by Langland, J.
While he looked familiar, it took Jenn a little while to recognize him. It was one of the wizard's who'd ambushed her party. The one the demon had let run off. "You!" She accused.
~
Gastropé looked up at her. Until she'd shouted at him, Gastropé had only been vaguely aware that she was there. He'd paid just enough attention to be sure they weren't coming to get him when the tent flap had opened, and then sunk back into his misery. When he looked up at the shout, he recognized the caravan wizard who'd entangled him in weeds. He was momentarily startled. "What," Gastropé said flatly.
"You're one of the murdering scum that attacked my caravan. You're one of Exador's men! What are you doing in here?"
"I failed, your caravan won, thanks to that...that...demon thing of yours. Exador's annoyed, now he's going to punish me. Kill me; turn me into a toadstool; torture me; I don't know. It is all your fault though." Gastropé said, getting slightly angry towards the end.
Jenn was taken aback. "My fault! You attacked me? And it’s my fault you got your butt kicked?"
"Well, if you'd just surrendered, we would have taken you back here, and you'd be in the same place you are now, but I'd be in good standing. So , yes, it’s your fault." Gastropé said, seeming to perk up a little as he thought about it. They did capture her, thanks to his information; maybe Exador would be lenient.
"You have plenty of nerve. You and your buddies killed people I knew and cared for, and you have the nerve to blame me?" Jenn was mad again, mad enough to feel mean. "You're absolutely crazy! You talk tough now, but you weren't looking too mean last time I saw you. If I get my hands free, I'll summon my demon and see if you don't feel like being more reasonable." Gastropé blanched when Jenn said this. She immediately regretted having said it. Goddess knew how much the demon frightened her, and this kid had even more reason to fear Tom than she did. Not that she'd ever be stupid enough to summon the demon, but even so, the threat wasn't very nice. She couldn't take it back though. He had been asking for it, hadn't he?
They both sat in silence. There wasn't much to say. All they could really do was sit and wait for the return of Exador. Jenn, of course, decided to use the time to figure out how to escape. If only she could teleport. Of course, she'd still need to get the book back first. But if she could teleport, things would be a lot better. At the moment things didn't look too good.
Chapter 37
This is not my day; or rather, not my current incarnation, thought Tom. He wasn't exactly sure what to call it, but this current trip to Astlan just wasn't working out that well. He was sitting around bored in his cave, and this Jehenna Cut'n Run calls wanting help. So what's he do, he comes to Astlan, of his own free will even. The next thing he knows, he's knee deep in the dead; doing things no human being should ever be able to do. First of all, no one should be powerful enough to take out a whole band of soldiers with his own bare hands. Second, no decent human should be able to so blithely murder so many people so quickly, and feel so little about it.
That was part of what was bothering him. He really should feel more remorse over killing all those men. Why didn't he? He'd gone in and ripped men apart with his own hands without even thinking about it. What sort of person could do that? As far as he could figure, the only people who should be able to do that sort of thing and feel so little were serial killers. Did even they feel so little?
Even now, he was more upset about not feeling bad about killing them, then he did about killing them. Sure, he'd heard of a kill or be killed instinct taking over people in times of war or battle. But was that sort of attitude really justified in his case? There really was no kill or be killed. Those soldiers couldn't have killed him. At worst they could have damaged him enough to send him back to the Abyss, and it was extremely doubtful that those guys could even do that.
Following that -- for who knows what reason, boredom? Something -- he decides to play hired gun for a girl that hated him and a little kid making puppy dog eyes. So ok, maybe it was the right thing to do, despite the girl's cynicism. Even if it was the right principle, he had screwed that one up too. Demons come along and kidnap her, and he doesn't stop them. Demons that he knows the girl and the kid don't stand a chance against, but which he knows he can take on without running out of breath. He blew it. Now the girl, who he'd agreed to make his responsibility was gone. Kidnapped by vile creatures of hell.
