The high chaplain nodded and began trying to drag the beggar meister from the tent. The man did not want to go and was most upset.
“Trust us, Master Delapodos, we shall get to the bottom of this and justice shall be done!” Barabus said as he closed the tent flap behind the high chaplain and the beggar meister.
They waited in silence for the two get out of hearing range. Given the loud complaints of the beggar meister, this was not hard to judge. Once they left, Barabus asked, “So do you have a high priestess who can heal that fast?”
Iskerus snorted. “Not likely. I could not heal someone with that man’s issues that fast. Disease is far more pernicious and harder to root out than simple flesh wounds.”
“So who is this woman?” Barabus asked.
Iskerus shrugged. “I have no idea who, or even what profession could heal that fast.”
“And would do so in the name of Tiernon,” Barabus added.
Iskerus sighed. “Only an avatar could heal that fast.”
“So you think there is an avatar of Tiernon in Freehold?” Barabus asked.
“Why would an avatar of Tiernon be in there?” Iskerus pointed to the warded city. “We are out here! Any avatar would come to speak with us first. Plus, no demons can get into that city; how would an avatar get in?”
“Then what?” Barabus asked.
“I have no idea. I may have just reached my limit,” Iskerus stated sadly before finishing his tea.
Elraith Castegones took his seat in the central kiva. His bones ached; he was getting way too old for these duties. He had been awakened from meditation by Trevin but a few days ago and was still groggy and perhaps a bit cranky. One did not come out of three years of deep meditation and harmony easily, not at his age. The ramps down into the kiva groaned as Taergon Thunderhoof made his way down the wooden incline. The representative of the centaurs was large, and like most centaurs, claustrophobic and hated the kiva.
Taergon took up his position near the eastern edge and slowly knelt down on all fours. Uncomfortable, yes, but better than being bent over. As Elraith watched his friend take his seat, he smelled Satyricus walking down the ramp. Not that it was a bad smell, far from it, but it was a very strong and nearly intoxicating musk. The high priest of the god Pan nodded to Taergon and Elraith.
Daphne and Chloe, as usual, came bounding down the ramp with great energy. Elraith shook his head slightly at their energy; those two were older than he, yet the nymph and dryad elders had their eternally youthful energy to propel them.
Elraith felt an odd disturbance to his right and turned his head slightly to see that Ariel ap Auberon had taken his place. Even after all these years of knowing them, the highest of the alvaren could arrive and depart with barely his notice. Elraith nodded to the alvaren prince, it had been at least four years since they had seen each other; barely a moment in an elf’s life, yet still some time for Elraith. By the creaking of the ramp and the slight, barely noticeable motion of Ariel’s eyelid, Elraith surmised that Duranor had arrived. Elraith turned his head to nod at the Grove’s Geomancer. Duranor nodded back, but naturally ignored Ariel’s presence.
After all his years, Elraith still marveled at the ability of the Los Alfar and the Modgriensofarthgonosefren to hold grudges. Grudge after grudge, dimension after dimension, and century after century. It was actually rather ridiculous and beneath both races if you asked Elraith, which none of them ever did.
This grudge is what he and Trevin sought to keep under control. The Grove depended on harmonious relations between the various races. A war between the alvar and any of the jötnar races would be tense at best; if Hephaestus himself was involved, then the Modgriensofarthgonosefren could easily become directly involved.
As Duranor took his seat, Elraith felt the air of the dark and rather damp kiva lighten. A feeling of tranquility and safety filled the room as the most gorgeous woman Elraith had ever met entered the kiva. He had no idea how old she was, but her appearance — and as far as his powers could discern, her reality — was that of an extremely well-endowed twenty-something human. A woman who could put nymphs to shame, and if one did not believe that, one only needed to see the glances that Daphne and Chloe gave the enchantress as she entered.
Ariel rose and took her hand to bestow a kiss on it, gallant as ever. Duranor simply shrugged at the alfar’s actions. Satyricus saluted her in a typical satyr manner and gave her a very lascivious leer. Taergon nearly matched the satyr’s leer as he shifted uncomfortably, clearly adjusting his hindquarters.
Trevin smiled as Ariel released her hand, turning her magnificent gaze to Elraith. Trevin somehow bowed and curtsied to him at the same time. “My Lord Castigones, thank you for breaking your meditation; we are truly honored by your presence.
Elraith chuckled. “My dear, you get more charming by the decade.”
“As do you, My Lord!” She smiled seductively at him.
“Nice try, my dear, but I fear at my age there is little wood left in the tree.” Elraith smiled at her, enjoying the sparkle in her eye. Perhaps no wood, but certainly a small spark remained within his heart. “Sit, and let us speak of these issues that have summoned us. It’s been years since all of us have gathered in person.”
Trevin took her seat, a small wooden armchair much like Ariel’s and Duranor’s. “Bad tidings. I have brought with me a seer and sorcerer who both have had dire visions that seem to be coming to pass. Freehold was overrun by a horde of demons, at least three archdemons were in residence, undetected, and now Oorstemoth and the Rod surround the city.”
Ariel frowned. “Clearly a problem for Freehold, but what matters this to us?”
Trevin smiled. “That, My Lord Ariel, is but the appetizer. I have here” — in Trevin’s hand a crystal ball seemed to simply appear — “a copy of a balling made by Oorstemoth of events that transpired when the Council evicted the demon horde from the city. I think you need to watch it, and then we shall dive deeper into what we must discuss. Our past inactions may be coming back to haunt us.”
“Great. I love it when that happens,” Duranor groused.
“No, you love scolding us when we don’t heed your call to action.” Satyricus chuckled.
Tom flew over the mountain range near his cave. He needed to get out and stretch his wings. He also needed to get away from the incessant discussions in the cave. By this point, all the arguments were going in circles and none of them were giving him any better idea of what to do.
He should have left Talarius alive on the battlefield. He really did not have the resources or patience to deal with a hostage. The guy was also very bullheaded; it seemed unlikely that he would change his mind in regards to demons. Yes, it was a great finish to a life-and-death battle. Way too close to death, actually; he really should avoid such battles in the future. Even so, the aftermath? They never talked about that in the fantasy books.
No one ever talked about what happens after you ride into the sunset and then the sun sets. Or, as in this case, Fierd sets. Did the happy couple find a cozy inn and settle down to a nice stew and some bread? Or did they end up slogging through a marshy swampland or, worse maybe, a desert.
That was basically how he felt. He had had the triumphant victory and now he felt like there should be more. But more what? He had now dug himself into a situation where he had avatars of Tiernon hunting him down, and probably a few archdemons hunting him down as well. Well, certainly there was Lilith; she was more than an archdemon, and she was not so much hunting him as inviting him over.
He had pretty much ruled out her invitation. He was fairly sure he would simply end up being her hostage. He had to assume he could not really trust any of the old-guard demons here. They had been around too long and were too used to playing games with others. He needed to keep his independence; he actually needed to get a team together, some sort of Scooby gang or similar.