by Langland, J.
“You spent time with them didn’t you?” Elrose asked, gesturing to Hilda, the barmaid for a pint of elderberry juice.
“Indeed I did, I spent a couple different seasons with the locals in the area, trying to ferret out the secrets of both their wine and beer recipes.” Trisfelt smiled fondly, remembering.
“So then, here’s a question you can answer, why do satyrs go around naked, and always seem to inadvertently expose themselves to everyone in sight.” Elrose shook his head disapprovingly.
“What, are there some things a sorcerer doesn’t want to See?” Trisfelt asked with a wry grin.
“Yes.” Elrose said drily.
Trisfelt chuckled, “There are many reasons, but mostly I think they consider it to only be polite.”
“Polite?” Elrose asked.
“Sort of like a greeting card, an advertisement if you will, an invitation to any that might want to spend some intimate time with them. They feel you should see what you’re getting.”
“Ugh, enough.” Elrose shook his head, still smiling. “Let’s talk about the other naked being with hooves that showed up today.”
“The demon?” Trisfelt asked.
“Of course the demon.” Elrose shook his head. “You flashed me the vision of it when we met in the great hall after the summoning. That is why we are meeting tonight.”
Trisfelt laughed and nodded, “It did seem to disturb you a great deal. I realize that it was a rather spectacular event, and achievement, but it ended well, so what is the matter?”
“I’ve Seen that demon before.” Elrose stated quietly.
Trisfelt shook his head, “I was there, it was a fresh catch, an unbound demon. There is no way you could have seen it before.”
“No, I mean I Saw it, in the scryings I’ve been doing to try to uncover what exactly Lenamare is up to.”
“You mean you saw it coming?” Trisfelt nodded in thought.
“Well, I saw it among multiple possible paths. It’s appearance today helps narrow down which road we are about to go down.” Elrose said.
“Well, that seems helpful.” Trisfelt shrugged.
“Helpful, perhaps, but as such it’s a bad portent.” Elrose stated, going silent as Hilda dropped off his juice and her assistant put down plates of chicken, bread and fruits and cheeses. The table was near to overflowing. Trisfelt did enjoy his dinners.
As Hilda and her assistant left Trisfelt turned back to Elrose. “A bad portent? So whatever it is that Lenamare and Jehenna are up to is, as we feared, going to be trouble?”
“I fear so, but the threads of the future, particular this future are hard to interpret.”
“What do you mean this particular future? I’d think untangling said threads would be what you do all the time?” Trisfelt asked.
“This is different, there are lots of people involved, armies of people.”
“Armies?” Trisfelt asked, puzzled. “As in more than one army?”
Elrose shrugged. “I believe so, and worse, demons, lots of demons and lots of wizards. All the mana and animus is clouding the picture, I only see disturbing glimpses.”
Trisfelt sighed, “Well how do we sort it out?”
“Later tonight, I shall attempt to contact an old colleague of mine who is a member of the Society.”
“The Society?” Trisfelt seemed surprised at this statement, “Are they even still in existence?”
Elrose smiled and nodded. “Yes, particularly among Seers. This friend is in Seren in Eton. I’m hoping either or he or someone he trusts can join us and help me sort this out.”
“You really feel it’s getting that bad?” Trisfelt asked, now truly worried.
Elrose shook his head, “Neither of us are Conjurors, but we both know that you don’t accidentally summon an unbound Greater Demon. It strains credulity, even for Lenamare. I fear something is up, and from what I can See it appears to center around our school and whatever insanity Lenamare and Jehenna are up to.”
“Argh, I think I’m going to stock up on bottles while I’m here tonight.” Trisfelt sighed.
Chapter 7
Hurt.
Pain.
Agony.
Suffering.
Severe pain.
Intense agony.
God awful hurt.
Extreme suffering.
Painfully agonizing suffering and hurt.
