The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (59 page)

Tal Gor raised his eyebrows in surprise, scrambled from his tent, and hurried quickly to the main campfire, where the band was gathering to break their fast. “Everyone! Listen!”

“Still talking to your dream gods, Tal Gor?” his brother Fel Nor teased him with a broad grin.

“It’s no dream! Lord Tommus and his D’Orcs want to hunt! They are coming soon and twenty of our best hunters are invited to hunt with them!” Tal Gor exclaimed.

Horrgus turned and gave him a bleary eye. “What are you babbling about, boy?”

Tal Gor quickly recounted his experience last night for the tribe members who had been in their tents when he had told people last night. He could see people rolling their eyes at his story. Clearly, no one believed him any more today than the group late last night had.

Sal Gor, his father, shook his head. “Tal Gor, did you hit your head or something? You are making no sense.”

“It is real, father, I swear! You will see shortly when Lord Tommus brings his hunting party here! They are also going to bring D’Wargs for our hunters to ride today.”

“D’Wargs?” His older sister Soo An asked.

Tal Gor shrugged. “I assume they are demon wargs. All I know is that the hunting party will be flying and so they need to bring flying mounts for our hunters!”

Bor Tal, his oldest brother walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “We need to check you brother, perhaps you were bitten by a viperclaw? Its poison causes false visions.” He gestured to Tris An, his aunt the band’s healer, to come over.

“I was not bitten! I am telling you, Lord Tommus is the ruler of Mount Doom and the heir to the mighty Orcus!” Tal Gor tried to explain. At this point, even Horrgus was rolling his eyes in disbelief. Tal Gor shrugged off his brother’s hand and marched up to the main fire.

“You need to listen! Lord Tommus will be coming soon, and his hunters shall hunt. We have an invitation for twenty hunters to join them. This is something that hasn’t been seen on the plains of Norelon in thousands of years!” Tal Gor told them, turning around to face the gathering band. At this point most of the band had come out of their tents to see what all the commotion was.

Horrgus shook his head and then winced. He came over to Tal Gor. “Come, boy, let’s go back to my tent with Tris An so we can take a look at you for bite marks.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” Tal Gor asked, annoyed.

“You do understand this is a bit farfetched, yes?” his father asked him.

“No. I am a shaman and I am sworn to Lord Tommus, see?” Tal Gor stuck out his palm for people to see the scar. Horrgus stared at it, as did Soo An. His father also came closer to look.

“That’s a fully healed scar!” Horrgus said, rubbing it.

“It looks like it’s been there for years,” Soo An added. “But I’m sure I would have noticed you getting that scar. It’s also an odd scar.”

“It mirrors the image on the Talisman of Tommus!” Tal Gor said.

“The Talisman of Tommus?” Horrgus asked.

“Well, it used to be the Talisman of Orcus, but since Tommus replaced him…” Tal Gor trailed off.

Horrgus shook his head. “You know those stories are myths? I know you’ve always been fascinated with the dead god and tales of glory, but at this point they are just tales.”

Tal Gor shook his head. “No, they are real, and there is going to be a hunting party, today!” Tal Gor could see several heads shaking in disbelief. They thought he was crazy. Suddenly his hand ached.

“Ready to open the gate?”
Lord Tommus asked in his head.

“I am not having a lot of luck getting others to believe me, My Lord,”
Tal Gor replied.

He felt the demon lord grin.
“Their belief is not necessary; reality should be sufficient. Go to the fire and thrust your hand with the scar into the flames. You won’t get burnt.”

“Boy?” Horrgus asked the zoned-out Tal Gor.

“He’s coming. They are coming, now you will see!” Tal Gor shook off their concerned hands, ducked around them and walked as quickly as his leg would let him to the central fire. He thrust his left hand into the flames.

“Tal Gor!” His mother yelled, thinking he had lost his mind.

“Lord Tommus, Master of Mount Doom, come now, enter our world of Astlan! Bring forth your hunting party!” Tal Gor shouted. His brother Bor Tal moved towards him to pull his hand from the fire; yet even as he did, the large campfire burst into twice its height, completely engulfing and obscuring the grate with the porridge pot on it.

