The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (65 page)

“Well, given this is Mount Doom and most of their instruments have metal strings, their favorite type of music is called Doom Metal, but they also like all sorts of D’Orc rock. Anything that lets them really go to town on these metal stringed instruments. We get some of it at the Courts. I am not personally a huge fan, but I know a lot of demons who are. Of course, we do not call it D’Orc rock in the Courts, but I expect that it is similar. ”

Tom laughed. “Well, this should be more exciting that I’d expected! Sounds like we’ll be doing some serious head banging!”

“We may all want to, after two thousand orcs all line up to personally swear to you. I’m figuring that’s going to take a day or two,” Antefalken said.

“Yeah, that’s something I need to discuss with Zelda,” Tom said. “I am thinking we do it by commander. That way they all see their immediate comrades swear, but they don’t all have to be in the throne room the entire time if they don’t want to be. I am thinking some would get restless standing for a day or more at a time.”

Antefalken nodded. “I haven’t had any real experience with D’Orcs until now, but assuming they are like orcs, huge amounts of patience and just standing around is not their thing.”

“My thinking exactly,” Tom agreed as he stood. “I need to head down to open the gate to Ithgar. Beya Fei is awaiting us with the Olafa Horde.”

“Ithgar? Isn’t that a ways out there? It’s not in the Astlan localverse, is it?” Antefalken asked.

“It is not. Apparently the rules of magic are a bit different, but nothing too significant to cause problems. Frigda is one of our most experienced commanders and she is from there. We’re going to Romdan a bit later this morning once we clear the staging area, and that is in the localverse.” Tom told him.

“I spent a few years there with a master early in my career. I liked the place just fine.”

“The more interesting one that I want to see is Gormegast,” Tom said. “I am thinking about a visit this afternoon.”

“It’s a high-tech plane, as I recall,” Antefalken noted.

“Exactly.”

“I had a friend who was stuck chained to a mech for about a century there.” Antefalken shook his head. “Is this the Antilles Cluster where Zog Darthelm is from?”

“It is, interestingly. Given the vastness of space, I find that odd. Of course, I find it odd that on the magic planes we always seem to end up on the same planet. Why don’t some gateways open up to other planets in a particular universe?” Tom mused.

“How do we know that they don’t?” Antefalken asked.

Tom looked at him, puzzled.

“Well, what if the planes that we call ‘the localverse’ all observe the same rules of magic because they are other planets in the same universe? If they are on opposite sides of the galaxy, or different galaxies, we couldn’t even tell by the position of the stars,” Antefalken said.

Tom shook his head. “My head is spinning. The multiverse is huge—an infinite number of infinitely large universes with galaxies and stars!”

“Yeah, I try not to think about it. The nice thing is that with no night in the Abyss, we don’t have to stare up at the night sky and think about such things,” Antefalken replied.

~

Shortly before midday, Tal Gor and his compatriots landed about a thousand feet from the southwest outskirts of Murgatroy’s wargtown. With luck, the D’Wargs would get along with the wargs. Wargs from different tribes were often prickly around each other. D’Wargs and wargs would probably be even worse. With wargs, the promise of food and water, along with finishing a long journey, was usually enough to take the edge off. However, D’Wargs did not need to eat, drink or sleep, and really did not seem to get worn out.

In any event, Tal Gor would be glad to get off Schwarzenfürze. They had stopped at dawn to relieve their cramped legs, cramped bladders and cramped intestines. The orcs also ate trail bread and refreshed their water pouches from a nearby stream. The bread, water and walking around had helped clear their heads of glarghvost. Not completely, but it made the morning journey much more pleasant.

As to be expected, the D’Orcs spent most of the journey ribbing the orcs about their pathetic constitutions and being unable to hold their glargh. They liked to come up behind you and slap you hard on the back while screaming a loud greeting in your ear. Further, they also took great joy in discussing the most disgusting foods they had ever eaten, trying to make the glarghvost-suffering orcs toss their stomachs.

