The Kakos Realm Collection

by Christopher D Schmitz

  The Christians, split into three primary groups as they exited Grinden. Kevin’s group, the most visible and notorious of these, allowed themselves to be escorted beyond the kingdom of Jand by the wary Luciferian influenced military. Armies from the Nindan government closed off the eastern route, and Kevin settled his encampment on the vertex where four countries joined borders. They waited at the crossroads, praying for direction and guidance as they sought out their next step.

  With the armies of Jand and Ninda camping in plain view of the Christians, only Lol and Gleend remained viable options. Kevin, accompanied by many of his friends including Rondhale, Nipanka, Werthen, Rah’-be, and Sil-tarn, await direction. Each of his friends intends to take splinter groups in different paths, spreading their “heresy” like seeds in the wind.

  The warrior, Rashnir, leads another group of Christians. Skirting the southern barrens below Grinden, they sneak into the country of Ninda with another team led by his werewolf friend Zeh-Ahbe’.

  The third cluster, heading southwest, also skirted the barrens, leaving for the opposite direction. Mirrored on one edge by the Quey forest, the sea buffers them on the other, a corridor of relative safety and substantial concealment. Ersha, Drowdan, Gans, and Thim lead teams west: some destined for the harsh culture of Zipha, others expecting reprisal once the powers that rule Jand discover that the enemy remains within their borders.

  Whichever ignorant commander ordered the escort of Kevin's men beyond the borders will face a likely execution. The archmage's order had been to shadow their movements and stall for as long as possible; the Luciferian leader intended to contain them and eventually annihilate whatever threat they posed. Now, any surveillance of their enemies had been thwarted.

  War still rages within the Babel heavens, a place known as Paradise, though perhaps glibly. Demonic usurpers contend for beh’-tsah’s power and two main groups vie against each other. Still, only beh’-tsah realizes the danger of an unleashed power of the Holy Spirit. He is forced to wage two separate wars, each on different fronts; losing either fight means his undoing, perhaps even the destruction of the Gathering itself and the unlocking of the eldritch fetters that bind the realm together as they allow the demons to harvest its arcane energies.

  More than anything else the dark lord of the Gathering desires to dominate his enemies. He wants to flaunt his power before the Most High and parade his accomplishments before even hay-lale’. For now, the demon-lord beh-tsah’ can only take pleasure in gloating to his tortured, trophy prisoner.

  High above the lower firmament, upon the dusky clouds of the Babble Heavens, the emaciated angel Karoz remains clapped within brazen gyves. Fettered by supernatural chains, he languishes in the dungeons underneath the Lord of the Gathering’s throne, deep within the Babel Keep… a place where no holy thing should be forced to visit but where he has remained for millennia.

  Chapter One

  “That’s just a rumor,” the human spat as he leaned across the bounty officer’s table, disagreeing with Herang, the charismatic elf who operated it in conjunction with the Order.

  “No it’s not,” the elf insisted. “And I heard that it was Khadron himself riding atop the wooly mammoth. Riding west he was with a full complement of his best Mankran berserkers.” Herang hushed his voice when he noticed the barbarian in a troupe nearby.

  The Mankran locked eyes with the elf and then continued on his way. Ironically, he was only the third tallest of his hunting party; the other two were something else entirely. The locally renowned company of Nephilim and Phoenix continued through the courtyard at the Temple of Light in pursuit of their next bounty.

  “Hogwash!” the human exclaimed.

  Herang stepped back in mock offense. “Sheech! Sheech, come tell Jael that I’m right.”

  A massive humanoid ducked through the doorway and stood up straight. The giant stood nearly ten feet tall. Sheech stretched in the sunlight and nodded. “Herang is right, Jael. I told him the story myself.”

  Jael waved his words away. “That doesn’t make it true! I heard the exact same story in the pub two days ago!”

  Sheech leaned over the countertop, daring the diminutive human to challenge him. “I saw it with my own eyes. I was in Paradise on business when I spotted him—the warlord chieftain Khadron the Terrible. His mammoth pulled a giant ark mounted with sleigh rails and his crew of berserkers rode atop of it. I tell you, Khadron was nearly as big as any of my kin.”