“My porridge!” Toth Bagg the cook screamed in concern.

The flames continued up and up, overflowing the rocks of the fire pit. The fire was now roaring far louder than should have been possible for the amount of wood present. It was bigger than the largest bonfire Tal Gor had ever seen. Suddenly, the middle of the flames seemed to tear, ripping open into another reality. There was a giant, one-sided hole in the flames! Nearby orcs scrambled to peer into the tear in reality.

Through the hole, one could see what looked to be a large staging area, crowded with a very odd assortment of large, winged orcs with supersized tusks and hooves. There were also what looked like a bunch of huge wargs, also with wings and tusk-like fangs.

Suddenly the large head of Lord Tommus popped through the hole from one side, and then his entire huge body stepped through into the camp. He grinned down at Tal Gor, or at least Tal Gor hoped it was a grin. “Thank you, shaman.” He surveyed the band and the camp, his eyes narrowing slightly, most likely at the rather sorry sight the band presented.

“I am Tommus, Master of Mount Doom,” Tommus announced in his booming voice. Tal Gor had to clench himself; the demon lord was far more terrifying in person than he had been in his dreams. “Mount Doom is preparing for a feast and our hunters need to hunt in the Planes of Orcs once more.” He looked around to the various warriors of the band. “In exchange for the assistance of your shaman”—he gestured to Tal Gor—“we invite twenty of your tribe to hunt with us.” He looked around, obviously noting that none of the tribe were geared for hunting yet. Tal Gor hung his head at his failure.

Suddenly there was movement at the hole as a woman stepped through into the camp. Tal Gor had to blink.
Wow!
he thought to himself. She had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Okay, so she had wings and hooves, but was she ever gorgeous! Tal Gor looked around and noted that he was not the only man in the camp staring at her. He had heard humans call certain women breathtaking, all orcs had, but this had to be the first time he had ever seen a woman who could literally be said to take one’s breath away.

“Allow me to introduce my commander, Vespa Crooked Stick,” Lord Tommus said.

Crooked Stick?
Tal Gor felt his heart thud. This incredible D’Orc woman was blood? How had Crooked Stick blood ever created something like this? He could see several other men shaking their heads with the same thought.

“Shut your gaping holes, morons!” Vespa yelled to the men of the camp whose mouths were open. “You look like you’ve never seen a woman before!” She scowled in disapproval. “I could have gutted each and every one of you vermin by this point.” Tal Gor noted several warriors uncomfortably adjusting their loincloths or pants, depending on what they were wearing.

“Now, I see none of you so-called warriors is ready to hunt.” She shook her head. “Understand this: you are of my tribe. If you ever ignore the instructions of Lord Tommus’s shaman again, you will answer to me. Is that clear?” Several of the warriors nodded; others mumbled acknowledgements.

“I can’t hear you, worms! I asked you a question; I expect an answer. Fail me again, and I will beat you into a coma that will last a quarter month!” Vespa snarled.

The band members answered affirmatively this time with “yes, ma’am,” “yes, Commander,” and other similar verbal responses, many of them quite enthusiastically. Tal Gor had to admit, this woman was an old-style leader, and her charisma and leadership style clearly matched her beauty.

Vespa nodded and glanced to Lord Tommus, who nodded approvingly. Commander Vespa gestured towards the hole for others to come through, and suddenly people had to scramble to make room for the large D’Orc warriors decked out in their hunting gear to come through the inter-dimensional gateway in the middle of their cooking fire.

Tal Gor counted twenty D’Orcs of various ages and bloodlines, some of which he had never seen before. The two tall, thinner, pale white orcs with red eyes were particularly unusual.

“This is Virok Soul Wrecker of Erdnalia III on the Visteroth plane. He is our huntmaster today.” Vespa gestured to the older of the two tall, pale orcs. “In matters of the hunt, his word is my word and law. Do you understand?” She glared at the Crooked Stick orcs.

“Yes, ma’am,” or some variant was heard from each member of the tribe.

