Apostles of Doom

“What about stuff in the pockets?” Tom asked suddenly, thinking about the things he kept in his belt and kilt.

“Well, if I have something in my pocket and the clothes fade away, then the item is lying where I left it. So I have to be careful with that. Otherwise, it’s not much different than carrying it.”

“Very interesting.” Tom said. He was going to need to try creating clothes. It would be a lot easier for Edwyrd in particular. In his true form, however, he’d stick with his real kilt. He couldn’t afford to accidentally lose his holy arrowheads. One never knew when he’d need to crack Tiernon’s runes and spells again.

Rod Camp Outside of Freehold: Mid First Period

Beragamos sighed, shaking his head. “In the last seventy-three thousand, four hundred and eighty-three years, give or take a few centuries depending on which planet we are talking about, I have done and been many things, but I swear tonight is the first time that ‘horse thief’ was one of them.” Although I can’t vouch for previous cycles, he thought to himself.

“You do know that in many places, horse thieves are hung,” Hilda commented.

“We are not stealing a horse; we are simply returning him to his rider,” Stevos said.

“Tell that to the people with the noose,” Beragamos said.

Hilda frowned. “Wasn’t Saint Espierre hung as a horse thief?”

“I think you are right — a horse thief martyr,” Stevos said.

“Yes, but it was a setup, with trumped-up charges. Which is where the martyrdom and canonization came in,” Beragamos said.

“I guess it’s good he isn’t here for this discussion,” Hilda said. “I never drink Bloody Tatianas in Tatiana’s presence. It’s just a bit rude.”

“In that case, are we going to have to avoid talking about the Unlife in front of you in Nysegard?” Stevos asked Hilda.

Hilda snorted. “Not at all. I hate those things as much today as I did at the time of my death. I am more than happy to discuss roasting them with Heavenly Heat, Light of Day or any of the two dozen or so rituals and chants that I’ve studied up on during my sainthood.”

“Sentir is very clear that he doesn’t want to lose any more saints or avatars in Nysegard,” Beragamos admonished them.

“So that means no combat?” Stevos asked.

“That’s what it sounds like to me,” Beragamos said. “It’s his localverse, and he is responsible for overall resource allotment. Besides, this is a rescue mission; a rescue from orcs and D’Orcs, not Unlife. It’s highly unlikely we’ll be there during a Storm Lord attack.”

“You do understand, you just guaranteed the opposite,” Stevos said mock sourly.

Beragamos chuckled. “I know. I know that’s the common wisdom, but trust me, after seventy-plus thousand years, I can assure you that such sayings are pure superstition.”

“I hope so,” Hilda said, grinning. “The stench of a zombie flambé running past you is enough to make you lose your appetite.”

“Ugh, that must be a truly terrible stench in that case!” Danyel piped up cheekily.

Hilda grinned widely and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “You know me too well.”

“So are we all set?” Beragamos asked.

“Timbly is in position at the Saintly gateway and has briefly tested it.” Stevos said. “I performed a number of rituals to ensure that the brief opening was not noted. Fortunately, most of the camp is now asleep.”

“All of it is, other than the sentries,” Beragamos confirmed. “I’ve drenched the place with peaceful dreams and uneventful slumber. I did, however, avoid putting the horses to sleep. I don’t want to have to drag a slumbering flying horse out of the camp.”

“And I’ve gone by each of the sentries and individually, ahem, influenced them to be watchful outside the camp rather than inwardly. And I’ll keep us wrapped in Holy Silence while we are in the camp,” Hilda said.

“Excellent. Danyel, you know where War Arrow’s barding is located?” Beragamos asked.

“I know where it was; with Sir Talarius’s equipment. However, I’ve heard that Ruiden burnt the tent down so they had to relocate things. I do, however, have an idea of the most likely places it could be,” Danyel replied.

Beragamos nodded. “Very well. That will work. Stevos, why don’t you go with Danyel to look for the barding and keep the two of you in Holy Silence; Hilda and I will look for War Arrow.”

“Sounds good.” Stevos nodded, gesturing for Danyel to lead the way.

“Fortunately, I expect it should not be too hard to locate a winged horse,” Beragamos told Hilda with a chuckle."

~

Arch-Diocate Iskerus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was time for bed. It had been a long day and an even longer night. He glanced at one of the Holy Candles of Warding before him, noting it was greatly diminished, as were the six others at each point of the Sacred Wards he had erected for his mirrorings.