The War of All Wars

by J. Eric Booker

  The Arch-Angels said, with one single voice, “The Creator allowed us to save you a nanosecond before your existence could be permanently snuffed. As well you were allowed to have some quality time with your wife, Brishava.”

  Baltor could only ask, “Why?”

  “The Creator has been observing your free-willed progress, Baltor Elysian, ever since your birth and all the way to your final second with the Chief of Devils, Azalea—every last second of it.

  “HE knows that you were born and plunged into a world of violence, yet you have done no wrong…in fact, you have very wisely played the cards you’ve been dealt—even the nastiest card of all, when the Chief of Devils reneged his bet-and-deal, after you honorably won the duel against Rotlab. That is why you were rescued and rewarded.”

  “I see…thanks be to the Creator,” Baltor said with a great amount of appreciation, “Like never before, I greatly feared turning into the vompareus beast, and forced to serve Azalea for all of eternity. I tried my very best to get out of that situation.”

  The Arch-Angels replied, “We know…your heart, mind and soul are so strong, young man, despite the monster that simultaneously dwells in you, which was the initial cost of your immortality. However, you found a way around even that, as did your master before you…by utilizing the cah-su-cahn berries to quench your thirst.

  “Furthermore, what you accomplished as the sultan of an entire world was far more impressive, especially because you acquired your lands peacefully, except those times when your nation was attacked first. Most rulers are both conquerors and tyrants in nature.

  “Even more impressive than that, believe it or not, was the moment when you sacrificed your entire empire and world for your master, as you selflessly entered into the Nine Planes of Hell in order to rescue him. Which by the way, were some of the most astonishing feats the Creator has ever seen since Time first began. Indeed, your master made a very wise choice when he selected you as his apprentice, of which profession the Creator now not only condones, yet endorses—the Watchers.”

  In the next moment, a suspicious look crossed Baltor’s face as his mind began to consider the possibility that this “reality” might just be another “devilish trick!”

  Before he could speak out his suspicions, which he was about to do, the Arch-Angels stated, “As well you should be suspicious considering your history, young man. When I tell you to, Baltor Elysian, close your eyes in which you will see only darkness…and count out sixty seconds. If darkness is all that you continue to see on the sixty-first second in your mind’s eye, then you will know this is but ‘a devilish trick.’

  “However, if on that sixty-first second, the most brilliant sun you’ve ever seen appears in the very middle of that darkness inside your mind, this light will enlighten you to the Truth, you will know that we—on behalf of the Creator—only speak Truth. Remember now, do not stop counting the seconds until your physical eyes are forced to reopen, and gnosis is achieved…understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  He did. As the Arch-Angels had forecast, his eyes inside his mind saw “a thick impenetrable blackness”—in the next moment, his mind began to count out the seconds.

  On the sixty-first second, the most-brilliant sun illuminated in the middle of that darkness, appearing perhaps a million light years away. The space was devoid of any other sources of light—no suns, no moons, no stars—in this black and infinite space, he knew that this sun was the center of it all…not he.

  On the seventy-eighth second, he gazed back toward the sun, observing only that one of its most brilliant rays was now steadily extending out toward him…still another sixty seconds did he mentally count before that ray first caressed his forehead!

  And on the one hundred and thirty-eighth second, his physical eyes had no choice but to instantly reopen, yet his mind, heart and soul no longer had any doubts whatsoever that the ray of light from the sun that had touched him was—in fact—“THE VERY HAND OF THE CREATOR!”

  Baltor was once again standing on the cloud and surrounded by angels! Furthermore, he discovered that he was now wearing his skullcap helmet, armor and boots! His hands reached back over his shoulders, only to feel the solid yet comforting grips of his swords.

  The Arch-Angels said in one voice, “Now that all doubt is gone, think carefully before you speak next, as we will answer two more questions for you.”

  Perhaps ten seconds later, Baltor asked his first question, “What’s to happen to me now?”

  The Arch-Angels answered, “We are going to give you one more chance in ‘the game of life,’ by sending you back to the Ninth Plane of Hell, so that you can fulfill your purpose and rescue your master. Once rescued, he will know what the two of you will have to do as ‘a team,’ in order to stop the Vompareus once and for all; and if everything works right, thus become the heroes to the entire universe…although 99.9999% of the entire population will never even know of your heroic deeds or existence. If, however, he or you die at any time in the future, your games are forever over.”

  “Hmm,” Baltor said quite thoughtfully.

  Nearly ten seconds later, another question formed at the tip of his mind—having telepathically heard it, and considering it a wise question indeed, the angels answered, “Your question was: ‘What’s the point in having good versus evil?”

  Baltor slowly nodded his head in agreement.

  The Arch-Angels answered, “This answer, like all answers, is simple, yet not-so-simple: since the Beginning of Time, the forces of good and evil have combated each other for universal supremacy, with races and factions of all different types and levels. It was a game established by the Creator to see which power is ultimately stronger, all the while testing peoples’ faith and wills on both sides of the game board.”

