The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (46 page)

One of the commanders suddenly choked and grabbed for his battle-axe. “Treachery! A knight of Tiernon!” The others all stepped back, suddenly very concerned and nervous.

“Relax!” Tom ordered, realizing this was all about to blow up. “He is my hostage.”
Something true!
“He will not harm you, nor will you harm him. He is part of my strategy.” He glanced at Talarius, who of course was glaring at him through his visor, or at least Tom assumed he was by his stance.

“Ack!” another, older-looking D’Orc said as the previous D’Orc’s motion had freed this one’s line of sight. “This is a validation of the prophecy I did not need!” He was pointing at Tizzy.

“Hey, Darg-Krallnom! Long time no see!” Tizzy smiled and waved.

“You know this demon, Darg?” the first upset D’Orc asked.

“Yes. The master used to allow him the run of the mount, and on occasion sought his advice,” Darg-Krallnom said.

“Yes,” a third older D’Orc warrior with a broken right tusk said. “Probably the only prince in the Abyss to listen to that trickster!”

Boggy looked over to Tizzy. “Well, apparently you haven’t changed much in four thousand years or so.”

Tizzy shrugged. “What can I say? You stick with what works!” Tizzy turned to the third D’Orc. “Good to see you too, Arg-nargoloth! Still haven’t seen a dentist?”

A D’Orc beside Arg-nargoloth had to restrain the D’Orc commander from rushing forward to throttle Tizzy.

Tom shook his head, looking at Tizzy. He was starting to suspect a setup. He was not sure how that could be; things seemed too random, and yet… Tizzy knew these D’Orcs?
Then why had they been running from D’Orcs?
Tom glanced back at the D’Orcs who knew Tizzy and realized that the expressions on their faces most likely explained why they had been fleeing. Apparently, a significant number of demons who knew Tizzy wished him ill.

“Yes, well… seems like some of us know each other already,” Tom said. “Tizzy many of you know. The demon Boggy,” he said, gesturing to Boggy. “Talarius, Knight Rampant of Tiernon, we have established is in my custody and not to be harmed. Beside him is Reggie, an incubus in my service.” One of the commanders got what Tom thought might be a reflective look on his face thinking about an incubus. He was not sure though; maybe it was simply indigestion.

Next Tom pointed to Estrebrius. “Estrebrius is another associate and confidant of mine.” He then pointed to Antefalken. “My bard, Antefalken.” Antefalken nodded. “And finally, Rupert—”

“Of course,” Zelda interrupted with a big smile. “Clearly, we recognize your son; he is identical to you, even as the prophecy said he would be.”

Tom froze in his tracks. He wondered if his eyes were as wide as Rupert’s were. Tom coughed. “Aah… yes. Yes, indeed. We should talk more about this prophecy later.”

Zelda nodded. “Allow me to present my commanders by seniority.”

Darg-Krallnom stepped forward. “I am Darg-Krallnom of the Krall Tribe of Astlan. It is an honor to see your return, Master.” He stepped back and Arg-nargoloth stepped forward.

“Arg-nargoloth, the Narg Tribe of Etterdam.” He gave a bow and stepped back to allow the D’Orc who had been upset with Talarius’s presence to approach.

“Roth Tar Gorefest, of the Hun Horde of Romdan. I apologize for my reaction to your prisoner. Old habits…” He gestured, not knowing what to say.

Tom nodded. “Very understandable.” Roth Tar Gorefest stepped back.

Another D’Orc, this one short and rather squat, stepped forward. “Vargg Agnoth of the Ag Clan of Nysegard. Welcome back, My Lord.” He nodded as best his short neck allowed and then stepped back.

“Delg Narmoloth of the Delg Tribe of Earth,” a rather old-looking, tall, thin, bald D’Orc stated, stepping forward and bowing.

“Earth?” Tom sat up straighter. “I wasn’t aware there were orcs on Earth.” He suddenly hoped Tizzy’s history had been correct.

Delg Narmoloth chuckled. “Not for millennia. Our tribes began migrating at the same time as the other jötunnkind. I myself was reborn by your previous self after personally slaying a hundred Valkyries at Ragnarök.”

“You were at Ragnarök?” Tom asked incredulously.

