Exile - Rewritten

Part 4: Mega City One, Year 2116
Chapter 14: Mega City One
Chapter 15: Cubes
Chapter 16: Rebels
Chapter 17: The Midgard Serpent
Chapter 18: Retribution

Epilogue

Part 4: Mega City One, Year 2116

Chapter 14: Mega City One

Sector 14, Mega City One

"Bigmamababy!" The vaguely human person on stage gyrated.

Quetzal blinked. They were in a dim place with a lot of flashing colored lights. There were a lot of young people dancing, if you could call that dancing, in front of them.

On a platform, a band was playing, if you could call that playing. Quetzal would have called it noise – a certain beat underlay the entire thing, a wholly unsymphonic sound that seemed to be a cross between a scalded cat, a lot of brass plates being enthusiastically hit on a wall, and some words that even the language spell did not understand.

AT LEAST WE'RE NOT IN AN ALLEY, Death said. No one paid attention to them, as the people in front appeared to be trying to jerk and gyrate until Time ended or they expired.

"Unfortunately," Quetzal said. The Zak-wolf was whimpering, and trying to cover its more sensitive ears. "I think my eardrums exploded."

I DON'T HAVE EARDRUMS, BUT I THINK MY SKULL IS CRACKING, Death winced at a particularly high note that the stringed instrument the person on stage was holding. SOUNDS LIKE A MORE RADICAL VERSION OF MUSIC WITH ROCKS IN.

"What?" Quetzal now had to shout.

IT WAS AN ACCIDENT IN THE DISCWORLD. I SEE IT REACHED ITS DESTINATION – HERE – AND HAS EVOLVED. OUCH. Death winced again.

Quetzal looked back at the stage. The human at the microphone gave another ear-splitting yodel, "Reallydadalady!"

The human had shaved off all his hair except for a bright green line on his head, which resembled a hairbrush. It was a very badly made hairbrush, at that.

He was wearing a black leather jacket with studs in it, open to show his naked chest. His trousers were also made of tight leather. His bare arms showed a rather complicated and painful tattoo of something that Quetzal didn't want to make out.

The rest of his band were more or less the same – black clothes, weird hair, dark glasses, and bad music taste.

They were inside a low ceilinged, normally large but now claustrophobic place, in bright glaring colors. There was an unattended bar at the wall across theirs, and it led to a small wooden door. The sign above it read 'Exit' in bad black paint.

There was also a bright silvery ball suspended at the ceiling, which threw the points of light all over the place. The sound appeared to be emitting from small black boxes hung on even intervals on the top corners of the place. It smelt of stale sweat and a heady scent.

CAN WE GET OUT OF HERE? Death asked. The Zak-wolf nodded emphatically, all the while, through some feat of juggling, keeping its paws over its head.

"I was just about to suggest that," Quetzal said, and started to the door.

There was a sound like glass shattering then the tramp of heavy boots, just noticeable over the din of music. None of the humans took any notice.

The door burst open, and humans burst in. They were wearing blue helmets with red rims, with a black visor covering their eyes. They were dressed in what looked like a more serious version of the tights that the Batman wore, minus the cape. The belt at their waists was green, and looked like it was made of pockets strung together. They wore what looked like gloves and boots up to their elbows and knees respectively.

Most of all, they were holding a gun each, and they were pointing those things randomly at the crowd. Light glinted off their gold badges, attached to them by a chain that disappeared under their gold-colored shoulder blades.

"Judges!" some of the more-awake members of the floor screamed.

The crowd, slowly at first, but more quickly, started to panic.

What looked like the leader of the small group of humans walked forward, holding his gun. "Illegal disco house," he barked, then sniffed. "Drugs."

He turned to a short man cringing by his side. "Four years cube-time. Check all those drokkers for drugs."

"Gotcha, Dredd," one of the 'Judges' behind the leader, said.

They walked forward, rummaging in their pocket belts for some strange, metallic hand-held device, then walked forward. The crowd shrank back.

Quetzal began to wish that she'd never heard of Lloth in the first place.

They moved methodically through the crowd, while the human Dredd appeared to be speaking to his wrist, to something known as Control Center.

There wasn't any way out. The spider started to jump up and down, on her wrist – she dumped it hastily in her pockets.

Then a Judge came up to her. He looked up into her face, then down at her clothes, then at the Zak-wolf. Inevitably, his eyes, or rather his visor, moved to Death.

"Jovus. Dredd, take a load of this," he said. He pointed his gun at them.

In her pocket, the spider jewel started to vibrate with excitement. It couldn't be! Quetzal stared at the gun. Wonderful – the thing I'm here to get and it's going to kill me.

Judge Dredd walked over. He had a certain walk that suggested he would plow through anything and everything in his way. He even seemed to be forcing his way through the air itself. His mouth, Quetzal saw, was set in a perpetual scowl, which seemed to have set into a permanent expression.

The same sequence of staring commenced. Dredd turned to the man next to him, who appeared to be the owner of the establishment. "What is the meaning of this?" he said, in a menacing voice.

There was a scream in the crowd as some tried to retaliate, and a sharp sound as they received a gun in their face. The owner whitened.

"I... I don't know who they are, sir. Never seen them in my life." The man stammered.

"Five years cube-time." Dredd said. He looked back at Quetzal, whose hands were now itching for her blades, but kept still.

"Show your ID," he said, or most accurately demanded.

Quetzal looked blank. "ID?"

"Are you a mutie?" Dredd demanded. "You don't look human."

"I am a dark elf," Quetzal said, cursing the fact that she didn't find any spell that worked on outwardly appearances.

"Is that... dog yours?" Dredd pointed at the Zak-wolf, which was resisting the impulse to bite the green boot.

"Yes," Quetzal hazarded. She waited for the question about Death.

To her surprise, Dredd merely glanced at him, then back at her. "Ten years cube-time for illegal immigration and the possession of an unregistered animal," he growled.

Quetzal glanced down at the Zak-wolf. She had no idea what 'cube-time' was, but it didn't sound pleasant at all. The look said, run.

The Zak-wolf hesitated, then suddenly bounded forward, past the crowd, accelerating to the door.

"Drokk!" Dredd said, whirling with a certain grace and firing his gun.

It hit the Zak-wolf quite accurately, and it let out a bark, then collapsed into a heap.

"No!" Quetzal cried, but Dredd turned back to her. "No more funny business," he growled, then took her unresisting arm. He pressed the device to her, and Quetzal felt a certain tension under the round disc.

Dredd withdrew the disc, then peered at the screen it was connected to. "You're not loaded," he said finally. "Take her away."

Quetzal knew better than to resist, but she turned to look at the crumpled wolf, then right back at Death.

Death was a frozen statue, holding his scythe, looking quite out of place with the backdrop but resembled a statue nonetheless.

Section 14, MC1

After an hour or so, the statue of Death cautiously un-statued himself. He looked around. The place was deserted now, and the door boarded up.

He walked carefully to the Zak-wolf, then patted its fur. There was no response.

Death went over to the bar, and with difficulty, found a flask of what looked like water, and smelt like water too. He upended the flask over the Zak-wolf.

It whined, then started to struggle, turning its head up to look at Death.

ONLY SILVER KILLS WEREWOLVES, Death said, and grinned. BESIDES, IF YOU WERE DEAD, YOU WOULD HAVE RESUMED YOUR ORIGINAL FORM.

The Zak-wolf struggled weakly, then managed to get up into a sitting position.

I BELIEVE YOU SHOULD STAY IN YOUR WOLF SHAPE. WE WOULD NEED TO TRACK QUETZAL, Death said.

