The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (21 page)

Bess grinned. “So is this why you’ve spent the last millennia or two living in Astlan? I’ve always thought it was such a strange choice of venue.” She made a mock shudder. “The climate there is so cold. The average temperature is less than a third that of boiling water.”

He gave her a gentle, mocking expression. “Says the woman who ups the power to my runic coolers every time she comes here.”

Bess laughed softly and lay back on the pillow. “What I love is the change in temperatures, from hot to cold and then back. It causes goose bumps, which is very erotically pleasurable in my fur.”

“Ehh.” Exador grimaced. “I hate that feeling of hair standing on end.”

“Yes,” she retorted, “but you are not a cat!”

“True.”

Bess frowned slightly for a moment. “But back to what we were discussing. How will you explain your disappearance to the Council? Are you going to tell them you were trapped by demon-caused debris in one of the lower chambers?” Bess shook her head. “But then, why wouldn’t you have just teleported out?”

Exador chuckled. “Yes, covering one’s tracks gets tricky at times; however, for that I have Randolf.”

“Randolf?” Bess asked, trying to remember who Randolf was.

“The Archimage of Turelane. If ever there was a more pusillanimous sycophant, I have never met them in my thousands of years of life. He will loyally cover for me. He’ll make up an excuse about my being called away on business in Turelane or something similar.”

“You have an archimage as fawning sycophant? That’s rather impressive,” Bess murmured, impressed.

Exador snorted. “Not as much as you might think. Remember, archimage is a title for a ruler; it is not an indication of mage ability. Not for over a thousand years. Randolf is completely inept as a mage. He’s lucky to keep a mage light following him.”

“So he’s more of a bureaucrat for you then? Administering things?”

Exador shrugged again. “One might think, but he outsources a lot of his governing duties to others. He mainly runs errands for me with the Council and others I don’t care to deal with.” Exador shrugged. “And spends hours locked in his room with his catamite.” He rolled his eyes.

Bess gestured to themselves in the bed. “I don’t think you’re in a position to criticize people for spending time in bed with a lover.”

Exador laughed, suddenly moving on top of her. “You are correct, so let’s make me an even bigger hypocrite!”

~

“Has your master lost his marbles?” Tom asked Estrebrius, raising his hands over his head in disbelief. The gateway had just snapped shut as Tom turned to face the little demon, causing a big change in the light level of the room. Estrebrius blinked.

“I, uh—I have no idea.” Estrebrius shook his head, completely befuddled and shocked.

“So you had no idea of his proposal?” Antefalken asked.

“No. I mean, obviously he was going to bargain for something, but I figured it would be a fixed transaction of some sort, not a full-scale plunge into insanity!” Estrebrius began pacing back and forth, trying to understand what his accursed master was thinking of.

“Every time I think these wizards can’t get any crazier, they prove they can!” Tom shook his head and took his seat. “He basically wants to be a demon slave? Like the reverse of the normal relationship?” Tom looked between Boggy and Antefalken. Tizzy was busy puffing on his pipe, strangely quiet. “So he’s just unhinged then?”

Antefalken shrugged. “Not necessarily; it’s been known to happen.”

“You mean it’s a real thing?” Tom asked.

“Such wizards are called warlocks. Actually, they do not have to be wizards. About any mana user can become a warlock. I suppose anyone could.”

“Why would someone subject themselves to the whims of a demon? We are evil and untrustworthy, and all that other bullshit!” Tom waved his forearms in circles in frustration.

“Well, yes. But as you know, it is complex. I am not sure that all do it willingly. There are many legends of wizards being overpowered by demons and forced into slavery. I think that is the more likely scenario. However, there have been tales told of those who seek out demon lords for this purpose.”

“Why would anyone do that?” Rupert asked.

“ ‘Cause they’re daft!” Boggy harrumphed.

Antefalken shrugged and raised his eyebrows in consideration of Boggy’s point. “I can’t completely disagree; however, there are advantages for both parties.”

“Like what?” Rupert asked as Tom nodded in agreement.

