The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (87 page)

“So, Wing Arms Master,” Barabus asked Heron. “Have you seen this ‘Extender of the Law’ thing Chancellor Alighieri has built?”

Heron shook his head. “No, Arch-Vicar General, I have not. I have railed and ranted about its cost in countless councils, chanceries and more than a couple of committees, but I have not seen it. This shall be as new for me as it is for you.”

“Yet you know what it does? How it works?” Barabus asked. “I know we have heard many speeches on it, and I understand that it will allow Oorstemoth and its allies to extend the long arm of the law beyond anything currently imaginable. But I’m not sure how exactly it does this.”

Heron nodded. “I can understand how, after only the few brief”—he raised his eyebrow on Barabus’s side—“meetings and lectures we enjoyed last night and today, that might be. Clearly, the speeches only had time to brush upon the most salient and significant signature statistics, supplying only a circumspectly slight survey.”

Heron paused for a moment as Barabus nodded in feigned agreement. Heron then continued, “But rest assured, I have been diligent in deliberating on every detail of its design, development and deployment, not to mention cost, for the last twenty years. Poring over thousands of pages of punctually delivered, pointless papers, each with the predictable pontification. Having done so, I can most certainly assure you that I have no better idea than you as to what this damnable thing of Alighieri’s is. All I know is how much I could not spend on more useful military machinery these last twenty years.”

At long last they came to the end of the very long, wide corridor that they had been marching down. The chancellors stopped in front of large metal doors, guarded by three soldiers. While Chancellors Ain and Sagramn worked with the guards to show the approved paperwork for the people following them, Chancellor Alighieri turned to the others, smiled and prepared to speak.

“Friends, allies, colleagues, Chancellor Alighieri said, practically glowing. “As you know, I am a man of few words.” There was more than one person behind Barabus who suddenly had an urge to cough, both from his side and from the Oorstemothian side. “But on this, what I am sure will be the eve of an auspicious alliance of altruistic activist agnates and advocates seeking solely the cooperative consanguinity of a conciliatory conjoined course committed to coordination in countless endeavors to exceed the extent of justice, jurisprudence and the law beyond its current boundaries, I would like to say a few words.”

“Chancellor,” Heron interrupted.

“Yes, Wing Arms Master?”

“In the far distant lands into which we expect to extend and elevate our ability to carry out the requirements of the law, there is a saying.” Heron paused; the chancellor simply looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Facts on the ground speak louder than words.”

The chancellor shook his head in puzzlement.

“Can you just open the door and show us what you have built? What you have spent so incredibly much money on these last few decades?” Heron asked.

The chancellor grimaced, obviously unhappy about having to skip his prepared remarks. He ran through a small gamut of facial expressions, ending with resignation and finally pride.

“As you will, Wing Arms Master. After countless committee comments questioning the commitment of cash to this carefully crafted construct, I think you will be more than sufficiently satisfied with the result.” He gave the wing arms master a tight grin. “Gentlemen,” he addressed his fellow chancellors. “Open the doors!”

The large metal double doors opened inward, spreading to reveal a very well lit, cavernous room. The first thing Barabus noted was a metal railing of about ten feet on the other side of the doors. The doors were opening onto a balcony over the cavernous room beyond.

The party stepped into the brightly lit metal and stone room. The room was enormous, well over fifteen hundred feet long and two hundred feet wide with something on the order of a two-hundred-foot-high ceiling. The huge space was filled with cranes, scaffolds and more equipment of different sorts than Barabus could even begin to imagine.

However, all of this was rendered insignificant by the room’s primary content: the thing that all the scaffolding and cranes were designed to work with. Barabus’s own mouth fell open even as he heard gasps from those behind him, including the knights. For once in Oorstemoth, no one spoke. The entire entourage was silent, staring at the vast… device? ship? vessel? that took up the majority of space in the room.

Vessel. It had to be some sort of monstrously huge vessel, Barabus thought, shaking his head. It was a thousand-plus-foot-long tube with rounded end caps. It was about seventy or eighty feet in diameter and made of solid black metal. Every inch of the metal hull was covered in runes, most currently only dully visible against the metal, but a fair number were glowing ominously against even the bright light of the room.

