I looked down the hallway where Mama had gone. I did not wish to feel that feeling ever again, but something told me leaving her alone to deal with it on her own was the -wrong- thing to do. Perhaps being locked in that wing of the palace, just her and me, had somehow made things worse? I told Father this, but he waved his hand and pooh-pood such silly thoughts from a five year old boy.
"I'll tell you what, son," Father said. "Why don't I teach you how to play your first game of galactic chess? It's important for a future prince to learn means other than brute force to resolve his differences with a rival empire.”
"Will I get to watch you play with Emperor Shay'tan today?" I asked. The incident with Mama was already fading from my mind.
"Not today," Father said. "We don't play -here-, but in the ascended realms. Today I will show you the chessboard that tracks the moves both players have made in our weekly sessions, and then we shall play on a practice board so you do not accidentally move chess pieces around that I do not want cast into the game."
The Cherubim guards fanned out to make sure the palace was empty as we moved towards the innermost wing that overlooked the garden. The hallways had murals depicting different periods from the Alliance's history since Father had ascended the throne. The Cherubim moved to stand at either side of a pair of elaborately carved double-doors, but did not enter as Father led me inside.
The room was not illuminated, but in the center swirled the largest chessboard I had ever seen, multi-layered and changing, the shape of the galaxy, with each star representing a single square within the game. The chess board hummed with energy as though it were alive, as though it -was- the galaxy, and not just a representation of it.
"It's beautiful," I whispered with awe.
"Someday," Father moved towards the side where the stars shone blue and touched a random star, "this will all be -your- empire." The solar system Father had touched appeared in his hand, a dozen planets swirling around it as though it were a real solar system. Father touched one at random, enlarging it, and touched it again, focusing inside a room. In that room people moved about, going about their day.
"Can you see -everything-, Father?" I asked.
"Only what She-who-is wishes for me to see," Father sighed. He pointed to a mural of the goddess who ruled All-That-Is bathed in golden-white light. "The price I pay for remaining behind to shepherd my creations is to remain ignorant. So long as I walk in the material realm, there are rules about how much power I, or the other old gods such as Shay'tan, can wield."
"Because of She-who-is?" My forehead wrinkled up in thought as I regarded the beautiful, gossamer-winged creature whose portrait adorned every room in the palace.
"No," Father pointed to the opposite wall, a horrid, dark wall that not even the light cast off from the chess board could illuminate. "Because of -HIM-."
I stared at the dark wall, but could not see anything but black paint.
"Look closer, son," Father said. "To defeat HIM, you must first -see- him."
As my eyes adjusted, a shape began to coalesce in the darkness. Muscular and beautiful, it was like looking into a negative-picture image of a bat-winged man, the opposite of whatever you thought it was supposed to be. The face which stared out of the wall was not evil, the way I had always imagined Emperor Shay'tan to be, but merely stern.
"Who is he, Father?"
"He-who's-not," Father whispered, as though merely -mentioning- HIS name would bring down the Guardian of the Universe's wrath. "Lord Chaos, the Dark Lord. She-who-is's husband."
I stepped closer and touched the wall, curious to see what lay behind the veil. Much to my surprise it yielded beneath my touch. My hand disappeared and felt cold, but I felt no pain. The vibration that hummed beneath my fingers was different than that of the miniature galaxy which spun within the room. Older, deeper, more powerful than the universe which had been created by She-who-is, and yet it felt as though it were a part of it. Images jumped into my mind, not the horrors one might expect to be conveyed by the Dark Lord, but curiosity that I could see him.
'---Luciferi ... iam vos can animadverto per opaca?---'
The images conveyed through my fingertips were not words for mortal ears to hear. I peered into the darkness and saw an even -larger- chessboard, one which depicted -this- galaxy as nothing but a tiny square amongst countless other squares the same way that Father's chessboard depicted solar systems and planets. To the Dark Lord, old gods such as my Father were nothing but chess pieces in the game HE played against She-who-is.