  After giving Baltor a few moments to contemplate these words, the Arch-Angels added, “At the End of Time, there can and will be only one victorious winner—good or evil. No matter which side wins, in the end, the good and the evil will be separated from one another and judged accordingly—souls of the neutral alignment shall make a choice at this time. The evil will forever be removed from the Creator’s light…if any of the planes of hell; ‘hell’ literally being ‘without the light of God,’ is where evil would prefer to live, then that is the soul’s choice, which choice shall be granted by the Creator. Never shall this game happen again…and forever after shall the two groups remain separated.”

  Baltor asked, “A game, huh? Do you even know the winner?”

  The Arch-Angels responded, “Two more good questions, you ask; nonetheless, neither inquisition will be considered because your two allotted questions have just been answered. All we can suggest is that if you keep on the same path as you are going, we feel confident you will inevitably have all questions answered by the end of your lifespan, or the End of Time, whichever comes first. Good luck to you, son.”

  Not even a second later, Baltor found himself back in the Ninth Plane. Like the dream he had long ago experienced, he now stood in the room with the glowing-red runes written all over the walls, ceiling and floor. In the center of the room lay a human-sized table—and strapped to the table was an unconscious man, badly beaten and tortured. Nobody else was around…yet.

  Baltor rushed over to free Trendon, but enroute he began to wonder if his hands might not be able to physically touch the handcuffs, Trendon’s flesh, or anything at all?

  Deciding to try no matter what, his hand reached out for the cuffs holding the man’s wrist down. Unlike the dream, this time his hand touched both cold cuffs and warm flesh! Therefore, in the next moment, he ripped the first set…the man slightly groaned, but remained steadfastly unconscious.

  Baltor then proceeded to rip off the other set of handcuffs, before making his way over to the man’s feet. As soon as he had removed the final cuff, he next lifted the man off the table, slung him over his shoulder, and concentrated his mind upon the black tower in the Galgaa Jungl
es. This was where he had first met his master nearly two hundred years ago, and only fifty years ago, the apprentice had transformed this very place into his own personal magical rune laboratory.

  Sure enough, a rune appeared in the apprentice’s mind’s eye, and in the next moment, a portal opened up in the middle of the air only a few feet away, revealing the jungle area where his invisible tower still stood on top of the great hill with only prairie grass surrounding it—no trees.

  Without any further delay, he stepped through that portal, shutting it behind him with but a willed thought.

  Yet with another willed thought, the front door (also invisible) to the tower opened, revealing the inside of the door, as well the foyer that was now lit up by torches, revealing a solid spiral staircase led both up and down.

  Once inside, he willed the door closed—it did.

  In the next moment, he teleported them both to the top of the tower, where existed the only bedroom. Once there, he ever-so-gently set the still-unconscious man down onto the bed.

  Taking a closer medical examination at Trendon, Baltor became quite a bit surprised to see that the man’s wounds were healed without a single scratch or scar, yet he was still unconscious.

  Baltor gently asked, “Master…master…can you hear me? It’s me…Baltor. I’ve rescued you from hell—you’re safe now in your tower. Can you hear me?”

  “Ahhh,” Trendon groggily said, not yet having opened his eyes. “Yes, yes I can hear you. I just feel like I’ve come out of a horrible, horrible nightmare…please give me a few seconds to recuperate.”

  Baltor could not help but laugh as he said, “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean…hell is definitely hell! But you’re alive and undamaged, at least physically. I’m sure that you’ll be all right, sir.”

  “I already am, my apprentice,” he said as he sat up and opened his eyes, which pupils revealed prismatic lights that sparkled. “Thank you very much…I shall forever be in your debt.”

  “You are very welcome. By the way, the seven Arch-Angels—on behalf of the Creator—told me that HE now condones and supports the new master race called the Watchers.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just so you are aware, that had it not been for His Divine Intervention, I would not have successfully rescued you on my own, though I was so close to winning near the end. In the end, however, I was double-crossed by the Chief of Devils, which is why the Creator saved me.”

  “Well done, my apprentice…”

  Baltor cleared his throat twice, before adding, “He also told me you would know what to do in order to stop the Vompareus once and for all.”

  “Yes I do,” Trendon replied with confidence. “Although this task will not be easy, not by any stretch of the imagination, I have little doubt we will be successful in the end, especially because you were able to survive the Nine Planes on your own, for the most part. After all, you are here, safe and sound…as am I.”

  “Oh, sir…though I could write an entire book about what happened in those nightmarish planes, not to mention the monsters I saw and/or had to fight, yet there are two things I must say right here and now.”

  “Yes?”

  Baltor hesitated a few seconds before answering, “First, I promised to Tiamat—on my word of honor—that I would make sure that the rod was destroyed…after we’ve locked the Vompareus in their realm. I must abide by my promise, as I am a man of honor.”

  “I understand and respect your honor and promise…yes, we will destroy the rod. That way, there will never again be a threat like this sitting on our doorsteps.”

  “Perfect!”

  Trendon asked, “And the second?”

  Baltor cocked his back before he asked, “What happened to my dear friend, Nemis?”

  “Ah…sad but true, but she is spending her one thousand year sentence with Losifer on the Seventh Plane.”

  Looking a bit confused, Baltor asked, “How is that possible when she died on the Eighth Plane?”

