked, seizing the half-orc's gray, muscled bicep.

The barbarian turned, fierce determination on his face. He growled and looked down at Regdar's hand, but the fighter didn't release him.

"Must close the gate. Permanently," he said finally.

Regdar nodded. That's what the half-orc had promised his dead captain, and that's what they'd come to do.

"But how?" Regdar asked. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

The half-orc's determination slipped for a moment and he looked less sure. Naull hurried up to them.

"We have to find the palace," she said, pushing a page from the packet under their noses. "It says the rulers of the city could control everything from there. If there's a way to close the gate permanently, it'll be there."

Alhandra added her voice to the debate. "But how can we find the palace? Is there a map?" She looked around. Many of the buildings might be considered a palace back in her homeland.

Shaking her head, Naull said, "No, but I doubt it'll be hard. These papers refer to an 'Ivory Tower' and an 'Opal Throne'."

Krusk made a noise and started in amazement. "Opal . . . Throne?" he asked.

"Yes. It says right here: 'And the great caliph sat with flaming crown/The tower of Ivory/His Opal Throne.' I think it's a poem, but it really doesn't translate," she added. "It talks about how the caliph could control the city from the throne, so I'm guessing the throne is some sort of magical device."

The half-orc's normally gray face seemed ashen. "My captain," he breathed. "Captain Tahrain's title—he was 'Protector of the Opal Throne'."

"I'm guessing Kalpesh didn't have an actual Opal Throne, then?" Naull prompted.

The half-orc shrugged. "Many jewels—some opals. Never thought about it."

"Why would you?" Regdar asked, putting an arm on the barbarian's slumping shoulders. "And what would it matter anyway? At least it explains something about how this packet was protected. Your captain, Tahrain, must've been the last in a long line of protectors. It was his job to make sure nobody got the key and the power of the Opal Throne."

Krusk looked up, his eyes dark and his face grim.

"Not the last," the half-orc said.

He clutched the key to his chest, and an awkward silence followed.

"All right, then," Naull said at last. "Let's find this ivory tower. It shouldn't be too hard. I guess Krusk had the right idea. Keep walking along the main road and we should come to it, or see it."

"Maybe we could ask for directions?" Alhandra joked.

Regdar and Naull grinned.

"There you go. If only everyone hadn't fled the city thousands of years ago...." the wizard said, snapping her fingers and

smirking.

Laughing with false bravado, they followed Krusk along the road.

Flames flickered off in one of the side-streets and a shadow moved. It leaped from one small building to the side of a tower. Soon, another joined it. And another. As the adventurers walked down the road, shadows and flickering lights grew unnoticed on either side of them.

Kark led the gnoll pack through the torchlit hall and down into the room. They found the tattered remains of the creatures that attacked the party, but did not know what to make of them. A few of the younger gnolls squabbled over the gemstones they found until Kark growled fiercely and they fell back into line. One of the scouts lifted a piece of leather and sniffed.

"Blood," he said.

"Whose?"

The young gnoll sniffed again, then tasted the dark red liquid.

"Human," he answered.

"Half-orc," another said from off to one side.

There were several specks of blood in the room, and many of the pieces of fabric looked torn or ripped as if by sword or dagger. A few of the gnolls yipped with pleasure.

Kark snarled, "You don't see any bodies, do you? Save your laughter for when we have our quarry by the throat. Now—up the stairs!"

The younger gnolls whined and shied. Kark commanded them only by Grawltak's loaned authority, and even though it was less than an hour since their leader had sent them out, Kark could sense resistance. Gnoll packs followed one pack-master, and that leader ruled by strength and strength alone. The young gnolls saw an old curiosity before them—a live ex-pack-master. It was something they'd never seen before, nor likely would again.

Seizing the nearest gnoll, Kark drew the surprised scout in close, his claws digging into the creature's shoulder. The younger gnoll yelped in surprise and pain as Kark bit the back of his neck and tore a hunk of flesh and fur away. Before the scout could use his youthful strength to break free, Kark pushed him away and leaped toward the rest. Blood dripped from his lower jaw.

"Grawltak says we follow, so we follow!" he barked. "Until our pack-master rejoins us, I lead!"

He glared at the gnolls and knew they'd been cowed, at least for a time. The injured scout gripped his wound in pain, but dipped his head as meekly as the others.

"Now—up the stairs!"

The gnoll pack came out of the stairs and into the bright light far more reluctantly than the adventurers had. Kark had them in charge, but the light was so bright it burned their eyes. They shuffled and whined, snuffling at the ground for some scent, but the shifting sand made it difficult to find any trail.

