03- The Apostles of Doom Page 61

  Trisfelt quickly seconded the toast. Lenamare gave a nod of appreciation and raised his glass, as did Jehenna with a polite smile.

  “It was the least we could do for someone who has been so helpful to the Council,” Lenamare said.

  Jehenna sipped her wine and raised one eyebrow in surprised appreciation of the wine’s excellent taste and texture. Setting it down gently, she smiled more brightly. “How long did you say you would be away?” she asked.

  Hilda sighed and shook her head. “It’s a war—a siege, in fact—something we have all learned way too much about recently.” She nodded towards Lenamare in acknowledgement of the trials and tribulations he had been forced to put up with. “So I am not sure. Gamos, my grandfather, assures me that there will be very large defensive forces more than capable of repelling the siege, but one never knows. All we do know is that there will be casualties and healers will be needed.”

  “Your skills were certainly well used and appreciated here,” Lenamare said, nodding pleasantly to her.

  “But Nysegard?” Trisfelt asked with quite a bit of trepidation. “I am not that familiar with the world, but nothing I have heard about it is good.”

  Hilda nodded. She had decided to be as honest as possible with Trisfelt and his allies; it would keep the story simpler. She had not gone into any of the details; she had, in fact, shifted some to say that it was large school of animages in need of defense, one that their own school had sworn a mutual defense pact with. The story was almost true, if you simply switched priests for animages.

  The problem was that she wanted to preserve her relationships and ties to Freehold in the event this elusive demon and his cohort returned, and thus she needed a reason to explain her potentially long absence. How many alvaran weddings could she be expected to attend, particularly within a few quarter-months of each other?

  “To be fair, I have not heard much good, either; however, I have it on good authority that the world is quite lacking in demons,” Hilda said with a smile. D’Orcs are another story, she thought, but she was not going to bring that up. “So I see that as a net positive.”

  Lenamare chuckled and nodded. “Indeed.”

  “Of course,” Jehenna said drily, “you may find yourself returning to a demon siege.”

  Lenamare’s mouth ticked slightly at this rather pressing reminder.

  “I know; I hope I can return beforehand to be of assistance.” Hilda shook her head. “Do you have any idea how soon the foul being may seek retribution?”

  Lenamare gave a small shrug. “We gave him a pretty good spanking, but his ego is ridiculously beyond the pale, as is, of course, typical of archdemons.” He shook his head slightly in frustration at the thought. “Thus, being bruised, we may be assured that as soon as he has recovered and regathered his forces, he will attack.”

  “Is this why the Rod and the priests have started moving into the old barracks?” Trisfelt asked.

  “Indeed.” Jehenna nodded. “We have reached a mutual aid agreement with them, and they will add to our internal defenses.”

  “They have also seen the wisdom of availing themselves of our superior protection,” Lenamare noted.

  Hilda had to smile brightly at the implied insult to her church and god. The man was difficult. “Quite an unusual arrangement, I must say,” she said.

  “It is,” Jehenna said, nodding in agreement, “and quite odd that their leader, this Arch-Diocate Iskerus, was so suddenly called back to Justicia even as we were sealing the agreement.”

  Hilda chuckled. “Well, as they say, the gods work in mysterious ways.”

  “Mysterious?” Lenamare wrinkled his nose and shrugged dismissively. “I believe the term is random.”

  Ithgar, Edge of Noaware: Mid Sixth Period

  “Shaman? You requested our presence?” Hespith Fowl Breath asked as she and General Farsbargodden entered the tent where she, Fer-Rog, Rupert and the other shamans of Doom had just completed a Dreaming.

  “Yes, change of plans,” Beya Fei Geist informed them.

  “Change of plans?” General Farsbargodden asked suspiciously.

  “Yes. We’ve just had a meeting with the other shamans searching for Doomalogues,” Beya told them.

  “It’s war!” Fer-Rog blurted out.

  Farsbargodden’s right eye twitched and the corners of his mouth started to pull upward.

