Void: Book Five of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

  “Leaving aside the notion you’re training Homo Apocalypticus to worship you—a notion I find disturbing, at best—you’re saying individual universes have individual laws regarding the manifestations of energy-state beings. Did I get the gist of it?”

  “Yes, I’d say so. That’s one reason gate spells have a large transformative component—they alter everything going through them so they’re congruent with the rules and laws in the destination universe, tuned to operate the way they should.”

  “I see your point,” I admitted. “Okay. So, Multiscient One—”

  “Multiscient?” he interrupted.

  “Omniscient is all-knowing,” I pointed out. “Multiscient is many-knowing. You don’t know everything, but you know lots of things.”

  “Wouldn’t it be ‘polyscient’?”

  “I’m pretty sure poly is from the Greek. Multi is the Latin prefix for ‘many’. I could have it backward, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

  “I didn’t know that,” he admitted. “Go on.”

  “No, you tell me more about angels. As far as I can tell, they’re energy beings of a more compact, rigidly-designed form. If ‘designed’ is the right word.”

  “I don’t know much about them. Well, other than what I’ve observed from the one we have here.”

  “So, the Lord of Light is definitely one of those sorts of energy-state beings?”

  “From what I’ve seen, yes. His basic structure is quite similar to the one you met in the junkyard.”

  “Does he seem to have anyone he reports to? If he’s going to completely lose his temper and call for backup, I don’t want to find a real god is prepared to throw a thunderbolt.”

  “No, he seems to be on his own, but he does have fingers in many pies—that is, he’s worshipped in many worlds.”

  “Hang on. He’s worshipped, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t seem very angelic.”

  “Again, I’m not sure these are angels, as you understand them. If we assume there’s a god—an actual god—who built or created or whatevered a whole host of angels, who’s to say someone else—Rendu, maybe, as an example—didn’t copy the design?”

  “Wonderful. Not only do I have to worry about the hosts of Heaven smiting me, I have to worry about which host of what heaven might be doing it.” I lay down on the altar and ground the heels of my hands in my eyesockets. “I don’t suppose you can give me any ideas about whether or not I’m likely to encounter Jehovah, Odin, Zeus, Jupiter, Ra or Horus, or any of a few hundred or a few thousand other gods?”

  “Sorry. I’m just barely starting to branch out to other worlds, thanks to you. Even the rest of the bunch up here have only a few very limited connections to other material planes. Ah! Did you see the other worlds when you visited this energy plane?”

  “I saw some…” I thought back, “…individual planets? Plates? Some sort of worlds like… like aquariums, or terrariums, or something.”

  “Tiny universes, floating in the sea of chaos, yes. That little cluster of worldlets is our neighborhood. I’m not doing so well on most of them—it’s hard to get at them to get a foothold. I’m working on it, and you’re adding to my power up here by spreading my influence in places I can’t normally reach.”

  The face of smoke descended, as though leaning down next to me.

  “But don’t tell anybody,” he whispered. “They’ll all want to try sending avatars into worlds they haven’t reached.”

  “Mum’s the word,” I assured him. “Do you have any other good news?”

  “Well, T’yl has Alliasian and Filiathes for your cloning setup.”

  “I’ll go see him in a minute. I’m going to ask another question and make a request.”

  “Fire away. But remember, I’m tired. My energy reserves are at an all-time low after forcing a universe to give birth to the spirit of a horse.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. The question is about Rendu. You mentioned him, it, whatever. Do you think he could have created the Lord of Light—the one I got into a fight with, I mean. The angelic thing that took over the religion.”

  “It’s possible, if it was kicked out of this universe. It’s got foundations of worship in others. So, if it was thrown out of here, it could have built up its power and staged a comeback. I don’t think so, though. I tend to think it’s more of an opportunist from somewhere else. It saw an opening here and stepped into it. I think it wants to be a god, a real god, and is trying to gather enough power to be unquestioned as a god.”

  “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” he advised, sadly.

  “You’d think I’d know better by now,” I agreed, sitting up.

  “It’s the primate curiosity itch.”

  “No doubt. All right, now the request. I may need to consult with this Rendu person. Angels bother me. You’re similar to one in many ways, but I get the impression Rendu outclasses an angel. I may need advice or help—possibly even protection. So now I have a reason to want to get to the playground prison of the Heru, rather than just some request by Bob. Bob is supposed to be looking at ways to get into the Mountains of the Sun without being magically fried, but it’s a long way off and I doubt he’s making much progress—there seems to be a shortage of creative thinkers in this world.”

  “I think it has to do with our setup,” the smoke replied. “We don’t encourage creative thinking. We encourage dogmatism. It’s a hazard when you survive on belief and devotion.”

  “I have a number of unpleasant comments, none of which I am making.”

  “You forget, I already know you’re a blasphemer and a heretic.”

  “Only because you are, too.”

  “Shut up,” he muttered. “It’s not hard to blaspheme oneself, but being a heretic of your own religion? It’s embarrassing.”

