The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) Read online

  Tizzy brought the knight down onto a plateau jutting out from the side of one of the rather gravitationally impossible cylindrical stone pillars that rose a mile or more out of a seemingly barren plane. Tom really had to wonder who designed this place. Obviously it was some really demented science fiction writer or something.

  The plateau was about twenty feet in diameter, just sufficiently big that they could all land on it: Tizzy with Talarius, Rupert, Tom and Antefalken the bard. Tom looked over at the bard, who was putting his harp away; he had been using it to bat away arrows when they had been banished from the city.

  “How do you keep the wood from drying out?” Tom suddenly asked. “I’d think this place would literally be Hell on it.” Immediately, he bit his tongue. What exactly was it he had told Antefalken? Was he showing ignorance? Crap, these lies just kept piling up and now, he was so exhausted he couldn’t keep up with them.

  The bard smiled mischievously. “It’s Denubian wyrmwood. It is quite at home in this environment. Takes a bit of Denubian worm slime now and then, but that’s it,” the demon said, either not noticing or purposefully ignoring the slip.

  “Same place as the Choco-Coffee?” Rupert asked.

  Antefalken shook his head. “You forgot the TM. Denubian Choco-CoffeeTM,” Antefalken corrected. “The Denubians get very picky about their trademarks.”

  “Sorry,” Rupert said.

  “No problem, it’s no biggie out here, but if you were in the city and one of their lawyers heard you…” Antefalken shook his head. “I think the Denubians must somehow be related to the Oorstemothians. They have similar perspectives when it comes to the law.” Antefalken stroked his beard in thought. “Although, come to think of it, most Denubians I’ve met have more than one mouth—so I’m sure they’re even better at double speak and triple speak than the Oorstemothians.” He frowned, thinking about it, and then grinned and winked at Rupert.

  Talarius was swiveling his head, and thus his helmet, back and forth between the two demons, trying to follow their absurd conversation. Tom smiled; he was sure the knight didn’t expect demons to talk like normal people.

  “How long are you planning on holding me hostage here?” the knight suddenly demanded.

  “Until Fierd sets in the sky,” Tizzy replied.

  “At the end of the day then? That soon?”

  Antefalken grinned broadly at Tizzy and Rupert.

  The knight made a gesture of frustration. “And when is that?”

  Antefalken shook his head in mild surprise and looked at the knight. “It doesn’t; there is no Fierd here, so it never sets in the Abyss. I would have thought you knew that.”

  The knight groaned. “You seriously can’t expect to keep me here forever!”

  “Why not?” Tizzy asked, turning to more directly face the knight.

  The knight simply stared at him. “Why would you? Either you will ransom me, or you will kill me.”

  Tizzy shook his head as if not understanding. “Why couldn’t we just keep you here and torture you for eternity? It is kind of what we demons do, you know.”

  The knight shuddered slightly, but had nothing to say.

  “That is what you believe, isn’t it?” Tom asked the knight.

  The knight turned and sighed. “Yes, it is. Get on with it then.”

  “You really are as nutty as a wizard,” Tom told him. “We are not going to torture you.”

  “We aren’t?” Tizzy whined loudly. “But Tooohhhmmm!” The shrill demon started pouting.

  Tom shook his head with a big grin on his face, but seeing the knight blanch under his helmet, he stopped grinning. To be fair, he was not completely sure Tizzy was joking. “No, I’m sorry Tizzy; we’ve just brought Talarius here so he could find out what the Abyss is really like. What demons are really like.”

  “Like a field trip!” Rupert exclaimed.

  “Exactly.” Tom gave the boy a pat on the shoulder.

  “Okay, I’ve seen it.” The knight gestured around. “It’s a lovely place. Can I go now?”

  “Hah, hah,” Antefalken said. “You aren’t getting off that easy. It is a big plane with lots of places to go and you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until you see the salt mines!”

  “So, back to my original question. How long, demon?” The knight was getting rather imperious again.

  “As long as it takes; maybe two or three centuries, maybe a thousand years or more,” Tom snapped.

  The knight dropped his hands at that. “Well, the joke is on you then. I’m a human; I won’t live that long.”

