daemonictutor
First Post
Finally my grubby paws on the one and only epic of Wyre. Thanks Grodog!! 
Daemonic Tutor
Daemonic Tutor
Soneillon. Part 1 (Updated 6/15)
- Thread starter Sepulchrave II
- Start date
Joshua Randall
Legend
Wyre Dreamin'
It's come to this: Last night I dreamed about Wyre.
I was sitting in the basement with Sepulchrave and Eadric's player, looking at the map of Wyre. I asked them what the rest of the continent looked like, and Sep pulled out a huge, poster-sized map of the world of Wyre.
Then I woke up and there was NO update.
It's come to this: Last night I dreamed about Wyre.
I was sitting in the basement with Sepulchrave and Eadric's player, looking at the map of Wyre. I asked them what the rest of the continent looked like, and Sep pulled out a huge, poster-sized map of the world of Wyre.
Then I woke up and there was NO update.
Gidien
First Post
Hey Sep, excellent story hour. Keep it up.
But I'm kind of lost. I've read bits and pieces of all the threads for Eadric and his companions, but I can't tell the order and now some of the threads seem to have dissapeared.
So, anyways, I hear there are downloads floating about. Can someone add me to the list please? aaronz7777@hotmail.com Thanks all.
But I'm kind of lost. I've read bits and pieces of all the threads for Eadric and his companions, but I can't tell the order and now some of the threads seem to have dissapeared.
So, anyways, I hear there are downloads floating about. Can someone add me to the list please? aaronz7777@hotmail.com Thanks all.
Last edited:
Salthorae
Imperial Mountain Dew Taster
words fail me
This is one of the most well written story's i have ever read. I love the complexities and the difficult philosophical situations that almost all of the players, save randy goat-boy Ortwin, invariably find themselve embroiled within. Your writing has great style Sepulchrave, and I look forward to the "publication" i read somewhere back in the past...9hrs of reading or so that it took me to read through the whole story.
My buddy Felix encouraged me long ago to check out your SH, but I was always daunted by the amount of SH there actually was...it took a great deal of school work to sufficiently encourage me to sit down and begin, but once i start...well it's like Pringles, once you start, you can't stop
This is one of the most well written story's i have ever read. I love the complexities and the difficult philosophical situations that almost all of the players, save randy goat-boy Ortwin, invariably find themselve embroiled within. Your writing has great style Sepulchrave, and I look forward to the "publication" i read somewhere back in the past...9hrs of reading or so that it took me to read through the whole story.
My buddy Felix encouraged me long ago to check out your SH, but I was always daunted by the amount of SH there actually was...it took a great deal of school work to sufficiently encourage me to sit down and begin, but once i start...well it's like Pringles, once you start, you can't stop
Joshua Randall
Legend
Here are the threads, in order:Gidien said:
Lady Despina's Virtue
Lady Despina's Virtue - continued
The Heretic of Wyre
The Heretic of Wyre - Part II
The Rape of Morne
The Rape of Morne - Part II
[Wyre] Book 2, Part 1
You may also want to check out Sep's group's diversionary game, although there's only one post in it so far: Divertimento
Finally, Sep maintains a Rogue's Gallery thread for the character of the Wyre saga: Eadric et al.
grodog
Hero
Support your favorite Story Hour!
If you're so inclined, praise Wyre in the discussion at http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=49314
If you're so inclined, praise Wyre in the discussion at http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=49314
Sepulchrave II
Legend
Things were getting complicated, although the party didn't know quite how complicated at this point. Eadric, Nwm, Ortwin and Mostin - together with Iua and Shomei - were playing with the big boys and the big girls, now. The big boys and the big girls were very clever, and very powerful.
The statistics of some of the clever and powerful big boys and big girls will be posted in the Rogues' Gallery today.
Later, it would get very messy.
**
Schemes
The succubus Lehurze – who regarded herself as an occasional ally of Graz’zt, rather than his abject thrall – adjusted her visage to her satisfaction before pressing the face of the cubic gate which was keyed to Afqithan. She was unwilling to wait for two days until the portal opened, and even more loath to ask her Abyssal master to expedite her transit: the Prince’s mood had been particularly dark and violent of late. This was no special cause for concern in and of itself, but neither was he known for granting boons at such times. And had he been reminded of her, and chosen to slake his lust upon her instead, she feared that it may have resulted in her demise – over the aeons, more than a few succubi had been annihilated during or after the act of passion, whether or not they had begged a favour from him. Best not to draw attention to herself, she thought.