At each end were small towers protruding a few stories from the top of the thing. In the center, an even taller metal tower rose upwards. Along each side of the tube were large metal fins that stuck out at least another thirty feet. Like the body of the device, the metal fins were also engraved with runes.

Murmurs of surprise and shock finally began to rise from the assembled guests. Barabus looked up from the device and glanced at Heron, who was staring at the chancellor in complete shock.

Finally, Heron addressed the chancellor. “My gods, Dante! What have you wrought?”

Chancellor Dante Alighieri smiled even wider and raised his arms to gesture at his creation. “Ladies and gentlemen! Behold the future of law enforcement! Behold the vessel that shall allow us to extend the law to all parts of the multiverse! In air, water, fire, vacuum and aether! The law and its justice may now be served in the Abyss, in the outer planes, the demi-elemental Planes and every single material plane. As of today, there is no way to escape the law!”

Dante took a bow. As he rose, he raised his arms again and cried, “Behold! The Inferno!”

The recently cleaned pipe organs in the volcano throne room swelled in unison with the voices of the fully assembled D’Orc battalions at the conclusion of the oath taking.

United forever in comradeship and battle

Our mighty Empire will ever endure.

The Great Empire of Doom will live through the ages

The dream of the people, their fortress secure.

Long live our Mount Doom motherland

Built by the people’s mighty hand.

Long live our people, united and free

Strong in our comradeship tried by fire.

Long may our crimson flag inspire

Shining in glory for mortals to see.

Through days dark and stormy where Lord Tommus leads us

Our eyes see the bright fire of freedom above.

And Tommus our leader, with faith in the people

Inspires us to build up the land we love.

Long live our Mount Doom motherland

Built by the people’s mighty hand.

Long live our people, united and free

Strong in our comradeship tried by fire.

Long may our crimson flag inspire

Shining in glory for mortals to see.

We fight for the future, and shall destroy invaders

And bring our homeland the laurels of fame.

Our glory will live in the memory of mortals

And all generations will honor her name.

Long live our Mount Doom motherland

Built by the people’s mighty hand.

Long live our people, united and free

Strong in our comradeship tried by fire.

Long may our crimson flag inspire

Shining in glory for mortals to see.

Reggie leaned forward and over to whisper in Tom’s ear. “Does that music sound oddly like the anthem the sailors sang in
The Hunt for Red October?
”

Tom shrugged. It did sort of sound like the old Soviet anthem, but he was not an expert on empires that collapsed before he was born.

It did not matter. This was his home. His homeland, his people! The booming, very martial music was the perfect capstone on the last day of oaths. D’Orcs united and inspired once more for a bright future! They would take on the multiverse, right the wrongs of the past, and bring justice to the D’Orcs and the Orcs! No more would Lilith or the smugly arrogant Los Alfar be able to look down on their people!

Tom felt like his heart would burst with the pride and joy of the assembled and once more united D’Orcs and D’Wargs as well as their assembled allies. Truly a glorious moment that would remain in their memories for all eternity. Literally, for all of eternity. Immortality, fame, glory; it was theirs to claim! Tom let his breath out softly, realizing it had been stuck in his lungs; he had been inhaling the smell of the moment and had forgotten to let it go. At long last, or well, after forty days, he had a purpose, a place. For the first time since Lenamare had dragged him away from his past life, he could see a future for himself.

~

“Quite a day,” Antefalken said to Drag-Krallnom, watching the assembled battalions beside him.

“Truly, bard. I confess, I did not think this day would ever come.”

“You know that I am going to have to get you to tell me the real story of what happened four thousand years ago. I know the Balladae Orcusae, but I want to compose a new, accurate song to commemorate it properly.”

Drag-Krallnom snorted. “It would be good to correct the propaganda that Lilith and her brood spews in the Abyss, and those vile alvar in Midgard.”

“Are you saying that Lilith and the alvar are somehow in league with each other?” Antefalken asked in surprise.

