03- The Apostles of Doom

by J. Langland

As he headed toward the light, he was somewhat surprised that it was not the red light of the Abyss, but rather appeared to be more like natural daylight. He hurried on towards what was now clearly a tunnel exit.

  Talarius stepped out of the tunnel onto a small ledge on the side of a mountain and looked down slope to see a village on the edge of the ruins of a larger city. He shook his head in amazement. He was free of the Abyss! He noted birds flying in the sky, and grass and other greenery swaying in a gentle breeze. While it was mostly fierdy, storm clouds were moving in over the top of the volcano.

  The knight pulled off his helmet, prepared to put it back on quickly if the atmosphere was dangerous. It was not! He could smell fresh, natural air. He was back on the Planes of Man! Thank Tiernon! He felt like shouting with joy; however, he dared not, lest he alert his captors. He grinned and shook his head in amazement.

  He noted a trail leading down from the ledge to the village below. Should he take it? Or should he head for parts unknown and escape? If he went to the village, it was likely that the D’Orcs would find him. Unless, of course, they’d raided the village and moved on.

  He glanced back to the village, thinking about putting his helmet back on for his visor’s long distance vision, but then rejected the idea. He liked the fresh, temperate air. The village was some distance away. It did appear there was some smoke, but only from some huts, and consistent with cooking fires. There was also motion in the village, so not everyone was dead.

  This was curious. Why hadn’t the D’Orcs killed everyone? True, they had not killed everyone in the towns where they’d gotten supplies. Perhaps it is an orc village?

  That would make sense, Ruiden replied. So? Are we going to make a run for it?

  Talarius sighed. As tempting as his thought of fleeing away from the village had been, he could not. For one thing, he had no idea what world he was on. They sky was not quite the correct color, and the fierd did not look right either; it seemed a bit smaller. The other thing, of course, was that he was technically bound by the rules of hostage. His captor had honored it; thus so must he. He was not free to escape.

  No, Talarius told Ruiden. We are honor bound.

  He shook his head. Prior to his battle with the demon, he would have scoffed at the idea that the concept of honor applied to demons. However, much to his chagrin, his captor had behaved with far more honor than Talarius himself had. It was quite infuriating, if one thought of it, that a demon was behaving more honorably than a Knight Rampant. It was not something Talarius could tolerate. When they’d gone to battle the Knights of Chaos, he’d sworn to himself that as long as his captor treated him honorably, he would treat honorably with the demon. As a knight, it was the least he could do.

  Talarius sighed and began heading down the path to the village. It was a fairly steep path, but well maintained. The maintenance was interesting. D’Orcs would not need to maintain a path, or even tread one, given that they could fly. That meant someone else, that did not fly, was journeying back and forth to the mountain. Talarius glanced behind him.

  Not mountain; volcano, he corrected himself. There was a very clear volcanic bowl at the top of the mountain, along with clouds of soot belching from it. He snorted. It was like a miniature Mount Doom! He shook his head. What was this place?

  As Talarius got closer to the village, he was surprised to see that, while ringed by a very sturdy, and even formidable, palisade, the gates were currently open and he could see people. Yes, people! Humans, dwarves and orcs, all wandering around, conducting the daily business of villagers. There were also a fair number of children.

  He noted a group of youngsters of various ages and races outside the palisade, engaging in mock combat with swords and shields. What a very odd sight. There were clearly two teams, marked by ribbons on their arms, but the teams were not divided by race. Each side was a mix of humans, dwarves and orcs.

  That was quite odd. Normally, even with an alliance, humans would fight in human armies or regiments, orcs with orcs, and dwarves with dwarves. Obviously, there were exceptions, particularly with exceptional warriors of each race; however, such a random mixing was unusual in Talarius’s experience.

  He stopped near the mock combat to observe more closely. An older man, a human in leather armor who was teaching them, noticed Talarius presence and smiled as he walked over.

  “Welcome,” he said. “I am Timeron. You came from the volcano; are you with Lord Tommus?” The man, speaking an oddly accented dialect of High Etonian, extended his hand in greeting.

