The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (22 page)

“As you advise, Your Holiness!” Danyel smiled at her as he reached for the orange juice.

“You don’t need to call me that. I’m just Hilda here in our rooms.” She shook her head and smiled. “If you wish, among the wizards you may call me mistress, since you are pretending to be my valet.”

~

Tom sat back in his chair as they all paused for a bit. They had spent the last who knew how long discussing the insane wizard’s proposal. Oddly, Talarius seemed to be feeling better, or at least slightly more talkative after discussing Orcus and Etterdam. He supposed that hearing demons admit to the defeat of one of their own at the hand of one of his own gave him more self-confidence. It was as if the knight had needed that.

Talarius, naturally, felt that Vaselle deserved to burn in the Abyss for even thinking of offering himself to a demon as a slave. Such a bargain was obviously unholy, a sin and abomination, thus requiring the person committing it to be sentenced to eternal damnation. Perversely, Tom thought, the knight did not seem to understand that that was exactly what Vaselle was asking for. The wizard had just volunteered his eternal soul to a demon, and for nothing in return. That seemed very odd.

Boggy, of course, was all for it. He loved the idea of turnabout, and Tom was sure he would love to tell other demons that he was friends with someone who had a warlock. Boggy seemed to be quite the gossip. Estrebrius was mainly pacing, worried about his master’s mental state. Tizzy was not saying much, just smoking on his pipe. Rupert was excited by the idea. He was a kid, after all; he probably thought it would be cool and in fact, had probably started plotting how to get one of his own. Admittedly, if Tom had been reading this in a book or playing a video game, he would have wanted to see the protagonist get himself a wizard slave. Seriously, who would not want a wizard slave?

It was just that things were a little more complex in reality, even as insane as it currently was. Vaselle was a real person, with hopes, dreams and feelings. Taking such a person and ‘enslaving’ him just seemed extremely wrong. In addition, the whole possession thing that Vaselle seemed to want was not something Tom felt that comfortable with. He had not spent a whole lot of time reliving or rethinking his experience on the battlefield. But when he did, it had all just been rather uncomfortable, too intimate. During the battle, if he had had the time or desire, he could have easily accessed those people’s memories, their thoughts and feelings. He had felt their fear, their adrenaline; he had even harnessed it and redirected it. Redirected the fear and hatred from himself to Talarius.

Such power was frightening. Tom had to admit that that was a big part of it. When he was possessing those men, he had felt rather splintered. He felt like he was a whole bunch of different people at the same time. He was not really himself, but more of an amalgam or something. He could not really describe it to himself in words. Nevertheless, it had been unsettling. Even as the subject of the possession lost themselves to the possessor, so the possessor lost a part of themselves. More precisely, Tom corrected himself, they opened themselves to the possessed, let the possessed in and made the possessed part of themselves.

The air in the cave suddenly shifted slightly and there was a loud
thunk
as Reggie suddenly appeared and fell to his knees.  “Holy fucking fuck!” the Incubus gasped.

Boggy rushed over to give Reggie a hand up. “Are you all right, lad? Were you beaten mercilessly by your master?”

Reggie chuckled with what seemed a large dose of irony. “Mistress. And well, yeah, there was a bit of whipping, but not the bad kind.”

“What kind of whipping is not the bad kind?” Rupert asked.

“The sexy kind.” Reggie shook his head as he stood up. Tom got up from his chair and offered it to Reggie. “I have never, ever dreamed of having that much sex in that short a time!”

“Sex?” Rupert asked, shocked.

“Shit man, the woman was insatiable. We were going at it continuously from the moment I got there, and I had to have shot my load thirty to forty times. I cannot believe it! I’m exhausted.”

“Sounds like hell,” Tizzy commented drily.

“It sort of was.” Reggie nodded. Antefalken chuckled.

“Seriously!” Boggy yelled. “Why can’t I get an accursed mistress like this? It simply is not fair!” The demon stormed around the room furiously, presumably for dramatic effect. “One bloody summons and he gets his brains screwed silly! It simply is not just!”

Talarius was shaking his head. “A wizardess summoned a demon to use as a sex toy? Clearly, Astlan has fallen into the hands of sin and debauchery. Wizards are a pox on humanity!”

“Okay, finally! That’s something we can agree on!” Tizzy smiled and tried to pat the knight on the shoulder, but Talarius dodged out of the way, frowning through his visor. Tizzy just shook his head in mild annoyance. “Just trying to be nice! See what it gets me?” He took a big puff of his pipe.

