The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (66 page)

Sir Gadius shook his head at his own pettiness. Such a horrible thought was unworthy of him. Still, if they at least met up for a short while, maybe the knight would stop obsessing over the woman. It had been long enough ago at this point that Talarius’s continued dwelling on her had become more of a pathology than an emotional sentiment.

Gadius suddenly had a horrible thought. What if Talarius refused to leave the Abyss without rescuing Melissance? It would be his one-time opportunity to do the unimaginable. Gadius shook his head at that thought. Where would one even begin to look for her, who had been but a poor lost soul consigned to the Abyss upon death, deprived of the grace of Tiernon? An unholy beast like that which had kidnapped Talarius would surely stand out in the Abyss; even if not, they would be able to track Talarius, given that the knight would be the only other thing in the Abyss to radiate the power signature of Tiernon. A lost soul, however, would be nearly impossible to find.

~

“Mistress?” One of her pages requested Lilith’s attention.

“Yes?” The demoness asked, gazing at her servant over the top of the old scroll of infantem vellum she had been reading.

“Lord Asmodeus is here to see you,” the page replied nervously.

“Show him in.” Lilith

The page closed the door and a few moments later the door opened again with the page ushering the demon prince in. Asmodeus came in with a firm jaw, but a distinct twinkle in his eye. The page left the room closing the door behind itself.

Lilith gestured at the chair opposite her in front of the ice-place for him to join her.

He glanced at the icy flames in the ice-place. “Cozying up with a good book?”

Lilith simply smiled and handed him the scroll.

As he took it, he noticed the feel. “Infantem vellum? It must be a good read.” He glanced briefly at it. “Indeed, I had thought this lost for a few millennia.”

Lilith smiled and shrugged. “I was cleaning up one of my remote palaces and found it.”

“Hmm, perhaps I should do similar to see what I might find.” Asmodeus chuckled.

“Knowing you, it’s more likely an issue of ‘who’ you might find. You tend to be in the middle of torturing someone, get distracted and then forget about them for a few centuries or more.”

Asmodeus shook his head from side to side in a short arc. “Are you prescient?”

Lilith raised an eyebrow.

“I did happen to find someone I had misplaced,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yes, although this had only been for a few decades.”

“Go on… I assume this must be something relevant to one of our current endeavors or you would not rush right over to tell me.” Lilith chuckled.

“Indeed.” Asmodeus nodded. “You recall this knight of Tiernon that the greater demon captured? Talarius?”

Lilith nodded. “My understanding is that he’s one of Tiernon’s greatest knights in Astlan.”

“Indeed, but that is not all. Like most heroes, he had an exploitable weakness.”

“Had?” Lilith asked.

“That’s just it. One of my archdemons had been working on this corruption deal with his vampire agents in Astlan, and they had encountered this Talarius and were working to corrupt him.”

“And?” Lilith was getting intrigued.

“Well, it seems they put a challenge out to him, and he rose above it and sacrificed his one true love to maintain his holy vows.” Asmodeus smiled.

“So the corruption exercise failed.” Lilith shrugged.

At this point Asmodeus’s grin became wicked. Lilith always enjoyed this grin. “Yes, but he has apparently been tormenting himself ever since.” Lilith nodded for him to continue. “And of course, we still have the bait—he sacrificed her and my agent has her soul!”

Lilith clapped her hands. “Excellent! Once he finds out, he will be compelled to mount a rescue mission. We then get him, and with him will come the greater demon!”

Asmodeus smiled. “This should drag this so-called greater demon out of that stupid cave he’s holed up in!”

Lilith’s grin faded and turned to a frown and then a grimace. “Yes, well, about that…”

Asmodeus looked at her curiously.

“There has been a bit of a complication. He and his entourage have relocated,” Lilith told him.

Asmodeus shrugged. “So where did he go? We will just track him down there. He didn’t leave the Abyss, did he?”

“No,” Lilith admitted, “but that might have been better. You aren’t going to like this.”

