Destroyed city of Brigh, Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri.

49th of Kielat, First month of Summer.

2290 years since the new gods came.

“Brandy!!!!” Max yelled at the top of his lungs.

Brandy quickly appeared from around the tent, “What do you want, MORON?”

“Why is everyone staring at me?”

“Perhaps because you mass healed some six hundred people yesterday? Maybe you also brought a couple of them back from death's door?” Brandy replied, dancing in the air just out of reach, “You kinda looked like a god for a moment there!”

“I will cut you!”

Brandy flew away.

-

Cleanup continued for several more hours, and the mine entrance itself was finally uncovered. “Alright, it's open. Who is willing to go into the depths with me?” Max asked the assembled workers, some of whom he was sure were dead yesterday.

A few hands were in the midst of being raised when the voice of Volkner spoke from the back. “No. None of you have the experience to handle this. I will go with the Heretic, alone.” The dwarf's dwarf walked to the front.

Max looked him up and down, “You were a Delver?”

“Correct, Master Smith. I will mark the way, and you will follow me down. Hopefully we're not too late to save some of our brethren.”

Not my brethren, but whatever works for him, Max thought. “Let's go.”

As they entered the partially collapsed entrance to the mine, the pair started listening for sounds of movement, rhythmic noises that nature wouldn't make, and anything else that would be out of the ordinary. In several spots they had to lay flat and slide under fallen stones where the ceiling had collapsed. As they finally arrived at the mine proper, they heard the hissing sound of gas escaping a pipe. The gas combusted into a ball of fire for a minute, then burned out.

“That's actually a good thing.” Volkner said, “If it wasn't sparking off on something, this whole place would kill us. As it is, I'm impressed the venting system is still working, keeping the air breathable.”

Max nodded, straining his ears in an attempt to hear even the slightest of noises. Hours passed, with nothing but the sound of the occasional gas line hissing, and the occasional air vent blowing cool dry air into the mine.

The pair stopped for a bite to eat, and spoke quietly. “That was about a third of the mine. No signs of life.” Volkner said.

“Yup.” Max kept his eyes roving the area for movement of any kind. “Why are we not calling out?”

“So as not to attract the ghosts of the lost.” Volkner said between bites of dried meat. “They seek the voices of searchers, and try to drag them to where they died.”

“No joke? Not superstition?” Max asked.

“Not at all. I've seen it with my own eyes.” Volkner took a drink of water. “I've chased Delvers who go looking for lost loved ones, and found them having been pulled through holes too small for them to fit. When we finally got them out, their dead loved one was on the other side.”

“That...that is a little creepy.”

“Yes. So we use our ears, and nose, and hands to preform the search.” Volkner said. “I'm surprised you have kept up so well. Aren't humans mostly night blind?”

“...well, yes.”Max said, not having noticed the lack of lights, “Usually we are...”

They left their lunch spot and concentrated on their work. More hours passed, finding no survivors. Finally they stopped for the last meal before heading out of the mine.

“Alright. We've searched enough of the mine for me to have come to the conclusion that this was an act of war, not an accident, or anything self done.” Volkner said.

“How can you tell?” Max asked, “Bjorn never talked about how his people made war on each other.”

“You truly did meet our lord, didn't you?”

“Yup. Took him drinking for his birthday once. He got more drunk than I did that night.” Max smiled at the memory from so long ago. “Those were fun days...”

“Alright then...” Volkner coughed, then continued, “If you look at the ceiling, way up there,” He handed Max a viewing scope, “You'll see that some of the cracks are much to regular to be natural. In other cracks you will see the char that remains from mining charges that didn't completely consume themselves.”

“I see them.”

“And the last proof. Is that no one mines UP in the main shaft. It's much too dangerous.” Volkner said.

- - -

49th of Kielat,

This day is shit, shit and more shit. No survivors underground. We have about six hundred souls rescued from the city above. Total population of the city and mine would have been over fifteen thousand.

The shaft leading to where the attack came from had been collapsed as well, and I bet the fire was set above to make any rescue attempt fail. I did smell one thing down below that I didn't tell Volkner. I smelled demons.

Some survivors have already left, heading to the mines of family and friends. We will be leading the remaining refugees to the next mine big enough to take them in.

My anger burns in my soul.

50th of Kielat,

I used the sending stone to speak to Demonia. Sending stones have been 're-branded' “Calling Stones”. Weird. So I guess I called Demonia. I got the answers I needed, not the ones I wanted.

- - -

Gilip, Demonia's Capital City;

Citadel of Parliament;

Communications Room.

The acolyte of communication 1st grade, Heretic Division, sat at the Rock Board. He made connections, switched out stones, and rematches them with others, completing calls. Only occasionally did he listen in to the more 'important' calls. He nearly jumped from his chair when an alarm went off. No, not an alarm, THE Alarm went off. He ran for the back room, not bothering with the lock on the door, he knocked the door frame out of the wall and stepped up to the holy alter. He stumbled through the quick prayer, hoping it would be enough to keep the Heretics wrath from consuming his soul, and answered the stone. “Yes, Master Heretic?”

“Finally. Someone who isn't an Idiot.” Maxwell said from the other end of the call. “I need to know if Demonia is responsible for the Demons in the Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri?”

“Um, no?” The acolyte responded. “At least I'm fairly sure we aren't.”

“What's your name, son?”

“Alexander?” Alexander the acolyte replied.

“Fine, Alex, how do you not know if you guys are responsible or not?”

“Well, your Hereticness, I'm the Rock Board engineer for the parliament during the day and evening shift,” Alex began, “and occasionally I may have listened in to some of the calls between high ranking officers in intelligence and members of the separate organizations?”

“So...Whatever stone boards are... You can listen to the private conversations of everyone in the government?”

