Lenamare gave a small shrug. “We gave him a pretty good spanking, but his ego is ridiculously beyond the pale, as is, of course, typical of archdemons.” He shook his head slightly in frustration at the thought. “Thus, being bruised, we may be assured that as soon as he has recovered and regathered his forces, he will attack.”
“Is this why the Rod and the priests have started moving into the old barracks?” Trisfelt asked.
“Indeed.” Jehenna nodded. “We have reached a mutual aid agreement with them, and they will add to our internal defenses.”
“They have also seen the wisdom of availing themselves of our superior protection,” Lenamare noted.
Hilda had to smile brightly at the implied insult to her church and god. The man was difficult. “Quite an unusual arrangement, I must say,” she said.
“It is,” Jehenna said, nodding in agreement, “and quite odd that their leader, this Arch-Diocate Iskerus, was so suddenly called back to Justicia even as we were sealing the agreement.”
Hilda chuckled. “Well, as they say, the gods work in mysterious ways.”
“Mysterious?” Lenamare wrinkled his nose and shrugged dismissively. “I believe the term is
“Shaman? You requested our presence?” Hespith Fowl Breath asked as she and General Farsbargodden entered the tent where she, Fer-Rog, Rupert and the other shamans of Doom had just completed a Dreaming.
“Yes, change of plans,” Beya Fei Geist informed them.
“Change of plans?” General Farsbargodden asked suspiciously.
“Yes. We’ve just had a meeting with the other shamans searching for Doomalogues,” Beya told them.
“It’s war!” Fer-Rog blurted out.
Farsbargodden’s right eye twitched and the corners of his mouth started to pull upward.
“Not necessarily — not here.” Beya Fei Geist gave Fer-Rog a rueful glance. “However, in Astlan the party was attacked on orc territory by one hundred alvar on hippogriffs.”
“In orc territory?” Farsbargodden’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, and there is an armistice in place. The alvar have violated it with their unprovoked attack,” Beya Fei Geist said.
“Did any of the alvar survive?” Hespith asked.
Farsbargodden glanced at her, apparently surprised she had phrased the question that way.
Beya Fei Geist nodded. “A few did, but were captured by a local tribe on instruction from Lob Smasher. They will be used as proof of the violation.”
“Excellent,” Hespith said.
“However, the only reason there were survivors was because the orcs had not properly trained for combat on D’Wargback,” Beya Fei Geist said.
Hespith nodded in understanding.
“Ragala-nargoloth has been training this entire time rather than traveling. Her party is heading into alvaran-occupied territory; they are expecting to have to clean the Doomalogue of its alvaran infestation,” Beya said. “Where we are going may or may not have alvar, but it will have a variety of hostiles.”
“So, a respite to train,” Hespith stated more than asked.
“That is my thought. General?” Beya asked.
“Agreed.” General Farsbargodden nodded.
“Ariel, your people were very clearly in orc territory,” Trevin said in a loud voice directed at the rather distance-distorted mirror image of the Alvaran prince. She was having a mirroring with the Elders of the Grove, or trying to. At over four hundred leagues from the edge of the Grove and nearly five hundred from the chamber, they were close to the extreme range of mirroring, even with the powerful amplifiers of the Grove and the
As a consequence of the distance, the image quality was poor; about like looking into very shiny metal mirror. The sound quality was similarly poor, and so she had to speak loudly and enunciate clearly.
This was the fourth mirroring she’d had with the Grove since she had received word of the battle. It was the first, however, in which all of the Elders were able to be present. Ariel, in particular, had been away dealing directly with the D’Orc presence. It was, in fact, likely that either he or his sister had ordered the patrols.
“That is but a technicality,” Ariel responded. “They have summoned D’Orcs from the Abyss; that is a clear provocation and in violation of the armistice.”
“Nonsense!” Duranor, the dwarven elder, shouted. “Trevin’s friends in the Council of Wizardry invited an archdemon to join their council. The alvar didn’t try to invade the Council states!”
Trevin shook her head, not understanding what she had just heard. “Wait a minute! Duranor, what was that you just said about the council inviting an archdemon to join us?”
“What? You haven’t heard?” Ariel asked in surprise.
“Heard what?” Trevin asked, concerned.
“Exador!” Duranor said. “Turns out he was the leader of the three archdemons in Freehold. The hundreds of demons were his.”
“What?” Trevin said in shock. “How do you know this?”
