by Jarod Meyer
William watched as he adjusted his ruffled coat. He then indicated to his guards that they should lower their weapons, never taking his eyes off of William. The small man seemed to study him intently. William could almost see the cogs turning inside his pale little head.
“If what you say is true, then friends help one another. If you are truly set on finding the Basileus, then I can tell you where he is, but you must help me first, friend,” Vanity said, mockingly. “I have seen your signets. I know that you bear the mark of the traitor. Even in Dichonia this is a shameful. For if you can betray once then you can betray again. If you truly wish to earn my trust then you must face a demon that has haunted me for centuries.”
William lowered his sword, and with a spin, sheathed it behind his back. “You know little of these symbols. This has been known for centuries as the mark of the traitor, but it was originally the mark of evil. I did it to myself. I wouldn’t let those prancing fairies touch my skin. I chose to come here. I wasn’t cast out,” William said, with narrowed eyes. Vanity simply studied him for a moment.
The two demons that William just killed were feeble, but he could tell that truly deadly adversaries stood amongst the group ahead of him. He hoped that puffing out his chest would make Vanity think twice before crossing him, but it was a risky gambit. He surmised just from the change in Vanity’s demeanor that at the snap of a finger he could have William utterly annihilated.
“Where is this creature that you need me to deal with?” William asked.
Vanity’s face crinkled into a sinister smile. Then with a wave of his hands the guards dispersed. A group stayed, telling William that Vanity still didn’t fully trust him. But the master of the house paced back and forth, a feint cackle rising from his throat.
“It is an ancient demon who constantly makes my life miserable. As you can imagine, I have enjoyed many fine luxuries over the centuries. These luxuries do not come without a price,” he said, smoothing his hair back down. A servant girl approached him, holding a mirror. “This beast lives within my soul. For every action there is a consequence, and every time I indulge in pleasures something bad happens to me. The beast is called karma. Perhaps you have heard of this before?” he asked.
“Yes, if you do something bad something bad will happen to you, if you do something good then the opposite. Something like that?” William replied casually.
“Precisely, my friend, and though I do not deem my actions to be inherently bad this creature does not distinguish. Why else would a fallen Archonian be here, especially after having destroyed two of my villages, and wreaking havoc across my lands?” Vanity said.
“Perhaps you are imagining these things? You can’t always have good things come to you,” William said.
Vanity waived him away. William decided that he must be an incredibly superstitious soul.
“Regardless of my beliefs, I want this demon destroyed. If you can bring me a token, proving that you have destroyed it, then I will call you my brother and I will set up a meeting with the Basileus,” he said, now shooing the servant girl away. Then he began to walk away. William didn’t follow. Vanity stopped, and turned. “There are many more things to attend to today. Will you join me?” he asked, smiling again.
This guy is like a rollercoaster. One minute he loves you, and the next, he wants to kill you.
Vanity led William around the rest of the fortress. He showed him his “pleasures and treasures”, as he called them. There was a decent pool to swim in. You could barely see to the bottom, thanks to the murky liquid filling it. Adjacent to the recreation area was a bathhouse, where parties raged, day or night. They passed a group of gluttonous beings that couldn’t possibly have been men, but unfortunately bore all the correct appendages and organs.
“The steam vents are run by pouring scented water over swirling pools of magma,” Vanity claimed, adding that the molten stone was pumped straight up from the depths.
William didn’t really understand what this meant, but was cautious not to get too close to the molten rock. They stripped out of their clothes and donned black towels, before relaxing in the thick air. The air smelled a bit like sulfur, but the overpowering perfume they were forcing through the vents made it tolerable.
After a nice steam, which William did admit took the edge off of the Dichonian chill in the air, they exited the recreation area and Vanity showed William his treasure room. It sat nestled in the bowels of the Cliffside, beneath the fortress. The sleek and decorated walls soon gave way to shear rock carved into rooms that looked exactly like William would expect a room in hell to look. Dark cold and utterly abandoned. The dust and cobwebs coated the furniture.
The Vault was large, but nothing spectacular compared to the sprawling halls of Valhalla. William watched as four guards dressed in golden robes floated to the vault door and made intricate motions upon four seals of the opening. It soon swung wide open.
“Your subjects must be loyal for you to trust them with the code to your vault,” William remarked, casually.
“Oh, loyalty has nothing to do with it, young Dichonian. I own their souls.”
“How can you own their souls? What does that mean exactly,” William asked, his chest tightening slightly.
“A story for another time, William,” Vanity said, ignoring his curiosity.
Soon they were surrounded by an incredible assortment of treasures. Gold and gemstones lay about the floor, and William wondered what use anyone could have for such things in this world. He saw shelves lined with books and other objects. Various weapons hung about the walls, alongside art which could have only come from Archonia.
What interested him most were items that lay on three pedestals around the room. Light shone upon them as if to highlight their value. William was about to approach one of them, but was interrupted as Vanity began to seethe with excitement as he talked about his many treasures. He was only half-paying attention.
“What are these?” William asked, interrupting his host. He nearly apologized for interrupting, but then quickly remembered where he was.
