Apostles of Doom

But he’s casting another spell! What do I do? Tal Gor asked, starting to once more panic.

I have seen this spell. Wizards tend to use it a lot around me, Tom chortled.

Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of purple light, spikes of light radiating outward in the cardinal directions from where the wizard had been. When the light vanished, the wizard and his hippogriff were both gone.

Tal Gor frowned. What happened?

Teleport. He who flees and runs away, lives to flee another day! Lord Tommus laughed.

What a horrible, cowardly idea! Tal Gor said, shocked. Fleeing in such a selfish manner, leaving wounded comrades behind to deal with the victors, unaided? The cowardice was mind-boggling! No wonder the alvar were so hated.

Nysegard, Krallnomton Henge: Moments Later

“Master?” Tamarin asked, concerned.

“He is somewhere else, with one of the shamans,” Vaselle said, also concerned, but not as much as Tamarin.

Tom heard them; he shook his head as if suddenly waking from an incredibly intense daydream. He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings, and held up his hand to calm his two friends so he could collect himself. He felt dizzy. He had not done anything like that in a very long time. When was the last time? Torvolg Myleanr on Romdan? He enjoyed being the teacher, showing his warlocks and shamans how to wield the power he provided them. Particularly when they were young and still so full of wonder.

Tom blinked again, coming more fully — awake, if that was the word. What had happened? What were those weird thoughts? He’d been speaking to Tal Gor, lost the signal and followed his link back to discover the shaman’s party under attack by alvar. His shaman had wanted to learn how to defend himself and his people with Fire. A key part of any shaman’s or warlock’s training; something he had done so many times. Teaching the young was one of the best perks of his mission.

Tom shook his head again, more widely this time. Tamarin and Vaselle stepped back to avoid getting gored by his horns.

He had to clear his thoughts. No, not my thoughts, HIS thoughts! Something in that situation had triggered old memories — no, foreign memories! It was so very odd. He’d been himself; he’d had memories of possessing Vaselle and sought to use the same technique with Tal Gor. Showing, teaching his student, much like teaching someone to golf by wrapping one’s arms around them and holding the club with them. Only spiritually, like a ghost doing pottery with his true love. But teaching his student things that Tom himself only barely understood — how could that be possible?

Tom’s stomach ached with anxiety. What was going on? These stupid thoughts, feelings, memories were now attacking him during the day, when he was awake. Or sort of awake. From what he’d learned from the shamans, the sort of travel where he was with someone in their mind, invisible to others, that was a variant of dream walking. That’s what he had been doing!

He had sort of assumed that it was just a term and not literally related to dreams; but now he was not so sure. If dream walking was related to dreaming, then it would make sense that he’d be susceptible to these false dream memories that had been plaguing him.

That had to be it. There could be no other possibility. Realizing this made him feel better. He’d fallen into a dreaming state, so whatever was haunting his dreams was able to reach him there. But what was it that was haunting him? He still did not know. Had Orcus somehow gone all Freddy Krueger? Looking to haunt the dreams of any teenager that moved onto Doom Street? Given that he had been unable to detect any leftover animus in the Rod, or in Doom itself, that made about as much sense as anything. The only other possibility, as he’d considered before, was Tartarus. He had mental links to that place and its experimental AII.

That made him sit up straighter. Could that be it? He was keyed to Tartarus the same way Orcus had been; what if Orcus had used the AII and left memories in it, somehow? Could the AII interface be trying to return those memories to what it thought of as their owner? That would make sense. Hell, he’d been told it was experimental! Experimental computer systems were always doing crazy shit like that. Yes — that had to be it. He needed to explore that path.

Feeling relieved, he glanced up to see Tamarin and Vaselle staring at him in grave concern. He grinned, feeling much better. Now he just needed to come up with an excuse for his very odd behavior.

Astlan, Orcan Plains: Moments Later