The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (52 page)

“Ahh, so you think Exador might have summoned the demon?” Crispin said.

The sword looked at the djinn. “It has already been established and admitted to that Lenamare summoned this demon most recently and had a binding to him. However, the demon that abducted Talarius was well beyond what Lenamare believes he summoned. I suspect that the demon may have been working with Exador against Lenamare.”

“Interesting,” Randolf said, nodding. “So you think there was a previous binding between Exador and the demon.”

Ruiden looked at the archimage. Randolf would have guessed that the sword was puzzled, but its expressions were too hard to decipher. “Why are you prevaricating? My analysis shows a 98.4 percent chance that the three individuals on the carpet were the three archdemons identified by Talarius’s mirror. The Council suspects this, and you yourself are working on spells to bind an archdemon. I would presume that it is Exador you intend to trap and bind.”

Crispin suddenly choked on a sip of tea.

~

DOF +5

Mid Afternoon 16-02-440

Rupert rounded another corner; this hallway was also empty except for some doors to the right and left. It ended in a large spiral staircase going upward. He was exploring the vast underground complex. Svartbart, Hezbarg’s apprentice, had told him that it should be perfectly safe to wander the main corridors. Any private rooms would be locked, and all the D’Orcs knew who he was, so none would bother him. Svartbart had also given him a loop to go around his neck with a small pouch on it. The pouch contained multiple scented salts that the hounds could detect and recognize him as a friend, and thus not eat him.

Hezbarg’s other assistant, Shebolla, had led a party out to the chasm room to go down and bring up the hounds they had tossed down the chasm. The problem was the hydra hounds did not fly, and so the dogs, or parts of them, that were thrown down the chasm would regenerate, but then not be able get back out. If that happened, once regenerated they were likely to howl nonstop until someone came to retrieve them. Better to do that upfront rather than have to put up with incessant howling.

There were a number of large barracks chambers similar to the one they had seen earlier. These were where the single D’Orcs lived; at least the more junior ones. There were a number of private rooms where families lived. Svartbart had also indicated that each commander had his or her own room regardless of marital status. What was interesting was that from what he had seen, the D’Orcs actually slept. Tizzy and everyone had been chiding him for sleeping, but many of the D’Orcs slept as well.

There were also numerous training halls and workout halls with balls of various weights as well as ropes and metal bars. He had stopped to watch D’Orcs training a couple of times. Everyone had been very respectful of him. Rupert thought back to the fight with the hounds. It would probably be useful to get some real combat training. His dad was too preoccupied with all the insanity around them, so maybe he could find some D’Orcs to train him.

He climbed the stairs to the next floor and stepped off quickly, nearly colliding with a short D’Orc. “Ack!” The D’Orc made a surprised noise, but then recognized Rupert. Rupert blinked and recognized the short D’Orc as well. It was the one they had surprised in the hallway that had set off the alarm.

“Hey!” Rupert said. “We meet again.”

“Yeah.” The D’Orc suddenly looked very nervous and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for running like that. I have shamed myself and my lineage.”

“Don’t worry about that!” Rupert said, making a waving motion. “Given how things worked out, your running and alerting everyone was the best option. If you’d stood and fought, well…”

“I’d be dead,” the D’Orc said morosely.

“Well, I’d hope not. You’re a kid like me, right?” Rupert asked.

The D’Orc nodded somberly. “I’m Fer-Rog, son of Zelda, and I have ten Abyssal years.”

“Cool!” Rupert said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Rupert, you know my dad too, and I’m, well… I don’t know, about twelve Astlanian years, roughly. I don’t know what that is in Abyssal years.”

Fer-Rog stared suspiciously at the hand for a moment and then awkwardly shook it.

“Your mom is the Steward of the Mount?” Rupert asked; Fer-Rog nodded his head. “Then we should definitely hang out, as I’m sure your mom and my dad will be working together a lot.” Rupert paused for a moment. “Who is your dad?”

Fer-Rog frowned. “My sire was Ser-Rog of the Bear Clan of Verasai.”