  Talarius blinked, surprised at the man’s friendliness. He quickly pulled off his gauntlet and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you. I am Talarius. Yes, I have come from Mount Doom. I am a guest of Lord Tommus.” He felt that was the simplest explanation that wouldn’t raise too many questions.

  Timeron smiled broadly. “Indeed, welcome. Lord Tommus’s return is a glorious victory for the Forces of Light!”

  Talarius shook his head, not sure he had heard the man correctly. “I’m sorry. Did you say a victory for the Forces of Light?”

  The man nodded. “Indeed! At our height, Doom was the greatest of the Forces of Light here on Nysegard!”

  Talarius blinked again. Nysegard? A world so nasty and lost to darkness that the Church had placed severe restrictions on traveling there? If this was Nysegard, then fleeing would not have been a wise choice.

  This could actually be fun! Ruiden whispered in his head. The sword loved slaying undead.

  “So this is Nysegard?” Talarius asked.

  “Certainly. Did no one tell you?” Timeron asked.

  “Well, I was occupied on other matters, so was not at the council meetings,” Talarius hedged.

  “Ah.” Timeron nodded his head. In doing so, he noted the Sword and Shield of Tiernon amulet on Talarius’s belt. “Tiernon? Are you a knight of Tiernon?”

  Talarius froze for a moment, suddenly nervous again. “Uhm, yes, a Knight Rampant from Astlan. I am surprised you recognized it. I did not think we had a large presence on Nysegard.”

  To Talarius’s shock, Timeron nodded his head. “Not for thousands of years. However, your people are still here. There are a few followers even here, on the Isle of Doom. No priests though, just family worshippers with long tradition. A god of light and justice is always popular among warriors fighting the Forces of Darkness. However, over on the larger continent, there are still a few fortresses manned by the Shield of Tiernon,” Timeron said.

  Talarius blinked. He was not sure what the Shield of Tiernon was, but presumably it was the Nysegard equivalent to the Rod of Tiernon. He refocused on what Timeron was saying.

  “That’s how I recognized the symbol. We have a communication stone to them, as we do to the other groups composing the Forces of Light,” Timeron told him.

  Talarius was stunned. “So you have fought beside them, as allies?”

  “Not me, of course; Targh and several other D’Orcs have. Pretty sure we haven’t fought side by side for hundreds of years.”

  The knight suddenly felt dizzy, as if he might swoon. “D’Orcs have fought alongside the forces of Tiernon?” His voice sounded weak, even to himself.

  Timeron made some sort of shrugging expression. “According to the tales told by the D’Orcs who were there. We’ve even fought alongside the Los Alfar, and believe you me, that’s one crazy alliance.” He shook his head in wonder. “Apparently it was all both sides could do—orc, D’Orc and the Los Sidhe—not to kill each other. However, given the overwhelming threat of the Forces of Darkness… well, strange bedfellows and all that.”

  “Yes,” Talarius said, feeling quite dazed. “Orcus, Champion of Light?” he mumbled to himself, but Timeron apparently heard him.

  “Indeed, that is how he is known in Nysegard.” Timeron shook his head. “Things got very, very bad when he perished.” He gestured to the ruins. “The Unlife nearly overran the Isle of Doom. All of our major cities were flattened. Tens of thousands lost their lives to the Unlife.”
/>
  Talarius felt a cold shiver run down his spine at that thought. Naturally, it reminded him of Melissance. He had to block that memory from his mind, lest he sink once more into despair. He looked sadly at the soldier. “Cleaning up after the undead is no easy task.”

  Timeron closed his eyes briefly. “Indeed; I fear the ‘clean up’ is worse than the actual battle.”

  “It is far more heartbreaking,” Talarius said with a small catch in his voice.

  “You’ve lost loved ones to the Unlife?” Timeron asked sympathetically.

  Talarius nodded, trying not to get moist-eyed. “I have. More than I can count.”

  Timeron gave a sad laugh. “On Nysegard, such is Life, as we say.” Timeron intentionally stressed the word life to emphasize the dark truth that came with living surrounded by Unlife.

  Talarius turned his attention back to the students, trying to get his mind off his own thoughts. “Clearly, training is critical here on this world of perpetual war.”

  Timeron nodded. “It is, and they shall be tested soon.”

  Talarius looked at him. “You have word? Or is it just that common?”

