“Are you ready to be bound to my service?” The mighty demon lord, heir to Orcus asked.
Ragala-nargoloth gulped. “I am, My Lord.”
The head of the mace moved towards her head. “Grasp the mace and prepare to repeat after me.”
Ragala-nargoloth tentatively raised her left hand and reached out towards the head of the mace and to her new future.
Tom checked the runes controlling night and day within the mountains. He had discovered they worked pretty well as a clock. It would be dawn before long. They had managed to contact three more shamans beyond Tal Gor and Ragala-nargoloth: Beya Fei Geist of the Olafa Horde of Ithgar, Farsooth GoreTusk of the Rockgut Horde on Romdan, and Leftenant Trig Bioblast of the Oak Clan and Second Shaman of the OCSS Skull Crusher in Gormegast.
Leftenant Trig Bioblast caused the most confusion among his commanders, Tom had noted. The shaman had made several technology references that went right over the heads of the D’Orcs present. Tom was at least familiar with science fiction versions of the things Trig had mentioned. He was definitely going to want to visit Gormegast as well as Visteroth, if they made contact with it. He wanted to see a world where technology and magic worked side by side. It seemed extremely implausible, but then at this point he was not in a position to define possible and impossible.
“Zelda, you mentioned wanting to get the first party out with dawn?” Tom asked the steward.
She nodded. “I think it’s going to take us a few days to gather enough game and butcher it. Hezbarg and his team have been cleaning up the kitchens. They told me that power has reached the freezers, so we should be able to store our game.”
Tom nodded. Yesterday morning Boggy had asked him to make sure the freezers’ runes got activated. He had been surprised that the mountains had several large kitchens with cold storage. Apparently, Orcus had been known for throwing parties. In fact, the party they were planning used to be normal for major events. He had suggested that they might make these hunting expeditions routine. To his surprise, Vargg had later mentioned that in the old days, the D’Orcs used to stage hunting expeditions with the various tribes, clans and hordes that had paid homage to Orcus.
Tom found himself a bit disturbed to find that several of his suggestions had been routine operations under Orcus. It was more than just a bit disconcerting. He knew for an undeniable fact that he was not Orcus reincarnated. For one thing, he knew firsthand what that dagger did. If everyone said it had killed Orcus, then it had utterly killed Orcus and destroyed his soul. While not an expert on reincarnation, it seemed logical to believe that one needed some sort of soul to actually reincarnate into a new body.
Tom shuddered, thinking about Orcus’s fate. Of course, to be fair, that was what true death was. Therefore, the ritual the Rod had been preparing for all of them would have done the same. That seemed an unbelievably evil thing to do to someone. Of course, back in Jersey, he had not really believed in any sort of afterlife, so why did a true death seem so much more horrible now?
The answer, Tom reflected, was that now he knew that there was, at least for believers, the chance for life after death. Antefalken had stated unequivocally, and the others had all agreed that if Talarius died in the Planes of Orcs/Planes of Men, that he would go to Tierhallon to be with his god. Others had said similar things. That was the thing: heaven and hell were real. Maybe not what his grandparents believed, but there was something. There was also the possibility of nothing. That was what made the difference. Gods were real, and of course; so were demons.
“As I recall, Astlan time in jötunngard and Doom Time were pretty close,” Arg-nargoloth said. “Etterdam and the lands of the Nart were about a period or so behind. I am not sure of the others.”
Roth Tar Gorefest nodded. “While obviously I am anxious to return to the hunting grounds of Romdan, I do think we should go in order of shaman. Thus, we first send a band to Astlan, followed by one to Etterdam with its dawn. We move on to the others tomorrow.”
Vargg nodded. “We will need the time to process the kills in the kitchens. Everyone is out of practice.”
“Some of us have never gotten to practice,” Zelda noted somewhat bitterly.
“The price of being fourth generation.” Darg-Krallnom laughed, slapping her on the back.
The thought of Zelda being fourth generation D’Orc, born in the Abyss as many of the younger D’Orcs were, made Tom suddenly realize that something was fishy. Demons were immortal, so how did they age? He had just assumed that Rupert had aged because he was half-human, yet clearly he was every bit as powerful, every bit as much a real demon as any first, second or third-order demon. Except, Tom suddenly realized, Rupert stopped aging when he started to show signs of being a demon. He had shape-changed into his younger self and stayed that way. Everyone thought he was younger than he actually was.
Tom shook his head; this did not make a lot of sense. He needed to sort this out, probably with Antefalken or someone else who understood demon physiology. Clearly not Tizzy, though. However, this was not the time; they had a hunting trip to plan.
Bess took a sip of Denubian Choco-CoffeeTM and sighed. “Complications, complications.”
Astet chuckled. “Who was it that liked to warn everyone about how lies and deceptions end up entangling one more than chains and ropes?” Astet was drinking iced tea, which she had to work to keep cool in her hand as they were sitting in a rooftop “garden” in the outpost. The plants that would grow in the Abyss were extremely odd plants.
As a goddess associated with Air, she had no problem summoning a nice breeze, but all the air in this quite literally god-forsaken hellhole was insufferably hot. One reason she did not come down here that much. Upon reflection, she supposed the very existence of the outpost meant the place was not completely god-forsaken, but it was still a hellhole.
Bess chuckled. “Yes, it was me.” She shook her head. “Those stupid Oorstemothians! Who would expect them to record the whole thing? And capture us on the carpet?”
“Times, they are a changing.” Astet shook her head. “When we were in Astlan officially, such wizardry did not exist yet.”
“I know; it’s one of the things so many of us prefer about the magic-based worlds over the tech worlds. If there is no visual or audio recording of an event, it’s a lot easier to tell one group one thing, and another group something else,” Bess said with a smile. She had always been big on being up front wherever possible with people. Which is what made her current situation so ironic.
“Takes some of the fun out of godhood, doesn’t it? You lose plausible deniability for mysterious actions and such,” Astet remarked before taking another sip of her super-chilled iced tea.
“It does sort of put a damper on ‘working in mysterious ways,’ ” Bess agreed.
“So,” Astet said, “now you have to pretend to be a mortal wizard in Freehold?”
“It’s looking that way.” Bess shook her head. “Exador wants us all to show up and demonstrate our humanity.”
“And how do you do that?” Astet asked.
Bess shrugged. “I have no idea what Exador plans. Perhaps have them put the wards back up?”
“But didn’t that cause you all flee the city?”
Bess chuckled. “It caused them to flee the city, and it did rattle my sinuses, making me feel quite twitchy, along with a nasty headache. However, I was able to locate the source very quickly and surmised what was happening. Being the consummate actress, I simply played along with my cover story.”