The wolf barked a question.

YES. THE JUDGES TOOK HER AWAY. Death said.

Cubes, Justice Department, MC1

Quetzal sat quietly in the police vehicle, which featured strong metal plates and grilles. They had confiscated her sabers, flute, tome, and the snake whip, which had caused some speculation, especially when it hissed at them. She got a few more years 'cube-time'.

The other prisoners were either quiet, like her, or screaming and throwing themselves against the walls of the police vehicle.

At least they hadn't confiscated the spider jewel.

She couldn't think now. Zaknafein was dead, but her overtly logical mind was in grip of her emotions. There would be time to grieve later.

Quetzal also knew that Death had cleverly 'froze' into a statue to escape comment. She hoped he'd survive. Maybe the Death of this god-forsaken realm would take him in as a guest, or something. Maybe, though the chances were remote, he'd come on some sort of rescue.

After a rowdy ride in which one of the prisoners became unconscious, some started to cry, and some went off in trances, the vehicle stopped.

The doors at the back were opened, to show a few more of the Judges holding more guns.

"Put your hands on your heads, then get out," one of them said.

Most of them obeyed, except for the singer, who threw himself at the Judges, screaming. The first Judge sidestepped neatly then hit him on the head with what looked like a blunt, black stick. The screaming died off, abruptly.

"Five years cube-time, charge: Attacking a Judge." The Judge said, emotionless.

They were herded into a building, that Justice Department. It had a giant gold-colored eagle on it.

Inside were clean, sterile floors, and Judges stalking around briskly. Now and again, there was the occasional prisoner.

They were taken down a lift, with Judges surrounding them, holding guns. The lift seemed to be a large, claustrophobic metal container that went through a feeling that they were descending.

After what seemed an eternity, they appeared at the ground floor. It was also sterile, and had even more guards, neatly at attention and, you've guessed it – holding the same type of guns.

Quetzal couldn't see anything from the huddle of bodies, but could hear some conversation. It was something about locking up the drokkers in so and so row of cells.

It was a deathly silent place. They walked past door after even door, until they came to a large one with a small window. Five or so were put inside, then they went to the next door.

Quetzal entered one with nine other more or less reluctant humans. The 'Cube' was just that – a cube. It was white and had a grille too small to go through and too high to reach anyway. Next to the door was a slot, with a bolted table after it, also white, with rounded corners. There were narrow, plain bunks, a washbasin, and what looked like a white porcelain bowl and a tap. There wasn't any room left.

She sat on a bunk, and tried to ignore the others, reaching into her pocket. The spider jewel was still vibrating, though less so.

Her cellmates meandered disconsolately to bunks. There wasn't any conversation at all.

Opposite Quetzal was a girl in a low-cut dress. She seemed to be the most normal one in the cube, without painted hair or strange leather outfits and tattoos.

Quetzal tried conversation. "What happens now?"she asked.

The girl looked up, then her eyes brightened briefly into what looked like interest. "Are you a mutie?"

"Since I don't know what that means, no." Quetzal said.

"The Judges don't like a mutie," the girl said, "Now? They'd probably question you. Our crime is clear." She said, bitterly. "You're an anomaly though."

The girl didn't seem very surprised at anything anymore.

"You don't seem... well," Quetzal said awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

"I know. Sometimes people say, why do you do it? You know the Judges will come, sooner or later," the girl said, "It's for a chance at rebellion. When you shut up millions of people in an overcrowded city too tightly, they tend to break."

"What are these Judges?" Quetzal asked.

"You don't even know that? What planet did you come from?" the girl said, "I suppose I don't care. Judges are the police, the Judge, and sometimes the executioner, all rolled in one. They go through a long training before they become Judges. They're like the law-keeping machines of Mega City One. I suppose they thought it easier to do away with trials, since the crime rate here is so high."

"Who judges them?" Quetzal mused aloud. The city was frightening her – her, who had been born and raised in Menzoberranzan.

"You don't want to know," the girl shuddered. She seemed to make a decision. "My name's Shoran. What's yours?"

"Quetzal," Quetzal said.

"That's a nice name," the girl said, in an automatic sounding voice.

Section 14, MC1

The scythe carefully cut a hole through the wall with its very sharp edge.

After a few seconds, Death and the wolf stepped out into another alley. A few shadows began to move away from them, then settled back.

Death looked at the hopeless-looking excuses for humans huddled there, for shelter, then walked carefully towards the exit of the alley, stopping there. He motioned for the Zak-wolf to continue.

The sky was full of floating junk, such that the sky was completely obscured. They didn't know this, but every day the rad-shields of the immense city kicked in, shielding the populace from the sun's deadly radiation, the ozone layer having given up years ago.

Most of the world's humanity had banded together into giant Mega Cities, and the seas alternatively sterile and blue or sterile and deadly, even more deadly than the Ankh.

It was the result of several disastrous wars, which left the third stone from the sun exhausted and crippled, plodding on.

Plodding on, in the sure realization that one more disastrous war may destroy all life from its surface.

***

Chapter 15: Cubes

Level 10, Cubes, MC1

Quite a few levels below Quetzal's cell were the cells of the few Level 10 life-imprisoned prisoners, those who had committed horrific crimes. There were only a few, as the others had had to be exterminated. Level Nine only held one occupant and Level Eight however, many.

The various gibbering, snarls, hoots, and whatever obscure sound a general homicidal psychopath makes resounded on the uncaring white walls of the bottommost levels.

Inside one cell was a complete stasis of the strongest blue. What being that hit the electric field would immediately freeze and die.

Except in this case. Something was held firmly by the stasis, and didn't seem to be dying. Now and then, something monstrous would move inside the odd-shaped cocoon. As if the thing's skin was crawling, literally.

From what we may make out from this safe distance, it is certainly odd. There doesn't seem to be any features that would identify it as human, though it is certainly human-shaped. There is, for example, the abrupt stop of any form under the waist or so, that twirled and tapered into a smoky, solidified end.

There wasn't much we can make out of its face and features, but for that we feel a sense of absolute relief. The plate outside its cell read simply: Judge Death.

The Judges thought that mere human contrivance could stop so supernatural a creature, but they were wrong. The stasis field just slowed it down.

It had been held here for many years, and it was slowly, but surely, breaking out. More precise observers noted as the thing's skin rippled again.

It had been the only movement for many years.

It had been the only sign of life for many years.

The Judges thought it would never get out.

They were, sadly, wrong. As you watch, the skin suddenly contracts, then expands abruptly. The stasis field holds, but a certain force that could loosely be called friction generated an equal force in the opposite direction.

The force, a crackling blue line of electricity, is guided up the small shaft for the release of harmful (to the Justice Department) ozone or radioactive molecules. It flickers through the shaft, then passes through the excellent metal conductor.

The force leaps through the metal's sea of electrons, with the ease of a dolphin through the sea. Through the particles, it gains in charge, until it surfaces on:

A control panel, all switches, buttons, fail safes, and levers. The force curls and forms a vaguely human-like hand. Two Judges on duty inside the control room stand up, their hands holding their weapons.

"Wha...?" was all that one of them could utter, before the electric hand flickered forward, sluggish and easily visible due to the total lack of cooperation of the randomly moving air molecules, towards them, as true as an arrow.

With instinct, they raised their Lawgivers, the special guns, and fired. The energy bolts were absorbed, but before they could react, it strangled the first Judge. The second watched, mesmerized, as traces of lightning arced through his colleague.

