by J. Langland
His curly hair, made of strands of real gold, was held in place by a mithral coronet. His right biceps was also encircled with a silvery white mithral band. That was the extent of the jewelry. The god did not need much more than that; the chiseled, square face and the deep black eyes ensured that those viewing the god saw little else. Beragamos had to be careful not to look into the eyes. That was the trap of this form. One could easily get lost in their depths.
Beragamos waited silently for some time as the duels between the various knights played themselves out with Tiernon’s all-seeing gaze. Beragamos glanced at the knights. How they could practice under the gaze of Tiernon was beyond Beragamos. The pressure seemed unimaginable to him.
Eventually the knights finished and all bowed deeply before their god. Tiernon clapped in approval, sending shockwaves through the air that visibly moved the looser clothing on the knights, as well as Beragamos’s gown.
“EXCELLENT WORK, MY KNIGHTS!” he boomed. “WE ARE MOST PLEASED WITH YOUR EXERCISES. WE SHALL SEE YOU ALL TOMORROW.”
As the knights trotted off the field to the showers, the god slowly turned his gaze towards Beragamos. Crap! There it was. He had accidentally met Tiernon’s gaze and had to fight to keep from being drawn into those two enormous black spheres. A blackness deeper and darker than the darkest corner of starless space, a blackness so deep it seemed never-ending. However, as one peered more, one could sense that there was something in that blackness—a fire, orbs of fire, brightly burning stars? It was more a sense than an actual sight.
Beragamos blinked; Tiernon had released his gaze. Beragamos shook his head and then bowed deeply at the waist. “My Lord Tiernon! You have summoned me, your loyal servant.”
The god had a slight grin on his face. While he never admitted it, Beragamos had a suspicion that the god worked to purposefully trap him in his eyes. Simply because he knew how much it bothered the archon.
“INDEED, BERAGAMOS. APPROACH!” the god intoned.
Beragamos moved forward to stand at the foot of his god and peered upward, working to avoid the deity’s terrible gaze.
“WHAT IS THE NEWS ON THIS ASTLANIAN EVENT?”
“Thanks to Saint Hilda of Rivenrock’s excellent intelligence-gathering, we have determined that the demon who broke into and intercepted our illumination streams is known as Lord Tommus. In addition to stealing your mana and kidnapping your Knight Rampant, Talarius, he has apparently managed to restart Mount Doom in the Abyss and is now making connections to orc tribes on the material planes.”
“HE RESTARTED MOUNT DOOM?”
“Yes, my god.” Beragamos nodded.
“WOULD THAT NOT REQUIRE THE WAND?”
“From the accounts of witnesses interviewed by Saint Hilda, when Lord Tommus came through the portal to retrieve his minions from Murgatroy, he had a rod. The witnesses’ descriptions of this rod match that of the wand,” Beragamos said.
“HOW DID WE GET THESE WITNESS ACCOUNTS?”
“Saint Hilda traveled to Murgatroy with Saint Stevos Delastros and the priest that alerted us, Teragdor. There, they went to the wargtown, where the D’Orcs and orcs had stabled their D’Wargs.”
“ORCS WERE WILLING TO TALK TO AN AVATAR OF OURS?”
“Well, they did not know she was an avatar. She has been working undercover, pretending to be human. The priest led them to the wargtown, where the wargmaster was dismissive, but she bested him in short combat and then bought several rounds of drinks for the orcs in town to get their stories.”
Tiernon chuckled like thunder in a cloudless sky. “I LIKE THE SOUND OF THIS SAINT. I WILL NEED TO MEET HER.”
“Of course, Your Godship.” Beragamos was sure Hilda would not be quite so thrilled with the invitation; she was very low-key, and very smart. While some younger saints were foolish enough to long for their god’s attention, Hilda struck Beragamos as someone wise enough to know better.
“SO WHERE WAS THE WAND?”
“This was not clear, Your Godship. Sentir Fallon reported that it had disappeared at the time that Orcus’s body was dissolved by Excrathadorus Mortis. We have always assumed that it was so tightly linked to the demon prince that the magic of the blade destroyed it as well,” Beragamos said.
Tiernon sat silently for a few moments, thinking. “YES, I RECALL SENTIR FALLON’S ACCOUNT. APPARENTLY IT DID NOT DISSOLVE.”