Lehurze played a dangerous game. Graz’zt knew that she was on amicable terms with Pazuzu, but was content to allow her to pass tidbits of information to agents of the Aerial Prince as long as the flow back towards the Lord of Azzagrat was greater in both volume and quality. Demons generally expected disloyalty and duplicity, and, in fact, became suspicious when it seemed absent.
Graz’zt also knew that Lehurze was still close in the confidence of his former ally and paramour, Soneillon – the abstruse and enigmatic succubus whose dark designs may have rivaled even his own. During their aeon-long association, Soneillon had initiated a number of demons nominally loyal to Graz’zt into her clique of followers, of whom Lehurze was one. Lehurze had seized every shred of knowledge which was presented to her, and developed a sorcerous talent of some ability – which she carefully hid from those around her. Lehurze was shrewd enough to appear to reveal the majority of her findings regarding Soneillon to one of Graz’zt’s agents – a Glabrezu named Shonchuk – who paid her handsomely for her information. She knew that Shonchuk was retained directly by Graz’zt – despite the fact that the other demon masqueraded as an informant for one of the Dark Prince’s frequent supporters, Lord Kostchtchie.
Lehurze was therefore surprised when events unfolded as they did. Irknaan, one of the warped sidhe kings from Afqithan, had issued the Nalfeshnee Maihodrot a sending, requesting information on a kelvezu and a group of rogue sidhe who had entered his realm. Maihodrot, the demon who oversaw events in Afqithan and with whom Lehurze at times found collaboration beneficial, had intimated that unusual events might be passing in the little demiplane. Upon further probing he had suggested that Irknaan – whose name was known to Lehurze – might be concerned that Prince Graz’zt bore him some unknown enmity. Lehurze was silent when quizzed by the other demon – her mind working furiously, as she tried to piece together possible scenarios. Many things were known to her, and she was privy to the plots of a number of Abyssal magnates.
Irknaan, she knew, had genuine cause for concern: if Graz’zt had discovered that the Loquai were also sponsored by the demoness Rhyxali, he may have acted to suppress the potential rivalry. Or he may have known for some time, and determined that things had reached a critical juncture. Her curiosity was piqued. Nonetheless, the succubus would have ignored the entreaty, had it not been for a quasit dispatched from her erstwhile mistress in Throile – the disputed Abyssal jungle where Graz’zt and Soneillon warred interminably with one another:
Inquire into Afqithan. A captured Devil has indicated that interesting events may be transpiring there. Shomei the Infernal is somehow involved.
Never one to believe in coincidence, Lehurze had slain the quasit without a moment’s thought, and approached Maihodrot again. After indulging the Nalfeshnee’s violent desires, she had secured the temporary use of the cubic gate which Maihodrot used to access Afqithan and a number of other worlds which he was charged with supervising. Unaware of the greater patterns which were moving, but nonetheless suspicious of the motives of the succubus, Maihodrot agreed to allow Lehurze to act in his stead – confident that he could extract at least a few scraps of gossip from her upon her return. From the Nalfeshnee’s perspective, Afqithan was a tedious and complex world, and he was wise enough to know that he lacked the guile necessary to wheedle anything substantive from Irknaan.
As she stepped through the gate, Lehurze felt a frisson of excitement: as much as she felt at home amid the tortuous intrigues of Azzagrat, occasional escape from the place, if merely to a pocket Faerie, was always desirable.
**
Iua was only partially correct in her suspicions regarding Ortwin. The polymorphed and invisible Satyr had made his roundabout way to the nereids’ pool, where he sat upon a rock and watched the three feys cavort happily in the water. Those with eyes to see would have observed an inane grin of huge proportions fixed onto his face.
After an unknown time had elapsed – it may have been minutes or hours – and seeing no abatement to the nereids’ antics, Ortwin removed his pipes from his belt and began a haunting melody of such enormous poignancy that, had he had tear ducts, Sem – who sat upon a nearby branch – would have begun to weep. The water-nymphs stopped abruptly, seized their shawls from the bank of the pool, and vanished into its depths.