Well, actually, they were really men like himself, but that was part of what worried him. He was afraid of the sort of violence he'd seen himself commit without thinking. He knew what he was capable of. What about these other demons, who could in fact be bitter after years of slavery and be more than willing to take out their hatred on a young wizard. Consider what Boggy had done to his accursed master!
Here, as a demon, Tom was continually finding himself incapable of controlling his emotions and his actions. He, who had always prided himself on being a calm, cool headed, analytic type, was literally running amuck. How he could trust someone who might not even have the semblance of control that he prided himself on having, someone of obvious criminal intent. Criminal intent? Well wouldn’t purposefully kidnapping someone require criminal intent? Certainly, but killing a few dozen soldiers doesn't! Hah! Tom almost laughed hysterically at himself.
What was happening to him? Why was he in this situation? why me? Tom wanted to cry out. He didn't, of course. Rupert was there, running around in circles wanting to know what to do. Tom had to keep a stiff upper lip as the British always said in the movies. He couldn't show weakness. Rupert was counting on him, him! to solve the problem and get Jenn back. How was he going to do this? How did he get stuck in this farcical hero role? If he were a character in a book he was reading, he'd damn the author to hell. Hmm, well, given the circumstances, at least he could then punch the author in the face because they'd both be in the same place. Tom almost laughed hysterically again.
As it was, there was no one to blame for his situation. Except maybe Lenamare and Jehenna for enslaving him, this Exador guy for warring on Lenamare, his friends Paul and Reggie who gave him the joint, his mother for moving them to Harding, 'to get away from the old place,' and forcing him to have to go to a stupid party to make new friends. His stepdad for divorcing his mom. Finally blame the whole stupid party for making him take the damn joint.
Blame himself for taking the joint. That was it, of course. It was his own fault. No one else's. One lousy joint, and here he was literally damned to hell. A little severe, but maybe those right-wing preacher types weren't all crazy. They were certainly correct in this case. Oh, sure, it wasn't exactly what they'd meant, but the idea was there. It was kind of, Tom thought, like believing that you can't get pregnant by having sex just once without protection. No one ever died from one joint! Not until now. Now he was doomed to being some sort of robotic killing machine going around munching up humans at the beck and call of some two bit wizard. Ok, maybe, thought Tom, an eight bit wizard. Tom almost smiled to himself. If the guy can throw nuclear bomb spells, then he's definitely worth a buck. The guy was certainly playing with a full byte.
Of course, all of this useless philosophizing wasn't getting him anywhere. One would think he was the villain, going on for hours on end with a boring monologue of their innermost thoughts, rather than the heroic man of action. Heroic Man of Action! Hah! So what action could he take? How was he going to get the girl back so she could continue hating him.
Of course, if this were a movie, or a book, and he rescued her, then the hero handbook would require her to fall madly in love with him. She'd forget the fact that he was a demon and love him for what was inside instead. She'd realize that he was the good guy and everyone would be happy, they'd marry, the book would end. Then in the sequel they'd set out together to rescue their half human-half demon children from some other evil megalomaniac. What could they do for a trilogy?
Give it up, Tom told himself, you really are going insane. "So, what are the chances these demons that grabbed Jenn work for the g
uy besieging the castle?" Tom asked Rupert.
Rupert stopped pacing abruptly. Tom had been quiet for so long, that his voice had startled him. "Well, I don't know. Why would Exador's people want Jenn? Do you have any enemies? Could it be some ancient feud of yours? Could they having been trying to sabotage what they thought was your assignment?"
"I doubt that. I don't have any enemies that I know of."
Rupert looked at him curiously. "Oh. You killed them all off? Little gruesome, but practical I suppose. Cuts down on revenge crazed maniacs."
"No! I didn't kill them, I've just never made any enemies that would be around here." On Earth maybe, but doubtful, Tom thought.
"Really, in all those centuries, you've never made an enemy?"