  Tizzy laughed hilariously, and the knight turned to glare at him. “Joke’s on you, lad. Humans don’t age or die here, not if they are kept at a reasonable temperature and in a less toxic region where their flesh won’t dissolve, or unless they get evaporated by a really big demon or similar, but that’s a risk we all take. That’s how we can torture them for so long. They regenerate, just like demons!”

  The knight blanched within his helmet.

  “Actually, Sir Talarius,” Antefalken said to the knight, “Given that you are here—and you have to obey the same rules as us—to all intents and purposes, you are a demon now.”

  The knight stared at the bard. And stared. And then stared some more. He finally shook his head. “Your lies are pathetic.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Tom said. “Most humans would expire and decay in this environment, which is how they would die here, but your armor keeps you alive and fairly invulnerable. I am thinking Antefalken is correct.”

  “Well then, I’ll just take my armor off,” the knight stated.

  “You can try, but you won’t,” Antefalken told him.

  “You don’t think I can stand the pain?” the knight sneered at him.

  “No, I think you could; but if you do that then you abandon hope.”

  “What need have I of hope? I am cursed in this wretched place.”

  “I don’t know, but what does your god tell you? If you die here, your soul ends here, and you will never join those you love in the afterlife with Tiernon. On the other hand, if you keep your armor on, stay alive, you will always have the hope of returning to Astlan to die there and ascend to the heaven you have been promised. Correct?” Antefalken asked the knight.

  The knight stared at the small demon. He was silent for a long time. “You know, I think you are the most devious of all these demons.” He gestured to the others.

  “Why, thank you!” The bard took a bow.

  Chapter 82

  Damien came to their doors and gathered Jenn, Gastropé and Maelen. “I have to show the council something that I think you are going to want to see.” The wizard was looking visibly shaken.

  “What’s up?” Gastropé asked.

  “You’ll see. What I’m showing everyone will speak for itself; I’ll answer what questions I can afterwards.”

  Damien led the three to a mid-sized auditorium, where the rest of the council was arriving. They took seats and Damien pointed out various council members as they arrived. “I believe you have met Lord Gandros?” They nodded. “Beside him is Alexandros Mien.” Gastropé sucked in his breath, impressed by the legend. “The gentlemen near them are various associates of theirs.”

  Damien pointed a little ways over. “Obviously, you know Lenamare, Jehenna and Zilquar and their associates,” he said as he gestured at Hortwell, Elrose and Zilquar’s people. There was no sign of Master Trisfelt.

  “That is Sier Bavron of Yorkton and his closest advisors. Next is Tureledor, Archimage of Tureledor.”

  Jenn looked askance at Damien. “His given name is the same as his title name?”

  Damien grinned. “Hereditary tradition. I don’t know how fathers and sons refer to each other.” He pointed down further and went on, “Davron of Markforton with two of his people, and now entering the room is Randolf of Turelane, with whom you are probably both familiar.” Gastropé nodded. Jenn shrugged; she had heard of him. Exador theoretically worked for him.
r />   “And behind him and his two aides is Trevin D’Vils, Enchantress of the Grove, and her maidens.” Jenn frowned; the woman was way too old to be wearing that sort of outfit.

  Randolf spoke to Lord Gandros, but did so in such a loud voice that everyone could hear. “I fear, my Chancellor Arcane, Councilor Exador is indisposed at the moment and won’t be able to attend.” There were a number of murmurs at this.

  Sir Bastion, the Lord Chairman of the Council of Magistrates, who was there on behalf of the magistrates, spoke up. “This is a very critical meeting, My Lord Archimage; we have requested all to attend.”

  Randolf nodded, acknowledging the point. “Unfortunately, he’s been called off to handle some issues for me in Turelane.”

  “I thought you said he was indisposed,” Trevin D’Vils snapped as she seated herself.

  Randolf turned gingerly to face her and sort of grimaced or simpered or something at her. “My apologies, Enchantress… a poor word choice on my behalf. I had hoped to avoid bringing up my issues at home and so chose words that added to the confusion. My sincerest apologies.”

  Jenn whispered into Gastropé’s ear, “Is it just me, or is he slimy?”

