After what seemed like a small eternity, he was able to clean the golem to the point that he could follow the links to the commune. He was surprised to find that the bergrisi had seventeen liches controlling it. He got his initial lock on the liches and moved to the first.
Suddenly Tom felt indescribable pain coming from the other links. The liches had found a way to protect themselves. Surprising, given that they were on opposite sides of the battlefield, but he assumed the commanding Storm Liches had somehow got word to them.
Tom had to withdraw slightly and put up mental walls to numb the pain of the attacks. He had no idea what they were doing, but it hurt. He created his own link to the other end of the commune link.
Morok, I need you and a couple others to follow this link to the lich commune controlling the risi. They are putting up a fight; I need you to distract them. Do not kill them here; I need to be able to hunt down their phylacteries so I need them functional, just unable to cast spells! The D’Orc was from Visteroth, a world where the orcs had evolved to combat the Unlife. Morok would fully understand what was needed.
Understood! Morok said, and pulled three of his elite to follow him.
Tom turned his attention back to the liches of the commune. They were fighting their way back. He was losing some ground. He took a deep mental breath and waded once more into the pain. It would be very helpful to understand what they were doing so he could combat it. He really needed animage training; perhaps Morok could help with that. The D’Orc was an animage. At the moment, all he could do was press against each link in succession, testing for weaknesses, pulling back if the pain got too great.
The Unlife are in motion, Morok reported. They are pulling all their forces from this side as well, gathering the remnants of the army on the plain before the main gate. I would guess they are about three-fifths of their original size. There are ghouls carrying coffins, I assume the vampires. I would call it a retreat, but they are gathering in a single large area rather than leaving the field.
Keep me informed, Tom replied. He twisted his head on his shoulders; he was developing a real headache battling these seventeen liches. One would push back, driving him back towards the bergrisi, and Tom would respond, only to have one of the others advance. It was not a question of sheer power; he clearly had more, but they were using wizardry, which everyone had informed him could be much more effective per unit of mana spent.
After what seemed like an eternity, one of the links suddenly weakened and Tom moved in for the kill. The lich was distracted, as he’d hoped, and the others started to press upon him, but then three more suddenly backed off. That was sufficient; the pain was lowered enough so that he could proceed.
Within moments he had the link to the phylactery, and then the lich was screaming in fear and agony. It warmed the cockles of Tom’s soul to hear a creature that thrived and fed upon the fear of others to feel fear, agony and pain itself. Where had that thought come from? Tom suddenly wondered. He shook his head even as the lich exploded, and he moved to the next.
“He’s coming down!” Talarius shouted at the D’Orcs surrounding the suddenly flesh-and-bone bergrisi, trying to control its collapse. He sighed a breath of relief; Tom had managed to bring the giant down. Talarius peered at it. It was rather amazing; the bergrisi looked very different, obviously alive and healthy, than it had before. That was not something that Excrathadorus Mortis could have ever done when he’d had it. Technically, he thought to himself, it’s not really the same dagger anymore. He closed his eyes for a moment before moving to land on the inner wall. The giant, heavyset knight had shrunk down to normal size and was standing on the wall beside Beragamos.
All three stood there, watching a larger-sized Tom try to make the bergrisi a bit more comfortable in the confined, crumbling courtyard.
Hilda raised her eyebrows. “For a demon prince, he shows an amazing amount of compassion.
Talarius chuckled mirthlessly. “I no longer know what the phrase demon prince means. He has been more than honorable to me; more so than I deserve. He extended his trust when he had no reason to.”
“Sometimes things are more complicated than they first appear,” Beragamos agreed, nodding.
“We are all going to have to talk,” Hilda said, staring intently at Beragamos.
“We will. Things are complicated,” Beragamos said. “We still have much more work to do here.”
“We do,” Talarius said. He could not believe he was addressing the most senior archon of his god as an equal, but things were changing. “However, I have one question first.”
“Yes?” Beragamos said, raising one eyebrow in some surprise at his temerity.
“I recently saw a memory mirroring of Orcus at a wedding; the wedding of Aetherus and Eris,” Talarius stated.
“I know the image. I held the mirror,” Beragamos said.
“So all of that is true,” Talarius asked, trying to be as stoic as possible.
“That Orcus is the stepbrother of the Five Siblings — that they were once great, if undisclosed, allies?” Beragamos asked wearily.
“So it is true,” Talarius said.
Beragamos nodded. Hilda was staring at both of them in complete and utter shock.
“And they conspired—” Talarius began, but Beragamos interrupted him with a tight, teeth-clenched grin.
“We will not talk about that here, in public — not with the Unlife nearby,” Beragamos said grimly.
Talarius nodded.
Tom stood up from the bergrisi, who was finally resting comfortably. He turned to the fallen outer wall to see Morok and his small team flying back in. Tom smiled as they approached. “Good work! I cannot tell you how invaluable your mission was!” he told them.
The D’Orcs laughed. “And we cannot tell you how much we enjoyed the sweet, sweet singing of the liches as their phylacteries burned,” Morok said before taking a deep breath through his nose. “It is a song of joy that warms our hearts and puts wind into our lungs!”
“What news of the Unlife?” Tom asked.
“There was only a small regiment, a few hundred, protecting the commune. We took them out. All other forces are being withdrawn to the central plain. All functional forces are moving into a large circular region on the plane. I estimate about one hundred and twenty thousand, perhaps one hundred and fifty thousand,” Morok said.
“That must be a huge circle,” Tom said.
“They are very tightly packed into the circle; it is not what I would consider a battle formation,” the commander informed him.
“Have your men guard the bergrisi from any Unlife attack. You are an expert on the Unlife; join me on the command tower. We need to coordinate,” Tom instructed.
Commanders! Tom ordered. All not specifically assigned to guarding the risar or other critical points, herd the Unlife to their circle, but do not engage until further orders!
“Avatars, to the command tower,” he shouted.
Tom hovered over the main gate with Talarius and Stainsberry at his side on their steeds. Grob was with them on a griffin; Beragamos hovered nearby as well. Tamarin had shrunk herself and was sitting on Tom’s shoulder. They were watching as the D’Orc, D’Warg and demon forces of Doom arrayed themselves in the air around the very tightly packed circle of Unlife. It was very bizarre to note the various avatars in the air with them at cardinal locations.