Apostles of Doom

Tom turned to look at the new painting, also life-sized. it was a picture of a man in very ornate robes embroidered with runic symbols and emblems that Tom recognized from some of Maelen’s books and papers as being tied to animages and the Society of Learned Fellows. So the man must be an animage, Tom was certain. The luxurious robes caught his attention first, but then his eyes traveled up to the man’s face.

A man in his early thirties with a short curly black beard and mustache, along with a wild mop of thick curly black hair, a pale complexion, a rather pronounced nose and bushy black eyebrows stared back at him. He looked oddly familiar.

Tamarin let out a gasp when she saw the picture. “It’s your human form, just older!” she exclaimed, causing Tom to stare at her briefly. His eyes darted back to the painting to see what she meant. He felt his heart stop and his stomach sink to his hooves. He was not sure, but he felt like his deep red complexion had suddenly turned pink, if not Gastropéan gray. Tamarin was right! It was like looking in a mirror at himself, only older!

Tom moved closer to inspect the man’s face, the eyes, the expression, the… the… he felt the world lurch as he fell over. Barely registering pain, he crashed to the ground with a loud yet seemingly distant thud as the world went blank.

Chapter 129

Tierhallon: Mid Second Period

It was a rather tame meeting this morning, Hilda reflected, sipping on her wine as Moradel recounted a rather fanciful tale from one of his first assignments. There had not been much news to report. Baysir was running late, but since he often did not attend these meetings, they had just started drinking without him. This evening, or rather morning, it was a lovely white Serclay from Etterdam that Sentir had brought.

The door opened and in burst Baysir with a bright grin on his face. “We have received a prayer from Talarius!”

Hilda blinked in surprise and leaned forward over the table, even as Sentir Fallon, who had been leaning back on the two rear legs of his chair, landed it on all fours.

“Excellent!” Moradel exclaimed.

“He has returned to Astlan?” Sentir asked excitedly. “Did that crazy joint venture locate him?”

Baysir shook his head. “No, and still no word from them.”

“So where is he that he was able to send up a prayer?” Beragamos asked.

“That was the odd thing. Saint Evicious did not recognize it at first because Talarius was not in Astlan. He is in Nysegard!” Baysir announced. A refleca glass appeared in his hand and he motioned for wine.

“Nysegard?” Sentir Fallon asked in shock, even as he began to pour the wine.

“What in the Abyss is he doing in Nysegard?” Moradel asked.

“Isn’t that an off-limits plane?” Stevos asked.

Beragamos looked uncertain and shook his head. “Not exactly off limits; more like an extreme travel advisory.”

“Nasty place. We have lost extensive resources there — including saints,” Sentir said grimly.

“Including saints?” Hilda asked in shock.

“Place is overrun with Unlife. Over the last ten thousand or so years, we’ve had to invest heavily to protect our people. That includes sending in saints to do battle,” Sentir told them.

“And they died? Permanently?” Stevos asked, looking more than a little concerned.

Beragamos also made a grim face.

“Several, yes. Perhaps one every hundred years or so, but it adds up after several millennia,” Sentir said.

“Our human forces suffered far worse; particularly after…” Beragamos trailed off, glancing toward Sentir.

“After what?” Stevos asked, puzzled.

“After I slew Orcus,” Sentir said quietly.

“How in the multiverse would killing a demon prince hurt our efforts in Nysegard?” Stevos asked, at a complete loss. Hilda shared that feeling.

Sentir grimaced. “Well, it turns out that, as they say on the plane, Nysegard makes strange bedfellows.”

“Meaning?” Hilda asked.

“Meaning that Orcus and his forces had a very large and powerful presence on Nysegard and were extremely important in keeping the Unlife in check,” Beragamos said. “When Orcus fell, so did his empire. His forces were severely weakened and were, in fact, on a back footing, fighting for bare survival for about a thousand years.”

“With Orcus gone, his threat reduced, the Storm Lords and their various allies were able to focus a lot more of their attention on us,” Moradel added. “Our losses rapidly escalated, and we were forced back into a much smaller footprint in a few large fortresses.”

“You are not saying we were allied with Orcus and his D’Orcs?” Stevos asked, aghast.

“Alliance is a strong term,” Sentir said.

“Enemy of my enemy is perhaps more accurate,” Beragamos said. “That being said, there were, and have been, times since the fall of Orcus that we have fought alongside them.”

“We fought alongside D’Orcs?” Hilda asked, shaking her head.

“D’Orcs, orcs, humans, dwarves — yes,” Sentir said. “If you can believe it, we were also joined on a few occasions by Los Alfar as well.”