by J. Langland
The Captain grimaced slightly. “It will be slow going, given the winds coming up from the coast and blowing against the mountains, but I agree that it is preferable to Eastern Noajar.”
“What’s in Eastern Noajar?” Maelen asked.
The Captain pointed to a series of villages at the base of a mountain near some standing stones. “Treojar.”
“Yes, we want to avoid them,” Trevin agreed, looking at the two wizards.
“Why?” Maelen asked.
“They’re rather unsavory, or more precisely, their gods are, and they don’t like interlopers,” Trevin said.
“But Aêthêal said that our height and the fact we are a cloud allowed us to slip through political borders without people on the ground having a clue we were even there,” Jenn said, puzzled.
“In most cases, but not all. For example, we would not cross over Oorstemoth or Freehold without first obtaining permission. Both would likely spot us. In Freehold there are too many wizards that might see us, and in Oorstemoth—well, they are very much aware of our cloudships,” the Captain explained.
“You now have firsthand experience that the Nysegard Storm Lords, as they call themselves, do not like us and in Nysegard have no problem fighting us at any altitude,” Trevin said with a rueful smile.
“In the case of Trojar, it’s their rather hands-on deities.” The captain shook his head in dismay.
Trevin was nodding. “Not very powerful deities in the grand scheme of things, pretty local actually, but quite deadly and fueled by sentient blood sacrifice.”
“Sentient blood sacrifice?” Gastropé asked, concerned.
“Interlopers, prisoners and people they just don’t like,” the captain said. “They aren’t powerful enough to bring a ship like the Nimbus down, but they could damage us, or at the very least distract us unnecessarily.”
“It’s not safe to send carpets against these deities either, as they can easily take them down,” Trevin said.
“Well. Then we should definitely avoid them,” Jenn said, shaking her head. “Although the fact that we are even mentioning fighting ‘lesser’ gods has me more than a bit bothered.” She frowned.
“But to be fair,” Gastropé pointed out, “before this trip, the thought of battling liches on dragonback at the very top of the atmosphere would have bothered both of us.”
Jenn glared at him for some reason.
“What? I am just saying that one becomes acclimated after a while. Wandering the Abyss with a greater demon, blasting liches off the backs of their dragons in the stratosphere, you sort of get used to what was once insane.”
“You do know that is what they call a slippery slope , yes?” Jenn asked him.
Trevin chuckled and the two glanced at her. “My dear, you are so correct. At times it seems like my entire life has been one long slippery slope. Trust me, at some point you cannot even imagine how to get off the slope. You just try to optimize your speed going down and hope to avoid crashing.”
Gastropé sighed and returned to staring at the map. “On a lighter note, I thought we were heading to Natoor. Why are we going to Noajar? It seems rather out of the way.”
Maelen nodded. “It is, but it’s also the closest place where there were Nyjyr Ennead temples. You see these pyramids on the map? Those are, or rather were, sites of both tombs of rulers and temples to the gods.”
“So we are hoping to get lucky with a shorter trip,” Trevin said, grinning. “Admittedly, Noajar was something of an outpost for them, and we don’t think there were any really large temples there.”
“However,” Elrose added, “there were also fewer Etonians hunting down Nyjyr Ennead followers in Noajar. With lesser temples, there was less need for desecration and we are hoping for better a chance of finding intact artifacts and altars.”
“How long until we reach Noajar?” Jenn asked.
“Optimizing wind currents for optimal cruise speed, which means not taking a straight line, we have nearly 900 leagues to traverse,” the captain said. Gastropé raised his eyebrows at the huge distance. The captain continued, “That’s not as bad as it sounds. Following the air currents and adjusting altitude to get the best paths, we can cruise at about eleven leagues per hour, every hour of the day.” He smiled. “So about four days.”
Gastropé frowned, trying to do the math. “So the Nimbus is over five times faster than a sailing ship?”
