by J. Langland
Stevos bobbed his head. “Technically, but Attendant Archons are fairly autonomous. An Elder Archon is more like a steward, coordinator and advisor to the Attendant Archons. In particular, they deal with inter-plane coordination and ensuring that the various churches are consistent from world to world.”
“Whoa. This is more complex than I’d imagined. So then where does Beragamos come in?” Teragdor asked.
Stevos gave the priest a rather wicked-looking grin. “Beragamos does not have an official role in the hierarchy of our localverse.”
“But he is involved somehow, obviously.” Teragdor looked at the saint with a puzzled expression.
“Beragamos is a supreme archon,” the saint said with a very straight face.
“A supreme archon!” Teragdor exclaimed, feeling floored to think he had been in the presence of, and consumed wine and food with, and had laughed with, a supreme archon of Tiernon!
“He is,” Stevos affirmed. “Which means he does whatever he wants to do; involves himself however he sees fit.”
“He is a personal friend and advisor to Tiernon?” Teragdor asked.
Stevos squinted and shook his head gently from side to side. “More like trusted vassal, chamberlain, confidant and advisor. I don’t think gods have friends; at least not friends that are not also gods.”
“But he sees and speaks with Tiernon regularly?”
Stevos nodded in reply. “I don’t know the exact frequency, of course, but from what I gather it’s generally at least every day or two.”
“Wow,” Teragdor said. “I can’t believe I have actually spoken with someone who talks directly with our lord on such a regular basis. It’s like a dream.”
“I would have to agree. I didn’t expect to be involved with people this high up for several hundred years, at a minimum,” Stevos said, shaking his head. “We are in interesting times. It’s been a very long time since Astlan has had avatars on the ground.”
Teragdor frowned; that brought up a question he had. “So I was wondering about that. You avatars are here, doing stuff on a daily basis; what happens if someone prays to you, or needs your permission for a ritual? I haven’t noticed any of you doing any reverse praying, or however it is you answer prayers.”
Stevos chuckled. “You may be over estimating how many prayers I get in a day,” he replied, grinning. However, while we do not need to sleep, we—particularly those with a wide number of illuminaries—cannot be on duty twenty hours a day, four hundred days a year.”
“So what happens to prayers when you are off-duty or away, like now?” Teragdor asked.
“We use our HALO,” Stevos said with a broad grin before biting into the piece of bread he was holding.
Teragdor blinked, not understanding. “You mean your saintly aura?”
Stevos raised and lowered his eyebrows while giving him a grin. “No, HALO: Heaven-Avatar Link Optimizer.”
Teragdor frowned. “Heaven avatar link optimizer?”
“Yes, it’s basically a divine daemon that assists us in our saintly duties, or archon duties for archons.” Stevos said.
“A divine daemon?” Teragdor shook his head. “A demon that works for gods?”
Stevos grinned again. “No, a daemon is a magical construct that carries out certain tasks on behalf of its owner. In this case, the HALO is an offload mechanism for avatars. It provides us with our primary link to the god pool, and if needed, pantheon pools. It is also something that allows us to ‘hang up our links,’ so to speak, so that we do not have to manage all of them all of the time.”
Teragdor had never thought of such a concept. “It holds links for you; that’s very odd.”
“Actually, there are a number of holy artifacts that can do this. Wizards can also construct such devices. Each avatar is very closely linked—bound, in fact—to our HALO; it’s part of the canonization process. It can automate tasks for us, such as processing the mana in illumination streams so that we don’t have to do it manually ourselves,” the saint told him.
“So what about when someone does a ritual that requires your permission?” Teragdor asked.
“We are able to instruct it on how to handle certain prayers from various priests. We can pre-approve certain rituals and mana expenditures for specific illuminaries, and we need to do nothing, the HALO grants permission. If it is something that requires evaluation, or is beyond the pre-approved limit, I am notified and can review and approve or deny the request.” Stevos grinned. “As you can imagine, this can sometimes occur during inconvenient times, such as when I decide to sleep for a while.”