“Those, my dear, are my greatest treasures, and you are never to touch them!” Vanity said, with a combination of excitement and threat in his voice. “Over here we have the candle of death. It is said to have been created by an ancient witch doctor. Should you trick anyone into lighting it, their life force will then be bound to the candle. If it is blown out, the person’s soul is either trapped or destroyed.”
William appraised the tiny candle. It looked as though it had been used many times. There was perhaps only an inch of the sanguine-colored wax left.
“Next, I have my personal favorite. This dagger has killed millions of people. It is said that it was created by Lucifer himself, and was carried by one of the first Dichonian souls. I won it in a bet from a poor wretch. He was the only one who could truly wield it, but after the bet he could no longer touch it. He thought to get the better of me by wagering it, but its allegiance now lies with me,” Vanity said, holding up a fine dagger. It was simple in design, and the etchings upon it looked familiar. The alloy was darker than steel and glowed with a strange, crimson light. “I call it Cain.”
Then it struck him, and he knew exactly where he’d seen the symbols before. They were on the blade hanging on his back. This very well could have been the dagger of the Archon Lucifer. He said nothing about Gungnir, but did raise a question about the dagger that Vanity was holding.
“Isn’t the Archon Lucifer still alive? Wouldn’t he wield his own dagger?” William asked casually.
Vanity chuckled and shook his head. “Young Dichonian the Archon has not been seen in a millennium.”
This was incredible news to William. Archonia was under the impression that the Archon Lucifer controlled everything in Dichonia. He wondered if Tamara knew about this, and if so, if she’d ever informed Achilles.
Vanity set the dagger back on the pedestal and then pulled out a pocket watch from his jacket. “My goodness, look at the time.
We should be off to our next engagement,” he said with a smile.
“What about that?” William asked, looking to the next pedestal, on which lay a pair of spectacles. They were not normal glasses however. Square and geometrical in shape, the frames appeared to be made from pure gold, inset with vibrant square-cut rubies.
“We shall be back again someday, William, for now we must continue with our day, lest we fall behind schedule,” Vanity said.
The rest of the day was filled with mundane activities. They ate, they walked, and they talked. They tortured creatures for Vanity’s pleasure.
That evening William requested that he be left alone with Tamara. He told Vanity that the two wore him out the previous night, and he could use a nice long meditation. This seemed to tickle Vanity, and he ordered that only Tamara be waiting for him in his chambers. Another extravagant party began, so William retired early. The day had exhausted him. It was stressful, walking around on eggshells, wondering if Vanity was going to snap again. Not only that, but the constant charade, the façade of being heartless and evil wasn’t normal or comfortable for him.
William returned to his room to find that Tamara had already torn her chains off, and was sitting in bed naked, eating chocolates. He approached, an eyebrow raised.
“They said you were tired and wanted to be alone with me tonight,” she said, sticking another chocolate into her mouth.
William leaned over, and acted as if he was kissing her cheek.
“We have to act like we aren’t being watched. Say nothing of Archonia,” he whispered in her ear. She looked at him, and nodded. Then William continued normally.
“Yeah, I’m exhausted. That son of a bitch tried to kill me today,” he said, loudly, pushing his energy outwards.
He could feel the same strange aura behind the walls, as if they had eyes and ears. Someone was listening in. He needed to be convincing, and make it sound like he was really speaking in private.
“Why did he do this?” Tamara asked, casually.
“I mentioned Luxor, and he got all bent out of shape,” William replied, stretching his arms.
Tamara shifted her body, giving him room to sit on the edge of the bed, and then began massaging his shoulders. He couldn’t tell if this was sincere or part of the act, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.
“You’re still alive, so how did you earn his trust back?” Tamara asked, breathing down his neck as she rubbed his muscles.
“He wants me to get him another trophy. Kill another demon for him,” William said, closing his eyes as her fingers worked out the knots in his neck.
“Oh, is that right? And which enemy does he need destroyed that he couldn’t destroy himself?”
“He called the beast Karma.”
William tried to continue, but he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as Tamara clamped down hard on his flesh. He recoiled, and turned around to look at her. Her face was twisted in terror.
“William, you cannot do this. We will have to find another way,” she said, her hands shaking.
“Tamara, don’t worry. I have faced powerful creatures before. I have the training I need,” he said, his brow wrinkling in confusion.
“No! You don’t understand. This is not just another beast, William. This is one of the oldest and most wretched demons in this hell. Every demon or fallen Archonian who has sought to destroy it has failed, but not only this, the creature feeds on their power. With each soul, it gets stronger, and it is nearly as old as Dichonia itself. William, the master is setting you up to fail. He knows that you will not return,” she said, desperately clinging to his arm.
He laid a hand on her, and said. “Okay. I will find another way.”
The night was short, but William allowed himself to drift into a meditative state. Instead of reliving the past few days in complete detail, like was normal, he began to dream. It was as if he was suddenly awakened by the bright light of an Archonian morning. He was naked, and lying next to a familiar face. Her smooth, caramel skin, and flowing black hair shimmered in the light. He could feel her warmth radiating around her body. Angelica lay perfectly still, as if sleeping. Her adorable, pouted lips pulled into a slight smile, speaking to her contentment.