Asmodeus looked at her askance, puzzled by her meaning.

The guards at the gates to Murgatroy had observed the interaction in the wargtown and apparently decided this rather odd lot was safe to enter. From what Tal Gor’s parents and others had told him, including Soo An, Murgatroy was known to welcome more than its fair share of suspicious travelers. Which was all well and good, since he doubted the town had ever seen characters more unusual than the D’Orcs.  Demons were always frowned upon, of course, but unbound, winged demons that looked like orcs and went about of their own accord? He was sure that was unheard of. He was thus pleasantly surprised that they were not stopped.

On second thought, Tal Gor realized they were a hunting party of nineteen orcs and nineteen D’Orcs, Zerg Fel Far and Fed Tal having stayed behind in the wargtown to watch the gear and the D’Wargs. He had to admit, one would have to be rather crazy to try to stop such a group, especially when they were coming in peace to buy lots of stuff.

They were traveling down a rather wide boulevard towards the town center. He noted a number of taverns and brothels nearby. Given the proximity of the town to this gate, this was probably the main entrance for orc warriors. Tal Gor had not been here since he was a child. Soo An and his brothers came more frequently.

Naturally, everyone in the city stopped what they were doing to watch them walk down the street. The D’Orcs were giving the townspeople mean glares; clearly enjoying themselves. Bor Tal and Soo An nodded or waved occasionally to merchants or townspeople they recognized. He let his eyes smile, noting the way his tribemates were working so hard to pretend they did this sort of thing every day. He chuckled softly in his throat.

They were part of a legend come to life! For once, he felt the sort of glory the mighty heroes of old must have felt as they marched through conquered cities. True, they had not conquered Murgatroy, but they were looked upon with awe, trepidation and even fear. He was very pleased to note a number of small children crying with fright. As they passed one opening, a bunch of human youths who had been trying to get a look at what was coming down the street saw them, screamed in fear and ran the other way.

“Heaven,” Tal Gor said to himself.

Vespa laughed beside him and turned to give him a big grin.

Dider spoke up behind them. “Commander, there is a market up ahead, I am thinking we should pick up ingredients to make bread to go along with the meat.”

“Excellent idea; why don’t you take two D’Orcs and two orcs and buy several bags of grain and, if you can, eggs and yeast, yeast first. Kirak, see if you can get some sacks of root vegetables. Turnips, potatoes—whatever, and as much as you can find,” Vespa ordered.

“How about a wagon or two? That way we don’t have to make too many trips,” Tal Gor suggested. “Fel Nor and maybe one of your warriors could see about renting a wagon?”

Vespa nodded. “Excellent idea, but what is renting?”

~

“Why are you dragging me out here, Bastien?” Neelon demanded of his great grandson.

“I think you need to see this. I believe it is something that hasn’t been seen in Astlan since before my father’s birth,” Bastien told the elder. “But I need your confirmation.”

“So you need me for my geriatricity?” The old alfar complained.

“I would use the word
wisdom
, sir,” Bastien corrected as he dragged his great grandfather out onto the roof deck overlooking the marketplace.

“It had better to be important to rouse me from my meditation,” the old alfar harrumphed.

Bastien tugged him by the hand to the wall and pointed to the large square. “There, in the market!”

“What am I looking for?” Neelon groused, squinting out into the market.

“You cannot miss them,” Bastien replied.

Neelon stared out across the market for a moment before his raspy breathing stopped.  His back stiffened as his full attention became riveted on the market. He began scouring every inch of the market, counting under his breath.

“They came in with a similar-sized group of orcs. Prior to entering the city, they stopped to stable their mounts in the wargtown,” Bastien said.

“You mean their wargs?” The elder asked in an odd voice, hopeful yet resigned.

“Wargs only in the way those fellows with wings are orcs. They were bigger, nastier, winged wargs!” Bastien said with clear worry in his voice.

Neelon shook his head. “What do they want? Why are they here?”

