The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2)

by J. Langland

  Bess smiled, feeling good for the first time since the debacle at Freehold. The idea of using that to their advantage brought her a warm, satisfied feeling. She leaned back in her chair, gazing up to the beautiful planet of Astlan dominating the sky above her. New Nyjyr, now on Uropia, had a much better view than those stuffy old outer planes they had had to maintain at such cost. Yes, it was much smaller, and thus a bit crowded, but as they grew, they could expand to Anuropia easily enough. With control of the two moons, their oversight of Astlan would be solidified. Add in the power of the book, and the Etonian pestilence could be eliminated from at least one plane of the multiverse. From this secure base, they would eventually take back other worlds and return themselves to their rightful place in the scheme of things.

  ~

  DOF +5

  Dawn 16-02-440

  Tom woke suddenly, realizing he had dozed off. Boggy and the others were in the main room, talking rather animatedly; perhaps that was what had woken him. In any event, he was feeling better. That was the one indispensable thing about sleep; it gave one a break from consciousness. It made the world go away for a while and when you woke up, things often seemed better.

  At least they did for a few minutes, until he heard the name Vaselle. He closed his eyes again. Today was supposed to be the day the wizard turned himself over to Tom. He had somehow forgotten about that in all the insanity of yesterday. Why was he doing this again? Why couldn’t he have just said no? It would be nice to blame Vaselle; the wizard seemed so needy, so desperate, as if he needed love and acceptance. Tom suspected that the wizard had what his stepdad called a codependent personality. It probably was not a good idea to be mixed up in a relationship with such a person.

  Except that he could hear the guys talking; they were planning a shopping list of items for Vaselle to buy for the party. Seriously? The wizard was in a city under siege! Where was he going to find supplies for a party for two thousand plus D’Orcs!

  Enough! Tom decided. He could not worry about everything; he needed to delegate. Maybe a warlock was not such a bad idea; Vaselle could be sort of like a personal delegate, or a personal assistant. He did not know. At the moment, he did not want to think about it.

  Tom stood up and grabbed the mace by the ball. It poked him. That was weird; he looked at the amorphous metal ball head of the mace. Odd. It was not quite so amorphous anymore. It was still rather putty shaped, but it now had two sharp little points about twenty degrees down from the top of the sphere and about halfway from the center to the front on two sides. They were curvy points coming out from the side of the sphere and then pointing up. On each side of the sphere with a point, another point more towards the center and a bit down was also forming.

  The sphere was also not that spherical anymore. If he rotated the sphere so that the big points were on opposite sides, the space between them had gotten bumpy and had some dimples and almost a little mesa or something. He rotated the sphere to look at it from different directions. It was starting to look like a head. In fact, if he did not know better, he’d think it was a very blurry version of a demon head! Horns, ears, muzzle, brow… was it supposed to be his head? It was too hard to tell yet, but it was changing.

  Given that he was rather intimately connected with the rod, it would not be completely unreasonable that the top would shape itself to look like him. Just a bit weird. A little narcissistic perhaps, but not completely out of the realm of possibility. Tom shook his head and walked over to the doors to the parlor. Opening the doors, he found Boggy, Antefalken, Tizzy and Estrebrius sitting around a table scratching away at various papers with pencils or something.

  The sitting room was opulently furnished, if dusty. There were a few formal chairs and a sofa for his size, and another set that was perhaps small D’Orc or large humanoid size. The three demons were sitting on high stools around a table suitable for Tom’s height. It was near a large set of French doors with actual glass panes.

  The French doors opened onto a balcony overlooking the volcano platform. If he were to guess, it was just inside the upside-down pentagram. The light from outside was rather unusual for the Abyss. Tom moved to the doors to look out and up at the sky.

  Black and purple storm clouds were starting to swirl around the top of the volcano. That was very strange; he had never seen clouds in the Abyss before. Actually, how would you even get clouds in the Abyss? It was too hot and dry. There was no real moisture.

  “You guys notice the clouds?” Tom asked.

  “Yep,” Boggy said, still scribbling away.

  Antefalken looked up briefly. “Tizzy says they were extremely common back in the day.”

  “Really?” Tom asked the octopod.

