03- The Apostles of Doom

by J. Langland

  “I’m sorry. In no way did I intend to insult anyone, nor disrespect them. I was just trying to process the functionality of these temples. I meant no insult,” Tom said apologetically.

  “You are the Lord of Doom. You cannot insult us; your word is law. However, we are still sensitive to certain words and phrases,” Darg-Krallnom told Tom.

  Tom frowned. “Again, my apologies for the poor word choice.”

  Darg-Krallnom shook his head. “No need, my lord. It is our issue, and we realize that you did not understand what you were implying. We understand and it shall go no further than this room.” He glared at everyone in the room.

  “So, which Doomalogue is powering up first?” Tom asked, trying to change the subject.

  Arg-nargoloth nodded and gave a tight grin before turning to look at the panels behind him. “Nysegard should be the first.” He nodded after looking. “And it is.”

  “Why Nysegard?” Tom asked.

  “Because that was one of the largest Doomalogues and busiest. That place is nasteeeeee…” Tizzy said.

  “Nasty?” Tom asked, even as he saw the others nodding. What would demons and D’Orcs consider nasty?

  “Indeed, my lord. It has one of the highest populations of Unlife in the multiverse. Necromancers, liches and about any form of Unlife that you can imagine,” Arg-nargoloth answered.

  “So why visit it?” Tom asked.

  “Because there are orcs there, and other of our allies. We provided protection to our allies there. All sorts of jötunnkind, as well as humans, dwarves and many others,” Arg-nargoloth said.

  “Even a few Dok Sidhe races,” Völund added.

  “Humans, dwarves, Dok Sidhe?” Tom asked, puzzled. “Okay, so I might get the Dok Sidhe.” Tom recognized the term for the dark fairy kingdom from his reading. “But I did not know that dwarves and humans were normally aligned with orcs.”

  Darg-Krallnom shook his head in disagreement. “Dwarves are jötunnkind; they may often be estranged from us, tempted away by the cursed alfar, but they are kin. And humans? Humans are neutral; they are also rather unscrupulous and will side with whoever they think best serves their interests.”

  “Not that different from orcs,” Tizzy noted.

  Arg-nargoloth waved his fist at the octopod, threatening another punch.

  “In any event, things in Nysegard are, or were, complex,” Arg-nargoloth said. “There are different factions on different continents, all arrayed against the Unlife, all trying to survive. The alfar have their alliances, which includes some humans and dwarves as well as heartheans and gnomes, and we have ours. There is not a lot of warfare between orcs and alfar on Nysegard. Certainly there is no trust, but there are bigger enemies to deal with.”

  “So how many of these Doomalogues are there?” Tom asked.

  “At the time of the incident, there were six hundred and sixty-six,” Darg-Krallnom said.

  “Six hundred and sixty-six?” Tom asked rather incredulously.

  “Yeah, I know,” Tizzy commented. “Not a prime number, and thus not ideal. Six hundred and seventy-three were actually built, which is a prime number, but we lost a few.”

  Völund made a rude noise and Tom looked at him.

  “That cursed necromancer!” the smith said out the side of his mouth. Clearly, the man was holding a grudge.

  “Necromancer? Is this tied to Nysegard?” Tom asked.

  Arg-nargoloth shook his head. “No. Not at all, actually. Some of the Doomalogues were subverted and essentially stolen by a wizard we thought was an ally, but turned out to be a necromancer. Or rather, that is what he was calling himself in some realms. We eventually realized he wasn’t even a mortal—he, or she, was a corrupted arvokar.”

  “Damn flea-bitten corpse never did pay me for those seven rings I forged for him!” Völund cursed.

  “It was an epic betrayal,” Tizzy observed.

  “That’s when we centralized control of the Doomalogues,” Darg-Krallnom told Tom. “Prior to that, they and their elemental portals were controlled locally. After that incident we centralized control here, so when we went down, the Doomalogues also shut down. If we hadn’t done that, they could probably have stayed up and helped power us.”

  “So they have their own mana generators?” Tom asked.

  “They did,” Völund said. “The generators would have shut down without the Wand of Orcus and Mount Doom’s central control.”