“Was?” Rupert asked, concerned.

Fer-Rog nodded. “He fell in combat during the last raid of the Lilith Spawn, a few days before my birth. He died trying save the life of my grandfather, Trogthor, the Steward of the Mountain. Neither regenerated, and my mother became steward that day.”

“I’m sorry,” Rupert said, and then frowned. “Wait, you said they didn’t regenerate? Why not?” Even the hydra hounds regenerated.

Fer-Rog sighed. “There are multiple reasons. In some cases, the individual’s body requires so much repair that the individual cannot summon the mana to bring everything back together, or at least do so in a reasonable number of years; they then give up and let themselves go. In other cases, the demons do have a few weapons capable of ending a demon or D’Orc permanently.”

“That’s horrible.” Rupert shook his head in horror at the thought.

Fer-Rog nodded. “I am told that the frequency of such happenings has increased in the last thousand years or so.” He shrugged. “That should end now with your father’s return.”

“I hope so,” Rupert said. “But unfortunately, that won’t bring your father back. Again, I am sorry. I lost my mother a few years ago, so I know what it feels like.” Fer-Rog looked at him again and sort of nodded in acknowledgement of the pain. “So, where were you going?”

“I have combat training with the others in my age cohort,” Fer-Rog said.

“That’s a coincidence! I was just thinking how much I needed some combat training. May I come and watch?” Rupert asked.

Fer-Rog shrugged. “I do not believe Xaroth can say no. However, even if he could I would seriously doubt he would. He is a firm believer in everyone being at his or her best. So, I am sure if you ask, he will evaluate you and place you in an appropriate class.”

~

DOF +5

Late Afternoon 16-02-440

“Greetings, master and fellow servant of Tommus!” Estrebrius shouted excitedly as he appeared in his summoning pentagram in Vaselle’s lab.

“Greetings, Estrebrius. They’ve taken down the city’s wards against demons and pretty much everything else,” Vaselle said. “I’ve summoned you because I’m going to need help hauling all of these supplies back here so we can send them to Lord Tommus.”

“I think he said you could call him Tom. He really seems to prefer that for some reason,” Estrebrius said.

“It just seems a bit too familiar,” Vaselle said, frowning.

“Well, you did cast a ‘familiar’ spell on yourself.” Estrebrius grinned. “Besides, as demon princes go, he’s really extremely nice.”

Vaselle’s eyes widened. “So he is a demon prince? Official rumor was greater demon, but everyone figured he was one of the archdemons. No one suspected a demon prince in the city!”

Estrebrius rocked his head from side to side. “Well, Tom denies he’s a demon prince. In fact, he says he’s only a greater demon.” Vaselle looked at him, not understanding what Estrebrius meant. The little demon continued, “But, while you were working on your spell, we all went treasure hunting in these caverns that turned out to be under Mount Doom. After a few battles with hydra hounds and fleeing a bunch of D’Orcs, Tom managed to destroy a bunch of Etonian runes and then seized control of the Wand of Orcus and renamed it the Rod of Tommus. He then restarted Mount Doom and is now considered to be the reincarnation of Orcus by something like 2,000 plus D’Orcs!”

Estrebrius stopped for a moment to catch his breath. “And that would make him a demon prince and according to the D’Orcs, the archrival of Lilith, the Empress of the Abyss!”

Vaselle collapsed into a nearby chair. He only understood about half of what Estrebrius was saying, but what he did understand was overwhelming enough. After a moment, he asked Estrebrius, “What is a dork?”

Estrebrius shook his head, “No, a D’Orc. Like ‘demon orc.’ They are the demon equivalent of an orc. Tom has an army of about 2,000 demon orcs at his command, or at least he will shortly. That’s what the supplies are for.”

“Huh?” Vaselle asked, not understanding.

“Well, technically not for that. There is going to be an allegiance-swearing ceremony and then a party afterward. We are trying to get booze for the party, but demons need something stronger than mortals to get drunk. So we are hoping to get a lot of barrels of glargh. We then take these supplies you are getting and mix them into the glargh to make x-glargh, which is a favorite of D’Orcs.”