"HE says that Emperor Shay'tan is more powerful than you are," I spoke aloud, though I don't know what possessed me to say such a terrible truth. "HE says the only reason Shay'tan has not destroyed you before now is because this game of chess amuses the old dragon. HE said he does not mind your intrigues so long as it keeps HER playing HIS game."
"Lucifer!" Father yanked me back from the wall, hyperventilating even though old gods like Father no longer needed to breathe. "Don't touch it. It is … evil!"
The vision faded. Father appeared both angry, and visibly shaken, as though the Dark Lord's words bore the ring of truth. I stared at the pitch-black wall, hoping the HE would appear a second time, but he never did, that one piece of advice all I needed to know about this game my Father was about to teach me.
"-HE- is no such thing." I defended HIM, although I have no idea what caused me to say such a peculiar thing. "HE merely IS."
I touched the wall a second time, but it was just a wall, nothing supernatural about it. My fingers yearned to feel that subtle vibration, but the Dark Lord remained mute, the one time he had spoken to me being one time more than he had ever spoken directly to my Father. I knew this without even thinking about it, the same as I knew how to breathe.
"Come, little prince." Father stared across the chess board towards the far wall where an enormous red dragon had been painted. "Someday this will be -your- empire. It will be up to -you- to play against Shay'tan and keep the Sata'an Empire at bay. He's very smart, you know, for a dragon."
Perhaps ten minutes ago, I would have seen the exact same thing every other Alliance citizen had been told from birth to see, a fierce red dragon out to conquer every planet in the galaxy. Today, however, I saw the old dragon differently than the history lessons Dephar drilled into my head.
Some of the chess pieces glowed red in color, worlds that had fallen under Sata'anic rule. Others glowed blue, even -my- young eyes educated enough to see those pieces included Haven and the other Alliance worlds. But the largest portion glowed no color at all, empty squares that neither empire had yet claimed. I remembered the glimpse the Dark Lord had showed me of the larger chess square that included Father's galaxy. Shay'tan was a pawn, the same as Father.
The spinning galaxy called to me, urging me to take a closer look. Between the blue stars ruled by Father and red ones ruled by Shay'tan lay a vast area of stars that were neither red nor blue, but silver like the color of my eyes. One star beckoned more than all the others, so bright that when you looked at it the right way, it outshone the other stars. Without thinking -why-, I reached towards the star which called my name.
"What are these silver stars, Father?" The name 'Tyre' appeared on the one which beckoned to me.
Father touched that square. A solar system appeared with seven planets. With a whirl of his hand, a facsimile of that solar system moved onto a small table set up beneath the picture of the big red dragon. He gestured for me to sit down. For as long as I had been alive, Father had been teaching me to play chess, but for some reason his hawkish expression gave me chills. Had my intemperate words angered him?
"This is Tyre-4," Father pointed to one of the worlds. "A rebel leader has consolidated his forces here and has been luring away a significant number of my Alliance forces. He is a blasphemer. Tell me, Lucifer. If you were me, how would you deal with him?"
There was hostility in Father's expression that I had never seen before, his golden eyes staring at me as though -I- was
the traitor. Me? What was -I- supposed to tell him? I was only five years old?
"Why don't you just send in the Leonids?" I had never met a Leonid in person, but Dephar had taught me about the four branches of Father's military. Everything about the hybrid armies excited me, but Leonids were the bravest of the brave.
Father gestured to the mural of Emperor Shay'tan.
"As you just pointed out," Father said, "Shay'tan's forces outnumber ours. This rebel leader has chosen a location close enough to the Sata'an Empire that Shay'tan will retaliate if I send in my armies. Tell me, Lucifer. How would -you- root out this traitor?"
Father's eyes burned copper, as though -I- was the one he was furious at for rebelling and not this leader. I glanced behind me, wondering if somebody else had come into the room, and was dismayed to see nothing but the empty black wall. Oh! Why had I not kept my mouth shut and instead of blurting out the first thing that had popped into my mind?
"Wh-why don't you just send an assassin to kill him?"
