I handed over the dagger, and we all ran through the portal. To say that our sudden appearance in the Material realm was ‘unexpected’ would be putting it mildly. Fortunately for us, the only guards were a few ordinal humans, wearing the livery of the army. Made sense, since no one would think to protect against an attack coming from their home base, especially when that base was the home plane of a god.

Siora snapped off a spell, and the warriors froze in place, unable to sound the alarm or attempt to attack us. That was fine, because I had other things to do. Like using that scroll Xisiana had provided.

Melinda’s Use Magic Device check: 1d20+52 = 61 (Success)

The Scroll of Hell’s Welcome activated without a hitch, and the parchment glowed with an infernal red light before disappearing in a flash of fire. As one, seven pillars of that same infernal light shot up around the city, followed by a low rumbling as seven pillars of hellwrought iron rose in their place, towering over the buildings. The light then spread to either side of the pillars, forming a barrier around the entire city. Next, the light began snaking into the city, following trails laid down by streets that were almost five hundred years old, a magic circle written into the very design of the city itself.

Great chains shot out from the towers, slamming into the ground, and locking themselves into place. And it had still been just mere seconds since I’d used the scroll. Not enough time for the army in the city to gather their wits from the sudden change. As if even the angels would be able to stop what was happening.

The ground shook, as, link by link, the chains began retracting. But they did not tear out of the ground. Rather, by some infernal magic, the ground was being ripped up with them, the entire city rising slowly into the air!

“By Auril’s frozen breath!” I cursed. “It isn’t just taking the souls of the archons to the Hells! This is taking the whole damn city!”

The Erinyes next to me laughed. “Yes, indeed! I never said it would just take the archons, you know. The entire city is being drawn into Nessus, Ninth Layer of Hell, and home to the Lord of all the Nine, Asmodeus himself.”

I looked over at the portal, which, even now, was beginning to sink through the street, locked in place even as the city was drawn up past it. “What of the portal? How long until it destabilizes?”

“Less than a minute on the other side, perhaps an hour on this side? The city will be in Nessus long before then, so there is no worry about destroying Lord Asmodeus’s prize. A prize which I shall be greatly rewarded, I’m sure.”

I nodded slowly. “Well, as great as that sounds, I believe our contract is now fulfilled. We have upheld our end of the bargain, and you upheld yours. I think it would be best for us all if we took our leave now.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Xisiana grinned wickedly. “Yes, our contract is done, but I’m afraid that flying, or even teleporting will not get you out of the city, not until it has moved fully to Nessus. You should stay, and see all that the Lord of the Nine has to offer his ‘guests’.”

Vestele nodded softly. “So, it was as we expected, then. Not a betrayal, for we made no promises to each other past the confines of the deal itself. But clearly you had this planned and decided not to tell us the specifics.” She shook her head, before looking at the space they were in, as the sky began changing from blue to red. “No matter. We should be far enough out of phase for it to work. Melinda, if you will?”

Melinda’s Plane Shift check: 10d100 = 495

“Right, right.” I grinned, and pulled out the Veilsplitting Blade. With a slash of the obsidian dagger, a portal opened by my side, leading back to the Material Plane. As the others piled through, I smiled at Xisiana, who simply shrugged.

“Can’t blame a devil for trying, can you?”

“No, it is in your nature. Just like we prepared for this. No hard feelings, and have fun with all those archons.” And, with that, I stepped back through the portal, and shut it behind me.

The icy air of the northlands hit me, and I could not help but smile at the familiar feeling. It had been too long since I’d felt the frost in the air, or heard the howl of the Frostmaiden’s breath stirring up a blizzard. Well, it had been only a few weeks, by my reckoning, but I knew that it had been much longer in the mortal realm. But how much longer?

“So, Mel,” Siora said, breaking my line of thought. “Where exactly are we? I know for sure that we are nowhere near Magika.”

“Well, that is because I didn’t want to bring us back anywhere near Magika, and risk running into the explosion, when it happened.” I looked around, taking in the scenery. We were on a glacier, that much was clear. Given that I’d set the target for my old camp, where the tribes had gathered for war, this should be somewhere on the Endless Glacier. But the glacier was so wide that it would take a month or more to cross it from one end to the other, even on horseback. Twelve hundred miles from end to end, and we were somewhere within that span.

“Somewhere on the Endless Glacier, from the looks of things. Hand me the teleportation scroll, and I’ll get us someplace with more people.” Siora handed over the teleportation scroll, and I paused briefly to focus my ability to trick magic items.

Melinda’s Use Magic Device check: 1d20+52 = 64 (Success)

There was a moment of nothingness, as white descended upon us, and then, we were just where I wished for us to be, a mile out from the gates of Trenia. It had been some time since I’d seen the city, but the immediate changes were quite obvious, even from this distance. My standard hung openly from the city walls, declaring that the city had fallen to my army. I wondered how badly it had been damaged in the fighting.

