The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (63 page)

“I’m not sure I would completely agree,” Elrose said, walking into the lounge. “The UF has walled cities and clusters of keeps to protect their eastern farmlands.”

“True, for their eastern farmlands. However, there are large sections of exposed forests where their rangers have done a very good job of keeping out undesirables,” Maelen replied. “On the other hand, Murgandy has no fortresses and even trades with the various orc tribes.”

“Yes, but have you ever been to their forests? A place only Trisfelt could find even remotely tolerable, and then only for the beer.” Elrose shook his head and continued, “A very rough and tumble, primitive region filled with more than a few unsavory rogues and brigands.”

“But they seem to have a relatively good relationship with the orcs. And given that a lot of the citizens are alfar, that’s saying quite a bit.” Maelen noted.

“Sounds like a fun place.” Gastropé said.

Elrose grinned. “Well, you’ll get a taste soon enough. We’ll be heading right by Murgatroy and then down to Murgandor, where we will be making our first stop.”

“Why are we stopping in Murgandor?” Jenn asked, apparently not liking the description of the region.

Elrose nodded understandingly. “Seamach has contacts there who can give us recent information on Murgandy, Ferundy and Noajar. None of us have been to this part of the world in a long time, so we need to get up to speed on current events in the region.”

“Yes—for example, if the rat and mouse problems have suddenly improved considerably,” Maelen said, grinning.

Gastropé shook his head, not understanding at first, and then suddenly remembered who they were looking for. He chuckled at the seer’s joke.

~

Tal Gor gripped Schwarzenfürze’s neck harness with his left hand, his right hand tightly gripping the long-handled and very sharp scythe, hooking his right thumb under the harness. His legs squeezed the D’Warg’s shoulders tightly as they dove out of the sky with insane speed, swooping down on the gazelle that had been separated from the herd.

“Stick Vengeance!” Tal Gor screamed as the D’Warg rocked hard underneath him. With a mighty roar, the D’Warg’s long front claws grabbed the gazelle at the base of the neck, and her rear claws grabbed at the flanks. He felt the D’Warg pushing up against him as her mighty wings beat at three times their previous rate as she pulled up sharply, lifting the three of them off the ground.

Tal Gor raised his right arm and brought it down and around as he had been shown, slicing the gazelle’s neck with a dark splatter of blood. The animal’s struggles slowly ceased as it perished and Schwarzenfürze banked hard to the right while still lifting them higher into the air to return to the agreed-upon collection spot.

“Best hunt ever!” Tal Gor shouted, even though no one other than Schwarzenfürze could hear him. The others were all pursuing other herd members. They had broken up into ten teams of four, two D’Orcs and two orcs with D’Wargs, and gone in different directions to find game. Tal Gor was amazed at the speed of the D’Orcs and D’Wargs. Their ability to fly faster than an orc could run allowed them to cover an unprecedented amount of ground. When one combined the speed with the aerial vantage point of several hundred feet, locating and tracking game herds became almost too easy.

How would his tribe members ever want to go back to normal hunting again? He chuckled. The D’Orcs had been unbelievably true to their word! This was the greatest honor an orc hunter could wish for, to be able to hunt like this, to be the ultimate predator. The adrenaline rush was amazing! Tal Gor had never felt so alive in his life.

He glanced back to ensure the other group members were also returning with their kills. They were doing well; Vespa and Bor Tal both had kills. Kirak Doth Nar, the other D’Orc in their group, was going in for his kill even as he watched, swooping down and landing on the gazelle’s back as if mounting it. However, instead of grabbing the neck to hold onto, he reached his huge claws around and slit the animal’s neck with his left hand before wrapping both arms around it and clamping his legs around the flanks. He then pulled up, lifting the still-twitching gazelle into the air.

Tal Gor grinned and waved his scythe to the others in triumph. “What a glorious day!” he yelled joyfully at the top of his lungs.

They reached the designated collection point. It took quite a bit longer to get back to it than it had coming outbound. Lugging the gazelle carcasses significantly reduced speed, although not proportionately different than lugging an animal on one’s back slowed one’s march, Tal Gor suddenly realized.

They came in low and slow.  Schwarzenfürze released the body and continued on, finally coming to rest about two hundred feet away. They wanted to collect all the carcasses in one spot. Vespa dropped her gazelle and flew over to where Schwarzenfürze had landed. Both Vespa and Tal Gor were grinning in pleasure.

Bor Tal dropped his kill and flew to join them; he was laughing and shaking his scythe in the air. “This is the best way to hunt!” He shook his head and looked straight at Tal Gor. “I am so sorry for doubting your sanity, brother. If these are the visions caused by a viperclaw bite, then I want to be bitten every day!”