Ortwin raised an invisible eyebrow, and continued to play – the tempo and mood of his music changing to become lighter and less melancholy, although still graced with a sweetness and depth which belied his own fickle and superficial nature. He concluded the tune, and waited.
And waited.
Ortwin frowned, and replaced his pipes at his belt. He pulled his small harp from its case on his back, and struck up another tune – this time accompanying the music with a voice which he hardly recognized as his own. Sidhe vocal chords had a smoothness he was unfamiliar with. He measured the passage of time by the songs that he played, and perhaps a further half hour had elapsed before he sighed and ceased his music. He waited again, glancing up at the eagle – who appeared to have dozed off. He picked up a stick and threw it at the bird, who screeched indignantly.
"Come on," Ortwin picked himself up. "We’re going."
"Better luck next time," Sem replied sarcastically.
"You are no Loquai," a honeyed voice said from the water at his feet. "And you play the pipes passably well for a sidhe – did a satyr teach you?"
Ortwin started, and looked down to observe only his own reflection in the water. He smiled ironically – apparently the invisibility had worn off at some time during his performance.
"Passably well? I am a satyr, lady," he said with quickly recovered charm. "I am Ortwin the Great, King of the Feys of Wyre and the Northern World – not your world, I hasten to add. I am currently in disguise."
"That is an implausible tale."
"But nonetheless true," Ortwin answered, surprised that less than fifty percent of his claim was a lie.
"And why are you here by our pool, ‘King’ Ortwin?"
"I have lustful urges," he admitted, "but that is not the only reason why I’m here. I am looking for information. What can you tell me of the Loquai?"
"Now you make me suspicious that you are a spy," the voice replied with acid humour.
"Please understand that I mean you no harm," Ortwin insisted. "If I had wished to, I could have stolen all of your shawls and forced you into submitting to all manner of lewd acts, and into divulging whatever I wished to know. I am looking for allies. I am the enemy of Irknaan, and his sponsors, and of the umbral bleed, and the taint which lies upon this place. Can you help me?"
"I cannot," the voice replied. "Now begone!"
"What is your name?" the Bard asked. But there was no response. She had fled.
Ortwin cursed.
**
Mostin watched as Nwm made his final invocations on the hilltop. "If you did that every day for ten thousand years, you might make a small impression on this place," Mostin scoffed, as he cast a dimensional anchor.
Nwm ignored him, and repaired the damage caused by the violated horrid wilting that they had sustained. He waited until Mostin apologized before attending to his needs: in the meantime, the Alienist had consumed several gallons of water in his unquenchable thirst.
When Shomei returned, it was in the company of four ecalypses that she had enlisted as steeds – six-legged horses native to Shadow. Mostin guessed that the Infernalist had struck deals with other creatures, although Shomei did not mention them, and the Alienist did not press her: she looked exhausted, itself an indicator that she had busied herself with summonings and callings.
To Eadric, Iua and Nwm, the witch handed small vials containing a transparent liquid which smelled vaguely acidic.
"Consume these," she instructed, sighing.
Eadric looked suspicious.
"They will allow you to master the beasts – currently, they are charmed, but you need to bond with them. The draught will simply allow you to stay on them while you break them. Ecalypses are notoriously willful."
"Where did you procure these potions?" The Paladin asked. The flasks had a faint aura of taint which clung to them.
"Abriymoch," Shomei grimaced. "But they were not made in the Hells, Ahma, only purchased there – with some difficulty, I might add."
"Does every choice that you present to me compromise my principles and threaten to erode my integrity?"
"That is for you to decide."
"And why do you inconvenience yourself for us to such an extent? Do you require payment for your services?"
"No," she said flatly. "And my debt to Nwm is still unsettled: I would have died had he not intervened."
"There is no debt," the Druid said easily.
"Yes," she replied, "there is."
Shomei opened yet another magnificent mansion to corral both the ecalypses and the two remaining nightmares – now that the hilltop itself was hallowed, they could not freely tread there.
"Where is Ortwin?" Shomei asked.
"He is reconnoitering," Mostin replied, avoiding Iua’s gaze.
"Is he warded?"
