The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) Page 4

  “Yes. I agree,” Tom said.

  “So if your imaginary being was actually real, tangible, then it would be greater than your imaginary being. Yes?”

  “Yes,” Tom said, starting to see where this was going.

  “Thus, if you took your imaginary being, of which nothing greater could be conceived, and it actually were physically real, that real being would be greater than the imaginary being that wasn’t real. Thus, in order to complete your imaginary construct, your imaginary being must be real. Because true reality is greater than a mental construct. Thus, you must believe that your mental construct is real in order for it to be the greatest thing you can conceive of. Thus, if you can believe in such a being, then you must believe it exists in order to be logically consistent with yourself.” Antefalken smiled brightly at Tom as the demon tried to digest this mental bender.

  “So,” Antefalken summed up, “Anselm held that if a sentient being could go through this exercise of conceiving of such a being, they had to believe in its existence. Therefore, one would also have to believe that there were no greater gods than this single god. That all other gods were simply false gods.” He laughed. “As you can imagine, he wasn’t too popular among the priests of any religion.”

  Tom tilted his head; Anselm’s god sort of sounded like the one he was familiar with. “I’m not sure I’m going that far. I am really just looking at good vs. evil and stereotypes. I’m not trying to define what a god is or isn’t. I think people are entitled to their own beliefs as long as they don’t try to impose them on others. I see Talarius as trying to impose his beliefs on me and other demons.”

  Antefalken shrugged. “They do tend to evangelize via the sword.”

  Tom smiled. “Even so, I want to try, however futilely, to change a few of his crazy beliefs. Who knows, maybe he can then help convince others in his religion.”

  Antefalken turned to look at him strangely. “Hmm, you are from one of those monotheistic deist type cultures then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A world with a single god, one who is all powerful and stays above the fray?”

  “I guess. I mean, there is no proof that God exists. People just have to have faith. If they choose.” Tom said.

  “Yeah, well… that’s why your plan might work in your world, but not here,” the bard told Tom. “The gods are not hands-off in Astlan. In fact, they tend to be very hands-on. They are egotistical, power hungry, vain people who bicker and fight among each other and who stir up considerable trouble in the worlds of men.”

  Tom felt the other sick feeling in his stomach return from this morning. The one he had felt when he had first seen the umbilical cords to the sky. “Yeah, those links went somewhere. The gods, so to speak, aren’t real in my world. But apparently they are very real here?” Antefalken nodded; Tom was getting his point. Tom continued his observation. “The mana stream coming from the heavens, or wherever, was extremely purified; possibly flavored, you might even say.” Tom paused for a moment, thinking. “So then Tiernon is an actual person that you can, at least in theory, talk to?” Tom asked.

  Antefalken grinned grimly. “Yeah, Tiernon is very real, as are his avatars; we are probably going to find that out soon enough.”

  Tom got an even worse feeling. “What exactly do you mean?” His stomach was now a total mess. Actually, he wasn’t even sure he had a stomach, but something inside him was upset. He was getting a very sick feeling from this conversation, beyond the feeling of indigestion and of being too wired he had been dealing with.

  Antefalken snorted. “Are you telling me you don’t understand what you did?”

  “Apparently not. At least not completely.”

  Antefalken sighed. “Well, you stole mana dedicated to and destined for Tiernon; and then you actually started using his already collected mana in a way that only very powerful priests are permitted to do.” Tom grimaced. “He is not going to be happy and he’ll most likely send some avatars to investigate.”

  “What are avatars?”

  “Saints, angels, lesser divine beings. Sort of counterparts to demons, I guess. I’m not an expert, but from what I understand, they are sort of like demons in the service of the gods.”

  “Oh. I’m thinking that’s not good,” Tom said. “I suppose they aren’t going to be happy about me abducting their champion either?”

  Antefalken simply flashed him a grin.

  Tom belched, his indigestion starting to turn to nausea.

  ~

  Hilda was close to completing her circumference of the city and the two encampments. She was tired, dirty and sweaty. Her feet were killing her. She could have done a cleaning ritual, but that would have only lasted so long before the forest soiled it again; it simply did not seem worth the bother.