  Jael almost spat with laughter. “A wooly mammoth you say! How did he get a mammoth into Paradise?” He shook his head skeptically, “I think that renowned Anakim constitution failed you—it sounds more like a booze-addled dream than the usual love stories this one tries to convince me of,” Jael pointed a mocking thumb to Herang.

  “Hey!” Herang protested when a messenger interrupted them, yanking a crate off the rickshaw he’d pulled up to the bounty office.

  Jael chuckled and walked away, letting the two get back to work.

  “What’s this?” Herang asked.

  The messenger shrugged. “Dunno—but it came from the Council of Four.”

  Herang whistled. “Straight from the top.” Its contents had to be important if they’d come from the office of the ruling arch-mages.

  Sheech cracked the wooden box open and raised an eyebrow. Herang snatched the packing notes and read them.

  “New orders,” the elf said, taking out a fistful of printed flyers. “These are the highest priority hits ordered by the Luciferian Church.”

  Sheech looked at the faces drawn on the pages. “These puny humans are more dangerous than vampires?”

  “Apparently so,” Herang said and began stacking the handbills.

  The giant shrugged and began tacking the bounty pages on the top row of the advertisement wall where the elf couldn’t reach.

  “I don’t ask questions or think,” Herang said, “I just get paid to organize the hitmen.”

  ***

  grr’Shaalg stalked through his underground domicile while making the final preparations for a secret meeting. His brother tyr-aPt, one of ten goblin kings, would soon arrive in Under-Grinden.

  He quietly reveled in the fact that his brother was not the real king. tyr-aPt had always only been a mere pawn, a puppet ruler whose strings were pulled only by his devious brother grr’Shaalg.

  [Var-shNarr!] snapped grr’Shaalg, [go and retrieve a body for our feast. Speak to no-one.]

  [Just one body?] The majordomo found the request out of sorts, given his master’s ravenous appetite as of late. All goblin rulers leaned towards gluttony.

  grr’Shaalg glared back at his minion in response. He had made his command.

  Var-shNarr bowed and silently departed the spacious dwelling; his padded feet made a distinct slapping noise against the damp, stone floors as he hurried away. grr’Shaalg had commanded him to silence and Var-shNarr knew better than to break that trust for fear of his life and the lives of his kindred.

  grr’Shaalg smiled toothily. He may have become the most powerful goblin to ever exist, he vainly speculated—at least he would be by the time his plans came to fruition. Once his plans began unfolding in real time his power would be undisputable.

  As Var-shNarr meandered through Under-Grinden's network of tunnels, he saw that clean-up efforts were already well underway. Just days ago, a massive cave-in wrecked a great portion of the new goblin city. Three-quarters of Grinden's Luciferian Temple had collapsed and sunk into the subterranean haven.

  Despite the destruction, Under-Grinden still remained an impressive sight: a marvel of underground engineering. Its glorious, massive caverns were dug from deep within the bedrock like a hollow globe and it lay directly underneath the central park at Grinden’s center. This was the most ambitious goblinoid project to date.

  The immense, stone spire spanning from the floor to the ceiling of the subterranean cavity looked like a jaded butte, like some kind of giant, stone, apple-core. Undoub
tedly, the Babble Spire in Briganik had inspired it in part. Around the tower looped Under-Grinden's access to the surface-world where a rocky stairway exited into the surface world's park high above them. The spire also housed the dwellings of the elite. Only the wealthy and affluent members of the goblin hierarchy were permitted domicile space on the core.

  Farther towards edges of the orb, the lesser goblins' homes protruded like hives. At odd places in the elliptically shaped walls, huge tunnels opened in different directions. Each connected to the mysterious goblin super-highway.

  Var-shNarr arrived at the massive mound of debris when a sentry near the wreckage stopped him. The bodies of dead men were reserved for privileged members of goblin society. Only certain ones had access to the tasty treasures buried in the rubble of the cave-in. The fetid odor of bloating bodies intermingled with the musty air of the cavern and made Var-shNarr’s mouth water.

