The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (58 page)

Ragala-nargoloth grabbed a fistful of Tikaraok powder as she moved to a meditation position. She quickly snorted the powder and centered herself, looking with her Sight into the talisman. “Bloody fragging Bilestone’s bones!” she shouted as she felt herself almost forcibly pulled into dream space.

Ragala-nargoloth blinked as the world shifted around her. Suddenly she found herself not in her tent but in some sort of stone temple between two columns. Instead of the small stone talisman, there was a bright silver talisman in her lap that she, or rather her dream self was clutching. Her head was reeling and she felt incredibly disoriented.

She looked around the room to see several very odd-looking orcs with wings and hooves. D’Orcs? They could not be; D’Orcs were long gone from the localverse. As she eyed the apparent impossibilities, she suddenly recognized one from a stone painting in one of the tribe’s holy sites.

“Arg-nargoloth?” Ragala-nargoloth breathed in disbelief. The greatest warrior in her family’s bloodline—the most revered of all her ancestors?

“Hah!” the vision of Arg-nargoloth roared in triumph. “My name lives on, my blood survives! Name yourself, shaman!”

“I—I am Ragala-nargoloth, First Shaman of the Nart Tribe,” she said in shock.

Arg-nargoloth nodded in obvious satisfaction. “When we have more time, you must recite your lineage to me so that I may know of my heirs and of their triumphs!” He was chuckling with nearly unbridled joy, it seemed.

Ragala-nargoloth noticed someone rising behind Arg-nargoloth. This someone was very large, and not a D’Orc. As the being moved into view, she saw a giant mace, a rod, a wand swinging at his belt. She felt her blood go cold, or was it hot? She had no idea. No one remembered what Orcus looked like, other than that he was different, not a D’Orc, and that he had possessed a giant mace, the Wand of Orcus. This mace, with its metal head that looked identical to the demon lord’s own head, could only be the Wand of Orcus.

Ragala-nargoloth quickly abased herself before the demon lord. “My Lord and master, as the prophecy of Tiss-Arog-Dal has foretold, you have returned!”

“Greetings, Ragala-nargoloth, heir to the blood of Arg-nargoloth. You are welcome in the Temple of Doom.” The demon lord pulled his mighty mace from his belt. “I am Tommus, the new Lord of Mount Doom, and I am preparing to accept the oaths of the D’Orcs. We have work to do, now and going forward. Are you willing to assist me?”

Ragala-nargoloth was in shock, which was not something she had ever experienced before. She actually thought “shock” was a weakness of non-orcs, but what she was feeling now could be nothing else. She nodded her head and whispered, “Yes, master.” She could not even look the mighty demon lord in the eye at this point.

“Are you ready to be bound to my service?” The mighty demon lord, heir to Orcus asked.

Ragala-nargoloth gulped. “I am, My Lord.”

The head of the mace moved towards her head. “Grasp the mace and prepare to repeat after me.”

Ragala-nargoloth tentatively raised her left hand and reached out towards the head of the mace and to her new future.

~

DOF +7

Second Period 16-04-440

Tom checked the runes controlling night and day within the mountains. He had discovered they worked pretty well as a clock. It would be dawn before long. They had managed to contact three more shamans beyond Tal Gor and Ragala-nargoloth: Beya Fei Geist of the Olafa Horde of Ithgar, Farsooth GoreTusk of the Rockgut Horde on Romdan, and Leftenant Trig Bioblast of the Oak Clan and Second Shaman of the OCSS Skull Crusher in Gormegast.

Leftenant Trig Bioblast caused the most confusion among his commanders, Tom had noted. The shaman had made several technology references that went right over the heads of the D’Orcs present. Tom was at least familiar with science fiction versions of the things Trig had mentioned. He was definitely going to want to visit Gormegast as well as Visteroth, if they made contact with it. He wanted to see a world where technology and magic worked side by side. It seemed extremely implausible, but then at this point he was not in a position to define possible and impossible.