Estrebrius was frowning as well. “It really does not seem fair. I hope she’s ugly.”

Reggie chuckled. “Not at all. My chocolate mistress is gorgeous with junk in all the right places . She is totally fine!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… like huckleberry wine. Yes, we get it. You got yourself a hot accursed mistress who tortures you with endless sex. Boo hoo!” Boggy said, harrumphing and crossing his arms in front of him.

Antefalken chuckled. “Well, actually, the prolonged bonking is actually part of the bonding process for an incubus. So she was not doing it just for pleasure; it was also binding Reggie much closer to his mistress. Am I not right, Reggie?”

“Uhm, yeah,” Reggie stuttered, nearly forgetting that Antefalken did not realize he and Tom were recent arrivals in the Abyss. Tom nodded at him in approval. He still needed to explain things better to Reggie so he did not screw anything up. The lies were starting to get tricky; he was afraid they were only going to get worse.

[Druids and Shamans]

“Holy…” Gastropé breathed out, staring at the naked women surrounding them. Jenn closed her eyes tightly as they accidentally drifted across the hairy crotch of one of the brown, wingless demons. Satyrs—she knew they were satyrs, she had read about them and Trisfelt had told her stories about his travels among them—but they looked so much like wingless demons!

“So!” Trevin said loudly, drawing the group’s attention back to her. Opening her eyes, she noted that even Maelen was forcing his gaze to return to Trevin from the nymphs. “Welcome to the Grove!” A cheer rose up, followed by shouts of welcome and cheers from the assembled forest dwellers. Jenn nodded politely and tried very hard not to look at all the naked individuals.

“We will be spending the day here resting up, bathing and getting ready for launch shortly after fierdrise tomorrow. It’s timed with first tide, interestingly enough.” Trevin chuckled. “So I’m afraid that means we’ll be taking the skiffs at a very early hour, or perhaps very late hour depending on your nocturnal plans!” She winked at Maelen.

“On that note”—here she looked each of the outsiders in the eyes—“you may be aware that people here are extremely friendly, and even more curious. They love new experiences, new friends, etcetera. Thus you are all likely to receive invitations for fun and games.” Cheers rose from the local denizens. “Do not feel pressured into accepting; a polite ‘no thanks’ will always be respected, if grudgingly by some.” She glared at an older satyr standing nearby, who suddenly looked at the ground.

“But if you do accept, you need not fear the normal consequences.” Trevin smiled brightly. “Gentlemen, in case you were not aware, nymphs and dryads only get pregnant when they desire it, and the other ladies have their own precautions.”

Trevin smiled at Jenn, looking directly at her. “And while, yes, it is true that satyrs can breed with nearly every living species everywhere, it generally takes quite a bit of effort to prepare the host.” She paused for a moment as if thinking. “Typically for a human female, you’d need to have intercourse at least two dozen, if not three dozen times. So do not worry about a few rounds! Given the time we have, I doubt there’ll be time for more than a dozen attempts.” She smiled at Jenn, who found herself blushing furiously and somewhat angrily.

Trevin turned and smiled even wider at Gastropé. “It takes almost twice as much to prepare a male host, so feel free to have at it!” Gastropé blanched and adjusted his turban nervously. Trevin spun. “I have to go make a few arrangements. Allow the welcome committee to show you to a breakfast buffet and some bathing ponds so you can freshen up. We shall reconvene at lunch!” The enchantress waved and strode off quickly, disappearing into the throng of nymphs and satyrs.

~

Barabus entered the command tent where Iskerus was eating a late breakfast, presumably having tried to get a little sleep in himself. “Rested?” Barabus asked the Arch-Diocate.

“No,” Iskerus said rather irately—unusual for him. “Ruiden woke me this morning with a demand to watch the balling.”

“He was there! What does he need the balling for?” Barabus asked, puzzled.

“I have no idea. I did not ask. I am running at near capacity. I have been running back and forth between Oorstemoth and High Chamberlain Mericas in Justicia. I have finally gotten him to send church lawyers to work directly with these crazy people. Then, trying to provide hope and guidance to those who have been shaken, not to mention worrying myself as to why no Host has appeared to interrogate us as to this rather huge screw-up…” Iskerus was definitely looking frayed.

