by Debra Dunbar
There were still no volunteers.
“What’s your name?” I asked the woman. I didn’t have all day here. I’d need to just pick someone and she was the closest.
“Lysile.” The elf exchanged a quick warning glance with a younger male elf.
“Wonderful. Lysile, you’re the spokesperson. Come on, let’s get going.”
She hesitated, looking again at the younger elf, then she stepped forward. “I’ll come back,” she promised him. “I’ll find you. Don’t worry.”
“Where’s the best place to do all this,” I asked. “Normally I pop into Patchine or Dis, but I’d rather arrive where elves congregate so I can make a bit of a dramatic entrance.”
Lysile took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, standing next to the two dead elves. “Thrai. It’s in the northern kingdom of Asha. That’s where the High Lords have their Council.”
I grabbed her sleeve, more to ensure she didn’t dash away once we were in Hel than a need to touch her during transport. The world blurred around us, and when everything righted we were in a city of crystal towers and marble walkways. The southern kingdoms were all about trees and greenery, but up north the elves affinity for nature leaned more toward the stone and spires of the jagged mountains. Tall silver-barked trees lined the avenue and onyx vines decorated the buildings.
Someone screamed. Then dozens of people screamed. I tightened my grip on Lysile and waited. It didn’t take long for the guards to arrive.
“Just returning a few of your citizens who wandered across the gates into the human world.” I gave Lysile a little push forward. “Sorry, the humans have the other four bodies, but I managed to retrieve these two.”
There were gasps from the crowd and panicked murmurs.
“It’s true,” Lysile announced, her voice carrying over the others. “We crossed into the human world and immediately two of our group were killed by giant, metal death-boxes. Two others met the same fate later, then these two were shot and killed by a farmer with magical weapons. There are dangers that no one warned us about. There was no welcoming party, no one to meet us as promised. We were left to wander around a hostile world alone. If the angel hadn’t arrived to heal us, more would probably be dead.”
Now the crowd really was panicking. Several braved close-up looks at the corpses, covering their mouths in horror. I heard more than one elf announce that they weren’t going to leave Hel if this is what they’d face.
“She lies,” one of the guards shouted. “The High Lords would never promise us Nirvana and send us to such a place. The demon has threatened her, forced her to tell these lies.”
The general population seemed to believe Lysile. They pressed forward, angrily facing off against the guards. We were knocked to the side, suddenly squashed between the two groups. I grabbed Lysile’s shirt again, wondering if the corpses were now being trampled.
A rock smacked me upside the head, bouncing off to hit one of the guards. They drew swords and before I could take another breath a blade sliced along my shoulder.
“Get down.” I pulled Lysile to the ground and immediately felt kicks and the pressure of bodies on top of me. We were going to be trampled, or skewered by the guards, or stoned to death. I gripped Lysile tight and did the only thing I could. I teleported us the fuck out of there and to my house in Patchine. We arrived sprawled across the cold, stone floor, two of my Lows staring at us in amazement.
“Mistress? What are you doing to that elf-lady?”
I stood and hauled Lysile up with me. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Bruised, but I’m fine. Was that the effect you expected my message to have?”
It wasn’t. I thought the elves would be shocked and alarmed, that they’d hug Lysile tight and take her off to give her a nice cup of tea and discuss how they were all going to stay in Hel. I didn’t expect a riot to break out, or the guards to begin stabbing the city residents right and left.
“I can’t stay in Hel,” Lysile pleaded. “I’ll be seen as a liar, as a traitor. They’ll kill me just to make sure I don’t spread tales of what happened to us. I’ll have to live as an exile in Hel, an elf with a price on her head. Please, please take me back to be with my group.”
I didn’t see where I had another choice. What was one more elf among the others? That made a total of fifty including the elves in Iceland. Add to that the Klee elves plus the ones who’d snuck back into France and we’d have a hard time keeping their presence a secret from the angels. But one wouldn’t tip the scales either way.
