by J. Langland
Beragamos was silent for a moment. “I will admit it is suspicious timing.”
Darg-Krallnom shook his head. “We have known each other for nearly forty thousand years, worked together many times. You know my opinion of coincidence.”
Beragamos got a sour look on his face. “Clearly, once this is over, this must be investigated.” The archon looked at Tom. “Understand, it was never Tiernon’s intention that Sentir Fallon kill you or your people permanently. He only wanted Sentir Fallon to preserve Etterdam. Your war with Nét was destroying the planet.”
Darg-Krallnom looked at Beragamos very oddly. “Then perhaps he should have tasked Sentir Fallon with driving Nét from the plane instead?”
Tom said, “Again, we will deal with this after the Storm Lords are defeated.”
Beragamos and Darg-Krallnom both nodded.
Tom noted that Grob Darkness Slayer seemed relieved by his pronouncement. He could certainly understand why. One didn’t want one’s two strongest allies at each other’s throats. He turned to Beragamos again. “What have you set up to get your people to the Outer Planes should they be killed?” he asked. That had been his number one concern about coming to the Citadel.
“We have nothing. We have no idea what to do about that,” Rasmeth said.
“When your people die, what links do they follow?” Tom asked.
“Their souls can take any link they have that will get them to their respective Outer Plane,” Beragamos answered. “But, obviously, there are no links at the moment.”
“So why haven’t you sent avatars outside the interdiction and made sure everyone has links that pass through those avatars?” Tom asked.
All the avatars not concentrating on processing mana stared at Tom in surprise. He looked back at them, puzzled why they were shocked by this. “Yes, you could use those same avatars to channel mana streams from the god pools to priests within the interdiction,” Tom said.
“A relay avatar!” Beragamos said.
“Yes. That’s essentially what I’m doing, only I am using the Doom of Nysegard as the relay. You would need to use avatars. They wouldn’t be able to channel as much, but it would be better than this,” Tom said.
“That is brilliant! I can’t believe we did not think of that,” Aeris said. At least Tom was pretty sure that’s who the woman was. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the new people he had just met.
“How do we know where the interdiction ends?” Asferóth, the winged Arch-Diocate of Krinna asked. Tom had originally mistaken him as an avatar; he certainly looked like a very colorful and majestic angel.
“Wait!” Karis, who was standing behind Grob Darkness Slayer, interjected. “Lord Orcus? Couldn’t they just use your runic gateway to go to the Isle of Doom? We already know that is outside the interdiction!”
Beragamos looked to Tom and then to Darg-Krallnom.
Tom sighed. “I am sure you understand why we are leery of this idea?” he asked the archon.
Beragamos nodded. “I swear by my immortal soul that we shall do nothing to sabotage the Doom of Nysegard, nor Mount Doom, even after the battle is complete. I so swear on behalf of the Five Siblings.”
Darg-Krallnom nearly glared at the archon. “We shall hold you to that.”
“Actually, Darg-Krallnom, we do not need to, remember?” Tom said with a tight grin. “I have Hephaestus, also known as pTah, and his wife Sekhmekt guarding the Doom of Nysegard, along with an army of their avatars. The rest of their pantheon is available within minutes.” He looked at Beragamos. “As you probably know, the Nyjyr Ennead want nothing more than to tear down Tierhallon, along with all of the Five Siblings’ Outer Planes.”
Hilda, the heavyset saint who had been chasing Talarius, looked up from her concentration on mana processing towards him. “You are working with Bastet and her people?”
“All of them.” Tom nodded. “We were both wronged, betrayed, by the Five Siblings.”
Beragamos closed his eyes. Hilda looked to Beragamos, apparently seeking the truth of the matter.
“Is it true?” Talarius suddenly demanded of Beragamos.
Beragamos opened his eyes to meet Talarius’s. “Is what true?”
“Sekhmekt shared a vision, mortal memories, of what happened in Natoor, in the city of Memphis. Her vision showed the Rod and Rangers ravaging and terrorizing the city, conversion by force,” Talarius stated angrily. “Doing things that are clearly in violation of everything the Church and Rod stand for. She said this happened all over Natoor and Najaar.”
