The Heavenly Host

“That is what you believe, isn’t it?” Tom asked the knight.

The knight turned and sighed. “Yes, it is. Get on with it then.”

“You really are as nutty as a wizard,” Tom told him. “We are not going to torture you.”

“We aren’t?” Tizzy whined loudly. “But Tooohhhmmm!” The shrill demon started pouting.

Tom shook his head with a big grin on his face, but seeing the knight blanch under his helmet, he stopped grinning. To be fair, he was not completely sure Tizzy was joking. “No, I’m sorry Tizzy; we’ve just brought Talarius here so he could find out what the Abyss is really like. What demons are really like.”

“Like a field trip!” Rupert exclaimed.

“Exactly.” Tom gave the boy a pat on the shoulder.

“Okay, I’ve seen it.” The knight gestured around. “It’s a lovely place. Can I go now?”

“Hah, hah,” Antefalken said. “You aren’t getting off that easy. It is a big plane with lots of places to go and you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until you see the salt mines!”

“So, back to my original question. How long, demon?” The knight was getting rather imperious again.

“As long as it takes; maybe two or three centuries, maybe a thousand years or more,” Tom snapped.

The knight dropped his hands at that. “Well, the joke is on you then. I’m a human; I won’t live that long.”

Tizzy laughed hilariously, and the knight turned to glare at him. “Joke’s on you, lad. Humans don’t age or die here, not if they are kept at a reasonable temperature and in a less toxic region where their flesh won’t dissolve, or unless they get evaporated by a really big demon or similar, but that’s a risk we all take. That’s how we can torture them for so long. They regenerate, just like demons!”

The knight blanched within his helmet.

“Actually, Sir Talarius,” Antefalken said to the knight, “Given that you are here — and you have to obey the same rules as us — to all intents and purposes, you are a demon now.”

The knight stared at the bard. And stared. And then stared some more. He finally shook his head. “Your lies are pathetic.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Tom said. “Most humans would expire and decay in this environment, which is how they would die here, but your armor keeps you alive and fairly invulnerable. I am thinking Antefalken is correct.”

“Well then, I’ll just take my armor off,” the knight stated.

“You can try, but you won’t,” Antefalken told him.

“You don’t think I can stand the pain?” the knight sneered at him.

“No, I think you could; but if you do that then you abandon hope.”

“What need have I of hope? I am cursed in this wretched place.”

“I don’t know, but what does your god tell you? If you die here, your soul ends here, and you will never join those you love in the afterlife with Tiernon. On the other hand, if you keep your armor on, stay alive, you will always have the hope of returning to Astlan to die there and ascend to the heaven you have been promised. Correct?” Antefalken asked the knight.

The knight stared at the small demon. He was silent for a long time. “You know, I think you are the most devious of all these demons.” He gestured to the others.

“Why, thank you!” The bard took a bow.

Chapter 82

Damien came to their doors and gathered Jenn, Gastropé and Maelen. “I have to show the council something that I think you are going to want to see.” The wizard was looking visibly shaken.

“What’s up?” Gastropé asked.

“You’ll see. What I’m showing everyone will speak for itself; I’ll answer what questions I can afterwards.”

Damien led the three to a mid-sized auditorium, where the rest of the council was arriving. They took seats and Damien pointed out various council members as they arrived. “I believe you have met Lord Gandros?” They nodded. “Beside him is Alexandros Mien.” Gastropé sucked in his breath, impressed by the legend. “The gentlemen near them are various associates of theirs.”

Damien pointed a little ways over. “Obviously, you know Lenamare, Jehenna and Zilquar and their associates,” he said as he gestured at Hortwell, Elrose and Zilquar’s people. There was no sign of Master Trisfelt.

“That is Sier Bavron of Yorkton and his closest advisors. Next is Tureledor, Archimage of Tureledor.”

Jenn looked askance at Damien. “His given name is the same as his title name?”

Damien grinned. “Hereditary tradition. I don’t know how fathers and sons refer to each other.” He pointed down further and went on, “Davron of Markforton with two of his people, and now entering the room is Randolf of Turelane, with whom you are probably both familiar.” Gastropé nodded. Jenn shrugged; she had heard of him. Exador theoretically worked for him.

“And behind him and his two aides is Trevin D’Vils, Enchantress of the Grove, and her maidens.” Jenn frowned; the woman was way too old to be wearing that sort of outfit.

Randolf spoke to Lord Gandros, but did so in such a loud voice that everyone could hear. “I fear, my Chancellor Arcane, Councilor Exador is indisposed at the moment and won’t be able to attend.” There were a number of murmurs at this.