by J. Langland
“Ramses, your legend precedes you,” Praelgeis hissed.
Ramses nodded. “Thank you, your lordship.”
“It was not a compliment,” came a sharp hiss from two seats left of Praelgeis. Exador recognized Baba Smert', a hideous old—Exador didn’t know a word sufficient to describe her.
Ramses smirked at the old bag of bones. “Then I am even more grateful.” He chuckled softly.
“Enough pleasantries,” Praelgeis hissed. “We summoned you here to discuss the information you provided us.”
Exador suppressed a grimace of annoyance at the lich’s use of the word “summoned”; they both knew the lich meant it as an intentional slight against him. “Yes, my information,” he said, twisting his head slightly in puzzlement. “Was it incorrect? Did not the Nimbus leave the Grove even as I said it would?”
“Yes, but you neglected to inform us of its reinforcements,” Baba Smert' hissed.
“Reinforcements?” Exador asked, truly puzzled. “I know of no reinforcements. I don’t believe they’ve upgraded their ships for over a decade, if not more.”
“Mortal reinforcements,” Daerth Tromlane hissed from the right. “Very powerful reinforcements.”
Exador shook his head. “As far as I know, they would only have their standard contingent and some passengers they were trying to ferry out of Freehold to avoid the Rod of Tiernon and the Oorstemothian Sky Fleet. None of whom I would consider a serious threat.”
“Oh, really?” Baba Smert' snarled. “Show them the scrying we made of the encounter.”
Within a few moments a scrying, most likely a balling, appeared between the dais and the podium, and they were able to watch the encounter. The Storm Lords were able to rapidly close on the cloudship and get off a number of good, damaging blasts before the carpets scrambled.
Exador shrugged. He wasn’t that familiar with Grove cloudship tactics, but it looked pretty routine, and given the number of Storm Lords and ice dragons, it looked like the cloudship would soon be taken. He could not imagine how the liches had been defeated.
“There,” Baba Smert' hissed. She pointed towards what appeared to be a robed man walking—not flying but walking—in the air towards an ice dragon and its rider. The scrying zoomed in on this man and his opponent. Exador blinked, recognizing one of Lenamare’s lackeys, Elrose, a master of enchantment and sorcery. It was not clear to Exador what the Natooran wizard would be able to do. One didn’t seriously consider enchanters or sorcerers when talking combat magic.
Exador’s eyes soon widened in surprise as Lenamare’s flunky quickly proved him wrong. He would have to seriously reconsider his opinions of those disciplines. As a master of water, Elrose had melted and steamed the ice dragon without heat, and then he dispersed the ice dragon using a high-pressure region. But the truly inspiring piece of wizardry was tossing a vial of water at the dismounted lich and using it to open a portal to Water, then allowing the lich’s own frozen nature to turn that outpouring of Water into ice, thus entrapping the lich in a giant ice cube plunging towards the ground.
Exador had to restrain himself from clapping in admiration. It was truly inspired. He really should have recruited the man. Argh. Hindsight!
“That wizard was dangerous and annoying, the other one even more so,” Praelgeis hissed.
“The other one?” Exador asked. He wasn’t aware of any other master-level wizards of any sort within the group, other then Trevin D’Vils. Praelgeis nodded and let the scrying expand to its full scope before focusing in on one of the marginally more effective, if smaller, flying carpets.
“The one in the turban,” Baba Smert' hissed.
Exador took another look as the scrying zoomed in. He blinked. It was that imbecile Gastropé, who had escaped with the girl, the book and the greater demon. He gritted his teeth. He should have vaporized his former employee immediately, rather than having toyed with the idea of polymorphing him into something unpleasant. In the future, no more mister nice guy.
Exador shook his head. “I know this wizard; he is barely qualified to be a wizard. I hired him as a low-level combat wizard and he failed quite spectacularly!”
The scrying stopped as several liches snickered. “If so,” Praelgeis hissed, “then you are a terrible judge of talent. Watch.”