“In no way that we can prove,” replied Darg-Krallnom. However, Lilith has plagued us for millennia here and the Los Alfar have done the same in Midgard. It all goes back to tensions left unresolved at Ragnarök. Lilith, and for that matter, many others in multiple worlds, felt those issues were resolved in Etterdam with the treacherous defeat of Orcus. However, as was prophesied, those issues are
not
resolved.” He chuckled. “There shall be another reckoning, and this time, justice will prevail.”

“Interesting,” Antefalken mused. “This is all way before my time. Clearly, there is a lot that Lilith has never revealed to me.”

“You have met Lilith then?” Darg-Krallnom asked suspiciously.

Antefalken chuckled. “I have. I am, or I suppose
was
, the preferred bard for the Courts.” He shook his head. “But I am sure I am persona non grata now. She knows that I am, and have been for some time, in Tom’s camp. The Jilted Bride is a jealous mistress and will tolerate no infidelity.” He paused and then added, “In other words, I am not going back to the Courts unless it is flying in formation with a D’Orc army.” They both chuckled.

“The Jilted Bride?” Darg-Krallnom asked.

“Yes. I advise not using that name outside of Doom. She hates that title more than any other.”

“Why? I do not know that name for her.”

“A very, very long time ago, well before Doom was built, she was the intended of a man named Adam. She thought they were in love.” Antefalken shrugged, “Old story; he ran off with another woman named Eve to bear children and live a mortal life.”

“A mortal life?”

“As she tells it, there were four of them: Adam, Lilith, Sammael and Eve. Adam and Lilith were intended for each other, and Sammael and Eve were also intended for each other. However, long story short, Eve apparently ate some bad food and convinced Adam to do the same. Not sure if it was hallucinogenic or what, but the two ran off to become mortal and have babies.” Antefalken shook his head. “I have no idea how much, if any, of that is true, but it’s a version she tells, so it is possibly more accurate than any of the other stories. Of which there are many.”

“So that is how she and Sammael got stuck together?” Darg-Krallnom asked.

“As she tells it.”

Darg-Krallnom said, “Very well then. From now on, the Jilted Bride will be the official term for our enemy.”

They watched as the D’Orcs began to file from the volcano basin, heading to the party. It was a good day.

~

Tom waited until the last of the D’Orcs had filed out of the throne room and then headed toward the master kitchen, where Zelda was working to get things out. As he crossed a ramp going down to other kitchens, he ran into Tizzy coming up the ramp.

“Tom!” Tizzy exclaimed happily.

“Tizzy!” Tom smiled at him.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Tizzy said.

Tom stopped. “What’s up?”

“There is a pile of mud in an alcove off my kitchen’s main corridor that wants to talk to you,” the octopod said.

“There is a what?” Tom asked, blinking.

“A pile of animated mud,” Tizzy said.

“A pile of animated… mud?”

“Yes, you know—a mud golem.”

Tom shook his head. “No I don’t know. You are saying there is a mud golem down near your kitchen that wants to talk to me?” Tom looked at him askance. “Did you get too close to your oven’s fires? You are not making much sense.”

“It said that the shamans had promised to bring you to see it after you finished the oath taking.”

“Uh, well, I have not seen them yet. I was going to meet with Zelda and then join them at the party,” Tom said.

“Okay. Hate to think they were not keeping their promise to the mud golem.”

Tom shook his head. Just when he thought the crazy was over for the day. “So do I need to talk to this mud golem?” He was tired, yet there was still a lot of work to do. He did not really have time for Tizzy’s insanity.

“Yeah, I said I’d come get you. I’m not going to break a promise to a mud golem,” Tizzy replied.

Tom tried to rub the bridge of his nose without gouging out his eyes with his claws. He sighed and shook his head. “Okay, lead on!”

Tizzy led him down the ramp to another level and then down a second corridor a short distance to another ramp down. They went down that ramp and headed toward what Tom recognized as the kitchen Tizzy and his demons were using. They turned and went down a side corridor a short ways until encountering an alcove with mud oozing out onto the corridor floor.

“Here we go.” Tizzy gestured to what appeared to a mud statue of some sort of humanoid. The mud statue raised its right hand in a sort of wave greeting.

“Ahm puhleshed doe mheat u, Lorhd Dommush,” the mud golem said.

