by J. Langland
“Randolf, Lenamare, Jehenna?” Gandros inquired, looking at the three wizards. “You have been pooling all your information on Exador?”
“Indeed,” Lenamare said before the other two could answer. “I also have Hortwell working with Randolf’s people in examining the history of the Exadors—or rather, Exador, since we now know he is but a single individual.”
“Have you been able to glean anything useful yet?” Davron asked.
“Only that, having been bested by the Council, he shall certainly seek a ruthless and unsparing vengeance,” Randolf said somberly.
“You have studied him for years, as a demon, yes?” Alexandros asked Randolf.
Randolf nodded. “My entire life, as did my father and grandfather.”
“I must admit, Randolf has an interesting contraption he is working on,” Lenamare told the Council. Randolf blinked in surprise at the public compliment.
“Indeed?” Gandros asked.
Randolf nodded. “I have been working for many years on a trap for him. Since it is highly unlikely that we could permanently kill an archdemon, I’ve been working on neutralizing him.”
“Neutralizing him?” Zilquar asked.
“Containing him, taking him off the playing field so to speak,” Randolf said.
“What trap could you devise that would hold an archdemon?” Tureledor asked.
“It’s not like you can just toss one of them in a deep dark hole, never to be heard from again,” Zilquar noted.
“It is a remarkable variant of a Vergian Time Stasis trap,” Lenamare said before Randolf could reply. “I had such a trap at my school, and in fact, presumably a number of Exador’s wizardlings are still stuck in it. Being in a complete temporal stasis, they would not have been hurt by my parting gift to Exador and his army.”
Randolf nodded. “The problem is that casting a Vergian Time Stasis is, as we all know, completely impractical in the midst of combat. Thus, I have been working on a means of getting him into an existing VTS. Something that Lenamare”—Randolf gestured to his colleague—“was able to do with his teleportation trap. Now, of course, it might be tricky to get Exador to teleport near us…”
“And we would need to ensure that none of our people accidentally teleport in the vicinity of such a trap.” Lenamare smiled in what appeared to be gentle concern for the wellbeing of his colleagues. Jehenna, by Lenamare’s side, cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.
“So we are working to come up with some alternatives. I have had some previous success, and I hope that with Lenamare’s assistance, we can perfect something demon-specific,” Randolf said.
“Excellent.” Gandros nodded. “However, we also need to worry about the wards, and maintaining them. Lenamare, between this trap, the wards and researching Exador’s methods, will you have any time to assist the newly formed demonic defense team?”
Lenamare sighed in resignation, but gave a weary smile. “It is a great load, but I am sure with the support of all my esteemed colleagues, I shall be able to accomplish what must be done!”
Jehenna twisted her head rather quickly to glance at Lenamare, as if in surprise, most likely at his unusually flattering comment about their colleagues.
“How are our supplies for maintaining the wards?” Gandros asked.
Jehenna spoke up. “If we stay in demon-repulsion mode only, we are good for another week. We are going to need to send out carpets to acquire more material components. We will need to scour the Council States and surrounding regions.”
“I expect there will be considerable overlap between the component needs of the wards, in this mode, with many of the other defenses and attack strategies the new demonic defense team will need?” Tureledor asked.
Lenamare nodded. “Indeed. I will work hard to coordinate. Jehenna will be overseeing the re-provisioning.”
“Speaking of demonic defenses,” Zilquar said. “Should we consider inviting the Rod and priests of Tiernon outside our gate inside? While I am not a fan of organized religion, an army of priests might be very useful against a demonic army.”
“Agreed,” Gandros said. “Given that Damien had been our main contact and he is still missing... Alexandros, can I prevail upon you to continue to be our emissary to the followers of Tiernon?”
The elder mage nodded. “Of course. We are going to need all the help we can get. Previously, Exador’s demons were only spying; I assume they will be coming back, with reinforcements.” He looked at Lenamare. “At some point, I should like to review the wards with you once more. We need to have an understanding of how they will perform under sustained attack.”