The scrying resumed. Several carpets were in trouble, going down. The one with his former employee was zooming around and being somewhat effective, but they were clearly outgunned and going to wear out soon. Gastropé stopped launching attacks and seemed to go into a trance. He sat out at least one pass against the lich and ice dragon. His colleagues were all staring at him; clearly the nitwit had panicked and frozen.
Suddenly Gastropé said something and used his Wand of Fire to create a short, sustained blast, as if lighting wood in a fire pit. Exador blinked and Ramses coughed beside him. That moron was somehow using a Wand of Fire and mere verbal components to summon not one, but three demons while on a wildly veering flying carpet! Exador had known the boy was simple-minded, but insane?
Three fiends, type II demons, suddenly appeared and instead of eating the occupants of the carpet, they sped off and attacked the nearest lich and ice dragon. Exador’s jaw dropped. There was no way in the Abyss even a truly talented wizard of Gastropé’s experience should have been able to pull that off.
All three would have to have been previously bound to Gastropé and even then, no pentagrams, no protection? The level of bindings on those demons needed to make this safe would likely be more than even a master conjuror could easily cast. Someone like Damien? Yes. But he was one of the most gifted conjurors in Astlan, and thus the multiverse.
They all continued to watch the rest of the battle. It was, quite frankly, humiliating for the Storm Lords. Between Elrose, Gastropé’s demons and the Grove’s normal fighting prowess, the Storm Lords were clearly outmatched.
The scrying ended. The room was silent.
“To be clear, Exador,” Praelgeis hissed ominously, “this looks to us to be more of a setup, a trap, than information from our ally.”
“Ah,” Exador said, slightly taken aback, but he could see their line of thinking. Ramses was frowning beside him. He knew Ramses well enough to know the Time Warrior was preparing for battle.
“I think you are right,” Exador said suddenly.
That caused several of the Storm Lords to blink their eye sockets. A rather odd thing for beings without eyelids, Exador thought. “A trap for both of us, set by my arch-nemesis, Lenamare!”
Baba Smert' shook her head. “We’ve all heard your rants about this Lenamare, but I don’t see how you can spin this against him.”
“Ahh, but you see, all of the guests on the Nimbus work for Lenamare. Elrose is one of his key wizards—the demon conjuror turned traitor and joined with Lenamare after leaving my service. And I know from the roster that the rest of the passengers were all working for or with Lenamare!”
“I think we are going to need a better explanation, perhaps some proof,” a Storm Lord Exador did not recognize hissed.
“Very well. I have plenty of time, and I think it very important that we understand our common enemy here.” Exador smiled brightly at his “allies.”
Courts of Chaos, Exador’s Penthouse
“Ugh,” Ramses sighed as he sat down in an overstuffed chair in Exador’s penthouse den in the Courts.
“Bloodwine?” Exador asked, raising a decanter.
“Excellent, that should hit the spot,” Ramses said.
Exador set two wine glasses down on the small table between the chairs and poured bloodwine into each.
“That was some mighty fast talking you managed there,” Ramses stated, taking a sip.
“I was completely taken aback by the scrying so I had to think fast. Fortunately, it ended up being to our advantage. We have now convinced the Storm Lords that Lenamare and the Council were behind this ‘trap’ that they laid for us, thus assuring their help in invading Freehold and capturing the book.”
> “This damn book is getting far more complicated than expected.” Ramses shook his head.
“I agree; however, all success must be paid for. This is the down payment,” Exador said before taking another sip of bloodwine. “The bigger the down payment, the better the payoff.”
“I hope.”
Exador shrugged. “The one thing I can’t figure out is how that nincompoop Gastropé managed to summon three fiends in such dire circumstance with so little protection or preparation.”
“You know, he did seem a lot more like a summoner than a conjuror,” Ramses observed.
“An animage?” Exador shrugged the idea off, but then considered some more. “I do agree, I suppose, but for an animage to summon three demons under such circumstances would require an even greater level of both skill and power than I know Gastropé can possibly possess. I’d have seen it with demon sight.”
“Well, there is another possibility,” Ramses said.
Exador looked at him, puzzled.
