Apostles of Doom

“Those we call immortal — demons, avatars, gods — have the ability to maintain their animus, or soul, without materiality. Mortals do not; not without assistance, whether arcane or divine. Thus, mortals can repackage, rebind their animus to material forms upon death. Immortals can incarnate at will, subject to mana constraints, and form material bodies or dissolve them,” Phaestus explained.

Tom shook his head. “That is heavy. I’ve got a lot to think about. I appreciate it.”

“No problem; it’s all part of the cycle.” Phaestus chuckled.

All part of the cycle? Tom worried as he left the control room. He did not like where that phrase took his thoughts. There was no way he was part of any Phoenix Cycle. He could see now that many of the others might be thinking along this line, but it was clearly impossible. Orcus’s animus had been completely drained and lost; there was no core amount of animus left to recycle.

Further, such recycling, if it had been possible, should have been done several thousand years ago. It would not be randomly happening on some far-off technology plane. Tom had not spontaneously regenerated himself on Earth. He had a completely normal mother and father. Or had had a father, as well as a stepfather. He was sure his real father, a physicist, would have laughed at such crazy spiritual nonsense.

Perhaps he would go for a flight around the volcano, get some exercise and clear his mind before the day’s council meeting. He wanted to be clear of disturbing thoughts so he could practice some more on his shapeshifting with clothes. He’d spent a couple periods last night doing this, with Antefalken’s coaching, and it would take several more nights. This clothing business was much harder than simple shapeshifting. Creating something that was you, but physically separate and materially different — that was very tricky.

Freehold, Lenamare’s Dining Room: Late Fifth Period

“I want to take this moment to thank you for such a gracious going-away dinner!” Hilda raised her glass of Amiepen 429 Toristan, one of her best reds, in a toast to Lenamare and Jehenna.

Trisfelt quickly seconded the toast. Lenamare gave a nod of appreciation and raised his glass, as did Jehenna with a polite smile.

“It was the least we could do for someone who has been so helpful to the Council,” Lenamare said.

Jehenna sipped her wine and raised one eyebrow in surprised appreciation of the wine’s excellent taste and texture. Setting it down gently, she smiled more brightly. “How long did you say you would be away?” she asked.

Hilda sighed and shook her head. “It’s a war — a siege, in fact — something we have all learned way too much about recently.” She nodded towards Lenamare in acknowledgement of the trials and tribulations he had been forced to put up with. “So I am not sure. Gamos, my grandfather, assures me that there will be very large defensive forces more than capable of repelling the siege, but one never knows. All we do know is that there will be casualties and healers will be needed.”

“Your skills were certainly well used and appreciated here,” Lenamare said, nodding pleasantly to her.

“But Nysegard?” Trisfelt asked with quite a bit of trepidation. “I am not that familiar with the world, but nothing I have heard about it is good.”

Hilda nodded. She had decided to be as honest as possible with Trisfelt and his allies; it would keep the story simpler. She had not gone into any of the details; she had, in fact, shifted some to say that it was large school of animages in need of defense, one that their own school had sworn a mutual defense pact with. The story was almost true, if you simply switched priests for animages.

The problem was that she wanted to preserve her relationships and ties to Freehold in the event this elusive demon and his cohort returned, and thus she needed a reason to explain her potentially long absence. How many alvaran weddings could she be expected to attend, particularly within a few quarter-months of each other?

“To be fair, I have not heard much good, either; however, I have it on good authority that the world is quite lacking in demons,” Hilda said with a smile. D’Orcs are another story, she thought, but she was not going to bring that up. “So I see that as a net positive.”

Lenamare chuckled and nodded. “Indeed.”

“Of course,” Jehenna said drily, “you may find yourself returning to a demon siege.”

Lenamare’s mouth ticked slightly at this rather pressing reminder.

“I know; I hope I can return beforehand to be of assistance.” Hilda shook her head. “Do you have any idea how soon the foul being may seek retribution?”