  “Not necessarily—not here.” Beya Fei Geist gave Fer-Rog a rueful glance. “However, in Astlan the party was attacked on orc territory by one hundred alvar on hippogriffs.”

  “In orc territory?” Farsbargodden’s eyes narrowed.

  “Yes, and there is an armistice in place. The alvar have violated it with their unprovoked attack,” Beya Fei Geist said.

  “Did any of the alvar survive?” Hespith asked.

  Farsbargodden glanced at her, apparently surprised she had phrased the question that way.

  Beya Fei Geist nodded. “A few did, but were captured by a local tribe on instruction from Lob Smasher. They will be used as proof of the violation.”

  “Excellent,” Hespith said.

  “However, the only reason there were survivors was because the orcs had not properly trained for combat on D’Wargback,” Beya Fei Geist said.

  Hespith nodded in understanding.

  “Ragala-nargoloth has been training this entire time rather than traveling. Her party is heading into alvaran-occupied territory; they are expecting to have to clean the Doomalogue of its alvaran infestation,” Beya said. “Where we are going may or may not have alvar, but it will have a variety of hostiles.”

  “So, a respite to train,” Hespith stated more than asked.

  “That is my thought. General?” Beya asked.

  “Agreed.” General Farsbargodden nodded.

  Astlan, Orcan Plains: Early Sixth Period

  “Ariel, your people were very clearly in orc territory,” Trevin said in a loud voice directed at the rather distance-distorted mirror image of the Alvaran prince. She was having a mirroring with the Elders of the Grove, or trying to. At over four hundred leagues from the edge of the Grove and nearly five hundred from the chamber, they were close to the extreme range of mirroring, even with the powerful amplifiers of the Grove and the Nimbus.

  As a consequence of the distance, the image quality was poor; about like looking into very shiny metal mirror. The sound quality was similarly poor, and so she had to speak loudly and enunciate clearly.

  This was the fourth mirroring she’d had with the Grove since she had received word of the battle. It was the first, however, in which all of the Elders were able to be present. Ariel, in particular, had been away dealing directly with the D’Orc presence. It was, in fact, likely that either he or his sister had ordered the patrols.

  “That is but a technicality,” Ariel responded. “They have summoned D’Orcs from the Abyss; that is a clear provocation and in violation of the armistice.”

  “Nonsense!” Duranor, the dwarven elder, shouted. “Trevin’s friends in the Council of Wizardry invited an archdemon to join their council. The alvar didn’t try to invade the Council states!”

  Trevin shook her head, not understanding what she had just heard. “Wait a minute! Duranor, what was that you just said about the council inviting an archdemon to join us?”

  “What? You haven’t heard?” Ariel asked in surprise.

  “Heard what?” Trevin asked, concerned.

  “Exador!” Duranor said. “Turns out he was the leader of the three archdemons in Freehold. The hundreds of demons were his.”

  “What?” Trevin said in shock. “How do you know this?”

  “Apparently there was this sword golem that revealed him, and that led to a massive battle in the palace foyer with meteors, quakes, fires, a djinni and all sorts of mayhem!” Duranor told her.

  “How many were injured? Killed?” Trevin asked.

  “Minor wounds, from what we’ve heard.” Elraith said.

  Trevin shook her head in amazement. “Wh
en did this happen?”

  “About sixteen days ago. We learned of it perhaps a week ago,” Duranor said.

  “And Exador?” Trevin asked.

  “Plotting his revenge, I should imagine,” Prince Ariel replied.

  Trevin closed her eyes for a moment, trying to process and make sense of this information.

  “Back to my point. The wizards in the Council States and all over the world summon demons all the time, and you do not go invading their land,” Duranor told Prince Ariel.

  “Yes, but those demons have never formed regular armies to battle us,” Ariel said.

  “Technically, it was orcs summoning D’Orc armies, I should think,” Duranor said. “How is that different than wizards in armies summoning demons? You had no business in their territory. They had not left their land; they had not invaded yours.”

  “It was only a matter of time. This has all been prophesied,” Prince Ariel stated calmly.