Shit. As much as I hated the idea of Elf Island, or any elves remaining among the humans, it seemed inevitable. First the deal with the Klee, then Iceland, and now this group. Even if I somehow forced them to stay, what kind of life would they have here? Without the high elves, they’d be living in a desert, struggling just as much as the humans in Libertytown to produce food in such inhospitable conditions. And it seemed the high elves and the guards were treating them just as poorly as they’d treated their human slaves. The only way these elves could remain in Hel was if I convinced the high elves, the Lords and Ladies to stay and continue the environmental modifications. And they wouldn’t stay, not when they had the angels’ enthusiastic welcome to look forward to.
No, the elves were coming. The whole damned lot of them were coming. And there wasn’t much I could do about it except make sure they all wound up on elf island, and that the humans were strong enough to not fall prey to their allure. I thought about Iceland and winced. Hopefully the other humans would be more like the French and that farmer with his combine.
I turned toward Lysile, noting a bruise forming along her cheekbone. She watched me carefully, knowing that her future depended on my decision.
“Come on,” I told her. “I’ll take you back. Just don’t tell any of the other elves about me getting trampled and stabbed. Okay?”
Her eyes shone with tears, a trembling smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “Anything, Iblis. Anything as long as I can return to my friends and family.”
Chapter 14
It was after dinner time before I’d managed to make my way back to Hel and my home in Patchine. Well, Ahriman’s former home which I was only now beginning to think of as mine. I stood outside the flaming gates, taking in the stone façade, the crushed skull walkway, the intricate arrangement of bone that made up the porch pillars. It was a sad state of affairs when this monstrous house with its residual air of torture and death would seem restful in comparison with my beloved earthly home—the home filled with all sorts of beings. The home whose pasture now included forty-four elves in cheap tents. I’d bought out three sporting goods stores in my search for inexpensive tents, sleeping bags and basic camping supplies. And then after showing them how to assemble a dome tent, I’d needed to run out and buy an entire truckload of food. I could only hope they hadn’t gone through it before I got home. The neighbors might not think kindly of elves foraging in their gardens and garbage cans, or hunting in their backyards.
Nyalla had thrown up her hands at the whole thing, packed up Boomer and drove to Michelle’s. I knew deep down inside she wasn’t really mad at me. It was just the proximity of so many elves had her feeling stabby. She’d gotten somewhat used to Bob popping in the patio door to use my laptop, but dozens of them in the back field was too much for her to take. And it made me feel horrible. How could I subject her to this after all she’d gone through? It was wrong of me to put these elven lives before her, but I was out of options. Hopefully, this situation would only be for a few days.
So while Gregory was readying an island orientation, and Nils was making sure my elven guests didn’t burn my field, and Bob was keeping watch for any additional waves of migration, I was here in Hel, trying to raise an army. Gregory had commented that I didn’t have fifty friends. He was right. And how I was going to pull together the two dozen Lows in my household and magically transform them into an army was beyond me. And Lows? I seriously needed higher level demons than that
. My Lows would be slaughtered in Aaru, and as much as I’d put them through over the last few years, I didn’t want any more of them dead.
The fire gates parted before me. My feet crunched on the pathway, my hand brushing the smooth, worn bone of the pillars as I approached my door. I could hear laughter inside, smell cooking food. I rarely got homesick for Hel, but this was one of those moments when I felt a pang of longing for my own kind. Heck, I didn’t even have any of my demon household staying at my earthly home right now. How sad was that? A demon, the Iblis, surrounded by angels, elves and humans.
Yeah, there was Boomer and Diablo, but I missed full blooded demons. And I especially missed my Lows, silly scamps that they were.
And those silly scamps all shrieked when I flung open the door and they saw me. I was barely a foot across the threshold before slimy and scaled arms were pounding me on my back, others pelting me with scraps of food or broken bits of furniture. Six hairy arms hoisted me in the air and before I could take a breath I’d been deposited on an enormous chair hewn from the body of an Ent. I squirmed on the leather cushion that I was pretty sure had once been the skin of an elf. Ironic, my sitting on elf-skin when I was playing Suzie homemaker to a bunch of them on the other side of the gates.
