by J. Langland
Dante took a bow. As he rose, he raised his arms again and cried, “Behold! The Inferno!”
Chapter 112
The recently cleaned pipe organs in the volcano throne room swelled in unison with the voices of the fully assembled D’Orc battalions at the conclusion of the oath taking.
United forever in comradeship and battle
Our mighty Empire will ever endure.
The Great Empire of Doom will live through the ages
The dream of the people, their fortress secure.
Long live our Mount Doom motherland
Built by the people’s mighty hand.
Long live our people, united and free
Strong in our comradeship tried by fire.
Long may our crimson flag inspire
Shining in glory for mortals to see.
Through days dark and stormy where Lord Tommus leads us
Our eyes see the bright fire of freedom above.
And Tommus our leader, with faith in the people
Inspires us to build up the land we love.
Long live our Mount Doom motherland
Built by the people’s mighty hand.
Long live our people, united and free
Strong in our comradeship tried by fire.
Long may our crimson flag inspire
Shining in glory for mortals to see.
We fight for the future, and shall destroy invaders
And bring our homeland the laurels of fame.
Our glory will live in the memory of mortals
And all generations will honor her name.
Long live our Mount Doom motherland
Built by the people’s mighty hand.
Long live our people, united and free
Strong in our comradeship tried by fire.
Long may our crimson flag inspire
Shining in glory for mortals to see.
Reggie leaned forward and over to whisper in Tom’s ear. “Does that music sound oddly like the anthem the sailors sang in The Hunt for Red October?”
Tom shrugged. It did sort of sound like the old Soviet anthem, but he was not an expert on empires that collapsed before he was born.
It did not matter. This was his home. His homeland, his people! The booming, very martial music was the perfect capstone on the last day of oaths. D’Orcs united and inspired once more for a bright future! They would take on the multiverse, right the wrongs of the past, and bring justice to the D’Orcs and the Orcs! No more would Lilith or the smugly arrogant Los Alfar be able to look down on their people!
Tom felt like his heart would burst with the pride and joy of the assembled and once more united D’Orcs and D’Wargs as well as their assembled allies. Truly a glorious moment that would remain in their memories for all eternity. Literally, for all of eternity. Immortality, fame, glory; it was theirs to claim! Tom let his breath out softly, realizing it had been stuck in his lungs; he had been inhaling the smell of the moment and had forgotten to let it go. At long last, or well, after forty days, he had a purpose, a place. For the first time since Lenamare had dragged him away from his past life, he could see a future for himself.
~
“Quite a day,” Antefalken said to Drag-Krallnom, watching the assembled battalions beside him.
“Truly, bard. I confess, I did not think this day would ever come.”
“You know that I am going to have to get you to tell me the real story of what happened four thousand years ago. I know the Balladae Orcusae, but I want to compose a new, accurate song to commemorate it properly.”
Drag-Krallnom snorted. “It would be good to correct the propaganda that Lilith and her brood spews in the Abyss, and those vile alvar in Midgard.”
“Are you saying that Lilith and the alvar are somehow in league with each other?” Antefalken asked in surprise.
“In no way that we can prove,” replied Darg-Krallnom. However, Lilith has plagued us for millennia here and the Los Alfar have done the same in Midgard. It all goes back to tensions left unresolved at Ragnarök. Lilith, and for that matter, many others in multiple worlds, felt those issues were resolved in Etterdam with the treacherous defeat of Orcus. However, as was prophesied, those issues are not resolved.” He chuckled. “There shall be another reckoning, and this time, justice will prevail.”
“Interesting,” Antefalken mused. “This is all way before my time. Clearly, there is a lot that Lilith has never revealed to me.”
“You have met Lilith then?” Darg-Krallnom asked suspiciously.
Antefalken chuckled. “I have. I am, or I suppose was, the preferred bard for the Courts.” He shook his head. “But I am sure I am persona non grata now. She knows that I am, and have been for some time, in Tom’s camp. The Jilted Bride is a jealous mistress and will tolerate no infidelity.” He paused and then added, “In other words, I am not going back to the Courts unless it is flying in formation with a D’Orc army.” They both chuckled.
