The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) Page 21

  No one ever talked about what happens after you ride into the sunset and then the sun sets. Or, as in this case, Fierd sets. Did the happy couple find a cozy inn and settle down to a nice stew and some bread? Or did they end up slogging through a marshy swampland or, worse maybe, a desert.

  That was basically how he felt. He had had the triumphant victory and now he felt like there should be more. But more what? He had now dug himself into a situation where he had avatars of Tiernon hunting him down, and probably a few archdemons hunting him down as well. Well, certainly there was Lilith; she was more than an archdemon, and she was not so much hunting him as inviting him over.

  He had pretty much ruled out her invitation. He was fairly sure he would simply end up being her hostage. He had to assume he could not really trust any of the old-guard demons here. They had been around too long and were too used to playing games with others. He needed to keep his independence; he actually needed to get a team together, some sort of Scooby gang or similar.

  Technically, he supposed he had that with Rupert, Reggie, Boggy, Tizzy, Antefalken, Estrebrius and maybe even Vaselle. Of course, he had to laugh because they were a demonic Scooby gang fighting off both the Forces of Good and the Forces of Evil. What was that then? The Forces Of Other?

  Tom blinked. He had been so lost in his own thoughts, he had almost missed seeing a figure sitting on a nearby mountaintop. Actually, it was very close, since he did not need to use demon sight to see the person. Tom turned in midair to look at the person again, circling the mountaintop.

  What he was seeing was quite odd indeed. On the top of this mountain peak was a relatively flat, rocky space about thirty feet by ten feet, from which a smaller outcropping of rock about eight feet high and three foot in diameter projected at an angle. On top of that outcropping of rock sat a young man in hiking gear, wearing a Swiss hiker’s hat. He appeared to be eating a sandwich.

  While something one might expect to see in the Alps, or even the Appalachians, Tom supposed, in the Abyss this was definitely odd. The hiker appeared to be completely human, in his early twenties, with red hair and what might have been a nicely trimmed beard that had not been groomed in several days. Exactly what one would expect from someone hiking in mountains on Earth. Puzzled, Tom flew in closer.

  “Hello?” Tom called to the hiker.

  The hiker, who oddly had not seemed to have noticed Tom fly by, looked up at his call and after a moment or two, waved at him in greeting.

  Tom flew in closer and finally landed on the main summit of the mountain. Indeed, the hiker was wearing something very similar to Alpen hiking gear. Corduroy shorts, white striped socks, hiking boots on his lower body and a light tan polo with suspenders on his upper body. He also had quite a bit of gear—ropes, pitons and climbing gloves—attached to him. There was also a rope on the main summit leading down over the edge. It was as if this rather odd, and very human person had actually climbed the peak.

  “Greetings!” the hiker said with a friendly smile.

  “Hello,” Tom said uncertainly. “So you are doing a bit of mountain climbing, I see?”

  “Indeed.” The hiker smiled and took another bite of what appeared to be a baloney sandwich. From beside him he then brought up a can of Mountain Dew and took a sip to wash his sandwich down. That made Tom raise an eyebrow. Yes, the mountaintop was cool, but how would one get a can of soda even to this point in the Abyss, short of magic?

  “I’m Tom.” Tom said. He was not sure if he should stick out his hand or not. Given their size differences, he figured not doing so would be best.

  The hiker nodded and grinned. “Nice to meet you. I am Sam.”

  “So did you climb all the way up the mountain?” Tom gestured to the rope.

  Sam nodded. “I did.”

  “Well, that would be good exercise. I guess,” Tom said. This was extremely weird; Tom was not sure how to proceed.

  “So, are you from around here?” Tom asked, gesturing around the mountains.

  “I have a getaway cave a few leagues over.” Sam made a motion with his chin in a direction roughly opposite of Tom’s cave. “I work in the Courts most of the time, but I like to get away now and then, do some hiking and climbing. I also go skiing now and then.” Sam had set his can of soda down and could now gesture freely, and he waved towards the distant, snowcapped mountains.

  “Really?” Tom asked, surprised.