  “Remember we’re talking about hell here. After her body was physically destroyed by Zebul, her soul automatically teleported to Losifer’s plane—she had, after all, made ‘a deal with the devil.’”

  After taking a deep breath through his nose, Baltor breathed out his first two responding words, “I see…. So, what’s going to happen to her once that millennium is over, especially since she’s no longer alive?”

  “That’s a very good question, Baltor…hold on,” Trendon said just before he closed his eyes.

  Only a few moments later, he opened his eyes before answering, “Well, it appears that she will then be sent to the 1st Plane of Heaven until the End of Time, as her lifespan is once-and-for-all over—although she wore the robes of an evil sorceress and performed a lot of black magic in her life, her motives were pure. It is up to the Creator to decide what happens to her for the rest of eternity…”

  A handful of seconds later, Baltor responded, “I see.”

  “Is this a problem?”

  “No, not really. But I am concerned about her welfare, I must be honest.”

  “Baltor, that’s perfectly understandable, especially since you spent years in a timeless abode with this incredibly beautiful, charismatic and intelligent woman. Now I don’t know who you’re attracted to more—she or Brishava—but you’re not even close to retirement.”

  Nodding his head, Baltor replied, “If I had a choice, it would be Brishava. She was my wife…whom I still love very much. It was so wonderful to spend some quality time with her.”

  Trendon nodded his head once, before saying jubilantly, “That’s fantastic! I’m glad for you…”

  “Appreciated.”

  Still smiling, Trendon said, “There’s something else you should know…you haven’t become a Master Watcher, yet. If all works well, it will be upon my retirement that you will have the opportunity to take my place. In addition, if the future allows your apprentice to become a master in ten thousand years from now, once you have retired, you will be free to spend the rest of eternity with your wife! However, I will give you one final opportunity to change your mind and go to her now, although without you, I will most likely lose this war.”

  “I haven’t changed my mind, sir…I’m ready to go with you.”

  “Well, would you like to take one week’s vacation with me on a tropical island, indulging in the lap of luxury…or are you ready to begin planning out our mission to save the universes and realms?”

  Baltor released a deep sigh before answering, “Umm, can we go get a couple of ales and relax at a bar just for a couple of hours…I know I can’t get a buzz from alcohol, but I just want to be in a social setting…yeah?”

  “Sounds like a splendid idea,” Trendon answered with a smile and a nod. His smile dissipated upon looking at his dirty body and torn-up loincloth, and so he said with pursed lips, “No…this will not do.”

  After snapping his fingers one time, his body was not only clean and his curly brown hair neatly groomed and gelled back, yet he was now wearing clean gray robes and boots. “Ready?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Trendon snapped his fingers once again and a portal opened up in the middle of the air.

  The backdrop on the other side of the portal consisted of a night sky that intermixed with a cobblestone alleyway—only about twenty feet wide. On both sides of the alley, there stood a unique-looking, middle-class, one-story home, in which there was a back door located at each unit, yet not a single window.

  The alley intersected with a much-wider cobblestone street perhaps a hundred feet away…yet as of now, there was no traffic or pedestrians. On the far side just beyond the sidewalk, there stood a one-story tall bar, evident not only by the smoke that continuously poured out the chimney, yet by the large sign hanging on the wall above the door that read in the language of Thoriumite: Second Chance Bar and Grill

  After Trendon had gestured with a polite wave of his right hand for Baltor to enter first, he followed
behind—once on the other side, he willed the portal to shut and it obeyed.

  For only a moment did Baltor look back, observing that his master’s eyes were no longer glowing. His gaze then moved forward, before his feet began to walk at a normal pace toward the door of the bar.

  A few steps later, the master walked side-by-side with the apprentice—the closer to the bar they moved, the louder they heard the sounds of someone melodiously playing the flute. Even as they passed across the street, they saw not a single pedestrian or horseback rider or anyone.

  Upon entering the bar, not to anyone’s surprise, it was for the most part empty, except for the five patrons in their fifties or sixties sitting on the barstools at the far end of the bar—two females and three males.

  Standing behind the bar, washing mugs was the barmaid—she appeared to be in her early forties, but held a rare beauty—not just pretty in her face and her striking-blue eyes, but the most striking quality about her was her shoulder-length, curly, vibrant blonde hair. Her black attire consisted of a low-cut, v-necked tunic and short-shorts that accented her curvaceous figure. Besides her knee-high socks and comfortable-looking shoes, she also wore a waist apron, which had the name of the bar imprinted on the front in gold letters.

  Sitting on a barstool in the far-right corner of the building, facing the front door was a man who looked to be in his late fifties, evident by the wrinkles in his skin and his silver hair that hung long enough to be pulled back into a foot-long ponytail. He was a musician playing his flute, while looking upon some sheet music—perhaps a dozen or so sheets of music rested on an angular metallic stand in front of him.

  Without stopping, Baltor and Trendon worked their way over to a corner booth, located opposite the musician. They sat on opposite sides of the booth.

  It seemed only moments later before the barmaid approached the table. With a wide smile of pearl-white teeth, she greeted, “Top of the evening to ya. So what’ll it be?”