Kirak Doth Far had deposited his kill and was heading over to them. “Vespa, this is a great day indeed! I have longed to do this, to hunt the Planes of Orcs as my parents did. If only my father had survived to do this again. My mother shall revel when her turn comes!”

Tal Gor was puzzled. “So you have not done this before either?”

Vespa grinned at him. “Neither of us has. Virok and several of the others have. Kirak is second generation, I am fourth; only first generation D’Orcs have hunted, or for that matter warred upon the Planes of Orcs.”

“I am not sure I understand
generation
as you use it,” Bor Tal said.

“First generation D’Orcs were mighty orc warriors who were raised upon death to become D’Orcs, a warrior companion of Orcus. The later generations of D’Orcs were born in the Abyss to D’Orc parents. We have always been D’Orcs.”

Bor Tal was shaking his head. “You mean the first D’Orcs, the oldest ones, were once orcs like me, my tribe?”

Kirak Doth Far nodded. “My mother and father were both mighty warriors, my father of the Crooked Stick tribe nearly five thousand years ago. He grinned, remembering. “He would tell me of the great raids upon the wall of keeps guarding Ferundy, before the desolation. He was in the D’Orc raid that caused the desolation!”

Bor Tal was staring at Kirak Doth Far in awe. “Your father was at the Desolating?” Kirak nodded. “Ah, the tales he must have told.” Bor Tal sighed. “To hear firsthand of that battle. If I were not here, hunting with you on this D’Warg, I would not believe such a thing. It is simply too glorious!”

There was a whooping noise and a loud thump over by the carcasses. Soo An and Dider An Sep had just dropped a very large ox carcass. It had taken both of the D’Orc and Soo An’s D’Warg to carry the large carcass. The two started over towards the group.

“Dider An Sep, she is first generation,” Vespa told them. “She is of the Fen Horde on Romdan.” As the new arrivals came up, she asked them, “Good hunting?”

Soo An shook her head. “Damn oxen are too slow. It is very hard to slow down enough in a dive to get a clean kill! And once they start moving, they are nearly impossible to stop! The momentum is incredible!”

“It takes patience,” Dider An Sep said with a chuckle.

“D’Warg and D’Orc claws do work a lot better than crossbow bolts taking these wild oxen down.”

Tal Gor was enjoying the hunt talk. He had missed this so much. Of course, with Vespa standing right beside him, it was bit difficult to keep one’s eyes focused on who was speaking, unless it was Vespa herself. She was so enticing.
The blood splatter on her cheek was so…
He shook his head. He needed to focus on the hunt around him, enjoy being part of that and not be a mooncalf for a sexy woman.

“So why are you now needing to hunt on the Planes of Orcs after so long?” Bor Tal asked Vespa. Tal Gor had missed some of the conversation, but this brought his attention back.

Vespa nodded. “For many years, over four thousand in fact, after the fall of Orcus in Etterdam” —here the D’Orcs all made an odd gesture of respect —“we have not been able to get to the Planes of Orcs. All the D’Orc shamans who could do so perished with Lord Orcus or not long after.” She shook her head.

“What did you eat?” Soo An asked.

Vespa smiled. “D’Orcs are similar to demons, jötunn, djinn and similar beings in that we don’t need to eat or drink. Although we do enjoy it.”

“Now that Lord Tommus has returned as promised, we can once again hunt,” Dider said as Vespa nodded.

“Lord Tommus has returned? Was he there before?” Bor Tal asked.

Dider shook her head. “No, not exactly.”

Vespa continued, “A century after the debacle in Etterdam, a great shaman named Tiss-Arog-Dal foretold that Lord Orcus would return, reborn as a new demon prince, and that we would know him when he returned to us with his identical son and an entourage. It was foretold that he would locate and release the Wand of Orcus, thus restarting Mount Doom. He would finally end the dark status quo that had been established with his death in Etterdam.”

“And a few other assorted odd details,” Dider added, “not relevant at the moment.”

“So this Lord Tommus is Lord Orcus reborn?” Soo An asked.

“Well, that’s what the prophecy said, or something similar. It was in a rather convoluted and ambiguous language, as prophecies always are. But that is how we interpreted what was foretold. Every other interpretation we could come up with made no sense. There was some other nonsense about a book, but how many orcs have books?” Vespa looked at Tal Gor. “No offense shaman.”

“Uhm, I actually have only two books—quite a number of scrolls though,” Tal Gor said.

“Scrolls, I understand; they often have maps. Books are too long-winded, take up too much time,” Dider said. “Just tell me what I need to know, spare me the useless details.”