Kark shielded his eyes and looked around. He could not see the archway—gnoll vision wasn't good in bright light—but fortune aided him. A few dozen steps away from the stairway he saw a rag half-buried in the sand. He loped over to it, the rest of the pack following. It was a discarded end of a bandage, with some blood still fresh on it. It gave him a direction and he led his pack that way. They moved slowly across the sand, not daring to miss another sign.

 

 

"Regdar," Naull whispered. Krusk and Alhandra were out in front again. "I've got to ask you a question."

"What?" Regdar replied. He was looking around again, this time not in wonder, but worry.

"Have you seen—"

"Things moving in the shadows?" the fighter interrupted.

Naull nearly jumped. "What? No ... I was going to point out all the gemstones. This place is rich!" But now she looked around apprehensively. "What do you see?"

"At first I thought it was just the flames—shadows flickering and all that, but I'm sure—there!"

Regdar pointed and Naull whirled. She thought she saw something move between one of the buildings.

"Alhandra! Krusk! We've got trouble," Regdar said. He drew his big sword from its back-sheath. "What've you got, Naull?"

"Not much," the wizard said grimly, mentally adding like always.' "Maybe a surprise or two."

The adventurers stood in a square, back to the middle, as more shapes moved around them. Some were shadowy, but others looked as if they were made of fire. Knowing that the adventurers clearly saw them, they seemed less interested in stealth. At least a score of the figures closed in or darted among the buildings and spires.

"Get ready," Regdar said, without much hope.

Most of the figures were small, but he'd gotten a good look at a few of them. Several were made of fire, others of smoke. The few that were humanoid were naked and wreathed in fire or smoke and had a distinctly devilish appearance. Slowly they closed in.

"Now!" the fighter shouted, stepping forward to swing at the nearest creature.

"Stop!"

 

 

The gnolls sniffed at the archway suspiciously. They saw the city and the street beyond, but none of the pack crossed the threshold. All of them panted in the heat, desperately uncomfortable.

Kark, too, sniffed at the arch again and stared at the gem gleaming on the top. The adventurers went through it, he had no doubt.

Grawltak's orders were to follow their quarry and capture them if possible. The mistress, however, hadn't wanted Kark or the others to know about the city, and he didn't think she'd be pleased if they entered without their leader. He did not know what to do, and he'd been thinking about it since reaching the arch nearly a half-hour before.

Where is Grawltak? he thought.

In that thought, Kark decided—I follow my pack-master, not a soft-skin.

He feared the mistress, but he was loyal to the gnoll who spared and healed him. He knew no other gnoll, except perhaps Grawltak himself, would make the same choice, but he knew what he had to do.

"Come!" he snarled.

The other gnolls looked at him in surprise and concern, but a quick bark had them stepping through the archway and prowling the city's streets.

 

 

Grawltak remained below. His mistress set off down the passage on his heels but she stopped several times, as if unsure of something. When they reached the room at the end of the hallway she did not say a word, but he watched as she drew a wand from her robe and gestured around the area. She frowned and stood still for several minutes.

The gnoll pack-master didn't dare disturb his mistress—not for ten minutes, then not for twenty. When thirty passed he made a soft barking sound, as if clearing his throat.

The black knight looked up suddenly, her dark eyes glaring as her hair tossed behind her. He could not think of her as a soft-skin when she looked at him like that. He feared his fangs would break if he ever even tried biting her.

"What is it?" she snapped.

"Mistress, they went up," he said, pointing at the stairs.

"I know! I know, but if they entered the city..." She shook her head, then said in a low voice, "No, they do not know its secrets. They cannot use its power, not yet. It is useless to delay."

But she continued to hesitate. Grawltak shifted uneasily, his claws scraping on the floor. Was his mistress afraid? He shook his head and growled at the thought. What she feared did not bear thinking about.

"All right!" she said suddenly, but not to him. "I will go."

Without a glance in his direction, the black knight stepped onto the stairs and Grawltak hurried after her.

 

 

The power of command resonated in that voice. Regdar halted in his tracks with Naull's hand pausing halfway to a spell pouch. Krusk and Alhandra looked up and saw someone standing on one of the lower building's flat roofs.

"Stop," the voice rumbled again.

The dancing, fiery figures on either side of the road continued flickering but they stayed as still as flames ever could, in a ring around the adventurers.

The voice came from a short, stocky figure. He looked like a well-muscled dwarf but his skin shone as if it were made of brass. Instead of hair and a beard, orange flame wreathed his face and swirled up from his head. He wore a kilt made of some coppery metal and a surcoat woven of thin wire and studded with many gemstones.

"Disperse." Smoke rose from the creature's bright eyes as he spoke again.

Almost as one, the small figures surrounding the adventurers jumped and danced back between the side buildings. Within seconds, no sign of their presence remained.

