Tizzy shook his head. “I only wish you’d told me in advance you were planning all this; I’d have figured out some way to set up a mirror feed to the Abyss and then charge admission at bars for demons to watch it.” The octopod shook a couple of index fingers at Tom. “Remember that next time and I’ll cut you in for a share!”
Tom grabbed his horns with his hands and just shook his head back and forth. “Argh!”
Bess purred as the gentle warm air of the fur dryer cascaded over her body from all directions, gently whipping the water from her body. She really missed the luxuries of home. The Abyss was so damn hot that it was impossible to get a decent bath, let alone a blow-dry. The Outpost, as they called it, did have air dryers but they were principally used for cool air on extra-hot days. Of course, that was every day in the Abyss; there were no seasons in that hellhole.
She had no idea how that place had come about. It had just always been there, certainly as long as she could remember, which was an incredibly long time. Like any normal deity, she had ignored it until they’d hatched this scheme about a hundred years ago, or no more like a hundred and fifty years ago — time flew. That’s when they’d built the Outpost and she’d “revealed” herself to the “Court.” Since then, she had had to spend the vast majority of her time there schmoozing demon princes and archdemons.
What morons. All of them, running around pretending to be evil. The evil of the demons was nothing compared to the evil of the Etonians. Now there was true evil with a capital “E.” It was hard to imagine she could hate any pantheon more than the Demi-Urge, but somehow the Etonians had managed to one up the biggest Ego in the multiverse. The Demi-Urge was just a crazed greedy narcissist, and not that bright; not bright enough to understand the concept of hypocrisy. The Etonians were a different story. They seemed to revel in hypocrisy.
Further, at least the Demi-Urge had the Adversary to oppose him. No one seriously opposed the Etonians and their massive land and soul grab. For one thing, their PR teams would quickly brand anyone standing in their way as “evil.” The joke of that!
“Enough!” Bess said aloud to herself. She could not allow herself to go down this path again. Too much anger was a distraction. It made her boil inside, and she needed to be cold. As cold as the Abyss was hot. Bess exited the dryer chamber into the poolroom. Anup was still in the pool. She admired his trim muscular form, his firm muzzle and sharpened canines, his silky long ears pointing straight up. The jackal had to be one of the most beautiful creatures after the cat, Bess thought idly, smiling to herself.
“Do you have to go so soon?” Anup asked, licking his maw with a lustful stare.
“Three times is enough for one morning.” Bess smiled playfully at him.
“Yes, but when I only get one morning every decade, I should be entitled to make-up sex for all the missed mornings!”
Bess arched her eyebrow. “Men. You are all the same. You confuse a man’s entitlement with a woman’s gifts. Two things that only occasionally coincide.” Anup chuckled. “Besides, I must meet with General Thuti to assess the recovery of the troops we lost when Lenamare blew up his castle.”
“That was painful; you could literally hear a roar as the Wheel of Life sped up to unprecedented levels to hold the lost souls until they can be reborn. I’m still amazed it was able to handle that large of an influx so incredibly fast.”
“Usiris is good. You have to admit that,” Bess stated.
“That I will give him.” Anup gave her a grim smile. “It’s not his skill that annoys me.”
Bess laughed.
Vaselle dropped his backpack in the clearing. It was midmorning and he was finally outside the city. He had tried to get out yesterday, but they were still under lockdown. As of this morning, however, the city guard were finally letting people leave the city, and letting them back in, but with significant inspections and long lines. However, he would worry about that later. For now, he was outside of the city and outside those damn wards that had driven all the demons out, and which completely prevented him from conjuring his demon back.
It was seriously annoying, but given the power he had witnessed from the walls yesterday, the council’s precautions certainly made sense. It was just inconvenient that sensible precautions were keeping him from realizing his dreams. Although, he supposed, the fact that such sensible inconveniences were impeding him might be an indication that he should heed them.
But how could he? What he had seen yesterday, what that demon lord had done to the priests... Was that not his dream? To be filled with the divine spirit? Okay, maybe a negatively divine spirit in this case, but... seriously, to be the servant of a being capable of standing toe-to-toe against the forces of Tiernon and winning? A being capable of subverting, infiltrating and manipulating those same priests and soldiers that had rejected him?
Vaselle was off the road by a half-hour walk, surely far enough to avoid attention. He began pulling his components from his backpack to set up his pentacles. Vaselle smiled to remember the tales of Myrion, the old priest of Hendel who had spent hours tutoring him when he was a young boy. His stories of how the spirit of his god, Hendel, would enter him to perform healings and miracles. The peace and joy that came from being filled with the divine spirit, to be the willing tool of a greater power, a greater good.
He had dreamed of being a priest and letting a god fill him, use him to work the god’s will upon Astlan. He had first entered the seminary of Hendel as an aspirant spending a year learning the ins and outs of the religion, but when it came time to dedicate himself, the priests had informed him that he did not have the calling. His nature was not a good fit for the god; he was not really priestly material. The bitterness, the disillusionment had hurt. To this day, this memory brought tears to his eyes.
He had then thought maybe a different god, a different Etonian. There were no proscriptions against changing one’s devotion between the different Etonian gods. He tried to get accepted as an initiate of Tiernon with again the same answer. Okay, fine. He could dedicate himself to the Rod. Be a soldier for Tiernon. That had lasted about two months when they gave up on him as being a failure at most traditional weapons skills, and again, not a great spiritual fit. Either liability was forgivable, but not both.
Thus, Vaselle had decided that if he could not be a servant of a higher power, he’d be the higher power. He had gotten accepted at Master Yeltsin’s School of Conjury; and while starting very late, it proved to be something he was actually talented at. He often mused that perhaps it was his very talent for summoning and controlling others, particularly demons, that made him not a great fit for the priesthood.
He laughed as he sketched out the pentacles in the area he had cleared of forest debris and grass. Clearly being talented in demonology would be contraindicated for Etonian priesthood. So perhaps that had been for the best. The priests must have known or Seen something in his future. It might have been nice for them to explain or mention it to him; it would have saved him a lot of pain. However, given that Etonian priests did not like conjurors, pointing him in that direction would not have been something they would have wanted to do.
There; the pentacle was complete, the brazier set. He lit the fire and began his chant. It was the standard conjuring for a bound fiend. A type II demon that he knew well. At home, he had permanent pentacles set up and inscribed for conjuring this particular demon, but that was not working now, thanks to the Council’s anti-demon wards. It had certainly been a shocker when Estrebrius had suddenly jumped up and slammed the door open and fled Vaselle’s house with no warning. Vaselle had followed, yelling and screaming at the demon to return, but it just made a beeline over the city walls. Vaselle had quickly cast a flying spell and took off after the demon as it flew over the city, but had been stopped at the wall.