The Heavenly Host

Heron opened one eye and just stared at the protectator. Eventually he said, “As you say, Protectator, as you say; I am heartened that you are able to recognize this.” He opened his other eye and sat up. “Now, Protectator Wylan, I need to write a few things up from our meeting. Since we missed dinner, please notify Cook that I am ready for my supper, and have his people bring it up. Also, ensure he serves you food as well. I know he’s a stickler for people eating on time, but you were working with me.”

“Thank you, Arms Master.” Wylan smiled, bowed his head and quickly departed.

“Youth,” Heron muttered, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes again. He was not sure whether he meant the phrase enviously or as a curse. Perhaps both. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to rub out the pain centered between his eyes. The last two days had nearly been too much.

The demon wave and cleanup, yes; that had been quite remarkable and unprecedented, but that was battle. He understood that; it was everything that had come after. Not the least of which was the contents of the crystal balling they had done. Followed by endless discussions with the Council, the Rod and finally, but certainly not least by any possible or conceivable means, the endlessly tedious and sublimely ridiculous sessions with his superiors in Keeper City.

Heron wanted to pound his head on his desk in order to knock the memories of those insane, ridiculous, alarmist and never-ending discussions out of his head. Chancellor Alighieri, not unexpectedly, Heron had to admit, had been one of the primary troublemakers. Alighieri along with Chancellors Ain and Sagramn had led the arguments for taking the prosecution of the law not only to, but also through the very Gates of the Abyss!

The insanity of this proposal was nearly impossible for Heron to grasp. The Abyss was the fulcrum of Chaos! How could one possibly seek to impose Law upon pure, raw, unadulterated Chaos? The Chancellors literally wanted to pursue the prosecution of justice into the Abyss! He could, at least intellectually, understand Alighieri’s desire; the man had spent how many tax dollars and how many years on that boondoggle of his? This situation was nearly perfect for that overpriced project; this was what it had been built for. Heron had not believed, however, that anyone had ever seriously thought they would have need or cause to use it. The very thought of pursuing demons into the Abyss and forcibly extraditing them to face justice seemed simply ludicrous!

If only, Heron thought, he had retired before this engagement. He was old enough. He could have gracefully bowed out a year ago, or any time up until this moment. He had accepted this command, and he could not back out now, not even if the Chancellors of Law determined he needed to pursue his warrant through the Gates of the Abyss and to the very Courts of Chaos themselves. Well, then... but... seriously? Serving legal warrants to the Courts of Chaos? Did these fools even listen to themselves talk, or did they, like the majority of their audience, simply tune the sound of their own voices out? Heron sighed. If the Chancellors so determined, then so must he prosecute the law.

∼

A knock came upon the front post of the tent in which Arch-Vicar General Barabus and Arch-Diocate Iskerus were sharing a late night glass of wine. “Come in,” Barabus called. The tent flap pulled back and in walked Sir Gadius, who had arrived midday on Peace Bringer, his rather large, iridescent unicorn. Frankly, Barabus found the unicorn more disturbing than Talarius’s flying horse, War Arrow. At least he did not feel the winged horse was staring at him in judgment all the time.

The knight bowed his head to the arch-vicar general and the arch-diocate. “My Lords, no luck on the missing Rod member. We have gone over the entire area outside the city a league in radius and found no sign of him. Further, intense questioning under truth sight has yielded no additional information as to what happened to the two horses and tack that have disappeared.”

Barabus shook his head; this was all very disquieting. Apparently, at some point around midmorning, one of the possessed soldiers, still seriously wounded and recuperating, had disappeared without a trace. Vanished from a guarded tent in the middle of the Rod! Further, his tentmates, who had also been recovering from wounds — healing resources and spells had been devoted to the non-possessed wounded first — had all been completely healed and all signs of possession gone. Subsequently, two mounts, a mule and their gear had simply vanished from the stockade. Again, no one saw a thing.

Iskerus sighed. “I do not like this.”