The fiery dwarf looked around, apparently satisfied, then he strode down a set of steps leading from the flat roof to an alley adjoining the road. He walked right up to the party and Alhandra, who stood nearest his side of the street. The emblems on her shield and breastplate caught his attention and he nodded.

"Hail, servant of Heironeous," he said, holding one hand up in a gesture of peace. His mouth barely moved when he spoke, but his baritone voice rumbled from deep in his throat.

Alhandra recovered quickly. Sheathing her sword smoothly, she mirrored the dwarf's gesture.

"Hail, and well met. I am Alhandra, paladin of Heironeous."

The dwarf nodded, his flaming hair flickering as he did so. His face looked grim, but he bore no weapon, only a thick rod tucked into his belt.

"Welcome to the City of Fire," he said. "I am Gurn Klaggesar, warden of the city."

"W-Warden?" Naull stammered. "But we thought the city deserted."

The dwarf stared at her, his eyes smoldering—and not metaphorically. It was disconcerting, Naull thought, to look into eyes that burned like coals.

She shifted in the brief silence, then stammered, "Oh, I-I'm Naull, a wizard of... well, a wizard."

"No one dwells here, Naull the Wizard," the dwarf answered, "save I and my servants. We watch over Secrustia Nar and protect it from outsiders."

Naull fidgeted again, and Regdar said, "We're glad to hear it. We have the same mission."

A fiery eyebrow cocked and the dwarf looked at the fighter in what appeared to be mild disbelief, mixed with a small measure of amusement.

"I'm Regdar, and this is Krusk. He comes from the city of Kalpesh. He bears a key."

Krusk, suddenly aware of the dwarf's attentive gaze, fumbled in his pouch and drew out the key. He gasped and nearly dropped it. He'd grown accustomed to its magic nature—flames seemed to dance along its edge whenever he held it out—but now it appeared to be a ball of living flame, flickering and burning in his palm. Still, it gave off no heat and the half-orc's thick skin was unscorched.

"I am aware of the key," the dwarf said evenly. "I wondered when it would return." He sounded almost disgruntled, as if talking to children who'd 'borrowed' something that did not belong to them.

Krusk bristled and closed his fist over the ball of fire. "I come from Kalpesh!" he declared loudly. "My master was Captain of the Royal Guard and Protector of the Opal Throne. He died protecting the key and he passed it on to me. I will close the gate." His chin jutted out and his eyes bulged, daring the dwarf to respond.

Naull gaped and readied herself. It was one of the longest, most eloquent speeches the half-orc had given since she'd met him, and it seemed particularly ill-timed. Whatever this dwarf was, they stood on his home ground. She forced herself to look away from the defiant half-orc and over toward Gurn Klaggesar.

Surprisingly, the dwarf stepped up and bowed low, his flaming mane flickering. When he finished and spoke again, his voice changed. It was still strong and full of authority, but there was some respect there, too.

"Forgive me," he said at last. "I have not had visitors for many years. My manners are suspect. Please, let me welcome you, Protector, and your companions. Come, and I will show you the Opal Throne you have traveled so far to see."

The dwarf paused to see Krusk and the others nod, then he set off down the road with the travelers spread out on either side of him. He began talking, telling the story of Secrustia Nar.

Most of Gurn Klaggesar's tale echoed what Naull had already told the group of the legends, but some of it amazed her as well. It was a long tale and most of it made little sense. Still, Gurn had a way of telling a story that made the details interesting, even though none of the adventurers knew the people and places he spoke about. Eventually the dwarf got to the point of his tale, however, and each listened intently as he told of the creation of the city.

"Your world still breeds mighty wizards?" Gurn asked after some time. He looked at Naull pointedly and she nodded. "Then you know how they can be. Always delving, always probing for knowledge ... and always looking for new ways to express their powers.

"Well," the dwarf continued, "a millennia—or was it two?—ago, powerful wizards from your world on the Material Plane made alliances with some of the beings dwelling on the Elemental Plane of Fire. They bargained with the efreet—" the dwarf spat that word out like a curse—"the azer—" Gurn indicated himself—"and others. With the aid of their magic, my people built this city between the two worlds and made it accessible to both. Beings of both planes can exist here; the magic sustains all."

"I told you it was dwarves," Krusk interrupted.

"Yes, you're very smart, Krusk," Naull said impatiently. She was eager to hear what the dwarf—the azer—imparted to them. The wizard studied the planes from books and scrolls; here, she had an actual denizen of one of the Inner Planes! "Please, Gurn, continue."

