The soldier shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m just a corporal; they don’t tell me everything. But our people have had both Visions and physical sightings of the Archaedemon.” Trisfelt was turning pale. They’d had physical sightings of an archdemon? That would certainly more than explain the presence of the Rod on the continent. One of the things that the Knights of Tiernon were famous for was hunting beings of eviclass="underline" undead, dragons, demons. Trisfelt rubbed his forehead. The soldier looked on sympathetically. “I’m only telling you this because I don’t want to see the children harmed, and because you are a wizard and so will understand. I don’t think it’s too good an idea to spread this around at the moment, it would certainly cause panic.” Trisfelt could only agree.
“Thank you for telling me.” Whatever the case, his spell told him that the soldier was telling the truth as he knew it. The soldier nodded seriously and walked back to his horse. As he waved bye to the children, riding back to join the now departed Rod, Trisfelt climbed slowly into the driver’s seat. He’d have to contact Lenamare on this.
“A what?” Jehenna shouted. Lenamare made hushing noises at her. He’d caught her in a side passageway, on her way to take her evening bath. They’d stepped into an unused alcove; fortunately, at this time in the evening, the entire hallway was relatively untrafficked.
“You heard me. An archdemon.” Lenamare was staring intently into her eyes.
“This can’t be right.” Jehenna was as close to nervous as she ever let anyone see. She rubbed her forehead a couple of times. “How sure is Trisfelt?” She asked, angrily.
“He says he’s convinced that the soldier believed it to be the truth. At the very least, even if there is no archdemon entourage on its way, we’ll soon have to put up with the Rod of Tiernon.”
“I can’t believe this,” Jehenna said. Her voice cold with anger. “Sure, we speculated that the archdemons might get involved. Eventually they’d have to, but it doesn’t seem possible that they are already on to us. If one is on his way here...”
“It means that things are really getting bad, and we will have to devote everything to finding the book before it gets here. We’ve also got to adjust our plans.” Lenamare looked around. “However, here is neither the place nor the time.” He whispered. “Let’s preserve appearance, take your bath, gather your thoughts. We’ll pull an all-night planning session.”
“An archdemon?” Exador looked down at the small imp that had brought him the news. It had certainly paid to have these things placed in all the public corridors. If only he could get away with putting them in private quarters. Unfortunately they would be too easy to detect, and too much a breach of etiquette. “But, they didn’t say which one?” The small imp shook its head, trembling in fear.
“Damn,” Exador cursed to himself. “Just what I need. Well, at least Lenamare’s now confirmed what I already know. He doesn’t have the book.” He ignored the imp. He looked to the large water powered clock in the corner. He tried to figure out where his ‘allies’ would be at this hour.
Exador vanished from the room.
Exador reappeared in a long marble corridor. Looking around, he saw no one. Quickly he hurried down the long corridor, sparing not a glance for the large windows to the right and left. Red light shown brightly through the windows, daytime, as usual when he arrived. Down the corridor and up a flight of stairs. The second door on the left, if he remembered correctly, which he should, the last time he’d been there was only week ago.
As he barged into the room, Ramses hurriedly stood up from the piano he’d been playing. “Where’s Bess?” Exador demanded.
“How should I know? I assume she’s at her home.” He glared at Exador. “Do you make it a habit of barging in unannounced to everybody’s home?”
Exador ignored Ramses’ outburst. “Get her. We’ve got problems. More players.” Ramses stared at Exador for a moment, finally catching the import of what he said. Ramses walked over to a nearby mirror. Hurriedly he waved his hand in front of it a few times. Bess appeared in the mirror.
“Yessssss...” she purred, somewhat annoyed by the sudden call.
“Exador’s here. He says we’ve got unexpected players in the game.” Bess’ eyes widened slightly, then narrowed, catlike. Suddenly she was no longer in the mirror, but rather in the room with them. She looked directly at Exador.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” Exador said, pacing. “What I do know, is that the Rod of Tiernon is marching on Freehold.” Both of his allies shook their heads in surprise. They were more than familiar with the Rod.
“Talarius?” Bess asked. A slow purr coming from her throat.
“Probably, I didn’t get the whole message, but at least one knight on a flying horse.”
“Who else would it be?” Ramses asked rhetorically.
“Further,” Exador continued, “they are marching on Freehold because they believe some archdemon and his entourage is going to Freehold. Apparently, planning some sort of assault.”
“But you don’t know which archdemon?” Ramses asked. Exador shook his head negatively, in agreement.
“Then,” Bess purred, “we can’t be sure it’s not just rumor. You know how the Rod always overreacts to demonic threats.”
Exador bent his head in concession. “However, Lenamare and Jehenna are planning strategies for both contingencies; I suggest we do the same.” Ramses grimaced, unable to disagree with logic. Bess stroked her chin, thinking, Exador guessed, about getting her paws on Talarius.
Maelen settled down beside the fire. He decided that maybe he was getting to old for the adventuring life. He would be ninety-two next quarter month, certainly time to start thinking about retiring. Slimemold! Most people his age were thinking about dying. He wasn’t quite ready to start thinking if that for a couple decades yet, but a gentler life-style might not be uncalled for. Traveling with wizards, demons and fellow animages who pretended to be something other than they were, was just asking too much. Ah well, he thought, that is the price of his vision.
Thinking of his vision, Maelen decided he’d better perform his nightly chore. For the last few decades, any time he camped in the wilderness, before settling down for the night, he’d scan the terrain for any possibly hostile activity. Maelen relaxed into a near trance state and opened his senses to the world. Nothing in the immediate ground vicinity. Up he projected his viewpoint, raising his viewpoint a few hundred feet off the ground, he looked in all directions.
Curious, there seem to be an abnormal amount of light a few miles back along the trail. Extending his senses this way wouldn’t allow him to see what was going on there, his Sight would. Strange, actually, he didn’t recall anything in that region when they passed through it. Maelen stared into the fire, remembering the area in his mind’s eye.
Damien put down the most recent message he’d just received via winged courier from Hoggensforth. He stared thoughtfully out at the night sky. “The Rod of Tiernon sailed into Hoggensforth last night.” Antefalken’s strumming ceased.
“This morning, an individual on a winged horse was seen to land in the Rod’s encampment. Shortly thereafter, they broke camp and departed. Headed for Yorkton.” Damien told his bard.
“Unless I miss my guess.” Antefalken replied thoughtfully, “Yorkton lies on the road between Hoggensforth and here. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“Now,” Antefalken continued, “unless I miss my guess, Yorkton is not a particularly interesting place.” Damien simply nodded and turned to look at Antefalken. His back to the cool night air coming in through the window, he crossed his arms on his chest. “Thus they’re most likely coming here.”