“Did you bring the elf woman back?” one asked.
“Can we play with her?” another chimed in.
I held up my hands for silence. “No, I did not bring the elf woman back. But, there’s good news. I’ve got a project,” I told them. Cheers ensued. “I need to raise an army to fight the angels in Aaru.”
Silence.
“Umm, Mistress?” Snip spoke up. “Isn’t that the place where nobody ain’t got no bodies? I don’t think I wanna go there.”
“And I don’t wanna meet any angels, yourself excepted, Mistress,” Pustule added. “They’ll kill me. I’d rather fight a dozen durfts bare-handed and covered in honey than face an angel.”
There was a chorus of agreement from the others. I held up my hand for silence. I got it. None of them was particularly interested in Aaru or angels. I didn’t want to sacrifice them anyway. Throwing a bunch of Lows into a battle in Aaru wouldn’t do much but cause a minor distraction, and their lives were too steep a price for that. I needed demons who were cocky, who wanted to have the street cred of killing an angel on their resume. I wanted demons who would line up for the chance to say they marched into Aaru and kicked angelic ass. I needed arrogant bullies.
Or Ancients. No, on second thought I didn’t need Ancients. Yes, I was positive that they’d love to step foot in Aaru again after their banishment, and they’d love the chance to avenge themselves against old foes. That’s exactly why I didn’t need them. Cocksure bullies would leave when I told them to, happy to come back to their homes in Hel and brag about their exploits. Ancients would want to stay and take over Aaru. That wasn’t in Gregory’s plan and it sure as hell wasn’t in mine either.
“Okay then I need you to make me a list of demons who would want to go to Aaru and fight some angels. Go ahead and contact them on my behalf. Let me know who’s interested.”
“When is the battle?” Rutter picked his nose as he spoke, flicking dried snot across the room. “Gots to know when the battle is in case they gots a conflict. Schedules matter, you knows.”
“I don’t know when the battle will be. We might only have a moment’s notice. And I’m sure something like this would take priority over a banquet or party.”
Which made me realize Gregory had never told me exactly how he planned for me to get all these demons up to Aaru. He couldn’t very well transport them. It was one thing having a crazy imp for a girlfriend, another to be seen letting demons into the angelic homeland. He’d be damned for sure. No, this had to fall on my shoulders. I was leading the army, and I needed to get them to Aaru. But I’d only ever transported myself there, and when flitting back and forth between the human world and Hel I’d only moved at max four elves or half a dozen Lows. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I tried to teleport a few hundred demons. Even if I managed it, would I be too exhausted to fight or even defend myself?
There was one person who might help me, but we weren’t exactly on good terms anymore. Although he did owe me, and owe me big.
“I’m gonna go see Gareth the Sorcerer,” I told my Lows. “Just as soon as I talk with Leethu.”
“Can’t talk to Leethu,” Snip informed me. “She’s been summoned. Again. Hope she kills that bastard this time.”
“Summoned?” Of all the shitty luck. I needed her to find Uriel, not fulfill some randy sorcerer’s sexual fantasies.
“Yep. I was right there, sharing a plate of roasted beaks with her and bam. Poof. She was gone.” Snip smiled. “At least I got to eat her share of the beaks.”
Well at least I could see Gareth. I stood, then stopped, remembering there was one additional thing on my agenda that I kept forgetting about.
“Hey, do any of you guys know an Ancient named Samael? He’s probably one of the inactive ones who hasn’t woken in thousands of years, but he’d have a big household. Very powerful demon. And very old. Like two billion years or so old.”
They stared at me with big eyes. Hack stepped forward. “We’s don’t associate with Ancients, Mistress. We’s Lows.”
“Yes, I know you don’t associate with them, but you gossip. And you listen. And you take notice of things. That’s how you survive here in Hel as Lows. So what have you heard? Anybody? Anybody? Bueller?”