"There is not much more to tell," the azer said. "At first, the peoples of both planes dwelt together in peace. Good, evil, fire, and flesh. Magic and truce kept all in check and there was much commerce." The azer's eyes flickered at that word and Naull wondered how similar these fiery dwarves were to those she knew from home. "But conflicts arose. I know not what pressures built on the Material-worlders," he said, though his voice sounded a little harsh, "but some of the most evil creatures of Fire, the zegguthi'ter ata garra—"

The flames around the azer's head, which had been mostly bright orange, turned dark red and his bronze face darkened visibly.

"Excuse me," he apologized, and his face lightened, "the efreet—" again Gurn spat the word— "used their powers to corrupt and influence others. War began on both planes, and the city became a conduit for conflict and chaos."

"So you closed the gate," Naull concluded.

The azer nodded solemnly.

"But why didn't you shut it permanently?" Regdar asked. "I mean, if it's such a danger..."

"The city itself is no danger. It is a conduit through which many can draw power. Beings from either plane can come here, or be forced here, by any who know how to do so. The controller can then send these creatures out to perform services," he said. His voice was grim. "That is what started the war in the first place. Creatures of fire have some power on the Material Plane, no?" The others nodded their agreement. "And wizards still use them to fight their battles? Imagine if they did not have to use their own magic to summon and control creatures of fire. How dangerous would someone with that sort of power be?"

Naull thought of the little she'd seen done with summoning spells and the flaming sky outside. She shuddered.

"As to your question," the azer continued, not waiting for an answer, "the gates could not be permanently closed without also collecting all the keys. I could not leave the city to retrieve them. I sent out searchers for the keys long ago, but..." Gum shrugged. "Most of the keys were stolen and scattered over many planes. I and my allies retrieved all of them but this one. The key taken to Kalpesh was not stolen," he said, looking at Krusk again, "but taken there for safekeeping while we searched for the others. As long as one remained, however, the gate could still be reopened."

Krusk started to open his hand again, perhaps to offer the burning key to the azer, but the dwarf turned away and gestured up and away from them. The adventurers' eyes followed his hands.

"Here. We have arrived. Behold the Ivory Tower! Inside you will see something no one from your plane of existence has seen for centuries. Othakil eb Anar—the Opal Throne."

The party stared in wonder.

The building that led to the tower was a wide, sandy structure set back from the road they walked along. It stood two tall stories high and marble statues with blazing, ruby eyes graced its courtyard. The party's eyes climbed the steps to the grand entrance but continued upward to where a white tower, so slender it had to have been built by magic, grew up out of the mansion. It continued up into the sky to end at a minaret made entirely of flickering flame.

"Well," Naull said at last.

The party entered the palace, walking underneath a marble dragon's legs. Winding stairs led up on either side of the building and small figures flitted over them, through the air and along the banisters. Many leaped to the side of the azer and he bent to listen to their wispy, crackling voices.

"My servants," he said. "Mephits and fire spirits and creatures of smoke. They spied you entering the city and told me. They will serve you as long as you are here."

The party nodded and Naull asked, "Do you have somewhere we can clean up?" She didn't know how long they intended to be there, but the wizard felt very tired and very dirty.

It's all this white, she thought.

"Of course," Gurn began, but then a small figure, a naked woman of perfect proportions but with fire instead of hair, hopped up to him and tugged on his kilt. He bent and his eyes widened as she spoke. "No!" he said. He turned to the party, his coal-black eyes now red with flame. "Others have entered the gate! How—there is no other key!" He glared accusingly at Krusk. "You left the gate open!" he said angrily.

The sudden change in their host's manner startled Naull, but the half-orc bristled and met the azer's stare. Before he could respond or Gurn could say anything further, Alhandra interrupted.

"The gnolls," she said. "We didn't realize they were so close behind us. We raced them here."

Quickly, the party told Gurn an abbreviated version of Krusk's story, and of their own flight into the caverns and down through the passage. He did not react to the burning of Kalpesh, but his eyes smoldered when he heard of the blackguard. He called the fiery woman to his side again and spoke to her in a strange language. She responded in kind, shaking her head.

"My servants have not seen—" he paused, as if considering, then continued,"—a human woman in black armor," Gurn said with obvious relief, "but there are many of these gnolls. They must not reach the palace."

"Can't your servant...?" Naull gestured, but her voice trailed off. At least one of the azer's mephits looked to be made of lava and others seemed to consist entirely of fire and smoke. "Can't they stop the gnolls?"

Gurn shook his head. "No—the compact with the Inner Planes is inviolate. They cannot harm anyone of the Material Plane while they are here. I will not be the one to shatter a treaty that has stood for millennia. You are of their home world; it is up to you to repel them."

"Oh, terrific," Naull said tiredly.