Iskerus looked at Barabus. “I need you to deal with the dagger and maybe work on some recommendations as to what to do with the priests who were possessed, along the lines of what you are doing for Rod members.”

Barabus nodded. “Not a problem.”

A knock came on the tent pole.

“Yes?” Barabus said, turning to the doorway.

“Sirs?” A Rod member stuck his head in. “I have the High Chaplain of Freehold here, along with another… gentleman.”

Iskerus sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Very well, show them in.”

The Rod member held the tent flap aside and in came the High Chaplain of Freehold, a man whose name Barabus could not recall. They had never met, but he had been told the man’s name in a briefing. Following the high chaplain was another man, a beggar—a very rank and gamy smelling beggar. Barabus backed up; the beggar appeared to be more a collection of festering wounds than a man.

The high chaplain bowed deeply to Iskerus and said, “Your Holiness.”

Iskerus nodded and gestured for him to arise.

“How may I help you, Uripes? Can I get a healer for your friend?” Iskerus asked.

The beggar seemed to take offense at this suggestion but before he could say anything, the high chaplain put a calming hand on the man’s forearm, which was luckily clothed in a very dirty robe.

“Actually, Your Holiness, I am afraid that is precisely the problem. This is Delapodos, our city’s beggar meister.” Iskerus nodded in greeting to the man. “It seems a high priestess of yours has been roaming the city healing beggars and depriving them of their livelihoods.”

“I would highly doubt that. The city is still under wards and I have not given permission to any of our people to enter it,” Iskerus said.

“Well, someone healed Rathbert up. Cured his blindness, got rid of his snotlung, all his boils and various other ailments, and claimed to do it in the name of Tiernon!” The beggar meister retorted angrily.

Barabus frowned. “Exactly how long did he lie there for this healer to do all of this? Could he not have escaped?”

Delapados looked at him suspiciously. “She just grabbed him while he stood there. It took but a few moments and he was all healed! He had no time to run; she was holding his hands mighty tight!”

“He was fully blind? Had snotlung, boils like your own?” Iskerus paused and Delapodos nodded. “And she cured all of this within moments from simply grasping his hands?”

“That’s what I said,” the beggar meister retorted, apparently angry that they did not seem to believe him.

Iskerus glanced at Barabus, who shrugged. “Well, I thank you both for reporting this! None of our people were authorized to be in the city; however, we shall certainly investigate.”

“What about reparations? He lost his livelihood! You need to order that priestess to put him back the way he was!” Delapodos demanded.

Iskerus grimaced. “I am afraid ‘putting him back’ is not something we can do. All of our priests and priestesses are sworn not to harm or cause disease. As far as other reparations: as I’ve said, we will investigate and get back to the high chaplain.”

“That’s not enough! She needs to make amends,” Delapodos demanded.

“We will work on that.” Iskerus was trying to get rid of the beggar. “High Chaplain, take down a description of the priestess from Master Delapodos and get it to me as soon as possible.”

The high chaplain nodded and began trying to drag the beggar meister from the tent. The man did not want to go and was most upset.

“Trust us, Master Delapodos, we shall get to the bottom of this and justice shall be done!” Barabus said as he closed the tent flap behind the high chaplain and the beggar meister.

They waited in silence for the two get out of hearing range. Given the loud complaints of the beggar meister, this was not hard to judge. Once they left, Barabus asked, “So do you have a high priestess who can heal that fast?”

Iskerus snorted. “Not likely. I could not heal someone with that man’s issues that fast. Disease is far more pernicious and harder to root out than simple flesh wounds.”

“So who is this woman?” Barabus asked.

Iskerus shrugged. “I have no idea who, or even what profession could heal that fast.”

“And would do so in the name of Tiernon,” Barabus added.

Iskerus sighed. “Only an avatar could heal that fast.”

“So you think there is an avatar of Tiernon in Freehold?” Barabus asked.

“Why would an avatar of Tiernon be in there?” Iskerus pointed to the warded city. “We are out here! Any avatar would come to speak with us first. Plus, no demons can get into that city; how would an avatar get in?”

“Then what?” Barabus asked.

“I have no idea. I may have just reached my limit,” Iskerus stated sadly before finishing his tea.

~

Elraith Castegones took his seat in the central kiva. His bones ached; he was getting way too old for these duties. He had been awakened from meditation by Trevin but a few days ago and was still groggy and perhaps a bit cranky. One did not come out of three years of deep meditation and harmony easily, not at his age. The ramps down into the kiva groaned as Taergon Thunderhoof made his way down the wooden incline. The representative of the centaurs was large, and like most centaurs, claustrophobic and hated the kiva.