  White silk was just a ridiculous fabric for marching through a forest; Hilda far preferred wool or cotton fleece, but no… avatars of Tiernon had to maintain an appropriate level of graceful appearance. Which, considering she was under the aspects of an invisibility ritual and a silence ritual made no sense whatsoever. Who was going to see it? No one. Who was going to have to clean or repair it? Her, that was who. Argh.

  Hilda was distracted by a rather curious light ahead and to her right, a bit further away from the Rod’s camp. There was the typical sort of flickering of a fire, but also a strange, pale glow. Moreover, there was something else seeming to distort both lights. Clearly something to investigate. Hilda moved cautiously up on the small clearing.

  Okay, that is a bit odd, Hilda thought. As she got closer, the first thing she realized was that there was some sort of light refraction spell around the lights. An invisibility shield, apparently. She’d been using her divine sight and so had not been tricked by the spell. Clearly, something worth investigating. It felt like something a bit beyond the typical sort of spell, something more complex, most likely harder for an ordinary practitioner to see through. Being an avatar, however lowly, did provide some benefits.

  It appeared to be the camp of a single man. He was a rather portly gentleman possibly a few years older than Hilda appeared to be. He was dressed either as a monk or a very unkempt wizard. He was sitting in a hammock chair next to a rather nice folding camp table that held a selection of meats and cheeses, along with a very interesting-looking bottle of wine. The man was reading a book underneath a glowing ball of light. However, what was far more interesting was the fact that the wine was actually labeled and not one’s typical refillable bottle.

  She zoomed in on the bottle with her divine sight: House Darryne: Old Vine Meryst; 405 PV. Hilda sighed; it was an excellent vintage. This man had taste and money. The meats and cheeses also looked delicious. Technically, being an avatar and thus “dead,” she did not need to eat or drink, but old loves were very hard to give up. There was a second chair on the other side of the table.

  Hilda closed her eyes. There was nothing she wanted—no, needed—more at this moment than a place to sit, a bite to eat and a glass of that intoxicating wine. Surely, after her long, fruitless trek around the camp, she was entitled to a small bit of time off? Further, this odd man must clearly be somehow affiliated with the local goings-on. Perhaps a bit of inquiry would not be out of order? Technically, that wasn’t within the scope of her assignment, but how could anyone criticize her for taking the initiative to go beyond her minimal duties?

  Hilda’s divine scent suddenly picked up the aroma of the meats, cheeses and yes, that refreshing hint that could only come from an Old Vine Meryst grape, sacrificed at its most luscious. That settled it. She quickly ran through a series of Seeings and the standard detection rituals.

  There was no hint of the supernatural about him, no demonic influence, no ghosts, undead or other evil stigmata. Actually no darkness beyond normal, forgivable human vices that she could detect. His aura was quite earthy; most likely he was a thaumaturge. He was not of a clerical persuasion; she detected no real sign of excess piety , thus no significant religious affiliation
. He seemed safe. Time to introduce herself.

  ~

  Trisfelt looked up from his novel, a book about a young wizard whose parents had been slain when he was a babe by an evil wizard but whose innate talent had shielded him from the blast that killed his parents, leaving only a scar on his forehead. Trisfelt had a passion for “true crime” stories. His passion however, was being interrupted; something wasn’t quite right. There was a disturbance in one of his wards.

  “Ouch!” someone exclaimed as he felt them bounce up against the low-range repulsion barrier he had set up to keep animals from sneaking in to steal his dinner. “That’s odd, who would put up an invisible wall in the middle of the forest?” a decidedly female voice said.

  Trisfelt put his book down. How could someone have run into his wards? The aversion spells should have subtly caused the person to walk around this area. He shook his head and peered through the trees towards where the noise had come from. It was quite dark outside his camp, and the spells somewhat obscured his vision, but it appeared to be a good-sized woman in a white dress. Trisfelt made gestures and muttered the incantation to temporarily lower the wards.