“Indeed; under favorable conditions, our cruising speed is,” the captain replied. “Under unfavorable conditions, we are still generally better by a factor of two or more, given that we can adjust altitude to get more favorable winds, whereas a sailing ship cannot. And beyond that, unlike a non-magical sailing ship, if need be, we can nearly double our cruising speed for short periods.”
“Wow!” Gastropé said in surprise.
The first mate, Aêthêal, had entered the room during this discussion and smiled at Gastropé. “If you think that’s fast, you should ask your combat carpet buddy Peter to take you out for a fast run. He holds the current speed record of forty leagues per hour.”
“Forty leagues per hour? A hundred and twenty miles in a single hour? Doing that at any lower altitudes would blow you off the carpet!” Jenn exclaimed.
Aêthêal grinned and nodded. “He did it at about thirty-five hundred feet, not that much lower than the other day, but even so, I would probably not recommend launching any forward fireballs at that speed.”
She, the captain and Trevin all laughed.
~
“Thank you for inviting me to lunch,” Randolf said to Lenamare as the two sat down at the dining table in Lenamare’s suite.
“Not at all. I appreciated the notes you sent me on the wards. You had some good insights and ideas and I would love to discuss them with you,” Lenamare said, smiling.
“I am quite excited to talk about them as well. As I said, truly masterful work. I had always thought the original wards quite interesting, but these new modifications for expelling things inside the wards are truly revolutionary,” Randolf said. He had been sure to include lots of detailed praise in his note. Flattery would be necessary to get Lenamare on his side, but it would have to be sincere flattery. The man was quite brilliant.
“Your reworking of Hierophan’s postulate to increase the energy channels was particularly remarkable. Especially given that the wards were active at the time of the reworking. Historically, one would have had to recreate the wards from scratch,” Randolf said.
Lenamare nodded. “Yes, it was a bit of work, but something I’d realized could be necessary in many circumstances. After the incident at my school, I took a long look at options for in-place upgrades of the wards. Of course, I’d had no idea that I’d need to do such a thing so soon; but I had been thinking on it for some time.”
“Well, the power to actually expel archdemons along with all the others would have been otherwise unimaginable,” Randolf said.
Lenamare nodded. “Again, not something you would ever expect to need to do.”
Randolf nodded in agreement, although he had been thinking about the need to do so most of his life. It was one of the first unmet needs he had experienced in life; in particular, the need to get rid of Exador once and for all. “And conveniently, it exposed the duplicitous and malevolent nature of your rival,” he said.
“Yes.” Lenamare frowned. “Sorry to deprive you of your mage.”
Clearly, Lenamare was still a bit sore about not being selected as Mage of Turelane, thought Randolf. However, Randolf had needed Exador closely tied to him in order to contain him, more than he needed an actual mage. He gave a short laugh. “Nonsense. I am better off not having a secret archdemon working for me. You have done me a great favor!” Randolf shook his head. “No one in their right mind would trust a bound archdemon, let alone an unbound one.” He tilted his head and frowned. “Although I’m not sure if there are any bound archdemons.”
“That remains to be seen,” Lenamare said sourly.
“Ahh, yes… that extra-greater demon of yours.” Randolf shook his head. “Rather troubling.”
“It is,” Lenamare agreed.
“Well, with all of this, you must at least be glad to have an explanation for Exador,” Randolf said casually.
“An explanation?” Lenamare asked, puzzled.
“Certainly. Now everything makes sense!” Randolf exclaimed, raising his hands as Lenamare looked at him in puzzlement.
“One thing I have always wondered is how nature managed to produce two such brilliant minds, such powerful intellects with so much innate talent as you and Exador at the same time! Normally, such individuals only come along every few hundred years. However, both of you were ‘born’ near the same time and in close proximity.”
“Yes.” Lenamare nodded, intrigued by where Randolf was going.
“I mean, think of it; every time you made a breakthrough, there was Exador releasing some sort of ‘me too’ breakthrough! What is the probability of that happening? How could there be another person so close to you in insight and power?”