Father claimed he used the courts to resolve disputes, but several months ago I had snuck into Dephar's library and stolen one of his history books which told stories about how the Cherubim helped Father avoid wars by 'cutting off the head of the snake.' Dephar didn't have any idea I could read well enough to understand those musty old tomes, but I found Dephar's daily lessons to be boring. Each night, as soon as Dephar left, I did my -own- research into Father's epic battles, including many not listed in the regular history books.
Father engaged in the same intrigues as Emperor Shay'tan did. He just liked to keep it quiet.
"Why -not- send in a Cherubim Master?"
"I can't!" Father hissed. "There's been a complication."
"What complication?" My lip trembled. In all the time I had been alive, Father had never raised his voice, but when he looked at me now, I felt as though it was not -me- he saw, but this rebel leader. I -saw- how much he hated him. I could -feel- Father's hatred in my bones.
"Your mother!" Father towered over me like some angry god out of the testamentary teachings of She-who-is, a very different version of my father than the one I had grown up with.
Dephar's secret history books said Father had been like this in his younger days, but this was the first time I had ever seen it for myself. -I- had made him angry by foolishly repeating what the Dark Lord had said about him! I began to cry.
"Tell me, Lucifer," Father gestured at the solar system he had set up to play against. "Since you seem to agree with this rebel that I cannot win a war fought on two different fronts, how would you root out this traitor?"
There was a commotion in the hallway outside the game room, the Cherubim guard's raised voices. The door burst open.
"Don't you -dare- draw my son into your intrigues!" Mama shrieked. "He is only five years old!"
She flew across the room and pulled me into her arms, the dark-winged crow that beat her wings against the hawk a different version of my mother than the poor, sad creature who had run sobbing to her room less than an hour before. She pulled me to stand before that dark, black wall, as though she could pull me -through- it to safety. The thought popped into my mind that Mama's wings were almost as dark as the Dark Lord's.
The angry red glare faded from Father's eyes.
"I was only teaching him to play galactic chess, Asherah," Father sighed. "The boy has been pleading with me for the past two years. I thought … after your breakdown this morning … it was the only gift I had left to offer him after you ruined his birthday."
Mama pulled me against her breast so tight it scrunched my wings, but I could feel her anger drain as she realized Father told the truth. Just as my 'gift' was to see what was in other people's minds whenever they spoke, Mama's gift was to feel whatever truth lay within another person's heart … especially mine. No matter how far away I was or how minor the calamity which caused me to cry out for my mother, she always came for me. Even when she was having a sad spell.
Father's expression was filled with remorse as he sat back down at his game of chess. It occurred to me that Father led a lonely life, spending eternity with no other creature smart enough to keep him amused except for his weekly chess match against Emperor Shay'tan.
"If you want to teach him to play chess," Mama hissed. "Teach him to play against -him.-" Mama pointed to the mural of the big red dragon. "Not…"
She did not say -who- they were so upset about, but even -I- was smart enough to figure out she was talking about this rebel leader … and keep my mouth shut this time! I resolved right then and there that -I- would never let Father down as this rebel leader had! Ever!
With an indignant snort, Mama dragged me towards the door, leaving Father alone with his chessboard. I glanced back at the mural of the big red dragon, the one the Dark Lord had shown was nothing more than a pawn. My wings shook with excitement. Father would teach me to match wits against the smartest creature in the galaxy after himself!
I could not help but wonder … what was Emperor Shay'tan -really- like?
Chapter 14
Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.09 AE
Sata'an Empire: Hades-6
Emperor Shay'tan
Shay'tan
"Oh-o-o-o-oh … so good!" Shay'tan moved his considerable girth so Arrakis could get at the crick that had developed along his dorsal crest. "Ahh … there!"
His other wives giggled. With an exaggerated flourish of his tail, he invited the rest to climb upon his back and grind their feet into his aching muscles. Some questioned why an old dragon such as himself needed forty-six wives, especially since in his preferred form he was too big to mate with any of them, but there were more ways to experience marital pleasure than intercourse. He snaked his tail to caress another wife, Thuban's cheek and trailed it down to slap her in the fanny.