“What about normal prayers from priests or worshipers?” Teragdor asked.
“There is a prayer queue in the HALO. Certain key words or certain people can trigger alerts and the prayer will be routed to me immediately, but all others are recorded with great detail as to emotional state, thought process, all the information I would need to judge the prayer,” Stevos said. “The HALO also allows me to research the combined wisdom of Tierhallon, particularly in the context of the prayer and the one praying, so I can more properly judge the situation.”
“Wow. That sound impressive!” Teragdor exclaimed."
“It is quite wondrous,” Stevos said, nodding. “It also helps me connect with other avatars, passing along prayers, requests, and decisions to others above me or beside me. For example, if a situation requires the assistance of another saint, I can quickly share information from my HALO to their HALO and get them up to speed very quickly.”
“I never really thought of all the things a saint would have to be doing behind the scenes before,” Teragdor said.
“I don’t believe anyone does until they get to saint school.” Stevos chuckled. “As mortals, we all have these grandiose ideas of what it means to be an avatar of Tiernon. It seems so glamorous, glorious, triumphant, being an inspiration and leading the Forces of Good into battle against Evil.” The saint shook his head. “No one ever stops to think about the administrative overhead, the day-to-day grind of ensuring that Tiernon’s glory, light and justice are deployed properly day in and day out.”
Teragdor laughed. “My mentor once said nearly the same thing about being a priest!”
Stevos grinned, nodding. “It’s just the next rung up on the Holy Ladder of Success!”
Tierhallon
Hilda tried to calm her breathing and still her heart rate. She was afraid her stomach was going to twist itself into knots. Beragamos had escorted her to the Hall of Justice and into an anteroom. When she asked when they would be going in, he’d nearly floored her by smiling and telling her that only she would be going in—it was a private audience.
Hilda’s stomach had gone through the floor, and she was now desperately wishing she had a bottle of wine. Although maybe going before one’s all-powerful deity sloshed to the nines might not be the best idea, she thought. She shook her head to try and clear it. She then tried again to meditate to regain her composure, but that wasn’t working.
Beragamos had left her alone in the waiting room about a quarter of an hour ago. He had told her that they’d arrived early so that she would have some time to compose herself. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand in support, sensing and probably anticipating her nervousness.
She released a deep breath, trying to reassure herself that everything was fine and it was perfectly reasonable to be nervous about meeting one of the primal forces of the multiverse. A being whose very existence was a pillar of reality, providing shelter and protection to the weak against the vast powers of darkness. She let out another deep breath, finally starting to relax. It was all about setting up a realistic perspective.
The door to the next room opened gently and a man in his mid to late thirties with closely cropped dark hair, wearing an elegant tunic and breeches with a truly magnificent belt and buckle at the waist, peered out.
“Hilda?” the man asked.
Hilda stood and nodded, approaching the door. The man offered his hand in greeting a
nd Hilda smiled, accepting it. She was having trouble even speaking to the Attendant.
As their hands touched, Hilda nearly passed out. A rush of light, energy, joy, strength and love came flowing through the handshake and into her being, nearly overwhelming her. This was no Attendant; this was Tiernon himself!
She gasped, her knees beginning to buckle. Tiernon quickly reached around and took her by her shoulders. His gentle strength easily supported her weight—not what it was in her youth.
“There, just relax. It’s fine.” Tiernon chuckled reassuringly. “Oddly enough, you are not the first one to have that reaction to my handshake.” He smiled at her and it was as if fierdlight were filling her soul. She glanced up into his infinitely black eyes and... the world wheeled away, blackness and then stars, lights, colors... eternity…
The next thing Hilda knew, she was sitting in a very nice armchair in front of a large mahogany desk in a finely appointed room. She had no idea how she got there.
“My apologies. I forgot to shift my eyes to my mortal form,” he shook his head as if admonishing himself for his mistake. “I had just come from the Palaestra and failed to fully shift.”