Lenamare nodded, taking in the archimage’s logic.
“The fact that Exador has been shown to be an immortal archdemon puts all the pieces in place. He was not inventing new things at the same rate as you! No, he was simply unveiling things he had done centuries or maybe thousands of years ago, but had kept secret. Your innovations made him jealous; he felt upstaged, so he began releasing his centuries of work to the public so that it would appear that he was as gifted as you.”
Lenamare tilted his head, considering this idea.
“Who knows how much of it was actually his,” Randolf continued. “If an archdemon has free reign over multiple planes over thousands of years; his discoveries might simply be stolen wizardry from other planes that he passed off as his own work!”
Lenamare stared at Randolf for a moment and finally shook his head. “You are so right. I had not thought of this, but it makes so much sense as to be almost obvious!” Lenamare smiled ruefully. “Nothing has irritated me more than how Exador seemed to match every breakthrough I had. It now makes so much sense! He cheated!”
Lenamare was so excited, he got up and began to pace, ignoring the food and wine on the table. “How could I have not seen this? You are so right!” He shook his head. “We had Alexandros Mien and then myself, and Jehenna is no slouch… if you add in Exador as a match for me, you have to ask how so many great minds could be alive at the same time! It defies probability!”
“Exactly!” Randolf said enthusiastically.
Lenamare paused to stare at Randolf in frank admiration. “Your insight on this is brilliant!”
Randolf made a deprecating gesture. “I only wish I could have come to this realization sooner. I had always been puzzled, but who could seriously expect an archdemon to be posing as a wizard? A conjuror, for that matter?”
“No one. It defies what everyone knows about demons and archdemons in particular.” Lenamare tapped his forehead. “I mean, think about it. We have always assumed that the amount of power necessary to get an archdemon to manifest in the Planes of Men would be inconceivable. Yet here he is, and has been for a long time.”
“It would argue that archdemons have a means of traveling to and from the Abyss aside from being summoned,” Randolf said.
Lenamare shuddered. “So how is it we are not overrun by demon armies?”
Randolf shook his head. “That is a very good question.”
~
DOF +5
Mid Afternoon 16-02-440
Sentir Fallon sighed as he opened the door to his suite. He had been in a meeting for the last two hours discussing the questionable tactics of the Rod in Astlan as well as on a few other planes. It appeared that numerous branches had started to show signs of overzealousness in the pursuit of justice and righteousness.
He had to admit, he had been suspecting as much for some time now. What had not been clear was the level to which these overzealous attitudes had apparently crept into standard dogma. To be honest, however, he was not convinced that it was quite as bad as some others believed. He willed the light on in his resting chamber and entered, heading directly to his master wardrobe to get out of his vestments in order to take a relaxing shower.
“Good evening, Sentir.” A deep, throaty, and oh-so-very-female voice came from the shadows behind him.
Sentir felt his stomach drop at the sound. He slowly closed his eyes to gather his composure and turned to look his guest sternly in the eyes. “You know it is not safe for either of us for you to be here,” Sentir stated.
“Yes,” Lilith said slowly and with great import from the low-backed chair in which she reclined, her long, midnight-black feathered wings wrapping around the back of the chair. As she stood, she briefly stretched her giant wings, blocking light from the parlor door. Her low-cut, red-trimmed black gown seemed to thrust her cleavage at the archon. He remembered the feel of them quite well. He brought his eyes back to hers.
“I am aware of the risk,” Lilith said. “However, I am also aware of the threat we now face.” LilithShe brought her wings in and glided across the carpet towards him.
“And what threat is that?” Sentir asked sternly.
“Ahh, you are not then aware?” Lilith asked.
Sentir looked at her curiously. “Do you mean the events in Astlan?” The theft of Tiernon’s mana was clearly the greatest threat to Tierhallon, but not necessarily to her. For all he knew, she could be in league with the demon thief.
Lilith smiled mischievously. “I suppose they are the same. But I am actually referring to something more specific.” She turned to look around the room, providing her voluptuous profile for his review.