  “Oh! A campsite!” the voice said. “How unusual.” A woman proceeded forward into the camp, apparently completely fearless. What an odd woman, Trisfelt thought. “Well, hello there!” The oddly bright-eyed and beaming blonde woman smiled cheerfully upon seeing Trisfelt. She was looking around at his camp. “Sorry to barge in; I was in the neighborhood trying to get back to my own camp when I bumped into your invisible wall!”

  Trisfelt blinked. The woman seemed to have an effervescent charm about her, almost radiating joy. Definitely not a normal quality of any of the women around the school. Jehenna, for example, seemed to impose a rather dark cloud on those around her. This woman was wearing a layered white silk dress, only slightly muddied around the hem from tromping through the forest. Her gold-trimmed white slippers, clearly not designed for hiking, were coated with mud. As he’d noted, she was full-bodied; rather voluptuous actually, Trisfelt thought. She had brilliant golden hair that he swore almost glowed on its own and seemed to match her beaming eyes and wide smile.

  “I’m Hilda!” The woman introduced herself, extending a hand to Trisfelt.

  “Uhm, Trisfelt,” he said, shaking her hand after a momentary bit of confusion. “What brings you out into the woods at night?”

  “Well, I’d been at this wedding,” she said, gesturing at her white dress. “Not mine though—I was just a handmaiden and was returning to Freehold, and what do you know? There’s an army around it!”

  “Uh, yes… it’s been there for a while now,” Trisfelt said, puzzled but still a bit flustered by her intensely brilliant smile.

  “Well, it was an alvaren wedding party and as I’m sure you know, those can go on for weeks!” She shook her head, still smiling brightly. “I think it has something to do with them living for thousands of years. Time doesn’t seem to move the same for them as it does for the rest of us.

  “So anyway, not knowing who the army was, and why they seem to have brought a bunch of ships and parked them on the ground hundreds of leagues from the sea, well… it just seemed a bit odd and so I was out scouting around the city to try and figure out what was going on.”

  “Ah, yes.” Trisfelt was at a bit of a loss for words. “Sensible. Yes, sensible indeed. I myself have been keeping an eye on them as well. Very curious.”

  Hilda shook her head smiling. Her eyes moved to his left and widened. “Is that a bottle of Old Vine Meryst? If I’m not mistaken, the label is House Darryne?” Trisfelt blinked. Given the distance to the table, she either had very good eyesight or was very familiar with the house and label.

  “Uhm, yes,” Trisfelt confirmed. “A 405, in fact.”

  “A 405 you say?” Hilda’s mouth twitched in an appreciating manner. “An excellent year. The next three years were much too wet and the wine was a bit mineral-heavy. Not bad, mind you, but nothing like the 405 or the 402. The 396 was possibly the best, but the 405 does give it a good run for the money.”

  Trisfelt felt a strange, indescribable feeling in his gut. A woman who knew her wine as well as he did? He smiled back at her brightly. “My dear… where are my manners? You’ve been trudging through this dark nasty forest all night. Perhaps you would like to have a rest and enjoy a glass with me? I have a few snacks as well…”

  Hilda grinned even more brightly than before. “Master Trisfelt, aren’t you the gentleman? I would be most grateful to sit for a bit and share your company.”

  ~

  A knock came on Elrose’s door, as he had been expecting. The sorcerer rose from his chair and went to answer it. The seer Maelen was there, arriving per his request. “Thank you for joining me,” Elrose said. He stepped back and gestured for Maelen to enter.

  Maelen smiled. “My pleasure. After all, before things went crazy, it was you I was coming to see. We finally get to confer.”

  Elrose shook his head and smiled grimly as he shut the door. “I apologize; I haven’t had much time since I finally made it into the city, with your assistance.”

  “No need, no need. I’ve been here the whole time and have seen the very… er… I have no words to describe what it is that’s been going on.” Maelen threw up his hands.

  Elrose chuckled. “Can I get you some wine?” he asked. “Normally, I don’t drink alcohol, but I started again after today’s screening, and I’m not quite ready to stop.”