The Judge was still standing. Then he whirled, firing quick bursts into the other Judge. "Jamie?" the other Judge asked, in astonishment. Then he looked down, as if in a dream, and collapsed. In front of him, Jamie staggered forward to the controls, and started pushing buttons and pulling levers. Then he stumbled over to a black mouthpiece.

"You are released by the order of Judge Death. Obey him and you will live and rule Mega...City...One," Jamie rasped laboriously, then collapsed on the control panel, dead.

The electricity darted out, hovered over the controls, then plunged back in the metal.

In the special cell, the stasis went off, and Judge Death uncurled like a sleeping cat.

Level 2, Cubes, MC1

"What was that about?" Quetzal inquired, as the cell door slid open. In front of them, the opposite door was also open. Prisoners were streaming out excitedly, drunk with freedom.

"Judge Death!" the girl said, looking pale.

"Who?" Quetzal said sharply, holding on to the girl's shoulder as she tried to follow their cellmates out of the 'cube'.

"He's an evil spirit who thinks he's the Judge to Life," the girl said conspiratorially, "But if he can get us out of here, I think he's ok."

Quetzal released the girl, puzzled, then walked out of the open door with a certain horrible premonition.

The sight of Judges approaching the mutinous group with a lot of the guns confirmed it. In her pocket, the spider jewel hummed insistently.

"I know," Quetzal murmured.

The tide of rebellious humanity swelled onto the Judges like a breaking dam. Overwhelmed, the Judges held their ground, shooting, kicking and maiming, but it pressed on, overwhelming and unstoppable.

Then the people rushed out of the open door, with a lot of joyful cries. Quetzal picked her way delicately past the fallen, to the Judges. Their necks were broken, and their eyes were blank.

She put out a hand towards one of the guns, wondering briefly why the crowd had not claimed it.

The spider jewel grew hot in her pocket. She withdrew her hand, and it cooled down. Frowning, she tried again, but again she was rebuffed.

Quetzal shoved forward a body, and placed his hand on the gun.

Seconds later, she looked out warily from the door of the cell she had bolted into. There was a fair-sized crater where that gun had been.

The other gun had skidded close to her. She stared at it, then walked back to where what remained of the Judges. With some effort, she tugged off their heavy gloves, then threw one accurately onto the gun. It didn't react.

She shrugged, slipping on the glove she was holding, then walked over, picking off the other one and wearing it. When she reached down for the Lawgiver, the jewel made no objection.

The gun was heavier than she had expected, and rather bulky. Quetzal had no intention of holding it all day, so she walked back to the Judge. There was a gun-shaped sheath-strap on his leg. With some more effort and figuring, she unbuckled it, then buckled it onto her leg. Not a very good fit, but good enough.

Shoving the gun inside, the cleric robe covered it neatly. Quetzal sauntered out of the door, to the clear sound of alarms sounding.

Worldview, North American Plate.

The magical drain of pulling all of them into such a decaying world was pushed out from the jewel in millions of thaums of magic. That had been the reason why the jewel had been 'saving' for.

Magic requires belief, but when there was enough magic, it would work. Such was the state of things.

The continental North American Plate, however, absorbed the magic. The stress sang into the pitted and decomposing crust, bending it forwards, backwards, and generally in all directions, at once.

The center of this was a closed down shop in Mega City One. The tremors were building up, but slowly.

A flask of forgotten water shook, and its clear, liquid surface rippled.

Outside Justice Department, MC1

The wolf stopped abruptly. In a goodly distance in front of them were many Judges on some strange devices.

Death had seen the devices before – had even sat on one, once. The one he had rode on spoke in the language of the Beat, that of Music with Rocks In.

This one spoke in the language of sheer destructive capacity.

There seemed to be an involved siege. Clearly visible was the stiff, formal figure of 'Judge Dredd', apparently giving orders.

There wasn't any one the Judges could threaten Death with now. Quetzal was somewhere inside the building, and their weapons couldn't kill the Zak-wolf.

I SUGGEST WE WALK THROUGH THEM Death said, then motioned for the wolf to go.

The Zak-wolf gave Death an incredulous look, but the seven-foot skeleton was already walking with determination towards the ring of Judges around the Justice Department.

At ten meters, the back judges turned, and fired.

The energy blasts passed through Death. One of the bolts fell onto the scythe, and split into two neat halves.

Death ignored them as he stalked through, their blows passing through his person, as he generated a lot of chaos. Shrugging, he reached the closed doors of strange metal, and walked through them.

A furry white thing reached the doors, whining and barking in protest.

SORRY, Death said, in a voice like the closing of a crypt somewhere behind the door, and the sliver of thin scythe blade passed through the door, slicing a blue line behind it.

The Zak-wolf, huffing with irritation, leaped through the wolf-shaped door just as the Judges opened fire. The impervious doors withstood the bullets, although a lucky one zipped through the hole, making an interesting dent on the ground.

Death and the Zak-wolf ignored the dent and stalked/padded on.

Weapon Armory, Justice Department, MC1

The overhead voice that seemed to come from the speakers directed her (and quite a few of the criminals) into a white, sterile room.

Weapons, mostly guns, lined the walls and racks. Five very dead Judges lay on the ground, as some of the eighth level criminals had dealt with them. Quetzal definitely did not want to look at those criminals, who reminded her of human demons. They certainly were lethal enough.

The rack labeled "Confiscated" was ignored as most of the criminals struggled to arm themselves with the latest in weapon technology. There were a few minor explosions.

Quetzal walked over to the rack, opening it cautiously. When nothing happened, she took out her sabers, flute and tome, and one very irritated snake whip. It hissed sullenly at her, but she put it back on her belt, first untying the various string that was holding it in a harmless state.

Most of the criminals were enjoying themselves. She ignored them, sauntering back out of the door. Now, if she could just find a nice, quiet place to stay until the bloody quarter-filled jewel decided to kick in some magic...

Magic. As she 'thought' of the word, something rose in her mind. A certain power, that throbbed and filled her very being.

That was strange. She had never felt that before. As her mind probed carefully around the edges, promptly giving her a headache, she had the image of spiders. Millions of them, centered on an unearthly, beautiful drow female face.

Oh, no.

Council Chamber, Justice Department, MC1

McGruder, Mega City One's chief judge, was standing up. "It appears that the criminals have escaped. All of them," she said.

"The Judges outside Justice Department have laid siege to the building, but something has been controlling the doors," one of the Judges said.

"Find out what it is!" McGruder was quickly losing her famed cool. The architect of Justice Department had designed the building to be impregnable, probably because he had never thought of what would have happened if the Judges were pushed into a tight corner inside the building, and with most of the Judge population outside the building.

As such, the radioactive devices had shuttered down, the doors were all tightly closed and bullet proof, and the air ducts were recycling air.

In such circumstances, the sacrifice of Justice Department would be considered. However, it so happened that the Justice Department was a bomb. A very big one devised to take out most of Mega City One with it.

The architect had, apparently, considered criminal mutiny. But he apparently assumed that all Judges had already evacuated. McGruder cursed the idiot.

Then the large barred doors to the Chamber burst open. The eighth level criminals streamed in.

At their head was the horrid shape of something very familiar. It was the stasis caged being of before. Now, without the blue outer covering, it was mostly a disgusting shade of pink. It looked like what a Creator would have done, growing sick of the entire business of flesh and organs, putting instead just bone and a skin layer. There was a gaping mouth with human-like teeth. The thing floated above the floor, the waist tapering into a pink trail.

It was wearing bits of Judge uniform, complete with a helmet, that looked as though it had been salvaged.

"Judge Death," McGruder whispered, even as she drew her Lawgiver.