"My Lord!" Thuban giggled.
Her sister-wives followed Arrakis's example, clamoring up onto his back and massaging every inch of his body, including his leathery wings. Oh … that felt so good. Some days he just loved being a god.
"A little more to the left, Giansar," Shay'tan coaxed his newest wife, a pretty blue-skinned Marid from a colony he had recently wrested from the Free Marid Confederation. "Dig in your heels like you mean it."
With a satisfied rumble, he shut his eyes and plotted his next 50 chess moves. Now that Hashem had pulled his head out of his backside, the race was on to see which empire could get resources to the planet. But while Hashem didn't have a clue where Earth was, Shay'tan already had an outpost. He burst into laughter, a deep, rumbling sound that shook the foundations of his palace.
"What pleases you, my lord?" Edasich asked, the most comely of his wives, a perfect genetic specimen in every way. A perfectly engineered specimen, though she didn't know that.
"I sent every amenity I could think of along with my armada to ensure humans have no desire to side with Hashem … including kitchen sinks!"
"You are forever wise, my lord," Edasich said. She might not be the brightest of his wives, but ooh! Could her hands ever caress the kinks out of his muscles!
His chest rumbled in a contented purr, like a gigantic sixty-foot-long red-scaled cat … with wings. He could almost see the look on Hashem's face when he was forced to pit his genetically engineered super-soldiers against their own root-race. Hashem's hybrid armies were dying out from too much inbreeding. They were desperate to reproduce with their own untainted root race, not kill them.
The opening and shutting of his chamber door distracted him from his pleasures.
"Yes?" Shay'tan growled, less than pleased at being disturbed.
"Your Eminence," his elderly scribe said in a thin, weak voice. "The Assistant Minister of Agriculture is here per your command."
"Very well," Shay'tan grumbled. "Send him in."
His wives skittered off his back, grabbing their burqa's. His newest wife, Giansar, hesitated, still unaccustomed to covering up when in the presence of an unrelated male. His head wife, Arrakis, chastise
d her. With a fit of giggles, all forty-six wives scurried out of the room, leaving him to conduct the Empire's business. With a groan that had more to do with being overburdened than any physical pain, he rose and pulled on his heavily bejeweled robes of state.
The Assistant Minister of Agriculture, Utbah, stepped inside and stood at attention, his tail tucked formally along his right side. He'd come wearing his dress uniform, a bit tight across the belly as Sata'anic lizards had a tendency towards portliness once they reached middle age, but otherwise dignified as he tasted the air with his forked tongue. Proudly displayed across Utbah's chest were the medals Shay'tan himself had given the man for valor, along with a bejeweled silk sash denoting him as a member of the upper echelon of Sata'an society.
"You may approach," Shay'tan rumbled. "What did you find?"
"If Ba'al Zebub is skimming more than the acceptable 10% graft," Utbah said, "I have been unable to trace it."
"So he's clean?" Shay'tan exhaled with relief. Ba'al Zebub was one of his oldest and most trusted advisors. He trusted him implicitly … or at least he had until that vague sense of uneasiness had prompted him to look into things.
Utbah hesitated, his gold-green eyes staring down at his feet as though he hated to be the bearer of bad news.
"Out with it," Shay'tan growled.
"It's just a feeling," Utbah said. "Nothing concrete. And nothing I can tie to Lord Zebub."
Once, twice, thrice Utbah's tongue flitted out, tasting the air, the instinctive gesture of a Sata'anic lizard that sensed something they could not quite interpret.
"The last time you had one of these feelings," Shay'tan rumbled, "you warned me there were resources flooding into Shemijaza's Third Empire that could not possibly have originated from this galaxy. Speak your mind."
"I am not an expert in industry or the movement of troops," Utbah said. "But one thing I do know is the cyclical nature of crops. According to your accounting records, not a single penny of tribute has disappeared in more than 35 years."
Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 15