“And that is what?” Sentir asked, starting to lose patience for her games. Tempting as it may be, her presence here was too dangerous.
“Ahh, I forget—those of you in the Outer Realms are cut off from information in the Abyss.” Lilith turned back towards him.
“It does seem to have some natural barriers to our eyes and ears. As you know,” Sentir stated.
“Well, then, it is good that I came to tell you the news.” Sentir looked at her, eyebrows raised, and she said simply, as if discussing the weather, “Mount Doom is once again active.”
Sentir blinked, staring at her. His stomach knotted and rolled a few times. “What are you talking about? That is not possible; it cannot be.”
Lilith smirked, clearly enjoying herself. “Perhaps, but nonetheless I have seen it with my own eyes. The volcano is active and storm clouds gather.”
“The only way that could happen is if the Wand had been freed and then somehow miraculously tuned to the person retrieving it, and that particular person also happened to have a vast reserve of mana to restart the mountain.” Sentir stared deeply into her eyes, trying to read her lies.
“Further, I sealed that Wand within the Holiest Wards of Tiernon, within an impenetrable and ciphered chamber behind shielded and warded gates. Only a major Archon of Tiernon equal to or greater than myself could have released the Wand. Even then, they would have needed to overpower and retune the wand and then flood it with enough mana to restart the mountain. It is not possible.”
“Well…” Lilith said, putting her index finger to her pursed lips. “I should note that a certain party of demons, along with a hostage of your religion, were last seen making a beeline to Mount Doom, less than a full day before the mountain restarted.”
Sentir Fallon’s eyes widened and he backed up, feeling for the chair he knew had to be behind him. He sat down hard, even as he felt his innards try to sink below the chair. What had he and the Astlan team just been discussing in regards to Excrathadorus Mortis? He had not seriously believed that. It had seemed like such a worst-case scenario that it needed to be put on the table, but not too seriously considered. But this? “You know this demon destroyed the blade the three of us forged to kill Orcus?” Sentir asked, not able to look at the demoness.
“I did
not know that that was the blade. However, once Mount Doom reignited, I began to wonder if the so-called “Holy Dagger of Tiernon” might not be our blade.
Sentir nodded. “It was. I saw a crystal balling of the event.”
Lilith chuckled. “I find it rather funny the Paladin called it the Holy Dagger of Tiernon, for it most assuredly is not holy. It is pretty much by definition unholy. A perversion of Tiernon’s power designed to permanently destroy animus. The dagger was suffused with antimus.”
“Which is why this cannot be Orcus reborn!” Sentir stated vehemently. “I saw him die—I saw his entire being engulfed by that negative energy, watched it follow his links to the D’Orcs in Etterdam, watched it devour them as well. As, for that matter, did you!”
“I know,” Lilith said. “I was watching, even as I shut down Mount Doom to destroy his ability to get more mana to try and save himself.”
“So how could this be?” Sentir asked. His stomach was churning horribly at this point.
“Well, clearly this demon, whatever or whoever he is, has somehow figured out how to break your so-called Holy Ciphers. If he can steal mana from your clerics’ streams, surely he could infiltrate and corrupt your wards by the same mechanism. Further, he had a lot of stolen mana to play with. It’s not inconceivable.”
“So you don’t think this is Orcus?” Sentir Fallon asked.
Lilith shrugged, her wings dipping slightly. “I don’t see how it could be. Which is why I had completely forgotten the forlorn prophecy of the D’Orcs and the orcs.”
“Prophecy?” Sentir asked.
“Yes,” Lilith said sourly. “I had completely dismissed it and banished it from my memories until one of my commanders, who has been keeping the D’Orcs in check, reminded me of it.”
“And this prophecy says?” Sentir asked.
“About a hundred years after we killed Orcus, an orc shaman in Etterdam supposedly had an oracular vision, and it somehow managed to spread through the entire localverse and to the D’Orcs remaining at Mount Doom.”