“As I’m sure you are aware, Tal Gor shall be selecting twenty of you to join us on this hunt.” Vespa grinned. “I’m sure many of you will be regretting your failure to trust his word earlier. Try not to sob too hard at losing out on what will certainly be the most glorious event in all of your lives to date. If you aren’t chosen, that means you’ll just need to prove your worth to our shaman before we return to hunt here again!”

Tal Gor tried to suppress a joyous grin and look properly annoyed. This was clearly the best day of his life; he certainly did not want to show it!

Talarius woke with a start.
What time is it?
he wondered. It was dark in the room, of course; there was no window and he had been lighting the room with his armor, which had gone out once he fell asleep. He willed the armor to light and began to get dressed. It was somewhat disturbing to note that his padding was completely dry. The air in the room was a bit dry, at least compared to the rest of the mountain complex since the rain had started. It was not, however, dry enough that his under-padding should have dried out within a few minutes.

Talarius walked over and dragged the giant wardrobe away from the door as soon as he was girded with his various vestments, armor, weapons and accouterments. Even with the strength boost he got from his gauntlets, the dresser was heavy; the very reason he’d used it to block the door. He opened the door and walked out into the main room to see daylight streaming through the balcony doors. The octopod and Boggy were playing some card game, Antefalken was perched on a chair back, oiling his harp, and the other demons were off somewhere.

“Well, if it isn’t sleeping beauty?” Tizzy asked or perhaps stated, grinning maliciously at Talarius.

Talarius glared at the demon through his helmet. Apparently, the demon somehow knew he had fallen asleep without his armor and was intent on irritating him.

“Where is everyone?” Talarius asked, ignoring the demon’s jibe.

Boggy looked up. “Rupert is off with Fer-Rog somewhere; Tom is with his commanders arranging hunts for the feast; and Reggie and Estrebrius are still in Astlan as far as I know.” By coincidence, even as Boggy spoke, Reggie materialized in the room, sighing and quickly sitting down.

“Rough night?” Tizzy’s eyebrows were making those obscene leering motions again. Talarius found this exceedingly discomforting. Not that there was anything particularly comforting about the vile multi-pod; however, this was even more disquieting than his usual behavior.

Reggie closed his eyes. “Yes, more dream sex training. I am not enjoying it.”

Tizzy shook his head as if not understanding. “Kids today! In my day, it was all sex, drugs and rock and roll! What has become of this new generation?”

Reggie glared at him. “You are a twenty-plus-thousand-year-old demon. How do you even know about rock and roll?”

“I used to party with Keith Richards every time he came to the astral plane, which was quite often,” Tizzy said.

Reggie shook his head, clearly not sure who that was; Talarius certainly had no idea.

“What I want to know,” Boggy interrupted, “is how do these wizards know how to train an incubus? Doesn’t that seem a bit odd?”

Antefalken looked up. “A bit; however, it’s not impossible. Wizards and animages have employed both incubi and succubi for centuries. While I am sure it is not taught in any normal schools, the knowledge is probably out there.”

Boggy shrugged. “Where is your accursed master? Do you know?”

Reggie shrugged. “I’ve really only seen her tower, but she and one of her associates mentioned Memphis. I assume it’s not the one I am familiar with.”

“Never heard of it,” Boggy said. Antefalken also shook his head.

Talarius supposed it was a good thing these demons did not know Astlanian geography. “It’s in Natoor,” he said.

“What is Natoor?” Boggy asked.

“It’s a continent south of Eton, immediately west of Najaar,” Talarius replied.

Antefalken was nodding his head. “I’ve been to both of those continents. I don’t recall a town called Memphis, though.”

“It is an archaic name for New Krinna. The name Memphis has not been widely used in a thousand years,” Talarius said.

“Ohh, okay, New Krinna I am familiar with. Never been there,” Antefalken said.

“How old is your master that he uses a thousand-year-old name?” Boggy asked Reggie.

Reggie shook his head, “Mistress. And she’s not that old, maybe thirty.”

Talarius shrugged. “Perhaps she is a heretic.”

Boggy looked at him. “A heretic?”

Talarius nodded. “There have been heretics on both continents ever since we arrived to free the people living on them. Throwbacks to their old dead gods.”

“You mean like Orcus?” Tizzy grinned.