Snip raised his hand. “I don’t know any Ancients named Samael, Mistress, but I know of five Ancients who are not often awake and have both wealth and large households.”
Could it be that Samael had taken a different name while here in Hel? We demons all had multiple names. One of the reasons formalities demanded we list our entire long string of names was to keep from getting us confused from one another. There were many Azs in Hel, but none with all my names, or in the same order. Perhaps he was going by something different now, like Blinky or Rosebud.
“Can you research them? Find out as much as you can about those demons including what part they played in the war. The demon I’m looking for led the army, and once held my sword. He was the first Iblis. See if you can find him.”
Snip cast me a doubtful look with his eight eyes. “Okay, Mistress. I will do my best.”
His best was all I could ask of him. He was a Low, after all. I wished I wasn’t neck-deep in work or I’d do this myself. A Low couldn’t walk up to the door of an Ancient and demand an audience, I could. Well, actually I couldn’t, but that wouldn’t stop me. I might get fireballed. I might get tossed out on my ass. I might get beaten with pointy sticks. But I might just find Gregory’s brother. And that was something I truly wanted to do. But later. Because right now I had to speak with a sorcerer.
***
GARETH’S SHOP WAS in the heart of Dis, just a few blocks from one of my other homes. I’d stopped in to deliver the same message to the Lows that lived there as I had in my other home, then made my way to the shop. Just as when I’d been there the last time, there were rings upon rings of wards that I needed to make my way through, pausing as I cleared each one to wait for the next. This was a pain in the ass. It’s a wonder Gareth had any customers at all if they had to go through all this shit each time they wanted to buy something. He was good, though. He was the only high level sorcerer in Dis, and for some things a mage just wouldn’t do.
“What’s up with the security?” I asked him once I was finally in the shop. Gareth was clearing the bark from some birch staves, his bald head glistening with sweat. The shop was magically cooled, but even in the evening, Dis’s intense heat was hard to counter.
“Told you. Got a problem with thieves. Even with the security system, I still have to lock the chicken wands up in the back.”
I’d expected the sorcerer’s gruff tone given what had happened the last time we’d met. He’d called in his favors, and I’d sort-of retrieved the stolen gem, but I’d also h
ad to threaten him about making such an incredibly stupid item ever again. Not that he could manage a device like that level-up gem without elven assistance—something I doubt he’d get even if he wanted it, given the elven exodus.
“Well as tempting as a chicken wand sounds, I’m here for something else,” I told him.
He kept peeling the bark, eyes fixed on his work. “Got coin?”
I winced, missing our friendship. There would be no work on credit for me, or work in return for future favors. It was payment up front or nothing. “Yes I have coin.”
Gareth set aside the half-finished stave. I noticed he didn’t put down the knife. “So, what do you want?”
“Offensive weaponry. I’m not sure quantity, but I’m guessing to outfit one to two hundred demons. I’ll also need to see if you have some way to do a mass transport.”
“Like Kirby’s marble? You used that last time.”
He didn’t bat an eye about my request for weapons or the quantity. Odd.
“No, I don’t think that will work. Or elf buttons. I can teleport, I just don’t think I can teleport hundreds of demons at once.”
“Open a gateway.” He picked up the birch staff once more.
“If I knew how, I would. Got any elven friends with that skill?” I knew many elves had the ability to open small gateways to travel short distances in Hel, but the elven traps were the work of multiple highly-skilled elves. I’m sure the gateways they were opening to facilitate their migration were just as difficult.
“I have a few elven friends, but none who can open gateways.” He gave the staff a few swipes with the knife, then set it aside again. “Why the army? Are you finally going to take charge of Hel?”
Uh, no. Why the fuck would I want to do that? We demons all got along fine in the anarchy that was Hel. There was no need for me to kick the hornet’s nest on that one.
“Nope. We’re going up to Aaru to kick some angel ass. Should be great fun.”