“Remember the battle between the Knight Rampant and Lenamare’s greater demon?” Ramses asked.
Exador snorted. “I’m not likely to forget.”
Ramses nodded, taking a sip. “Remember the greater demon’s minions trapped in the net?”
Exador shrugged, and then an introspective look stole over his face.
“Did one of Gastropé’s demons look familiar?” Ramses asked.
“The octopod. Yes.” Exador nodded and then perked up. “Exactly. And I know that demon. I’ve met him before, a very long time ago!”
“Tisdale,” Ramses said.
“No, that does not sound quite right,” Exador disagreed. “Tisdale was a wizard that slew Diemeron Hunt Master. One does not forget the slaying of the most powerful and feared Mind Reaver.”
“Hmm, true. Diemeron was exceedingly good at ferreting out hidden intent in those who could get close enough to hurt him, and then leave them a gibbering wreck, their minds twisted and hollowed out.” Ramses grinned as he thought about it. “I have to admit to having been more than a little wary of him myself. His powers worked on demons as well as mortals.”
“Given that the wizard Tisdale was, I believe, human, and able to slay Diemeron, he was clearly not a lowly fiend. For one thing, fiends do not shape-change, and Diemeron could hold his own against an archdemon,” Exador said.
“So, yes, clearly coincidental,” Ramses agreed.
“The octopod has a more diminutive name; as I recall, he was also more than a little unhinged,” Exador said.
Ramses frowned. “I met him when I first arrived in the Abyss. I am pretty sure his name was Tisdale, but you are correct in that I don’t think that is what he normally goes by.”
“Tizzy.” Exador snapped his fingers.
Ramses nodded. “Yes! That is the fiend’s name.”
“So this fiend was with both Lenamare’s extra-greater demon and with Gastropé,” Exador mused.
“I find it a very odd coincidence,” Ramses said.
Exador nodded. “Agreed. We know that Gastropé is now working for Lenamare, and we do know that Lenamare either controls the extra-greater demon, or is actually controlled by the demon.”
“Or perhaps allied.”
“No. We’ve been over this; I do not see Lenamare aligning himself with any demon. He would need to be the master or be completely enslaved,” Exador said.
“So perhaps then Gastropé had rings to control these demons?”
Exador nodded. “That would make the most sense. Lenamare gave him rings to control the demons.”
Ramses frowned. “Even so, for someone so young to be able to control and coordinate three fiends, even with binding rings, is quite impressive.”
Exador shrugged. “Perhaps, but I am reasonably certain that Lenamare and Jehenna would create very tight bindings between the demons and the rings.” He paused in thought and his face became puzzled. “Interesting,” he mused, “Gastropé was the only one of my people to survive an encounter with that extra-greater demon. I’ve always found his story implausible. However, if Gastropé had been working for Lenamare all along, as a spy in my camp, that would explain why the demon didn’t rend him limb from limb and organ from organ, as he did the rest of my men.” He glanced to Ramses.
Ramses shrugged. “And yet you did not detect anything about him.”
“Sheer terror was about the only thing that nithling radiated. Scared of his own shadow.” Exador shook his head.
“Very curious,” Ramses observed.
Just then, a cold wind seemed to sweep the chamber, the lights flickering as a deep dark gloom settled over the room. Ramses sat up straighter.
Exador shook his head. “Relax, it’s just Morthador, my greater shadow and trusted spy.”
Exador glanced into the darkest upper reaches of the room. “What news, my faithful servant?”
A deep bass whisper reverberated from the darkness. It was felt more in the inner bones of the ear than in the air itself. “Greetings, master. I have intercepted more transmissions from the Grove.”
“Curious. Who in Freehold would know to communicate via the earth?” Exador asked.
“Not to Freehold, but rather to Steelwell and other cities of the Modgradin Association,” Morthador whispered.
“The dwarves?” Ramses asked, puzzled. “What would be bothering them?”
“The alfar,” Morthador stated.
“Of course, the alfar, but that’s a given.” Exador shrugged impatiently. “Why would they use such a secure line of communication to whine about the elves?”