“Yes. We were able to force the Æsir back across Asbrú, the rainbow bridge, which, with Loki’s assistance we were able to destroy and thus block the Æsir’s access to Earth, and all of Midgard for that matter, once and for all. Unfortunately, however, they had to do it from Jötunheimr and that sealed the last of the jötunnkind from Midgard as well. Or so I understand; I was busy dying at that exact time.”

“So how long ago was this?” Tom asked.

Delg Narmoloth grimaced. “Millennia, as I said. It’s hard to tell time here. It was a few lifetimes before”—the D’Orc suddenly seemed uncomfortable —“the incident.”

“The incident?” Tom asked, puzzled.

“Your death,” Tizzy suggested helpfully.

Delg Narmoloth looked relieved that Tizzy had said it rather than him. Tom sighed internally; a dark overlord probably would not want minions mentioning his defeat.

Tom nodded. “Understood.” He nodded at Delg Narmoloth, who quickly stepped back after having almost stepped in it. So to speak.

The next D’Orc to step forward was extremely burly with pointed tusks and very shiny, pointy teeth. Clearly he brushed, which seemed a bit odd. His pectorals were huge under his armor.

“I am Helga Dourtooth of the Dourtooth Clan of Nysegard,” the D’Orc said in a slightly higher-pitched voice than the others.
This was a woman!
Tom nodded and smiled grimly. That was a surprise.

Another female D’Orc stepped forward. “I am Ayega DeathTusk. I am daughter of Fenwith DeathTusk of the DeathTusk Horde of Romdan.” She bowed and then stepped back. Given that she gave her father’s name, was she born here? Tom wondered.

A third female warrior stepped forward, this one much more obviously female than Helga. “I am Frigda Normaghast, daughter of Blargh Normaghast of the Houofa Horde of Ithgar.”

As she stepped back a rather wiry, but still very muscular D’Orc stepped forward and bowed. “Zog Darthelm, son of Neth Darthelm of the Elm Clan of Gormegaest, Antilles star cluster.”

“Antilles star cluster?” Tom asked curiously.

“My Lord, as my father related to me, the Plane of Orcnaes is called Gormegaest, and on that plane the Elm Clan roamed between the stars and planets of the Antilles star cluster in great metal ships,” the commander told him.

“Ah,” Tom said. Had 40K got it right? He had always preferred the original, but if it turned out to be based on a real place—wait, he was already stuck in one crazy fantasy world. No need to think about gaming in another. He shook his head. “Such metal ships might prove interesting.”

Zog nodded and stepped back.

The next commander stepped forward stiffly and bowed. “Fester Dourtooth, son of Helga Dourtooth of the Dourtooth Clan of Nysegard.”

“Helga”—Tom gestured to the burly female—“is your mother?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“And you have risen to commander, as well. Your prowess honors her,” Tom said. He really had no idea what to say to show appreciation, but he figured that anything you might say to praise a Klingon should work for D’Orcs.

Fester made a very slight grin—hard to detect, but noticeable. Helga seemed pleased as well as she stared at her son.
Mother and son fighting side by side in battle.
Tom mentally shook his head. He had not even been here an hour and already he was starting to think like a D’Orc—or a Klingon, at least.

Another female D’Orc stepped forward. She was, as they all were, quite muscular, but this one was noticeably a bit smaller, perhaps younger, than the last few commanders. “My Lord, am Velma Snargspitter, daughter of Heathgol Snargspitter, son of Hera Snargspitter of the Snargspitter Clan of Verasai.”

Tom was right; she was from a newer generation. He nodded in solemn greeting at the younger D’Orc.

“I am Morok Deathstealer, son of Arshog, son of Arog, son of Pharog and Vesog, daughter of Ysog, daughter of Ithog Deathstealer of the Deathstealer Clan of Attanoobe Five on the Plane of Orcneas, Visteroth,” said the next D’Orc, who was very unusual. He was very tall, quite thin and pale as a ghost, but he did have the other orc-like attributes.

Tom blinked. That was a very different genealogy than the others; was it incestuous? No time for that. He needed to get through this, but he was curious. “From the name of the plane and the planet name, can I take it that the Deathstealer Clan are space travelers?”

“Yes, My Lord. We plied our star system as traders and explorers,” Morok said.

“Fascinating,” Tom said. Morok stepped back and a very craggy-looking D’Orc stepped forward. He was very bulky, but still seemed rather young.