  Tom shook his head. “Back to this necromancer... I can’t imagine Orcus sat still for this?”

  Tizzy chuckled evilly.

  “He did not. However, because so many of the orcs involved had been loyal to him before they were corrupted by the Unlife of this necromancer, he chose to take a different path than outright war with our former soldiers,” Darg-Krallnom said.

  “I thought it was an insane idea!” Arg-nargoloth interjected.

  “But it worked better than most anything else we’ve done. It got rid of the damn alvar!” Völund said.

  “True. It worked, and we didn’t think it would,” Arg-nargoloth conceded.

  “What did he do?” Tom asked.

  “He took a page from the playbook of Sammael and several gods; he used subterfuge and misdirection to manipulate mortal agents into defeating the necromancer,” Darg-Krallnom told Tom.

  “Very un-orc-like.” Arg-nargoloth said, sounding rather disapproving.

  “But it worked so good, the alvar thought the world was safe and got on their stupid ships and sailed off to a different plane!” Tizzy chortled.

  “First damn time we’ve ever been able to rid a plane of those vermin!” Darg-Krallnom said with a grin.

  Tom was left pondering. This story sounded oddly familiar to him. However, he was pretty certain they couldn’t mean what it sounded like they were saying.

  “I learned new respect for heartheans,” Arg-nargoloth said, chuckling. “Turns they are not just furry-footed vermin that eat all day long!”

  “Eh,” Tizzy said.

  “Eh?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Still not that fond of them. They ended up getting a friend of mine killed,” Tizzy said.

  “You had a friend there?” Arg-nargoloth asked suspiciously. “More importantly, you had a friend anywhere?”

  Tizzy sneered at him. “Yes, I had a friend! He was former hearthean, lived in this cave. We used to spend hours trying to out-riddle each other! Really pleasant conversationalist. Sure, he was a tad paranoid, but then who isn’t?”

  Tom closed his eyes. Was it too late to change his mind on whether this whole thing was real? He had been going on that assumption, but at times he really needed to question that decision. How could this possibly be his new reality? He shook his head and looked at the others. “Let’s head to the Oubliette.”

  Courts of Chaos, Exador’s Penthouse

  “So, you have news?” Bess asked Exador as she and Ramses sat down in chairs around Exador’s outdoor dining table on the patio of his Courts penthouse. Exador was pouring them Denubian Choco-CoffeeTM.

  “I do,” Exador said. He finished pouring and gestured to the fruit assortment sitting on a chilling tray.

  “From the Storm Lords?” Ramses asked.

  “Storm Lords?” Bess asked, puzzled. “You mean the ruling Unlife in Nysegard?”

  “Exactly,” Ramses nodded.

  “Indeed, they have agreed to provide us with the forces we need to take Freehold, and thus the book,” Exador said, setting the Choco-CoffeeTM pot down on the table.

  “How soon can they marshal the forces we need?” Ramses asked. Bess was looking back and forth between the two, seeming quite concerned.

  “That, I fear, is the rub.” Exador sighed, sitting back to take a drink from his own cup. “They are currently preparing a cleanup exercise against one of the larger outposts of the Forces of Light in Nysegard. Once that is finished, they will be able to re-deploy on our behalf.”

  “So we wait for them to clean it up?” Ramses asked. “Any idea h
ow long this will take?”

  “No, and it’s not exactly waiting; they’ve requested my assistance on the wizardly front,” Exador said.

  “They have hundreds, if not thousands, of wizards. The liches are wizards; why do they need you?” Ramses asked.

  Exador made a grimace. “They need assistance on certain technical aspects for certain types of wards. Apparently their previous expert turned to dust, quite literally, about a thousand years ago and some critical pieces of information were lost. They need my help in piecing it back together. I have actually been assisting them on and off for the last century, but push is now coming to shove, so to speak, as they ready their cleansing. ”

  “Wait,” Bess ordered, interrupting. “Are you saying you have been negotiating with the Storm Lords, Unlife, for the army we need to seize the book?”

  “Yes. That is what I am saying,” Exador replied, sounding quite pleased with himself.

  “You seriously want Unlife anywhere near the book?” Bess shook her head. “Are you insane?”

  Exador and Ramses both laughed.

