The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (27 page)

Antefalken nodded. “That is a common one, but a familiar can be any animal, and sometimes even an imp or other small demon.”

“But I’m guessing you don’t know the familiar spell?” Tom asked.

Antefalken held his hands open in front of him. “Sorry. I’m a bard, not a wizard. I can read some runes and do a few small tricks to entertain people, but wizardry is not one of my skills.”

“You don’t suppose I can get him to cast a familiar binding spell on himself, do you?” Tom asked jokingly.

Antefalken looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know, there might be some logic in that.”

Tom shook his head. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it. He is subjecting himself to your will, giving himself up to be your warlock. It seems only fitting that he should be the one who does the binding, so that there is no question of his doing it of his own free will. It is an unusual sort of thing, but you can also frame it as a test for him. Have him do this; it will test his resolve to see if he is serious. He would probably have to go away and figure out how to do it; this would give him plenty of time to reconsider his actions. You could also make it clear that there will be no punishment if he changes his mind.”

Tom thought for a moment. That did make a lot of sense. The wizard would have to be really committed to wanting to do this. He would need to do the act of binding himself; he would thus be forced to feel the pressure of what he was doing and maybe rethink things. It would make the man’s decision and Tom’s acceptance of the bargain much more real.

“I think you are right. It would also make me feel better about this. He would have to really want to do it, and this would give him a way out.” Tom nodded his head, liking this decision a lot better.

~

DOF +2

Night 15-19-440

Hilda helped Danyel get into bed; the poor lad was extremely deep in his cups, as they used to say. She smiled as she tucked the lad in. When they had arrived he had been led off to join the servants for dinner, and apparently, they were celebrating as well.

The evening had been quite taxing; she had really had to play the part. Lenamare and Jehenna were truly a handful, but the information had been quite worthwhile. She wished she understood wizardry better so she could have gotten a better handle on the wards; but hopefully she would be able to recall enough details to be useful.

She had gotten Lenamare and Jehenna’s side of the story about what happened at the school, and the summoning of the demon that eventually captured Talarius. A very odd story, yet while she had had to work to sift out Lenamare’s braggadocio, she was fairly certain that the base story was correct. It corroborated with what Trisfelt had said and he had not significantly objected to Lenamare’s telling, other than the occasional rolled eye or raised eyebrow.

She still had no clear idea of why Exador had decided to lay siege to the school; they were keeping that a secret. She did not buy the story of professional jealousy, unless this Exador was an even bigger egomaniac than Lenamare, which would be a feat.

This business about Exador and the two others on the flying carpet was quite interesting. Ramses the Damned? Obviously, she had heard about him and the Time Warriors, but they were well before her time, and had proved more problematic on Norelon than Eton. Nonetheless, his reputation was enough to make anyone nervous. As to this suspicion that the third was some defunct goddess? Hilda shrugged as she made her way to the bathroom to prepare her evening soak. Well, she would run it by the archons, but it seemed far more likely that it was just another archdemon that looked similar.

Hilda did not know much about the Nyjyr Ennead, other than they were a pagan religion that had been evicted from Astlan, as well as Etterdam and other surrounding planes. It just seemed inconceivable that any deity, no matter how down on their luck, would sink to slumming with demons, let alone pretend to be a simple archdemon. Pagan deities had even bigger egos than Lenamare; that was what made them and their avatars so difficult to deal with.

DOF +3

Morning

Gastropé tried to carefully untangle himself from Ashea and Eshea, the two nymph sisters who had fallen asleep on top of him last night. As he stumbled out of the sleeping alcove, he fumbled with adjusting his clothes. He really wished he remembered more of last night. He gave the buxom, nude young women in his bed another look in the dim light of the fairy globe that had been lit by the youthful-looking alfar who had awoken him. He really, truly, wished he remembered more.  Amazingly, his head did not hurt as much as he would have expected, given his lack of concrete memories of the night before.