  “Yes, it is pretty cold up there, and the snow is rather acidic. It is not water based. You need to have appropriate clothing or demon hide.”

  “That sounds fun, though,” Tom said, nodding. It did sound fun.

  “It is, and no lift lines, if you have wings.” Sam smiled and nodded to Tom’s large wings. “Although I don’t know if they make ski bindings for hooves.” He looked down at Tom’s hooves. “I ski down in this form with a protective suit and then change and fly up in my winged form.”

  “I’ll have to go sometime. Is there a skiing store in the Courts?” Tom asked.

  “There are exactly two places with ski equipment. Von Trapp is a general outdoor and mountaineering store, and the Slippery Slope is a climbing and skiing store,” Sam said.

  “So, were you just passing through or do you live around here?” Sam asked Tom.

  “I live a few valleys over.” Tom gestured towards his cave. “I was just out stretching my wings; I’ve got a lot of company and needed to get away for a bit.”

  Sam grinned. “I know how that goes. That is why I have my getaway cave. At work, I’m surrounded by clamoring demons always full of crazy ideas, plans for world domination; you know, the usual.”

  “People at your work plan on world domination?” Tom asked.

  “Well, they are demons, after all. It is really just talk; they never actually specify which world they are planning to dominate. If they did that, they would actually have to explain exactly how they intended to do it in concrete terms. Thus, such ideas never make it past the office acid cooler.”

  “Put up or shut up, then?” Tom asked.

  Sam grinned. “Exactly. And since they will do neither, I like to get away have some old-fashioned fun.”

  “I should think of that. It would probably be a good way to get rid of stress,” Tom said.

  Sam smiled. “You know it! That is why I do it, and in a close-to-human form, where I have to actually work to climb, no giant muscles or anything. I want to feel the strain, the pain of aching muscles afterwards. While climbing, I can focus only on climbing and when I’m finished, my aching muscles tell me I have accomplished something.”

  “That really does sound good,” Tom said, nodding.

  “Well then, Tom. Perhaps the next time I go climbing I will stop by and see if you want to join me.” Sam tilted his head and looked inquiringly at Tom.

  “That would be great. I think I’d like that!” Tom said with a grin.

  ~

  “Well, Trevin, I grant you this is worth our discussion.” Ariel shook his head in disbelief.

  “Which part? The demon stealing god magic, reversing a holy artifact and taking an Etonian knight hostage? Or the fact that the Nyjyr Ennead are not only back, but apparently forming alliances with demons? Or the fact that the deity whose mana was stolen is also the one most responsible for evicting the Nyjyr Ennead from this and other nearby planes?” Duranor asked.

  “I’m not completely up on the history here; some of us do not live forever,” Taergon said.

  “Dwarves don’t live forever, just a few hundred years,” Ariel noted disdainfully.

  Duranor gave the alfar a glare. “Some people know to not outstay their welcome.”

  “Enough, you two,” Elraith chastised them. “Ariel, you were a seated elder when the Nyjyr Ennead were driven off, correct?” Elraith asked.

  “Yes. My sister and I take turns, as you know. I was seated at that time. As was Trevin,” Ariel said.

  Trevin gave him a small glare for revealing her age.

  Elraith chuckled. “
No need to hide it, my dear. While I was not seated at that point, I do remember that you were.”

  “Helspaeth, your mentor was the senior elder at the time,” Trevin noted.

  Elraith nodded. “She was as old then as I am now. So I suppose there is some justice.”

  “We should have done more when their priests asked for aid. You know gods don’t forgive easily,” Trevin said.

  “I find it curious that Bastet herself would be involved. Gods never involve themselves,” Ariel noted.

  “Could it be an avatar that simply looks like her mistress?” Duranor asked.

  “Weird choice. Did you notice how hairy she was?” Daphne asked.

  “I know, eeesh! Someone get the poor girl a razor!” Chloe replied.

  Satyricus shrugged. “Personally, I find all the fur intriguing.”

  “Since you aren’t being forthcoming, I’ll get to my point. When was this?” Taergon asked.