  “It’s tough playing god,” I consoled. “The thing I want is an analysis of the Mountains of the Sun and the hazards of entering it. Think you can do that?” I asked. The hand reappeared, stroking the jaw and chin.

  “Probably. I’ll poke around a bit when I’m feeling up to it. I’m still recuperating.”

  “So you’ve said. All right. Anything else for me?”

  “Nope. Anything for me?”

  “Not right now, but I’ll want to talk to you in Apocalyptica.”

  “Oh? All right, I’ll keep an ear out. Adios.”

  “Adiaŭ.”

  As Bronze and I left the main sanctuary, I developed a greater appreciation for my bodyguard detail. It doesn’t matter which knights get the duty, they always take it seriously, which is more than I can manage. When I pulled open the doors to the sanctuary area, they were standing just outside, keeping people from crowding up.

  Well, if the living avatar of a deity walks into his temple and has a private chat with god, I suppose the Word will get around.

  After some shouting and handwaving by the men in black, people cleared a path. Bronze encouraged me to walk instead of ride. I grumbled a little—privately—but plastered a Perfectly Believable Smile on my face and did as she suggested. People reached out to me, of course, wanting to touch me. I let them. My cloak tended to ripple over their hands as I headed down the hall, between the lines of the devout. They reached out to stroke Bronze, as well, as she walked behind me. The Banner walked ahead to make sure I had a clear path. The Shield and Blade flanked me, with Bronze, amused, bringing up the rear.

  It was a long damn walk, but, strangely enough, I felt much more energized by the time we ran out of people.

  Me, too, echoed softly in my head.

  Feeling better? I thought back.

  Somewhat, yes. It’s a shame we can’t do that a thousand more times.

  I’ll look into the matter when I get a minute, I promised.

  Once we made it down to the deep tunnels, I mounted up and Bronze took me to T’yl’s chambers. While I appreciate bodyguards, sometimes I don’t want to bri
ng them along.

  T’yl wasn’t in. I muttered something about there never being a magician around when you want one and fished out my pocket mirror. He didn’t answer when I called him, either.

  There was considerably more grumbling while I cast a location spell—twice, since the active-pulse version didn’t register anything—before I got a hit.

  Ah, of course. He’s in the baths.

  We walked quickly down to the bath-springs. Bronze waited outside, the very heart and soul of patience. On the way, someone must have dropped a dime on me. A trio of armored men appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and wordlessly insisted on following me around.

  I went in to strip, scrub, and press on into the public areas. People were having a nice soak or splash after a long day. The place was as lively as a public pool on a summer weekend. Much of the cavernous space became noticeably quieter when I entered. I think it was the three suits of armor. People took note, but pretended to ignore us thereafter.

  I spotted T’yl almost immediately. He sat in a four-person nook, sort of a horseshoe-shaped booth in the edge of the main pool. An elderly gentleman sat with him, soaking, while a pair of ladies-for-hire made sure they didn’t starve.

  As we approached, I felt a mild deflecting sensation—a privacy shield, probably. T’yl noticed me and beckoned me through, causing the sensation to vanish. I could then hear him and his guest. Very neat. My shadows took up station around our little nook and radiated an aura of intimidation. I’m not sure they were trying.

  I settled in as T’yl introduced me.

  “Pollavus, may I present the King of Karvalen?”

  The elderly gentleman’s eyebrows climbed his forehead like frightened caterpillars. They had no hope of reaching his hairline. The summit was much too far above, but they tried. The attending ladies glanced back and forth at Pollavus and at me, clearly puzzled.

  “Don’t get up,” I commanded, parking myself in the water and my belongings behind my head. “Pleased to meet you, Pollavus.”

  “The honor is mine, Your Majesty.” He glanced at the small, martial mountains but didn’t comment on them.

  “Please. There are no formalities in a public bath.”

  “As you command, Sire.”

  There are drawbacks to my reputation as the Demon King.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting?” I pointed at the ladies and gestured them to continue their services.

  “Not at all,” T’yl assured me. “We were just discussing the possibility of immortality. Nothing too serious.”

  “It is quite the serious matter to me,” Pollavus corrected. “At my age, it becomes a priority.”

  “I imagine,” T’yl agreed.

  “May I ask how old you are?” I inquired.

  “Three hundred and sixty-seven.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Would it be improper of me to inquire about your age, Sire?”

  “Yes,” I stated, flatly. He took the hint.

  “I am told you do not provide immortality through the rites of blood,” he went on, “but offer elvish bodies as houses for the soul.”

  “True,” I acknowledged.

  “May I ask why?”

  “To keep the world from being eaten.”

  Both Pollavus and T’yl sat up at that, making waves and disturbing the ladies attending them. One of them said something, but it was as though the sound was off. I didn’t hear it.

  “Eaten?” Pollavus inquired, eyes narrowing.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid I do not understand.”

  “It’s a question of immortality treated as an infinite amount of time,” I explained. “If I turn one person into a nightlord… oh, say every century. If I do that, in a hundred years, there will be two of us. In a thousand years, I’ll have created a total of ten. With me so far?”