“Well, obviously the demon gets an agent—a spy in the mortal realms. One who can summon its master whenever the master desires.” Tom adjusted his head in thought at that. Given the past few weeks, that could be useful. He had used his friends in much the same way —to both their benefit.

“The demon master can also easily possess the warlock and work through him or her,” Antefalken continued.

“Yeah, but if I’m in Astlan, I’ll just shift to my human form and go around that way.” Tom shrugged, not impressed.

“But can you be in two places at once, as needed?” Antefalken retorted.

Tom twisted his mouth, implicitly admitting that Antefalken had a point.

“So what’s the warlock get?” Rupert asked.

“Protection,” Antefalken replied, “and power. Or at a minimum, the appearance of power.”

Tom gestured for Antefalken to continue.

“Well, the demon master will typically protect his warlocks in most cases. Perhaps not all; it depends on the demon. Orcus apparently wasn’t very good at that.” Antefalken made an unpleasant grimace.

“Orcus?” Boggy asked. “He was real?”

“Very much so.” Antefalken caught Tom’s and Rupert’s puzzled glances. Tom noted that Talarius suddenly seemed much more interested; he had gotten very still.

“At some point, I could play the Balladae Orcusae for you, but it takes a bit over thirty-four hours. So I’ll just give you a quick overview.” Antefalken sighed, apparently trying to summarize in his mind. “About four thousand years ago, the demon prince Orcus established a cadre of warlocks in Etterdam, who in turn raised a giant army of evil.”

“Etterdam?” Rupert asked.

“It’s another world that was frequently visited by Astlanians. Fairly similar, perhaps identical laws of magic.” Antefalken gestured slightly dismissively. “It’s still there, but people in Eton and Norelon don’t travel there much. I think some others do, maybe the Natoorians? Anyway, this is all somewhat ancillary to the point I was trying to make.”

“Why did he raise this big army?” Tom asked.

Antefalken shrugged. “The ballads don’t go into that. It’s assumed—or I and everyone I know assumes—he wanted to take over Etterdam and make it a playground for his people. Maybe he wanted an unending supply of virgins. It’s not really important.” He began to walk back and forth as he spoke. “According to the ballad, Orcus raised a great army, in fact. The army was led by the Seven Great Warlocks of Despair. In any event, it was your typical dark horde: wizards, lesser warlocks, necromancers, undead of all sorts. Lots of jötnar: orcs, ogres, giants, you know the type. And naturally, the Dok Sidhe joined in, as did all the typical unsavory types you’d expect to be involved in an ‘Army of Darkness.’ ”

“I think they must get package deals,” Tizzy interjected suddenly.

Antefalken stopped and looked at Tizzy in puzzlement.

“Well, they’re always the same. You’ve seen one Army of Darkness, you’ve seen them all. It’s just who you put at the top: warlocks, Dark Queen, Eternal Emperor, Necromancer of the Night, etcetera.” Tizzy waved his pipe and suddenly went silent again.

Antefalken turned his head slowly back to the rest of the cave’s occupants. “So… as I was saying, Orcus had a great unstoppable army that swept through the land—”

“Until a reluctant band of young heroes rose to the occasion?” Tom asked suddenly with a smile.

“What?” Antefalken gestured. “Are you trying to channel Tizzy?”

“Well, they always are,” Tizzy stated.

“Always are what?” Rupert asked.

“Reluctant, innocent, inexperienced heroes.” Tizzy shrugged. “They always are in the bard’s tales. They overcome a bunch of obstacles and defeat the unstoppable evil that people with ten times the power and experience had been unable to defeat.”

Antefalken sighed in exasperation.

“Except!” Tizzy suddenly moved forward, raising his pipe dramatically. “In the real world, they usually end up on a spit or at the bottom of a deep pit!”

“Or corrupted,” Boggy observed.

Tizzy twisted and pointed a finger at Boggy. “Right you are, partner! I forgot that one. Yeah, most of these folks can be bought off with promises of power, eternal life, and of course, virgins!”

