by J. Langland
Reggie shrugged. “I’ve really only seen her tower, but she and one of her associates mentioned Memphis. I assume it’s not the one I am familiar with.”
“Never heard of it,” Boggy said. Antefalken also shook his head.
Talarius supposed it was a good thing these demons did not know Astlanian geography. “It’s in Natoor,” he said.
“What is Natoor?” Boggy asked.
“It’s a continent south of Eton, immediately west of Najaar,” Talarius replied.
Antefalken was nodding his head. “I’ve been to both of those continents. I don’t recall a town called Memphis, though.”
“It is an archaic name for New Krinna. The name Memphis has not been widely used in a thousand years,” Talarius said.
“Ohh, okay, New Krinna I am familiar with. Never been there,” Antefalken said.
“How old is your master that he uses a thousand-year-old name?” Boggy asked Reggie.
Reggie shook his head, “Mistress. And she’s not that old, maybe thirty.”
Talarius shrugged. “Perhaps she is a heretic.”
Boggy looked at him. “A heretic?”
Talarius nodded. “There have been heretics on both continents ever since we arrived to free the people living on them. Throwbacks to their old dead gods.”
“You mean like Orcus?” Tizzy grinned.
“Orcus was a demon, not a god.” Talarius glared at Tizzy. “Since you were apparently buddies with the foul one, I should think you would know that.”
“The orcs thought he was a god,” Tizzy said, still grinning. Clearly, the annoying creature was needling him.
“Orcs? Orcs are unethical, malignant barbarians and thugs. I’m not surprised they would have such low standards for a deity.”
“I dare you to go out in the corridors and start shouting that,” Tizzy said slyly.
“I am not stupid, demon,” Talarius replied. Why did he even engage this annoying thing? It had been gratifying to note that several of the old D’Orcs had not appeared too fond of Tizzy. Apparently the demon had been remarkably consistent over the last several thousand years.
~
Tal Gor finally finished selecting the twenty band members to join the hunt. It had actually been quite difficult, they were all essentially family. Or at least extended family. That, in fact, had been a big problem; he had his mother and father, two brothers and his sister. He finally decided to pick his siblings and told his parents that next time they could go. After that, well, he frankly went with those who had been the nicest to him over the last few years. A few had been more than difficult, or made nasty remarks about wishing him dead. They did not get selected.
His selected hunters sped off to their tents as Tal Gor turned to watch what was happening at the gate. Lord Tommus came over to him.
“I have another hunting party to send out in Etterdam in a few hours, so I will leave to take care of that and some other issues. What Vespa and I have discussed is that, when you have one or more large kills, contact me through our binding. We will then create a gateway to haul the kills to Mount Doom. We will store the kills for your warriors there in a cold room, and when the party returns, we will open a gate here and deliver the kills directly to camp. This will be much more efficient than trying to lug them around all day.”
“Yes, My Lord.” Tal Gor nodded. “How many kills are you expecting?”
“As many as we can reasonably and honorably get. I’ve got a lot of D’Orcs expecting a feast and they can eat a lot of meat.” Tommus smiled and patted Tal Gor on the shoulder. The demon lord’s giant claws caused Tal Gor to tense a bit in apprehension, but the demon lord was careful not to skewer him. Tal Gor felt a tingling of excitement; Lord Tommus had said he would be creating a gateway from the kill sites so apparently he would get to go along. This was truly the best day of his life.
He glanced over to see a couple of the D’Orcs at the edge of camp swatting at the tall plains grasses. He could not figure out what they were doing. It was extremely odd behavior, so he started wandering closer.
“Who ever heard of hairy ground?” one of the D’Orcs asked the other as he started pulling on some strands of four-foot high grass.
“It makes no sense. Why would the ground need hair? It does not sweat. It does not feel cold,” the other D’Orc said.
One of the more battle-scarred D’Orcs sneered at them. “It’s grass, you morons!”
“Grass?” the first D’Orc asked, looking up with a scowl.
“You mean the stuff that you old timers used to smoke after battle?” the second orc asked.
