03- The Apostles of Doom

by J. Langland

  True, Lilith had never had good relations with Orcus, but Tom was not Orcus. Having known Orcus and having met Tom, he was sure of that. Yes, there might be some similarities, including physical appearance; however, Tom was way too relaxed, too casual, too completely insufficiently paranoid to be Orcus. Actually, way too un-paranoid to even be a demon prince, Sam reflected.

  However, this little freezing trick clearly demonstrated that Tom was a peer. The most burning question being, where had he come from? Had he been hiding out in the hinterlands? There were numerous rogue demon princes and their followers out there; but he was fairly certain he knew of most of them.

  Tom, on the other hand, had suddenly appeared no more than two Court months ago, and started really shaking things up in the last few weeks. Sammael rotated to look at the smoking volcano cone. Unless Tom had been hiding here at Doom, preparing the D’Orcs and the volcano until he was ready to reveal himself. From what he gathered, Doom had only restarted a few days ago. How it had restarted was a mystery, but Sammael certainly recognized the mace that Tom was wielding. That would be key, he was sure.

  No one knew what had happened to the Wand of Orcus after the avatar of Tiernon had slain the demon prince. The general assumption was that it had been taken to Tierhallon. However, the probability of a rogue demon prince from the hinterlands being able to sneak into Tierhallon and retrieve the Wand of Orcus seemed a bit too far-fetched.

  Sammael’s eyes narrowed in thought. It was interesting how Lilith had managed to learn about Mount Doom restarting and get two thousand-plus demons and a Chaos Maelstrom together so quickly. He’d had no clue that the volcano had restarted until he’d talked to Lilith’s toady at Hellsprings Eternal.

  Of course, he had not been giving his full attention to things in the Abyss; his never-ending battle with the Demiurge continued to occupy way too much of his time. One had to wonder if it was worth the battle for such a mana-depleted set of worlds. It was however, enjoyable, a pleasing way to pass the millennia. The low-mana environment meant he and his agents had to use human proxies and had to rely on subterfuge and misdirection a great deal more than usual.

  He shook his head. That was neither here nor there; the problem at hand was that Mount Doom was awake and the balance of power in the Abyss was preparing to shift. He looked back to the battlefield. The D’Orcs had pulled back from Lilith’s embattled demons. They were now surrounding the very battered demons, rather than being mixed among them. Sammael shook his head. The demons did not seem to be regenerating very well. It appeared that Tom was somehow draining excess mana out of the region, which would impede regeneration.

  Mount Doom

  Lesteroth arched his aching back; he had finally been able to get Bellyachus’s head removed from the demon’s rear end. It had been rather disgusting, truth be told, but poor Bellyachus was in such pain—his horns going in and out had been rather damaging. The worst part was that regeneration didn’t seem to be working too well, so they were all just standing there dripping blood and demon goo, vainly trying to reattach their limbs as the D’Orcs disengaged and moved to surround them.

  He had no idea what was about to happen, but the fact that they were not regenerating was not a good sign. Lesteroth’s stomach twisted with anxiety. At least Bellyachus was so focused on his excruciating pain that he did not have time to worry about his likely nonexistent future.

  From the front of the demons, behind the heavily armored and armed D’Orcs now surrounding them, a large figure rose. Lesteroth was not quite sure if the demon was standing up from a kneeling position or growing. He recognized him as the demon that had frozen the Abyss; he was very much your classical-style demon. Insanely huge human muscles on the upper torso and arms; spiky, scaly goat legs; nasty spade tail; giant bat wings. Monstrous black horns and wickedly long claws. Pretty much your classic demon pretty boy. Some demons have all the luck! Lesteroth cursed to himself. The guy was like demonic perfection.

  “Servants of the Jilted Bride!” the demon shouted. Half the army—or half of those still capable—hissed at that statement, not so much from anger as from fear. The Jilted Bride was the NEVER-spoken name of Lilith. Well, not actually a name; more of a title, in fact, or an epithet. There was no better way to guarantee one’s own horrible, terrible, unpleasant death than to use that title.