“Of course,” Lenamare agreed with a very tight smile. Clearly he was not pleased at having his work reviewed or questioned, but when the greatest living mage of the last several hundred years took an interest in one’s work, one did not say no.
Lenamare’s Quarters
“What was that in the council chambers?” Jehenna asked as soon as they returned to their suite.
“What ever do you mean?” Lenamare asked with mock innocence.
“Were you bitten by some altruistic humility bug?” Jehenna said. “I don’t believe I have ever seen you so friendly and cooperative towards our ‘esteemed colleagues,’ as you called them.”
Lenamare smile grimly. “Believe it or not, I actually need their assistance.”
Jehenna shook her head, not understanding.
“This new situation makes it imperative we unlock the book; I can use much of this activity as a cover for more intense work on opening the book. Further, if, by some miracle, Randolf’s trap can actually be made to work, well—getting rid of Exador buys us enormous time.”
“Are you forgetting his two archdemon friends? One of which is, presumably, a former Anilord?” Jehenna asked. “No one mentioned them in the meeting, and I wasn’t about to bring it up, but I would have to assume that all three of them will come at us. Knowing Exador as we do, his preferred vengeance would be in seizing the book from us and using it against us.”
Lenamare nodded and then shrugged. “So we build three traps. I have an escape mechanism ready if necessary. I just need you to make sure we have enough materials to keep the wards up.”
Jehenna was silent, frowning in thought. Eventually she sighed and said with resignation, “I am guessing we will not be sleeping much the next few days?”
Chapter 121
Mount Doom: DOA + 2, Late Fifth Period
Tom had begun to wonder if his council meeting would ever be over. If it was this tedious to rule one volcano, why would anyone want rule a planet, let alone a universe or multiverse? He shook his head in amusement. All of this would probably be more interesting if he hadn’t had such a busy day.
They had finally gotten the off-world shamans all back to their own worlds, and Tal-Gor was currently flying back home with Schwarzenfürze. Damien had cast a low-level illusion on his face and then hooded up, and he and Vaselle had snuck into an inn. They would hole up there until Crispin popped out of the wards around Freehold to contact Djinnistan. Tamarin had left word with someone in Djinnistan that Crispin should contact her immediately. Tamarin would then let Tom know, and Tom would get with Vaselle to open a gateway for him and Damien to return to Freehold.
It had taken a whole afternoon of rather tedious planning and work to get his guests home, and then as soon as Tom returned home to Mount Doom, he had been dragged into a conference with his commanders, including Darflow Skragnarth. They had to cover all sorts of details around longer-term housing for the new recruits, plus chores and work assignments.
Perhaps it was all the bickering about who got what assignments, like cleaning up and reopening the DoomSpa, that put him on edge. The DoomSpa had been closed since Orcus’s death and the depowering of Doom. Hard to have a spa with no temperature controls or water. It had gotten pretty dusty and disheveled over the millennia. Now they wanted to open it up—swimming pools, hot tubs, freezing tubs, lava pools, steam rooms, dry saunas, aci
d washes, mercury baths, the usual. Apparently, it was like a very premium version of Hellsprings Eternal. There was also a gym and massage rooms. Those had been used occasionally, but were now going to be rehabbed.
Anyway, these discussions went on for some time before they finally moved on to Völund and the mint. Actually, that was apparently the first of several things Völund wanted to bring up. Tom feared this was going to be an all-nighter. The mint alone involved questions of economics and inflation, minimum wages for Doomites, figuring out how to get them back into general circulation in the Abyss—presuming that it ever became safe for anyone to go to the Courts or other cities.
That was the odd thing. Apparently, there were other cities in the Abyss, just none as big as the Courts. Not as far as anyone knew, at least. It seemed like new information was flying at him every day. New insanities were just popping out of the woodwork. Or, he guessed, the stonework.
“As I was saying…” Zelda raised her voice to talk over Flora Lifender.