He managed to get his turban in place and tied up his backpack. Fortunately, Trevin had suggested he pack it before the feast so he would not have to deal with it this morning. Gastropé was thankful she knew what she was talking about. It was excessively early in the morning to be thinking about packing, not after last night’s bacchanalia. Bacchanalia: that had been a new word for him. It was the word the people of the Grove used to describe feasts like last night. Apparently tied to one of the gods of the Grove. Gastropé grinned to himself. If that was a religious feast, he might need to consider getting a bit more religious.

He put his pack on and headed out through the curtains closing off his chamber and made his way to the small glade where Trevin had said they would meet. As he entered the glade, Trevin was just lifting a large kettle off a campfire grill. There was an enticing smell coming from the kettle. Maelen was sitting on bench next to a table, quietly eating some melon. Elrose and Jen had yet to arrive.

“Good morning!” Trevin smiled as she turned to face Gastropé. She was in a different colored outfit today: principally red silk, but still every bit as age inappropriate as her other clothes. “I just took the coffee off the fire.”

“Coffee?” Gastropé asked. He was not familiar with it.

“Yes, it’s made from the ground-up pit of a fruit similar to a cherry. They look like little half beans, so people often call the coffee beans, although they are really just seeds.” Trevin poured a good-sized cup from her kettle and offered it to Gastropé. “You might want to put a bit of milk, honey, or both in it to taste.” She gestured toward the table where there was pitcher of milk and a jar of honey.

“Ahh! Do I smell coffee?” Elrose boomed from the edge of the clearing as he came towards them. “It has been years since I’ve had a good cup of coffee. Very hard to get in Norelon.” He walked over to Trevin, who was in the process of pouring him a cup.

Gastropé took a sip. “Huh…” He made a face. It was hot and bitter. Honey would be good; he made his way to the table. Maybe some milk too. Maelen smiled at him.

“How are you this morning?” Maelen asked.

Gastropé grimaced slightly then said, “Amazingly, not as bad as I think I should feel.” Maelen chuckled. Gastropé took a drink of his adulterated coffee. Much better; surprisingly good, in fact. A loud shuffling noise came from the edge of the clearing; Jenn was coming in backward, dragging a very large sack.

“It looks like someone’s been shopping!” Trevin chuckled.

Jenn looked over her shoulder and grinned. “This place is amazing! I hope this doesn’t look as bad as I’m now realizing it probably does…”

Trevin chuckled. “Not at all, dear. We’ve had thaumaturgists here before; we are used to them going a little bit bonkers with their collecting things.” She tugged Jenn. “Come, place that here, along with all your backpacks. The aetós will put them on the cargo carpet.”

As people moved to pile their belongings, Maelen asked Trevin, “So, we are going by carpet?”

Trevin shook her head. “No, no, the carpets will just take us to the Nimbus. No way am I going to be cooped up on a carpet for thousands of leagues.”

“So the Nimbus is a ship?” Jenn asked.

Trevin rocked her head from side to side in a sort of yes-or-no way. “You can call it that—we do. You’ll see soon enough.”

“The Grove is landlocked. Is it an airship, like the Oorstemothians have?” Elrose asked.

Trevin shook her head. “No, no, nothing so primitive. I do not want to spoil the surprise. Come now, sit down and have some breakfast and coffee. Although if you have trouble with air sickness, I advise eating lightly.”

After finishing their breakfast, the group followed Trevin down to a larger clearing near a lake. On the shores of the lake were half a dozen large carpets. Two of them were piled high with baggage that had been tarped down tightly. Gastropé assumed this is where their packs had gone. Their group of aetós was standing nearby talking amongst themselves. There were a few other groups on the shores as well.

“Alright, time to meet people,” Trevin said. “You already know Hethfar, Danfaêr, Treyfoêr, Lythdaér, Raêfaér and Foéren.” She gestured to the six aetós. “This is Gnorbert,” she said, gesturing to a young-looking gnome coming up beside her. “He’s the Nimbus’s chief engineer.” Although
young
was an odd term for any gnome; they all looked old by human standards.