“Clearly. It must have faded back to the Abyss, similar to how demons do,” Beragamos suggested.
“AND NO ONE NOTICED IT UNTIL NOW?”
“I would guess, and this is only a guess, that the D’Orcs retrieved it and guarded it until the prophesied return of Orcus.”
“PROPHESIED?”
Crap! The eyes! Beragamos blinked as he came back from being lost in the god’s stare once again. He shook his head and tried to continue. “Yes, My Lord. According to the orcs in the wargtown, there is, or was, an old prophecy made one hundred years after Orcus’s death. It was made in Etterdam by an orc shaman named Tiss-Arog-Dal,” Beragamos replied.
“A PROPHECY MADE BY A SHAMAN REGARDING A DEAD DEMON?”
Beragamos nodded.
“A TRUE PROPHECY REQUIRES DEIFIC GUIDANCE, PARTICULARLY FOR SOMETHING OVER SUCH A LONG TIME PERIOD. WHAT DEITY WOULD SUPERVISE A DEMON PROPHECY?”
“We have debated this issue, and found no answer.”
“DID WE KNOW OF THIS PROPHECY?”
“Not that I have been able to determine, my god. To be fair, if any churchman in Etterdam had heard of it, he would have likely dismissed it due to the lack of any discernable deific presence.”
Tiernon nodded, being careful not to make eye contact with Beragamos. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, thinking. “TIS-AROG-DAL.” The god reached up and rubbed his jaw. “BEFORE SUMMONING YOU, I REVIEWED YOUR REPORT ON THE EVENTS NEAR FREEHOLD.” Beragamos nodded. “YOU ARE SURE IT IS THE SAME DEMON?”
“The probabilities are such that anything else is very unlikely. First, the demon in Freehold went by the name Tom; the demon described by the orcs in Murgatroy is Tommus. Assuming one had the Wand of Orcus, it would still take tremendous energy to reignite the volcano. It would take, literally, a miracle. And that is essentially what he stole from you,” Beragamos explained.
Tiernon closed his eyes in thought, or perhaps Seeing. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again. “IN THE REPORT, YOU SAID THE DEMON HAD SERVANT DEMONS WITH HIM?”
“Yes, Your Godship.”
“DESCRIBE THEM TO ME IF YOU CAN.”
Beragamos nodded, thankful to Hilda for retrieving that balling. “There was a smaller version of the Tommus demon, identical but smaller. There was another small demon that wore clothes and had a musical instrument, like a bard.” Tiernon nodded. “The last one was another fiend, probably second order. Rather weird: splotchy green, four human arms, four human legs. Non-standard wings, more like a fairy’s or something.”
Tiernon was silent for some time, looking at Beragamos. He then closed his eyes in deep thought. Finally, the god spoke. “THE LAST DEMON YOU MENTIONED —DID IT SMOKE A PIPE?”
Beragamos blinked in shock and surprise. Apparently, gods really could be all knowing! “Yes, actually. Now that you mention it, he sat under a Net of Demon Entrapment, smoking a pipe very calmly. As I think on it, the behavior was a bit odd for the circumstances.”
Tiernon sighed. “NOT FOR THIS DEMON. HE IS INSANE.”
Beragamos blinked again. “Your Godship knows this demon?”
Tiernon paused and tilted his head slightly. “ ‘KNOW’ IS A STRONG WORD. WE HAVE ENCOUNTERED EACH OTHER ON A FEW OCCASIONS. HOWEVER, I HAVE NOT SEEN HIM FOR OVER FIFTY THOUSAND YEARS. I ASSUMED HE WAS DEAD. AS INSANE AS HE WAS, IT WOULD STAND TO REASON THAT SOMEONE WOULD HAVE ERADICATED THE ANNOYING PEST IN THE INTERIM.”
Tiernon was silent for a moment and then continued. “AT THE TIME, I TOOK HIM FOR A FOOL.”
“Understandable, my god.”
“BUT NOW I SUSPECT HE MAY NOT BE SO MUCH THE FOOL, AS THE ONE PLAYING
THE FOOL CARD.” Tiernon’s face seemed to take on a rueful expression as he shook his head from side to side. “WE SHALL HAVE TO SEE.”