Tom looked at the kid exasperatedly, "No. Just exactly how old do you think I am? Never mind, is there anyone else who might send demons to kidnap Jenn? Lenamare or Jehenna?"
"Lenamare or Jehenna waste that kind of magic on a student? Not even if the student's life depended on it. Jenn didn't have any enemies that powerful, that I know of. Her parents weren't nobility or anything."
"So then, it must be Exador. Would they have taken her back to the army?"
"You're the greater demon. Where do you normally drag women off to when you kidnap them?"
"I don't drag them off," he looked at the kid, harshly, knowing what he was thinking. "No, I don't just kill them on the spot either."
"I didn't say you did. But I don't know. Seems as good a place as any."
"Of course, if Lenamare nuked the army, there probably isn't anything left to take her back to."
Rupert nodded, he didn't know much of anything about the spell, other than it was supposed to be powerful. He supposed Tom would understand such things. "I don't know where Exador's castle is. Thus the school is the only place they could have taken that we know where it is.
"Unless they took her to the Abyss..." Rupert added a second later.
"The Abyss? Well, yeah, I guess, but what would they do with her there."
Rupert got kind of pale.
"Sorry, assuming they work for Exador, and he wants something from her, then what would they do with her in the Abyss?"
"Hold her there. It would be impossible for her to escape from there. She isn't a good enough wizard to get out. Actually, I don't think any wizards are that good."
"True, but then, how would we find her? Finding her there would be just as hard as finding her here."
"Would it? I've never been there. Would you take me some time?"
Tom looked at the kid askance. What the hell? literally, was wrong with this kid?
"But anyway, wouldn't she stick out like a sore toe? After all, how many humans can there be in the Abyss?"
Everybody, Tom thought, but it wasn't worth going into right now, he knew what the kid meant. "True, but even so, we can't search every cave in the Abyss. It just isn't practical."
"Do you have any connections? Other demons that could tell if something like this was going on there?"
"I don't think so..." Tom paused, thinking. He doubted Boggy or Tizzy would be able to find anything like this out. "No, not really."
"Well then, I guess that means there is only one place to look."
"Back to the castle. I guess I'll carry you so we can go faster."
"Ok then, but what will we do with the horses? They won't let me get close enough to unsaddle them, nor will they let you. So just turning them loose is going to be a problem."
Tom was tempted to say 'Eat them?' but decided the joke would be in poor taste, given the situation. He just shrugged and stared at the horses, pondering what to do.
Chapter 38
The courts hadn't changed much since the last time Antefalken was there. Which, given that he was last there two weeks ago, was actually saying quite a bit. The Courts of Chaos tended to change with the moods and temperaments of the people dwelling there. Currently it was in the ever popular urban-punk mode. The Courts, which essentially comprised a small city, looked like the standard post-atomic, no nuclear war, societal collapse city. Antefalken believed the current in vogue phrase was cyberpunk, but since he didn't know for sure what a cyber was, he wasn't sure if that was the accurate term
As he wandered down the streets he noted the typical street demons dressed in blue jeans and leather jackets. Naturally, most had holes cut out of the human apparel to accommodate assorted demonic appendages. While, he supposed that they tended to look rather intimidating to the outsider, from years of dealing with the courts, he knew that most were simply gutless sycophants, and court lackeys and hangers-on who had nothing better to do with their immortal existence than to play dress up games. Which was fine with Antefalken, to each his own. He, however, would rather spend his immortal existence in bed with a fair damsel, or even the good old standby, lusty wench.
As he wandered down the street, giant crumbling steel, glass and concrete buildings towering over him, Antefalken tried to wander in the direction of the town center. It wasn't always easy, as occasional burned out vehicles lined the streets and every now and then a car with a gang of street toughs would zoom by, trying to shoot him with lightning bolts or fire darts. Every few blocks he'd encounter a road block of some sort, either a collapsed building or toll trolls, and he'd have to detour on a side street. He wasn't in any particular hurry though. It was always kind of fun to meander down the streets.