  “Prophesied?” Trevin asked. She was not aware of such a prophecy.

  “Yes. About one hundred years after Orcus was slain in the fields of Etterdam, the orcs received a prophecy of his return, and sometime later, a prophet of Nét released a counter-prophecy that the alvar would rise to stop him,” Prince Ariel said.

  Trevin closed her eyes again. “This would have been useful information to have had sooner.”

  Ariel shrugged on the other side of the mirror. “You and I have not had a mirroring since you left the Grove. The D’Orcs happened after that.”

  Trevin sighed. “Agreed. We need to communicate more frequently.”

  “So. Will you represent the alvar in getting the hostages back?” Prince Ariel asked.

  “Of course,” Trevin said. “We are not that far from where the battle took place.”

  Smithy of Doom: Late Sixth Period

  Vaselle wiped the sweat off his brow. He was going to need a more powerful cooling system. This part of Doom was considerably warmer that most parts. Molten lava and various metals would do that. He had, with Tamarin’s help, managed to convince Völund to let him set up shop in one of the—well, forging studios, he supposed you would call it, down in the Smithy of Doom.

  The smithy was actually quite large, and apparently at some point Völund had had quite a number of smith apprentices working for him. There was the main smithy, and then a good number of studio or workshop smithies. Currently there were only three D’Orc smiths working for him in the main smithy, and Phaestus’ team had taken over the two largest studios; however, there had been a number of midsized and smaller studios available, and after considerable amounts of—uhm—begging, he and Tamarin had managed to get the Smith of Doom to agree to his using one.

  The funny thing was that a small studio for a D’Orc was still larger than his entire shop in Freehold. That reminded him; he was going to need to get some tools from his shop tomorrow. In fact, perhaps he would need to buy a second set of tools. There was a lot of good stuff here, but it was generally D’Orc-sized.

  In the morning, he was planning on taking some gems with him through his portal beacon outside Freehold to visit a colleague of his to engage him in a commission; he would also go to a tool shop and get more tools. It would be his first attempt to actually use his master’s power to open a portal on his own.

  While studying in the library, he had looked up information on Orcus’ warlocks and discovered detailed descriptions and, in fact, instructions on creating official ‘Warlock of Doom’ clothing and paraphernalia. He should be able, eventually, to make many of the accouterments, but magical clothing was a bit out of his realm of experience; however, Ganulious was a gifted magical tailor that he had worked with before.

  He shook his head, smiling broadly in joy. If he had not already achieved his life’s most unimaginable dream of being the lowly servant of one of the most powerful forces in the multiverse, Lord Tommus, he would have said having a laboratory next door to Völund the Smith would have been an unrealistic dream come true. As a craftsman of magical artifacts and devices, who better to learn from than Völund the Smith?

  Of course, having access to the heating fires of a safely contained active volcano, and a nearly infinite supply of precious metals and gemstones, were also major benefits. He was, quite literally, in heaven! He could not believe his amazingly great fortune. Best of all, he had a purpose, a mission; to craft devices for his master.

  “I think that’s the last of the dirt!” Tamarin exclaimed, holding her “vacuum bag” up for his inspection. Tamarin had found a long tube and heavy-duty cloth sack, and wrapped the opening of the sack very tightly around one end of the tube to create a very unique contraption. Using her djinn powers, she created a low-pressure region inside the tube, and when she ran the open end of the tube across the floor, dirt and small debris were sucked up the tube and then expelled into the sack. While doing this, the cloth sack inflated with the air that was being sucked up, and there was a continuous whooshing noise. It was far more effective than sweeping.

  “If I ever get the spare time, I am going to have to figure out how to make one of those with conventional wizardry,” Vaselle said, smiling in appreciation. “I am sure I could sell a lot of them.”

  “I’ve got lots of great ideas!” Tamarin said. “I’ve spent my life studying so many things that as an immaterial djinni, I could only imagine. Now that I’m in a material world, there are so many fun things I would like to try out.”

  “Well, you know, I need to be building stuff for our master, like coolers and portal beacons, but that’s only the beginning. I think we worked well together on the D’Orcing, so if you want to work with me here in the lab, that would be fun.”