Beragamos frowned, not quite understanding his god’s meaning. Further, the god finished with a different, odd expression on his face, and as always with this form, Beragamos had trouble interpreting it.
Chapter 111
DOF+10
Early Morning (Murgatroy)
Jenn gripped the carpet handles tightly as the crazed pilot dive-bombed the ground at record speed. Her stomach was going to come up soon. This was not the sort of ride someone with a hangover enjoyed. She glanced over to see that Gastropé was not pale for a change; his face appeared quite green in the early morning fierdlight.
It really was not a good thing to get world-shaking bad news about the Forces Of Evil (FOE), as the alvar called their enemies, when one was drunk. It was even worse to be plunging into an exploratory mission while hungover.
After receiving Bastien’s news, the senior alvar and Trevin went into a private consultation and came back shortly to announce that they were returning to the Nimbus and leaving for Murgatroy at once. It was only about eighty leagues, so the Nimbus could be there shortly after dawn. Jenn had shaken her head last night, trying drunkenly to comprehend such insane speed.
A second messenger arrived shortly before they boarded the Nimbus, but there was not much news beyond what they had already learned. Thus, they left with no clue as to whether there still even was a Murgatroy. Based on the information she had heard, Jenn suspected there would be, but the alvar seemed very paranoid.
Their carpets came in for a landing outside of town, near a large encampment that Seamach identified as the wargtown. It took them very little time to disembark, as the aetós and dwarves came armed and ready for combat, and were quite skilled at carpet landings under hostile conditions.
Jenn was not seeing much in the way of hostile conditions. There seemed to be no real activity coming from the town. There seemed to be a few wargs moving about, but no sign of any orcs moving about.
“Where are all the orcs in the wargtown?” Maelen asked Seamach.
Seamach was staring at the town carefully. “I see some bodies littered in the streets, but no movement.”
“Surely the D’Orcs wouldn’t have slain orcs in a wargtown?” Trevin asked.
“You would think survivors from the city would have come out to bury them,” Elrose noted.
“Not if they slaughtered everyone in the city,” Captain Ehéarellis said. “It would not be unheard of.”
They all looked towards the gates. The walls of the town were wooden tree trunks knit together. The gates were shut tight and there appeared to be no sign of activity. “Well, it is shortly after dawn,” Jenn noted hopefully.
“What sort of town doesn’t open its gates at dawn?” Gastropé asked.
“One full of corpses,” Darowin said.
“I really hate to admit it, but the dwarf has a point,” Seamach noted grimly.
“Guardians: by land and air, standard approach to the wargtown,” Trevin commanded.
The dwarves quickly fell into formation, bringing up their shields and moving towards the town. The aetós took to the air in formation and headed toward the town as well.
Once the dwarves got within about two hundred feet, Darowin called back to them. “There seems to be a horrible ruckus going on.”
“Ruckus?” Maelen asked.
“It’s snoring!” Darowin shouted back a few minutes later.
Jenn could almost feel the tension ease palpably in the air as people’s shoulders relaxed. The aetós flew in and began inspecting more closely; the dwarves eased up and moved in as well. After a few minutes, Treyfoêr flew back with a report.
“It appears everyone in the wargtown is completely passed out. In place, not even in their beds or sleeping blankets. A few are, but most seem to have fallen off benches and stools and gone to sleep.” He shook his head. “The smell of stale glargh and piss is really bad. It almost masks the stench of the wargs.”
“Is it standard orc procedure to allow everyone to just pass out with no guards or fortifications?” Gastropé asked, indicating the openness of the town. Anyone could just walk up and come in, as the dwarves had just done. His brow furrowed. “We have soldiers marching through their tents, and still no one has woken up.”
“It is not standard, as far as I know,” Seamach said, also frowning. “Although they’ve been known to let their guard down at some very serious celebrations.”
“Hoy there!” came a voice from the direction of the town gates. They all looked in that direction to see the gates being pulled into their day positions. A man, apparently human, was walking towards them. “Don’t be pilfering the wargtown or there will be hell to pay!”
“We won’t be taking anything. We were simply investigating why there was no movement,” Trevin called back.
The man arrived shortly. He was wearing a rather tacky and stained town guard uniform and had not shaved in some time. “Aye, they all went on a bender yesterday afternoon and really never stopped until they all passed out. ‘Twas a real pain for the folks who wanted to reclaim their wargs and such. They made do, but I suspect there will be some reckoning of payments at some point.”