Taergon took up his position near the eastern edge and slowly knelt down on all fours. Uncomfortable, yes, but better than being bent over. As Elraith watched his friend take his seat, he smelled Satyricus walking down the ramp. Not that it was a bad smell, far from it, but it was a very strong and nearly intoxicating musk. The high priest of the god Pan nodded to Taergon and Elraith.

Daphne and Chloe, as usual, came bounding down the ramp with great energy. Elraith shook his head slightly at their energy; those two were older than he, yet the nymph and dryad elders had their eternally youthful energy to propel them.

Elraith felt an odd disturbance to his right and turned his head slightly to see that Ariel ap Auberon had taken his place. Even after all these years of knowing them, the highest of the alvaren could arrive and depart with barely his notice. Elraith nodded to the alvaren prince, it had been at least four years since they had seen each other; barely a moment in an elf’s life, yet still some time for Elraith. By the creaking of the ramp and the slight, barely noticeable motion of Ariel’s eyelid, Elraith surmised that Duranor had arrived. Elraith turned his head to nod at the Grove’s Geomancer. Duranor nodded back, but naturally ignored Ariel’s presence.

After all his years, Elraith still marveled at the ability of the Los Alfar and the Modgriensofarthgonosefren to hold grudges. Grudge after grudge, dimension after dimension, and century after century. It was actually rather ridiculous and beneath both races if you asked Elraith, which none of them ever did.

This grudge is what he and Trevin sought to keep under control. The Grove depended on harmonious relations between the various races. A war between the alvar and any of the jötnar races would be tense at best; if Hephaestus himself was involved, then the Modgriensofarthgonosefren could easily become directly involved.

As Duranor took his seat, Elraith felt the air of the dark and rather damp kiva lighten. A feeling of tranquility and safety filled the room as the most gorgeous woman Elraith had ever met entered the kiva. He had no idea how old she was, but her appearance—and as far as his powers could discern, her reality—was that of an extremely well-endowed twenty-something human. A woman who could put nymphs to shame, and if one did not believe that, one only needed to see the glances that Daphne and Chloe gave the enchantress as she entered.

Ariel rose and took her hand to bestow a kiss on it, gallant as ever. Duranor simply shrugged at the alfar’s actions. Satyricus saluted her in a typical satyr manner and gave her a very lascivious leer. Taergon nearly matched the satyr’s leer as he shifted uncomfortably, clearly adjusting his hindquarters.

Trevin smiled as Ariel released her hand, turning her magnificent gaze to Elraith. Trevin somehow bowed and curtsied to him at the same time. “My Lord Castigones, thank you for breaking your meditation; we are truly honored by your presence.

Elraith chuckled. “My dear, you get more charming by the decade.”

“As do you, My Lord!” She smiled seductively at him.

“Nice try, my dear, but I fear at my age there is little wood left in the tree.” Elraith smiled at her, enjoying the sparkle in her eye. Perhaps no wood, but certainly a small spark remained within his heart. “Sit, and let us speak of these issues that have summoned us. It’s been years since all of us have gathered in person.”

Trevin took her seat, a small wooden armchair much like Ariel’s and Duranor’s. “Bad tidings. I have brought with me a seer and sorcerer who both have had dire visions that seem to be coming to pass. Freehold was overrun by a horde of demons, at least three archdemons were in residence, undetected, and now Oorstemoth and the Rod surround the city.”

Ariel frowned. “Clearly a problem for Freehold, but what matters this to us?”

Trevin smiled. “That, My Lord Ariel, is but the appetizer. I have here”—in Trevin’s hand a crystal ball seemed to simply appear—“a copy of a balling made by Oorstemoth of events that transpired when the Council evicted the demon horde from the city. I think you need to watch it, and then we shall dive deeper into what we must discuss. Our past inactions may be coming back to haunt us.”

“Great. I love it when that happens,” Duranor groused.

“No, you love scolding us when we don’t heed your call to action.” Satyricus chuckled.

~

Tom flew over the mountain range near his cave. He needed to get out and stretch his wings. He also needed to get away from the incessant discussions in the cave. By this point, all the arguments were going in circles and none of them were giving him any better idea of what to do.