03- The Apostles of Doom Page 50

  “You have my word that I will discuss this directly with not only Inethya and Dashgar, but with Sentir Fallon himself,” Stevos said.

  “Sentir Fallon?” Arch-Diocate Verablis Tierny spoke up. “What is his role in this?” The arch-diocate did not seem particularly enthused—in fact, quite the opposite—to learn of Sentir Fallon’s role in the current situation.

  Stevos shook his head. “He is the archon in charge of our localverse. In principle, Dashgar reports to him.”

  Grob snorted angrily. “That would explain quite a bit.”

  “I’m sorry?” Stevos asked, puzzled, like Teragdor, at the seeming enmity towards the archon.

  “You do understand that life for everyone on Nysegard got immeasurably worse after he betrayed Lord Orcus upon Etterdam,” Grob said.

  “That’s the second time you referred to him as Lord Orcus,” Timbly said. “That is not the term we typically use for him, so we are a bit puzzled. He seems a bit more popular here than in Astlan.”

  All of the Nysegard commanders were looking at Timbly in surprise. Aeris spoke as if in disbelief. “Orcus? Prince of Light, Lord of Oaths and Honor, Punisher of the Damned? One of the most powerful forces for Justice in the multiverse? How do you refer to him?”

  “Uhm, well, as a demon prince?” Teragdor blurted out in shocked surprise.

  “A demon prince?” Grob asked, sounding taken aback. Multiple people who had overheard their conversation started murmuring. “Well I suppose one could infer such, given that he ruled from the Abyss. However, it was he who fought to hold Lilith and Sammael in check.”

  “And if you know your Five Siblings history, it was Orcus to whom the Siblings turned to deal with their accursed parents,” Arch-Diocate Tierny stated resolutely, as if such a thing was common knowledge.

  Stevos’ mouth dropped open as if he wanted to respond, but had no thought as to how. Teragdor glanced to Timbly, who was also staring in shock at the arch-diocate. Clearly this was information they had been unware of. Of course, Teragdor had known very little about Orcus before the saints had arrived, but the fact that two saints, one of Tiernon and the other of Torean, could be so caught off-guard by mortal members of the churches, who seemed to know more than they did, was more than a bit disconcerting.

  Astlan, Orcan Plains, Thirty-Five Leagues Southwest of Jötunnhenj: Early Fourth Period

  Tal Gor squinted at the needle-like spikes in the distance ahead of them. According to Leftenant Zargvarst, those impossibly tall spires formed the outer perimeter of Jötunnhenj. Jötunnhenj was a roughly elliptical mountainous region stretching about eighty-five leagues east to west and fifty leagues north to south. At its heart was the Doomalogue, a massive volcano that mirrored Mount Doom.

  It was surrounded by impossibly tall peaks, which in turn were surrounded by smaller mountains and then an enormous ring of massive hills and rough lands. At the edges of these were fourteen tremendous spires—spires so tall and relatively thin that they could never have formed naturally. D’Orc legend had it that Loki had imported them from the Abyss and shored them up with magic to withstand the natural forces of Astlan.

  Encircling these spires was a mighty river, whose width ranged from half a league to nearly three quarters of a league. This river was fed by a source below the Doomalogue, which flowed into four massive tributaries that radiated in the Primary Inter-Cardinal Directions to the circular river and then continued on to feed the rest of Easter Norelon.

  To the west, eight massive obelisks as tall but far wider than the spires rose to form a magical wall protecting the henge from forgotten forces that had arisen from the central desert some twenty thousand years ago. Forces that had threatened the Doomalogue before Zarvarst’s time, well before the Desolation. Such timespans caused Tal Gor’s mind to reel. If it were not for the fact that they were still over thirty leagues from the encircling river, and he could plainly see with his unaided eyes the immense Spires of Doom, he would have thought such tales and description to be pure myth.

  Tal Gore was suddenly distracted by the fact that Didar An Sep of the Fen Horde on Romdan had flown over to Zargvarst and had started pointing to various locations in the sky above them. Tal Gor looked towards the locations to which the D’Orc had been pointing, but saw nothing. Perhaps a few small specs, but that could be dust in his eyes.