Still, I grinned, and turned to look at my friends. “Welcome to Trenia. It appears my forces have been busy in my absence, so we should find a royal welcome here!”

(Elsewhere)

“AAGH!”

Gery held his sister’s hand as she screamed in pain, lending her his strength the only way that he could, as the midwife performed her duties. Her time was upon them, and it was fortunate that the city had not been ill used by the army of monsters and tribesmen that had descended upon it. The healer’s hall, in particular, was undamaged, and so they were able to get Balde to the midwives, and they would do all they could for her.

The local shrine to the Red Knight had also been undisturbed. In fact, the army made a point of not touching the shrines or temples of any god in the city, unless the priests attacked them. The temple of Tyr had already been razed to the ground because of that, but the others remained.

“Good, good. Keep pushing, now. You’re doing great, Balde.” The midwife’s voice was cool, and calming, a stark contrast to the energy given off by the brother and sister, soon to be father and mother. They, naturally, were more than a bit worried, not just because they wanted to ensure that both mother and child came through this in good health, but also because the prophecy was repeating itself in the back of their minds.

Either way, there was no going back from their fate. Any chance they had of changing this course had passed them by months ago, before they even knew they were upon it. And all Gery could do was sit there and try not to grimace too much as Balde tried to break his hand each time the pain struck her.

The vicelike crushing of his hand was coming in faster intervals now. That meant something, right? He looked at the midwife, who was far too concerned with his sister to acknowledge him, at the moment. “Almost there, dearie. I can see the child now. You’re doing wonderful. Just a little bit more.”

That little bit more took half an hour more, but soon the ordeal was over. The baby was safely free of the womb, and in good health, and between Gery and Balde’s abilities as paladins, Balde’s bleeding stopped soon after. By then, the newborn child had been cleaned, and wrapped in a warm blanket, and the midwife presented him to Balde.

The midwife smiled at her. “Congratulations, Balde of the Red Fellowship, you have a healthy baby boy. What is his name, so we may put it in our records?”

Balde looked up at Gery, tenderness in her eyes, now, instead of pain, and then back down at their son. “Folkes. His name shall be Folkes, after my father.”

And then the sound of hunting horns sounded, starting at the gate, and then returned until the entire city echoed with the sound.

(Back in Geburatiel)

With a final swing of Duty’s Bond, his two-handed greatsword, Torm cut through the infernal ward that had fallen upon the square in the center of his domain, causing it to shatter and disappear. Striding forth with a flight of archons at his back, he saw the square empty, save for the corpse of a fallen archon, slain with a blade of some sort. Stalking forward, he knelt briefly by the side of the archon, but the soul was gone. Stolen. Not even his godly power could bring the trumpet archon back as he was now.

“Take this one to my halls, so that his body can be tended properly.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

Two of the archons picked up the dead one, and took wing, flying to Torm’s palace in the center of the realm. As they left, Torm turned his attention to the portal in the center of the square. The portal was flickering, becoming unstable. The reason why was obvious enough, given the conspicuous lack of one of the four orbs that were supposed to regulate that arcane power.

“My Lord!” His Chief Arcanist cried, as he reached the scene. “This is terrible! Without the four orbs, the energy is becoming unstable! There’s no stopping it from destabilizing entirely! We must flee, before—”

The Chief Arcanist’s words were cut off by the entire world fading into whiteness.

(On the border of Silverwood and Thedra)

Queen Findelye Seharinthe looked out over the field where refugees from Thedra were crossing the final border between that war-torn land and Silverwood. Of course, she was hardly in a place to be calling another land ‘war-torn’. Her sister’s plot had been brutal in its scale. Nine out of every ten elves in Silverwood had been affected by the corrupted grain. Once they knew the source of the corruption, and knew the signs to look for, priests and alchemists came up with treatments quickly. Even so, seven out of every ten Delves lay dead when the fighting was done. To say Silverwood was merely ‘war-torn’ would be an understatement of obscene proportions.

She was here to oversee the situation, as there was no small worry about the Thedran army hoping to fall back and retreat through Silverwood, drawing the archons in charge into attacking her weakened kingdom. Or, they could try and do something more threatening, like trying to conquer her lands to use as their new base of operations. This, naturally, was not something she would allow.

All of a sudden, there was a great flash of light from over the horizon, like the noonday sun come to rest upon the earth. A few seconds later, a rumbling could be felt, as the ground quaked from some terrible power being unleashed. When the light faded, she could see a great cloud, like a mushroom rose up from the direction of the Thedran capital.

“Blood of the gods!” Someone gasped, and she did not have the strength to correct them for the language. It was only later that she realized she was the one who spoke, for all others in her retinue were too stunned to speak. She managed to shut her jaw, which had hung open freely, and said, “What in the name of the gods happened there?”