  Tizzy nodded. “Sure. Only place in the Abyss I’ve ever seen it rain.”

  “It rains here?” Antefalken looked up in surprise. He finally stopped scribbling.

  “Yeah, and when it does it’s like a giant steam sauna. Water sizzling on lava. Gets downright chilly here, in fact. Sometimes drops to a third of the boiling point of water.”

  “You mean like 33 Celsius?” Tom asked incredulously.

  “Not often, but on occasion as I recall,” Tizzy agreed.

  “So humans could actually survive here,” Tom said.

  “Not sure about the acidity of the rain, but presumably,” Tizzy said.

  “Actually, that would be a very comfortable temperature for orcs,” Antefalken mused.

  “Do you know, that would be helpful with the refreshments,” Boggy suddenly added, looking up from his paper. “We’re not likely to be able to get our hands on any Denubian Choco-CoffeeTM, nor any blood wine, so we’ll probably need to whip up some x-glargh, which boils somewhere near the same point as water. It’s best served cold, around a quarter of the boiling point of water.”

  “X-glargh?” Tom asked.

  “It’s an extra-potent form of glargh, a favored intoxicant of orcs according to Hezbarg, the quartermaster.” He gestured to Tizzy. “X-glargh has some extra ingredients that increase the potency so that it affects demons.” Boggy frowned. “It’s nowhere near as potent as blood wine or Denubian Choco-CoffeeTM, though, so we are going to need a lot of it.”

  “Anyone know what the X is?” Antefalken asked the room. “I know how to make glargh, but I’m not sure about the X part. We are going to need to let it sit and ferment for a while.”

  “I do,” Tizzy said. “It is mainly nightshade and arsenic. The amount is sort of to taste. Oh, and a good bit of nitro-glycerin—that’s what gives it a kick—plus a few other slightly more esoteric things, like a splash or two of mercury.”

  “The fermentation is going to be a problem,” Antefalken said.

  “Not if you can find a thaumaturgist to speed it up,” Estrebrius said.

  “I don’t suppose Vaselle is a thaumaturge?” Boggy asked the smaller demon.

  “No, don’t think so. But he could probably hire one for a gem or two,” Estrebrius said.

  “Jenn’s a thaumaturge,” Rupert said, entering the room from a side chamber.

  “Something tells me she might not want to play cocktail waitress at a D’Orc party,” Tizzy said.

  “Okay, here’s my count, assuming x-glargh,” Boggy said. “If we assume two quarts per demon times 2,000 demons, that’s 4,000 quarts or 1,000 gallons or about seventeen barrels. I think we should really assume at least twenty barrels in case the count is off. So I think a nice two dozen barrels should be perfect.”

  “I don’t know that we can make that many barrels,” Antefalken said worriedly. “If I could get a hold of some of my Denubian contacts, that would help. No one could possibly drink two quarts of Denubian Choco-CoffeeTM. A quart and you’d be well beyond passed out.”

  “Plus, the Denubians are equipped for mass production and distribution of the stuff. You can get it by the barrel, and you do not have to keep it cold. Just heat it up when needed,” Boggy said.

  “Unfortunately, Hezbarg has said that it’s not safe for D’
Orcs to go to the Courts, where we could, with enough cash, buy what we needed,” Antefalken said. “And I don’t know how the rest of us could lug everything we need.”

  “Speaking of which,” Boggy said, turning to look at Tom, “we are going to need you to pop open some gateways for some cattle, goat and pig raids for the food.”

  “Huh?” Tom asked, puzzled.

  “Well, it will not be a problem for a D’Orc hunting party to round up the groceries, so to speak, if you can open a portal to a plane that has the aforementioned grocery items,” Boggy said.

  “And how am I to do that? I need someone summoning me, or some other summons I can intercept,” Tom said.

  “Well, your predecessor used to contact orc shamans all the time to do that sort of thing, according to Hezbarg,” Boggy said.

  “Okay, first, I don’t know any orc shamans, I’ve never even met an orc, and I don’t speak orcish,” Tom told the demon.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem, given that we are all speaking Universal,” Tizzy said.

  “What?”