"Somewhat," the Alienist answered.
Shomei sighed. "We need to be more careful, Mostin. One of my devils is missing."
Mostin raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"
"One of the erinyes, named Aoloz. She was the one I dispatched to Throile."
"This complicates matters," Mostin said drily.
**
Lehurze arrived in Afqithan only moments after Ortwin had begun his flight back to the encampment, and immediately teleported to the gates of Irknaan’s palace. She was granted an audience with the King in private, and was greeted by his customary mixture of inscrutability and condescension. Their exchange was civil, as each probed the other for possible weaknesses. For the most part, Lehurze remained demure, sensing the power of the dark perception that the sidhe possessed – he was ancient, and as cunning as an Abyssal Lord, and she knew that she must tread carefully. Potency and command flowed effortlessly from him, but seemed to find no purchase on her – Lehurze had long since mastered the art of utter passivity, and transformed it into an effective tool for domination. She absorbed all. Soneillon had taught her well.
When the succubus casually mentioned the demoness Rhyxali, she was unsure whether she caught the merest flicker in Irknaan’s impenetrable gaze. She smiled inwardly, as she knew now that the King’s thoughts would be turning rapidly, seeking to make connections and attempting to place her within the larger picture.
Lehurze made no mention of the kelvezu, nor of the sidhe hunting party, until Irknaan broached the subject at the gruesome and shadowy revel which was held later that evening. Nine other succubi were present – compacted to Loquai nobles of varying station – as well as the glabrezu Tebdeluz and Narab, advisors and lovers to Nhura, Irknaan’s beautiful, sinuous, and deadly consort. The presence of Lehurze was a cause for doubt amongst the other demons – the succubus had a reputation for intricate and tangled schemes in Azzagrat, and they, themselves, suddenly felt under scrutiny. Lehurze delighted in the fear that she evoked, and many of the lesser sidhe to whom she spoke, despite their subtlety and guile, were no match for her shrewd and circuitous interrogations.
Irknaan watched her as she mingled. He was confident that he had gauged her correctly: here was one with the ruthless determination and ambition typical of her kind, but also with the skill and patience to actualize her goals – a much more valuable commodity. After their satiation of blood, and grim pleasure, and exquisite pain, Irknaan’s court retired for meditation or private indulgence.
The King and Queen – the latter flanked by the hulking presence of the two glabrezu – remained and questioned Lehurze, who seemed unfazed by the penetrating gazes of the two huge demons. All regarded each other with mutual distrust and cynicism, and beneath an opaque veneer of civility and etiquette, deals were struck, information was exchanged, and secrets were alluded to.
But when Shupthul entered at a late hour with his report, none could have expected the news that he brought with him. He bowed before Irknaan, Nhura, and their guest.
"My Lord and Lady, there are devils at the gate. They seek an audience."
The King’s eyes widened in an uncharacteristic display of surprise. "Their number, arrangement and purpose?" He asked.
"There are thirteen of them, Lord. Their purpose they would not divulge. Ten are Narzugons who wear many honours and decorations."
"And the three remaining?"
"Furcas, Murmuur and Titivilus, my Lord. Infernal nobility."
Irknaan turned to Lehurze. "Perhaps you possess some insight into the presence of Devils in my realm?" He asked acidly.
"I have no more information than you," the Succubus lied, as she considered Soneillon’s mention of Shomei.
The King’s eyes narrowed, and he pondered briefly. "Tell them to return in a day," he instructed Shupthul. "I am disinclined to deal with them presently."
"Offending them too much may be unwise," Nhura said, "at least until we discover their purpose. We should send them a token, and grant them the privilege to hunt, at least. There may be others in their wake."
Irknaan gave a cursory nod. Thirteen devils – even ten knights and three Dukes of Hell – were no particular threat to him in his own fortress, but he was nonetheless cautious. And like Lehurze, King Irknaan did not believe in coincidence. The image of the unknown sidhe hunting party was still fresh in his mind.
The statistics of some of the clever and powerful big boys and big girls will be posted in the Rogues' Gallery today.
Later, it would get very messy.