It was over in a few seconds. Judge Death floated into the podium, and grinned evilly at the gathered. "Any newss?" he rasped, in a chilling voice.

"Someone has entered the building, Judge Death," said one of the eighth level criminals.

"Sshow me,"

A monitor was turned towards Judge Death, and one of the criminals plugged some sort of keyboard into it. After a few seconds of industrious typing, the screen cleared, to show nothing.

It flickered into a variety of scenes, then showed a black robed figure with a scythe, stalking through the rubble. A large white wolf padded next to it.

"It sseemss one of my brethren has come to vissit." Judge Death hissed, looking pleased. "Ssend him here."

The image flickered onwards, automatically; it seemed, showing a lot of carnage. Then it showed another robed figure. The figure had bone-white hair and dark skin, and was walking stealthily in the shadows.

"Drow?" Judge Death took a sharp intake of breath, metaphorically.

Interlude: Earth Mantle

Underneath all the floating crusts of the Earth is the red-hot, molten magma. Hundreds of miles thick, it constantly seeks cracks to seep into the surface, forming new land occasionally.

Without the knowledge of several generations of geophysicists, however, things did live inside it. Most were spirit like, feeding on the rich metallic hot mantle. The most outstanding was Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent.

A long, snakelike dragon, sleeping, its tail in its mouth.

Vikings, warlike people, had speculated on this, and had reached (strangely) a conclusion: Jormungand would rise at Ragnarok, the Last Battle. And also built up a whole series of possibly erroneous conclusions, including that of gods.

Jormungand, contrary to popular belief, was not living in the deepest parts of the sea. The dragon lived under the sea, under the crust itself, His hide sparkling with what was left of the world's magic, which kept Him, safe against the unbelievable heat.

He had slept peacefully since the beginning of the world.

Now, tremors directly above His head thundered downwards, disturbing Him.

The Midgard Serpent opened one protected, multifaceted eye, which was as large as seas.

House Do'Urden, Menzoberranzan

Drizzt, neglected from the story for so long, is going to surface.

His face was scarred from the whips, and he could hardly stand from the pain. Beside him, Belwar was in a worse state, just breathing.

The cursed clerics of House Do'Urden chanted the last syllable of their spell, and a vast surge of magic formed an enlarged version of a magical scrying bowl.

It showed his sister, who was walking quietly and carefully. The close up image showed her larger than life. As Drizzt watched, the side of her robe flowed tightly, showing a bulky, tube-like contrivance on her leg.

"Lloth has spoken," Matron Malice smiled. "Quetzal has the gun."

She looked at Drizzt, who tried to stand painfully, against his chains, but gave up. Beside Drizzt, Nhaz'aer whimpered.

Vierna was holding the onyx figurine of Guenhwyvar. Drizzt looked at it hungrily, and found he missed the panther very much.

"What... will you do?" Drizzt managed. His mind was feeling very blank.

"We will kill her, of course," Malice said matter-of-factly. Her hand pointed forward towards the image, and started to mumble a spell.

Nhaz'aer growled in rage, slightly muffled by the muzzle.

Malice laughed, then screamed as immense gouts of fire burst outwards, searing the wolf's muzzle, and also burning into her.

By the time the servants gingerly beat out the fire, Malice was a smoking heap on the ground.

Drizzt turned his head, his hair slightly singed. What remained of the wolf was a tattered heap of burning fur.

His throat constricted painfully, and a fine mist covered his stinging eyes. "No," he whispered.

Then his eyes snapped upwards, with a gleam of pure, enraged fire inside them. With the strength of the enraged he pulled away from the drow guards holding him, kicking into them with fury, then turning onto those holding Belwar.

Before the stunned drow could react, Drizzt, dragging the wounded Burrow-Warden, had plunged forward, snatching the onyx panther figurine, then charged headlong into the image. It rippled, then was still.

***

Chapter 16: Rebels

Halls of Justice, Justice Department, MC1

Quetzal stopped, her eyes going wide at the apparition in front of her. Judge Death smiled, or what loosely could be called a smile. She was suddenly devoutly thankful that the salvaged visor on his or its head covered most of his face.

"What in the Nine Hells?" she muttered.

Judge Death floated closer. "Ssalutationss to one of the Chossen of Lloth." he hissed.

Quetzal blinked, then rallied magnificently. "Greetings from Lloth," she said coldly, in her best Briza mimic.

"May I assk why you are in thiss city?" Judge Death asked.

"Business," Quetzal said, flatly.

"You were captured by the Judgess," Judge Death said.

"Part of a plan," Quetzal said, flatly, "I am to retrieve a weapon in this world for the glory of the Spider Queen."

"Are you really drow?" the thing asked, "Sshow me."

Quetzal snapped the snake-whip from her belt, and the heads of the snake hissed at Judge Death.

A massive human, his body a network of ugly scars, lumbered forward. "Trickery," he growled, his eyes with the gleam of madness, "Kill." With that short summation of what he was to do, he charged, with the lumbering speed of an elephant.

"Wael!" To Quetzal's considerable surprise, the words rose in her throat, and her finger pointed at the advancing human. To the human's even greater surprise, an immense force took hold, slamming him into a few more humans.

She looked grimly at the human, affecting the air as though she had been going to do that all the time, then looked coolly at the other humans. "Any more?" she flexed her fingers.

The human stood up groggily. "That not stop me," he said harshly, and lumbered forward again. This time, Quetzal felt herself stepping aside. She pointed her whip at the human, and he tripped up as he passed.

The snake whip, unbidden, bit again and again into the human, who cried out in agony as his muscles started to snap and contract beyond endurance, the cold poison racing through his veins.

Judge Death watched, and nodded.

First Floor, Justice Department, MC1

Death stalked over a body, and noticed something strange. The soul's blue line was corroded and thin, snapping when the soul twisted forward. There didn't seem to be a Death in this world.

The Zak-wolf sniffed, then bounded forward in a great leap. Then it skidded to a stop on the polished floor as the procession approached them.

Quetzal was walking next to a vaguely human apparition, which was wearing a Judge helmet. The thing floated over in front of them.

"Welcome, brother," it said to Death.

Death stiffened, as much as a seven-foot skeleton could, his empty sockets boring into the pinkish floating spirit. YOU ARE THE DEATH OF THIS WORLD? He said at last.

"Yess. I am Judge Death." It said.

Ground Floor, Justice Department, MC1

By a lot of squeezing and carving, Judge Dredd, a few Judges, and the Shok-Tac troops that were collected from the various minor Justice Department stations.

Shok-Tac troops were drawn from the iso-cubes, lobed, streamlined, and above all, expendable. They were the fodder of the small invading force.

Their minds were now keyed into a simple command as they started to deploy into squads: See a non-Judge human, kill a non-Judge human.

The Judges nodded at each other, then split up, three Judges in each squad, with one senior Judge commanding.

Judge Dredd led his squad cautiously up through the blood-splattered wreckage, carefully winding their way up to the topmost floor, as they had been commanded to do so. Dredd was the best Judge in Mega City One, and had to handle the area with the most activity.

His permanent scowl deepened, as the squad started, cat-like, up the stairs, the Shok-Tac troops in front, occasionally opening fire.

Top floor, Justice Department, MC1

"That iss your guard?" Judge Death looked at the Zak-wolf.

"He is a werewolf," Quetzal said calmly. She gestured to Death, and he took out Zak's chain mail and swords from his robe after a bit of rummaging. Quetzal put the stuff down inside a small, empty room, and the wolf slunk inside.

The door shut for a while, then opened, to show Zaknafein adjusting his scabbards. His eyes were rather relieved.