“Orcus was a demon, not a god.” Talarius glared at Tizzy. “Since you were apparently buddies with the foul one, I should think you would know that.”

“The orcs thought he was a god,” Tizzy said, still grinning. Clearly, the annoying creature was needling him.

“Orcs? Orcs are unethical, malignant barbarians and thugs. I’m not surprised they would have such low standards for a deity.”

“I dare you to go out in the corridors and start shouting that,” Tizzy said slyly.

“I am not stupid, demon,” Talarius replied. Why did he even engage this annoying thing? It had been gratifying to note that several of the old D’Orcs had not appeared too fond of Tizzy. Apparently the demon had been remarkably consistent over the last several thousand years.

~

Tal Gor finally finished selecting the twenty band members to join the hunt. It had actually been quite difficult, they were all essentially family. Or at least extended family. That, in fact, had been a big problem; he had his mother and father, two brothers and his sister. He finally decided to pick his siblings and told his parents that next time they could go. After that, well, he frankly went with those who had been the nicest to him over the last few years. A few had been more than difficult, or made nasty remarks about wishing him dead. They did not get selected.

His selected hunters sped off to their tents as Tal Gor turned to watch what was happening at the gate. Lord Tommus came over to him.

“I have another hunting party to send out in Etterdam in a few hours, so I will leave to take care of that and some other issues. What Vespa and I have discussed is that, when you have one or more large kills, contact me through our binding. We will then create a gateway to haul the kills to Mount Doom. We will store the kills for your warriors there in a cold room, and when the party returns, we will open a gate here and deliver the kills directly to camp. This will be much more efficient than trying to lug them around all day.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Tal Gor nodded. “How many kills are you expecting?”

“As many as we can reasonably and honorably get. I’ve got a lot of D’Orcs expecting a feast and they can eat a lot of meat.” Tommus smiled and patted Tal Gor on the shoulder. The demon lord’s giant claws caused Tal Gor to tense a bit in apprehension, but the demon lord was careful not to skewer him. Tal Gor felt a tingling of excitement; Lord Tommus had said he would be creating a gateway from the kill sites so apparently he would get to go along. This was truly the best day of his life.

He glanced over to see a couple of the D’Orcs at the edge of camp swatting at the tall plains grasses. He could not figure out what they were doing. It was extremely odd behavior, so he started wandering closer.

“Who ever heard of hairy ground?” one of the D’Orcs asked the other as he started pulling on some strands of four-foot high grass.

“It makes no sense. Why would the ground need hair? It does not sweat. It does not feel cold,” the other D’Orc said.

One of the more battle-scarred D’Orcs sneered at them. “It’s grass, you morons!”

“Grass?” the first D’Orc asked, looking up with a scowl.

“You mean the stuff that you old timers used to smoke after battle?” the second orc asked.

The older D’Orc shook his head in frustration. “No. That’s just a word we used for it. What we smoked was a distant relative, more like a weed that grew in hillocks and groves. This is regular grass. It is a plant that is eaten by a wide variety of animals, including those we hunt today.”

The older D’Orc turned to head back to the portal and spotted Tal Gor. He grinned. “These idiots were born in the Abyss, and have never been to the Planes of Orcs. Teaching and talking only goes so far; at some point you have to
do
.” He paraphrased the old orc saying. “You and your tribe mates won’t be the only ones on their first winged hunting party! We are going to be lucky if some of these bone-brains don’t get the heads and tails confused and slit the tail rather than the neck!” He shook his head and grinned.

Tal Gor chuckled as he turned his attention back to the portal.

The D’Orcs had just finished carrying tack and other gear through the gateway when a loud ruckus started on the other side. It sounded like a few hundred wargs! There were not actually that many, but they were loud and eager to hunt. D’Wargs were larger than the largest wargs Tal Gor had ever seen, and they had massive wings and claws nearly as fierce as Lord Tommus’s. The unusual tack that the D’Orcs had brought through now made sense.

About four D’Wargs had come through; others were preparing to follow when there arose some truly hideous snarls and growls. The D’Wargs that had been lined up to come through were forced back as what had to be the ugliest, scariest-looking D’Warg of them all barged through the gateway; spitting and snarling.