The older D’Orc shook his head in frustration. “No. That’s just a word we used for it. What we smoked was a distant relative, more like a weed that grew in hillocks and groves. This is regular grass. It is a plant that is eaten by a wide variety of animals, including those we hunt today.”
The older D’Orc turned to head back to the portal and spotted Tal Gor. He grinned. “These idiots were born in the Abyss, and have never been to the Planes of Orcs. Teaching and talking only goes so far; at some point you have to do.” He paraphrased the old orc saying. “You and your tribe mates won’t be the only ones on their first winged hunting party! We are going to be lucky if some of these bone-brains don’t get the heads and tails confused and slit the tail rather than the neck!” He shook his head and grinned.
Tal Gor chuckled as he turned his attention back to the portal.
The D’Orcs had just finished carrying tack and other gear through the gateway when a loud ruckus started on the other side. It sounded like a few hundred wargs! There were not actually that many, but they were loud and eager to hunt. D’Wargs were larger than the largest wargs Tal Gor had ever seen, and they had massive wings and claws nearly as fierce as Lord Tommus’s. The unusual tack that the D’Orcs had brought through now made sense.
About four D’Wargs had come through; others were preparing to follow when there arose some truly hideous snarls and growls. The D’Wargs that had been lined up to come through were forced back as what had to be the ugliest, scariest-looking D’Warg of them all barged through the gateway; spitting and snarling.
Tal Gor had no real idea how to judge age on a D’Warg; he supposed it was similar to a warg. If so, this was a rather old and very heavily scarred D’Warg. Its snout and jaw had apparently been broken and reset at some point, and its eyes were slightly off kilter, as if its skull had been somehow skewed. The head was huge with teeth so large and twisted, the D’Wargs’ lips could not close over them.
Further, as the D’Warg walked, it limped slightly. Not so much as in pain, as Tal Gor did, but more as if its leg lengths were different; or perhaps, Tal Gor thought, its hips and shoulders were at different angles. In any event, the ugly beast was glaring at everyone and everything as it came through the gate; the other D’Wargs fell back to give the hissing and spitting creature room.
Vespa groaned. “Tar Roth Non!” she yelled to a younger D’Orc on the other side of the gateway, who was working to get the D’Wargs through. “What is Schwarzenfürze doing here? You know no one can ride her! She won’t tolerate anyone and hasn’t since my great grandfather, Helmut, passed!”
“I’m sorry Commander, but when she saw the hunters gathering the saddles and harnesses, she started making all sorts of noises. Then when I began selecting the D’Wargs for this hunt, she butted through them and insisted on coming. I tried to grab her and stop her, but you know what she’s like!” Tar Roth Non shook his head forlornly. “When she’s in a mood like this, she doesn’t respond to commands!”
Vespa closed her eyes and shook her head as the beast glared around the camp and began snorting and sniffing at various orcs, all of whom tried to give her a wide birth. “Argh, did you get another then? We need enough for our companions.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am. I did,” Tar Roth Non said, stammering.
Tommus was grinning. “You seem to have things under control, Vespa, except perhaps for this D’Warg.” H
e chuckled; it sounded quite evil. “I need to get back. Tar Roth Non, can you clear some space?”
The young D’Orc nodded and shepherded a couple of D’Wargs out of the way, and Lord Tommus went back through the gateway.
Tal Gor jumped as something wet banged up against his bad leg. He glanced back and around. He had been so distracted by Lord Tommus’s departure that he had not seen the ugly D’Warg make its way around to him. It was poking its nose at his bad leg, and then in his butt crack, sniffing. Tal Gor stood perfectly still; this was clearly not a friendly D’Warg.
The D’Warg, Schwarzenfürze they had called her, stepped back and eyed him up and down as if trying to decide if he was a worthy meal. It then snorted as if in contempt and looked around the camp. After a moment, she moved again towards Tal Gor, pushing him with her muzzle, shoving him in the direction she had been staring.
Tal Gor nearly lost his footing; he twisted to stare at Vespa, not sure what he should do. Vespa was staring back at him, or more precisely, at Schwarzenfürze, and she seemed to be completely shocked.