  After a few moments of the two staring at various locations, and the other D’Orcs doing the same, Zargvarst moved in closer, and gestured to Lob Smasher to also close in. Once the elder had done so, Zargvarst shouted to them. “It has been a long time since I have flown over these plains, but is there any reason why riders on hippogriffs would be flying patrol over them?” he asked.

  Both Tal Gor and Lob gave him shocked expressions.

  “Hippogriffs?” Lob asked, puzzled. “As far as I know only Nuren Alvar use hippogriffs on any scale. How many are you seeing?”

  Tal Gor quickly began chanting to activate his Eagle Sight. It was one of the few chants that he was quite good at. He turned towards where a couple of the D’Orcs were focusing their attention. Sure enough, there was a patrol of six orcanoid riders on beasts with the head, wings and fore claws of a giant eagle and the hind legs of a horse. He could not make out the race of the riders nor any insignia; only their basic forms and vague colors. He did not recognize the colors as significant.

  “We have spotted four patrols in various directions,” Zargvarst replied. “We are looking in the others.”

  Lob Smasher shook his head and spat over the shoulder of his D’Warg. “Sniveling, traitorous mountain elves! They ride where they have agreed not to ride and betray their oaths! They are most likely too frightened to attack us at the moment, but they will be gathering reinforcements.”

  Zargvarst nodded. “As I suspected. We should land and fully arm ourselves.” Lob nodded, as did the rest in earshot, which for the D’Orcs would have been all of them. They had been riding in their lighter underlayer of armor, since they had not expected to be challenged in known orc territory. These plains had multiple orc tribes and they bore markers of trust from the tribal leaders at Mount Orc, which accounted for the majority of tribes in Astlan.

  Didar An Sep yelled back, “They are still few enough and far enough away that we should be secure on the ground while we’re changing. We will have plenty of warning should they try to descend on us.”

  “They would need to be abysmally stupid to attack a party with five D’Orcs and six orc warriors on D’Wargback,” Tal Gor’s brother, Bor Tal, said.

  Tal Gor suppressed the thought that the six orc warriors—his family, by and large, were rather superfluous in that assessment.

  Zargvarst looked at the young warrior skeptically. “They are elves! Intelligence and the normal rules of logic have little to do with their motives. They are cowardly, conniving, dishonorably duplicitous creatures of pure hatred and bile. Sanity is not something that factors into their decisions.”

  The Inferno: Mid Fourth Period

  “We’ve got something!” Diocate Temerlain shouted into Arch-Vicar General Barabus’s quarters. As with most passengers and crew, Barabus kept his door open to assist the Inferno’s air circulation system’s efforts to keep the ship cool.

  Barabus looked up from his notes in surprise. “You’ve spotted Talarius?”

  Diocate Temerlain nodded excitedly.

  “Where?” Barabus jumped out of his bunk.

  “Let’s go to the bridge and I can locate it on the map.” Temerlain grinned enthusiastically.

  “Excellent!” Barabus shouted.

  Gadius and Gaius poked their heads and shoulders out of their door, as did Sir Lady Serah. Barabus gestured at them to follow. They headed down the corridor.

  As they passed Heron’s quarters, Barabus stuck his head in. “We’ve got a signal!” he said.

  Heron leaped to his feet. “Indeed? This is an astoundingly amazing accomplishment; the odds are astronomical!” he exclaimed.

  They all made their
way towards the bridge. As senior leaders, they were all quartered on the same deck as the bridge, so they had no need to scuttle up or down ladders. They all filed onto the bridge, where the Captain and XO were working over the mapping table.

  “We’ve got a lock on a signal!” Temerlain told them.

  There was a clattering noise as Sir Samwell sat up straight in a chair he’d been lounging in. “You’ve detected Talarius?” he asked incredulously.

  “Well, we’ve detected a Holy Emanation of Tiernon. There is not going to be anyone else outside of the ship doing that,” Temerlain pointed out.

  Sir Samwell made an expression of… well… uncertain agreement? Barabus was not sure how to interpret the knight’s expression.

  “Where?” Captain Cranshall asked.