Tal Gor had no real idea how to judge age on a D’Warg; he supposed it was similar to a warg. If so, this was a rather old and very heavily scarred D’Warg. Its snout and jaw had apparently been broken and reset at some point, and its eyes were slightly off kilter, as if its skull had been somehow skewed. The head was huge with teeth so large and twisted, the D’Wargs’ lips could not close over them.

Further, as the D’Warg walked, it limped slightly. Not so much as in pain, as Tal Gor did, but more as if its leg lengths were different; or perhaps, Tal Gor thought, its hips and shoulders were at different angles. In any event, the ugly beast was glaring at everyone and everything as it came through the gate; the other D’Wargs fell back to give the hissing and spitting creature room.

Vespa groaned. “Tar Roth Non!” she yelled to a younger D’Orc on the other side of the gateway, who was working to get the D’Wargs through. “What is Schwarzenfürze doing here? You know no one can ride her! She won’t tolerate anyone and hasn’t since my great grandfather, Helmut, passed!”

“I’m sorry Commander, but when she saw the hunters gathering the saddles and harnesses, she started making all sorts of noises. Then when I began selecting the D’Wargs for this hunt, she butted through them and insisted on coming. I tried to grab her and stop her, but you know what she’s like!” Tar Roth Non shook his head forlornly. “When she’s in a mood like this, she doesn’t respond to commands!”

Vespa closed her eyes and shook her head as the beast glared around the camp and began snorting and sniffing at various orcs, all of whom tried to give her a wide birth. “Argh, did you get another then? We need enough for our companions.”

“Uh, yes, ma’am. I did,” Tar Roth Non said, stammering.

Tommus was grinning. “You seem to have things under control, Vespa, except perhaps for this D’Warg.” He chuckled; it sounded quite evil. “I need to get back. Tar Roth Non, can you clear some space?”

The young D’Orc nodded and shepherded a couple of D’Wargs out of the way, and Lord Tommus went back through the gateway.

Tal Gor jumped as something wet banged up against his bad leg. He glanced back and around. He had been so distracted by Lord Tommus’s departure that he had not seen the ugly D’Warg make its way around to him. It was poking its nose at his bad leg, and then in his butt crack, sniffing. Tal Gor stood perfectly still; this was clearly not a friendly D’Warg.

The D’Warg, Schwarzenfürze they had called her, stepped back and eyed him up and down as if trying to decide if he was a worthy meal. It then snorted as if in contempt and looked around the camp. After a moment, she moved again towards Tal Gor, pushing him with her muzzle, shoving him in the direction she had been staring.

Tal Gor nearly lost his footing; he twisted to stare at Vespa, not sure what he should do. Vespa was staring back at him, or more precisely, at Schwarzenfürze, and she seemed to be completely shocked.

“What does she want, Commander?” Tal Gor asked rather helplessly as the D’Warg shoved him again.

“I am not sure. It certainly can’t be what it looks like. I’ve known her my entire life; this is not like her.”

“What should I do?” Tal Gor asked.

“Unless you want to fall and be trampled by her claws, I’d suggest you move where she’s pushing you,” Vespa said. The other D’Orcs were also staring at the D’Warg.

She pushed him again, so Tal Gor moved forward, and the D’Warg pushed him again. He just kept moving where she pushed him. After a few pushes they were next to the saddles and harnesses the D’Orcs had brought through the gateway.

“By Lilith’s bloody teat!” one of the D’Orcs cursed. “I think the bitch wants him to ride her!”

“Ridiculous!” another exclaimed. “She won’t let anyone ride her. Even when she was mortal, she was a mean one; only Helmut could ride her. Even Vera, his wife, couldn’t get close.”

Tal Gor suddenly found himself sprawled on a saddle after the D’Warg pushed him into the pile. He looked at Vespa.

The commander was shaking her head. “Well, lad, I cannot in a million years believe this, but I think I’m going to have to show you how to saddle Schwarzenfürze. A D’Warg is different than a warg; the wings and the fact that you fly a thousand feet or more above ground makes the harness quite different.” She shook her head. “The rest of you Crooked Sticks, pay attention now. All the other D’Wargs will be simple to saddle in comparison.”