This is not good, thought Tom in one of his semi-lucid moments between thoughts of assorted types of pain, agony, et cetera. So far, in the last few hours since he smoked that joint, he had really done nothing but experience new and varied forms of pain, Tom decided. Fortunately, this pain was not so all encompassing or soul wrenching as the pain of formation or whatever it was called in Astlan; however, that did not make it any less intense. It was in fact a type of pain he was a little more used to, or at least able to cope with. This was the type of pain one felt after landing stiff legged from a long fall, only a lot worse, because this was a fall of several thousand feet. It was also the pain of having one's breath knocked out, and one's lungs temporarily collapsed, and that of a severe shock throughout the entire skeletal system. All in all, a bitch.
Eventually, Tom managed to draw in a shuddering breath and slowly open his eyes. He looked down at the ground expecting to see his broken legs, shattered all over the place. Instead what he saw was ground that resembled the pictures taken of the Martian deserts and which came half-way up his thighs. His legs it seemed were imbedded in the ground. They had actually punched two holes in the ground, and he was stuck in the ground. Not good, but at least they weren't shattered. In fact, as he reanalyzed the pain, he realized that his legs must still be intact, so that the pain could feel like it was sending lightning bolts up his leg bones, which it did.
Boggy came flying down from above at this point. "I told you to relax and not think about it. Now look what you've done. You've gotten stuck."
"Yeah," Tom panted. "Got...my...breath...knocked...out...too."
"Shouldn't do that."
"I…really--didn't mean to fall."
"Oh, not that. Although you shouldn't have done that either. I meant breathe."
"What?"
"Personally, I never breathe except to talk. Too much of a hassle for too little muscle exercise. All that ever happens is that it gets knocked out of you, or you accidentally breathe a noxious smelling vapor."
"Don't you need to breathe to live?"
"Nope, we're energy fields remember. We're not alive in the normal sense."
"Then if I'm just an energy field, why do I hurt."
"Well, that's a little more complex. Actually you are physical, sort of. We're mainly condensed energy...actually that's all matter really is too; but we are just less condensed. Anyway, your demon body does have senses, or something close enough that our mind perceives them as traditional senses. One of these sets of nerve like pathways, or senses, simulates our old pain receptors. This is, of course, for similar reasons, survival etc.; however, in our current forms, it's not quite so necessary. However, we do still want something to simulate a sense of touch, to gauge pressure. So think of this pain as an overload of those senses. The pain from formation however, that's something different. That's more of a spiritual pain, in other words, it hurts because it's doing something unnatural to your essence or self, and our minds interpret it as pain.
"Interprets my ass," interjected Tizzy as he came in for a landing, "if it hurts, it's pain. Plain and simple."
"Well," Boggy said, glaring at Tizzy, "whatever you chose to think. You can experience unpleasant sensations, even though you’re not totally material."
"Yeah," Tom seemed to be saying that an awful lot, he thought. The pain was finally starting to subside, a little. "So, how do I get out?"
"Raise your arms, and we'll try and pull you out," Boggy suggested.
Tom complied, and Boggy grabbed his right arm and Tizzy his left. The two demons launched themselves into the air with all their might and pulled as hard as they could. Slowl
y and with a lot of effort, Tom began to rise from the dirt. His legs pulled slowly out of the holes, until suddenly, a point was reached, and the earth gave way. The three demons went flying up into the air as the ground reluctantly gave Tom up.
Slowly they settled back down. Tom's legs, he noticed, appeared to be intact, but they did ache a lot more than they had up on the pillar. In fact, when they set him down, he could not stand. His legs hurt way too much, so he had to kneel on his hands and knees. He found it was too hard to sit directly on the ground with his animal like legs and his long tail.
"I don't know if I can make it to those mountains, let alone find a cave right now. I'm way too sore and too tired to even really try," Tom told Tizzy and Boggy.
"No serious problem. I doubt anyone will bother you right here for awhile, if you want to sleep here," Boggy reassured him. "However, you really need to fly again as soon as possible. Otherwise you may end up too scared to fly, and a demon who can and doesn't fly has a lot of trouble."