Bor Tal nodded. “Who do we fight, when do we fight, and where do we fight!”

Kirak nodded and smiled. “Exactly!”

“And who’s bringing the glargh for afterwards!” Dider added.

“We are not going to have enough glargh to wash down our meat after this giant hunt!” Soo Ann suddenly worried.

Vespa laughed. “You think you have a problem? We are hunting here and on other planes to feed two thousand D’Orcs. Getting enough glargh—or as we drink, x-glargh—is going to be a true challenge. We are going to need at least three dozen barrels!”

“The steward thinks she has some ideas on getting glargh to make x-glargh, but it is a lot to pull together on such short notice,” Dider said.

Bor Tal shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about three dozen, but you should be able to get a dozen barrels in Murgatroy.”

“That’s where we get barrels for the tribe gatherings.” Soo An nodded.

The D’Orcs looked at each other. “Is this Murgatroy far away?” Vespa asked.

“Quite a ways, but if we are flying at hunt speed? A bit over a day’s flight, perhaps.”

“That’s a lot of hunting time.” Vespa shook her head. “It would take us until after fierdset to get there. Let us discuss this with the steward and Lord Tommus. We might be able to return tomorrow to get glargh.”

“Or,” Dider said, “Astlan is mana rich. D’Orcs and D’Wargs need no sleep. After we hunt, we could travel through the night to this Murgatroy. Our hosts, who know where we are going, would need to sleep on D’Wargback, which I suspect would not be pleasant.”

“We can ride all night for glargh!” Bor Tal said with a bit of indignation. “We are Crooked Sticks, after all!” He grinned.

“I would be game for that!” Tal Gor said. He did not want this day to end, so if he could extend it through tomorrow, that would be ideal. Bor Tal and Soo An nodded in agreement.

Vespa grinned and nodded her head.

DOF +7

Fifth Period 16-04-440

“You are looking a bit… sickly, master,” Vaselle told Edwyrd hesitantly as the animage finished dressing in the clothes he had asked the wizard to purchase for him.

“You are starting to sound like Tizzy,” Edwyrd said, chuckling. “You do know that if I walked about the city in my true form, there would be mass panic and the wards would be immediately snapped back on?”

Vaselle shrugged. “Yes, but it seems a small price for not sacrificing your comfort. Surely squeezing your true magnificence into such a small and weak form must be uncomfortable?”

Edwyrd looked at Vaselle and grinned. “You are amazingly perceptive, Vaselle. It is quite uncomfortable, particularly when I haven’t been in this form for several days. It takes adjustment. However, we need to go see Damien and I can’t enter the palace as Tom.”

“Have you have finished with your hunting parties?” Vaselle asked.

“I brought the last game back from Etterdam right before I came here; however, I will be retrieving the D’Orcs in the morning. They are feasting with their hosts tonight and wanted some more time outside the Abyss. The guys here in Astlan are feasting now and will be heading to someplace called Murgatroy overnight to try and get barrels of glargh.”

“Murgatroy?” Vaselle said, trying to recall if he knew where that was. “I assume that must be somewhere near Jotungard?”

Edwyrd shook his head. “I barely know where Freehold is relative to Gizzor Del and Lenamare’s castle.” He frowned. “I’ve got maps, or at least old maps. I should study them. If I had more shamans I’d have them update the maps, but that’s a big undertaking.”

“You could just buy some maps here in Freehold,” Vaselle observed.

Edwyrd grinned. “Mount Doom’s maps are pretty cool; you will want to see them.” He chuckled. “I probably should get some normal maps for an interim update, but I am not sure how long paper maps will last in the Abyss.” He shook his head. “So much work to do!”

Edwyrd reflected on his conversation about maps with Vaselle as they made their way to the palace and Damien’s suite. He had mentioned all the work he had to do to bring Mount Doom up to date, and that was very true, but the real insight was that it was
something to do
.  Up until he had freed the Rod of Tommus, he had not really had anything to do. He had had no goal other than getting by day-to-day. Now he had something worth doing, something constructive to actually do with his time. That was exciting. It was surprising how much better he felt having something to do, something to plan for and look forward to. He had been feeling pretty depressed in his old day-to-day rut, bouncing from disaster to disaster and contemplating doing that for thousands of years. However, rebuilding Mount Doom and the D’Orcs and their networks—that was something to keep him occupied for centuries, if not longer. There were infinite worlds to explore. Things to do, places to go. Really, this could be a lot of fun!