Beragamos sighed. “There were issues with that venture. Oversight was not what it should have been. The Siblings have been working to correct what occurred there. The attending archon was transferred out; a new one brought in shortly after that.”
Talarius had a look of complete horror and revulsion on his face.
Tom shook his head and asked, “Who was the attending archon?”
Beragamos looked at him sidelong and grimaced. “I take it you know?”
Tom did not know, but he had a pretty good hunch. “Based on what you have told me, I can make a guess.”
Talarius looked at him, puzzled.
Sir Stainsberry asked, “Sentir Fallon?”
Beragamos nodded quietly.
“If I were to believe what you said about Tiernon not intending his treachery, that Sentir Fallon acted on his own both times, then I would suggest that Tiernon has seriously failed as a god of Justice,” Tom said coldly. He was actually more than a little surprised at how angry he was feeling at the moment. The horrors of this Sentir Fallon were old, well before Tom’s time, but for some reason he found himself taking all of this personally.
Inethya, the Prophetess of Tiernon on Nysegard, spoke up. “Even before Sentir Fallon was promoted to the role of Elder Archon of the Localverse, while he was Attendant Archon for Astlan, he had been advocating for a decreased ground game on Nysegard. He is the one primarily responsible for the reduction in the number of saints joining battle here.”
“Actually, we had to go over his head to Beragamos to get permission to be here for this battle,” Dashgar admitted.
Beragamos sighed, closing his eyes again for several moments as the tension around the table simmered and no one spoke. “As Lord Orcus has said, such issues are for another day. I assure you that all of this will be brought before Tiernon as soon as this war is over. Let us focus on winning one battle at a time,” he said upon opening his eyes.
Citadel of Light, Tower Balcony: Early Fifth Period
Talarius stood observing the obscenely large army of the dead surrounding the Citadel. He was on a balcony down the hall from the Command Center. He shook his head; this was his first true view of the Citadel as a whole. It certainly lived up to its name. He had never seen, nor even imagined, a man-made fortress on this scale. It was quite daunting. As was the Unlife army arrayed around the mighty fortress.
It was very difficult to get an accurate count of the bewildering number of Unlife arrayed before him, both on the ground and in the sky. But if the keep had nearly a quarter of a million people holed up in the bowels of this fortress-city, then there had to be nearly the same number of Unlife on the field and in the air. These were mind-boggling numbers. How did one defeat an army that size? How did one raise an army of that size? How many necromancers did they have?
Talarius shook his head. He had feared that a battle in Nysegard would not be enough to take his mind off his internal turmoil. The ridiculously insane battle before them could actually work. It would, however, have been better if that infernal—hah!—archon of Tiernon, Beragamos Antidellas, had not essentially confirmed everything the demon and his god friends had told him.
Talarius felt his fury returning. His entire life had been predicated upon a lie! The sacred Church and Rod had committed atrocities beyond imagination. Hypocrisy was not a strong enough word for the self-delusion of his Church. Beragamos, while not admitting that Tiernon and Orcus were stepbrothers, admitted that
they had worked together as allies. Even Orcus’s right-hand man—or D’Orc, Darg-Krallnom, knew Beragamos.
He had never been so grateful to be in his plate armor. Its rigidity had only barely been able to keep him upright during these revelations. He closed his eyes, breathing in the late-afternoon air, trying to clear his mind. How could the Church have committed these atrocities? Not only upon the worshipers of the Nyjyr Ennead, but upon the forces of their ally, Tiernon’s stepbrother? How could his god, Tiernon, ignore the perfidy of this Sentir Fallon?
Ruiden spoke in his mind. Humans, and apparently deities are often oblivious to their own sins.
Talarius chuckled. I don’t believe a human could be as blind as Tiernon, he replied.
Well, I hate to point it out, but you were walking around with a soul-sucking dagger. Pretty sure that was also against Church doctrine and policy.
Talarius’s eyes went wide. Ruiden was absolutely correct! I did not know at the time it was an Unlife dagger!