  “What, you never noticed that demons can talk to people who summon them, no matter the person’s language?” Tizzy began shaking his head. “And you didn’t think that odd? How else would they command us? If they can contact demons, they can communicate with us. Seriously, who would want to learn Denubian the mundane way? You need at least two mouths to speak it natively; Universal takes care of it for us.”

  “Is that why the D’Orcs don’t sound like orcs?” Rupert asked suddenly, as if he had just realized something.

  “What do you mean?” Antefalken asked.

  “Well everyone knows that orcs always talk funny with really stilted, mangled vocabulary. Very brutish like, but the D’Orcs sound like normal people.”

  Antefalken laughed. “Orcs only talk like that when speaking foreign tongues. Their jaw structure and tusks make speaking most of the human or alvaren tongues rather tricky. If you talk to them in orcish, they sound very normal.”

  Boggy nodded. “So if you were to speak to an orc in Universal, he or she would hear orcish and reply in orcish, but you would hear Universal. They would sound just as normal as the D’Orcs do here.”

  “Cool!” Rupert said.

  Antefalken shook his head as if in dismay. “Elitist cultures often mock foreign tongues and the way foreigners speak the tongue of the elitists. In fact, the word barbarian comes from the baa-ing noises that sheep make. The elitists who invented the word joked that the foreigners’ home tongue sounded like the bleating of sheep. Hence baa-baa-rian.” He grinned. “And of course, when the barbarians tried to speak the tongues of the elitists, they did so poorly, so the elitist generally assumed the speakers were primitive, ignorant and of lower culture.”

  “But if the elitists tried to learn the tongue of the barbarians, wouldn’t they sound equally stupid?” Rupert asked.

  “Precisely.” Antefalken said. “However, it is the side with the better historians that ends up dictating who the elitists were and who the barbarians were.”

  Tom closed his eyes. Was it possible, he wondered, to change his mind at this moment and decide this was all a dream? He shook his head. “So anyway, I’ll see what I can do about contacting an orc shaman.”

  “You know, if we do that, they might be able to help us get glargh already in barrels,” Antefalken said.

  “Then we just add the X and mix it up!” Tizzy clapped his lower hands. “Excellent idea! As soon as Tom purchases his warlock, it can get us the X ingredients in that wizard city of his, no problem.”

  Tom wandered over to Rupert, who had gone over to the very large fireplace. There was very large spit in it. Had his predecessor cooked his own dinner here? Or his victims? Tom wondered. “Where’s Talarius?” he asked Rupert.

  Rupert pointed to the third door leading off the room; there were a total of five, including the one to the hall. “He’s in there; it’s another smaller bedroom.”

  “How are you doing with this craziness?” Tom asked.

  “Great! Isn’t it amazing how the prophecy knew that you would come here with me, just like we did?” Rupert asked with a big grin.

  “Yeah, except I don’t think I’m the reincarnation of some orc god. As I was saying, I have never even met an orc before. Have you?”

  Rupert thought for a moment. “No, not met. I saw some in Exador’s army though, from the walls.”

  “I don’t know how accurate this prophecy is, or how we could be fulfilling it.”

  “But the fact that you were prophesied to come, restart the volcano and have an identical-looking son?” Rupert tilted his head while looking up at Tom and smiled. “How do you explain that?”

  Tom sighed. “I don’t. I don’t know anything about prophecies. Or how one could have prophesies or fate when you’ve got gods and demons princes messing around with stuff.” He shook his head. “I’m definitely going to ask about this prophecy. Find out exactly what it is they think I am going to do. I hope I don’t have to conquer a world or something.” Tom thought back over the discussions with the commanders. He turned towards Tizzy back at the table.

  “Tizzy?” Tom called. The demon looked over to Tom.

  “Darg-Krallnom and Arg-nargoloth both recognized you, and said you used to hang out here with their old master. Yes?”

  Tizzy got a slightly awkward look. “Yes…” he said out of one side of his mouth.

  “The same dark master that was the dark god who turned orcs into D’Orcs?”

  “Yes,” Tizzy said.

  “And these guys seem to think I’m the reincarnated version of this dark god?”

  “Apparently.” Tizzy shrugged.

  “Did this dark god have a name by any chance?” Tom asked as Antefalken started paying attention to the conversation as well.

