“Uhm...” Lenamare said, sweat visible on his brow. “Uh...” Jenn nearly choked; she had never seen Lenamare so speechless.
Trevin snapped, “Stop teasing Lenamare, Davron.” She shook her head. “Are we in any way agreed on what we might have seen? Obviously, we have no wizard’s sight view of the event — it is just a visual recording — but given the behavior of the priests, it appears that Lenamare’s demon linked up with... what, five high priests and hijacked their divine links? The links between themselves and their flocks? And then at the end, the healing mana and the artifact... Was it pulling mana from the heavens? From Tiernon’s own infrastructure? Is that what we saw?”
The room suddenly burst into pandemonium as people tried to voice their opinions on what they saw. “Excuse me. Excuse me!” Alexandros Mien spoke up, and everyone else quieted down. “I’m sorry, but before we debate that, could I have you back up to the point shortly after Lenamare’s demon hit the ground with its limbs chopped off?”
Damien nodded.
“Thank you, dear boy,” the elderly wizard said. Damien backed up to the point when the type IV hit the ground. “Now, stop — good. I want you to zoom out and scroll up and to the right. See there up in the air, above the fight, over the camp.” There were whispers; no one seemed to know what the old wizard wanted to see.
“Zoom in if you can.” Damien zoomed in as the wizard nodded in confirmation of what he had seen. The small object in the sky was a flying carpet with people on it — three people.
“Oh, shit,” Gandros stated slowly. The rest of the room gasped as well. On the flying carpet, apparently having a picnic, were Councilor Exador, an extremely dark-skinned woman in a revealing dress, and a man wearing leather straps with two straight-edged, single-sided blades over his shoulders.
There were gasps in the room.
Maelen said aloud, “Ramses the Damned.”
“Bastet, Defender of Home,” Trevin D’Vils stated equally loudly.
Maelen suddenly made a noise like he’d just swallowed wrong. Jenn glanced over at him; he was staring straight ahead and was looking extremely pale for some reason. She hoped he was okay.
“Exador?” Randolf exclaimed. Chatter broke out again.
“Silence, one at a time!” Lord Gandros exclaimed, and everyone quieted down. “Very well, first things first. Thanks to Maelen here” — he pointed to Maelen, who seemed to be pulling himself back together quickly — “we were suspicious that Ramses the Damned might be wandering in the Palace. Now we have that confirmed.” There was a lot of talk among various associates with their Council members confirming this. Randolf, of course, had heard none of this and was looking particularly flustered.
“Enough, let us continue,” Gandros stated. “It is becoming clear who our archdemons are, or were.” Randolf sputtered, but Gandros waved him down.
“Trevin, what was the name you mentioned?” Gandros asked.
“Bastet, Defender of Home,” Trevin D’Vils stated. “She is, or rather was, a goddess worshipped on the continent of Natoor, on the far side of Eton, more than a thousand years ago. She is from the forgotten Nyjyr Ennead pantheon. She was a defender of house and home, a protector of her people. She was considered a good goddess, not evil. She is definitely not an archdemon. The Etonians displaced them; their troops and knights drove the religion underground. As far as I know, no one has worshipped them in close to a thousand years.”
“So how do you know this?” Davron asked.
“I travel. Archaeology is a hobby of mine, and I’m always fascinated by powerful female goddesses.” Trevin shrugged. “I’ve seen her likeness on many old scrolls and stone carvings. She often appears like this, and sometimes with the head of a cat. A black cat.”
“Cat? Why a cat?” Randolf asked.
“The original Natoorians believed that cats brought good luck; they defended the home from mice and rodents, who would eat grain and damaged goods. And, given the cat’s affinity for magic, I can’t say I disagree with their judgment.”
Randolf shook his head.
“Now I’m getting confused,” Tureledor said. “We have a flying carpet floating above this battle with a reborn Anilord Time Warrior, or maybe he’s an archdemon; an ancient forgotten deity who was a protector of life but now appears up to no good; and one of our own Council members who seems to have gone rogue, or who at least has conveniently disappeared” — here he glared at Randolf — “when we banished all the demons from the city.
“Is anyone else having any trouble figuring this out?” Tureledor asked. The room erupted in a flurry of discussion again.
“Folks!” Maelen rose to his feet. “Esteemed wizards, please let me speak.” He spoke with an air of authority and at a volume and timbre to quickly quiet the room. “I apologize for interrupting — ”
“Who are you again?” Randolf asked.
“I am Maelen Serenanus, Doctor of Animastery and Animagic and Senior Fellow of the Society of Learned Fellows.”
A new round of discussion suddenly erupted. Sier Barvon spoke up the loudest. “Are you telling us that the Society is still around?” That quieted the room.
Maelen bowed slightly. “Yes, that is what my presence is informing you. However, that is not why I am speaking; the continued existence of the Society is not relevant to the point I wish to make.”
“Then what might be?” Alexandros Mein asked knowingly. He appeared to know what Maelen was going to say.
“On our very doorstep, a being, a demon that had been hiding here in the palace, has somehow managed to interrupt a link between several high priests of Tiernon and their god.”
“Yes, yes, I brought that up early on,” Trevin sputtered.
“Wisely so, My Lady.” Maelen nodded. “But what you did not ask is this: how long before Tiernon sends his emissaries down to enquire as to who has been tampering with his supply line?”
There was shocked silence for a moment. “And by emissaries,” Sier Barvon stated, “you do not mean the Rod or any priests. You mean...”
“His avatars.” Maelen nodded.
Gandros moaned and put his head in his hands. The room once more broke into chaos.
“I seriously need a drink.” Lenamare said as he entered his office followed by Jehenna, Elrose and Hortwell. He headed directly to the glass cart with the brandy decanter on it and began pouring brandy for everyone. No one said anything as he passed the glasses around.
Lenamare nodded as Elrose took a glass; normally the sorcerer did not imbibe, as he felt that alcohol dulled his senses. He was making an exception tonight.
Jehenna took a sip and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and observing, “So, as we suspected, our fourth-order was in Astlan all along, which was why we couldn’t summon him.”
“And in this palace,” Hortwell added. “Under our noses.”
Jehenna grimaced. “Embarrassing.”
“Well, he’s in the Abyss now,” Elrose observed.
Jehenna allowed a grim smile to cross her lips as she glanced at Lenamare. “Unfortunately, the wards around the city will prevent us from summoning it any time soon.” She gave a dark chuckle.
“Yes, how unfortunate that is.” Elrose shook his head, chuckling as well; Jehenna’s sense of humor was a bit dark.
Lenamare glanced at Jehenna half irritated, obviously not sensing her irony. “I may have a high opinion of myself, but I’m not stupid. We are not going to be summoning that thing any time soon.”
“I do not understand how it could have fooled us so well.” Hortwell shook his head.
“Clearly, it wanted into Astlan and we were a convenient portal,” Elrose stated.
Lenamare had closed his eyes, keeping them shut he took another sip of brandy, remaining silent.