Nor, admittedly, did I, Ruiden said. I am actually surprised that I was never able to sense the Unlife in it. All I felt was Tiernon’s magic and aura.
So what I did, I did unknowingly, Talarius responded.
However, if you think back to the times you used it, there were, in retrospect, some signs, Ruiden said thoughtfully.
Talarius shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth to block out such thoughts, memories that perhaps should have given him pause, should have allowed him to see what was going on. But he had been blind to them; at the time he didn’t see the signs. Now, in hindsight, it should have been obvious. Even as he’d been blind to his own lack of honor in fighting Tom.
His lack of honor in dealing with Melissance! Oh, gods! How could I possibly have thought Melissance had chosen Unlife? Talarius suddenly realized in horror. She had insisted on her innocence, but for whatever reason—reasoning that now, today, seemed completely insane—he and his fellow knights had turned their back on her and her flock! He fell to his knees with a crash, resting his head on the backs of his hands as he grasped the stone balustrade of the balcony.
I was so blind. So stupid! How could I have been so unknowing? Talarius cried to Ruiden.
Perhaps Tiernon did what he did unknowingly? Ruiden suggested. Perhaps he suspected Sentir Fallon, someone he has to have known for thousands upon thousands of years, but could never prove it? Perhaps the same things that blinded you to your own failings blinded Tiernon to Sentir Fallon’s.
Talarius shook his head. He is a god! He is my god. I hold him to a higher standard—that’s one of the core reasons to worship a god! They are ideals, bastions of the perfect! They are not supposed to be fallible, not like mortals.
Well... Ruiden said. Talarius was certain by the mental tone of the sword that he was not going to like the rest of the sentence. You’ve now met three gods—Sekhmekt, Hephaestus and Orcus—as well as any number of avatars, including the D’Orcs. And then there is my father, who is immortal, if not a god. Do you believe any of these individuals is infallible?
Talarius chuckled mirthlessly. Hardly. They are no different than the mortals they seek to rule! They are not perfect, nor ideal. They are just older and more jaded, yet for all their age they make mistakes!
So why would you expect Tiernon, or any of the Siblings, to be any different? Ruiden asked.
Because Tiernon is my god! Talarius shouted angrily in his mind at his sword. I have put my absolute trust in him. His design brought Excrathadorus Mortis into my possession, a soul-eating blade! How many have died permanently at my hand because of this?
As I understand it, the blade was the doing of Sentir Fallon, not Tiernon, Ruiden argued. Perhaps you should be angry with him. Enough others seem to be.
“No. I need to start accepting responsibility for my own choices, my own actions,” Talarius said out loud to his sword. Fortunately, he was alone on the balcony. “Sentir Fallon may have created the blade, but I took it. Perhaps he or the blade blinded my sight, but it was my actions that damned Melissance to her fate. If we live through this, I must make atonement. I must find and rescue Melissance from the foul fiend that took her soul!”
Citadel Battlements: An Hour Before Atunset
Hilda breathed in the fresh air as she surveyed the dark host surrounding the walls of the mighty fortress. It felt like a fortress had been lifted from her shoulders. Both Beragamos and Dashgar had gone to the Isle of Doom with Orcus, as had the other attending archons. Once they were there, all of her links, her illumination streams, had been restored, rerouted through Beragamos. She could once more bask in the light of Tiernon.
She did not, however, envy Beragamos and the attending archons. They would have their proverbial hands full channeling everything through themselves. They would once more be able to hand off links to the avatars’ HALOs; however, all of those links would have to run through them, both uplinks and downlinks. They would have the assistance of their HALOs, but they themselves had to linked to the avatars in the Citadel. Their HALOs could not handle that due to the interdiction.
She assumed, or rather hoped, that Beragamos and the attending archons would be able to bring more avatars to Nysegard to share the load. However, given the bureaucracy, and the fact they couldn’t go to the Outer Planes without breaking the links to the Citadel to drag avatars down here, she expected it would take a few more hours before full power was restored to the priests, especially those of the other Siblings.