“The Jilted Bride?” Darg-Krallnom asked.
“Yes. I advise not using that name outside of Doom. She hates that title more than any other.”
“Why? I do not know that name for her.”
“A very, very long time ago, well before Doom was built, she was the intended of a man named Adam. She thought they were in love.” Antefalken shrugged, “Old story; he ran off with another woman named Eve to bear children and live a mortal life.”
“A mortal life?”
“As she tells it, there were four of them: Adam, Lilith, Sammael and Eve. Adam and Lilith were intended for each other, and Sammael and Eve were also intended for each other. However, long story short, Eve apparently ate some bad food and convinced Adam to do the same. Not sure if it was hallucinogenic or what, but the two ran off to become mortal and have babies.” Antefalken shook his head. “I have no idea how much, if any, of that is true, but it’s a version she tells, so it is possibly more accurate than any of the other stories. Of which there are many.”
“So that is how she and Sammael got stuck together?” Darg-Krallnom asked.
“As she tells it.”
Darg-Krallnom said, “Very well then. From now on, the Jilted Bride will be the official term for our enemy.”
They watched as the D’Orcs began to file from the volcano basin, heading to the party. It was a good day.
~
Tom waited until the last of the D’Orcs had filed out of the throne room and then headed toward the master kitchen, where Zelda was working to get things out. As he crossed a ramp going down to other kitchens, he ran into Tizzy coming up the ramp.
“Tom!” Tizzy exclaimed happily.
“Tizzy!” Tom smiled at him.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Tizzy said.
Tom stopped. “What’s up?”
“There is a pile of mud in an alcove off my kitchen’s main corridor that wants to talk to you,” the octopod said.
“There is a what?” Tom asked, blinking.
“A pile of animated mud,” Tizzy said.
“A pile of animated… mud?”
“Yes, you know—a mud golem.”
Tom shook his head. “No I don’t know. You are saying there is a mud golem down near your kitchen that wants to talk to me?” Tom looked at him askance. “Did you get too close to your oven’s fires? You are not making much sense.”
“It said that the shamans had promised to bring you to see it after you finished the oath taking.”
“Uh, well, I have not seen them yet. I was going to meet with Zelda and then join them at the party,” Tom said.
“Okay. Hate to think they were not keeping their promise to the mud golem.”
Tom shook his head. Just when he thought the crazy was over for the day. “So do I need to talk to this mud golem?” He was tired, yet there was still a lot of work to do. He did not really have time for Tizzy’s insanity.
“Yeah, I said I’d come get you. I’m not going to break a promise to a mud golem,” Tizzy replied.
Tom tried to rub the bridge of his nose without gouging out his eyes with his claws. He sighed and shook his head. “Okay, lead on!”
Tizzy led him down the ramp to another level and then down a second corridor a short distance to another ramp down. They went down that ramp and headed toward what Tom recognized as the kitchen Tizzy and his demons were using. They turned and went down a side corridor a short ways until encountering an alcove with mud oozing out onto the corridor floor.
“Here we go.” Tizzy gestured to what appeared to a mud statue of some sort of humanoid. The mud statue raised its right hand in a sort of wave greeting.
“Ahm puhleshed doe mheat u, Lorhd Dommush,” the mud golem said.
Tom blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand…?”
The mud golem twisted its neck head towards Tizzy.
“Oh, sorry, I’ll translate,” said Tizzy. “It’s speaking universal, but mud golems are not the best at pronouncing human words.” He tilted his head. “Although they are much better at it than Denubians.” The mud golem bobbed its neck/head up and down in agreement.
“So what did it say?”
“Oh, right. It said, ‘I am pleased to meet you, Lord Tommus.’ ” Tizzy said.
“Can it understand me?” Tom asked. The mud golem nodded. Tom smiled. “Pleased to meet you… mud golem.” Tom was not sure if mud golems had names.
“Whahaw. Mah nahmeesh dahmahreen,” the mud golem said.