  “No word, but the Storm Lords will not sit idly by as we try to restore the Peace of Doom to our lands. They will attack harder and more viciously than they have in centuries—perhaps millennia,” Timeron said grimly.

  The Courts of Chaos: Fourth Period

  “So, you have our bait here in the palace now?” Lilith asked Asmodeus as they sat in front of the coldfire blaze in the fireplace, chilling their sweaty bones on a typically balmy night in the Courts of Chaos.

  “Yes, indeed I do. Hesseforthalus brought her to the Courts earlier today,” Asmodeus replied before taking a sip of blood wine. “Hmm, a thirteen-year-old male virgin. How tart and refreshing!”

  “It is, is it not?” Lilith agreed with a smile, then tilted her head in sudden remembrance. “Before I forget...” she switched the glass from one hand to the other and reached down beside her to retrieve a small satchel. “It is too risky to keep our bait here in the city; Sammael or others would eventually discover her. So here are maps, codes and instructions as to where I wish to store her until we can decide on how best to use her.” She handed the packet to Asmodeus, who took it from her with a nod of acknowledgement.

  Asmodeus looked at the packet for a second. “I trust that if I assign Hesseforthalus to principal guardianship, that will be fine?”

  Lilith shrugged. “Your vassal; if you trust him, fine.”

  “I do,” Asmodeus said, nodding. “Apparently, she is one of his prized possessions or something.”

  Lilith rolled her eyes and waved the thought away. “So what was the story again? Vampires, corruption?” she asked, returning to their earlier conversation.

  “Well, it turns out it’s a bit more complicated,” Asmodeus replied. “The vampires were not so much agents as colleagues, and they were the leads in a more complicated Unlife plot not particularly related to Hesseforthalus. Turns out they infected a large number of local Tiernon followers with ghoulism.”

  Lilith grimaced. “Never cared for ghouls. No table manners.”

  “Truly,” Asmodeus agreed. “However, their high priestess went after the vampires directly, trying to stop them. Well one thing led to another, a number of very juicy betrayals on the part of her staff, and well, as these things typically go, she ends up getting infected herself.”

  “Mmmm.” Lilith pursed her lips. “I assume a half-dead, Unlife-infected high priestess doesn’t go over really well with the boys Upstairs.”

  “Indeed. She was immediately cut off from Tierhallon and was unable to heal either herself or her flock of devoted followers,” Asmodeus said.

  “And Talarius comes into play how?” Lilith asked.

  “Turns out they were romantically involved,” Asmodeus said.

  “Ah, yes, I recall you mentioning that.” Lilith nodded.

  “Yes, and the vampires asked for a few favors in return for releasing her. Talarius, however, believing that Melissance had succumbed to ghoulism of her own free will, was none too amused.”

  “Who in their right mind would do that?” Lilith interrupted. “Be a vampire?” She shrugged, indicating “perhaps,” and then said, “But never a ghoul or even a ghast.”

  “Yes,” Asmodeus agreed, “however, I doubt the knight was thinking this sort of thing through at the time. In any event, he refused.”

  “So then how did she end up in Hesseforthalus’ possession?” Lilith asked. “One would expect she would have simply endured a very long living hell as a ghoul, or died of starvation, or be killed by some holier-than-thou type.”

  “Well, it turns out that Hesseforthalus was negotiating with the vampires. He was somehow involved in the corruption as well—not so much as the master, but as an ally. I really don’t know, nor do I care. The man is an always wrapped up in some crazy machination, way too taxing to follow the details… in any event, the ghoul Melissance found a Calling Token of Hesseforthalus’s that the vampires possessed, and used it to summon him and strike a bargain.”

  “The plot is getting a bit twisted.” Lilith frowned.

  “Indeed. In any event, she wanted her flock cured of ghoulism, which she could no longer do, having been effectively excommunicated. So she made a bargain with Hesseforthalus that if he cured her flock, he could have her soul.”

  “Ahh, now I see!” Lilith said. “And by taking her soul into the Abyss, she would be cured of ghoulism herself.”

  “Precisely. She would only have to suffer eternal torment at Hesseforthalus’ hand,” Asmodeus nodded.