“Zelda, you mentioned wanting to get the first party out with dawn?” Tom asked the steward.

She nodded. “I think it’s going to take us a few days to gather enough game and butcher it. Hezbarg and his team have been cleaning up the kitchens. They told me that power has reached the freezers, so we should be able to store our game.”

Tom nodded. Yesterday morning Boggy had asked him to make sure the freezers’ runes got activated. He had been surprised that the mountains had several large kitchens with cold storage. Apparently, Orcus had been known for throwing parties. In fact, the party they were planning used to be normal for major events. He had suggested that they might make these hunting expeditions routine. To his surprise, Vargg had later mentioned that in the old days, the D’Orcs used to stage hunting expeditions with the various tribes, clans and hordes that had paid homage to Orcus.

Tom found himself a bit disturbed to find that several of his suggestions had been routine operations under Orcus. It was more than just a bit disconcerting. He knew for an undeniable fact that he was not Orcus reincarnated. For one thing, he knew firsthand what that dagger did. If everyone said it had killed Orcus, then it had utterly killed Orcus and destroyed his soul. While not an expert on reincarnation, it seemed logical to believe that one needed some sort of soul to actually reincarnate into a new body.

Tom shuddered, thinking about Orcus’s fate. Of course, to be fair, that was what true death was. Therefore, the ritual the Rod had been preparing for all of them would have done the same. That seemed an unbelievably evil thing to do to someone. Of course, back in Jersey, he had not really believed in any sort of afterlife, so why did a true death seem so much more horrible now?

The answer, Tom reflected, was that now he knew that there was, at least for believers, the chance for life after death. Antefalken had stated unequivocally, and the others had all agreed that if Talarius died in the Planes of Orcs/Planes of Men, that he would go to Tierhallon to be with his god. Others had said similar things. That was the thing: heaven and hell were real. Maybe not what his grandparents believed, but there was something. There was also the possibility of nothing. That was what made the difference. Gods were real, and of course; so were demons.

“As I recall, Astlan time in Jötunngard and Doom Time were pretty close,” Arg-nargoloth said. “Etterdam and the lands of the Nart were about a period or so behind. I am not sure of the others.”

Roth Tar Gorefest nodded. “While obviously I am anxious to return to the hunting grounds of Romdan, I do think we should go in order of shaman. Thus, we first send a band to Astlan, followed by one to Etterdam with its dawn. We move on to the others tomorrow.”

Vargg nodded. “We will need the time to process the kills in the kitchens. Everyone is out of practice.”

“Some of us have never gotten to practice,” Zelda noted somewhat bitterly.

“The price of being fourth generation.” Darg-Krallnom laughed, slapping her on the back.

The thought of Zelda being fourth generation D’Orc, born in the Abyss as many of the younger D’Orcs were, made Tom suddenly realize that something was fishy. Demons were immortal, so how did they age? He had just assumed that Rupert had aged because he was half-human, yet clearly he was every bit as powerful, every bit as much a real demon as any first, second or third-order demon. Except, Tom suddenly realized, Rupert stopped aging when he started to show signs of being a demon. He had shape-changed into his younger self and stayed that way. Everyone thought he was younger than he actually was.

Tom shook his head; this did not make a lot of sense. He needed to sort this out, probably with Antefalken or someone else who understood demon physiology.
Clearly not Tizzy, though.
However, this was not the time; they had a hunting trip to plan.

~

Bess took a sip of Denubian Choco-Coffee
TM
and sighed. “Complications, complications.”

Astet chuckled. “Who was it that liked to warn everyone about how lies and deceptions end up entangling one more than chains and ropes?” Astet was drinking iced tea, which she had to work to keep cool in her hand as they were sitting in a rooftop “garden” in the outpost. The plants that would grow in the Abyss were extremely odd plants.

As a goddess associated with Air, she had no problem summoning a nice breeze, but all the air in this quite literally god-forsaken hellhole was insufferably hot. One reason she did not come down here that much. Upon reflection, she supposed the very existence of the outpost meant the place was not completely god-forsaken, but it was still a hellhole.