The vast majority of the demon punks he encountered were class two. A few threes were mixed in, now and then, as well as a few class ones. The class ones, tended to avoid the courts. For one thing, most weren't powerful enough to handle the games that went on within the courts. The other reason was that many type one demons were essentially trapped full time in servitude, with very little free time.
Actually, many of the indentured demons tended to stay away from the courts. Most indentured demons were younger and less interested in playing games, even if highly deadly games. They just hadn't become bored enough with immortality to want to meddle in court intrigues. Now and then, Antefalken would spy a limousine zooming by carrying some important fourth order or maybe even a fifth. Those individuals played power games that left the petty jealousies of the lower demons in the dust.
Unfortunately, it was just those power games that Antefalken was walking into. If he wanted information, he'd have to go to the top. Or at least close to it. Fortunately, there didn't tend to be too many bardic demons running around, and thus Antefalken was held in fairly good esteem in the courts. By his own private admission, he wasn't the greatest of bards, not that he'd ever let anyone else know. However, by the standards of this court, he wasn't bad.
Eventually he reached the center of the city. The river Styx actually narrowed considerably and ran right through the center of the city. Since it did narrow so much, it moved incredibly fast. Often hapless individuals who fell in were carried completely out of the city before they could get out. While demons were largely immune to the effects of the Styx, it did tend to give them some short term forgetfulness for a year or two. On the opposite side of the river from Antefalken, on the far side of a large brown brick suspension bridge, stood the center of Demondom. The Palace of the Concordenax.
Currently and for the last two hundred years, the outside, at least, of the palace was modeled after some late medieval cathedral from some backwater plane. Due to the strange name of the cathedral, the cathedral's name had stuck, and for the last few centuries no one called it the Palace of the Concordenax, but rather by the cathedral's own name. Antefalken had never been a particularly religious man, but he thought that if he were, this would be the name of any cathedral he'd build, the Cathedral of the Notorious Dame.
Actually, Antefalken thought, as he walked across the long bridge towards Notorious Dame, that name was a lot better than Palace of the Concordenax. After all, it wasn't like anyone had actually seen the Concordenax in the last couple millennia. As far as anyone could tell, he'd taken a permanent vacation and g
one off to parts unknown. Thus it was that the Abyss was ruled in his stead by the Triumvirate.
The Triumvirate, now there was a nasty lot. Antefalken got nightmares every time he'd had to play before them. While they'd never taken any offense at his carefully guarded melodies, they'd never seemed much inspired either. Antefalken was more than happy to restrict his playing to Archdemons and Greater Demons when he was in need of demonic favors. Demon Princes were just a bit too powerful for his peace of mind.
Antefalken walked up the blood red stone path to the main doors of the cathedral. The two demonic guards at the doors simply continued to stare straight ahead as he approached. As usual, the centermost large doors opened of their own accord, allowing Antefalken to pass within to the most unhallowed halls in all the Abyss. Inside the main doors, the design of the cathedral departed widely from what Antefalken expected the original designers of Notorious Dame intended.
Inside the light level was three times as bright as what the outside's dingy stained glass windows could be expected to provide. Antefalken entered a long foyer that opened directly in to the main throne chamber of the Triumvirate. This particular chamber was only used for highest ceremonies and was large enough to squeeze several hundred demons or a thousand mortals in at one time. The chamber was all in brilliant white marble with heavy tracings of silver and gold adorning everything. The hall was originally designed, some said, to mimic the throne room of one of the greater gods of law and justice. Since its original conception, seven thousand years ago, the original intent had been forgotten by most. While the outside and most other rooms in the palace changed with time, and the city even more frequently, the throne room had remained constant. It was a symbol of the Triumvirate's unwavering rule, more powerful and longer lasting than any mortal ruler could ever dream.
