“Fleet Ho!” Called his second. “All stations ready! Prepare for lift off. Unfurl the sails.” As word was given to the fleet via his second’s amulet, the glorious golden sails of Oorstemoth began to unfurl from the masts of each vessel in the fleet. All in perfectly timed unison, on each ship, three sails per mast, three masts per ship. The banners of Oorstemoth riding proudly atop the center mast of each ship. Heron balanced himself on his experienced legs as the ship rocked in its berth.
His crew, nay, his entire fleet operated as a well-oiled machine. He had no fear on this cause. As one, the twenty-one Sky Ships of Oorstemoth rose stately and majestically into the air above the Plain of Justice. Heron turned to look over his own ship. The crew moving in precise, never wasted motions brought the great airship into the morning sky.
At two hundred feet, Heron nodded to his second, who waved his arm, giving the order for the ships to proceed forward over the city. Tethers were released allowing the ships to move forward. The ships continued to climb, naturally, needing the altitude to clear the Seven Towers of Law, five hundred feet tall each. As the ships began to move forward in formation, the Beloved Anthem of Oorstemoth swelled as if from the very bosoms of the ships. In reality, it was the combined voices of all the sailors singing the hymn together as one voice of many parts.
As his flagship crossed over the Gate of Peace on the Boulevard of Right, Heron could see the cheering citizens of the city. Up early to see the Leave Taking. Crowds lined the boulevard, cheering and singing the anthem themselves. Heron was proud of his people, proud of his men and women, proud of the support from the populace. Even on such extremely short notice, the citizens had come forth to bid the fleet Law’s Speed. As tears threatened to flow from his eyes, Heron had to reprimand himself for being an old fashioned sentimentalist. These ancient traditions always threatened to choke him, ever since he was a small lad on the boulevard below watching his first Leave-taking, the 1371st Fleet. Twenty years ago, when he’d led his first fleet, the 1400th, he’d thought the moment could never be recaptured. He’d since learned that every Leave Taking under his command would leave him with the same feelings.
Heron squinted at the sunlight reflecting off the Towers of Law ahead. They were now approaching rapidly. The ships would cross over the top of the Towers, still following the boulevard and then exit over the Gate of War. At that point they would change course slightly, heading north over the sea, and continue to gain altitude in order to sail over the mountains north of Hoggensforth. They wouldn’t have to climb too fast. It would be a while before they even reached Hoggensforth. In all, Heron calculated they should be able traverse the nearly twelve hundred miles and arrive in Freehold at about sunset tomorrow. He would have to rely on Wylan and Fiernon to ensure the suspects didn’t flee again, or if they did, to track them.
Rupert sat in the tent, worrying about what to do. He was in a nice tent, he’d had a nice cot to sleep on, and been given new clothes. Clothes of a Rod member, but clothes nonetheless. A little bit ago, a soldier had come in and delivered him some food for breakfast. The soldier had also courteously inquired if he could get Rupert anything. At the time there was nothing else Rupert needed. There had been water for washing and a separate curtained off area with a chamber pot. A very nice tent overall. Rupert really had to contrast the way the Rod treated prisoners with the way Exador’s people treated prisoners. For comfort, he’d take the Rod any day.
Everyone had gone out of their way to be polite, kind and understanding. Certainly a strange way to treat prisoners. Of course, he wasn’t exactly sure he was a prisoner. There didn’t seem to be a guard outside of his tent, on the other hand, with so many attentive soldiers all over the place, it didn’t seem necessary. The soldier who’d brought breakfast had asked if Rupert would mind if Talarius and a priest were to interview him a bit later in the morning. Rupert had been nervous about that, wondering belatedly if a priest could detect lies. Rupert didn’t see much choice but to agree to the interview. The young man had been polite about the whole thing though. The Rod were really nice guys. If only, Rupert mused, they weren’t a bunch of genocidal maniacs dedicated to slaying his people.
“You say you haven’t seen Rupert since yesterday?” Maelen asked Edwyrd over breakfast. Edwyrd had just raised his concern to the seer as they sat down to eat. This morning it was Gastropé, Edwyrd and Maelen eating breakfast. Jenn and her friends had been commandeered early by Lenamare for some task. Edwyrd was thankful for that. He didn’t relish having to tell Jenn that Rupert was missing.
Maelen bit into a piece of melon he was eating. He seemed to be thinking for a moment. “I don’t know, I can try and search the palace for him, but it will take a while to cover the whole place.”
“Would you?” Edwyrd asked.
“Certainly, I’d have to do it anyway, given what I’ve seen around here.”
“Given what you’ve seen! We forgot to tell you about what we’ve seen!” Gastropé stated. Gastropé looked around the dining room to make sure no invisible demons were near and proceeded to relate the previous day’s events to Maelen. He spoke softly and quickly, trying to avoid any demons noticing them from a distance and getting closer. Maelen raised his eyebrows several times. At first he seemed skeptical, but when Gastropé got to the part where Damien had seen them as well, he became more convinced. When they mentioned what the Rod had told Damien, Maelen got positively pale. “This will certainly require investigation.” Maelen said as Gastropé finished.
“I was beginning to think they’d never leave.” Antefalken told Damien as the last of the council filed out of Damien’s quarters. Damien had sent all of the councilors, with the exception of Lenamare, Jehenna, Exador and Randolf, who were suspect, and Zilquar who was still unaccounted for, a sudden and urgent request to join him for breakfast. Each one thought they were individually invited to some urgent private meeting. When they’d all arrived, surprised to see each other, Damien had explained why he’d invited them. Damien hadn’t wanted to hold a normal session because of the possibility of alerting the demons. When he’d explained about the demons’ presence, there had naturally been the expected uproar. After about half an hour, he’d managed to convince them to at least believe him until they had a chance to verify for themselves that the palace was infested.
That had been the easy part, what followed was three hours of typical discussion about where the demons came from and what they were doing. Damien had also felt obliged to point out what the Rod had said about archdemons. He had not been disappointed by the shock in the others’ faces.
Even without this shock, they were still at a loss as to what to do. They could try and eliminate all the demons, but this would certainly notify the master of the demons. That could bring retaliatory action. More precisely, if they didn’t get rid of the root of the problem first, they’d run the risk of a blood bath in the palace. For one thing, they’d also have to move very fast to eliminate the demons, before any could go on a rampage, even if they did take out the master first.
The problem, of course, had been the fact that no one knew who owned the demons. What was somewhat clear, was that the demons had something to do with Lenamare and Exador’s fight. Probably the book, Damien had thought, but he did not mention this to the others. One suggestion that had been popular for a while was to have a full inquisition with Lenamare and Exador and get the whole issue on the table. Then Trevin D’Vils had brought up the possibility that either Exador or Lenamare could be in league with the archdemons, or under the control of the archdemons, which Damien himself feared but had been unwilling to voice.