Of course, there was the small detail of the Church and Rod of Tiernon, and presumably this Lilith woman who hated D’Orcs for some reason. However, he should be able to reach an accommodation with them. He had no desire for conquest, just for ensuring good lives for his people. It would take some effort, but he was sure he could work out deals. He hoped so, at least. He had seen how difficult Talarius could be; Tiernon and the rest were probably worse.

They were just starting up the stairs to Damien’s suite’s floor when he realized that he was thinking about negotiating a treaty with a god. Okay, somebody’s ego was getting out of check! Edwyrd grinned to himself. The two walked down the hallway to Damien’s suite and Vaselle knocked on the door.

One of Damien’s valets opened the door and let them in. Damien came into the sitting room from the dining room.

“Welcome back, Edwyrd, Vaselle,” Damien said, reaching his hand out in greeting to Edwyrd and then Vaselle. “I think the later time worked out better because we can have dinner.”

“Definitely. I’ve been looking forward to catching up and getting your advice on various issues,” Edwyrd said. “Plus it’s a great opportunity to talk to both of you about making an arcane device that I think would be quite useful.”

~

“So you have no idea what was behind those Etonian wards?” Damien asked after Edwyrd had finished relating his story. He had gone back to the major turning point in the story. Obviously a rather hard-to-believe incident.

Edwyrd shook his head. “Not a clue.” He gestured to Antefalken and said, “We were just out for sightseeing and picking up some treasure. We then got lost and in over our heads. It was purely random chance; a case of being in the right place at the right time.”

Antefalken nodded. “I admit, if I had not been there every single step of the way, I would never have believed this story.”

Damien closed his eyes and shook his head. “But how does one accidentally stumble upon the Wand of Orcus?” He opened his eyes. “Lost, hidden and shielded by Etonian runes for thousands of years, right in the old seat of this demon prince’s lair?”

Edwyrd chuckled. “And not only that. These were not just Etonian runes; this stuff was pure Tiernon magic. I could easily see that, and the trick I learned in battle, how to decode their mana streams—I used the same trick on these runes and then used the excess mana I’d stolen to meld with and subvert the wards. I was basically masquerading as an avatar of Tiernon.” Edwyrd blinked as he said this, having not really thought of that angle before.

“How do you plan something like that?” Antefalken asked.

Damien shook his head and shrugged. “I have no idea; I could not have foreseen the results of your battle with Talarius, let alone the way in which the battle came about thanks to Lenamare.”

“Exactly, it was completely random that we went treasure hunting at Mount Doom,” Antefalken said.

Edwyrd frowned. “Well—I’m not so sure on that point.”

The others looked at Edwyrd. “It may simply be his insanity, but when I freed the Rod of Tommus from the stones, Tizzy was looking happier, more ecstatic than I’ve ever seen him. He was literally dancing, or at least I think that was what he was doing. It could have been a seizure.”

Antefalken squinted. “Well, it
was
his idea to go there.”

“And he knew a lot of the D’Orcs,” Edwyrd pointed out. “And they didn’t seem to like him.”

“Which proves they probably did know him,” Antefalken pointed out.

“But the idea that Tizzy planned all this doesn’t make much sense, given that it
is
Tizzy we are talking about. You’ve known him much longer than I have; have you ever known him to be able to carry out anything that required planning?”

Antefalken shook his head. “I’ve known him since I first arrived in the Abyss. The only thing he ever seems to reliably remember to do is to restock his pipe stash. Otherwise, he is very unreliable. Actually, the fact that he’s stuck around so long with us is pretty remarkable.”

Edwyrd nodded. “That’s what I’ve noticed. Although I still don’t know where he’s keeping his pipe and stash.”

Antefalken grinned. “I can guess about the pipe.” His grin was suddenly replaced by a frown. “Although now that I say that, as a fiend he should not be able to do that.” He shook his head. “Whatever. I don’t think it is relevant, other than I have no idea where he gets the stuff he smokes.”

“If this is where this conversation is going”—Damien shook his head and reached for the wine decanter—“I’m going to need another drink.”

“Me too,” Vaselle said, lifting his glass towards the decanter so Damien could refill it.

“You would need a drink if you’d been stuck in a cave with Tizzy going on and on the whole time. If not talking to us or irritating Talarius, he would just start up conversations with himself,” Edwyrd said, smiling.

“You mean like the heated debate he had with himself over ruined buildings in the Courts of Chaos? And why someone might choose to live in a ruin?” Antefalken asked, laughing.

Edwyrd laughed and looked at Damien. “Tizzy is nuts. It’s just that this prophecy stuff from the D’Orcs has me getting a bit paranoid.” He turned back to Antefalken. “Before one goes too far off the deep end, it’s always critical to step back and take a rational look at reality and who one is dealing with.”

