The Kakos Realm Collection

by Christopher D Schmitz

  “To be a Christian means you walk a narrow path of light which leads to eternal life and joy while beckoning to those outside of this path: those who dwell in darkness and hate the light. These people of darkness hate us because of what we represent: a light that destroys the darkness they love, a darkness which eventually consumes them.

  “I won’t sugarcoat it. Some of us will die, many of us might be hurt, but we will live in the truth and have the blessings of our Lord. I would much rather endure the punishments of man and enjoy the afterlife in the peace and pleasure of God than receive the approval and praise of mankind and ekthro.”

  Kevin’s counselors nodded their assent.

  “Our own lives are forfeit,” he continued. “This is war and we fight for a higher ideal. I go into this battle each day choosing to remain steadfast in my calling to Christ, with the knowledge that the war may require me to lay down my own life or to endure hardships.

  “This is how I want you handle those who question their commitment: speak gently to those who fear the persecutions that will undoubtedly come from the Luciferian church.

  “Remind them that our bodies are just temporary vessels meant to contain the light of Christ. When we exit this mortal life, we enter into our immortal one; though this passage might be unpleasant, we need not fear it. We must do the work that the Lord called us to: proclaim His Word and draw lost souls to Him before it is too late.”

  Kevin indicated that Rashnir should stand. He explained how those believers that had been baptized in Spirit had access to the sword of the Lord. Kevin explained how they could use it to study the Word of God, but also use it for protection.

  Rashnir demonstrated for the group. Each of the others in the circle also had a marking on their arm, but only noticed it after Kevin mentioned it. Following Jorge’s instructions, they were each able to draw a blade from thin air. Each sword summoned was perfectly tailored to the size and needs of the one who held it.

  After the initial awe of this discovery wore off, Kevin cautioned his crew against entering the city. The central park had become a hostile zone to any of those who had converted.

  This afternoon, Luciferians planned to hold the memorial service for the wicked King Harmarty. Kevin advised them to avoid the service. He expected that this memorial would stir up an anti-Christian sentiment in the population of Grinden.

  The meeting closed with each member of the council contributing a few words to a corporate prayer. The overall sense was that Kevin had chosen the right persons for his leadership council.

  While the townsfolk planned to honor their dead, Kevin planned to lead a water baptism ceremony so that his flock could publicly pledge their allegiance to the Lord.

  ***

  In the afternoon, crowds gathered throughout Grinden, hoping to get a glimpse of the new king. The throng swelled into the largest assembly the townsfolk had yet recorded. As if in mockery to Kevin’s recent meetings, the entire center of the city had been transformed into a carnival of sorts. As previously, vendors and entrepreneurs of every sort turned out to cater to the desires and lusts of the assembled masses.

  A small military regiment marched through heralding King Rutheir. They made a human barrier to work as crowd control and they directed vendors with kiosks and carts to the edge of the assembly so that more people could gather in close to the memorial service.

  All morning, workers busied themselves building a stage over the top of the rock which Kevin had preached from. The platform stood about the height of a man and spanned wide enough to hold several people. Almost anyone could see the speaker, even from the very edges of the area. The preparations were nearly complete when people began trickling in from many areas, near and far, responding to the bells of the nearby Temple.

  Those faithful to the Order expected that they might receive some kind of blessing for attending the ceremony; those associated with the church but not regularly faithful were warned that they might provoke mischievous under-demons to wrath if they did not attend the memorial and pay respect to the deceased King Harmarty and to Absinthium: a Luciferian arch-mage of the thirty-third degree.

  As the festivities got underway, local shops closed momentarily so that they might observe; most stores had set up open-air booths to entice any passersby as they lingered and loitered earlier in the day.

  Luciferian monks surrounded the gathering at all strategic points and at obvious positions as they watched for Christian intrusion. The look-outs’ shaved heads and tattoos labeled them as combat trained monks and each of them appeared to be on high alert for some perceived threat—perhaps hoping to be the first to spot an enemy or identify a reason to put their talents into service.