  “Here are the approximate direction and distance from our current location.” Temerlain handed XO Stevensword a small piece of paper. The XO tapped some buttons on the edge of the map table and a green dot appeared on the map, which was currently set to the scanning range of the Inferno, with the Inferno being a red dot in the center.

  “Near the edge of our range,” CSO Halferth noted.

  “Did we not scan that region in one of our earliest sets?” Captain Cranshall asked.

  Halferth’s brow furrowed in thought, and then he grimaced. “It would have been at the outer range. We are trying to do have some overlap.”

  Sir Samwell had been staring at the dot, his brow also furrowed. “I think that must be a false positive. There is nothing there—no fortress, no city, no volcano.”

  “You seem to know your Abyssal geography,” Gaius commented somewhat sarcastically.

  “You spend enough time being chased by demons, you get a pretty good idea of hiding places. There really is nothing there, or at least there should be nothing there. I would find it very odd if your demon was held up there,” Sir Samwell stated, ignoring the sarcasm. To Barabus, he seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “Well, what else do we have to do here, other than look?” Sir Lady Serah asked.

  Chancellor Alighieri, who had entered the bridge during their conversation, chuckled. “I believe the good lady is correct.”

  Captain Cranshall nodded. “To that location then, Stevensword, set course.”

  Chapter 136

  Astlan, Orcan Plains, Twenty Leagues Southwest of Jötunnhenj: Early Fifth Period

  Tal Gor scanned the sky around them from Schwarzenfürze’s back as they continued on their journey, now fully armored and hopefully prepared for battle. He had to use the term “hopefully” because none of the orcs had any experience in aerial combat. Yes, they had done air-to-ground attacks against animals while hunting for the feast, but fighting enemies in the air? That was not something many orcs ever did. True, there were stories of orc tribes that had tamed dragons, but that seemed a bit fanciful.

  It had been a bit difficult to get Schwarzenfürze fully fitted out again, as she had suddenly decided she wanted a snack of plain grass and shrubs. It was just like the stubborn D’Warg, to get hungry just when they needed to prepare for battle. He was chasing her around, trying to make sure everything was in place. Eventually, however, he had gotten her properly fitted and his own weapons readied and in place for quick switching in combat.

  The D’Orcs had recommended that all the orcs start with crossbows for distance combat. As with Tal Gor’s staff, the D’Warg harness had long tethers that could be knotted to iron rings on the crossbows, ensuring they would not fall if dropped. That was critical when one had to switch to close-quarter combat with axes or swords.

  Of course, it was not at all clear to Tal Gor how that would work, not without accidentally slicing a D’Warg. Zargvarst, however, had assured them that unless their weapons were magical, they would not be able to seriously harm the D’Wargs, other than to perhaps throw off their balance or impede their wings’ motion.

  Lob Smasher’s primary battle axe was inscribed with runes of power, so that would be a problem, other than that none of the orcs had any arcane weapons that would harm the D’Wargs. Except for Tal Gor, of course. His staff was a shamanic staff, and its mana pool stored his mana. It had some other shamanic properties as well; however, as far as he knew, the blade, metal teeth and mace parts of it were not magical.

  At least Völund had not said the blades were magical. Tal Gor frowned. However, given that the staff was forged in the Abyss by Völund the Smith, he who had forged Arthur’s Caliburn (as well as Durandal and Gram, which would be reforged as Regin, not to mention the walking, talking sword golem, Ruiden), it was probably not safe to assume the very sharp, double-edged blade was not magical. He would need to be very careful.

  Tal Gor rocked his staff on its large metal ball mace base in its holding cup, placing the very long staff at arms’ length to inspect it once more. Not that he had not spent a tremendous amount of time doing just that, as well as practicing with it over the last week or so. It was truly a work of mastery, from its mace base to the ornately carved unknown wood of the haft, inlaid with fine strands of metal leading to his handholds. From those smooth handholds, the staff split into two paths, creating a circular region, into which his summoning stone was firmly clamped. The outer edges of the circle were lined with sharp teeth of some metal he was not familiar with. When the two paths rejoined, twisting back into a single piece of wood, it went a short distance before widening, with the blue sapphire mana pool embedded through the haft. About four inches past the sapphire, the haft was mounted with a large, double-edged, two-foot-long metal blade. In all, the staff was a good twelve feet long from end to end, over five feet taller than Tal Gor.