  Lilith wrinkled her nose. “I think I would have chosen the ghoulism. Your servant is a bit of a pervert, even by this place’s standards.”

  “Yes, well, we should not judge. Different cultures, you know. Remember, he was originally a Denubian.”

  “Ah, right. Hmm, not sure I knew that; however, it does explain all the mouths.” She shrugged, now gaining more insight into the archdemon.

  “Indeed. However, she wanted to save her people,” Asmodeus said.

  “So naturally, Hesseforthalus cured them. A bargain is a bargain,” Lilith said.

  “Oh, of course. Naturally! And as soon as they were cured, in burst the vampires’ ghoul squad and reinfected them, right before her eyes!” Asmodeus said, beaming.

  “Ah, yes, demonic justice! It warms the heart.” Lilith raised her glass towards Asmodeus in a toast.

  He reciprocated with his glass, allowing them to clink. “And chills the soul…” He gave Lilith one his more endearing evil grins.

  The Inferno

  Barabus, Captain Cranshall, Chancellor Alighieri and Sir Samwell stood on the walkway overlooking the work area where the priests of Tiernon and Oorstemothian wizards were working on the Ritual of Seeking. The three Knights Rampant, along with four Paladins, stood at the Seven Points of Holy Protection surrounding the working. The room was quiet except for multiple groups of chanting individuals, composed of both wizards and priests. Each of the thirteen groups were chanting spells, rituals or mantras that were part of the very complex multidisciplinary effort that Diocate Temerlain and CSO Halferth had devised.

  “A very interesting effort, if I do say so myself,” Sir Samwell said softly to the others.

  “Indeed,” the chancellor agreed.

  “What do they expect the range to be at current power levels?” Sir Samwell asked.

  “Temerlain has said they should be able to cover a radius of about three hundred leagues,” Barabus replied.

  “An eighteen-hundred-mile diameter—that is quite impressive,” Sir Samwell said, frowning.

  “It is indeed, particularly given the unexpected limitations the priests are facing,” Chancellor Alighieri agreed.

  “Of course, given that the Abyss is, as far as anyone knows, infinitely large,” Sir Samwell continued wryly, “this might take us a few thousand years.”

  Chancellor Alighieri made a choking noise,
even as Barabus and the rest turned to stare at the knight.

  “I hope you were not in a hurry to get home?” asked Sir Samwell.

  “Well, obviously we cannot physically spend that much time!” the chancellor exclaimed.

  Sir Samwell shrugged. “You have a deadline back in Oorstemoth? Otherwise, given how long I’ve been here, we can certainly stick around.” He shook his head sadly. “I cannot tell you how saddening it was to realize, the other day, that all my friends, family and colleagues in Oorstemoth are long dead.”

  The others on the walkway looked at each other, trepidation at their undertaking finally starting to sink in.

  Mount Doom: Early Sixth Period

  Tom sat staring into the coldfire blazing in the fireplace of his sitting room. It was strangely hypnotic and helped him concentrate on trying to locate any traces of foreign animus that might be the source of his dream last night. He had been close to freaking out most of the day. Fortunately, he had had a respite during the oath-taking in Krallnomton this afternoon.

  It had been a pretty joyous occasion. Everyone had sworn to him—D’Orcs, orcs, humans and dwarves. That had been quite a surprise. He had assumed that it would just be the D’Orcs and the orc shamans; however, everyone in town had lined up to swear their allegiance.

  In retrospect, he probably should not have been surprised. Nysegard was an incredibly dangerous place for the living. It followed that it was a highly militaristic and feudal society, with a strong chain of command and fierce loyalty. In many ways, seeing humans, in particular, kneeling before him had driven the surreality of his situation home. It was one thing to be the leader of giant warlike D’Orcs and a motley demon army; that was something that didn’t quite seem real. Even though he was sure that he was not dreaming, having a fantasy army of demons and D’Orcs allowed him, on some subconscious level, to disassociate his current life from his past life on Earth.

  But seeing human warriors and children physically swearing to him? That was a tie to Edwyrd and the week he had spent almost feeling normal again. In retrospect, even though he had not thought of it that way at the time in Freehold, Edwyrd had felt like the old Tom, just living at a really wacky Renaissance festival.