Bess chuckled. “Yes, it was me.” She shook her head. “Those stupid Oorstemothians! Who would expect them to record the whole thing? And capture us on the carpet?”

“Times, they are a changing.” Astet shook her head. “When we were in Astlan officially, such wizardry did not exist yet.”

“I know; it’s one of the things so many of us prefer about the magic-based worlds over the tech worlds. If there is no visual or audio recording of an event, it’s a lot easier to tell one group one thing, and another group something else,” Bess said with a smile. She had always been big on being up front wherever possible with people. Which is what made her current situation so ironic.

“Takes some of the fun out of godhood, doesn’t it? You lose plausible deniability for mysterious actions and such,” Astet remarked before taking another sip of her super-chilled iced tea.

“It does sort of put a damper on ‘working in mysterious ways,’ ” Bess agreed.

“So,” Astet said, “now you have to pretend to be a mortal wizard in Freehold?”

“It’s looking that way.” Bess shook her head. “Exador wants us all to show up and demonstrate our humanity.”

“And how do you do that?” Astet asked.

Bess shrugged. “I have no idea what Exador plans. Perhaps have them put the wards back up?”

“But didn’t that cause you all flee the city?”

Bess chuckled. “It caused
them
to flee the city, and it did rattle my sinuses, making me feel quite twitchy, along with a nasty headache. However, I was able to locate the source very quickly and surmised what was happening. Being the consummate actress, I simply played along with my cover story.”

Astet laughed. “That, I will grant you, is one of your skills. I would lose patience, break character and smite those two buffoons.”

“Well, I guess it’s good that I took on this task.” Bess grinned.

“So you are to be a goddess pretending to be an archdemon pretending to be a human?” Astet shook her head from side to side. “Those tangled chains of lies again.”

~

DOF +7

Dawn (Murgatroy Time) 16-04-440

Tal Gor tossed restlessly on his sleeping mat. He was still a bit freaked out by his nocturnal experience. Once he had woken from dream walking last night, he had put the talisman on a small tray beside his bed and prepared to bandage his hand. However, he had quickly discovered that the cut was healed and that the palm of his hand was now scarred with what appeared to the same image as the talisman. The ridges of the scar appeared well healed, as if he had had it for years. He shook his head and looked at the talisman. The formerly worn imprint on the stone appeared new and fresh in the candlelight of his tent, rather than worn and old, as it had before his dream walking.

Tal Gor had hurriedly left his tent to tell Horrgus about his experience, but the old shaman had been passed out drunk on his cot. He had then gone to the main fire, where several warriors were still talking and drinking, and tried to tell them about his dream trip, but they had all laughed at him. They insisted he had fallen asleep and had a normal dream, and that he should go back to bed.

It was late and he had been tired, so he had gone back to bed. He needed to think about the events anyway. He supposed it made sense that none of the younger warriors would believe him; he could not really believe it himself. Tal Gor finally sat up. The light of predawn was seeping in through the loose closure of his tent flaps. He crawled over to the water bucket; the tent was so small there was no real point in standing up to get to the leather bucket’s tripod.

He grabbed his washrag and dunked it in the water to wash the sleep from his eyes and the dried sweat from his body. As he was doing this, his left hand began tingling.

“
Greetings, Tal Gor El Crooked Stick!”

This was weird; Tal Gor could hear Lord Tommus in his head!

“
Are you ready to hunt? You may select a total of twenty of your best hunters to join Commander Vespa Crooked Stick and her hunting party. Since the party flies, we will bring D’Wargs for your selected hunters to ride on the hunt.”

“Hunt? Ah, I had no idea it would be so soon—I need to gather hunters!”
Tal Gor exclaimed in his head.

Lord Tommus grinned in Tal Gor’s mind. “
Our hunters are gathering now. They have not been hunting in a very long time and so are anxious to enter Astlan. Make sure you have a good-sized fire going and make room around it for us to come through. I will be reaching out to you shortly to open the gateway!
”