Quetzal nodded imperiously, then they continued upwards into the now-cleared council chamber, Zaknafein obediently walking close to Quetzal, his hands deliberately on his swords.

It has been some time, Khazid'hea's voice sounded in his mind.

Time enough, Zaknafein replied.

Judge Death gestured for them to seat themselves on either sides of the council table. Quetzal sat down next to Death, who sat at the right of the self-called Judge. Zaknafein stood behind Quetzal, acting the role of the drow bodyguard.

"Ladiess and Gentlemen," Judge Death hissed, "I would introduce my brother, the Death of the Disscworld."

Death nodded from his seat. He found 'Judge' Death infinitely disturbing.

The crowd clapped, and there were some cheers.

"Quetzal Do'Urden, of the Underdark," Judge Death said. There were some angry mutters, but Zaknafein started to draw his swords, and the crowd quieted. Word had reached them that the female had pointed her whip at an eighth level criminal, then beat him to death. What would a sword do?

At this point, the doors burst open unceremoniously. A human stepped in, his face white. "Judges are in the building!" he cried out.

"Kill the bearer of bad tidingss," Judge Death said offhandedly. The crowd fell upon the unfortunate victim.

Inside Death's eye sockets, the blue pinpoints flared with fire. IS THAT ALLOWED? He asked, not wanting to put Quetzal and Zak in danger by an outright accusation.

"Yess, brother. In thiss kingdom of mine." Judge Death started to laugh, a truly evil laugh. "Now, we sshall have to deal with thesse intruderss. Arm yoursself, my children. Exterminate the Judgess, but bring back to me Judge Dredd."

The crowd roared, shoving several advanced weaponry into the air, then surging out of the door.

"What do you think, Chossen of Lloth?" Judge Death looked upon Quetzal.

She forced herself to look upon Judge Death with indifference. "I care not," she said. "Only that my transport will ready itself soon to take me back to my House."

Zaknafein's eyes widened briefly in the shadows, but Judge Death nodded again.

Halls of Justice, Justice Department, MC1

They were nearing the topmost floor, until they heard the roar of a crowd charging down. There was the clink of some metallic things bouncing down the stairs towards them.

"Shoot!" Dredd ordered, recognizing the things. The Shok-Tac troops, obligingly, did.

There were now sporadic explosions, which killed off a few of the Shok-Tac troops, but left the rest of them unscathed.

There were many cheers above, and Dredd gestured them forward.

The crowd was still celebrating when the Shok-Tac burst out of the door, guns blazing.

Dredd raised his Lawgiver, and fired with precision into the crowd, followed by the other two Judges, mowing down most of the common criminals.

Then They stepped into view. The criminals from Level seven downward killed the Shok-Tac easily, and the remaining troops started to try and take cover.

"Drokk!" Dredd swore. The lethal ones appeared in the corridor in front and behind them.

Judges were trained extensively in combat, and know how to handle every situation perfectly. Dredd's wrist flickered, and then the Judges dived into the stairway, the Shok-Tac covering them, as the shrapnel grenades detonated with an ear-splitting blast.

The Shok-Tac reformed and took the front lines. Ahead was the topmost floor's door, and one Shok-Tac, directed by Dredd, opened the door.

The door, expectedly, blew open, and the enemies charged again down the stairs. The Judges whirled in precision, firing blasts down the stairs where more of the criminals were coming up.

The reason why they had chosen the stairs was that in close fighting against superior numbers, it does good to narrow the chances. Literally, in this case. The emergency stairs only allowed three or so humans in a row, shoulder to shoulder.

The Shok-Tac, unthinking, was using all sorts of explosive weaponry, while the crowd, instructed to take Dredd alive, and was trying not to. The Judges, without any prerogative except to retake Justice Department, were also using all sorts of interesting weapons, whose effects should not be written down if this story is to retain a PG rating.

Council Chamber, Justice Department, MC1

The chamber doors burst open for the second time, but this time, instead of frightened human, humans wearing gleaming armor-like clothing burst in, and the sound of gunfire filled the air.

They were using now some sort of intense energy bolt, which was brighter that which had been shot at Death. The bolts managed to destroy, after an interesting few seconds, the others inside the chamber.

The hair on Quetzal's nape stood up. The particles were charged with some sort of energy, which was distorting things, which had a certain sickly odor...

They didn't know it was radioactive rays, but then again, they didn't need to know. Again, the effects should not be told unless the story decides to have an NC-17 rating.

Judge Death accelerated forward in a blinding flash of speed, and stuck one sharp-fingered hand through one of the armored humans.

Beside her, Quetzal heard Death's sharp intake. "What?" she whispered.

WE CANNOT KILL! WE MAY ONLY LIBERATE THE SOUL! Death said, in a coldly angry tone.

"Too bad, I suppose," Zak said calmly, "How much time do we have?"

Quetzal checked. Although the level had increased a little, it was a little. "A few years," she said sourly.

As they watched, Judge Death finished off more of the humans, even though they were firing all sorts of bolts at him.

"Bugger," Quetzal observed. Only one human was left, and she recognized him as the much-talked about Judge Dredd. "Don't you think we should leave now?"

"Where to?" Zak reminded her.

"Somewhere other than this," Quetzal shuddered, then turned to look at Death. Except that Death wasn't there.

"Time to die, Dredd," Judge Death floated closer to the basilisk-faced Judge Dredd.

Dredd merely gripped the Lawgiver more tightly, preparing to fire. Then a blue-edged line appeared in the middle of Judge Death.

Death held his scythe, and grinned. WE MAY NOT KILL. TO KILL, TO BE EVIL AND TO FEAR LIFE, IS TO HAVE LIFE ITSELF. AND THAT, IS MY FORTE.

Judge Death opened his mouth, to shout a denial, but then started to fade, then dissipated like a minor breeze.

DOWN! Death commanded in leaden tones, WHEN A DEATH DIES BEFORE HIS TIME, HIS MAGIC LEAKS INTO THE AIR!

"Wonderful," Zak groaned, as the ground beneath him started to shake, like jelly.

North American Plate, Beneath MC1

The plates shuddered under the double blow of the spider jewel's passage and that of the destroying of Death.

Shuddered, and started to push apart like tearing paper.

The magma rose, pulled upwards and Jormungand idly opened the other eye.

Council Chamber, Justice Department, MC1

"Jovus!" Dredd snarled then whirled at the black-robed figure. "What did you do?"

ENDED THE DEATH OF THIS WORLD, AND ALSO SAVED YOUR LIFE, IF I MAY ADD. Death said mildly.

"You said you cannot kill!" Zaknafein protested, coming into view.

I ENDED THE DEATH. KILLING IS THE TAKING AWAY OF THE LIFE FORCE OF A SOUL. THIS DEATH HAS NO SOUL, AND NO EMPATHY. KILLING TO HIM, IS PLEASURE. The last word was said in angry, leaden tones.

"Who the drokk are you clowns?" Dredd growled.

"Visitors from another world," Zak said wearily, "And if we had a choice now, we'd go, believe me."

"We stay," Quetzal's voice was unearthly, and shimmered with echoes. Zak turned in astonishment.

Quetzal's lavender eyes were blazing with light, a purple light. The eyes seemed to have lost their pupils. She strode forward, and was holding her whip.

"Quetzal?" Zak asked, "Is something wrong?"

"We stay," Quetzal said again, her unearthly voice echoing off the walls. Then she started to levitate upwards, the force of her mind staggering. The ceiling gave a mechanical creak, then the center collapsed downwards into a perfect eight-sided pattern.

