“Weird choice. Did you notice how hairy she was?” Daphne asked.
“I know, eeesh! Someone get the poor girl a razor!” Chloe replied.
Satyricus shrugged. “Personally, I find all the fur intriguing.”
“Since you aren’t being forthcoming, I’ll get to my point. When was this?” Taergon asked.
“About the same time the Vargosite Empire formed,” Duranor told him.
“How exactly do you know that? You could not have been alive then; that was a thousand years ago,” Satyricus asked, puzzled. “Even I had not been born yet, and I’m pretty sure I am older than you.”
Duranor shrugged. “My people have long memories and even longer tales.” He stroked his long beard.
Taergon laughed and replied, “You mean face tails!”
Duranor smiled at the joke and nodded. “Precisely. However, there is a bit more to it. Many of my people are miners, as you know, and metalworkers and artisans. Many of us, myself included, worship Hephaestus, god of the forge, craftsmen and our people.”
“I’m familiar with your god.” Taergon shrugged. “I don’t see the connection.”
“Hephaestus is, or was, a member of the Triad of Memphis. In that manifestation he was known as pêTah and one of the Nyjyr Ennead.”
“So Hephaestus, who is still actively worshipped by your people, was actually also one of the Nyjyr Ennead? I had thought them all driven from Astlan, Etterdam, Nysegard and Romdan?” Elraith asked the dwarf.
Duranor chuckled. “The Etonians and their clerics aren’t the brightest, and they’ve never really paid my people much heed or respect. In short, they never bothered to investigate. For which my people are, I suppose, grateful. But I can assure you, the Etonian clergy can be even more grateful, as it would have been a bloody battle and their casualties far greater than those of the Natoorians and the Najaarans.”
Ariel remained silent but his left eyebrow rose slightly as if in doubt. Elraith supposed the eyebrow twitch was required whenever an alvaren prince heard one of the Modgriensofarthgonosefren boast of their people’s prowess in battle, particularly given that such legendary prowess was well deserved and something the alvar did not like to acknowledge. He hoped it would not be tested.
“So then, the Nyjyr Ennead still have a foothold in Astlan?” Satyricus asked.
“One must think; although none of our lore discusses them much.” Duranor shrugged.
“Fine enough,” Taergon said, “but I’m still trying to piece this together. I gather the Nyjyr Ennead are, or were, the gods of the people of Natoor and Najaar?”
“And a few other adjacent regions.” Trevin nodded. “As well as having strong bases in what we would call the localverse: Astlan, Etterdam, Nysegard, Avalon, Targella and Romdan. I believe they may have been on many other planes as well, but I can really only speak the worlds we here intersect with.” Trevin gestured to their surroundings, meaning the Grove and the planes to which it was permanently attached.
“They were on Earth at one point as well, before the bridge was destroyed,” Ariel said.
“Then they were widespread,” Elraith observed.
“Earth?” Taergon asked.
“A very distant set of planes that we used to be able to get to indirectly through Avalon. However, that connection was lost during Ragnarök,” Trevin said.
“So this relates to the Nyjyr Ennead and the god-mana wielding demon how?” Taergon asked.
“In no way that I’m aware of.” Ariel shrugged. “You just wanted context on the Nyjyr Ennead. They were a large, widespread religion that basically made some bonehead moves and began dying out as a religion, and the Etonians moved in and started destroying their temples, killing their priests and converting their worshipers.”
Trevin shrugged and nodded. “That’s basically it. Their priests came to us, asking for our help. The elders at the time, Ariel and myself included, thought it was simply a normal turf war.”
Ariel made a rather sour expression. “We did not anticipate the level of brutality and the thoroughness at the time. The Etonians had been making inroads for quite some time and setting up a long-term game plan that essentially drove Nyjyr Ennead from the localverse completely. I thought they had gone extinct.”
Taergon shuddered at such a thought. “What happens to gods with no worshipers?”
“I have no idea.” Trevin shrugged. “However, the balling we just watched seems to imply that at least a few of them are still around and they are aligning with demons, one of which is able to steal mana from Tiernon himself.”
“Which brings us, I suppose, to your guests?” Elraith asked Trevin.
“Yes, the two seers have independently seen an epic conflict coming between the gods, demons and everyone else caught in the middle.”
“If the Nyjyr Ennead can turn Tiernon’s own magic against him, then that would completely change the landscape,” Duranor noted.
“Given that there was a demon army hidden inside Freehold, undetected, where else could they have a second demon army stationed?” Ariel asked. He looked slightly perturbed for an alfar, Elraith thought.
Chapter 92
Bess rematerialized in an alley three blocks over from Exador’s high-rise. She had no desire to let anyone see her shape-change and suspect what she was up to; better to fake a teleportation and change form during translocation. She looked down at her scaly, digitigrade, clawed feet and long serpent’s tail. Her finger claws were about four inches long. She had a svelte yet full-figured female form with reflective green and dark red scales, long black hair on top of a relatively normal-looking human face, albeit finely scaled as well, all topped by two pointy, slightly curved, dark green horns.
She knew the form well; it was her succubus disguise. Of all her non-cat forms, this was probably her favorite. It was ideal when she wanted to slum it as a type III demon. Hmm, that reminded her: she needed to concentrate on making sure her aura was appropriate to her assumed station. After a few self-inspections of her aura, she was satisfied and headed to the bar.
She had arranged to meet her favorite avatar there. Admittedly, they were meeting where he was working undercover. Through the swinging wooden doors she strode, noting that a few demons did eye her lasciviously, which was nice. However, none paid her to too much attention. At least none beyond what her current disguise warranted.
Where was he? Ah, there he was. A young, slim demon with a human torso of ebony and the thighs, legs and tail of a horse. His head was human except for some very large incisors and curly horns twisting from the sides of his temples. His black, tightly curled hair was neatly trimmed on his head. He was lugging a basket filled with mugs to the back of the bar. Bess sauntered over and sat down at the bar as he set his load down.
“What does a demoness have to do to get a drink around here?” Bess asked playfully.
Tut looked up in surprise, having not recognized his mistress in this form. He quickly started to bow and Bess slapped her claw down on his arm in a warning not to do so in public. She shook her head.
“Mistress, I’m sorry; I didn’t recognize you,” Tut said softly and nervously.
“Obviously not.” Bess grinned and looked down to the demon’s groin, which was reacting to her succubus disguise. Tut quickly moved to cover himself.
“Mistress, I’m so sorry. I meant no disrespect,” Tut murmured, embarrassed.
“Tut, tut, my lad.” Bess tilted her head, she loved saying that. “It’s all part of the disguise.” Maybe she should incorporate that feature into some of her other forms. It could be useful. She looked around the room to ensure they were not being overheard. Thinking better of it, she quickly ringed them in a veil of silence. If no one was staring directly at them, they probably would not notice the veil.