  Now it was Maelen’s turn to chuckle. “I could certainly use a glass for my nerves,” he replied.

  Elrose smiled and gestured the seer to an overstuffed chair next to a small table, adjacent to the sorcerer’s own overstuffed chair, where a glass of wine had been already poured. Elrose retrieved another wine glass and the wine bottle from a small cart.

  Maelen sat down as Elrose began to speak while pouring the seer a glass of wine. “Well, it appears that the visions of battle I had, which I wanted to discuss with you, are already upon us.” Maelen nodded in agreement with the obvious. “I also noted,” the sorcerer continued, setting the wine bottle down on the table between their chairs, “that your reaction to the name of the third occupant of the magic carpet was similar to my own.”

  Maelen shook his head in consternation, remembering his reaction. Elrose sat down in his chair. “I had never heard that name before, but as soon as I did, I was struck by a series of very intense visions,” Maelen said.

  Elrose raised an eyebrow. “Really? My shock was that I had heard the name, and seen her face… or at least her aspect with the head of a cat, in my prior scrying.”

  Maelen moved his head from side to side, thinking. “Clearly she is critical. Apparently more critical than Ramses the Damned. Which, in and of itself, is disturbing. I was shocked when I first heard the name Ramses mentioned in the hallway with Exador for us, but I received no strong sense of dread or prescient visions with his name. With her name, though…” the seer trailed off uncertainly.

  “What exactly did you see?” Elrose asked.

  Maelen shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. It was extremely intense. There was a rapid series of images—her face, a sphinx, incredibly verdant valleys, blood everywhere, and massacres. People dying, murdered perhaps, I would say. I saw the Rod, although with very different uniforms than they wear today. It didn’t make a lot of sense.”

  Elrose stared at the seer, intent on his words. Maelen continued, “I don’t know, the uniforms may indicate the Rod some time ago. I can’t imagine they’d be changing their uniforms in the same time frame your visions seem to be occurring in.”

  “What about demons?” Elrose asked.

  Maelen twisted his mouth around a bit, thinking. “Yes, I got the feeling of demons, but not connected to the Rod directly, at least not in those scenes. But again, there were lots of demons, perhaps an army. However, they were more like thought than reality. It was rather tenuous. Perhaps a side possibility?” He shook his head in frustration. “It wa
s very odd, extremely intense. And lots of anger. Actually, that might be part of what struck me; the sheer fury associated with the images.”

  Maelen looked thoughtfully at Elrose. “What did it spur in your memory?”

  “In my original scrying, she had been there as a background figure. Her presence did seem to get stronger in some visions after Lenamare summoned the greater demon. As did images, or rather symbols, of the various Etonian gods.”

  “Symbols or images?” Maelen asked, puzzled.

  Elrose shrugged. “Not clear. Whenever I deal with the actions of the gods or get close to them, I seem to see their key symbols or flashes of pictures I’ve seen from paintings of their exploits and teachings. I never seem to get a direct lock on a deity in the way I would a person, or even a demon. It’s very hazy and inexact.”

  Maelen nodded. “I typically see various colored clouds with a strong sense or feeling of the deity, and it’s as if the deity is blurry or cloudy.”

  “I suppose one wouldn’t want to actually look upon the face of a god.” Elrose took a good swallow of wine.

  Maelen frowned at this and picked up his glass, taking a large sip himself before nodding in agreement. He sighed as he set his wine glass down again. “I think it’s beyond time that you and I go over what you’ve seen in detail, and I’ll fill you in on what some of our seers have seen as well.”

  “Agreed. I also think we should make some enquiries of Trevin tomorrow about this Bastet person.”

  “Agreed.” Maelen nodded.

  “While I have never heard of her, Trevin says she’s from Natoor. As you may know, my family came to Norelon from there a few generations back. My first instructor in sorcery, his father was from Natoor. Thankfully he’s still alive, albeit quite old; he might be of some assistance on this as well,” Elrose told Maelen.

  At that moment, a knock came at the door.