  “They know nothing of the book,” Exador explained. “We have convinced them that Lenamare is a threat to them. After all, it was at the hands of his minions that they suffered their latest defeat!”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Bess shook her head again. “However, I am a little surprised that you think you can trust Unlife...”

  Exador grinned. “They are, I admit, unpleasant; however, we have a long-standing and mutually advantageous relationship. To date, they have always been trustworthy.”

  Bess shook her head again. “I don’t know. I do not like Unlife, and I really do not like to even think about the possibility of them getting the book.”

  Exador shrugged. “Do not worry, I have this covered. I shall be more than happy to go into detail.”

  “Please proceed then,” Bess said, gesturing at him. “I want to hear this.”

  The Cathedral of the Notorious Dame

  “Enter,” Lilith commanded as someone knocked at her study’s door.

  “Mistress?” Lilith’s senior facilitator, cron, asked hesitantly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

  “Yes, cron?” Lilith asked. cron was very old-school and incredibly detailed, and thus very sensitive to matters such as the case of his name. He always referred to himself in lowercase so as to indicate his subservience to his Mistress—who was always capitalized, even in pronouns.

  “One fears that one has an unscheduled visitor of some import demanding to converse with Thy Worshipfulness. It is a baron or perhaps a baroness; the translation was unclear, Tartibsizlik.”

  “Tartibsizlik?” Lilith said as her normally sour countenance soured further.

  “One fears so, Mistress. (S)he is awaiting thy attention in the third green room.”

  Lilith shook her head ruefully; she had been dreading this meeting for some time. She was actually surprised it had taken Chaos so long to respond.

  “Very well, you may present hir to me in audience chamber forty-two in seven deminutes,” Lilith informed her facilitator.

  ~

  Lilith settled herself in the casual throne in audience chamber forty-two. It was a chamber designed to host visitors of a distinguished, yet not peer level, rank. It was designed and laid out to project her strength, yet not be too threatening to the visitor.

  Yshmael and Erenael, two of her more militant-appearing archdemon courtiers, were sitting to either side of her in chairs, acting as if they were engaged in casual parlor conversation. They were not, of course; it was simply for pretense. Both were quite familiar with their roles in such proceedings.

  A small gong went off and the double doors to the twenty-foot-square chamber opened, admitting one of her butlers followed by Tartibsizlik. The baron(ess) was wearing hir typical-loose fitting garment. It was somewhere between a set of robes, bound at the waist and with legs that tucked into boots, and a military uniform. The color scheme varied by the deminute, flowing through a spectrum of colors and shades on a continual and seemingly random basis.

  Lilith nodded politely at the baron(ess) as (s)he approached. Hir expression was, Lilith believed, quite serious, although given that hir face, not unlike hir robes, continuously morphed into different, mostly humanoid colors, shapes, bone structures and genders, it was more than a little bit difficult to be sure what hir expression was.

  “Tartibsizlik. As always, a pleasure to see you.” Lilith smiled tightly.

  “Greetings, Mistress of the Abyss,” Tartibsizlik greeted her in return.

  “How may I be of service to the Lords of Chaos?” Lilith asked.

  “You may recall that you recently pressed upon me for the use of a Chaos Maelstrom?” Tartibsizlik asked.

  “Indeed. They seem to have encountered some difficulties,” Lilith replied carefully. “I assume by secondhand reports that they were defeated? I received no direct report.”

  “That is, perhaps, more than we received,” Tartibsizlik said.

  “Indeed?” Lilith arched an eyebrow in surprise.

  “Indeed. Two days ago, Court time, the remnant tachyon streams of seven of our knights returned to the entroposphere. The other sixteen have yet to return, and we have been unable to detect their energy signatures in the continuum.”

  Lilith grimaced. “That strikes me as unusual. I thought a knight’s energy pattern always returned to the Source?”

  “Indeed.”

  The silence was thick in the room; finally, Lilith spoke again.

  “Well, would that not imply they remain—functional?” Lilith was not sure the term “alive” applied to Knights of Chaos.

  “One should think,” Tartibsizlik said. “The only way to completely remove a knight’s signature energy pattern would be to lock it in a ground-state configuration. A full ordering at ground state would completely eliminate the original signature, even if the energy was subsequently released.”