Clohng, clohng, clohng… what sounded like a deeply sonorous clock tower bell started gonging from somewhere beneath them. He could feel the vibrations in the floor and his seat.
“Crap! Just what we needed!” Völund snarled. He whipped out his hand mirror, waved his hand over it a few times and then stared into it. In the mirror, Phaestus’s head appeared.
“You getting the alarm?” Völund asked him.
“Yes, I’m on my way!” Phaestus replied.
Völund shook his head. “The consoles up here are not yet functional. We haven’t rekeyed the links to the Rod of Tommus. There has been no time, and quite frankly, no immediate need.”
“Of course,” Phaestus replied in the mirror. “It was keyed to the Wand and Orcus, and the signatures have now changed. Well, no time like the present to rekey it. Changing course to the Oubliette—meet you there!”
Völund put his mirror away and looked at Tom and a few others. “You heard him, we’re off to the Oubliette!”
“Fun!” Tizzy exclaimed. The octopod had been hanging out in a corner, smoking his pipe during the meeting.
“What’s the Oubliette? And what is that gonging?” Tom asked.
“The gonging is the cloister bell,” Darg-Krallnom said, shaking his head. “Haven’t heard that thing in close to seven thousand years!”
“The cloister bell?” Tom asked incredulously. “What? Is the TARDIS in trouble?”
“The what?” Zelda asked Tom. Tom shook his head, indicating it was of no importance.
“I met that guy once,” Tizzy observed. “Seemed a mite unstable if you ask me; kept backtracking on himself.” Tom glanced back at Tizzy and just shook his head.
“Let’s get moving, we don’t know how bad it is!” Völund snarled impatiently. He led the way through a door and down a long corridor, Tom and all the commanders following.
“So what is the Oubliette?” Tom asked again.
“It’s a deep dark dank pit into which you throw things you do not wish to ever come back out,” Tizzy replied as they hustled down a corridor that Tom had never taken before.
“It is that,” Arg-nargoloth said, whapping Tizzy on the back of the head. “But in this case, it’s also the control center and access point for the basement.”
“The basement?” Tom asked. He thought he had explored almost all of the Doomplex; he had not encountered a basement. “We live in a volcano, underground. How can there be a basement to an underground lair, which is basically a basement to begin with?”
Up ahead, Völund shook his head in annoyance. “You just dig deeper!”
“But there are lava flows, chambers and all sorts of hot primordial goo underneath this place!” Tom protested.
“Well, you pretty much nailed it with the primordial part,” Tizzy said as they hurried along, going deeper and further downward at a quick pace. “That was a key ingredient. Takes primordial goo to trap and contain primordial beings.”
“Contain primordial beings?” Tom asked. “You mean like a prison or something? A dungeon?”
“No, the dungeon is off of the DoomSpa! For obvious reasons!” Tizzy said shaking his head at Tom for missing the obvious.
“ ‘Prison’ is a mostly accurate term, although truly accurate would be ‘containment facility,’ ” Phaestus said, appearing from a side corridor and joining their trek.
“A containment facility?” Tom asked, concerned. “What are we containing?”
“Those whom the gods never want to see again!” Tizzy exclaimed.
“Amazing that you’ve avoided the place for so long!” Arg-nargoloth snorted.
Phaestus shook his head. “Trite, but basically true. It’s a prison containment facility I and a few others designed and built here several thousand years before we built Mount Doom.”
“And there are prisoners in it?” Tom asked, very puzzled. Who was maintaining it? Feeding the prisoners? The place had been unpowered for millennia!
“Yes, in a suspended state. Actually, several different types of suspended states, depending on the prisoner,” Phaestus replied.
“Why didn’t they escape when the volcano went to sleep?” Tom asked.
“Different power source. Completely independent and redundant,” Völund stated.
“So there is a super-secret prison underneath Mount Doom, and no one has mentioned this to me?” Tom asked in frustration. This was the sort of crap he needed to know! Hello!
“Well, it’s not exactly a secret. Just about everyone knows about it, but very few people know where it is,” Tizzy stated.