“What does she want, Commander?” Tal Gor asked rather helplessly as the D’Warg shoved him again.
“I am not sure. It certainly can’t be what it looks like. I’ve known her my entire life; this is not like her.”
“What should I do?” Tal Gor asked.
“Unless you want to fall and be trampled by her claws, I’d suggest you move where she’s pushing you,” Vespa said. The other D’Orcs were also staring at the D’Warg.
She pushed him again, so Tal Gor moved forward, and the D’Warg pushed him again. He just kept moving where she pushed him. After a few pushes they were next to the saddles and harnesses the D’Orcs had brought through the gateway.
“By Lilith’s bloody teat!” one of the D’Orcs cursed. “I think the bitch wants him to ride her!”
“Ridiculous!” another exclaimed. “She won’t let anyone ride her. Even when she was mortal, she was a mean one; only Helmut could ride her. Even Vera, his wife, couldn’t get close.”
Tal Gor suddenly found himself sprawled on a saddle after the D’Warg pushed him into the pile. He looked at Vespa.
The commander was shaking her head. “Well, lad, I cannot in a million years believe this, but I think I’m going to have to show you how to saddle Schwarzenfürze. A D’Warg is different than a warg; the wings and the fact that you fly a thousand feet or more above ground makes the harness quite different.” She shook her head. “The rest of you Crooked Sticks, pay attention now. All the other D’Wargs will be simple to saddle in comparison.”
~
“You know, I find Trisfelt’s lady friend, Hilda, quite charming. She seems extremely perceptive and bright for a layman,” Lenamare observed apropos of nothing while applying butter to his toasted muffin.
Across the small breakfast table, Jehenna arched an eyebrow and glanced up from the letter she was reading. “You would think that,” she snorted.
Lenamare paused in mid-motion, tilting his head to ask, puzzled, “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Oh, come on.” Jehenna shook her head. “You must have noticed.” She reached for her cup of tea.
“Noticed what?” Lenamare asked, clearly confused and not understanding what she meant.
“Yesterday?” Jehenna gently shook her head from side to side. “She was buttering you up better than you’re doing to that muffin!”
Lenamare looked taken aback. “Seriously? You must be joking!”
Jehenna sighed. Putting the letter down on her lap, she stared directly at Lenamare. “You cannot tell me that you, Lenamare the Great, do not know when someone is flattering you?”
Lenamare’s mouth opened in a stunned O. He finally shook his head. “What possible reason could that woman have for flattering me? What end would that serve?”
Jehenna sighed heavily. “Men! You are all so dense. I don’t know why we women put up with you.” Lenamare was completely baffled at this point. Jehenna just stared at him. Finally she said, “She obviously has a crush on you!” She raised her hands in hopelessness. “She’s like any senior student infatuated with a famous professor!”
“No…” Lenamare denied. “That cannot be.” Now he was shaking his head. He paused and looked thoughtful.
“Men are always the last to realize when a woman is flirting with them,” Jehenna noted archly.
“But I thought she and Trisfelt were courting?” Lenamare said.
Jehenna gave her head a small shake. “Clearly, she’s simply using him to get access to you.”
Lenamare grimaced. “Ah, poor Trisfelt. Here I had been hoping he might have finally found himself a companion.”
“It is a shame, particularly since the woman is clearly working a lost cause,” Jehenna stated firmly.
“What do you mean, ‘lost cause’?” Lenamare asked, looking slightly insulted.
Jehenna closed her eyes briefly, and then reopened them. “It is a lost cause because you are with me, and that is not going to be changing. Is it?” Jehenna asked sternly. There could clearly be only one correct answer.
“Oh. Of course not.” Lenamare replied, startled and slightly embarrassed at having missed her meaning.
~
“I just want to stop by my suite to check on everyone before we launch the next hunting party,” Tom said. “I assume, since we are calling on Ragala-nargoloth, that you will be commanding the hunting party, Arg-nargoloth?”
“It would be my honor, Great One,” Arg-nargoloth said, clearly trying not to sound too pleased.
“I too would check on Fer-Rog, who I believe is with Rupert,” Zelda said.