Dredd fired his gun, but Quetzal merely looked down and laughed. She raised her hands, and the energy bolt was absorbed into some force field. The light around her was iridescent purple.

When she was ten meters or so above the wrecked ceiling, she raised her hands. "I summon, thee, Jormungand, in the name of Lloth."

The power of the words knocked down the three standing below. As Zaknafein scrambled to an upright position, he noticed that Quetzal's robe was now embroidered more elaborately than any drow could have done, and the air around her crackled with purple light.

"Lloth," he said, in awe and not a little fear, then grimly followed Judge Dredd, who was climbing up what looked like a ladder he had pulled down from some hidden hatch in the wall, and was determinedly climbing upwards, followed by the black-robed Death.

***

Chapter 17: The Midgard Serpent

Mantle, North American Plate

Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent, heard His name. Felt the summons. He started to rise, idly, with the mantle, to the widening crack above Him. He accelerated, his long, sinuous body weaving from side to side, like an immense snake.

The summons compelled Him, and He shrank in size, to fit the widening crack in the earth's crust above him. With a roar, He surfaced, to see who dared to disturb His sleep.

Roof, Justice Department, MC1

The first thing Dredd did when he reached the top of the building was to fire his gun. Then to duck under the half-raised wings of the giant eagle statue as the bolt reflected off something and zinged back.

Zaknafein managed barely to keep from losing a leg, then looked at his hand in astonishment. Where he moved it, there was the faint trace of octarine, like what you get when you move a lighted sparkler in the night.

OCTARINE IS THE EIGHT COLOR, THE COLOR OF MAGIC. Death commented. THERE APPEARS TO BE AN ASTONISHING AMOUNT OF MAGIC IN THIS PLACE.

"Is that so?" Zak muttered, looking wildly upwards where Quetzal was levitating in the air, robes flowing around her.

Then she raised her hands, and threw back her head. There was a crack, and the ground began to shake. With a roar beyond sound itself, it jerked, and then there was a sound like a million pieces of paper tearing at the same time.

"I suggest we take cover!" Zak shouted at Death, sprinting over to the eagle, the only non-flat area on the building.

The ground, as if on cue, jerked backwards, rumbling. From the arguable safety of the eagle, overlooking the ground, the three watched, differences momentarily forgotten.

A long crack opened, further in the city, marked by a red glow and buildings tumbling down with a crash. A stench filled the air, even from this distance, and the earth seemed to move backwards, the red glow becoming a marker between two sides of the city. Then there was a hiss, as boiling magma spurted upwards through the wound in the earth, rushing down the streets as lava, a slow river of burning rock.

The ground continued to pull backwards, in a grinding roar.

The rumblings stopped, eventually, but from up here they could hear the screams, the screams of those left on the streets and in the fallen buildings as the inexorable river flowed on, consuming all in its path.

"Drokk!" Dredd snarled, as something reared out of the chasm. Something large beyond imagination rose over the city. Its eyes, bright lanterns, that were larger than Zak himself. It had a long horn that would provide a lifetime of ivory supply, which extended from its immense head, curving upwards slightly, lesser horns at the side. Iridescent sail-like fins extended from the back of its head, as if for decorative purposes. Its body, a giant snake, with mirror-like gold and silver scales, but what captured their attention was the gaping maw.

As they watched, it threw back its head, and roared, in a voice like thunder.

Quetzal laughed, and in a great voice commanded, "Come to me."

The thing swayed, then lurched forward out of the crack, winding from side to side, its head upright, like an immense cobra. It had no limbs now, which were useless to a sleeping dragon in a world of fire.

It didn't seem to be harmed at all by the lava, which merely slid over it, like a drop of water over a lily leaf.

It stopped a distance from Quetzal, lowering its huge head to her level. An aura extended around it, of octarine fire, the concentration of all the magic on this diseased world.

Quetzal's mouth formed the first word of a Spell, of Lloth's devising. They were wrong to believe that the gods could not reach them, so far away. A god, or goddess, in this case, just needs people to believe. If she so wishes, two may be enough. But for such a serpent as a servant, that goddess would be powerful indeed.

"We must stop her!" Zak hissed.

WE COULD TRY STOPPING HIM FIRST, Death pointed to Dredd, who had stalked out from the gold eagle, directly below Quetzal.

"Magic's all around us. Can I use it?" Zak asked, his eyes fixed on the rather single-minded Judge.

YOU ARE A CREATURE OF MAGIC ITSELF. Death said, then realized Zak was climbing the gold eagle with a lot of effort. He nodded, in understanding.

Zak reached the top of the eagle, as Dredd began to raise his Lawgiver again. He straddled the large gold head awkwardly, then placed his hands flat on the hard surface. "Live," he said, putting four centuries or so of weapon master command into his voice.

Octarine fire leapt out from his hands, hissing as it joined into the gold eagle. "Fly for me," Zak continued. There was a grinding sound beneath him.

"Go!" Zak cried, hoping this would work. Then he realized why so many were attached to the mage class. There was this point during a spell when every nerve tingled with white-hot energy, a feeling of absolute ecstasy as the magic channeled out of you.

The gold eagle, jerkily, opened its wings wide. Its feathers were now as clear as any living bird, soft to the touch, though flowing as if they were liquid gold. Then it leaped off the building, flaring its wings at the last instant, and swooping upwards like a swallow, buoyed by the intense magic.

Quetzal looked down at Dredd, who was determinedly firing his gun at the dragon. She raised a hand.

Then Jormungand shrieked as the eagle tore into His neck with metal talons, scoring a scratch between one of the hard scales. His thrashing body took out another tall building, and a few people beneath. The Judges, having wisely vacated to an elevated distance, stared at the gold eagle in astonishment. The eagle was the symbol of the Justice Department, a symbol of Justice.

The Midgard Serpent turned, too quickly, and opened His immense mouth. The eagle swerved to the side as Zak braced himself for a gout of flame, but the serpent, instead, closed His jaws on thin air.

"It can't breathe fire!" Zak shouted, in sheer relief. Then Jormungand's eyes glittered. Raw magic picked up the eagle, smashing it into what was left of Justice Department roof.

Zaknafein was, by some dint of levitation and a throb that was going to build into a headache, hanging on to the edge of one minor horn. He was also cursing in a continuous stream of words that spanned quite a few languages.

Jormungand shook His head, roaring, and Zak made the mistake of climbing onto the main horn. Quetzal immediately pointed at him, and the bolt of energy hit him fully in the chest, hurling him downwards.

He landed on something soft, though the landing was rough enough to knock the breath from his body. Dredd looked at him, as if the Judge had just rescued and righted some weapon, instead of a fellow person, then the eagle wheeled in an arc, Zak frantically grabbing hold of two large feathers.

"How?" he asked, when the eagle did another magnificent turn, avoiding a lightning bolt.

Dredd shrugged, then took aim with the Lawgiver. A bullet pinged off the central horn.

The Midgard Serpent turned, and the head reared forward. Jormungand, maddened with rage and the presence of an alien mind inside His head, snapped at the diving eagle.

Zak noticed that Dredd, somehow, had gotten the eagle under his control. "Take us above it!" he shouted, and drew Khazid'hea. The sword hummed with anticipation, the blade, amplified by the raw magic, was burning with bright flame.

The eagle banked vertically before a building, Dredd somehow holding on through sheer will, Zak merely holding on and trying to keep his last meal from coming out along with his stomach. Then it flew upwards, hovering a meter over the large horn.

Zak nodded, jumping off the eagle, praying that the Serpent would not move, say, five meters from the spot, and so he wouldn't end up being cooked in the lava below.