“Hulloo!” Gnorbert said.

“You met his father yesterday, Gnorman,” Trevin said. “Standing behind him is his apprentice, Gnermin.” A smallish, apparently shy gnome peeked out from behind Gnorbert and waved hello at them.

A very tall, thin alfar with long, brilliantly white hair walked up behind Gnorbert. He was dressed in a rather ornate long coat with a frilly mauve shirt underneath.

Trevin turned towards the alfar and smiled. “This is our guide, Chief Navigator Bealach.” The alfar—Gastropé guessed he was a nuren alfar, or mountain alfar—bowed to them and nodded politely.

Trevin gestured to a group of six dwarves laughing and joking about thirty feet away. “Cumberlin, Darowin, Farswath, Molche, Tevyn and Carnwath are over there, you’ll have time to get to meet them on the Nimbus, particularly if you play cards.” Trevin grinned. “They are my personal ground detail, even as the ae
t
ós are my personal aerial detail.”

“You see over there”—she pointed to one of the four rugs—“Tibault, our procurer.” That seemed like an odd title for the short, barefoot fellow, Gastropé thought to himself. And why was he barefoot on this rocky shore? Yes, he had disproportionately large feet but… oh. Gastropé finally realized that Tibault was a hearthean.
Never mind
, he thought, shaking his head and laughing at himself. “Procurer” made a lot more sense now.

Trevin was continuing, “Maude is our ship’s healer. I am sure the two of you will have a lot to talk about.” Trevin smiled at Maelen, who nodded back. “Beside her is Alicia, our combat aeromancer.” Trevin looked around, and suddenly pointed a short distance away, where a young human lad appeared to be relieving himself near the forest. “That’s Peter, one of our combat pilots.” Combat pilot? Gastropé wondered.

“There at the final passenger carpet is Trolg.” Trevin gestured to a rather ugly green fellow in leather armor. Was he an orc? Gastropé wondered. That would be rather odd. “Sylenea, who is inspecting the rug right now”—Trevin obviously meant the alfar woman inspecting the edges of the rug—“is another of our combat pilots. That is Tereth sneaking up behind her, unwisely.” Trevin chuckled as the short, brown-haired forest alfar made his way quietly up to Sylenea. “He is a combat geomancer.”

Gastropé shook his head. He had never heard of a combat geomancer; that did not make much sense. Unless maybe you were laying siege to a castle?

“Abbey, who has just pointed Tereth out to Sylenea, is our aquamaster.”

“Aquamaster?” Maelen asked. “So an animage rather than a wizard?” Trevin smiled and nodded. “I’ve never met an aquamaster; I will have to compare some notes with her, most certainly.” Maelen seemed much more interested in this person than any of the others.

Gastropé grinned to himself. He was pretty sure that in Maelen’s case it was the desire to compare notes and learn new information, and not the young lady’s very nice form that had the animage interested.

“Securing the cargo carpets are Marin and Faelen.” Trevin gestured to two other forial alvar who were busy making sure the cargo was stored and secured.

Trevin began looking around the lake, apparently searching for missing people. As she did, a loud huffing noise came from the clearing entrance they had came through. Coming down the path towards them was another hearthean, this one with a backpack twice his height. “Sorry I’m late, so sorry, just had to get a few last minute supplies!” the hearthean huffed as he came up to them.

Trevin shook her in mock disapproval. “Everyone, this is Bernaud, the Nimbus’s galley master.”

“Hello, hello, glad you’re all coming aboard!” Bernaud huffed, still out of breath as he gave a brief salute to each of them.

“You do know they’ve already tarped the cargo carpets?” Trevin asked.