**
Schemes
The succubus Lehurze – who regarded herself as an occasional ally of Graz’zt, rather than his abject thrall – adjusted her visage to her satisfaction before pressing the face of the cubic gate which was keyed to Afqithan. She was unwilling to wait for two days until the portal opened, and even more loath to ask her Abyssal master to expedite her transit: the Prince’s mood had been particularly dark and violent of late. This was no special cause for concern in and of itself, but neither was he known for granting boons at such times. And had he been reminded of her, and chosen to slake his lust upon her instead, she feared that it may have resulted in her demise – over the aeons, more than a few succubi had been annihilated during or after the act of passion, whether or not they had begged a favour from him. Best not to draw attention to herself, she thought.
Lehurze played a dangerous game. Graz’zt knew that she was on amicable terms with Pazuzu, but was content to allow her to pass tidbits of information to agents of the Aerial Prince as long as the flow back towards the Lord of Azzagrat was greater in both volume and quality. Demons generally expected disloyalty and duplicity, and, in fact, became suspicious when it seemed absent.
Graz’zt also knew that Lehurze was still close in the confidence of his former ally and paramour, Soneillon – the abstruse and enigmatic succubus whose dark designs may have rivaled even his own. During their aeon-long association, Soneillon had initiated a number of demons nominally loyal to Graz’zt into her clique of followers, of whom Lehurze was one. Lehurze had seized every shred of knowledge which was presented to her, and developed a sorcerous talent of some ability – which she carefully hid from those around her. Lehurze was shrewd enough to appear to reveal the majority of her findings regarding Soneillon to one of Graz’zt’s agents – a Glabrezu named Shonchuk – who paid her handsomely for her information. She knew that Shonchuk was retained directly by Graz’zt – despite the fact that the other demon masqueraded as an informant for one of the Dark Prince’s frequent supporters, Lord Kostchtchie.
Lehurze was therefore surprised when events unfolded as they did. Irknaan, one of the warped sidhe kings from Afqithan, had issued the Nalfeshnee Maihodrot a sending, requesting information on a kelvezu and a group of rogue sidhe who had entered his realm. Maihodrot, the demon who oversaw events in Afqithan and with whom Lehurze at times found collaboration beneficial, had intimated that unusual events might be passing in the little demiplane. Upon further probing he had suggested that Irknaan – whose name was known to Lehurze – might be concerned that Prince Graz’zt bore him some unknown enmity. Lehurze was silent when quizzed by the other demon – her mind working furiously, as she tried to piece together possible scenarios. Many things were known to her, and she was privy to the plots of a number of Abyssal magnates.
Irknaan, she knew, had genuine cause for concern: if Graz’zt had discovered that the Loquai were also sponsored by the demoness Rhyxali, he may have acted to suppress the potential rivalry. Or he may have known for some time, and determined that things had reached a critical juncture. Her curiosity was piqued. Nonetheless, the succubus would have ignored the entreaty, had it not been for a quasit dispatched from her erstwhile mistress in Throile – the disputed Abyssal jungle where Graz’zt and Soneillon warred interminably with one another:
Inquire into Afqithan. A captured Devil has indicated that interesting events may be transpiring there. Shomei the Infernal is somehow involved.
Never one to believe in coincidence, Lehurze had slain the quasit without a moment’s thought, and approached Maihodrot again. After indulging the Nalfeshnee’s violent desires, she had secured the temporary use of the cubic gate which Maihodrot used to access Afqithan and a number of other worlds which he was charged with supervising. Unaware of the greater patterns which were moving, but nonetheless suspicious of the motives of the succubus, Maihodrot agreed to allow Lehurze to act in his stead – confident that he could extract at least a few scraps of gossip from her upon her return. From the Nalfeshnee’s perspective, Afqithan was a tedious and complex world, and he was wise enough to know that he lacked the guile necessary to wheedle anything substantive from Irknaan.
As she stepped through the gate, Lehurze felt a frisson of excitement: as much as she felt at home amid the tortuous intrigues of Azzagrat, occasional escape from the place, if merely to a pocket Faerie, was always desirable.
**
Iua was only partially correct in her suspicions regarding Ortwin. The polymorphed and invisible Satyr had made his roundabout way to the nereids’ pool, where he sat upon a rock and watched the three feys cavort happily in the water. Those with eyes to see would have observed an inane grin of huge proportions fixed onto his face.