“We shall meet the rest of you back here in the assembly area before long.” Tom nodded to the commanders. He and Zelda headed off towards Tom’s suite.
As they made their way through the corridors Tom asked Zelda, “Do you wish you were going?”
Zelda snorted slightly. “It would be a great experience. However, as steward, my duty is here in the mountain.”
Tom nodded. “But at some point, perhaps it would be good for you to go on a hunting party. After all, as the Steward of the Mount, you must intimately understand all details of the Mount and its provisioning.” He glanced at her.
Zelda nodded, “You are quite wise, My Lord, and when appropriate, I shall be honored to add to my skillset in order to serve the Mount.” Tom was not sure, but he thought he detected a bit of extra brightness in her eyes and the subtlest whisper of a miniscule grin of pleasure on her face.
“Excellent!” Tom smiled.
They entered his suite to find Reggie, Antefalken, Boggy, Tizzy and Talarius all there. Estrebrius was presumably still with Vaselle; Rupert and Fer-Rog were off someplace.
“You two are back!” Tom smiled at Reggie and Antefalken. He looked over to Talarius, who seemed a bit different. It took Tom a minute to register the difference in the knight’s posture. “Got a good night’s sleep, I take it?” Tom smiled at the knight, who immediately seemed to get agitated.
“I did rest for a bit,” Talarius admitted.
Tom grinned. “I see no one roasted you in the night.”
“No. They did not.” Talarius said tersely.
“Talarius, for the last time, I will not roast you or kill you down here. At some point, I will see to your safe return to Astlan. You have my word on it. Provided, of course, that you don’t try to or succeed in killing any of the others under my protection while you are here.”
Talarius made a harrumphing noise.
Zelda shook her head. “Knight, why do you doubt the word of Lord Tommus? Surely you know that in his previous existence, Lord Orcus was known as the God of Oaths and the Punisher of Perjurers. There was no greater crime that one could commit before Lord Orcus than to break one’s oath or to be foresworn.”
Hmm, do not remember that from the Monster Manual, Tom thought to himself. Not a bad thing; he really did get sort of bent out of shape when people broke their word. He shook
his head. He needed to keep his own head pulled back into reality, or whatever passed for reality around here. He was not Orcus reincarnated.
“Speaking of oaths,” Antefalken said, breaking into the conversation, “as you might imagine, I managed to freak Damien out a little with our adventures. It might not be a bad idea for you to pay him a visit and reassure him that nothing has changed.”
Antefalken chuckled. “I think Vaselle and I, between the two of us, may have been a bit much.”
“So the two of you double teamed him? Great!” Tom shook his head.
“Yeah, and by the way…” Antefalken paused; Tom nodded. “…one thing I suggested to reassure him was that perhaps he could come for a visit. Gastropé and Jenn have both been to the Abyss and lived. Talarius is here now, and seeing the knight safe might reassure him.”
Tom shrugged. “I have no real problem with that. He would need to know how to do the Cool spell that Gastropé and Jenn use. I am sure they could teach him.” Tom paused. “Or Jenn could—Gastropé is flying around killing liches.”
Antefalken grimaced. “Jenn is with Gastropé.”
Tom looked at the bard, puzzled. “Really? That seems odd. I didn’t think she cared that much for him.”
Antefalken shrugged. “The short answer is that the Council needed everyone who was being hunted by the Rod or Oorstemoth to be gone from the city, so they sent them on a quest. I am guessing that’s how they ended up flying around in the clouds fighting liches on dragonback.”
“A quest? A quest to rid the world of liches?” Tom asked.
“Well, the Council and many others have now seen a crystal ball recording of your battle, and apparently the Council noticed the flying carpet that we spotted before the battle. And they pretty much reached the same conclusion we did.”
Tom nodded, remembering the flying carpet with Bess, Exador and Ramses on it. Tom, Antefalken and Tizzy had assumed they were the three archdemons.
“By the way, I was thinking about Exador being an archdemon. It just seems bizarre. He’s a wizard known for enslaving demons,” Tom said.
“Slave, minimum wage employee—hard to tell the difference.” Tizzy shrugged.