“Your godliness,” Hilda said and started to slide out of the chair to her knees.
Tiernon gave her a sharp glance and motioned her back into her chair. “None of that now! We are in private; that kneeling and worshipful rigmarole is appropriate for public ceremonies and appearances, but very tiring for a private conversation.” The god smiled as Hilda slid herself back into her chair.
“As your godliness wishes,” Hilda respectfully replied.
Tiernon smiled at her as he reached down into a desk drawer and pulled out a rather large file folder and set it on his desk. Hilda blinked, wondering if those were her reports. They must be. Tiernon then reached back in and pulled out a crystal ball. The scrying?
“I have to say, Beragamos and the others have been very impressed with your work on this incident—or should I say, series of incidents,” Tiernon said. “And reading your reports, so am I.”
Hilda was still somewhat in shock, but she managed to nod her thanks while replying, “I am honored, Your Godliness.”
Tiernon opened the file and slid up to the desk. “I have reviewed your reports, along with those of Beragamos, Moradel, Sentir Fallon and Stevos.” Hilda nodded. “In particular, I find many of your side findings to be quite interesting.”
“Side findings, Your Godliness?” Hilda asked.
“In particular, the behavior of the Church and the Rod in the battle between Talarius and the demon. I agree with you that these are serious breaches of our doctrine,” Tiernon said.
“That was my thought, Your Godliness,” Hilda agreed.
Tiernon nodded. “I thought we would watch the balling of the incident together and perhaps stop at various points so that I might get your observations on the events, and the actions of our followers. And of course, we will also discuss how this demon did what he did. Which, as you know, is a very grave concern.”
“That sounds very good, Your Godliness,” Hilda replied.
“Excellent!” Tiernon waved his hand as the room dimmed and the balling sprang to life between them.
~
Hilda closed the door to her apartment and leaned against it in exhaustion. Good exhaustion, and exhilaration! She glanced at the clock in her living room and shook her head. She had been with Tiernon for six hours! They had gone through the balling, the actions of the demon, the Rod, and the Church in detail. He had been particularly interested in the destruction of Excrathadorus Mortis. Tiernon had been quite curious as to how it had made its way from Etterdam to Astlan. Unfortunately, Hilda had no idea, but suggested that perhaps Sentir Fallon might know, since it had originally been his blade. Tiernon had nodded and agreed before moving on to Ruiden and its more-than-odd abilities and behavior.
The god had then asked for details about Freehold, the Council, Lenamare, Jehenna, Exador and the others, including Trisfelt. After they had exhausted nearly every aspect on the issue of the mana-draining incident, they’d moved on to the D’Orcs and orcs. Interestingly enough, the god seemed just as interested in the actions of the Nimbus and her crew as he did the D’Orcs.
This seemed a bit odd, given that the Grove was aligned with the alfar and thus generally considered one of the Forces of Good; whereas the orcs—and, she supposed, D’Orcs—were clearly part of the Forces of Evil. In fact, Tiernon was particularly interested in the actions of the alfar. Surely, if the alfar were preparing for war, they’d be contacting other Forces of Good?
More expectedly, he had queried her a great deal about what she had discovered regarding the D’Orcs and what they had told the orcs and others in Murgatroy. Tiernon had very clearly read every one of her reports and seemed to have nearly memorized them. The detail to which he quizzed her, and his familiarity with so much of it, was breathtaking.
She shook her head and finally started moving into her apartment. Time to run a hot bath and break out a nice chilled bottle of sparkling. She was going to stay in tonight; Freehold could wait until the morning. Although she would need to check her HALO, the small box in her study that acted as her proxy and gave her some moments of peace. She shook her head; a saint’s work was never done. She would check it and her prayer queues while she relaxed in the bath.