After an unknown time had elapsed – it may have been minutes or hours – and seeing no abatement to the nereids’ antics, Ortwin removed his pipes from his belt and began a haunting melody of such enormous poignancy that, had he had tear ducts, Sem – who sat upon a nearby branch – would have begun to weep. The water-nymphs stopped abruptly, seized their shawls from the bank of the pool, and vanished into its depths.
Ortwin raised an invisible eyebrow, and continued to play – the tempo and mood of his music changing to become lighter and less melancholy, although still graced with a sweetness and depth which belied his own fickle and superficial nature. He concluded the tune, and waited.
And waited.
Ortwin frowned, and replaced his pipes at his belt. He pulled his small harp from its case on his back, and struck up another tune – this time accompanying the music with a voice which he hardly recognized as his own. Sidhe vocal chords had a smoothness he was unfamiliar with. He measured the passage of time by the songs that he played, and perhaps a further half hour had elapsed before he sighed and ceased his music. He waited again, glancing up at the eagle – who appeared to have dozed off. He picked up a stick and threw it at the bird, who screeched indignantly.
"Come on," Ortwin picked himself up. "We’re going."
"Better luck next time," Sem replied sarcastically.
"You are no Loquai," a honeyed voice said from the water at his feet. "And you play the pipes passably well for a sidhe – did a satyr teach you?"
Ortwin started, and looked down to observe only his own reflection in the water. He smiled ironically – apparently the invisibility had worn off at some time during his performance.
"Passably well? I am a satyr, lady," he said with quickly recovered charm. "I am Ortwin the Great, King of the Feys of Wyre and the Northern World – not your world, I hasten to add. I am currently in disguise."
"That is an implausible tale."
"But nonetheless true," Ortwin answered, surprised that less than fifty percent of his claim was a lie.
"And why are you here by our pool, ‘King’ Ortwin?"
"I have lustful urges," he admitted, "but that is not the only reason why I’m here. I am looking for information. What can you tell me of the Loquai?"
"Now you make me suspicious that you are a spy," the voice replied with acid humour.
"Please understand that I mean you no harm," Ortwin insisted. "If I had wished to, I could have stolen all of your shawls and forced you into submitting to all manner of lewd acts, and into divulging whatever I wished to know. I am looking for allies. I am the enemy of Irknaan, and his sponsors, and of the umbral bleed, and the taint which lies upon this place. Can you help me?"
"I cannot," the voice replied. "Now begone!"
"What is your name?" the Bard asked. But there was no response. She had fled.
Ortwin cursed.
**
Mostin watched as Nwm made his final invocations on the hilltop. "If you did that every day for ten thousand years, you might make a small impression on this place," Mostin scoffed, as he cast a dimensional anchor.
Nwm ignored him, and repaired the damage caused by the violated horrid wilting that they had sustained. He waited until Mostin apologized before attending to his needs: in the meantime, the Alienist had consumed several gallons of water in his unquenchable thirst.
When Shomei returned, it was in the company of four ecalypses that she had enlisted as steeds – six-legged horses native to Shadow. Mostin guessed that the Infernalist had struck deals with other creatures, although Shomei did not mention them, and the Alienist did not press her: she looked exhausted, itself an indicator that she had busied herself with summonings and callings.
To Eadric, Iua and Nwm, the witch handed small vials containing a transparent liquid which smelled vaguely acidic.
"Consume these," she instructed, sighing.
Eadric looked suspicious.
"They will allow you to master the beasts – currently, they are charmed, but you need to bond with them. The draught will simply allow you to stay on them while you break them. Ecalypses are notoriously willful."
"Where did you procure these potions?" The Paladin asked. The flasks had a faint aura of taint which clung to them.
"Abriymoch," Shomei grimaced. "But they were not made in the Hells, Ahma, only purchased there – with some difficulty, I might add."
"Does every choice that you present to me compromise my principles and threaten to erode my integrity?"
"That is for you to decide."
"And why do you inconvenience yourself for us to such an extent? Do you require payment for your services?"
"No," she said flatly. "And my debt to Nwm is still unsettled: I would have died had he not intervened."
"There is no debt," the Druid said easily.
"Yes," she replied, "there is."