  “I am Lord Tommus, Master of Doom,” the demon thundered. “You are in my domain!”

  Yeah, the ice and snow have made that rather obvious, Lesteroth thought to himself. Being snarky in his last few moments of life was the only comfort he had left.

  “Therefore, your lives and souls are forfeit to me!”

  The demons moaned at this. Several soldiers tried to rail against the demon lord, but by and large they did not have the energy. They were too exhausted, too wounded. They all knew they were dead.

  “As far as I am concerned at this moment, you are all dead!” the demon thundered.

  Lesteroth felt his stomach curl as he braced himself for the D’Orc charge that was about to come.

  “And I, Tommus, am Lord of the Dead in the Abyss! Thus my word is law!” the demon thundered again.

  This guy was rambling a lot for a general. Obviously, he had been to Dark Overlord School. If only there was a hero around who could slay him while he pontificated. Lesteroth shook his head. He was scared, dark lord snark or not. This stupid diatribe did serve to prolong his final anxiety before his eternal demise.

  “Since I control all, by my grace I shall give you each four choices!” the Dark Lord Tommus shouted.

  Four choices? What, die fighting, die lying down, or die standing up? Hmm, what’s the fourth? Lesteroth wondered.

  “My warriors will open a corridor behind you. You have my word that if you enter that corridor, you may return to Lilith and report your failure,” the demon lord stated. That caused quite a few murmurs. Of course, no one was going to take that option, but it would prolong one’s life so that one could be horribly tortured.

  “Alternatively, you do not have to return to Lilith; you can simply make your way in the Abyss. You may not return to Doom’s Redoubt, however. I own that now.”

  He would let them just go? Let them wander off into the Abyss? Lesteroth shrugged. That was an option, at least until Lilith’s people tracked them down and took them in for torture. Could take several years, maybe a century.

  “Third,” the demon lord proclaimed, “you may stay where you are and my warriors will chop you up into smaller pieces. As you can see, you are not regenerating at the moment. We will spend considerable time chopping your corpses into bite-sized pieces, let you rot for a small eternity, and then the storms will return to send your bits to the far ends of the Abyss. This is the option you came in with. Death at our hands. Death at the hands of those you have harassed for four thousand years!”

  “Finally...” The demon lord paused for a moment. “You may lay down your weapons and swear eternal allegiance to me and accept my binding.” Lesteroth shook his head. He could not have heard that right. “You will swear allegiance to me, you will put aside all past grievances with my people. You will join my army. In return, you can regenerate and you will be protected from Lilith and given a place to live that’s better than a cave or Lilith’s dungeon.”

  That really shook things up.

  “How can we trust you?” Darflow asked loud enough for all his demons to hear.

  The demon lord shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter; the default is that we finish killing you all here and now. So how would taking any of my options be worse?” He gestured to the D’Orcs in the rear.

  Lesteroth could not see, but from the murmurs, he assumed they were opening the corridor.

  “Any of you want to leave? Go now. The rest will see that I allow their comrades to leave,” the dark lord said.

  No one moved for some time, and then slowly one or two demons began moving towards the exit. One demon—Forwith, Lesteroth thought—began marching down the tunnel the D’Orcs
had opened. He got to the end and looked back, rather incredulous that no one had stopped him. He turned back and launched himself into the air.

  “Now is when the lightning bolt comes down and blasts him out of the sky,” Bellyachus whispered, apparently now paying attention. Lesteroth nodded and Talgorf chuckled nervously. However, nothing happened. The demon simply flew off.

  After a few moments of continued silence, a few more began to depart. They left, one after the other, walking to the end of the tunnel and launching themselves into the sky. None was struck from the sky. None was pursued. It was very odd. This Dark Lord Tommus was actually allowing demons to escape!

  At this point, demons began leaving in twos and threes. All departed successfully. Finally, no more were left. Lesteroth had counted over three hundred demons leaving, the majority being the reinforcements that had arrived right before battle.