Damien chuckled and lifted his wine glass in a toast.

~

DOF +8

After Midnight (Murgatroy Time) 16-05-440

Tal Gor groaned as Schwarzenfürze was buffeted by a particularly strong wind current. He was strapped in pretty tight and resting his head on the D’Warg’s neck and the back of her head. He was trying to sleep off a bad case of glarghvost as they flew to Murgatroy, but it was a bumpy flight. He could only imagine how his family and tribemates were doing on their D’Wargs. Evil D’Orcs had been having great fun at their expense. Glargh could not make D’Orcs drunk, but they had failed to tell anyone that, so that had led to drinking challenges that his tribe had all promptly failed. It was very hard to outdrink someone who could not get drunk.

The D’Orcs had eventually explained to everyone that they drank x-glargh, which was a more potent (as in
fatal
to orcs), version of glargh. They wanted to get glargh in Murgatroy so they could doctor it into x-glargh for their party. At this point, Tal Gor could not even imagine a party with glargh, let alone x-glargh.

They had had an incredible feast and party after they had returned from the hunt. No one in the tribe could remember a bigger haul for a hunting party. Nor could anyone recall stories of one. The D’Orcs had let the tribe keep as much as they could readily eat or preserve, and the rest had been hauled through a portal to Mount Doom for the feast of Lord Tommus.

The tribe had eaten better this evening than they had in at least a generation! It had been a feast to remember for a lifetime and everyone was exceedingly pleased. The hunters had regaled the rest of the tribe with the events of the day, their great kills. He smiled to think how jealous those who had been left behind were. None of them had ever hunted from the air before. So much glory! So much honor!

Even through his lingering drunken haze and severe headache, Tal Gor felt deliriously happy. Now they were on their mission for more glargh. The plan was to go and buy as many barrels of glargh as they could; he would then summon Lord Tommus. They would then all go into Mount Doom, bringing the glargh with them. Lord Tommus said they would do the swap in the freezer so as not to be roasted. Very odd comment, but apparently it was quite hot in the Abyss.

Lord Tommus had left his son Rupert and Rupert’s friend Fer-Rog with the tribe. Apparently, Lord Tommus could communicate with Rupert. He would summon Lord Tommus to open a portal, and then the orcs could return to camp without having to make the long return journey, bringing a couple of barrels of glargh back with them.

It would have been a lot of effort to carry a dozen or more barrels of glargh on the long flight back to the camp. Tal Gor shook his head, thinking about how much easier life was when you could fly and open shortcuts to other planes to travel through. It was literally the stuff of legends.

As he eyed the dark, distant ground below him, he wondered what it would feel like to be puked on from above. Certainly worse than bird droppings. Something or someone down there might have to find out soon. His stomach was no happier than his head. He gently petted Schwarzenfürze’s fur as they flew; doing so was rather soothing to his glargh-addled body.

~

“This place is awesome!” Fer-Rog exclaimed to Rupert as they came up to a wide stream.  He jumped in the water and splashed around. “Water that stays on the ground? That you can walk into and through?” Fer-Rog shook his head. “It is almost as weird as the hairy ground!”

“Tall grass,” Rupert corrected for the third time. “Most of the ground in Astlan has stuff growing on it. Except for deserts, or so I am told. I have never seen a desert other than, I guess, the Abyss.

“Yeah, and those wooden sticks growing out of the ground are pretty cool too. Who knew wood was all fluffy on the end? We have so little wood at Mount Doom, and all of it really old and heavily preserved.” Fer-Rog hunkered down to sit in the stream.

“It is so cool, cold even. I have never felt anything like it.” He ran his claws through the water, watching it whirl and part around his fingers. He looked towards the east as Fierd came above the horizon, and his eyes widened. “Don’t look now, but there is a giant ball of fire that just came over the horizon!”

Rupert chuckled. “That’s Fierd. It is coming up and will follow an arc through the sky, bringing light to the world!” He traced Fierd’s path through the sky with his arm. “Wow, I just realized this is your first fierdrise!”

“What’s a fierdrise?” Fer-Rog asked.

“It’s what we are watching: Fierd rising above the horizon, starting its journey while providing light, energy and life to plants,” Rupert explained.

“So it’s orbiting Astlan? I remember being taught that Astlan, and most worlds, are spheres.” Fer-Rog asked.

“No, Astlan orbits Fierd; Uropia and Anuropia orbit Astlan. That greenish crescent we saw in the sky last night was Uropia, the closest moon. Anuropia should be in the southern hemisphere now and visible during the day. Not sure where we are, but given where Uropia was in the sky, we might see Anuropia near the southern horizon today.”