“So my first task is getting party supplies?” Vaselle was feeling a bit of a letdown. Here he had been certain all the nasty things he was buying were for some horribly evil scheme.

“Welcome to indentured service,” said Estrebrius with a grin.

Vaselle shook his head. He had just summoned Estrebrius to lug supplies around.
Fair is fair
, he supposed.

“I wish I could see the master’s new fortress,” Vaselle said sadly.

Estrebrius shrugged. “I’m sure Tom will be okay with you coming to the party. There is just the problem of your staying alive there. The Abyss is very hot. Mount Doom is actually quite a bit cooler, especially since it started raining, but it’s still going to be like one of those saunas they have in the northern regions.”

“Dang,” Vaselle said.

“You know,” Estrebrius said after a moment. “Rupert once mentioned that Tom had brought several wizard friends through the Abyss and that the wizards had a way of staying cool. Maybe I can find out what that is. It sounded like it was a spell or something.”

“That would be great!” Vaselle clapped his hands, jumping up. “Okay, so we should get started. We have some of the supplies ready to be picked up. The rest will be ready tomorrow. Let’s go get what we can.”

~

DOF +5

Late Afternoon/Early Evening 16-02-440

“The wards are down!” Antefalken exclaimed as he materialized in Damien’s chamber.

“Yes, finally!” Damien said, grinning. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed your company. Things are insane here, wards or no wards.” He shook his head and sat down, gesturing for Antefalken to hop on his favorite chair perch.

Antefalken laughed. “You only think things are insane here. It’s much crazier in the Abyss.”

“I don’t know, the Oorstemothians recorded the battle between Talarius and Edwyrd and there are tons of crappy mirrorings from the wall as well. So everyone is pretty freaked out.”

“Well, there were hundreds of demons watching, and they all ran back to the Courts to tell everyone. But it gets wilder.”

“Really? Wilder than the fact that Alexandros Mien noticed something odd and drew the Council’s attention to a flying carpet upon which Exador, Ramses the Damned and an unknown woman were all having breakfast while watching the battle?”

That caused Antefalken to pause as he digested the sentence. “Well, I think I can beat that, but a) who is the woman, and b) why are the three of them outside the wards when everyone else is inside?”

Damien twisted his head in something like a shrug. “We aren’t certain, but as you recall, we suspected that the Ramses the Damned character might have been an archdemon; the woman is clearly something equally unusual; and then add Exador on the rug, outside? We think he may be the third archdemon.”

Antefalken blinked a few times. “So you are saying that Lenamare, a mortal, has been going toe-to-toe with an archdemon for the last few decades and that the two kept ending up in a draw?”

Damien pursed his lips. “Well, when you put it like that, I like the theory a bit less. It gives Lenamare way too much of an ego boost, which he certainly doesn’t need.”

“Well, he did apparently kick three archdemons out on their asses; he deserves some credit for that,” Antefalken noted.

“Trust me; he’s been soaking it up like a sponge. He’s actually been both pleasant and helpful lately.”

“Now you are scaring me.” Antefalken gave a mock shudder. “So how’s your buddy Randolf taking the news that his faithful servant-slash-boss is an archdemon?”

“Surprisingly well,” Damien said. Antefalken gave him a skeptical expression. “No, really—I am shocked myself. I almost, and I say
almost,
think he had suspected so already.”

“Really? I thought he was clueless,” Antefalken said.

“That is the appearance he gave, but I had an interesting breakfast with him. He is far smarter than we give him credit for being. I get the impression that he may feel he has little choice but to play the fool,” Damien said.

“That does not add up with anything we know about him,” Antefalken noted as he shook his head. “And the third, the woman? Another archdemon?”

Damien gave that same half shrug again. “That would be the most logical explanation; however, Trevin recognized her as being Bastet, a goddess of the Nyjyr Ennead pantheon.”