  “About the same time the Vargosite Empire formed,” Duranor told him.

  “How exactly do you know that? You could not have been alive then; that was a thousand years ago,” Satyricus asked, puzzled. “Even I had not been born yet, and I’m pretty sure I am older than you.”

  Duranor shrugged. “My people have long memories and even longer tales.” He stroked his long beard.

  Taergon laughed and replied, “You mean face tails!”

  Duranor smiled at the joke and nodded. “Precisely. However, there is a bit more to it. Many of my people are miners, as you know, and metalworkers and artisans. Many of us, myself included, worship Hephaestus, god of the forge, craftsmen and our people.”

  “I’m familiar with your god.” Taergon shrugged. “I don’t see the connection.”

  “Hephaestus is, or was, a member of the Triad of Memphis. In that manifestation he was known as pêTah and one of the Nyjyr Ennead.”

  “So Hephaestus, who is still actively worshipped by your people, was actually also one of the Nyjyr Ennead? I had thought them all driven from Astlan, Etterdam, Nysegard and Romdan?” Elraith asked the dwarf.

  Duranor chuckled. “The Etonians and their clerics aren’t the brightest, and they’ve never really paid my people much heed or respect. In short, they never bothered to investigate. For which my people are, I suppose, grateful. But I can assure you, the Etonian clergy can be even more grateful, as it would have been a bloody battle and their casualties far greater than those of the Natoorians and the Najaarans.”

  Ariel remained silent but his left eyebrow rose slightly as if in doubt. Elraith supposed the eyebrow twitch was required whenever an alvaren prince heard one of the Modgriensofarthgonosefren boast of their people’s prowess in battle, particularly given that such legendary prowess was well deserved and something the alvar did not like to acknowledge. He hoped it would not be tested.

  “So then, the Nyjyr Ennead still have a foothold in Astlan?” Satyricus asked.

  “One must think; although none of our lore discusses them much.” Duranor shrugged.

  “Fine enough,” Taergon said, “but I’m still trying to piece this together. I gather the Nyjyr Ennead are, or were, the gods of the people of Natoor and Najaar?”

  “And a few other adjacent regions.” Trevin nodded. “As well as having strong bases in what we would call the localverse: Astlan, Etterdam, Nysegard, Avalon, Targella and Romdan. I believe they may have been on many other planes as well, but I can really only speak the worlds we here intersect with.” Trevin gestured to their surroundings, meaning the Grove and the planes to which it was permanently attached.

  “They were on Earth at one point as well, before the bridge was destroyed,” Ariel said.

  “Then they were widespread,” Elraith observed.

  “Earth?” Taergon asked.

  “A very distant set of planes that we used to be able to get to indirectly through Avalon. However, that connection was lost during Ragnarök,” Trevin said.

  “So this relates to the Nyjyr Ennead and the god-mana wielding demon how?” Taergon asked.

  “In no way that I’m aware of.” Ariel shrugged. “You just wanted context on the Nyjyr Ennead. They were a large, widespread religion that basically made some bonehead moves and began dying out as a religion, and the Etonians moved in and started destroying their temples, killing their priests and converting their worshipers.”

  Trevin shrugged and nodded. “That’s basically it. Their priests came to us, asking for our help. The elders at the time, Ariel and myself included, thought it was simply a normal turf war.”

  Ariel made a rather sour expression. “We did not anticipate the level of brutality and the thoroughness at the time. The Etonians had been making inroads for quite some time and setting up a long-term game plan that essentially drove Nyjyr Ennead from the localverse completely. I thought they had gone extinct.”

  Taergon shuddered at such a thought. “What happens to gods with no worshipers?”

  “I have no idea.” Trevin shrugged. “However, the balling we just watched seems to imply that at least a few of them are still around and they are aligning with demons, one of which is able to steal mana from Tiernon himself.”

  “Which brings us, I suppose, to your guests?” Elraith asked Trevin.

  “Yes, the two seers have independently seen an epic conflict coming between the gods, demons and everyone else caught in the middle.”