  Lesteroth wasn’t about to leave. He was not going to risk Lilith. He was not going to volunteer to die either. It was pretty much a no-brainer. It was doubtful this dark lord could be worse than his own current dark queen.

  When it appeared that no more were leaving, the dark lord nodded. “Very well. Those willing to swear to me, kneel. Those who wish to die, please remain standing so we can shoot you.”

  Demons quickly began to kneel. They all kneeled. That was not a big surprise. Lesteroth was sure many were just playing a game, although why you would do that when you could just walk away did not make much sense. He suddenly realized that Darflow was still standing.

  “Darflow, kneel!” Lesteroth hissed at his commander.

  The dark lord turned his gaze on Darflow, sizing him up. “You are the commander of these men?”

  “I am.”

  “And you will not kneel?”

  “My lord, I may not.”

  “Why? Are your knees broken?” the dark lord asked.

  Not an unreasonable question, Lesteroth reflected, looking around at his comrades. He wondered how many demons missing wings or legs might have been forced to stay due to immobility.

  “No, my lord.” Darflow smiled grimly. “But as a commander who has failed his queen, I must accept the consequences, as much as I might not wish to. Honor demands it.”

  Several D’Orcs were nodding at this. It was a technical point of honor. Not something most demons were familiar with.

  “What is your name?” the demon lord asked.

  “Darflow Skragnarth, milord.” The greater demon sighed.

  The dark lord nodded and seemed lost in thought. “You are a commander, a leader, yes?”

  “I am, my lord.”

  The dark lord nodded. “Have you sworn an oath with your demons to lead them and to protect them, even as they protect you? Do you have any responsibility to or for your soldiers?”

  Darflow looked puzzled by the question. “Of course. They swear their loyalty to me, and in return I lead and guide them, and protect them as I can.”

  “Which you have done today.”

  “Well, I have led them, but perhaps not wisely.”

  “But you do have such an obligation, yes?”

  “I do, my lord.” Darflow nodded.

  “This oath you cannot break to your queen? Was it a similar oath of loyalty to that which your demons swore to you?” the dark lord asked.

  “It was.”

  “And she ordered you here today to fight us?”

  “She did.”

  “Did she lead you here?”

  “Clearly not, my lord.” Darflow gestured around him.

  “Did she have any idea what you faced here today?”

  “I cannot say, my lord. However, she is quite wise. I would think she did.”

  The dark lord nodded. “So she sent you to die, hoping that you could take out as many of us as possible.”

  Darflow shrugged at the obvious. “I suspect that she thought the Knights of Chaos might tip the balance.” He gestured to the region where the knights had been.

  The demon lord grinned. “Were you protecting her, here today, by attacking us?” he asked.

  “I suppose one could argue that,” Darflow said.

  “So you believe we are an imminent threat to her, or she does.”

  “My lord, I am not privy to her thinking. I know that your people were once considered a threat, or at least a rival to her. I know she fears similar in the future,” the demon commander replied.

  “Given that she sent you here, essentially on a death march, throwing your lives away in the hopes of doing some minimal damage to me and mine, do you think she upheld her side of her oath to you?”

  Darflow was silent thinking on that. “Perhaps not, but I am not in a position to judge her on this.”

  “Why not? It was the oath the two of you swore; who else but you should judge whether or not she was true to you?”

  Lesteroth nodded to himself. This guy was a true demon lord. This was true demonizing logic if he had ever heard it. He was nearly as twisty as Asmodeus.

  Darflow shook his head. “I know where you are going, my lord.”

  “Do you? I am more interested in the oath you swore to your soldiers. You say you are a demon of honor. If so, then you are required to hold your oath to your soldiers as much as your oath to your queen.” The demon lord shifted his stance to stare slightly more intimidatingly at Darflow, or so it seemed to Lesteroth.

  “Your men are kneeling, prepared to accept my offer. However, if they come to me, they will have no senior commander. Yes, they may have cohort leaders or division leaders. However, they will not have their senior sworn officer, their overall leader to whom they have sworn. Is it not your duty to join them to ensure that I keep my side of the deal? Is it not your duty, on behalf of your soldiers, to ensure that I treat them fairly? That I do not simply feed them to the D’Wargs?”

