Fine, this girl, what did she have on her? It was doubtful any of his demons could have captured Jehenna, must have been some other girl, Exador thought.
Not much, uhm, let me think... just normal spell components that a journeyman wizard might have, no spell books, but oh, yeah, a small red diary that was magically locked. Strange sort of.
Magically locked book? Exador went deathly still. His anger was forgotten. His mind totally fixed on what Treledor was saying. Did you try and open it? Determine anything about it?
Well, yes, but it was a really strange spell, none of us could figure it out. Certainly something more powerful than any journeyman should be able to cast. That’s why we think she was Jehenna.
Praise be! Praise be! Exador thought silently to himself, he was almost jumping up and down. The book! The damn book was in his hands! It had to be! Here it had fallen directly into his hands. Surely, fate favored him! He was jumping up and down, plans running through his mind. His! All his!
Don’t touch that book! I will be right back for it. I think I know what to do with it. Exador admonished. He had to be careful, he couldn’t make it sound too important until he had it in his own physical hands. He couldn’t wait. He had to remain calm he told himself.
Well... you know... that’s the funny thing, Treledor commented. Exador went cold, very cold. Treledor continued on, oblivious, the book seems to have disappeared in all the confusion. Maybe the demon got it...
Many miles away, for the second time in as many days, there was a large explosion in the field where Lenamare’s school had been. For the second time in the same evening, tents became raging bonfires. This time it started with the tent of the wizard Treledor. It had suddenly burst into a giant incandescent ball of fire. The fire had been so intense, in fact, that it melted the soldiers in the adjacent tents. A bit further away, Major Zachs was glad he hadn’t been the bearer of bad news. He was not, however, looking forward to Exador’s return.
Chapter 45
The psuedo-sunlight of the Courts’ version of morning was shining through the windows of the tavern in which Antefalken sat. He was seated in the corner of one of his favorite taverns on the outskirts of the Courts sipping a fresh hot cup of Denubian Choco-CoffeeTM. It was a nice morning, as such things went in a land with no sun. The Courts of course, for the comfort and amusement of most of the inhabitants, had periods of light and darkness, but these were completely artificial, imposed by its rulers. It had now been light for several hours and Antefalken had taken his leave of his evening host an hour or so ago.
While the night had been not as satisfactory in terms of information as he’d hoped, it had not been wholly wasted. Lilith was always enjoyable. It wasn’t often that he got to be with ‘an older woman,’ but then, as far as he knew, there weren’t any women older than her. Not that he’d be so crass as to say so to her face, mind. Not that her face looked it even, on the contrary, she could look, and did look, like any woman of any age, of any species. Of course while this could be amusing for fantasies, it did become a bit unnerving when she changed appearance during the act itself. Howling like a wolf-bitch in heat had a completely different meaning for Lilith. Nonetheless, they both enjoyed getting together every decade or so for a quick roll in the hay. Although then again, that new bed of spikes of hers wasn’t exactly hay, Antefalken reflected, but it was the thought that counted.
Unfortunately, she’d had little information of use to him. Mainly just the standard intrigues of any court, demonic or otherwise. It also seemed Faust was convinced that some of the Arch Demons had run across some item guaranteed to upset the hierarchy of the Abyss, permanently. He was convinced that they had some plan to enslave the Demon Princes and set themselves up as rulers, but then Faust was always paranoid. Probably because he’d come to power in much the same manner, reflected Antefalken. Other than that and a few other interesting but useless tidbits, he’d come up dry. Not in bed, that was, but in terms of information, he quickly corrected himself in his thoughts.
“Anty! Dear chap!” a voice called. He looked over to where the voice had hailed him. He noted a familiar looking demon, wincing and holding its head, obviously regretting the loud nature of its own outburst. Near the bar, just getting a cup of choco-coffee was Bogsworth. He hadn’t seen Boggy in at least a quarter of a century. When Boggy looked up again, after recovering, Antefalken waved him over.
While Boggy certainly didn’t run in the circles where the information Antefalken needed was likely to be found, talking to the loquacious demon was always amusing, and sometimes informative. Plus, Boggy was a good friend, as demons go.
Boggy made his way over to Antefalken’s table, carefully guarding his choco-coffee against spillage. By his movements, Antefalken noted a severe hangover on Bogsworth’s part. For a demon, that indicated a truly prodigious amount of alcohol. The equivalent of a couple gallons of pure grain spirits at the least. Boggy sat down clumsily, across from Antefalken.
“So Boggy, what’s the cause for celebration and inebriation?” Antefalken started with.
“That most joyous of all occasions in a demon’s life! Oh...” Boggy winced and picked up his choco-coffee for a sip.
“You offed your Accursed Master?” Antefalken asked, pleasantly pleased for Boggy.
“Most certainly. And most naturally, thereafter, I cel-ebriated.” Boggy sipped some more choco-coffee, his eyes still squinting in the morning’s light. “Perhaps a bit too much.”
“Aaah, but how often do you get the chance? Now you’re a free man again.”
“Aye, for a few decades at least. I’m pretty sure I took care of all loose ends.” Boggy said, the choco-coffee starting to bring him back to life. There was nothing like Denubian Choco-CoffeeTM to bring a demon back into action. Only Denubians and demons could drink the stuff, it was just a bit too strong and bitter for mortals. Also the caffeine rush tended to cause immediate cardiac arrest in many mortal types.
“Well, I hope you didn’t celebrate alone. I wished I’d known; I’d have joined you for a drink.” Antefalken toasted Boggy with his choco-coffee.
“No, no, had several friends around,” Boggy looked around, “not sure where they went...” Boggy signaled the bartender to bring over another cup of choco-coffee. “Actually, managed to get in a couple knock-down, drag-out brawls along the way too. I think... I don’t recall too well.” Boggy tenderly fingered his ear. He seemed to recall getting it ripped off at one point. “Course, it’d been real nice to have Tom around then. Nothing like a four in a bar brawl. But him being a newbie and all, he got a little squeamish when I regaled him of the glorious event.”
Antefalken’s ears pricked up. He went from pleasant reminiscence to intense curiosity at Boggy’s words. “A newbie you said? and fourth order?” This was just what he was looking for.
“Yep. Kid’s got guts. Tougher than nails too. Someday he’s gonna be mighty kickass if he ever figures out what he can do. Already he’s probably a match for any of the weaker fours. Just gotta get over this silly squeamishness of his.”
“Who’s his A.M.?” Antefalken prodded, this could be it.
“Ahhh jeessse, I don’t know, it’s hard enough to think after the last couple nights.” Boggy stopped to try and remember, “Lenny something. I don’t know, an Accursed Master is an Accursed Master.”
“Lenamare...” Antefalken said softly.