  Frinnig watched over his nephew, a promising spell caster, despite his youth and low rank in the Order. The boy, although you might certainly mistake that label by looking at him, had been charged with manipulating the elements to keep the populace comfortable so that weather would not distract from the arch-mage’s message.

  The weather grew to perfection through the day; the right amount of sun offset a slight breeze. The gentle wind carried coolness with it, yet it made no noise that might dampen the words of the speaker.

  At the very southern perimeter of the amassed crowd a small band of Christians spied out the happening. Rashnir towed Jibbin, who firmly grasped his cloak and refused to be left behind, and scouted out the monks’ observation points in order to avoid them.

  Kyrius, Zeh-Ahbe’, and Shinna followed, making sure to stay well out of the way of the crowds so that they would not be noticed by any roving monkish security. Shinna accompanied them primarily because of her gender. Just in case they were spotted and needed to fight, she could scoop up Jibbin and scurry off unnoticed, except as an old woman fleeing the scene of a battle and carrying a child to safety.

  The spies watched as best as they were able, trying to avert their eyes from some of the more lewd or malevolent acts of entertainment. A horn blew and after much pomp and ceremony, the local head of Grinden’s Luciferian Temple climbed onto the stage to address the crowd.

  Frinnig introduced himself to those who were not familiar because of distance or lapsed commitment. His booming voice echoed across the park and turned ears towards the stage; a sea of heads surrounded the stage like a field littered with dandelions. Frinnig held a cone shaped instrument in his hands which helped project his voice across the field. He slowly turned in all directions as he spoke so that the people could hear him speak even in the back.

  Frinnig heaped praises upon the reputation of their new king, Rutheir, and briefly spoke of his utmost devotion to the teachings and ministry of the prophet, Absinthium. He also exhorted the faithful and those devoted to the Luciferian religion, encouraging others to renew or begin a pattern of frequent attendance at the temple.

  “We must remain committed to the most sacred fundamentals of Luciferianism. Our beloved angel of light fights against our enemy even as we speak. The spurned God, Yahweh, seeks vengeance against us for glorifying ourselves, but we will rise triumphant… if we lend our supplications to the spiritual cause. Even now the forces of Yahweh are breaking down walls, trying to reach us here, attacking us even in our homes.

  “Perhaps you have heard of these krist-chins, perhaps you have not. We must remember our roots, people. So many of us have fallen away to such a degree that the forces of Lucifer have weakened; your faithfulness has waned over the years and now, even now, there are people in our lands who blatantly disregard us entirely and heretically proclaim opposite doctrines of all that we hold true.

  “I have digressed, though, and I apologize. You are not here to see me speak, but to listen to the words of our new king and those of Absinthium, the prophet. I do ask you, if you are a loyal man or ekthro, I implore you to attend our services. We will be having services each day, every other hour for the next week. Many extra monks now reside within the temple walls to help you during this time and explain our religious
tenets to the curious. This is a formal call to recommitment. But we are here today to remember a fallen king. Let his death remind you of how easy it could be for everything we care about to be destroyed by the acts of a vengeful God; we must harden our resolve lest we too fall.

  “King Rutheir,” Frinnig bowed briefly and handed the vocal projector to Rutheir.

  The king accepted the tool and addressed the crowd in a similar manner. He recounted several warm stories in remembrance of Harmarty, none of which were true. He lied blatantly and openly, speaking of how Harmarty had intervened or judged in the favor of folks or helped his subjects out of care and concern for them.

  Rashnir hissed under his breath as he listened. “Most of these are old stories about Harmarty’s father, just twisted slightly,” he whispered to his companions.

