Apostles of Doom

“If so,” Jenn countered, “then why are they making it? Their adults are all centuries old, their leaders even older. Surely they would realize this?”

Elrose twisted around as well, from where he was sitting next to Maelen. “Age is not necessarily synonymous with wisdom.”

Maelen chuckled. “Indeed; there are a lot of us old fools running around out there!” He waved his arm at the world below them.

“But more seriously, what we are following in all of this are premonitions and visions,” Elrose told them. “By definition, that means supernatural forces are at play. Which in turn means that things are happening that we do not know about.”

“Supernatural forces?” Jenn shook his head. “What is that supposed to mean? Ghosts? Undead?”

“We know the Storm Lords are active,” Gastropé said. “But those are normal enemies of the Grove.”

Maelen chuckled. “No sign of that at this time.” He shook his head. “Elrose means forces, as in beings and influences from outside the natural world, the Planes of Man. Divine influence, prophecy — things like that may be influencing people’s otherwise rational decisions.”

Elrose had gone still, staring off into the distance, shortly after Jenn mentioned the undead. Gastropé noticed first, and then the others when they noticed Gastropé staring at Elrose.

“Elrose?” Jenn asked. The sorcerer said nothing.

“I think he’s having a vision,” Maelen said softly, or relatively softly, on the windy carpet.

“I didn’t think sorcerers had random visions, like seers,” Gastropé said. “I thought they had to cast a spell.”

Maelen shook his head. “Only those who do not work in the field routinely; very experienced sorcerers who work extensively with the time streams and portents can have what are called flash-forwards. Very much like a seer.”

Suddenly, Elrose blinked and then frowned, his brow furrowing with concern. He shook his head, as if trying to pull himself back into the present.

“What is it?” Maelen asked.

“The word undead. It was a trigger word,” Elrose said, still seeming a bit shaken. “I flashed on a prior vision of Freehold under siege. The one where demons and gods were at play. This time, the Storm Lords were present.”

“The Storm Lords at Freehold?” Trevin had been listening in, particularly after Elrose had frozen. She, too, had twisted around. “As far as I am aware, the Council has had no significant interaction with them, ever.”

Elrose slowly shook his head from side to side. “I am sure I saw them surrounding the city. The wards were up, in demon-repelling mode, the walls lined with a combination of Council soldiers and Tiernon’s forces.”

“The Rod? Inside Freehold?” Maelen asked. “That’s a significant change.”

“Indeed,” Trevin said, frowning.

“I know, but that’s what I saw; at least, before my vision switched to someplace else.” Elrose frowned again.

“Where did it switch to?” Maelen asked.

Elrose shook his head again. “I am not sure; it was someplace I have never seen. Someplace I can’t even imagine being in Astlan. The architecture looked like nothing I have ever heard of. It was an insanely massive fortress.”

“An insanely massive fortress?” Trevin asked. “There are some good-sized fortresses in Astlan.”

Elrose once more shook his head. “Fortresses with concentric hundred-and-fifty-foot-tall stone walls, a gigantic stonework moat on three sides, and a single wall of the same height on the fourth overlooking a very steep two-hundred-foot cliff dropping to the sea?”

“Not so many.” Trevin grimaced, brow furrowing in thought.

“And this was just a feeling, something I just sort of knew, but I am pretty sure that the moat was filled with Holy Water. The place was inundated by the presence of the Five Siblings,” Elrose added.

“Okay, then,” Trevin said. “Holy Water moats are something you will likely only find on Nysegard.”

“The Storm Lords, then?” Maelen asked.

“So it would certainly seem,” Trevin agreed. “On two fronts.”

“It’s not like the playing field wasn’t crowded enough as it was,” Jenn groused.

Trevin sighed and rubbed her eyes with her right hand. “My compatriots in the Grove will have to be alerted. The Grove’s issues just got much more complicated with the Storm Lords involved.”

~

Gastropé stood nervously next to Jenn behind Trevin in the orcs’ tent. The tribe holding the alvar was called the Stone Fingers, and their chief was one Elgrida Far Eyes. Interestingly enough, this tribe of orcs seemed to respect the Grove and its flag of truce. When they had first started traveling together, Trevin had told them that a lot of what the Grove did was play intermediary.

They were not, she had assured them, diplomats so much as interlocutors. Orcs did not like diplomats, or more precisely, felt they were about as useless and spineless as lawyers. Gastropé idly wondered if they’d had any wars with Oorstemoth and how they would ever be able to settle them. Neither side seemed likely to ever simply surrender.