“Apparently they are buying supplies—food, glargh, beer. I have no idea why; it must be some sort of subterfuge.”

“Or perhaps a great gathering,” Neelon sighed.

“Are they what I think?” Bastien said breathlessly, turning to stare again into the marketplace.

“Assuming you think they are D’Orcs, the infernal and eternally damned minions of the Dark Lord Orcus, then yes. Yes, they are.” Neelon said, sighing again.  “This is truly an ill wind and a dark day for both the alvar and the mortal races we shepherd.”

“What should we do?” Bastien asked worriedly.

“You and your fellow rangers need to get word to Murgandor as fast as possible. Send one messenger now, and another after these foul creatures depart, so that we can give a full accounting of their activity. They will be able to get word out to the rest of the alvar and to Prince Ariel and the Grove. Make all haste; do not rest on the journey.” Neelon sighed once more and turned to peer out into the marketplace in despair.

~

Tal Gor expected the presence of the D’Orcs to cause the merchants to haggle less. Apparently, however, the orc merchants, at least, did not seem that impressed. Once a merchant determined they wanted to buy his or her wares rather than kill him and take whatever they pleased, the merchant’s tone changed considerably.

Tal Gor was standing by the wagon that Fel Nor had rented and was directing the packing of foodstuffs. The glargh merchants were going to deliver the glargh barrels to the wargtown. While this was going on, a large orc dressed as a chieftain of some tribe Tal Gor didn’t recognize, approached him.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the chieftain demanded loudly.

“I am Tal Gor El Crooked Stick, Chief Shaman of the Dark Lord Tommus in Astlan.” So, maybe he was giving himself a new title, but since he was the only shaman of Lord Tommus on the planet, he figured it would be okay.

The chieftain snorted and sneered. “And who are your ugly compatriots?”

The chieftain was definitely intimidating, but Tal Gor knew he could show no fear. “They are my hunting partners, the immortal D’Orcs of Mount Doom, servants of my master, Lord Tommus. And who are you to question me?”

The chieftain gave him a huff and another nasty sneer. Tal Gor could smell glargh on the man’s breath. Clearly he was in his cups. “I am Gal Trog, Chief of the Arrow Clan.”

Tal Gor had not heard of the Arrow Clan; maybe it was one of the newer clans? “I am not familiar with your clan; however, if your tribe and your shaman wish to swear allegiance to Lord Tommus, I am sure others will soon know of your tribe,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

“Swear allegiance? To some unknown lord? I think I’d rather pound you into the ground a couple times,” Gal Trog threatened, raising his fist.

“I am not sure you want to move your arm further. Unless you wish me to rip it off and shove it up your soon to be greatly enlarged anus,” Virok hissed as he suddenly appeared behind Gal Trog. His claws locked on the chieftain’s upraised elbow.

Gal Trog turned his neck as much as his collar plate armor would allow and then twisted his eyes up and to the side to look into the blood-red eyes peering from Virok’s thin, pale gray face. The chieftain swallowed audibly. Virok was nearly a foot taller than the large chieftain.

Vespa came up behind Tal Gor. “Tell your tribe to prepare. Lord Tommus, Master of Mount Doom, has claimed his rightful place as the heir to Orcus and shall tolerate nothing less than complete obedience to his will.” Gal Trog’s eyes darted back and forth between Vespa and Virok.

“Understood,” he finally said. Virok released his grip on Gal Trog’s arm.

The chieftain lowered his arm and glanced briefly towards Tal Gor and nodded before sidling off and out of the crowd of D’Orcs and Crooked Sticks that had converged on the wagon. Within moments, he had vanished into the rather noisy crowd, all of whom were now talking about Lord Tommus and Mount Doom.

Tal Gor chuckled. “Well, hopefully that will stick with him.”

“If it does not, I will stick him with his arm, as promised,” Virok replied somberly.