  Gastropé shook his head and whispered back, “No, he’s very slimy. I think he is actually a toad that Exador turned into an Archimage. He’s done the reverse often enough, so why not?”

  Jenn giggled softly to herself. Damien overheard them and gave them a rueful grin.

  Gandros stood to address the gathering. “Very well, then, I think we are all here. Due to its sensitivity and arcane nature, Lord Chairman Bastion is going to view this on behalf of the Council of Magistrates and will decide whether to show it to them. What you are about to see is, well, rather disturbing.”

  He gestured to Damien, who stood up. “Damien ventured out today after the purge to reopen discussions with the Oorstemothians and the Rod, and to ascertain the state of affairs after we dumped a demon horde on them,” Lord Gandros explained.

  Lenamare spoke up. “I do hope you know we appreciate your fortitude in your willingness to deal with these groups.” He made a small shudder.

  Jenn raised her eyebrow; that statement seemed very uncharacteristic of Lenamare. However, he was probably feeling very magnanimous after having pulled off a rather unthinkable level of wizardry, of which everyone in the room was aware.

  “Thank you, Councilor.” Damien bowed his head to Lenamare. Damien proceeded down the steps to a pedestal at the base of the auditorium, lifting a small bag from his waist. “Before I go into too much detail, I want to show you a balling that was made for distribution by the Oorstemothians. This,” he held up a crystal ball from the small bag, “contains a copy of a Viewing recorded by Wing Arms Master Heron’s personal sorcerer.” He set the ball down on a mount in the pedestal.

  “Now, first, some background. Lord Alexandros ventured out yesterday to negotiate us more time and to alert the Rod and the Sky Fleet of our plans. They devised a scheme to deal with the demons fleeing the city.”

  “You mean kill or dispose of them,” Davron interjected.

  Damien shook his head. “As best they could.”

  “Better than them heading down the road to our cities,” Sier Barvon of Yorktown stated emphatically.

  “Indeed,” Damien concurred.

  “As we know, we were inadvertently playing host to several archdemons and likely a few greater demons.” There were a few gasps from around the room from those who hadn’t realized how severe the problem had been.

  “Did we drive out the archdemons?” Trevin asked.

  “We believe so; but that’s complicated.”

  “Can’t Talarius fly over and look again?” Tureledor asked. “That’s what he did before, right?”

  “I think it best if we watch the ball, and then I’ll tell you what else I know.” Damien gestured and the room lights went down. He waved his hand over the ball and the air above it lit up with a frozen vision of the Rod’s encampment.

  “As I said, this was taken by Heron’s personal sorcerer. Given what we all know of the Oorstemothians, I have no doubts as to its authenticity.” Damien made some gestures to zoom in on the scene.

  “My demon!” Lenamare exclaimed, nearly standing up and pointing to the demon currently frozen in the air.

  “What’s with that miniature version of him over there?” Jehenna wondered.

  “Isn’t that your demon, Damien?” Bastion asked Damien, referring to the smallest demon.

  “I’m afraid so. As you see, this affects many of us in the room personally.”

  “Gastropé!” Jehenna suddenly spoke up. “Isn’t that your ugly demon there as well?”

  “Apparently,” said Gastropé, looking extra-pale in the dark of the room.

  “As I said, let’s proceed; we can go back and watch it over again as much as needed afterward, but I think we want to get the full event shown first,” Damien said.

  “Very well, proceed,” Gandros ordered. Damien waved his hand. The knight Talarius was speaking to the smaller version of Lenamare’s demon. Jenn had no idea where the small demon had come from. She had wondered where that Tom demon had been; apparently he was in the palace all along.

  As the video started, the smaller demon was saying, “…I’ll be able to put up a fight.”

  “I don’t think it will be that much of a fight; I’ve taken your measure once before, demon,” Talarius told the smaller demon.

  Lenamare’s greater demon came in for a landing. He still gave Jenn a queasy feeling. “Well then,” the big demon boomed, “How about fighting an adult? Man to man, rather than slaughtering children for sport?” There was some consternation in the room; it sounded like others found this statement as disturbing as Jenn.