  Lilith thought for a moment, or pretended to. Based on the reports, she was almost certain that that was exactly what had happened. “I am not sure how that would be possible. Certainly, no demon could do such a thing.” She shrugged. “Therefore, your knights must still be alive.”

  Tartibsizlik simply stared at her, hir face shifting in race and gender every half deminute or so. Finally, the baron(ess) continued. “Do you seriously think that a Knight of Chaos would remain prisoner for any length of time? It would fight to the death for its freedom and to return to the Source.”

  “So how can I help you?” Lilith asked, trying to end this standoff.

  “Who or what was the target of the Maelstrom?” Tartibsizlik asked.

  Lilith shrugged. “Mount Doom.”

  Tartibsizlik blinked in a highly unusual display of surprise. “Mount Doom? Is it not shut down?”

  “It has been relit by a demon who claims to be the heir of Orcus.”

  Tartibsizlik tilted hir robed head. “A challenger to the status quo?”

  “No,” Lilith said emphatically. “It is an attempt to reestablish an old order. This demon seeks to restore the Order of Doom. An order that these courts”—she gestured to their surroundings—“the Courts of Chaos, are dedicated to challenging.”

  Tartibsizlik stared at Lilith for several moments. S(he) was the only person Lilith had ever met—or rather, the only non-divine person she had ever met, who could behave so unnervingly in her presence. Lilith was the one who was supposed to make others uncomfortable.

  “Very well,” Tartibsizlik finally said, nodding to her. “I appreciate your assistance in this matter.”

  “As always, you are welcome.” Lilith smiled graciously.

  Tartibsizlik bowed. “I take my leave, Your Majesty.”

  “Of course,” Lilith replied. The baron(ess) turned abruptly and marched towards the doors, which quickly opened for hir at the butler’s hand wave.

  As the doors closed with a solid thud, Yshmael coughed politely
. “(S)he gives me the creeps,” the archdemon said.

  “Indeed,” Lilith replied.

  The Inferno

  The bridge had been cleared of extraneous personnel, leaving only Captain Cranshall, the bridge crew at their stations, Chancellor Alighieri, Wing Arms Master Heron and Arch-Vicar General Barabus. Currently the captain and crew were going through their very thorough set of operational checklists for launching a new aerial vessel. Once done, the captain would relay the results to Wing Arms Master Heron.

  As Barabus understood things, once Chancellor Alighieri had ceremonially turned the ship over to Captain Cranshall, the vessel was under military control and not that of the chancellery. This meant that the captain was the supreme commander of the vessel, reporting to Wing Arms Master Heron on matters of strategy and specifically, the mission. Operational command of the Inferno was Captain Cranshall’s sole province. This, Heron had told him, was in line with how their traditional aerial fleets worked.

  It was, of course, not completely different from how the Rod worked. The Rod’s ships were actually provided by the Church of Namora and manned by her fleet sailors. The Rod were essentially the chartering clients of a large part of Namora’s fleet; Torean’s Rangers chartered a large number of ships as well. The remainder of the fleet that was not chartered was used to patrol and protect the Holy Etonian Empire’s interests at sea.

  As a client, Barabus could tell fleet officers where to go and when he wanted to be there; but it was at their sole discretion as to how that was achieved. Thus, things were not dissimilar to Barabus’s role at sea; however, due to the Oorstemoth’ s more integrated forces, Heron could also order ships to attack enemy vessels. Under normal conditions, Barabus could only request such assistance. In the event of a war, as declared by the Holy Etonian Emperor, Barabus’s rank would become that of Holy Etonian Warlord, and he would have overriding command of the Rod, the Rangers, and the Fleet, as well as the Sky Wardens of Krinna and the Healers of Hendel.

  Captain Cranshall presented the checklist to Heron, who reviewed it. “I wish circumstances had allowed me to review the items on this checklist in more depth ahead of time, Captain. There are enough variations from our traditional ships that I am not completely confident of my full comprehension of the list; however, I trust that you and Chancellor Alighieri have been thorough in your preparation of this list, in accordance with all appropriate military and legal standards?” He looked at the Captain and Chancellor.