~

Tom was walking down one of the many hallways in Mount Doom, contemplating a nap. Between turning on the electrical system, retrieving the Etterdam party, launching two more hunting parties and providing the baseline power for the complex, he was getting a bit worn out. He wondered if he would need to go back to his old cave just to nap and rest up without having to compete with Mount Doom for mana.

He was going to need to get more D’Orcs, or demons or any sort of living creatures into Mount Doom if he was going to get it to a self-sustaining state. The problem was, he had no idea how to make D’Orcs, and even if he did, it did not seem particularly ethical. If an orc died in the course of war or other circumstances and he brought them over, that would be one thing; but killing orcs just to make D’Orcs was no more ethical than what Lenamare had done to him.

Perhaps he could get some demons to move in? Maybe they could provide support services for the D’Orcs so they could focus on training and getting ready for battle. Battle? He was thinking about getting ready for battle? Tom shook his head; he had to be honest, that was exactly what he was thinking. Between Lilith and Tiernon, one of them would eventually come a-calling and he wasn’t sure he could talk either of them out of their plans for war.

Or did he want a war? That was probably what was disturbing him. If he admitted it to himself, he sort of wanted to wage war against his enemies. He suspected it was that whole demonization of his thought process that he had been worrying about a few weeks ago when he had popped that soldier and been so uncontrollably violent. He hated to admit it, but the violence and the battle felt energizing at times. Being around a bunch of battle-lusting D’Orcs probably was not helping either.

Speaking of which, down the hall he noted a second D’Orc hauling a bunch of large pieces of metal equipment down a cross corridor. When he reached the corridor, he turned right and followed the D’Orc.

The corridor went about another thousand feet before ending in what could only be called a blast door, right down to a large metal wheel and locks, not unlike the vault in which he had found the Rod of Tommus. In this case, however, the door was heavy metal and wide open.

Behind the door was a large room lit with overhead electrical lights. The room had metal grating on the floor and several long rows of metal booths or cabinets. Down the first corridor of booths, the last D’Orc he had seen coming this way was putting his gear in one of the open cabinets and connecting cables to the equipment. He could hear some other D’Orcs banging around in other aisles. Tom walked down to this one to see what was going on.

As he approached, the D'Orc glanced over and saw Tom. He suddenly stopped what he was doing, setting a large metal contraption down on the cabinet bench and turning to bow low to Tom. “My Lord. Varn Starsplitter at your service.”

Tom gestured for him to rise from his bowed position. “Greetings, Varn Starsplitter. I noted you and some others carrying a lot of gear this way and came to observe.”

Varn grinned and nodded. “A glorious day, thanks to Your Lordship! For the first time in four thousand years, we can charge our equipment!”

Tom nodded, suddenly realizing what he was seeing. “Ah, yes. The electrical system has been down for a long time, and now it’s back on.”

“Exactly. At long last I can charge my battle suit and my blaster, as well as the batteries for the range finding and ignition systems for my other weapons. Clearly, requiring a battery for the rocket launcher’s ignitions system was a tactical flaw. However, traditional fire starters don’t work so well in a vacuum.” Varn shrugged.

“How much tech equipment do we have here at Mount Doom?” Tom asked.

“A fair amount. We used to plunder base stations and conquered ships and haul stuff here and then our engineers would rig it to work in the Abyss on the lightning grid,” Varn said. “Commanders Zog and Morok have put a team together to bring the Tech Command Center, or TCC, back online. It is the second door to the right when you enter the main command center. It will be a great advantage should Lilith’s forces try another attack. She has not devoted much in the way of tech resources to her local fortress; she has not needed to since we lost power. I expect she will have trouble reallocating those resources. High-tech stuff requires good climate control, which we have at Mount Doom, but is very rare outside of here and the Courts.”

“Excellent. I would love nothing more than to give her a surprise.” Tom grinned.

Varn grinned widely. “We will once more have radar for monitoring incoming threats, as well as radio communication between commanders in the field and the TCC.” He chuckled evilly. “And I think they will find our anti-air and spacecraft artillery to be quite good at knocking demons out of the sky, as well as existence.”