  [Transcript of Greater Demon vs. Knight Rampant of Tiernon; Freehold]

  Jenn soon ceased to think or question; all she could do was watch in horrified fascination along with the rest of the room as the scene played out as it had that morning. As the events unfolded, there were various gasps and an occasional cheer, but mostly ahhhs and indrawn breaths, particularly towards the end.

  The viewing ended and everyone sat there in silence. It was beyond shocking; Jenn wondered if the entire Council of Wizardry had ever been rendered speechless before.

  “So, Lenamare,” Davron spoke up. “How sure are you that you summoned a type IV demon?”

  “Uhm…” Lenamare said, sweat visible on his brow. “Uh...” Jenn nearly choked; she had never seen Lenamare so speechless.

  Trevin snapped, “Stop teasing Lenamare, Davron.” She shook her head. “Are we in any way agreed on what we might have seen? Obviously, we have no wizard’s sight view of the event—it is just a visual recording—but given the behavior of the priests, it appears that Lenamare’s demon linked up with… what, five high priests and hijacked their divine links? The links between themselves and their flocks? And then at the end, the healing mana and the artifact… Was it pulling mana from the heavens? From Tiernon’s own infrastructure? Is that what we saw?”

  The room suddenly burst into pandemonium as people tried to voice their opinions on what they saw. “Excuse me. Excuse me!” Alexandros Mien spoke up, and everyone else quieted down. “I’m sorry, but before we debate that, could I have you back up to the point shortly after Lenamare’s demon hit the ground with its limbs chopped off?”

  Damien nodded.

  “Thank you, dear boy,” the elderly wizard said. Damien backed up to the point when the type IV hit the ground. “Now, stop—good. I want you to zoom out and scroll up and to the right. See there up in the air, above the fight, over the camp.” There were whispers; no one seemed to know what the old wizard wanted to see.

  “Zoom in if you can.” Damien zoomed in as the wizard nodded in confirmation of what he had seen. The small object in the sky was a flying carpet with people on it—three people.

  “Oh, shit,” Gandros stated slowly. The rest of the room gasped as well. On the flying carpet, a
pparently having a picnic, were Councilor Exador, an extremely dark-skinned woman in a revealing dress, and a man wearing leather straps with two straight-edged, single-sided blades over his shoulders.

  There were gasps in the room.

  Maelen said aloud, “Ramses the Damned.”

  “Bastet, Defender of Home,” Trevin D’Vils stated equally loudly.

  Maelen suddenly made a noise like he’d just swallowed wrong. Jenn glanced over at him; he was staring straight ahead and was looking extremely pale for some reason. She hoped he was okay.

  “Exador?” Randolf exclaimed. Chatter broke out again.

  “Silence, one at a time!” Lord Gandros exclaimed, and everyone quieted down. “Very well, first things first. Thanks to Maelen here”—he pointed to Maelen, who seemed to be pulling himself back together quickly—“we were suspicious that Ramses the Damned might be wandering in the Palace. Now we have that confirmed.” There was a lot of talk among various associates with their Council members confirming this. Randolf, of course, had heard none of this and was looking particularly flustered.

  “Enough, let us continue,” Gandros stated. “It is becoming clear who our archdemons are, or were.” Randolf sputtered, but Gandros waved him down.

  “Trevin, what was the name you mentioned?” Gandros asked.

  “Bastet, Defender of Home,” Trevin D’Vils stated. “She is, or rather was, a goddess worshipped on the continent of Natoor, on the far side of Eton, more than a thousand years ago. She is from the forgotten Nyjyr Ennead pantheon. She was a defender of house and home, a protector of her people. She was considered a good goddess, not evil. She is definitely not an archdemon. The Etonians displaced them; their troops and knights drove the religion underground. As far as I know, no one has worshipped them in close to a thousand years.”

  “So how do you know this?” Davron asked.

  “I travel. Archaeology is a hobby of mine, and I’m always fascinated by powerful female goddesses.” Trevin shrugged. “I’ve seen her likeness on many old scrolls and stone carvings. She often appears like this, and sometimes with the head of a cat. A black cat.”

  “Cat? Why a cat?” Randolf asked.