“Ahh,” Ramses said, suddenly understanding.
Exador smiled. “Exactly. Morthador enjoys the really deep, dark caverns and has no trouble spending time underground. He can intercept those communication lines.”
Ramses chuckled. “Quite clever.”
Exador smiled. “Thank you.” He rotated slightly toward the darker part of the room. “Morthador, what news do you bring?”
“The enchantress shall be journeying very shortly to the Grove with an entourage and shall then be taking the Nimbus out to investigate urgent Seeings of orc uprisings in Murgandy and Jotungard,” The bass voice reverberated in their ears.
“How soon?” Exador asked.
“From what I gathered, she plans to depart on the Nimbus to Murgandy within a day or two,” the shadow informed them.
“The Nimbus?” Ramses asked.
Exador sighed quietly. “One of their military vessels. Trevin’s flagship.” He stroked his chin in thought. “I have allies in Nysegard who will want to know about this.” He looked up towards the darkness. “Excellent work, Morthador. Thank you.”
Danyel was having horrible dreams. He dreamt of imminent evil attacking his companions. He tried to stop it, and then his fellow soldiers turned on him, apparently possessed by the evil. The next thing he knew, he was in some weird location, some sort of leather-padded seat in the back of something like an enclosed chariot, hurtling down a stone road at an ungodly speed with no sign of horses; and then he was back on the battlefield watching Talarius slay the demon. In the dreams, a giant fireball would suddenly expand, then his legs would ache as if he had jumped off the top of a mountain and landed on stone feet first.
He remembered coming to between dreams and seeing nurses bandaging him, and feeling bruised and battered all over. But now, on waking, he found himself feeling better; quite refreshed, in fact. Actually, thinking about it with his eyes closed, he felt better than he had in some time. He smiled and opened his eyes to see his patron saint, Hilda of Rivenrock, dressed in her Sister of Tiernon habit, beaming down at him.
“Fuck, I’m dead!” Danyel cried out in dismay.
Saint Hilda frowned momentarily.
Crap! He had cursed in the presence of a holy saint! Some start to his afterlife. Danyel closed his eyes and gulped. “Forgive me, Saint Hilda! I beg you to forgive my ingratitude for your generous presence in greeting me at the gateway to Tierhallon.”
His patron saint seemed to snort and then chuckle. “Okay, not the reaction I’d been expecting,” she said, “but then I really wasn’t sure what to expect.”
Danyel felt the holy saint pat his hands, just like any Sister of Tiernon might do to a patient in her care.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Saint Hilda continued, “but you’re going to have to wait a bit longer to feast in Tierhallon.” Danyel cracked his eyes open again to peer at her. She beamed back at him, her radiant smile making him feel warm and safe for some reason. “You’re very much alive, and chained to this bed after being possessed by a demon.”
Danyel blinked. Possessed by a demon? What was she talking about? “I’m sorry, Your Holiness, but...”
“You don’t remember?” She moved her head from side to side. “I am not really surprised. You were under the complete control of the demon, so you probably didn’t have much conscious thought.” Danyel just stared at her in shock. “Okay, we need to make this short. You remember the battle between Talarius and the big demon?”
Danyel nodded.
“Well, Talarius apparently defeated the demon, but not really. It somehow took possession of a good number of high priests and about a third of the Rod’s nearby archers and some others, including you. He then used those he had possessed to battle Talarius and defeat him. A few details later, and the demon hightailed it back to the Abyss with Talarius as a hostage.”
Danyel gasped in shock at this information. How could this be? He did not remember any of this, at least nothing after seeing the demon crumble to ashes on the battlefield. After that, things got blurry and he really only remembered a bunch of chaotic and weird dreams.
“Long story getting shorter still,” Saint Hilda continued. “Because you were possessed, they locked you and the others up in these tents while working to heal you.” She pulled on his arm to show him that he was, indeed, chained to the cot.
“Uhh...” Danyel was at a loss for words. “What? Uhm, I’m not dead?”
“Not at all!” The saint beamed at him. “In fact, I just healed you and purged any lingering demonic influences in you and your tent mates!” She gestured around the tent. Danyel noted that there were two other Rod members in here with him. He had seen them around, but did not know their names.
“If I may, Your Holiness?” Danyel was shaking his head, and the saint nodded for him to go on. “To what do I owe this great honor? For a great and holy saint like yourself to so intercede on my behalf in this manner is...” Danyel had no idea what to call it.
The Saint of Rivenrock smiled again and patted his shoulder. “Well, you are one of my most loyal devotees, so of course I want to help you.” Hilda paused and tilted her head a bit. “And you can help me in return.”
Danyel tried to bow his head, which was hard since he was lying down. “How can I possibly help you Your Holiness?”
“Well for one, don’t call me ‘Your Holiness’ in public!” The saint laughed good-naturedly. “I am trying to put together a solid understanding of the events that transpired here yesterday, and the events that led up to it.” Danyel nodded. “And I don’t want to alert too many people to what I am doing.”
Danyel shook his head, puzzled. “But certainly, you could just appear to the arch-diocate and vicar general and ask for a Holy Accounting?”
Saint Hilda made a small grimace. “Well, you see, that’s the thing. We — or rather, I — am concerned that we might not get a full and accurate accounting.” Danyel looked shocked, and Hilda patted his arm. “No, not like that. I fully trust our people on the ground. It’s just that when saints and archons appear, people sort of, well... misremember things, or sometimes just go numb and can’t remember anything. Further, I need to investigate outside the Rod. I need to go into Freehold and investigate what led to this incident and gather information about this demon and the plots surrounding it.”
Danyel looked at his patron saint, trying to understand. “You mean like a secret inquisition?”
The saint moved her head from shoulder to shoulder, thinking. “Yes, I suppose that’s a good way of phrasing it. A secret inquisition. I don’t want the identity of the questioner influencing the answers she receives.”
“So you aren’t going to tell people who you are?”
“Exactly!” Hilda beamed at Danyel, again making him feel warm and relaxed, even though intellectually he knew he should be freaking out.
“So how can I help you, Your Holiness?” Danyel asked, shaking his head. “I’m but a simple Rod member.”
The saint smiled. “My dear, you are no simple Rod member. You are a loyal devotee of mine. Not only were you a witness to these events, you were a participant. And...”
“And?” Danyel asked when she paused.
“I need you to get us a couple of horses from the Rod’s quartermaster along with tack, and then for you to pose as my squire — my man-at-arms if you will — while I pretend to be a resident of Freehold returning from an alvaren wedding.”
Danyel blinked in shock at this completely unexpected request.
“Very interesting, Madam Councilor,” Elrose said to Trevin D’Vils in her guest parlor as a knock came on the door. He and Maelen were continuing their discussions with her from last night.