  “Wow, thanks! I’d love to—at least, when our master doesn’t need me,” Tamarin said. “My first job is to serve him.”

  “Oh, of course! No ,it’s just whenever you have time. I’m the same way; if the master needs me to go on a mission or smite some of his enemies, that takes priority,” Vaselle agreed.

  “Excellent!” Tamarin clapped her hands together before running over and giving Vaselle a great big hug.

  Chapter 140

  Citadel of Light: DOA + 15, Shortly after Dawn

  “This place is really filling up,” Timbly observed from one of the inner walls, which straddled the first inner courtyard and the outer courtyard. They were watching a huge stream of refugees coming through the northern outer gate and across the mighty wood and steel bridge that spanned the outer courtyard, which was actually about forty feet below the two sets of gates.

  “If we get everyone in, it will be over two hundred and fifty thousand people,” Leighton told them.

  Teragdor shook his head in awe. “And you have the supplies for a siege?”

  Leighton shrugged. “The Siblings willing. Supply trains are bringing in stored grains, meats and anything that has been harvested. This is not huge, given the time of year, but far better than at the end of winter. They are bringing in all readily available livestock as well; no sense in leaving them to the Unlife to slaughter. We have longer-term base supplies, of course; things that keep well, if not digest well. Beyond that, we will rely on food and water replication spells.”

  “That is one advantage to having a large clerical contingent,” Timbly said.

  “Hendel’s people are often quite taxed. Being of our earth god, they not only have the best nourishment rituals, but also, obviously, the most powerful healers,” Leighton said.

  “I have no experience working with priests of the other Five Siblings. I assume the priests of Krinna will focus on aerial defense?” Teragdor asked the priest of Krinna.

  “Indeed. We also work with enchantments. Defensive enchantments, particularly glamour protections and such, are very important against certain types of undead.” Leighton smiled. “But the most excitement comes from blowing clouds of vampire bats out of the sky!”

  Timbly shook his head. “Vampires can actually turn into bats? I thought that was a myth.”

&
nbsp; Leighton chuckled. “It is a myth. Some of the most powerful vampires can take on winged, batlike forms, but they are not actual bats. No, vampire bats are very large, extremely vicious and deadly bats under the control of vampires. They fly in large swarms and swoop down upon victims from the sky en masse.”

  “What do Namora’s people do against the undead?” Teragdor asked.

  “Well, for one thing, they are very good at turning water into wine.” Leighton grinned. “Far better than any of the rest of us.”

  They all laughed at that. It was well known that water-to-wine rituals were generally only good for salad dressing, or if one was exceedingly drunk.

  “More seriously, many undead have problems with running water,” Leighton told them. “Namora’s people can channel streams, rivers and even floods of water to wash out undead forces. They are also the first line in maintaining the Holy Water supplies. Beyond that, they handle all liquids; acids and alkaloids can be very effective against undead. Really nice for dissolving both zombies, skeletons and other animated dead, who aren’t smart enough to get out of the way.”

  “This will definitely be interesting,” Teragdor said, taking a deep breath. He was actually feeling excitement in his blood at the thought of the forthcoming conflict. He was not sure if that was due to his orc blood or his priestly calling.

  “Indeed.” Leighton grinned. “Our forces are elated that for the first time in millennia we shall have a full contingent of avatars from all Five Siblings! I think the commanders are still in shock that Dashgar and Inethya themselves have graced us with their strength; and that Fassbindr, Prophet of Torean upon Nysegard, will also be here with two saints, in full measure with Saints Hilda and Stevos of Tiernon.”

  “I have to admit my own pleasant surprise,” Timbly agreed.

  “There are rumors that Ashnea Brightfeather may show up; have you heard anything?” Teragdor asked Leighton.

  “I am praying so!” Leighton shook his head. “While intimidating to be in the presence of both Torean’s and Tiernon’s prophets, having Krinna’s own prophet here would be something truly beyond any dream that I might have conceived of!”