"Sure, but let me rest first. I really can't do much more." Tom was quite serious; he felt almost as if he might pass out from exhaustion. The weariness and pain from formation, which had been temporarily forgotten, was now back in full force; coupled with the pain from the fall and the exhaustion of his wing muscles, it was almost more than he could bear. "You're starting to sound like my mother."
Boggy smiled knowingly, “You’re doing good, lad. Most new arrivals would be running around berserk at this point, insisting they were in some sort of dream or hallucinogenic state.”
“Some just go catatonic.” Tizzy interjected.
"Tell you what, Tom my...by the way, Tom, just how old were you, before you got captured, I mean, how old are you now?" Boggy asked as the thought just hit him.
"Sixteen. Why?"
“Sixteen! By the Notorious Dame’s skirts you could almost be British what with your stiff upper lip and all. Right ho! Taking it like a man!”
“Or de-man!” Tizzy exclaimed. Boggy shook his head.
"No reason..." Boggy continued. "As I was about to say, if it will make you feel any better, Tizzy and I will stay here while you sleep, to insure nobody bothers you."
Tom took Boggy's reason for asking at face value, he was too tired to do else. He nodded his head thankfully at Boggy's offer. He then slowly slid his arms and legs out till he was flat on his stomach, and promptly went out like the flames in the air above.
Chapter 8
The school was bustling with servants and staff running about madly, trying to prepare for the expected siege. The morning sun beat down upon the courtyard of the tower, giving a vibrant feeling to the air. Lenamare surveyed his people confidently. His gaze swept the large courtyard, examining the people piling firewood in the corners; carpenters constructing large wooden tanks to hold water in case fires should be ignited in the timber roofs of the stable and forge buildings. Lesser skilled servants and local peasants bringing food and game in from the countryside for supplies; the guardsmen drilling for the defense of the walls. Captain Markoff grilled orders in his typically surly manner, making guard recruits cringe. Here and there a stray dog would yelp as someone carrying supplies or tools would step on its tail or paws when it wasn't paying attention and got in the way.
His school may not be the biggest, thought Lenamare with pride, but it is certainly one of the strongest. Not only militarily, since Lenamare also ruled a good portion of the land around the school, but more importantly, magically. There were two full masters, Jehenna and himself, three assistant masters, and twenty-five students. Counting the best of the older students, Lenamare had about seven to ten wizards to draw on and of course his own incredible talent, which made the effective number about nine. He had fifty fulltime men-at-arms, forty-five new recruits, and about a hundred peasant men able to fight. Of course, Exador would probably bring about three to four hundred men, but Lenamare's fortification and his more potent permanent pentacles for summoning demons and conducting other spell craft, evened things out.
Which reminded him; he really should go up and check with Jehenna to see how construction of a talisman for controlling the greater demon was going. He turned around, and entered the narrow door to the tower. He crossed the large great hall in which women were setting up pallets for the wounded and any fleeing peasant folk to sleep. As he neared the center stairwell, he saw Assistant Master Hortwell leading the older students down to the dungeon level to inspect the magical wards that guarded the outer walls of the keep. Lenamare smiled to remember his brilliance in thinking to install permanent wardings for the walls. Now, anytime they were needed, simple spells could bring up powerful defenses to guard the keep.
He nodded to Hortwell, who gave a slight bow back, and continued down the stairs. Lenamare took the stairs up. The stairway was a large gray stone spiral staircase, which climbed from the dungeon levels up to almost the topmost floor. He went up three full revolutions and stopped at the main workroom, where he knew Jehenna to be. He opened the door to his left, the stairwell wound down counterclockwise, like all good defensive spirals, so that men retreating up the stairs, would in the open area in the great hall, have their sword arms free, and the attackers' would have to put up with the center pole of the spiral. Lenamare again congratulated himself on his inspiring military genius in recognizing the necessary defensive elements, when he designed his tower.
As he opened the door, Jehenna looked up from the table at which she was working. The room was of medium size, designed primarily for the construction of implements of magic. The room was equipped with a small forge, with ventilation, anvils, engraving tools, jewelry tools and many other more esoteric tools. The table at which she was working was filled with engraving tools, and small vials containing powdered jewels.
