The Heavenly Host

“They are truly the best guards in the multiverse,” Sekhmekt said. “Nothing gets past them.”

“And to be clear, they won’t be asking any riddles today,” Phaestus said. “They’ll just be killing knights, and any of Lilith’s demons that get in the way.” He chuckled.

“Excuse me!” Talarius shouted from the doorway to the main corridor. He had needed to shout over all the various discussions going on in the command center, which was rather packed.

“Yes, Talarius?” Tom asked.

“Has anyone seen Völund?” The knight gestured behind him to the weird metal being that had dived into Tom’s portal from Astlan. Tom shook his head. He had completely forgotten about that invader. “We are having difficulty getting Ruiden to shift back to his regular form,” Talarius said.

Tom closed his eyes in a slow blink and looked back at the knight, trying to understand what the man was saying and why now, in the middle of preparing for battle. “I am not following you. Who is this Ruiden? I believe he threatened me earlier?”

“He’s my sword; you remember, the one I chopped you to bits with? He turned himself into a golem to search for me; and now he has found me. So we are trying to get him back into sword form so we can go battle Knights of Chaos,” Talarius said matter-of-factly.

“What is a knight of Tiernon doing here?” Sekhmekt demanded after turning around and seeing the knight. She made a motion to grasp the sword on her back.

Phaestus reached out and grabbed her sword arm. “Relax, he’s Lord Tommus’s hostage and is bound by the Oaths of Hostage.”

“Hostage?” The lioness turned to look at Tom curiously. “Are you the demon that stole mana from Tiernon?”

Tom inhaled. “Yes, that would be me.”

“Hah!” Sekhmekt clapped him on the shoulder. “Well met indeed! Bess has been quite preoccupied by you lately. She will be glad to know you are the Master of Mount Doom!” She shook her head. “So much makes sense now.”

“Well... great!” Tom really had no idea what to say; he turned his attention back to Talarius.

“So why do you need Völund?” Tom asked wearily.

“As I said — to help get Ruiden back into sword form!” Talarius said, sounding exasperated.

“How can he help?” Tom asked patiently.

“He’s my father!” the sword said from behind Talarius.

Tom restrained himself from shaking his head in surprise; he would end up getting dizzy if he kept doing that. “Your father?”

“Völund forged Ruiden,” Phaestus explained.

“Seriously?” Tom looked to Phaestus.

“Yep, apparently to help vent his anger at Orcus’s death.” Phaestus shrugged. “Which is why Ruiden likes to slay demons so much.”

“That makes sense,” Sekhmekt nodded thoughtfully. “Vengeance is usually the best way to get a good forging. I mean, it’s no real substitute for a good, final forge quenching in the blood of newborns, but it’s a good third or fourth.”

Phaestus sighed, shaking his head, looking up at his wife. “How many times have I told you those are just old wives’ tales! There is no basis for quenching a blade in newborn blood. Seriously, the metal doesn’t care if the blood is from a newborn or an old man.”

“Are you calling me an old wife?” Sekhmekt stared down at her husband.

“You know that joke is getting old.” Phaestus stared back at her, undeterred.

“Okay.” Tom looked at Talarius. “Zog Darthelm in the TCC will know where Völund is. He’s working on bringing up some heavy artillery.”

Phaestus gestured to Talarius and Ruiden. “Come with me, I need to find him to determine if we are going to get the high-tech stuff ready in time.” The smith headed towards the TCC.

Sekhmekt nodded to the mapping table. “Great table! Let’s talk strategy and tactics! War is something of a specialty of mine.”

∼

Tom’s body sat on his throne in the center of the volcano, his right arm gripping the Rod of Tommus in its throne holder. His mind, however, was running through the Doomplex and the DoomNet. Lilith’s forces would be shortly crossing the border to the land connected to the DoomNet.

The D’Orcs were quickly armoring and organizing into their ranks and companies. At first the D’Orcs had grumbled, annoyed to be awoken from their glarghvost-induced slumber, but when they’d learned of the size of the demon army and the fact that a Chaos Maelstrom was on its way, they’d perked up with excitement. Arg-nargoloth had told Tom that for D’Orcs, the best cure for glarghvost was blood. Mayhem, the act of hacking an opponent limb from limb, was the perfect activity to clear away the cobwebs of the mind.

Fer-Rog and Rupert were complete sleepyheads this morning; Zelda had sent them along with Reggie to bard the D’Wargs. It would be a new experience for them, but a great learning exercise. Antefalken had returned with him, having borrowed Damien’s scrying ball to record the battle. There was no way the bard was going to miss out on such an epic battle.