“Hurry, hurry, why is everyone always in such a hurry!” Bernaud shook his head in exasperation. “If the peaberry soup is bland tonight, you’ll wish you hadn’t hurried so much, I can tell you that!” Bernaud marched off towards the carpet with Sylenea on it. “I’ll just strap it down next to me. Won’t be the first time everyone was in a rush…”

Trevin shook her head in amusement at the hearthean. Suddenly a second mountain alfar appeared beside her. Gastropé had not seen him approach. “Area is secure, ma’am,” the alfar said softly. “We are clear for liftoff.”

Trevin smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Seamach.” She looked to the rest of the immediate party. “This is Seamach, our scout and Bealach’s closest confidant. Between the two of them, we always know where we are and what, or who, is nearby.” The nuren alfar gave them a nod and then hurried over to the carpet with Beranud.

“Everyone!” Trevin called out to those around the lake. “It is time—saddle up!” Everyone cheered and Trevin turned back to their group and motioned them towards the closest carpet. “Gnorbert is in front as the pilot, I’m taking the rear as backup. You four in the middle as you like.”

“What’s with all the ropes?” Jenn asked as they approached the large carpet. It was an extremely unusual carpet; most carpets were simply large, flat rugs with some sort of pattern. One just sat or stood wherever one pleased. This one, on the other hand, had seats, or rather pillows in six positions. Those pillows seemed to be woven into the carpet along with a series of ropes, loops and pockets.

As Gnorbert sat down and started moving the ropes around him, Gastropé realized the ropes were really harnesses to keep one locked onto the carpet. That was very strange; normally carpets had their own magical field that kept people stable on the carpet, and you did not need straps to hold on.

Trevin smiled and answered Jenn’s question. “These are combat carpets. We do not have the normal stabilization spells on them that consumer-grade carpets use. Obviously we do have some, but not to the point that they interfere with maneuverability. Combat carpets have to be very agile and so we have harnesses and handholds for people to hang on to.” Trevin chuckled. “You will also notice a number of pockets and tie loops in front of each position. These pockets are for material components, wands and other paraphernalia that the occupants might need during battle.”

“You mean wizards are strapped to this thing casting spells and blasting lightning bolts?” Gastropé asked in wonder.

“Exactly!” She shrugged. “Casting from a carpet isn’t that uncommon, but in those cases the carpet is being used more as a floating platform. In this case, we are diving in, striking and then pulling out fast.”

“And this is a common occurrence?” Maelen asked with concern in his voice as he tried to figure out the harness.

“In Astlan? Not since the days of the Anilords, with some of the other adjacent planes, on occasion. In particular, some jötunn tribes can be problematic.” She paused. “Here, let me help you with that.” She came over and helped Maelen adjust his harness; she then went around and ensured everyone was secure.

Trevin sat down in the rear seat and fastened her harness. “Very well, Gnorbert. Take us away!”

Gnorbert waved his right hand in acknowledgement and then made some gestures in front of himself. Suddenly the carpet was rising in the air, straight up, very fast.

“So, where are we headed? Where is the Nimbus?” Elrose asked Trevin. Gastropé and Jenn twisted in their seats to look back at Trevin.

She pointed up and grinned. “Straight up.”

They looked up into the grey predawn light. The sky over the Grove was generally clear, with the stars fading as the morning began to light the sky. There was only a single large cloud hovering directly over the lake. Thinking about it now, Gastropé realized the weather had been essentially identical yesterday. Clear skies except for the one cloud right over the lake. The Grove must have very odd weather patterns, what with the giant mountains; maybe the cloud did not have much of anywhere to go.

“Straight up?” Jenn asked. “So the Nimbus is up above the cloud?” That would be a very high-flying ship, Gastropé thought to himself.

Trevin simply grinned and flashed her eyebrows mischievously. “Not exactly,” was all she said.

As the light grew with the dawn, Gastropé suddenly realized that the aetós were not on any of the four carpets; they were flying on their own. He had never seen an aetóên in flight before. Since flying straight up would be quite taxing, the aetós were circling the carpets at about a forty-foot radius, spiraling upward.