  The blade and the base of the mace were etched, but the etching did not appear to be runes. Some of the carvings and metal twinings, however, he thought could be runes. He had studied it with his shaman sight, but nothing had proved conclusive, particularly since he had bound and started charging the mana pool before truly studying the staff. In hindsight, that had been a mistake, but short of draining the pool, he could not easily separate the mana he had imbued in the staff from what might have been there before.

  Of course, after four thousand years, runes or magic in the staff could have discharged, and by recharging it, he may have reactivated its magic. He was not sure. If only he’d had a better teacher than Horrgus. Someone who didn’t spend half their time drunk and the other half glarghvosted.

  A shout from Didar An Sep brought his attention around towards where she was pointing westerly, towards Fierd. Tal Gor darkened his Eagle Sight to be able to see better against the glare. There they were, advancing with Fierd at their backs to hide their approach. It was still hard to count, but there appeared to be perhaps three dozen mounted riders. Tal Gor began tightening down his staff, so that he could switch to his crossbow.

  Kirak Doth Far laughed. “Hah! I count only forty riders and their mounts, where as we are eleven warriors, five mounted D’Wargs and four now more lightly loaded D’Wargs!”

  Didar An Sep shook her head. “Forty combat units to fifteen of ours? They must have a death wish!”

  Zargvarst chuckled loudly. “In that case, I shall borrow a phrase from the djinn: their wish is our command!” He motioned the party to start heading towards the alvar.

  Zerg Fel Far, who was also a first generation D’Orc, shook his head. “These must be younger elves who have never fought D’Orcs before. Otherwise they would not be so foolish.”

  Nagh Felwraith spoke up. “Perhaps they have a wizard or animage to help put up a fight?”

  Didar An Sep shrugged. “We can hope.”

  Tal Gor glanced at his brother as they both began tightening their crossbow strings. From the worried expressions they shared, he was certain his brother was no more optimistic than he was. In recent decades, it was all their tribe could manage to hold their own while evenly matched against alvaran forces on land. He glanced to his sister as well; Soo An was looking grim, but determined. Of his tribe, only Elgrid RageWracker seemed to be
enthused.

  Tal Gor chortled bleakly to himself. Elgrid was arguably the only member of their band who was enthusiastic; the D’Orcs seemed disappointed. He supposed it helped to be immortal and know that even if you were killed, you would simply reappear in the Abyss. His tribe did not have that luxury.

  Zargvarst glanced back and noted the concerned expressions on the four orcs’ faces. He nodded. “I know you are all anxious to both improve and demonstrate your warrior skills on D’Wargback, but please remember that the D’Wargs are as battle starved as we D’Orcs, so I would ask that you not take all the fun for yourselves. Share the slaughter, allow the D’Wargs some kills. They know how to fight with riders on their backs; simply present a smaller, tighter, target on their back and give them their head as opportunity presents itself.”

  As if in response, Tal Gor felt a rumbling in Schwarzenfürze’s belly beneath him. Was her stomach growling with hunger? He had always thought battle starved and hungry for battle were expressions of a desire to fight, not literal sensations of hunger. He shook his head, noting that the distance between the two parties was decreasing quickly at this point.

  “In position: D’Orcs on the front line, orcs with crossbows behind!” Zargvarst ordered, spinning around to face the advancing alvar. “Try not to waste quarrels on us, but do not shy from tricky shots; you cannot harm us!”

  The band moved into a rough wedge formation with Zargvarst at point, Kirak to his right followed by Didar An Sep, and then two of the pack D’Wargs; to his left was Nagh and then Zerg and two more pack D’Wargs. Each member to the right or left was a bit behind their mate towards the center. Essentially, they were forming a shield around the orcs, who were readying their crossbows.

  For the orcs, Lob took inner point with Bor Tal and then Elgrid to his right, Soo Ann and Fed Tal to his left. Lob gestured for Tal Gor to move behind him, making him the most shielded of all. Tal Gor frowned at the implication that he needed the most protection. Although it was technically true, it still did not sit well with him. Nor, judging by her growl, with Schwarzenfürze.