“Yes sir?”

“...splendid...” Maxwell rolled his eyes. “Have you heard anything about a batch of demons in the western mountains?”

“Um... Our tracking systems only monitor the local five hundred mile stretch of the demon wastes, so we have no conformation past that.” Alex paused for a moment and removed a 'Heretic Approved' notebook from his personal (and illegal in the Rock Room) dimensional pocket, and looked through it. “According to my notes, about a hundred and twenty years ago there was a spike in demonic energy in the far wastes, but that signal disappeared before we could launch a reconnaissance patrol to the area.”

“...um...okay...”

“Past that, we have only been receiving reports from agents in Hasandri about the troubles starting and the current state of affairs.” Alex took a deep breath, “As Bjorn is a friend of yours, we have been doing our best to support the 'Prophet' and 'Normal Guy' factions with money and non-military assistance.”

“...I will take you at face value, Mr. Alexander.” Maxwell said. “Next time I'm in Demonia, I'll take you out for a drink.” Max ended the call.

Alexander stared at the stone. If I could tell my mom about this call, she would forever be proud of me! He put his notebook away, and slowly walked back to the now renamed 'Stone Board', when a hoard of high level representatives burst into the room, demanding access to 'The' sending stone.

- - -

The ruins of Brigh, 51st of Kielat,

Two hundred fifty miles to the next mine, Warton. Everyone is ready to leave in the morning. Everyone is treating me like some sort of god. I hate this. We leave in the morning.

...All that having been said, I need to have words with the actual gods. With what I know now, there are some questions I need answered...

52nd of Kielat,

At ten miles a day, this group being so big and unprepared, it will take us twenty five days to make it to Warton. They all act like a god is walking among them. I asked them to stop genuflecting. It didn't work. I'm going to...I don't know what I'm going to do. Vacation! A thousand years this time. That should be enough time for them to forget all this... bollocks.

55th of Kielat,

Tonight is the night. I will sneak out of the camp, and make my case to the idiots and assholes.

- - -

Max rounded the last tent, and let out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding. Freedom! Then he heard the soft sound of wing as Brandy landed on his shoulder. “Heretic Land has gone silent. I asked the rock board operator from Bligh. Nothing since just after midwinter.”

“I'll add it to the bottom of the list of things people think I should deal with.” Max replied. “Anyway, not my business. I gave that place to what's his name. He can...his...kid can deal with it.”

“What if he can't?”

“Then when I visit sometime in the next millennia, I will have a look.”

Brandy gave him a sour look. “Really?”

“Yes. I have to ask the idiots a few questions. You can help.”

“The 'Idiots'? Not the idiots in camp?”

“Yup.”

“Do you think they'll listen?”

“They better.” Max stopped climbing, having reached a small piece of mostly flat ground. “Otherwise things are going to get messy.” He placed an old cookbook on the ground and went looking for a few ingredients.

*-*-*

Celestial Realm;

Council chamber of the Twelve.

“He wants some of us to come down and talk to him?” Aaroness, god of the Sea, complained to the seated council of twelve.

“I will be going.” Narissa, goddess of Tranquility, replied.

“Good job you did with the crying when you showed yourself to him this last time.” Trixie, goddess of Deception, said.

“It wasn't an act.” Narissa said, cold entering her voice.

“Whatever.” Said Trixie.

“If you weren't my half cousin twice removed, I would strike you down.” Fire boiled in Narissa's eyes.

Bjorn looked up from his notes, “That's enough ladies.”

The goddesses in question looked at Bjorn's sleep deprived form, and quieted their ongoing feud over some man from three thousand years back, that neither had been able to tempt away from his lover, and blamed each other's interference for.*

“How do you think he is going to try and call us?” Xames, god of 'Love', asked. “Do you think he's stupid enough to try and use one of those stupid stones of his?”

Bjorn looked up, “Um, actually...I do have one of his 'stupid stones'.”

Xames looked at Bjorn, “Of course you do. I wouldn't expect anything else from you, doting on that mortal so much.”

“He's better company than you lot.” Bjorn retorted, “At least he says what he means, and means what he says. Although I'm not looking forwards to the kick in the nuts.”

“You would actually let him do that?” Iladin, goddess of the Afterlife, asked. “Seriously?”

“How many times did you have to separate him from fighting your guards after told them not to do something, and they did it anyway?” Maximilian, god of War, asked.

“Let's not talk about that, okay?” Iladin softly said.

“Exactly.” Mil smiled.

*-*-*

Maxwell propped the old cookbook on a large rock he had manhandled into place at the edge of the flat spot on the mountainside. He began chanting the ritual at ten minutes past midnight, because screw the gods. The chant only lasted a few minutes.

*-*-*

The council of Twelve, rulers of the New Gods, felt a wind suck at their immortal souls. They looked at one another, and screamed as they vanished one by one.

-

In the public viewing gallery, the assembled gods didn't have a chance to scream as they were ripped en-mass from the gallery, and scattered across the mortal realm like detritus in a storm.

-

Ghondish and Sarah looked at the ceiling in the barn's common room, feeling a tug they hadn't felt in millennia. “What in the hells?” They said at the same time, before they vanished.

-

The small gods, enjoying a light snack of popped corn, merrily watched the the chaos ensuing on the mortal plane.

*-*-*

Max sat down on a log (also manhandled into place) and waited for a response to the ritual. He didn't expect it to work properly. He didn't expect it to work at all.

He'd read it to himself several times before speaking it aloud. He'd burned the herbs. He'd charred the meat. He...may have overdone it on the blood, but what can you do? The ritual's instructions did say that mortals could only suggest that a god or two show up, so he was surprised when the 16 most powerful gods appeared on the small mountainside flat spot.

* He had no interest in either of them because he was actually gay.