Of course, with this small, momentary break, she could think about the mind-numbing conclusion to her mission. This was not at all what she had envisioned; not in a hundred million years. To be honest, she had been so preoccupied with her links that she hadn’t been able to fully process what had been said. What had registered made no sense. She desperately wanted to have a meeting with the local team still here—Stevos, Timbly, Teragdor, Rasmeth and Inethya—and go over what had been said. Teragdor and Rasmeth, in particular, would have understood the details better than she had been able to follow. So much of what she thought she had heard could not conceivably be correct; that’s why she needed to corroborate with the others. At a minimum, they needed to get their story straight and get some answers from Beragamos.
Beragamos knew Orcus! Hilda shook her head. That one D’Orc had even claimed to have worked with Beragamos in the past. How in Tierhallon could that possibly be? And why had Beragamos never mentioned that he knew the demon they were chasing personally?
A demon that Sentir Fallon had slain? Did Sentir Fallon know that Beragamos had worked with Orcus and his D’Orcs? Was that why Beragamos had said nothing? Hilda’s jaw suddenly dropped. She was suddenly remembering Orcus and his big D’Orc saying that Sentir Fallon had conspired with Lilith, the Queen of Demons, to defeat Orcus!
Hilda put her head in her hands. Saints did not normally get headaches, or at least not very often, but it certainly felt like one was coming on. Sweet Lord Tiernon, do I ever need a drink! she thought to herself, chuckling at the thought. Thankfully, it was impossible for a saint to be physically addicted to alcohol, but the act of drinking—the taste, the smell of the wine—that was what relaxed her, allowed her to be objective, to look at the big picture, and that is what she needed now.
She took a deep breath and tried some calming exercises. She needed to focus. At the moment, the abrupt culmination of her mission had yielded more questions, more confusion than she had started the mission with. If she took time to follow the logic of the conversation in the command center, her world would be on very shaky ground. There was a battle at hand. Now was not the time for questions; now was the time for action.
Hilda gritted her teeth, resolutely trying to smile. The most important thing to keep in mind was that she had the opportunity to put her questions and uncertainty to the side and do what she’d been wanting to do since arriving in Nysegard. She was going to go kick some vampires in the fangs! She would don her Saintly Plate Armor and go forth to wreak Holy Havoc among the Unlife. Her blows agains
t the Unlife would, hopefully, act as blows against her own uncertainties and anxieties.
Tierhallon
Tiernon was reviewing the latest reports from Nysegard when Beragamos’s link suddenly came back online. He had actually been shocked when the Supreme Archon’s link had first disappeared; he had noticed that well before Sentir Fallon had reported the outage.
Beragamos? Tiernon sent down the link. He very rarely communicated this way with anyone, but the urgency of the situation dictated a change of protocol.
One moment, my lord, I must reshuffle a good number of links, Beragamos said. Tiernon was not completely sure what Beragamos was speaking about; however, he could imagine that with so many links cut, Beragamos was busy restoring them.
It took several minutes but eventually Beragamos responded. Apologies, my lord, but Dashgar and I are relaying all the links from Inethya, Hilda, Stevos and all of our priests in the Citadel; it’s a bit complicated to get the routing reset properly, Beragamos said.
So you are not at the Citadel? Tiernon asked.
No. We and the attending archons of the other Siblings are on the Isle of Doom, Beragamos replied to Tiernon’s immense shock.
The Isle of Doom? With the demon? Tiernon asked.
Yes. After we were cut off, the vicar general had his people contact the Isle of Doom. They did not know that the demon had reactivated the Doom of Nysegard, so had not been expecting any immediate help. However, this afternoon, Orcus, Darg-Krallnom, Targh Bowelsplitter, Talarius and a Knight Magus of the El Ohîm came through.
A Knight Magus of the El Ohîm? Tiernon closed his eyes wearily. So Orcus had involved the Tribunal,. They had tried so hard to keep them out of all of this.
Yes. Although he has remained silent on any of the issues, I would expect him to bring them up if he were here on Tribunal business, Beragamos replied.