  “Certainly.”

  “This assumes I’m being responsible and careful. You wouldn’t think one nightlord every century is so bad. But what about those I create? What if the first one is grabbed, drained dry, and his blood is used to create ten more? The first one is destroyed, but now there are ten to take his place, and we haven’t even gotten past the first century.

  “What happens when one of them—just one—decides he can’t stand to be immortal if it means he has to leave his wife to die? Or his children? Or his whole harem? Maybe he wants his personal guards to have some nightlords mixed in with them, so his blood changes half of them. What happens if someone gets a little too hungry and creates a bunch of bloodthirsty night-walking monsters? How many are we up to, now? Too many.”

  “I believe I see where this is going.”

  “Good. Because I’ve done some calculations and I’m pretty sure the world can be completely turned into nightlords in about three weeks—every man, woman, and child of every race. Three weeks. Anyone who avoids this fate would, of course, be killed and their blood consumed. Shortly thereafter, every animal that walks, flies, crawls, or swims will be equally dead, drained of blood.”

  I looked Pollavus in the eye.

  “And then what? The world has nothing but nightlords, and they have no blood left to drink but their own. What happens to the world?”

  “I do not know,” he admitted. “But, surely, there are those who can understand such matters. You could educate them, convince them of the necessity to be circumspect, and still give the dark gift to them, could you not?”

  “Possibly. But those who want to be nightlords aren’t after immortality. They’re after power. They want to be immortal, sure, but they also want to have all the strengths of a Lord of Night. Immortality is merely a bonus. They are willing to consume the blood and souls of mortals in their quest for power and immortality. With this in mind, I presume you know a magician who would be worthy of such trust? One who would be certain to use such power wisely and never risk the fate of the world by sharing it?”

  “I… Well, that’s…” he trailed off, frowning.

  “Naturally,” T’yl pointed out, “it is a power he cannot wield without destroying himself.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed. “If he spreads the power of nightlords over the world, he’ll only doom himself. But there will always be a few people who think, ‘Oh, one more nightlord won’t matter.’ When that one guy creates a thousand more, it’s hard to reconsider.”

  “I believe,” Pollavus said, nodding slowly, “I now see why you guard your blood so jealously.”

  “Carefully,” I corrected. “I’ve been foolish with it once or twice and narrowly averted disaster. I won’t risk the world by being careless with it again. The only things keeping the world safe from this fate are the gods, me, and the magicians.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m willing to stomp an irresponsible nightlord into ashen paste. The gods have their own powers, through the priests, for counteracting the power of nightlords. And magicians—well, I’ve been kidnapped by magicians before. I’m certain the Academy is powerful enough to help resist a plague of undead.”

  “If the Council could ever agree on anything,” Pollavus sneered. “Half of them would join in if they saw a chance to get away with it.”

  I beckoned one of the hired ladies over and accepted a small dish of fruit slices.

  “Excuse me for being so pointed about it,” I apologized. “It’s not a happy responsibility.”

  “Of course, Sire. May I say, on behalf of all magicians who fear the coming of old age, we are as grateful as our nature permits for your efforts on our behalf?”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m told, though, how some of you would prefer more masculine or feminine bodies, depending on individual taste. I thought immortality would be sufficient.”

  “It is, by and large. It is an unpleasant and unexpected change, however, to seek out eternal youth and find it is less enjoyable, in some respects, than one might recall.”

  “Ah. Yes, well, I’ve been informed of my mistake and I’m working on it. Speaking of which�
�� T’yl?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Pollavus, if you will excuse us? I must wait upon the King.”

  “Of course, of course. I shall await you here for a time, then retire to my chambers.”

  T’yl and I climbed out, gathered our things, and we all processed out of the baths.

  Filiathes and Alliasian were only too willing to meet me in T’yl’s chambers. T’yl sent word to them as we were dressing. By the time we arrived at his quarters, they were waiting. They did the face-covering thing as I approached and I ignored it. I don’t like elves too much, so I didn’t want to waste time with the usual unpleasantries.

  “Sit down.” They sat. “Roll up your right sleeve.” They rolled. “Sit still.” They did.

  Okay, so there are also some good points to having a reputation as The Demon King.

  I repeated the process I once performed on Bob. A little flesh-shaping spell to roll up a bit of skin and blood and tissue and I had a toothpick-sized sample from each of them. They didn’t even bleed.

  “That will be all. You may go.”

  They didn’t ask questions. They simply bowed, did the hands-over-face thing, and backed out of the room, which suited me fine. I noticed my smile was turned off. I switched it back on and directed it at T’yl.

  “Sorry about that. Elves, you know.”

  “No offense taken,” he replied, chuckling. I remembered the body he was in was a heavily-altered elf body.

  “Oh. Right. I meant the originals.”

  “I know. So, how long may we expect to have you… Halar?”

  “Not long. I do need to get these to my lab if I expect to copy male-ish and female-ish elves.”

  “Then I shan’t delay you. I would remind you how Bob wishes you to visit your new city at your earliest convenience.”