  [Halt!] a guard commanded. The sentry grabbed Var-shNarr by the hair and twisted his head around to examine his cheek and neck; he exposed a branded mark that labeled Var-shNarr as grr’Shaalg’s slave. [State your business.]

  Limbs and parts of human bodies hung limp, peeking out from the stony rubble heap. Arms and faces distended and swelled with the macabre distension of rot and decay. Daring members of the lowest castes had previously rummaged through the rubbish, exposing the bodies. The smallest ones, young folk and children—would be among the tastiest of the buried morsels; they had already been snuck away, hence the need for the sentinels.

  [My master wants to eat,] he said matter-of-factly. The sentry released Var-shNarr to his duties.

  He dug through the collapsed chantry rubble until his sensitive nose caught the pungent scent of a nearby corpse. He quickly exhumed the cadaver; with much grunting and sweat, he carried it back to his master's hole.

  As Var-shNarr returned, lugging the carrion upon his back, he spotted the glimmering armor worn by the troop of royal bodyguards who standing outside the entry. King tyr-aPt had apparently arrived while he was out gathering the meal.

  The slave dragged in the body inside and laid it upon his master’s table. grr’Shaalg and tyr-aPt had engaged in small talk as they waiting for their feast to arrive and they stopped to look at him while he came. Var-shNarr stood at attention while grr’Shaalg looked the body over.

  [Very good,] grr’Shaalg grinned wickedly, pleased with the cadaver positioned haphazardly before him. [A most excellent selection, Var-shNarr,] the goblin praised him. [In fact, I recognize this man; he was once the head priest at the Temple above.]

  The shadow ruler grinned as he scanned Frinnig’s body with a mischievous eye. [You have been a good servant to me, Var-shNarr, and you know my distaste for potential loose ends. This meeting must remain absolutely secret.] With uncanny speed, grr’Shaalg snatched his surprised servant by the throat and choked the life from him. [Besides, I’ve always preferred my prey fresh.]

  As the light died behind Var-shNarr’s eyes, he suddenly understood his master’s command to keep silent, also the instruction to recover just one body. His vision blurred fuzzy and then blackened; his spastic struggles ceased.

  grr’Shaalg tossed the warm body up next to the cold Luciferian. He and his brother set upon the meal before getting down to business. Their treacherous trade required utmost secrecy lest it ignite a civil war in the goblin realms below the surface.

  ***

  Angry clouds boiled high above the mountains of Briganik. Across the plains of the second firmament, and through the hallways beneath the throne-room of the Lord of the Gathering, a solitary figure stalked the ancient corridors. The cloak-shrouded creature shimmered between the spirit realm and physical reality as needed in order to avoid the posted sentries: an untraceable wraith passing through forbidden places. He was skilled enough to avoid even those piercing gazes of the demons and spirit creatures who could peer into both realities.

  The watcher ambled around the bends in the corridor until he exited the demon lord beh’-tsah’s compound. His steps brought him to the Grand Stairway where he solidified and appeared as if he was just another faithful Luciferian on a pilgrimage to Paradise… except this pilgrim accessed places others were never allowed to go. Without remorse he violated the privacy of the Gathering, accessing the secret vaults of the overlord’s keep.

  Grinning, the figure descended the broad, spiral staircase that telescoped upwards and through the Babel Tower. It would eventually bring him to the muddy surface of the abysmal realm wherein he’d been trapped for so long. He paid witness to so many recent events in the Babel Heavens: things that gave him pause for thought and gave him a renewed capacity for hope.

  He desperately wanted to reach his destination, but he’d long ago vowed not to use his phenomenal powers and so he remained on foot. At least The Watcher had a long walk to sort out his thoughts.

  Despite his conversation with the secret prisoner and the knowledge he’d stolen from the council, he still needed more information. The hidden one needed to seek out the man who claimed to come from Earth, the one whom Yahweh sent.