In all, a swell group of guys, Tal Gor thought. It was probably natural, in that the first generation D’Orcs had been chosen by Orcus as the best-of-the-best orc warriors. Therefore, you had these walking orc archetypes, and the best bloodlines the multiverse had to offer for the younger generations of D’Orcs. In particular, that explained Vespa, who was just so amazing! Yesterday, she had congratulated him on one particularly superior kill by punching him so hard in the shoulder that both Bor Tal and Fel Nor had had to help him relocate his shoulder in the socket afterwards! Tal Gor grinned and shook his head in appreciation of her magnificent strength. His shoulder still ached today.

As they were coming in for a landing, he could see orcs of various tribes, along with a good number of wargs coming to the edges of the wargtown to see them land. Several had their hands to their brows, trying to get a clearer view in the glare of fierdlight from above. Others were readying their weapons, naturally expecting an invasion. That is why they had landed a thousand feet away, to give those in the town time to realize they meant no harm.

Soo An had unfurled the tribe’s banner while they were in air. The flying tack had pole cups and straps for two banner staves. Vespa explained that, as their guests in this world, the D’Orcs were marching under the Crooked Stick banner on this mission. Soo An would also be carrying the colors with them into town.

They landed and the orcs dismounted.

“Keep your weapons sheathed and D’Wargs heeled,” Vespa ordered. “We’ll march with Tal Gor and myself in the lead, Soo An to my left flank, Virok to Tal Gor’s right flank. We keep our arms to our sides and in plain display.” It was a standard neutral formation for potentially rival tribes when approaching. The very presence of D’Orcs and D’Wargs guaranteed that those in the wargtown would be suspicious.

They approached the main corridor of the town. It was not walled, obviously, being a place for wargs to relax and wait for their orcs to return from the city. The wargs wanted to be free to come and go. From the main corridor, where a crowd had gathered, a large, heavily scarred, old orc shoved his way to the front, along with an orc in a vet coat and a one-eyed orc who looked to be nearly ninety years old, yet still quite burly.

Vespa chuckled and whispered to Tal Gor, “I am enjoying our visit as much as I can see you are. In the Abyss, we only have trading missions with various demon groups, and they are either notoriously hard to impress or the kind of spineless weasels you would just as soon step on as talk to.”

They came within twenty feet of the wargtown’s advance party. The leader was looking Vespa directly in the eyes; the other two were leering at her in a mixture of lust and barely concealed terror. Tal Gor chuckled. This woman’s mere presence could defeat an entire orc troop. The crowd in the town was staring and pointing at the D’Orcs and the D’Wargs. The wings were clearly confusing them.

The wargtown leader nodded to Vespa. “I am Meat Maker of the Broken Tusk Clan, Master of Wargtown here in Murgatroy,” he stated loudly. “This is WargDoc Toothsetter of the Nan Tribe, Vet of Wargtown.” He gestured to the orc in the vet coat. “To my left is Tiberious Smashfinger of Murgatroy, Watch Commander of Wargtown.”

Vespa nodded to them. “I am Vespa, daughter of Selma, daughter of Hazel, daughter of Vera Death Sister of the Crooked Stick tribe. I am Commander of the Nineteenth Regiment of the Dark Lord Tommus. My D’Orcs and I ride today under the banner of the Crooked Stick tribe at the invitation of Tal Gor El Crooked Stick, Shaman to the Dark Lord Tommus and the Crooked Stick tribe.” She gestured deferentially at Tal Gor.

Her right arm then gestured to Virok. “And this is Huntmaster Virok Soulwrecker of Erdnalia III in Visteroth.” That caused a number of mumblings.

“Apologies,” said Meat Maker, nodding to Virok, “I am not familiar with your clan?”

“I am from the plane of Visteroth; it is far outside this world’s localverse.” Toothsetter and Tiberious Smashfinger’s eyes both got a bit wider. The volume of noise in the crowd also spiked with this statement.

Tal Gor smiled. While there were certainly plenty of legends of offworlders, none had been seen in millennia.

“And you, commander?” Meat Maker made a gesture up and down, taking her in. “You and some of your compatriots are a bit unusual in appearance. Who is this Lord Tommus that you serve?”