He landed rather awkwardly on a horn, promptly slid off, and managed to catch hold of one immense fin. Scrambling upwards to get a hold on another horn in front of him, he caught an energy bolt, that hit his leg.

Zak bit off another curse, then found he was directly below the main horn. Khazid'hea went out, then came down in a sweeping arc.

There was a hiss as magic met magic, and then the sword began to cut through the hard scales.

Jormungand shrieked.

Roof, Justice Department, MC1

"Fool," Quetzal said in a great voice that was not her own, "Do you dare challenge me?"

"Make a guess," Dredd shouted back, as the eagle dived towards the floating dark elf, talons extended.

Quetzal held up and hand, palm facing Dredd and the eagle stopped, suspended in mid air. Dredd hurled something, unruffled, and the thing detonated in front of Quetzal, spraying shrapnel.

Nothing happened, when the light cleared. Quetzal laughed, and raised her hand palm up. Dredd floated upwards, snarling. Then she flicked her hand, and he fell downwards, towards the magma.

"Let that be an example to all who disobey Lloth." The voice rang out over the city.

Dredd, falling, fell on something soft. "This is getting to be a habit," and he glanced at his savior.

Death grinned at him. Dredd had landed on what looked like a white horse, which was galloping on thin air.

MEET BINKY, Death said.

"Binky?"

MY HORSE, Death said proudly.

"Yeah? Your 'horse' could take us up to that floating drokker and we can shoot the drokk out of her."

THE BULLETS BOUNCE OFF HER, Death pointed out. BUT PERHAPS THIS WOULD NOT. His bony hand waved the scythe, which made a tearing sound as air molecules split on its edge.

Jormungand, MC1

It was so easy. The reader may remark on this, but predictably, Zaknafein was all for easy.

Khazid'hea cut through with the ease that gave it its name, then the blood spurted out, acidly burning part of his chain mail. The scabbard, and the normal sword, fell downwards in a spiral, into the lava.

The Serpent wailed, then shuddered, and fell downwards. Zak, on a reflex, stuck the sword into the much abused side horn, and used the leverage to get a handhold, for all that it would be worth.

Time to die, now...

Roof, Justice Department, MC1

Quetzal wailed as the dragon fell. The lava flowed away from its thrashing body, as if blocked by some shield generated by the intense magic.

Her angry stare fell full on the advancing horse and its two riders, and her hands clapped together.

Nothing happened. Quetzal blinked, then Quetzal, the real Quetzal, looked out from her eyes. "What happened?" she asked automatically, then rather fuzzily realized she was a long, long distance above the ground.

According to the laws of gravity, she started to fall, too numbed to even generate a levitation spell.

A bony hand caught hold of her, and she looked into the eye sockets of Death. One of the blue lights went off, Death's equivalent of a wink.

DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? Death asked.

"Death. Where is Zak?" Quetzal asked, then she looked down. "What is that?"

"You summoned it," Dredd snarled, behind. He was pointing his gun quite accurately in the direction of her head.

STOP THAT. LLOTH POSSESSED HER, AND NOW SHE IS BACK, WHEN ONE OF THE GODDESS' BELIEVERS IS GONE. Death explained, looking sadly down.

Binky galloped down, towards the now still form of the Midgard Serpent, below.

As they watched, the Serpent started to shrink quickly, then started to change its shape. Into what resembled a dark elf, more or less. Into the image of what every dark elf male probably aspired to become, all muscle and lithe sleekness. He seemed to be wearing in some sort of chain mail, which resembled scales.

On top was the still form of Zaknafein, holding Khazid'hea firmly.

The lava was cooling, in a perfect circle around the two. Binky stopped inches before the black surface. THE SERPENT CANNOT DIE. IT WILL TAKE THE SHAPE OF THE ONE WHO KILLED IT. Death said somberly.

Quetzal swung off, landing neatly next to the two. She knelt down, gently touching Zak with one hand.

Zak's swordless hand shot out, catching her hand. He made a sound like a growl, turned his head to look at her, blinked, then passed out just as promptly.

"He's not dead," Quetzal said in relief. Then she prodded the still form of the Serpent elf, then started back when he stirred.

A bullet bounced off some shield around what was the Midgard Serpent, making a crack in the wall opposite them.

"Stop it," Quetzal snapped at Dredd. The elf looked up, with eyes that were the amber-gold promise of sunset.

Then he looked down at the unconscious Zak, and touched the dark elf's shoulder with one ebon-skinned hand.

Zaknafein stirred, then stretched and sat up. "Who is that?" he asked, as he looked at the anxious face of the Serpent elf.

IT SEEMS YOU HAVE A SERVANT. FOR A YEAR, AT LEAST. Death said.

"Servant?" Quetzal asked.

THE MIDGARD SERPENT WILL SERVE ITS 'KILLER' FOR A YEAR. Death shrugged. He seemed perfectly built for that motion.

"Tradition?" Zak asked wearily.

A STRANGE GEIS THAT NO ONE KNOWS THE REASON FOR, Death replied. THE JEWEL?

"Full and ready," Quetzal said, then looked to Dredd. "Thank you, I suppose. No hard feelings."

Dredd grunted, and somehow landed, through a precise half-jump, onto the cleared, cooling circle. "Good luck, wherever you are going." He said grudgingly, "Though Jovus knows how we are going to fix the city."

Quetzal looked to the lava-filled street, to the wrecked buildings and the burning city. And finally to the immense chasm. She leaned back, and laughed.

Transition

"I think we can make it to the Discworld in one jump," Quetzal said conversationally. They were in the gray space between the reality of worlds. "To drop off our animated skeleton."

WHO ARE YOU CALLING AN ANIMATED SKELETON? Death challenged, but he was grinning, as much as a skeleton could grin.

"You, of course." Quetzal replied.

"No, I don't need you here! I give you to yourself... go away!"

Quetzal barely turned her head. "It seems Zak is having a problem."

THE SERPENT WILL SERVE HIM, WHETHER HE LIKES IT OR NOT. Death said, a trifle smugly.

"I hope Drizzt is well," Quetzal said.

***

Chapter 18: Retribution

"Ook!" The orange colored sack on the table backpedaled, falling off.

"Er, just passing through," Quetzal said, reassuringly. They appeared to be inside the Library of Unseen University.

Magical grimoires on the shelves rustled warningly, but the now-transformed-to-a-dark-elf Serpent looked casually at them, and they subsided with a grumbling of pages.

"Fare you well, then," Quetzal told the tall, black robed skeleton.

I SUPPOSE I SHOULD THANK YOU FOR SHOWING EXCITEMENT MY WAY, Death commented, with another skeletal grin.

"If you could call it excitement," Zak said, sourly.

"Oh yes. Falling off giant dragons and cutting off their heads is pretty much exciting," Quetzal said, with glassy brightness.

Zaknafein glared at her, then at the Librarian orangutan, which was reconsidering the benefits of attacking a werewolf. Especially a werewolf with a sword.

FAREWELL, THEN. I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT IN A FEW HOURS. Death waved to them with one skeletal hand then backed the horse out of the wall, passing through a bookcase.

"Ook Eek Ook!" the orangutan pointed at the Serpent elf.

"Yes, we know." Zak said, then turned to the dark elf. "What are you called?"

The elf looked at him then made a snarling voice. Zak stepped back, and put his hand on his sword. The Serpent elf hastily shut up.

"I think he said his name." Quetzal interposed. The other dark elf looked at her gratefully.

"We can't call him a snarling sound," Zak said, "It's unpronounceable."

"Yeah, and you speak kobold too." Quetzal replied.

"Ook!" the orangutan said, and made a gesture with his hands.

