The Heavenly Host

Exador’s flames were now nearing the high ceiling of the foyer and a form — a very large form — was appearing. It appeared to be about twenty-five feet tall and probably eight feet across the shoulders. Large pinioned wings, very unlike typical demon wings, appeared on the demon’s back. Other than that, Randolf realized quickly, it looked just like Exador.

“Sword!” Exador roared at Ruiden. “You have pissed me off more than anyone has in a long time. Not even Lenamare could annoy me as much as you have!”

Randolf noted that Lenamare, still working on ward stabilization, frowned, possibly insulted by the comment.

“Since you were forged in metal, I will assume fire will not be useful against you, nor lightning. So how about cold?” Exador suddenly inhaled and then pursed his lips and blew — in fact, he whistled — directly towards Ruiden.

Randolf blinked his eyes, realizing that he could actually see Exador’s breath, as if on a very cold day. No, he corrected himself, the breath was frost. No, now it was ice and it slammed into the sword golem as a solid blast of what appeared to be liquid ice? Or ice water? Randolf was not sure, but what was clear was that Ruiden was now completely buried, hidden in a very solid mound of ice.

There was a loud clanking noise as Crispin and a large pile of gear suddenly appeared behind Randolf. Crispin went to work quickly to distribute objects in their correct positions.

“What is this?” Exador asked. Apparently, he had heard the noise of the arrival, even over the klaxon. That was very good hearing, Randolf decided. He glanced up at Exador.

“Randolf, my employer. What does your catamite have there? It looks like demon-binding equipment,” Exador thundered.

Randolf turned to face him. “Well, my no longer trusted employee, you are astute, I will give you that. Much brighter than most of the demons I’ve bound.”

Exador looked at him as if he had just lost his mind. “Most demons that you have bound? Have you ever bound a single demon?” He chuckled. “And now you think you are going to start with me. You have clearly become unhinged.”

“Perhaps,” Randolf said. “However, I have begun to question your loyalty. You have been absent way too much recently. I am beginning to suspect you may have other allegiances than Turelane.” He was trying to buy time for Crispin to get things set up; he could not leave the pentagram he was in without breaking it.

Exador tilted his head and stared at him. “You are definitely acting oddly; you have not been possessed by the demon the sword was looking for, have you?”

“No, I am afraid not. I am just rather tired of your scary wizard routine. I think it’s time for you to move on,” Randolf said.

Exador laughed. “So what, are you firing me?”

“Got it!” Crispin shouted. Randolf shook his head; the djinn should have said that over their link.

Crispin’s shout got Exador’s attention. “Ah, Randolf, sending a boy to do a man’s work?” He shook his head. “That sounds like you.” Exador waved towards Crispin and a giant bolt of lightning flew from his hand and struck Crispin with a loud crash of thunder. As the flash cleared from their eyes, it was clear that all that was left of the boy was a smoking, extremely charred corpse. More like a pile of charcoal.

Randolf heard gasps of shock over his link with the others. His fellow councilors knew how he felt about Crispin, even if they did find the apparent age difference in their relationship to be morally questionable. Randolf stared at the corpse and then turned back and looked up at Exador.

“You probably did not want to do that,” Randolf said calmly.

Exador laughed. “What? Are you upset I broke your toy? What are you going to do about it?”

Randolf shook his head slightly. “No, I, personally, am not that upset. Thus, for the moment, I am not going to be doing anything about it. And for the record, you did not break “my toy” so much as piss it off.”

Exador stared at Randolf in puzzlement for a moment, not understanding what he meant. Randolf gestured with both hands to the four fireplaces along the two side walls of the foyer. Exador turned his attention to see large plumes of smoke and ash pouring from the four fireplaces, streaming through the large room towards Crispin’s crispy corpse.

“What is this?” Exador asked, puzzled.

Randolf chuckled; the other wizards in the room not busy casting spells also stared in surprise as the four large streams of smoke, soot and ash converged on the corpse into a single black cloud; a cloud that swirled upwards higher and higher. A cloud fed by four fireplaces containing hundreds of years of soot and ash, as well as a deep elemental affinity to fire, air and smoke.

The cloud began to crackle with small lightning bolts as Randolf resumed speaking. “And you did not simply piss him off; you will have pissed off his entire race. You know an attack against one is an attack against all, do you not?”