Shomei opened yet another magnificent mansion to corral both the ecalypses and the two remaining nightmares – now that the hilltop itself was hallowed, they could not freely tread there.
"Where is Ortwin?" Shomei asked.
"He is reconnoitering," Mostin replied, avoiding Iua’s gaze.
"Is he warded?"
"Somewhat," the Alienist answered.
Shomei sighed. "We need to be more careful, Mostin. One of my devils is missing."
Mostin raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"
"One of the erinyes, named Aoloz. She was the one I dispatched to Throile."
"This complicates matters," Mostin said drily.
**
Lehurze arrived in Afqithan only moments after Ortwin had begun his flight back to the encampment, and immediately teleported to the gates of Irknaan’s palace. She was granted an audience with the King in private, and was greeted by his customary mixture of inscrutability and condescension. Their exchange was civil, as each probed the other for possible weaknesses. For the most part, Lehurze remained demure, sensing the power of the dark perception that the sidhe possessed – he was ancient, and as cunning as an Abyssal Lord, and she knew that she must tread carefully. Potency and command flowed effortlessly from him, but seemed to find no purchase on her – Lehurze had long since mastered the art of utter passivity, and transformed it into an effective tool for domination. She absorbed all. Soneillon had taught her well.
When the succubus casually mentioned the demoness Rhyxali, she was unsure whether she caught the merest flicker in Irknaan’s impenetrable gaze. She smiled inwardly, as she knew now that the King’s thoughts would be turning rapidly, seeking to make connections and attempting to place her within the larger picture.
Lehurze made no mention of the kelvezu, nor of the sidhe hunting party, until Irknaan broached the subject at the gruesome and shadowy revel which was held later that evening. Nine other succubi were present – compacted to Loquai nobles of varying station – as well as the glabrezu Tebdeluz and Narab, advisors and lovers to Nhura, Irknaan’s beautiful, sinuous, and deadly consort. The presence of Lehurze was a cause for doubt amongst the other demons – the succubus had a reputation for intricate and tangled schemes in Azzagrat, and they, themselves, suddenly felt under scrutiny. Lehurze delighted in the fear that she evoked, and many of the lesser sidhe to whom she spoke, despite their subtlety and guile, were no match for her shrewd and circuitous interrogations.
Irknaan watched her as she mingled. He was confident that he had gauged her correctly: here was one with the ruthless determination and ambition typical of her kind, but also with the skill and patience to actualize her goals – a much more valuable commodity. After their satiation of blood, and grim pleasure, and exquisite pain, Irknaan’s court retired for meditation or private indulgence.
The King and Queen – the latter flanked by the hulking presence of the two glabrezu – remained and questioned Lehurze, who seemed unfazed by the penetrating gazes of the two huge demons. All regarded each other with mutual distrust and cynicism, and beneath an opaque veneer of civility and etiquette, deals were struck, information was exchanged, and secrets were alluded to.
But when Shupthul entered at a late hour with his report, none could have expected the news that he brought with him. He bowed before Irknaan, Nhura, and their guest.
"My Lord and Lady, there are devils at the gate. They seek an audience."
The King’s eyes widened in an uncharacteristic display of surprise. "Their number, arrangement and purpose?" He asked.
"There are thirteen of them, Lord. Their purpose they would not divulge. Ten are Narzugons who wear many honours and decorations."
"And the three remaining?"
"Furcas, Murmuur and Titivilus, my Lord. Infernal nobility."
Irknaan turned to Lehurze. "Perhaps you possess some insight into the presence of Devils in my realm?" He asked acidly.
"I have no more information than you," the Succubus lied, as she considered Soneillon’s mention of Shomei.
The King’s eyes narrowed, and he pondered briefly. "Tell them to return in a day," he instructed Shupthul. "I am disinclined to deal with them presently."
"Offending them too much may be unwise," Nhura said, "at least until we discover their purpose. We should send them a token, and grant them the privilege to hunt, at least. There may be others in their wake."
Irknaan gave a cursory nod. Thirteen devils – even ten knights and three Dukes of Hell – were no particular threat to him in his own fortress, but he was nonetheless cautious. And like Lehurze, King Irknaan did not believe in coincidence. The image of the unknown sidhe hunting party was still fresh in his mind.