"Er. Snake? Serpent? Serpent, then, but we know that." Zak said, guessing at what the Librarian was trying helpfully to do.

The orangutan sighed, and waddled forward, taking Zak's hand. It was like holding a leather glove.

It led them through the shelves, then stopped and climbed upwards with prehensile feet. After a while, it got back down, and shyly handed Zak a book.

"Serpents of the Universe?" Zak asked.

The dark elf, just as shyly, took the book from Zak, flipping expertly to a page.

"How did you know this?" Zak asked suspiciously.

"He just does, I think." Quetzal said. The dark elf looked relieved.

"Says here, Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent. What kind of name is… hey!" Quetzal kicked him quietly in the shins.

"Shut up, Zak."

Briza looked up from the throne as the multi-hued whirl opened in front of her, and snapped the snake-whip from her belt. Further in front was the portal, which still showed an image of Mega City One.

"Have you retrieved what is rightfully Lloth's?" Briza demanded. The two were towing an extra dark elf companion, who looked around with curiosity. There was something unnerving about him.

Quetzal took out the gun. "Where is Drizzt?"

"Hand me the gun, first." Briza said sharply.

"I don't think so." Zak replied.

"Males may not speak without permission!" Briza snarled.

"Elf? If you would be so kind as to find out where Drizzt is?" Zak made a small mental calculation, which went along the lines of, if Drizzt is not here for Briza to gloat over, and neither was Belwar or Nhaz'aer, then there was something wrong.

Jormungand frowned, then pointed at the image of Mega City One.

"In Mega City One?" Quetzal said in a dangerous voice.

Jormungand shook his head, and looked rather confused.

"A portal then. Are they on this world?" Zak asked, ignoring Briza's angry look.

What was the Midgard Serpent nodded twice.

"Then we find them." Zak said, stalking to the portal.

"Fire!" Briza screamed, and hidden crossbow elves did so, with a click. Jormungand bowed his head, and the bolts stopped in mid air.

"Nice trick," Quetzal said, "But there's something for you, Briza."

The snake whip at her belt hissed, and looked at her. "I can offer you power," it said, in a chorus of hisses.

"Power is transient, as is Life," Quetzal said, "Lloth, are you?"

"Yes. Life need not be transient. You will live, forever."

"No. Strange as it may sound, I am attached to my brother, and my father. Eternal life would be an eternal path of regret, and funerals. I thank you not." Quetzal said, firmly, "The promise of power tempts, but the practical will weigh the benefits, and say no."

"Stupid one," the snakes hissed.

"No. Merely logical, which my brother is not. He would have claimed that his heart is too pure for such corruption, but no heart is truly pure. Not even his. I deny you, Lloth, in the sure knowledge that the only power worth having is the power earned." Quetzal threw the snake whip at Briza, but it hissed and dissolved into air.

"Catch," she said, offhandedly, and threw the gun itself at Briza. Then she wheeled and plunged after Zaknafein, into the portal. The dark elf nodded at nothing in particular, then stepped through, closing the portal behind it.

Behind them was the sound of an immense explosion, and a scream of rage.

Zak appeared in what looked like a place where the Creator had just given up on scenery and made it rain sand. There was that prickly feeling he got as anything got out of any of the circles. "Where are we?" he asked, without turning around. There was a harsh dragonish sound, and then he did turn around. "Oh no. Not you. Where is Quetzal?" Jormungand seemed to find out what shoulders were for, and shrugged. "Right then. We're going to find her." Jormungand made another sound, gesturing wildly. Zak looked on intently for a short period of time, then rolled his eyes. "While we're doing that, I think I'd teach you how to say a proper language." The more or less permanent language rune spell of Quetzal's seemed to give up on non-human tongues.

Then he stopped. Over the sand dune directly ahead, rose a thousand swords, like the teeth of a dragon.

"Damn!"

Time to get back to Belwar, who more or less disappeared from the story with Drizzt.

Belwar appeared in Blingdenstone, more or less.

"Belwar!" King Schnicktick exclaimed, starting from his throne, as the portal spat out the Burrow Warden, then promptly closed behind him.

"Your Majesty," Belwar said weakly, turning around to see if Drizzt were here. He wasn't.

Then, as the Most Honored Burrow Warden had been doing of late, he collapsed into that blissful state of unconsciousness, of cool darkness.

There was a cave. It looked like a cave, at least, and it had been lived in. A crude nest of leaves sat in one side, and there was an exit, filled with light.

For the dark elf, night's moon was a bright illumination.

Quetzal walked out of the entrance, and looked upward, to the great bowl of stars upturned over the blessed earth.

The stars! Not threatening pinpoints of light, but beautiful patterns beyond her comprehension, glinting in endless pictures, that men connected into words, and left them at that.

For Quetzal, they symbolized wonder.

The portal was, intentionally or not, made into a random scattering device, probably twisted by Lloth's magic, as Vierna reasoned out later.

Lloth was the goddess of Chaos, and she believed in creating as much chaos as possible, even by the most interesting means.

The most reliable means was, of course, war.

Right now, she merely begot the satisfaction of scattering the companions as far away from each other as possible, as revenge for stopping their belief, and killing yet another of her high priestesses.

She forgot a few key incidental ideals.

Portals have a way of shaping themselves.

***

Epilogue

Quetzal stopped before a pool, and industriously began to wash her face.

Drizzt came in moments later, followed by Guenhwyvar, their dark sentry, and saucer-like eyes pierced the dark cover of night.

"Don't you think we should…" Drizzt began.

"No. The Spider Jewel is of…" Quetzal continued, without looking up.

"Lloth," Drizzt said gloomily.

"And therefore not to be trusted." Quetzal said firmly.

"Where were we in the 'retelling' of the Story?" Drizzt asked.

"Not far, since I slept most of the time," Quetzal said. Thankfully, she wasn't feeling tired anymore.

"As in, where did we stop?"

"You really want to know?"

"It'll pass the time until we find out where Zak is."

"Oh, all right. We appeared in a room with all sorts of gadgets and devices, above a city that really smelled…"

"Who are you?" said one of the people holding the curved swords and wearing white cloths on their head, after a while.

"I am Zaknafein, and this is Jormungand." Zak said warily. Quite a few more of the people emerged from the sand dune, riding a weird breed of what looked like an overstretched horse. The long neck curved at the bottom into a sod-you face, and the legs ended in immense hooves. Most of all, the back was two huge lumps, like twin mountains.

"Who are you?" Zak shot back, "And do you want to come down and charge again, and we'd just throw you this time into the nearest sea?" he added nastily.

"We are D'regs." The speaker said, as if it explained a whole lot of things.

"Well, Mister D'reg, I suggest you go where you wanted to go, and I'd go where I wanted to go," Zak said wearily, "We don't want any unpleasantness, do we?"

"Charge!"

"Oh, bloody hell…"

Binky galloped down over the Klatchian desert, on the Discworld. Death got off on the sand, and deftly 'freed' a few more of the souls, then watched as they faded to the interesting Klatchian afterlife, that seemed to involve lots of houris, whatever they were.

Death looked down more closely at the bodies. They all seemed to have died in two ways – one, by an interestingly familiar precise sword cut, or a simple blast of something.

Two sets of footprints stopped abruptly at the edge of the sand dune, and there was an uneven depression where someone had lost an argument but lived.

Then the footprints left off with wide depressions, which Death identified as camel hooves.

ZAKNAFEIN? Death said in astonishment, QUETZAL?

Lledith RavenWolf

So ends "Exile – Rewritten" May you have a good day, and May this story never happen to yourself.