  “Yes,” Tizzy said.

  “And that was…?”

  Tizzy grimaced. “Uhm, Orcus?”

  Boggy and Estrebrius went silent at that. All eyes were suddenly on Tizzy.

  “Orcus? Like the demon prince Antefalken was telling us about? The one who was killed by Sentir Fallon in Etterdam?” Tom looked down at his mace, if this Orcus was the same as the fantasy Orcus from his world. “And they think I am him reborn because…?”

  Tizzy grimaced and shrugged. “Because you reclaimed that.” He pointed to the Rod of Tommus.

  “And that means my Rod of Tommus is really…”

  “The Wand of Orcus?” Tizzy said hesitantly, apparently knowing full well that he had been hiding information.

  ~

  Lilith was relaxing in her spa; a small imp was giving her a pedicure. The imp had just placed her feet in the pleasantly hot blood bath below her spa chair when a knock came at the door. That should not have happened. Lilith carefully raised her hands to remove the Denubian Space Cucumbers from her eyes, being careful not to disturb the moisturizing mask on her face. “Come in,” she commanded warningly.

  “Sorry, mistress, but this demon was carrying a high-priority token and said it was imperative to see you,” the extremely nervous guard explained.

  “Come around where I can see the two of you better.” Lilith was not going to rotate her chair and disturb the blood bath, nor twist her head and disturb the mask. She recognized the guard. The smaller demon, a fiend, stood nervously beside the guard, wringing its hands.

  She stared at the fiend, trying to remember who he was. She saw the token he was clutching nervously in his claws, noted the gulp of fear at her stare. She just could not remember who he was. “Your name?” Lilith demanded.

  “Lesteroth Garflog, Your Dark Majesty,” the fiend yammered hesitantly.

  Lesteroth Garflog. Lilith pondered the name. She had heard it before, a very long time ago. She raised an eyebrow. “Your commander is?”

  “Darflow Skragnarth, Dark Majesty.”

  Lilith shot straight up in her chair, spilling the bubbling pot of coagulating blood at her feet. “Everyone out and away from the doorway,
now! Not you, Lesteroth Garflog,” she added as the small fiend started to retreat. The imp and the guard quickly fled through the door, shutting it behind them. “If you can still hear me, you will be worse than dead if you don’t get out of my voice’s range, now!” Lilith called.

  She waited a few moments, Liliththen looked back to Lesteroth. “What word do you bring? It had better be important.”

  Lesteroth gulped and nodded. “My commander bade me tell you ‘Mount Doom awakes.’ ”

  Lilith, who had been leaning forward in her chair, now sat straight up. “That is not possible,” she said with an icy coldness.

  “There have been multiple tremors, lava has been spotted flowing and storm clouds gather.” Lesteroth gulped again. “I swear, Dark Majesty; I have seen it with my own eyes, as have all the demons of Doom’s Redoubt.”

  “This cannot be possible! There is only one way to wake that volcano, and HE assured me it could not be done!” Lilith stood, spilling the remaining blood from the foot bath, and began to pace, tracking coagulated blood over the white fur rug. Her face was taut and frowning with concentration. “I must see this. Prepare to return with me,” she ordered Lesteroth. “But first call all my attendants and get this mess cleaned up and me ready to travel!”

  ~

  The Wand of Orcus? He had stolen and activated the Wand of Orcus? Tom sat down on the nearby sofa. This was turning into one very bad campaign! First the Monty Haul dungeon of gems, now the Wand of Orcus? Any serious dungeon master putting this in an adventure would be run out of a convention! The only way you could have a Wand of Orcus sitting around was if it was at the culmination of, say, a five- or six-year-long campaign in which everyone played religiously. But even then, the Wand of Orcus? It was such an incredibly overused trope that… that… seriously? The Wand of Orcus?

  He had only been a demon for a bit over a month at most! Now he had the Wand of Orcus and a horde of D’Orcs who thought he was Orcus reincarnated! Could this day get any worse?

  Estrebrius suddenly leaped off his stool. “Tom! It’s Vaselle—he’s summoning me. We need to go collect your warlock!”

  Tom just stared in shock at the little demon. His mind was starting to numb over again.