“So are you saying its famous? It’s a well-known prison?” Tom asked.
Phaestus nodded. “Yeah. Most people refer to it as Tartarus.”
“Tartarus?” Tom exclaimed. “You mean like the place where Zeus trapped the Titans?” He was nearing a small freak-out. “And now one of the Titans is trying to escape?”
“See, and you said you had never heard of it!” Tizzy said, grinning.
Tierhallon
Hilda finished unloading the picnic basket of meat, cheese and wine she had quickly gathered from her home for the nightly meeting in Tierhallon. They were meeting a bit early this evening, shortly after Beragamos, Hilda and Stevos had departed from Murgatroy for the night. They had taken a small break to clean up and let Moradel and Sentir Fallon finish up other business they had been working on.
Beragamos sighed with pleasure as he surveyed the night’s refreshments. “My dear, this is such a relief from that nasty food and drink in Murgatroy.”
Moradel chuckled. “I seem to recall it was your decision to get back into field work.” He grinned at the Supreme Archon. “From what I have heard of the gastronomic sacrifices you have had to make, I am very happy it was neither my suggestion, nor request, nor myself.”
Beragamos chuckled. “For all my complaints, it is nice to get back in the field, even with all its hardships. We do get rather complacent up here.”
Stevos chuckled. “You must admit that Hilda’s knowledge of fine food, and her wine cellar, significantly highlight the differences between here and the Planes of Man.”
Moradel had finished pouring the wine and set the bottle down, saying with a smile, “I will drink to that!” They clinked their refleca-crystal wine glasses and drank. “Exquisite as always, my dear.”
“Seriously, Beragamos, you need to file paperwork to have Hilda promoted to patron saint of wine and spirits!” Moradel smiled, nodding at Hilda in appreciation.
Stevos twisted his face in concentration, as if counting. “I think we have about twenty-two or three of those. Two in Astlan, in fact.”
“Oh.” Moradel sounded disappointed. “Well, back to the drawing board. Maybe we can come up with something appropriate but unique.”
“Patron Saint of Espionage, perhaps?” Sentir asked. “That is something we have never had, but which has been incredibly successful!” He raised his glass in salute to Hilda, who blushed.
“Indeed, Tiernon hims
elf has granted her an audience to learn of her work,” Beragamos said.
Moradel nodded appreciatively. “A well-deserved honor. To Hilda!” He raised his glass in another toast.
“So how are things going in Murgatroy?” Sentir Fallon asked.
Beragamos looked to Hilda and Stevos and then said, “I think we have gathered about as much information as we can at this point. We will need more incidents to go much further.”
“What happened to that walking sword, Ruiden?” Sentir Fallon asked curiously.
“He seems to have disappeared; we have not seen him since he ran off.” Hilda shook her head.
“I have searched the area for him, but have neither seen nor magically detected anything,” Stevos added.
“Very bizarre.” Moradel shook his head. “So what are you proposing to do now?”
Beragamos said, “We are thinking that Hilda should return to Freehold, as shall I very temporarily, and Stevos will work with his illuminaries to try to detect any more orcish or D’Orcish activity. Teragdor will be our primary contact and on-the-ground agent. We don’t want to reveal ourselves and our subterfuge to any more priests than necessary.”
Moradel nodded. “Good thinking.”
Stevos said, “He is going to keep the room at the inn for the moment, and look for a more secure permanent location in Murgandy to serve as a more formal base of operations. We’ll want a secure, consecrated location where we can meet and discuss the situation. The room at the inn is far less than ideal and if we ward it up too much, it looks very suspicious.”
“If a suitable location can be found, I would consider fortifying it with far more than the standard consecration. Feel free to help him enhance both its magical and physical security,” Moradel said.
“Do we have any Rod members in the area who could be assigned as Wardens?” Sentir Fallon asked.
“A good idea, but I fear that might attract too much attention,” Moradel said.
“Could we somehow convince a Rod member to go undercover?” Beragamos asked.