Tom glanced to Tizzy. Tizzy jumped. “Sorry, forgot. The mud golem laughed and said its name is Tamareen. Or is it Tamarin?” Tizzy asked the mud golem.
“Dahmahrine,” the mud golem said.
“Tamarin, but pronouncing the ‘i’ more like a sort of ‘ee’ sound,” Tizzy said.
“So, Tamarin… It is a pleasure to meet you. How can I help you?” Tom had no idea why a mud golem would want to talk with him, or…never mind. Tom reminded himself that asking too many questions just led to too many more.
“Wa wahn rhe-estahbish rehlaahshons wihdh Doohm.”
“They want to re-establish relations with Mount Doom,” Tizzy said.
The mud golem, Tamarin, nodded its neck/head.
“Okay, so mud golems had relations with Mount Doom in the old days and they want to re-establish them?” Tom supposed that made some sense. Most of Doom was underground, and now that it was raining, there was mud.
“Whahahw whahaw,” the mud demon laughed, and Tizzy joined it.
“Okay, what’s so funny?” Tom asked.
Tizzy shook his head. “You, that’s pretty funny! Wanting to establish relationships with mud golems!”
“It just asked to do that! What’s so funny?” Tom asked, annoyed.
“Mud golems are golems! They are automatons; robots would be the Earth equivalent. They are not sentient in and of themselves!” Tizzy said, still laughing.
“So the owner of the mud golem wants to re-establish relations?” Tom asked.
“Well, no,” Tizzy said hesitantly, looking at the mud golem. “I assume that Tamarin is asking to re-establish relations with Mount Doom on behalf of hir people?” Tamarin nodded its neck/head.
“Tamarin’s people?” Tom nodded, feeling they were getting somewhere finally.
“And who are Tamarin’s people?” Tom asked.
Tizzy gave Tom a look like Tom was crazy. “Why the djinn, of course. I figured you knew that!” Tamarin nodded affirmatively.
“Djinn?” Tom shook his head. “You mean like genies?”
Tizzy twisted his lips a bit. “That is not their favorite term, but that is basically the common phrase for their race.”
Tom shook his head. “So the race of genies—I’m sorry, djinn—want to have diplomatic relations with Mount Doom?”
“I think we’ve been making that pretty clear.” Tizzy looked to Tamarin, who nodded.
“And the djinn had diplomatic relations with Orcus?” Tom asked.
“Indeed, although you do not want to use the word ‘diplomatic’; that will cause a lot of problems. Think of it as a long and mutually beneficial partnership.” Tizzy nodded, as did Tamarin.
“So, this is a good idea?” Tom asked Tizzy.
Tizzy shook his head. “Of course it is! No one in hir right mind would toss a bottle back in the sea or re-bury a lamp in the sand. That would be stupid. If the djinn want to do business with you, you take them up on it!”
Tom closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay, so what do we need to do to establish these relations?”
Tizzy looked to Tamarin. “Ahh neehd ahn ahngohr.”
“Tamarin needs an anchor to this realm,” Tizzy said.
“Okay, how do we find one of those?” Tom asked.
Tizzy shook his head. “An anchor is a person. Typically the king or prince of the realm.”
“So me? I should be the anchor?” Tom asked.
“Exactly!” Tizzy said and Tamarin nodded.
“Okay, so how do I do that?” Tom asked.
Tamarin started speaking very rapidly to Tizzy. Tom could not even try to parse out what it said.
Tizzy nodded, seemingly having no problem understanding the mud golem. “You need to stick your hands into the mud golem’s body and say ‘I,’ and then your true name, ‘take you,’ Tamarin’s true name, ‘to be my djinn.’ And that’s it.
“That’s it?” Tom asked dubiously.
“Yep, and from the link that forms, Tamarin will choose a form from your mind that is most appropriate.”
“Okay, so how do I know Tamarin’s true name?” Tom asked.
“Tamarin will give it to you in your mind once you stick your hands in the golem,” Tizzy said.
“Okay, then. Do we just do it now?” Tom asked. Tamarin nodded.