  ***

  Even despite his perilous circumstances, Kevin wouldn’t have chosen any other place or any other situation. Friends surrounded him and he knew he walked in destiny; nothing could be better than that—despite the unique difficulties.

  He’d come only recently from Earth, the sister realm. Suddenly snatched up into heaven, he was charged to stand firm against the demonic gathering, enter the realm of Kakos, and lead back those followers of Christ before the realm erupted with fire and judgment.

  Such an incredible mission could not be resisted. He’d devoted everything of his prior life to the worship of his God. Kevin lived each day as if his homeland was a mission field, tried to work towards the calling that he knew he’d received. Though he had no idea why he, specifically, had been chosen for this mission; he had no real skills for this, and despite all the men and women to ever exist prior to Kevin Johnson, only he had been chosen for this task. Sometimes divine choices thoroughly confused him.

  Kevin had no idea as to the Lord’s purpose, but he knew better than to question it. He simply accepted the mission and walked the figurative footsteps of Christ out as his guide. Using that as his rule amazing transformations followed; an entire country had started to change.

  Not all welcomed the message of redemption, however. Most people, and all ekthro—the direct creations of Lucifer, lived their lives in direct contradiction to the Word. The result was clear, those who’d found hope followed Kevin; everyone else persecuted their burgeoning number. Many had actively risen up to destroy them, even.

  Only recently, Kevin’s traveling group settled down where four countries’ borders met: a literal no-man’s land. They’d been evicted from the Kingdom of Jand whose armies encamped just on the horizon as they sought to prevent any reentry.

  Luckily, Kevin reflected, the Luciferian King Rutheir died in the invasion against the Christians when they were still near Grinden. The momentary disarray that ensued after his death in battle gave the Christians a small window of opportunity to escape the schemes of the wicked ones colluding against them in Jand. Dividing their numbers, they spread out and left the area before Absinthium and his Luciferian forces could try to contain them again.

  The wary military forces of Jand, having seen the supernatural power wielded by their Christian enemies politely, but firmly, escorted them to the border. A Nindan army had come to block access to their country as well; Jand and Ninda often joined interests and it was very probable that the Archmage meddled with their politics, too.

  Gleend and Lol remained their only two options. Kevin refused to proceed further until he’d prayed about it and felt clearly direction.

  Kevin took his seat with those friends and counselors who’d accompanied him. It became his custom to meet with a group of advisors each morning—his job had become too big for any one man.

  Rondhale, the bereaved
blacksmith, sat closest to Kevin. Rondhale lost his twin brother during the battle in the quarry and he took the loss with great difficulty.

  Nipanka sat with a few of his trusted people from Northern Jand. His group in Driscul had grown immensely; nearly half the people in that town joined with Kevin's group as it moved past. Nipanka found the need to appoint his own elders and leader in the same manner that Kevin had done. Thaadim and Erki sat with him, along with their teenage daughter Katerna; also present was Kadoz and Naphta. Their little girls Ezer and Rhabba played nearby with some other children. Kadoz had been radically changed after Rashnir and Zeh-Ahbe' rescued him from a coven of ravenous under-demons.

  Werthen sat with the werewolves Rah’-be, and Sil-tarn. He missed the companionship of his friends Rashnir and Zeh-Ahbe’ and so he gravitated towards Zeh-Ahbe’s kinsmen, an animalistic people that he shared so much in common with. He glanced over his shoulder to check on his ferrets; they romped happily around Ezer and Rhabba’s feet chirping happily as the animals were prone to do.

  Of course, Kevin’s angelic bodyguards were ever present. Jorge and Kyrius were the largest of those who circled the small campfire.

  Kevin shared a personal tent with the elf, Dri'Bu and the former Luciferian monk, Minstra. Minstra had also lost someone very close to him and he had nowhere else to go, but he could not seem to accept the Christian message either… as if he was in a state of spiritual shock.

  The preacher had grown close to his tent-mates. However, neither were a part of his council except in an occasional, advisory capacity.