  “King Harmarty felt that he had an obligation, a duty, to protect those people he’d been raised to watch over,” Rutheir said, playing on the memories of the wicked king’s much beloved father. The crowd appeared sympathetic to his statements and actually believed the lies that Harmarty had been a benevolent and kind ruler. Rutheir grinned as he saw the looks on the faces in the crowd; he was quite certain the arch-mage might have had something to do with their level of receptivity.

  “You see, Harmarty cared for his subjects, and I follow him in that. I look across this multitude and I see more than just people before me; I see duty and obligation. I see in you my very purpose for existence and I must tell you that I agree with my friend here, Frinnig the Priest.

  “We see a danger brewing in our land. There are people who are trying to harm you. I cannot, with my sense of duty, allow you to go about your daily lives with this threat looming over you; you must be informed. I believe this krist-chin cult is treacherous.

  “I’ve seen convincing evidence that the cardinal members of this cult were the perpetrators who assassinated my predecessor in his very bedroom while he slept. While the information is convincing to me, those charged with investigating it remained lax to inquisition one of their own. I am speaking of Rashnir, who apparently still has friends in the Rogis’ Rangers; they refuse to satisfactorily investigate the circumstances of this murder. They might even be in league with this cult. I have seen to it that those who remain as true servants of justice have been moved from the Rangers into other sects of the guild.

  “No longer should Grinden fear that murderers will go unpunished and thieves remain free. The ruling council of Ninda relinquished all claims and allowed me to officially annex Grinden as a district of Jand. Soon an actual military garrison and even a soldiers’ training academy will be located right here in Grinden. Changes are underway… changes that should have been made long ago.”

  Rutheir surveyed the audience. He still had them right where he wanted them and so he revisited his pet topic.

  “It is the opinion of all who have examined the workings, motivations, and actions of this cult that they desire control of the crown—my crown; they want to rule Jand themselves. For the very protection of our country, and in the interest of your protection, I am endorsing the Luciferian Church as the official religion of our state. I hereby give the church complete sovereignty and full power and authority to act as they best see fit. This is a symbiotic union. I have never known a Luciferian affiliate to act outside the interests of the crown, nor known one to try taking advantage of those they’ve pledged to help.”

  A murmur of agreement rose from the people. Heads nodded in assent—even heads who had lost much because of the Order’s bloody and greedy history.

  “This is my personal promise to you,” Rutheir’s voice rose, demanding the attention of the people and playing on the growing hype. “I will act in your best interest. I am aware of the large scope of events taking place and I vow that I will eliminate this cult and protect your children from their dangerous influence. I will also work to provide our children—our kingdom, with a better future.” Rutheir’s eyes twinkled as the populace cheered at a veiled promise to expand their kingdom through military might.

  He found the crowd’s mood extremely agreeable. Rutheir noticed Absinthium rise to the stage beside him. The king was sure the arch-mage had cast some sort of spell over the people; most large crowds could never be so pliable, otherwise. Despite an audience of several thousand, he could not spot a single expression of dissention.

  “Loyal subjects, may I now present to you our most distinguished guest. This man has aided us in the process of perfecting our country. Here is the thirty-third degree Luciferian arch-mage and Chief of the High Council, Absinthium.” Rutheir’s voice seemed to boom and echo during the announcement; the mage refused the vocal projector, using magic instead to project his voice.

  The weathered old man stood upon the dais and smiled at the crowd. He leaned heavily upon his oddly gnarled staff.

  He spoke with a kind and grandfatherly voice. Warm and subtle, though his words remained supernaturally audible far beyond what they should have been.

  The arch-mage lunged into an interesting discourse on why the people should remain devoted to the Luciferian faith and support it on a variety of levels. He delved into deep areas of lore concerning battles within supernatural realms; the dramatic account kept the crowd riveted with curiosity and stitched with empathy. He proved that Kevin was not the only storyteller to visit this park.