“Because the alfar are quickly marshalling forces for war,” Morthador said.
Both Ramses and Exador did a double take. “What do you mean, quickly marshalling? The alfar do nothing in less than a decade,” Exador asked peevishly.
“And against whom? The dwarves?” Ramses added.
“The orcs,” Morthador replied.
“Orcs?” Ramses’ face twisted in consternation. “The orcs in Astlan have not been a serious threat to anyone in thousands of years.”
“In Murgandy, in the town of Murgatroy, a sizeable contingent of orc warriors on D’Wargs, accompanied by D’Orcs, showed up on what appears to have been a supply run,” Morthador told them. “The alfar in the Grove are also claiming similar reports in Etterdam, Ithgar and Romdan.”
“I’m sorry, but what? Dorks and dwargs?” Exador asked. Ramses seemed equally puzzled.
“No, D’Orcs and D’Wargs. Demon Orcs and Demon Wargs,” Morthador replied instructively.
“Demon orcs?” Exador looked at Ramses. “Have you ever heard of such a thing? I thought we all came from human stock, except of course for the dragon demons… I suppose we should call them D’Dragons or something.”
“No, I have never heard of them,” Ramses said.
“They predate you,” Morthador said.
“Exactly how old are you?”
Morthador was silent for a while before replying. “Time has little meaning in the shadows in the belly of the ground. I do not know.”
“Okay then,” Exador said. “What do you know of them and why do the alfar hate them?”
“The D’Orcs were the minions of Orcus. He led them and the orcs in numerous battles against the alfar and their allies, on many worlds,” Morthador explained.
“Orcus?” Ramses grimaced. “I am pretty sure he was put down before my time; by an avatar of Tiernon, as I recall.”
“Yes, I’ve heard Damien’s bard sing the tale before the Courts. It was one of their favorite ballads. It was also indescribably long and tedious.” Exador shook his head. “But I am fairly certain it made good money for that bard.”
“Yes, you are right. I have heard it once.” Ramses tilted his head. “Wasn’t Damien’s bard also with the extra-greater demon?”
Exador grunted a short laugh. “I have to admit, this is getting curious.” He shook his head and turned back to the dark recess of the room. “What more can you tell me?”
Freehold, Council Chamber: Early Sixth Period
“I assume that I speak for us all in saying that it has been an exhausting day?” Gandros Ysandr-Eranos, Lord Chairman of the Council of Wizardry, asked wearily, resting his gavel after calling the Council to order. It had been two days since the main entranceway to the palace had been destroyed in the Council’s battle with Exador, and the entire Council had been working extremely long hours shoring up their defenses and dealing with structural damages to their fortress and city.
Meteor storms tended to be rather devastating. While Exador had been felled by half a dozen good-sized meteors, several smaller rocks had been drawn in with the larger one and rained down upon the city proper, causing collateral damage, as had Exador’s geo-quake spell. Miraculously, there had been only minor injuries.
“That would be an understatement,” Sier Barvon stated. The councilors had not only had to go out and inspect the damages, reassure people who were now worried about impending demonic vengeance, but also start preparing new defenses for what they were sure was coming soon.
“This is an unprecedented crisis and we are nowhere close to our full strength!” Tureledor complained.
“We were down a councilor as it was, awaiting the yearly meeting for the next election, and now one of our most formidable members has become our most formidable enemy,” Davron agreed.
“Trevin is out chasing down a goddess we could currently care less about and Damien appears to have gone missing,” Zilquar said.
Randolf shook his head. “Damien had to attend to some issue involving that Lord Edwyrd fellow, and took a few days leave. It was therefore Council business, given this Edwyrd fellow was pursuing leads regarding these demons.”
“So he said,” Sier Barvon complained. “Mighty convenient that he leaves a few hours before all hell—and I clearly mean that literally—broke loose!”
“I do not believe he could have anticipated that sword golem’s actions,” Jehenna said drily.
“Still, one of our foremost conjurors and demonologists is not here when we need him,” Alexandros Mien reminded them. “These things do happen, but we could certainly use his assistance now.”