"I'm almost finished. I've decided to make the talisman a ring. Mainly, of course, for the benefit of the strength inherent in the Neverending Loop of Confinement, which the ring so easily represents."
"Good choice," approved Lenamare. "I take it you've inscribed the standard bindings for combat manipulation of a fourth order demon?"
"Of course, I used Pertwinge's Annulment of the Devious Destructive Demon, as well as Ekelios' Ectonic Shielding. Not to mention attuning it to the Kristel's Fourth Order Binding that I did yesterday."
"Good, you've inscribed the ring?"
"Yes, as you can see for yourself," she handed him the ring. "I admit, I did a rush job on the talisman, but it is perfect. It will allow any of us to command the demon with a minimum of effort during the battle."
He read the inside of the ring where the demon's name was inscribed, "Tomasedwardperkinje, fine. Odd name for a demon, but then they all are."
"Who did you want to help us in sealing the demon? Trisfelt?”
"No, I felt he was a bit weak, when we first bound the demon, let's use Master Hortwell. Elrose is busy planning the positioning of the other demons, and ensuring that they're ready.
"Hortwell is in the dungeon with some of the students, I believe they will need a few hours to manage the inspection of the wards. I'll send a messenger to Hortwell asking him to meet us in the same conjuring room we used last time, right after the evening meal?"
"Fine, I'll be done."
"Good enough," and Lenamare left the room.
Chapter 9
Tom slowly came to. What a nightmare he thought, I'll never smoke grass again. He kept his eyes tightly closed, he could feel the rocky ground around him in Reggie's back yard, where he must have fallen while stoned. "Helloooo," a voice shouted at him, "I can see you’re awake now, your wings moved."
Oh shit, it's not a dream, or it's still going. Tom recognized Tizzy's voice behind and above him. Slowly he opened his eyes. In front of him he could see his red, snout-like, nose and beyond that, the rocky Martian like surface of the demon plain, or was that plane? Tom thought weakly. He moaned as he tried to sit up, his muscles protested. They were still sore, but they didn't ache like they had. "Aah," he said as
he accidentally sat on his tail, bending it the wrong way. He stood up, since as he now recalled, sitting was rather difficult.
"Slept like a bat you did," Tizzy said. “’Cept, of course, you wasn’t hanging from your feet.” Tizzy’s voice was still distinct but a bit less shrill now, more grizzled. Did the demon have some sort of multiple-personality disorder? One could easily be excused for going crazy in this place.
Tom looked around; the desert seemed to stretch forever. Behind him was the pillar from which he fell, towering ungodly high and incredibly thin. Surely those pillars violate some law of physics? Tom thought to himself. In the distance to his right and before him was a range of mountains, apparently where he was supposed to be going. He searched for Boggy, but couldn't see the little demon anywhere.
Seeing him looking around, Tizzy said, "Boggy got called away, he'll be back as soon as possible."
"Called away?" Tom inquired.
"Yeah, you know, summoned, conjured, etcetera, went to see his favorite accursed master." He waved his pipe; smoke was coming out of the bowl, apparently, he’d been smoking while Tom was sleeping.
"Right, I should have guessed." Tom reluctantly began to remember all the things Boggy had told him. Eternal slavery, pain-dominated servitude, lifelong misery. What a thought to wake up to and to look forward to, thought Tom.
"Well, ready to fly again?"
"No. I think I'll walk."
"Take too long, and besides you'll never be able to cross the Styx."
"The Styx? As in river to the underworld, with the boat keeper?"
"You've heard of it? Yep. Favorite transportation of mortals, or at least dead mortals, through the Abyss. Travels the entire plane. And a major bitch to cross if you don't fly."
"I don't know. Last time was not fun." Tom looked down at the two holes in the ground nearby, where his legs had implanted themselves. "Besides, I really should eat something first."
"Are you hungry?"
"No…" Tom said, realizing it was true. He hadn't eaten anything in ages, and he'd been through a lot, but he was not hungry in the slightest.