Death to the High Lords 13:
The Turncoats
Grell sat shaking in Asmodeus' study, clutching a bubbling goblet in his frail looking hands. His staff was leant against the arm of the chair. He glanced occasionally at Asmodeus, smiling slightly in thanks before continuing to sip from the potion. He drained the goblet to the dregs and sat back, handing the goblet to a waiting Imp.
"Thank you, Asmodeus," said Grell. His voice was stronger than it had been in the chamber of undead at Bel-Pelar. "I appreciate you taking me in like this."
"The Master did not like it one bit. It took some persuading. But when he saw your control over the undead, and your offer for a truce to parley, I insinuated that it may be in our best interests to have you in our sight."
"And on your side."
Asmodeus raised his eyebrows, hiding his surprise with the expertise of the greatest poker player. "Really? And when did you decide that?"
"When Brandicor tried to kill me."
Given the unstable nature of the new Avatar that Dappa and Kepple had reported, and the evidence of his own scrying, Asmodeus was not surprised by that at all. "And when did this happen?"
"Three days ago. After Smilesville fell. He blamed me for the charade that took place there because of your spying techniques and my singular lack at being able to spot them quickly enough. So he had me dragged out by his guards to the courtyard and held an axe over my neck. I couldn't just kneel there and die. I wasn't ready to go just yet! So I teleported away. A little too quickly, unfortunately. I didn't give myself time to calculate a trajectory, and I ended up floating forty feet above the ground. Then gravity took over, and I found myself at Bel-Pelar. But something had been there before me."
"Some…thing?"
"All the messengers were dead, slain by some unknown beast. No army had crossed there. There were no signs of any horses or a large body of men. So I concluded that it could only be one thing. The Horned Reaper."
Asmodeus and Brachus stared at each other. They had been so close.
"I made my way through the ruins," continued Grell, "And sure enough, there was a door hanging off it's hinges at the end of the passageway, and a large circle was drawn in the dirt in the cavern beyond. Someone had called the Reaper and made a quick exit, leaving the creature to it."
"But who?" said Asmodeus, "Who would wield such power over an uncontrollable creature like the Reaper?"
"Surely there isn't another talisman?" said Brachus with alarm.
"No. The Reaper Talisman was one of a kind. The Dark Gods created it and left the pieces lying around in the underground caverns beneath the Sunlit Kingdom. We found them and used the Reaper to destroy King Reginald, but the talisman was destroyed in the process."
"So what happened to the pieces?"
"Well, obviously, someone has found them and managed to piece them together."
Grell stood. "I understand I can have lodgings here?"
"Well," said Asmodeus, "You can try the main lair if you like, but I don't see you being very popular. I'll have an Imp tunnel out a small lair for your private use. Feel free to browse the libraries or use the training room." He waved Grell away with a welcoming smile.
Brachus grabbed his fellow Mentor's sleeve. "How can you be sure that we can trust him?"
Asmodeus shrugged. "I don't trust anyone, Brachus. You should know that."
"Now that doesn't really answer my question, does it!"
"It's not meant to."
_____________________________________________
Grell made himself as comfortable as possible, conjuring a simple bed in his lair and settled in to take in his new surroundings.
The decoration was not entirely to his taste. The skulls did not unnerve him as such. They just weren't aesthetically pleasing given the pleasant green of the floor. However, the yellow slime that fed the mossy floor by running down the walls did fit in rather nicely.
Grell sighed deeply, a sad sound. He had served Brandicor well, only to have his loyalty questioned and ultimately thrown aside. True, he had despised their illustrious leader from the word go, but there was always an underlying respect there, something which was difficult to merely shake off unless that same person whom you respected unexpectedly tried to kill you instead of being merciful, or even conciliatory. The original Avatar would have been quick to forgive such a mistake.
How he missed the old days, when he was fresh out of the Wizard Academy and became part of the great hero's court, listening to the people, helping them in any way they could. Then, Flamuli was hammering at the gates, and the Avatar went to meet him, and despite being resurrected, was defeated by the Keeper's hordes. His body was never found in the underground passageways beneath the ruined city. Those that dared to venture there to look for it told tales of the shades of warriors wandering the corridors, screaming in torment as though in a kind of purgatory. Others never made it back, while still more were driven mad by the visions they saw there. Grell wondered what Brandicor would make of it all when he finally finished the place.
Grell lay back on his bed, staring at the earthen ceiling of his new home, daydreaming of the glory days that would never ever return.
_______________________________________________
Beneath the beating Heart at the centre of the vast subterranean network, Flamuli and Calisto spent yet another evening in silence and contemplation. Even though it looked as if they were not communicating, they would always play a little game.
Each one would try and catch the other looking at them. It was the kind of behaviour usually reserved for a pair of deeply shy and reserved teenagers, but here it was in plain view of the two Mentors. They knew that something was happening that shouldn't be.
Then, out of the blue, Flamuli spoke. "Are you all right?"
Calisto swirled round in her crystal to face Flamuli properly. There was no denying that they were looking at each other now. "Fine," she said briskly, wanting to stamp out this attempt at a conversation as quickly as possible.
"Good," said Flamuli. His voice sounded almost defeated. But not quite. "Can you move?"
Calisto frowned. What an odd question, she thought. "Why?"
"Because…if you don't mind…I'd like the two of us to…be closer together."
Calisto's frowned slowly became wide-eyed astonishment. "Why?"
"Look, just stop asking questions and just do it, will you?"
"Ha! You think you can just order me about?"
"I am your protector, and if you wish to stay protected, you will do as I say!"
"I will not!"
Flamuli pushed a tendril of power out towards Calisto's chamber. "No!" she cried angrily, "You're not dragging me all the way over there!" She pushed out a tendril of her own. The two wispy, snake-like Manna trails met in mid air halfway between them. The colours bled into each other and mingled, feeding into each other's crystal vessels. At first, they both panicked, then fell into a state of almost catatonia. Slowly, the colours melded into one, until the vessels were filled with this same colour. They were totally lost and enraptured in this new sensation they were feeling.
They remained locked in this magical embrace for a long time.
___________________________________________
Asmodeus made his way through the corridors, Brachus in tow. Both of them were carrying maps of the Lands Above, hoping to figure out a route that would have them skirt around Bel-Pelar without hitting another pocket of Undead.
No-one noticed a shadowy figure slipping past them towards the Dungeon Heart.
The figure knew what was happening down there. And they were having none of it.
___________________________________________
Asmodeus and Brachus spread their maps across the Guard Room table. Their recently acquired Dark Elves watched with mild interest.
"Providing we can tail off to the east," said Brachus, "we should miss most of Bel-Pelar's natural caverns."
"And hit an Uplander garrison near the mountains," said Asmodeus impatiently.
"Ah."
"West is relatively clear of Uplander activity, at least under ground. We should be able to move through there without any problems."
"Sounds good to me. Remind me not to think of any plans and leave you to do all the talking."
Asmodeus scowled at Brachus. A scowl that quickly disappeared when he heard his Master's cry.
"NO!"
Flamuli's voice echoed through the entire dungeon, waking every creature and beast in every lair. Asmodeus and Brachus ran for the Dungeon Heart as fast as their legs would carry them. They jumped onto the membrane and descended together, somehow managing not to break the thing, and looked around the chamber. The sight that greeted them was the last thing that either Mentor had wanted to see.
Flamuli's form was utterly distraught as it stared at Jella, wielding a Troll's hammer, standing over the remains of Calisto's crystal chamber.
_________________________________________________