  “If the Nyjyr Ennead can turn Tiernon’s own magic against him, then that would completely change the landscape,” Duranor noted.

  “Given that there was a demon army hidden inside Freehold, undetected, where else could they have a second demon army stationed?” Ariel asked. He looked slightly perturbed for an alfar, Elraith thought.

  Chapter 92

  Bess rematerialized in an alley three blocks over from Exador’s high-rise. She had no desire to let anyone see her shape-change and suspect what she was up to; better to fake a teleportation and change form during translocation. She looked down at her scaly, digitigrade, clawed feet and long serpent’s tail. Her finger claws were about four inches long. She had a svelte yet full-figured female form with reflective green and dark red scales, long black hair on top of a relatively normal-looking human face, albeit finely scaled as well , all topped by two pointy, slightly curved, dark green horns.

  She knew the form well; it was her succubus disguise. Of all her non-cat forms, this was probably her favorite. It was ideal when she wanted to slum it as a type III demon. Hmm, that reminded her: she needed to concentrate on making sure her aura was appropriate to her assumed station. After a few self-inspections of her aura, she was satisfied and headed to the bar.

  She had arranged to meet her favorite avatar there. Admittedly, they were meeting where he was working undercover. Through the swinging wooden doors she strode, noting that a few demons did eye her lasciviously, which was nice. However, none paid her to too much attention. At least none beyond what her current disguise warranted.

  Where was he? Ah, there he was. A young, slim demon with a human torso of ebony and the thighs, legs and tail of a horse. His head was human except for some very large incisors and curly horns twisting from the sides of his temples. His black, tightly curled hair was neatly trimmed on his head. He was lugging a basket filled with mugs to the back of the bar. Bess sauntered over and sat down at the bar as he set his load down.

  “What does a demoness have to do to get a drink around here?” Bess asked playfully.

  Tut looked up in surprise, having not recognized his mistress in this form. He quickly started to bow and Bess slapped her claw down on his arm in a warning not to do so in public. She shook her head.

  “Mistress, I’m sorry; I didn’t recognize you,” Tut said softly and nervously.

  “Obviously not.” Bess grinned and looked down to the demon’s groin, which was reacting to her succubus disguise. Tut quickly moved to cover himself.

  “Mistress, I’m so sorry. I meant no disrespect,” Tut murmured, embarrassed.

 
“Tut, tut, my lad.” Bess tilted her head, she loved saying that. “It’s all part of the disguise.” Maybe she should incorporate that feature into some of her other forms. It could be useful. She looked around the room to ensure they were not being overheard. Thinking better of it, she quickly ringed them in a veil of silence. If no one was staring directly at them, they probably would not notice the veil.

  “So, I assume you are aware of the duel in Astlan between the Etonian knight and the greater demon?” Bess asked.

  “Everyone is talking about it; a great victory!” Tut said, smiling. Like his mistress, he held only a divine fury in his heart for the Etonians.

  “It was indeed. But what do people know about this greater demon and his entourage?”

  Tut shrugged. “Unfortunately, not a great deal. Although Marfaenel claims the greater demon has actually been here, in this bar, no one really believes him.”

  Bess shrugged. It was kind of a dive bar for someone that powerful, but it was clear this demon was playing a deep game, as was she. “Nothing more?”

  “Well, some demons have said that Tizzy was in the demon’s entourage, and others claim the bard Antefalken.”

  “Tisdale? The octopodal basket case?” Tut nodded.

  Bess thought back to the fight. She had not paid much attention to the demon’s followers. They had spent much of the fight under that net. However, it was quite likely; that pest was everywhere. They had not had the outpost completed but a day when he showed up there, in the highly secret middle of nowhere Abyss location… with a giant batch of cookies to welcome them to the neighborhood! Bess shook her head.

  “Who is this bard you mentioned?” she asked.

  “Antefalken. I gather he’s a rather famous demon bard,” Tut said. “I have seen him in here on occasion, but I have never spoken with him.”

  “Well known, you say?” Bess asked. Tut simply nodded. Bess twisted her mouth, thinking. “Does he have any particular allegiances, patrons?”