The Heavenly Host

Beragamos in his outdoor, winged form flew over the rolling meadows surrounding the five-hundred-foot-tall, refleca-marbled building. The scent of flowers was strong on the air. From a long distance, the Palaestra resembled a fairly standard rectangular building girded in Corinthian columns. Only as one got closer, which took some time, did one begin to realize exactly how huge the building was.

Once more, as he had so often done, Beragamos smiled as he thought about how lucky they were that the outer planes only obeyed those laws of physics that pleased their owners. Otherwise, this building would be completely unstable from an engineering standpoint. The weight of a real marble ceiling of the size of the Palaestra’s would need much more support than it had. Fortunately, refleca objects only weighed what they needed to weigh.

Beragamos landed on the top stairs of the main entrance of the Palaestra. He straightened his robes and proceeded forward. The two-hundred-foot-tall marble double doors swung open silently at his approach. He entered, and smiled slightly at the convenient nature of refleca when it came to minimizing energy requirements to open such seemingly immobile doors.

Beragamos passed through the antechamber and into the main arena of the Palaestra. This floor was a large training field, lined inside as well with more columns. Along each of the sidewalls were doors of various heights, all at least fifty feet high, leading to training studios, baths and ancillary chambers.

The avatar walked around the outside edge of the arena, behind the inner columns to avoid the sparring Holy Knights, all of whom were twenty feet tall and armed to the teeth. He purposefully avoided looking toward the far end of the hall, his destination, where Tiernon sat upon his throne.

Even at a fast walk, it took Beragamos’s human-sized legs some time to traverse the field. He finally stopped at the right approach to the throne. This was the waiting area to the right of the throne, where those wishing an audience could wait until they were acknowledged and motioned forward.

It was only upon reaching the approach that Beragamos dared look at his god, trying to judge his mood. This was one reason why he did not like this form; it was very hard to judge demeanor and reactions. The scale probably had something to do with it.

Tiernon’s form in the Palaestra was one hundred feet tall when standing; sitting on the throne, he was still over sixty-five feet tall. Tiernon was seated in the very ornately carved Palaestra throne; he was clad in sandals with golden leg wrappings that crisscrossed his truly enormous and muscular calves to tie just below the knee.

He wore only a single shoulder toga with three layers of refleca silk. Each sheet was probably a hundred and fifty feet or more long. A wide belt with very a large, golden buckle carved with Tiernon’s own face kept the toga tight. Tiernon’s form was that of a human man of great but not excessive muscle. The perfection of the human form, without the bulk of a barbarian.

His curly hair, made of strands of real gold, was held in place by a mithral coronet. His right biceps was also encircled with a silvery white mithral band. That was the extent of the jewelry. The god did not need much more than that; the chiseled, square face and the deep black eyes ensured that those viewing the god saw little else. Beragamos had to be careful not to look into the eyes. That was the trap of this form. One could easily get lost in their depths.

Beragamos waited silently for some time as the duels between the various knights played themselves out with Tiernon’s all-seeing gaze. Beragamos glanced at the knights. How they could practice under the gaze of Tiernon was beyond Beragamos. The pressure seemed unimaginable to him.

Eventually the knights finished and all bowed deeply before their god. Tiernon clapped in approval, sending shockwaves through the air that visibly moved the looser clothing on the knights, as well as Beragamos’s gown.

“EXCELLENT WORK, MY KNIGHTS!” he boomed. “WE ARE MOST PLEASED WITH YOUR EXERCISES. WE SHALL SEE YOU ALL TOMORROW.”

As the knights trotted off the field to the showers, the god slowly turned his gaze towards Beragamos. Crap! There it was. He had accidentally met Tiernon’s gaze and had to fight to keep from being drawn into those two enormous black spheres. A blackness deeper and darker than the darkest corner of starless space, a blackness so deep it seemed never-ending. However, as one peered more, one could sense that there was something in that blackness — a fire, orbs of fire, brightly burning stars? It was more a sense than an actual sight.

Beragamos blinked; Tiernon had released his gaze. Beragamos shook his head and then bowed deeply at the waist. “My Lord Tiernon! You have summoned me, your loyal servant.”