From behind them, Kirak snorted. “You would think they had forgotten about D’Orcs!” Several other D’Orcs made snorting noises.

“You are the D’Orcs of legend and myth?” Meat Maker was now clearly looking troubled.

“We are,” Vespa stated. Tal Gor could sense her pride in the statement. “We serve the Dark Lord Tommus; the prophesied heir to the throne of Orcus and the new Master of Mount Doom!” She gave the crowd a very pleased, yet still rather frightening grin. The three leaders shifted quite uncomfortably as the crowd in the wargtown started babbling excitedly behind them.

“Uhm, so what brings you to Murgatroy?” Meat Maker asked nervously.

Vespa smiled. “What else? We come to trade. We have business in town and need a place for our D’Wargs to rest while we are here.” She held her arms out wide. “On this, we are no different than anyone else here.” She gestured to the town.

The three leaders stared warily at the D’Wargs, who stood off to the side snorting, spitting and periodically expelling snot, as was their wont when idling. Much like wargs, actually, just a lot more so.

Tal Gor glanced at the D’Wargs, controlling a smile. He could not blame Meat Maker for his trepidation; the D’Wargs were a surly lot. If he had not spent the day hunting with them, he would have been nervous himself. Of course, the way the D’Wargs were eying the wargs in the town… well, it was quite unsettling, suggesting a sort of hunger, but given his knowledge of wargs, he was sure it was more of a mating hunger than physical hunger.

“So you want a pavilion for them to rest in?” Meat Maker asked uncertainly.

Virok shrugged. “That is a convenient way to arrange it. My guess is that the D’Wargs may want to take the measure of some of the wargs here.” He grinned, his eyes glowing deep red in his otherwise gray face. “Perhaps in a few months some of your other guests may end up with some mighty nasty pups.”

“We will leave the customary two handlers here to ensure that none of the wargs are accidentally killed or eaten by the D’Wargs,” Vespa said, producing two large silver coins. “Will this be sufficient to rent a pavilion until midafternoon?”

Meat Maker eyed the two large, very old coins.  Suddenly he seemed to relax and get much friendlier. He nodded. “It will do; however, it does not cover glargh for your handlers. That is extra, paid at the bar.”

Vespa nodded.

~

Sir Gadius and Peace Bringer solidified on the shore of the small island along the coast of Norelon, en route to Keeper’s City. Gadius pulled his helmet off, placing it under one arm as he moved to a large rock to rest. His iridescent chain mail rattled under his surcoat as he sat. Peace Bringer wandered over to a patch of tasty-looking grass and began munching.

Gadius chuckled. “I might join you,” he said. “I’m not hungry, nor I suppose are you; but at this point, after the last five hours traversing the aether, any semblance of normality would be welcome.” To outside observers, the unicorn would seem to be ignoring him; however, Gadius could feel his companion’s amusement at his desire for normalcy. Gadius had never like traveling through the aether. True, one never tired or got hungry; nor did one have to worry about landscape features, if one did not care to. He did not like running through mountains and hills, though. It was too unsettling.  He preferred to go over such obstacles.

Sea travel was much better, unless the waves were really high; aethereally “splashing” through the waves, and sand dunes for that matter, was much less unpleasant than moving through solid stone.

He sighed. Officially, they were taking a break in the material world to relieve the
otherness
of the aether, but the two of them had spent days and nights traversing the aether when time was critical. One needed neither rest nor sleep in the aether. Time was important, but the arch-vicar general’s ships set the length of time for the journey, not the two of them. He had no desire to arrive in Keeper’s City before the fleet.

No, he had no fear of Keeper’s City; it was simply his distrust and distaste for the Oorstemothians. This proposed alliance did not sit well with him. However, their planned undertaking required resources that neither the Rod nor the church possessed. This Chancellor Alighieri claimed to have built the ideal tool to achieve their goal of rescuing Talarius.

It would be a long and difficult journey, if it even truly worked, but it was their solemn duty to try and rescue their brother knight. He could only imagine the horrors the good fellow must be enduring. With a cruel thought, Gadius suddenly wondered if Talarius had been reconnected with his doomed, damned ladylove, Melissance.