Tom blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand…?”

The mud golem twisted its neck head towards Tizzy.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll translate,” said Tizzy. “It’s speaking universal, but mud golems are not the best at pronouncing human words.” He tilted his head. “Although they are much better at it than Denubians.” The mud golem bobbed its neck/head up and down in agreement.

“So what did it say?”

“Oh, right. It said, ‘I am pleased to meet you, Lord Tommus.’ ” Tizzy said.

“Can it understand me?” Tom asked. The mud golem nodded. Tom smiled. “Pleased to meet you… mud golem.” Tom was not sure if mud golems had names.

“Whahaw. Mah nahmeesh dahmahreen,” the mud golem said.

Tom glanced to Tizzy. Tizzy jumped. “Sorry, forgot. The mud golem laughed and said its name is Tamareen. Or is it Tamarin?” Tizzy asked the mud golem.

“Dahmahrine,” the mud golem said.

“Tamarin, but pronouncing the ‘i’ more like a sort of ‘ee’ sound,” Tizzy said.

“So, Tamarin… It is a pleasure to meet you. How can I help you?” Tom had no idea why a mud golem would want to talk with him, or…never mind. Tom reminded himself that asking too many questions just led to too many more.

“Wa wahn rhe-estahbish rehlaahshons wihdh Doohm.”

“They want to re-establish relations with Mount Doom,” Tizzy said.

The mud golem, Tamarin, nodded its neck/head.

“Okay, so mud golems had relations with Mount Doom in the old days and they want to re-establish them?” Tom supposed that made some sense. Most of Doom was underground, and now that it was raining, there was mud.

“Whahahw whahaw,” the mud demon laughed, and Tizzy joined it.

“Okay, what’s so funny?” Tom asked.

Tizzy shook his head. “You, that’s pretty funny! Wanting to establish relationships with mud golems!”

“It just asked to do that! What’s so funny?” Tom asked, annoyed.

“Mud golems are golems! They are automatons; robots would be the Earth equivalent. They are not sentient in and of themselves!” Tizzy said, still laughing.

“So the owner of the mud golem wants to re-establish relations?” Tom asked.

“Well, no,” Tizzy said hesitantly, looking at the mud golem. “I assume that Tamarin is asking to re-establish relations with Mount Doom on behalf of hir people?” Tamarin nodded its neck/head.

“Tamarin’s people?” Tom nodded, feeling they were getting somewhere finally.

“And who are Tamarin’s people?” Tom asked.

Tizzy gave Tom a look like Tom was crazy. “Why the djinn, of course. I figured you knew that!” Tamarin nodded affirmatively.

“Djinn?” Tom shook his head. “You mean like genies?”

Tizzy twisted his lips a bit. “That is not their favorite term, but that is basically the common phrase for their race.”

Tom shook his head. “So the race of genies—I’m sorry, djinn—want to have diplomatic relations with Mount Doom?”

“I think we’ve been making that pretty clear.” Tizzy looked to Tamarin, who nodded.

“And the djinn had diplomatic relations with Orcus?” Tom asked.

“Indeed, although you do not want to use the word ‘diplomatic’; that will cause a lot of problems. Think of it as a long and mutually beneficial partnership.” Tizzy nodded, as did Tamarin.

“So, this is a good idea?” Tom asked Tizzy.

Tizzy shook his head. “Of course it is! No one in hir right mind would toss a bottle back in the sea or re-bury a lamp in the sand. That would be stupid. If the djinn want to do business with you, you take them up on it!”

Tom closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay, so what do we need to do to establish these relations?”

Tizzy looked to Tamarin. “Ahh neehd ahn ahngohr.”

“Tamarin needs an anchor to this realm,” Tizzy said.

“Okay, how do we find one of those?” Tom asked.

Tizzy shook his head. “An anchor is a person. Typically the king or prince of the realm.”

“So me? I should be the anchor?” Tom asked.

“Exactly!” Tizzy said and Tamarin nodded.

“Okay, so how do I do that?” Tom asked.

Tamarin started speaking very rapidly to Tizzy. Tom could not even try to parse out what it said.