“M’Lord. I be Ferrus RockSmasher, son of Aeris RockSmasher, daughter of Plumbum RockSmasher. “We are from the RockSmasher Clan of Nysegard.”

Another male commander of about the same age as Ferrus stepped forward. “M’Lord, I am Hewith Bilespitter, son of Hegron, son of Haeron Bilespitter of the Bilespitter Clan of Verasai.”

The next commander was a bit smaller and younger yet. She seemed a bit more hesitant. “My Lord, I am Ruthus Tarpit, daughter of Rufus Tarpit, son of Teeg Tarpit, daughter of Reeg Tarpit of the Labraen Horde of Romdan.” Tom nodded at her. Yes, same generation as Zelda.

The last of the male commanders stepped forward; he appeared to be fourth generation, if Tom was getting the hang of this. “I am Kraukus Skullspitter, son of Kraig, son of Kaela, daughter of Raig of the Skullspitter Clan of Verasai.”

The last three commanders were women and of what Tom took to be the fourth generation. The first of the final three stepped forward. “I am Flora Lifender, daughter of Lucreza, daughter of Amethyst, daughter of Fauna Lifender of the Lifender Matrimony of Targella.”

The next one stepped up holding a rather odd-looking battle axe. It was very long along the hilt and narrow compared to what the others typically had. “I am Serah Sidesplitter.” She stressed the L in Sidesplitter, apparently to differentiate it from the various “spitter” clans. “My father was Trog Sidesplitter, whose father was Seroh Sidesplitter, whose father was Dagog Sidesplitter of the Splitter Horde of Excelsion.” She nodded and stepped back as the last of the commanders came forward.

“I am Vespa Crooked Stick, daughter of Selma Crooked Stick, daughter of Hazel, daughter of Vera of the Crooked Stick Tribe of Astlan.”

Tom nodded at her with a tight grin, as he had tried to do for all the others. “Well met. I shall rely on your strength and courage even as Zelda does. I am confident I shall be well served,” Tom said, once again making it all up as he went along. He had really never planned on being a general or a leader, and certainly not a dark overlord of a demon army. His nerves were really starting to fray. He just wanted to curl up into a fetal ball and make the world go away. Intellectually he knew he should be enjoying this—it was straight out of every teenager’s power trip fantasy—but all he could think of was how this was all going to blow up horribly once the D’Orcs figured out he was faking it.

~

Hilda made her way back towards the inn. She had sent Danyel ahead about an hour ago to prepare her a bubble bath and collect some strawberries, chocolate and sparkling wine from the inn’s tavern before the kitchen closed. It had been a rather lengthy and trying day. What with the ball viewing in Tierhallon, brunch with Trisfelt and strategizing, a round with her various patients in the palace and then a long dinner with Trisfelt, Gandros, Damien, Lenamare and Jehenna, she was feeling a tad worn. Dinner with the two schoolmasters was not a trivial task; however, the presence of the head of the Council and the Chief Inquisitor had them on slightly better behavior.

She was pleased to be making connections with other members of the Council. Such inroads were critical for maintaining her vantage point and access to critical information. Hilda smiled to herself. If she really were an animage healer, these would be invaluable business connections. She grinned more widely, suddenly realizing that technically, they could be considered invaluable business connections for a spy—her current profession.

Amusement or not, it was taxing and she just wanted to get home and relax as soon as possible. Which was why, when she spotted an upturned cart and all sorts of commotion on the city street between her and the inn, she chose to take a series of side streets, more like alleys. She had explored them briefly in the daytime; rather dank and dark even in broad daylight. Certainly not a great route for a woman alone in the middle of the night. However, being previously deceased, she really did not have much to fear. It was rather hard to kill someone who had been dead for centuries and who could heal any wounds within moments. She chuckled to herself at that.

Naturally, because she had bothered to entertain such thoughts, it was not at all unexpected when a dark shadow rose in front of her within no more than a minute. She supposed it was almost de rigueur. By the sounds, another three people had also materialized behind her. Not in the way she could materialize when coming down from Tierhallon; these individuals had simply stepped out of the deep shadows of a large doorway on her left and another doorway on her right. The man in front of her had simply stepped out from behind a large canister of refuse.