“Is this normal?” Trevin asked.
“Nah, most of them ain’t got the kind of money you need to get this drunk,” the guard said, shaking his head before spitting.
“So what was different this time?” Maelen asked.
The guard squinted. “Well, from what I gather from those who returned to town before the others passed out, there was this large blonde woman and her associates who came to hear the tales of the D’Orcs from the day before. ‘Course, they didn’t want to talk to a human, not until she whupped Meat Maker, but then she bought them glargh all afternoon and listened to their tales.”
“And then they passed out?” Elrose asked.
“Nah, that’s when a few did return and I learned what was up. But the rest, they kept drinking on their own coins, presumably. Once an orc is drunk, it’s hard for them to stop until either their glargh or money is gone. It’s either that or pass out.”
Seamach snorted and gave Captain Ehéarellis a knowing look.
“So the D’Orcs and orcs who came to town the other day —were they any trouble?” Trevin asked.
The guard shook his head. “Actually not. They were much better behaved and better organized than the majority of hunting parties coming through town. No drinkin’, no fights, no rowdiness or noise. They just bought what they needed and then left.”
“Left? Which direction did they go?” Maelen asked.
“As I heard it, they didn’t go any direction.” The guard pointed off east-southeast. “They came from there. They left through a big fire.”
“A big fire?” Seamach asked, puzzled.
“A hole in a giant bonfire they started,” the guard said.
“A portal to the Abyss,” Gastropé said. Jenn nodded in agreement. The two of them had been through more than enough of those things for a lifetime.
The guard shrugged, only knowing what he reported.
Elrose shook his head. “Well, the good news is that they didn’t cause any problems.”
“But what foul scheme have they cooked up?” Captain Ehéarellis said.
Trevin nodded. “I want my people to run some forensics on the town, the markets they visited. See if we can get any signs, perhaps residual signals that we can read.”
Elrose nodded. “That does seem prudent.”
“Maybe if we get lucky, they’ll come back,” Seamach said. Jenn and Gastropé gave the elf looks of disbelief.
~
“Great,” Darflow Skragnarth said hollowly.
“What?” Lesteroth Garflog asked his commander.
“That fellow there”—Darflow pointed down the hall to a fiend who seemed to be hightailing it out of the fortress—“has brought us new orders from our glorio
us Queen of Darkness.”
“Didn’t she just send orders last night for a recon job?” Lesteroth asked.
“She did.”
“And the new orders?”
“Full-on assault, eliminate all the D’Orcs and their new ruler,” Darflow said with a sigh.
“Seriously?” Lesteroth said in shock. He grabbed the missive from his commander’s grasp and scanned it. “Abyss! She is really serious this time,” Lesteroth said with a very surprised look on his face.
Darflow shrugged. “She is sending in reinforcements. Given that we only have about a thousand demons left, I am both shocked at her generosity and pleasantly surprised.”
“Agreed. Doom has twice our numbers, and now somebody is driving the pyrotechnics.” Lesteroth pointed out to the stormy, rumbling volcano. “If she is sending reinforcements, she must be serious this time.”
“So,” Darflow said, shrugging, “we are to wait for the reinforcements to arrive. I wonder what sort of reinforcements she is sending?”
“It had better be something serious if she wants to actually pull this off,” Lesteroth replied.
~
Hilda was enjoying a breakfast of fresh strawberries, muffins and a glass of orange juice and sparkling wine when a knock came at the door. Danyel rose to answer it. It had been a long night; first there was the meeting in Tierhallon, and then she had returned and spent until dawn listening to Ruiden’s firsthand account of the battle. Unfortunately, he had been buried in ice for some of the exciting parts. Fortunately, as a sword he relied on his extrasensory perceptions, which had given him a better vantage point than being stuck inside a giant ball of ice would normally allow.
“It seems oddly early for someone to be calling,” Hilda observed.
Danyel opened the door. From the angle, Hilda could not see who it was, but she did recognize the voice. This was most unusual!
“Ah, you must be the young Danyel I have heard so much about,” an old man’s voice said. It sounded different in mortal form, but was still recognizable.
“I am; and you are, sir?” Danyel was clearly puzzled.