  The D’Wargs started yipping in excitement at this point, causing more than a few worried glances in their direction.

  Darflow gritted his teeth. “I suppose it is, but I have my duty to my queen.”

  “The queen who betrayed her oath to you? Who sent you and your soldiers to certain death? Death that even she knew was certain. And all simply to annoy a rival?” The dark lord shook his head sadly.

  “It seems to me, Darflow, that you would be better honoring your oath to these soldiers, than your oath to your oath-breaking queen.” The demon tilted his head and simply stared at Darflow.

  Darflow shook his head in frustration, and then stared directly back into the demon lord’s eyes.

  “Come, Darflow. Hold me to my word. Force me to treat your soldiers the way you would have them treated, not the way Lilith would treat them. Hold me to the oaths I swear to them.” The demon lord shook his head. “These brave demons followed you to certain death today. You ordered them, and they followed you. They upheld their oath to you. How can you do less for them?” He went silent.

  The two armies were both silent for several minutes. Darflow had closed his eyes. He opened them at last, shook his head. “You will honor your word, D’Orc Lord.” Their commander knelt before the Dark Lord Tommus.

  Chapter 117

  Murgatroy: Several hours earlier, DOA + 1, Shortly After Lunch

  Jenn and Hilda stared after the running metal man that had just left them abruptly shouting something about a portal and finding someone.

  Jenn turned back to Hilda. “Who was that?” she asked the healer.

  “His name is Ruiden. He’s a metal golem that belongs—I guess that’s the word—to the knight Talarius,” Hilda replied, frowning in thought as she looked off after the sword.

  “A knight of Tiernon owns a metal golem?” Jenn asked, puzzled.

  A young man dressed something like a ranger said, “Well, technically, Ruiden is Talarius’s sword. He simply turned himself into a golem so that he could hunt for his owner.”

  Jenn shook her head; that explanation made absolutely no sense. Neither, however, did Hilda’s presence here, thousands of leagues from
Freehold. How had she gotten here so quickly? The Nimbus was the fastest ship Jenn knew of. Teleportation could not transport people these distances; even a runic gateway would be hard-pressed to span this sort of distance.

  “How are you here? Why are you here?” Jenn asked, turning back to Hilda.

  Hilda turned to look at Jenn and after a brief moment, smiled brightly. “Ah, my dear, quite simple really.” She did not say anything more for a moment, and Jenn wondered if the healer was trying to think up an excuse. Jenn simply stared questioningly at her.

  Hilda nodded. “Yes, quite simple, really. This”—she gestured to an older man beside her—“is my grandfather, Gamos. He is a Voyager and wanted some assistance, so he brought me here.”

  “A Voyager?” Jenn asked. She had no idea what that was.

  “Yes, my child,” Gamos said, extending his hand to Jenn in greeting. Jenn shook it, looking at him and waiting for an explanation. “A Voyager is an animage that specializes in travel, both within and between planes of existence. As such, with sufficient training and practice, we can traverse vast distances within moments.”

  Jenn shook her head slightly. “Okay, never heard of those, but then I’d never met an animage until a few weeks ago, and now I know four of them. I guess it makes sense that the talent runs in the family.”

  Gamos smiled and nodded in agreement.

  “So why then are you all here?” Jenn asked.

  Gamos glanced to Hilda and then back to Jenn. “Stevos and Teragdor here”—he gestured to the young man and the half-orc—“alerted me to the arrival of D’Orcs here in Murgatroy. Concerned that maleficence might be afoot, specifically a raid or invasion, I thought it best to pick up a healer en route. Thus I stopped in Freehold and asked Hilda to accompany me.”

  Jenn nodded but said nothing for a moment, digesting this. In essence, they were here for the same reason Jenn and the Grove people were; both had had the same concerns about a raid and dead people. “Well, that makes sense,” she finally said.