He tried to touch her beautiful face, but she disappeared. He looked around the room in a panic. They were in her apartment high above the ground. She now stood near the balcony.
William jumped up, struggling to rationalize what was happening. She must not have been sleeping after all.
He reached out to grab her again, but again she blinked away from him. Now she was standing on the ledge of the railing facing him. Her face was contorted with fear, her hands clawing the air as she reached out to him. William cried out for her as she fell backwards, but no sound issued forth from his lips. He knew that she couldn’t fly, and that her mind would not be able to handle the shock of such a fall. He ran forward, but it felt as if he was running through deep, thick mud. Eventually he made it over the edge of the balcony and dropped. He saw her falling, and heard her scream. He was dropping in slow motion. He pushed forward with all of his might, trying to catch up. She disappeared again in the next moment, flames erupting all around him.
Another scream split through his mind and he was awoken from his trance. He was on his feet in a split second, his armor already clamping down upon his body. The scream came from Tamara, who cowered on her knees in the corner, a Dichonian in black armor standing over her. The man’s two blades crossed like an ex under her chin, ready to cut off her head.
William froze, and in the span of a heartbeat, took in the rest of the room. There were five soldiers. William recognized most of them from the party the other night. Vanity stood in a shadow near the door. The top half of his body was shrouded by blackness. He slowly came forth into the dim light.
“It was unwise to let your guard down, even for a moment in Dichonia. This is a costly lesson,” Vanity said.
William said nothing, his mind working feverishly on options.
“You seem very astute however, young Dichonian. You will learn quickly. As you may have guessed, I have been monitoring you,” he said, indicating a painting on the wall. To William’s amazement, the man in the picture moved. With the naked eye it appeared as no more than a painting, but the man emerged from the canvas, and left it empty.
“What do you want, Francois?” William asked seriously. Vanity appraised him with sinister eyes.
“I want what all men want. I want more. Food, sex, money, power, you name it. I didn’t lie to you when I told you that this creature Karma has haunted me. I liked you, William. I really did, but you came to my home, accepted my hospitality, and played the part of the arrogant adolescent,” he said, his voice now a dangerous hiss.
William felt Gungnir hum upon his back, it was ready for battle.
“We can work this out, Francois. I told you before that I’m new here. I don’t know how things work. Teach me, and I will be your loyal servant,” William said, desperately trying to play to Vanity’s ego.
“Enough! William, I gave you chances, and you have squandered them. I heard your little chat earlier. You would betray me, and find another way to Luxor,” he said with a wry grin. William thought quickly, and spoke fast.
“What I meant was that we were going to ask… your lordship, if there was another task that we could accomplish that would please you,” William said trying to staunch his temper and remain proper.
“You have been gifted with a silver tongue, my friend. But I am afraid that I am no longer fooled. If you truly wish to serve me then you will do this task,” he said, looking slowly over to Tamara. “I have graciously accepted my servant back from you William. If you should see fit to abandon the quest I have tasked you with, know that she will be punished severely,” Vanity said scathingly.
“Kill her, I’m bored with her anyway,” William offered, trying his best to bluff.
“Oh, William, is that anyway to treat your pet?” Vanity asked. Then he motioned to the g
uard holding her, who raised one of his blades. William held strong.
Vanity wouldn’t destroy one of his matriarchs, would he?
William’s gut wrenched. The blade descended in slow motion upon his one and only companion in this world. For a second he thought the blade would stop, but it sank into her right shoulder. Tamara screamed in agony. William’s reaction was instant.
“Bastard!” he cried, lunging at Vanity. His sword arced towards the man’s pale face. But pain shot through William’s hand, and even with his stone-hard grip, he felt Gungnir slip. It fell to the ground with a thud.
Another strike took William’s left knee out from behind him, as two Dichonians fell over him. He wrestled with all his strength to get free, but they were strong. He was no match for all of them at once, especially in this small space. Tamara cried in agony as her blood pooled on the floor below.
“I will kill you!” William yelled, with every ounce of breath in his body.
The nearest guard hit him hard in the face over, and over. The jarring blows stunned him, stars exploding before his eyes. His fight bled away.
“No, William. It is I who will kill you, and her,” Vanity said, playfully. “You will bring me Karma’s heart, or I will gut her like swine!” The small man’s voice rose into a maddening yell, his hair ruffling, and his face reddening.
He took William’s face with one hand and gripped it hard. “I am the master. I make the rules. You will obey them!” he spat into William’s face, not inches away.
William gritted his teeth, and struggled again, but the two guards had his arms wrenched behind him. Then Vanity turned, and walked out of the room. William could still hear Tamara, but his right eye was already swollen shut. He could no longer see her. Her cries became softer as they dragged her away. Steel connected with his face and he felt his jaw dislocate. Another blow smashed into his nose with a sickening crack. He became blinded by blood and swollen flesh.