  After a short tirade, he attacked his enemies. “These krist-chins are a very real threat to all the land, and even to Heaven. Our birthright, which is to rule over Yahweh’s Heaven and to oppress the enemies of our souls, is in jeopardy. The age-old battle has long been contained within the supernatural and in the Earth realms, but it has now come to our very doorstep. Frinnig, in his passionate statements, is correct in placing much of the blame upon those who have fallen away from the faith—I can see the looks on some of your faces: it is guilt—the battle has been allowed to break free of those old boundaries because we have been far too lax in the support of our heavenly champion. Fear not; you may still help reclaim the war!

  “I am officially requesting the presence of each and every one of you in our local services. We need your support, and you can’t afford not to give it!

  “I know what many of you believe. Some of you think that our faith is nothing, that we Luciferians are deluded men and women of wishful thinking, or perhaps that we made this all up. For those among you who are naysayers, I will give you a demonstration of my powers: powers that are only available to the select few in our monasteries… those who are given access to study the books of power and books of spells that were written by the demons and even by Lucifer himself. There are books that show wizards how to manipulate the energy and magic lines interwoven into reality, bringing about miraculous results!”

  The wizard spoke a few guttural words in an incomprehensible language and clouds billowed out of nothingness. They descended to cloak the mage in a pillar of darkness; it twisted and churned like an ethereal vortex. With a loud shout and a thunderclap the pillar burst outward in an explosion of mist and flew back skyward, transmuting into a flock of birds that flew off into the distant horizons.

  Most people were awed at the display. Absinthium’s voice changed to something much more guttural and twisted, “Some of you are still thinking that this is a simple magic trick. ‘Smoke and mirrors’ you might be saying. Well then, let me give you a true display of magics that cannot be denied nor explained except by one who knows the way of the supernatural power lines. Then, let you all be convinced of the truth—that there is true power and authority only in the path of Lucifer.”

  He stretched his staff over the men and woman in the crowd who stood in the direct path between the stage and the door to the Luciferian temple. With a wave of the staff came a release of power that pushed the crowd members aside, forming a clear pathway between the dais and the temple gate.

  The large double doors opened from the inside. A shackled woman stood there, flanked by two uncomfortable
looking combat monks dressed in ceremonial regalia. Each of her guards carried a wicked pair of reaper-shaped, ritual kamas in case the need to permanently subdue her arose. They silently escorted the submissive woman to the stage.

  At the far edge of the audience, Shinna gasped and whispered, “I know her. She is one of us!”

  With jaw and eyes set, Kyrius reached out his hand planning to draw his sword and charge to her rescue. Zeh-Ahbe’ stayed him with a hand, not wanting a rash action to throw away so many lives in the hopes of rescuing one.

  Kyrius relaxed and the former werewolf leader looked to Rashnir for confirmation of the decision. Rashnir nodded his agreement. They were looking for information, not for a fight.

  As she approached, Absinthium explained to the crowd. “This woman is a known krist-chin. Last night, several of our faithful took it upon themselves to express to these cultists that they are unwelcome here. This was not an officially endorsed action and these faithful devotees took it upon themselves to do as they saw fit. After urging the heretics to recant their cultic beliefs, and a subsequent refusal, they punished several of these dissidents.” He grinned deviously. “I do agree with their motives and methods.

  “This woman was apprehended near an alley where we found a group of our faithful adherents who had been slaughtered—dismembered in the very streets of the city they were trying to protect. We presume these fallen heroes were murdered by this krist-chin woman. She must have been accompanied by a great many others who escaped, yet she denies this.

  “The people of Grinden are lucky to have the likes of Pinchôt protecting the city streets. The former Ranger and new head of the Narsh Barbarians was one of the men who apprehended her at the scene of the crime.

  “What do you people, the rightful heirs of this fair city, believe should be this woman’s punishment?”

  Cries arose from the crowd all at once; the clamoring voices demanded her execution. The woman walked placidly before the stage and presented herself. Her escorts left her, fading into the crowd as the pathway to the stage filled in again with bodies. The multitude cleared a large circle around her.