“Yeah, and then they accept the offer, relinquish their values, turn on their former allies, and in the end get totally screwed by the Supreme Evil!” Estrebrius clapped his hands and made jumping motions.

Antefalken rubbed the base of his horns. “I’ve been too long in Astlan; I forget what crappy audiences demons are!”

“So is that what happened?” Tom asked.

Antefalken shifted his eyes to look up at Tom under his brows. “To avoid the peanut gallery, that was basically where I was going. He promised his warlocks, both the seven and the lesser ones, great power, but when the chips were down, he sacrificed them in a heartbeat. So, yes, he would protect them up to a point, but he was quick to dispose of them when their usefulness was over.”

“So do you know Orcus?” Rupert asked.

Antefalken chuckled. “No. Not to spoil the Balladae, but Orcus dies at the end…”

“At the HAND OF TIERNON!” Talarius shouted triumphantly from the back of the cave. Everyone jumped.

Antefalken chuckled at how startled they all were by the outburst and the knight’s enthusiasm. “At a hand of Tiernon, one of his senior archons,” the bard admitted.

“The Holy Sentir Fallon! The Hand of Tiernon in Etterdam!” Talarius added, nodding proudly.

Antefalken smiled. “He is correct. The high priests of Tiernon in Etterdam were getting desperate after years of war, and in an act of desperation, somehow managed to summon a supreme archon onto Etterdam. Then, well… things got very bloody. No one alive today, that I’m aware of, knows all the actual details, but after about four hours of battle in the Balladae, Sentir Fallon slays Orcus permanently.”

“The End!” Talarius was shaking a mailed fist in triumph. “As always, the forces of Goodness and Light prevailed!”

“Just a second. This Sentir guy, the archon you called him, is he one of these avatars of Tiernon you were talking about?” Tom asked. Antefalken nodded. “The ones you said were likely to show up in Astlan to investigate?”

Antefalken gave Tom a worried grin. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure no one on the level of a Supreme Archon, like the legendary Sentir Fallon in the Balladae, will have any interest in this.”

~

“Thank you, lad!” Hilda beamed at Danyel as he handed her a Bloody Tatania. It was still breakfast time, much too early for wine, but a Bloody Tatania was perfect. Tomato juice, hot peppers and spices, and Corswyn Extra Dry 7 Times Distilled Vadter along with a skewer of celery, cheese and sausage. That and a fresh-baked hard biscuit ring with spread. Who said you could not enjoy life in the boonies?

Of course, she had always loved Bloody Tatanias. Particularly when she had been alive. Admittedly, in her afterlife, meeting the drink’s namesake saint and learning firsthand of her grisly martyrdom and thus the source of the drink’s name, had put her off them for a few decades. Really, poor girl—what a ghastly way to go. Hilda shuddered at the thought.

The important thing was to start collecting her wits, now that she could think. Her homemade relic was working fantastically, if she did say so herself. It was such a relief. She was quite pleased with her success with it.

Unfortunately, her link meeting with Moradel, Sentir Fallon and Supreme Archon Beragamos had been of very poor quality, as well quite taxing and unsatisfying, thanks to those stupid wards.

She had managed to let them know that she was in the city, had made contact with Trisfelt, and had interviewed several people with direct knowledge of the greater greater demon, and would be interviewing others over the next couple of days. The key point she had wanted to get across, and she felt she had, was the nature of those wards and how detrimental they were to her, and likely far more so to archons.

They had all agreed that she would try to get out of the city for their meetings if she could. The links from inside the city were just too much of a pain. Once outside, she could physically go to Tierhallon, which would make things far simpler. However, of course, there were days where that might not be possible without blowing her cover, so they agreed not to assume the worst if she missed a day. No need for a Tierhalloc Invasion on her behalf! She chuckled to herself.

“So”—Hilda handed the plate of biscuit rings to Danyel as he sat down at the table with her—“with all that damage in the palace, I am thinking that as a healer and responsible citizen of Freehold, we should go volunteer to help with any remaining wounded. Wizards are not noted for being great healers. We can be of assistance and can insinuate ourselves more into the life of the palace and the Council to gather more information.”