certain interests in things magical, and as initiates into the Circle of Light, they shared the early training. But when the Regent’s Meet had disbanded the Circle and, according to rumors, conspired to murder some of their more powerful members, the brothers had gone their separate ways for years.
Later they discovered that on several occasions they had almost run into each other, one time living on opposite sides of the same island for the better part of a year, though Gulamendis had been high in the hills in a cave, as his brother wryly pointed out, while Laromendis had been down in the island’s sole town working as a laborer while the purging of the Circle had continued.
Only the Demon Legion’s onslaught had put off the further persecution of the remaining members of the Circle. Gulamendis was certain others still hid, but most had answered the call of their people, and had been welcomed back to Andcardia when the Regent’s Meet granted amnesty.
Except for the Demon Masters. It was fate that spared Gulamendis, for only days before his arrival at the Regent’s court his brother had “volunteered” for the mission to seek out a refuge for the Taredhel should the demons overrun their capital.
Gulamendis had spent some time in a cage but had been allowed to live; most Demon Masters hadn’t been so fortunate.
The sky lightened and blacks resolved into greys and lighter greys. The Demon Master waited until he could see enough of the trees above them to chance moving, and woke his brother.
Laromendis came awake instantly, but it was clear he was still exhausted. He glanced around and nodded. Without comment the two elves moved into the woods.
The trees were scrawny and parched, and both brothers knew that fresh water might be a problem. The brush was dry and cracked when stepped on, so both moved slowly and with care.
Finally they reached a small clearing, an extrusion of stone that formed a ridge, and on the other side the land began to once again fall away. They peered over the stone and Gulamendis whispered, “Merciful ancestors!”
As far as the eye could see ranged fires, organized in rank and file, so a crisscross of lines of flame defined areas. Around the fires rested figures, and the Demon Master tugged at his brother’s sleeve.
They moved back away from the edge into the relative shelter of the trees. The light from the fires had been what had illuminated the sky the night before, and now they saw that it wasn’t a small fire close by, but many distant fires that had pierced the gloom.
“It’s the Legion,” whispered Gulamendis.
Laromendis said, “Where are we?” As soon as he asked, he knew it was a stupid question, for his brother had no more knowledge of their whereabouts than he did.
They exchanged silent looks, and both knew the same thing; they were on the world being used by the Demon Legion as a staging ground. The demons below were unlike any they had seen or fought, all bearing arms, organized, and resting before invasion. There was a calm that was so unnatural for demons it was frightening, and from the organization witness, they would be moving soon.
Finally Gulamendis said, “There’s one good thing here.”
“Really?” asked his brother, eyes widening.
“If they’re here, and if they are going to invade Home, that means they have a way to get there.”
“A Demon Gate?”
“They must,” said the Demon Master. “We just need to find it and get through it before they do.”
His brother shook his head. Words failed him.
CHAPTER 7
Q UEG
T rumpets sounded.
James Dasher Jamison, Baron of the Prince’s Court, Envoy Extraordinary of the Kingdom of the Isles, occasional diplomat, and full-time spy turned to his companions. Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha were dressed as scholars, in light tan robes and sandals.
“One more time,” he said.
Pug smiled, but Magnus and Amirantha looked annoyed.
“One more time,” he repeated. “These stories must be the first thing
Later they discovered that on several occasions they had almost run into each other, one time living on opposite sides of the same island for the better part of a year, though Gulamendis had been high in the hills in a cave, as his brother wryly pointed out, while Laromendis had been down in the island’s sole town working as a laborer while the purging of the Circle had continued.
Only the Demon Legion’s onslaught had put off the further persecution of the remaining members of the Circle. Gulamendis was certain others still hid, but most had answered the call of their people, and had been welcomed back to Andcardia when the Regent’s Meet granted amnesty.
Except for the Demon Masters. It was fate that spared Gulamendis, for only days before his arrival at the Regent’s court his brother had “volunteered” for the mission to seek out a refuge for the Taredhel should the demons overrun their capital.
Gulamendis had spent some time in a cage but had been allowed to live; most Demon Masters hadn’t been so fortunate.
The sky lightened and blacks resolved into greys and lighter greys. The Demon Master waited until he could see enough of the trees above them to chance moving, and woke his brother.
Laromendis came awake instantly, but it was clear he was still exhausted. He glanced around and nodded. Without comment the two elves moved into the woods.
The trees were scrawny and parched, and both brothers knew that fresh water might be a problem. The brush was dry and cracked when stepped on, so both moved slowly and with care.
Finally they reached a small clearing, an extrusion of stone that formed a ridge, and on the other side the land began to once again fall away. They peered over the stone and Gulamendis whispered, “Merciful ancestors!”
As far as the eye could see ranged fires, organized in rank and file, so a crisscross of lines of flame defined areas. Around the fires rested figures, and the Demon Master tugged at his brother’s sleeve.
They moved back away from the edge into the relative shelter of the trees. The light from the fires had been what had illuminated the sky the night before, and now they saw that it wasn’t a small fire close by, but many distant fires that had pierced the gloom.
“It’s the Legion,” whispered Gulamendis.
Laromendis said, “Where are we?” As soon as he asked, he knew it was a stupid question, for his brother had no more knowledge of their whereabouts than he did.
They exchanged silent looks, and both knew the same thing; they were on the world being used by the Demon Legion as a staging ground. The demons below were unlike any they had seen or fought, all bearing arms, organized, and resting before invasion. There was a calm that was so unnatural for demons it was frightening, and from the organization witness, they would be moving soon.
Finally Gulamendis said, “There’s one good thing here.”
“Really?” asked his brother, eyes widening.
“If they’re here, and if they are going to invade Home, that means they have a way to get there.”
“A Demon Gate?”
“They must,” said the Demon Master. “We just need to find it and get through it before they do.”
His brother shook his head. Words failed him.
CHAPTER 7
Q UEG
T rumpets sounded.
James Dasher Jamison, Baron of the Prince’s Court, Envoy Extraordinary of the Kingdom of the Isles, occasional diplomat, and full-time spy turned to his companions. Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha were dressed as scholars, in light tan robes and sandals.
“One more time,” he said.
Pug smiled, but Magnus and Amirantha looked annoyed.
“One more time,” he repeated. “These stories must be the first thing
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