~
A few moments after Hilda left his office and they’d sensed the outer door closed and the saint safely gone, Tiernon’s brother, Torean, substantiated a physical presence within the room. He was shaking his head and smiling. “Well, brother, I must commend you on your debriefing,” he said, nodding his appreciation. “Extremely thorough.”
“Thank you.” Tiernon smiled. “As you know, it helps to have a good scout.”
Torean sat down and chuckled. “I think you are paraphrasing me.” He shook his head. “You do realize that you are going to want to keep her challenged, lest I try to recruit her to my own service?”
Tiernon chuckled. “She would be well suited to your team. However, as we have discussed before, I am in need of a larger direct ground game of my own.”
“As are we all,” Torean sighed.
“I still don’t know how things got this far. We have tried, repeatedly, to clean this mess up,” Tiernon said.
“We have. Ever since the Etterdam incident, four thousand years ago.” Tiernon’s brother shook his head in frustration.
“Indeed. Nét and the other El'adasir went completely overboard, forcing Orcus’s hand. Sentir Fallon was only supposed to drive him back to Mount Doom, to keep Etterdam from permanently imploding into war and chaos. He should not have been able to permanently eradicate him,” Tiernon complained. “That was not the plan, nor even desirable.”
“Yes, that was a huge setback, to which we have drunk one too many bottles of wine.” Torean shook his head. “How Sentir Fallon and that stupid little dagger were able to kill Orcus permanently is one of the greatest mysteries of the multiverse!”
Tiernon sighed. “I have never in my long life wanted to berate and punish such a massively, insanely huge mistake!” He shook his head furiously. “Even now it frustrates me.”
“First rule of Tartarus: never speak of Tartarus.” Torean chuckled grimly. “We thought this so incredibly useful when we signed up. However, after Sentir Fallon’s screw-up, when arguably we should have banded together with the other clients, we had no idea who the other clients were!”
“Other than the Olympians, of course.” Tiernon laughed ruefully.
“Not that we could ever tell them. They would have wanted to know who we had locked up,” Torean agreed. “This was quite literally an Olympian tragedy.”
“The simple fact we knew of Tartarus would have revealed that we had someone locked up; and they would have had little doubt as to who.” Tiernon shook his head ruefully. “Zeus and Hephaestus were both furious enough as it was over Orcus’s death. There was no way we could add the prisoners to the equation.”
Torean chuckled. “It is no secret as to who is missing around here.”
“In that sense, Sentir Fallon accidentally permanently slaying Orcus on our behalf allayed any suspicions he might have had in regard to the prisoners,” Tiernon observed.
“No one with a prisoner in Tartarus would be so stupid as to slay the warden,” Torean agreed.
“Thus, while Hephaestus wanted war, Zeus was not willing to go quite that far,” Tiernon concluded. “It was, however, closer than I would have liked.”
“That would have been a very unpleasant war.”
“One I am not convinced we could win.”
“I think I nearly shat myself the first time I heard the mighty Tiernon make that statement,” Torean said, chuckling. “A war he could not win? Inconceivable!”
“And so… we could not even acknowledge the horrible implications of what Sentir Fallon had so innocently done, let alone punish him for doing something that was arguably in line with church policies.” Tiernon sighed and closed his eyes.
“Yes, but he should have known about the other ramifications within the localverse, even if he did not understand the implications for Tartarus and the Olympians,” Torean said.
“Nysegard? Yes, of course, and I took him to task for that. However, he told me that he himself had not expected the end result,” Tiernon said. “He was not lying to me.”
“I don’t see how he could not have known.” Torean frowned. “I do not trust him!
“Nor I, but I have no proof. Without proof of wrongdoing, there can be no administration of justice,” Tiernon said.
“Says the god who built his reputation on justice.” Torean shook his head.
“Be that as it may, this is simply rehashing the same discussion for the—I have no idea how many thousands of times—that must end now. It appears there is a new warden of Tartarus,” Tiernon said.
“We hope,” Torean said. “What if the new Master of Doom decides to release his prisoners?”
