‘Like Keshian Dog Soldiers, trained killers, crazed, vicious, only good for one thing: fighting war.
‘Even the imps are little more than criminals in their society.’
‘Criminals?’ asked Jim, now obviously interested.
‘They have a society,’ answered Amirantha. ‘They have builders—Where was that hall you describe on the other side of the rift where Macros died fighting Maarg?’ he asked Pug.
Pug blinked as if he had never thought to question it. ‘I saw it so briefly.’
‘Yet you described it to me when you told me of Macros’s,’ said Amirantha.
‘I thought it was some other world,’ he shrugged.
‘One the demons had already conquered?’ said Magnus.
Amirantha said, ‘I’ll have to spend a few days studying this.’ He looked at Pug. ‘May I take it to my quarters?’
‘Of course,’ said Pug.
Amirantha put his hands on the book, but instead of picking it up, he opened it to the very last page. The page was folded, and as he unfolded it, the others could see that it had been tipped into the volume, and a four foot by three foot piece of heavy vellum was revealed.
‘What is that?’ asked Jim.
Almost grinning, the Warlock said, ‘Unless I’m mistaken, My Lord James Dasher Jamison, this is a map of hell!’
CHAPTER ELEVEN - Escape
THE BROTHERS STOOD MOTIONLESS.
Laromendis used all of his skill to conceal their presence in the basement as a pair of demons escorted a handful of prisoners out of the cells. Only Gulamendis’s demon sensitivity had alerted them in time. The quip he had made moments before became reality as they stood flat against the wall while the Conjurer made it look as if they were part of it.
The time passed torturously slow yet eventually the door to the cell block was closed and the prisoners marched away. They had been a mixed group: four dwarves, two humans and two elves. All were silent, sullen, yet had not looked particularly fearful.
When the room was empty, Laromendis let the illusion fade. ‘What was that?’
‘I couldn’t understand the language,’ said his brother. ‘The demons are not speaking any language I recognize.’
Since coming to this alien castle on this unknown world, they had been confronted with one conundrum after another. The frustration that had first gripped Gulamendis when he encountered the demon encampment on the previous world, that had raised to a maddening degree when he witnessed the assault by the rival demon faction, was now close to delivering him into a rage at not knowing what was occurring, ‘We need information,’ he said.
‘Where do you suppose we get it?’
‘I think our only choice is to go in there and talk to some of the prisoners.’
‘Are you mad?’ asked Laromendis.
‘Why? Do you think they might give us up to their masters?’
‘If they think it will curry favour, they might!’ argued the Conjurer.
‘What do you suggest, then?’
‘I think we should try to find out more on our own. Let us get out of here and see what else we can discover.’ He sighed. ‘If we find no clear way home, or at least gain a better sense of this place, we can always come back.’ He glanced around and said, ‘Besides, I’d rather strike up a conversation in there with our distant cousins when we’re less likely to be surprised by guards.’
Gulamendis inclined his head as he thought, then said, ‘Agreed. We might better be served to do it while the humans and dwarves sleep. We can certainly count on our kin to not betray us.’
‘You have a better opinion of our people than I do, brother,’ said Laromendis. ‘Come on, and stay close. If I have to conjure another illusion quickly, it will only be a small one.’
‘I shall be your shadow,’ said his brother softly.
‘Which way?’ asked Laromendis.
‘Across or behind? Let’s go forward.’
They set off softly, moving carefully up the stairway that had been on their right hand when they first entered the dungeon.
‘Any other suggestions?’ whispered Gulamendis.
‘Keep still,’ hissed his brother.
They had reached the top of the stairs and found themselves in a vast armoury. At the far end, a group of demons were endeavouring to fit armour to what were apparently new recruits. They communicated with them in grunts and other guttural sounds, showing them how to fasten the new chest-plates and helms. They were so intent on their task, that they failed to notice the two elves who walked into the hall.
Gulamendis backed into the hallway as his brother tugged on his tunic. When they were back in the shadows, they turned and hurried down the stairs. When they were near the level of the entrance to the dungeon, they knelt and peered into the room; seeing no movement they hurried across and paused. ‘That way,’ said Laromendis.
‘This time a little slower, brother.’
‘Agreed.’