Tizzy said, “Yep.”
“Okay, then,” Tom said. He gently reached forward to touch the mud golem’s torso. His claws met no real resistance as they slid into the mud golem’s body. Once inside, Tamarin nodded. Tom could definitely feel something. With his demon sight, he could see Tamarin’s aura and his own sort of intermingling at the mud golem’s body. “I, Thomas Edward Perkinje, take you, Tamarines DarNathos Parfeuesnas Deblentre, as my djinn!”
Tom felt a rush very similar to the one he had felt with Vaselle and the shamans, as well to a lesser extent the D’Orcs. Sort of a brief joint possession of each other. He had to close his eyes at the world of colors, sounds, smells, emotions, tastes and other sensations that nearly overwhelmed him.
Tom opened his eyes, realizing they were closed. He blinked and looked to find a purplish bottle in his hands instead of a mud golem.
Tom looked at Tizzy. “Where did Tamarin go?”
Tizzy pointed to the bottle. “She’s in the bottle now.”
“She is in the bottle? Tamarin is a girl? Why did you keep calling her an it?” That seemed rude.
Tizzy shook his head. “Djinn don’t have any sex. It makes no sense in their realms. When they anchor with someone on a material plane, or in this case, the Abyss, they take a form pleasing and comfortable to their new master.”
“Master?” Tom asked dubiously.
“Sort of how the anchoring rules work. Very complex,” Tizzy said, waving his upper hands dismissively.
“So Tamarin is in this rather large, purple bottle?” Tom asked.
“That is what I said.”
“So how do I get her out?”
“Remove the cork and ask her to come out. However, you might want move out of the mud. I say that simply based on the sort of clothing djinn typically wear.”
Tom sighed. “Okay, let’s go back to the main corridor.” The two walked back along the main corridor to the kitchen. Tom stopped and looked at the bottle. “Well, here we go!”
Tom pulled the rather large glass stopper from the bottle and said, “Tamarin, please come out!”
The bottle trembled and suddenly pink smoke started pouring out of the bottle. Tom suddenly had a bad feeling. If the djinn took an image from his mind…
The pink cloud grew to be about the size of a normal human and then moved beside Tom and Tizzy and hovered near the floor. The cloud began to reshape into a sort of hourglass form. The form bent over, and the next thing Tom knew, there was a very buxom, young, blonde, human woman in a pink harem outfit bowing before him.
“Master, I thank thee for releasing me from my bottle!” said Tamarin, smiling brightly and standing up straight.
Tom shook his head; there was no question of where Tamarin had gotten the image. The pink harem costume was quite revealing, but it covered her belly button. He really should not have watched so many old reruns on cable TV. Further, given the sort of problems Jeanie had caused Major Nelson, Tom was a bit worried as to what he was getting into.
~
DOF +10 DZ+40
Early 6th Period 16-07-440
Tom sat upon his short throne in the grand dining hall at the head table. Technically, this was only the second party he had ever been to, not counting any of his parent’s parties. The last one had not ended so well. Or maybe it had. He now had a pretty cool volcano to live in, an army of super-warriors, and now a genie!
Tamarin had slid a stool up to his right, between him and Darg-Krallnom. Zelda was to his left. She had looked at their newest guest rather suspiciously at first, as had Darg-Krallnom. However, Darg-Krallnom noted the purple bottle Tom was carrying and nodded. When Tamarin had whispered something in Darg-Krallnom’s ear, the D’Orc commander had laughed uproariously and slapped the table.
Tom had had so much to do, that he’d had little time to talk to Tamarin, just the time he could make between various stops on his rounds. She seemed fine with this, though, and said they could speak in more detail later. Her principal objective of anchoring had now been achieved.
Tom tried to focus on the music. The Doom Metal was pretty cool. He hoped that they were just rusty with their instruments and were not actually trying to get such an extreme, hard-core industrial sound. He supposed x-glargh would make the hard banging, clanking and shrill strings sound better. However, he would work at enjoying it sober, or as sober as possible. The D’Orcs were enjoying it, anyway, and that was what was important.
