A few days ago the children noticed his frequent pacing and started following him—part of the game being that they didn’t want to be spotted playing it. Jibbin, Rashnir’s ward, started it and the handful of other children followed suit. Whenever Sim-khaw’ would turn around, or potentially notice them, the children would scatter or pretend to be involved in any number of ordinary tasks to avoid discovery.
Sim-khaw’ smiled. Their children were just the same as his kin’s. His grin soured; the children of Zaw-nawb’ deserved the kind of life that Zeh-Ahbe’s transformation could afford them. He had to have it.
The lycan continued his route, waving at those who he’d come to know, or at least recognize from his walks. Finally, he spotted Haisauce who made preparations to begin their play for the second time—they expected a bigger crowd this time. Much as Grinden was the example, he assumed they would draw a crowd from the friends and family surrounding the farming village and pull in those who hadn't seen it the first time.
Sim-khaw’ glanced at him. It was time to make a decision. “Haisauce,” Sim-khaw’ called. “Do you have a few minutes?” He glanced over his shoulder and the children scattered like roaches in the light.
“Sure. I can spare time for a chat.”
Sim-khaw’ sighed. “My life demands my attention,” he said. “My people need me, much like Zeh-Ahbe’s need him—more so, probably.”
Haisauce nodded, understanding that this was an important moment in the werewolf’s life. “What can I help you with?”
Sim-khaw’ leveled his gaze at him. “I must have this power that you possess, that you wield. I need it for my people; surely you understand that my motivation is pure, and good, and right!”
Haisauce continued to nod, validating Sim-khaw’s request. “You do speak truly, my friend. But you have to understand that the path to this power does not come by seeking the power. It comes from the very person of God. We’ve had some conversations to this end. I know you’ve had them with Zeh-Ahbe’ as well.”
Sim-khaw’ growled with discouragement. “You will not give me this power?”
“I wish that I could,” the human stated. “But it is not for me to decide what God will do, who God will bless.”
“Fine. Then I accept this god. I will bow before this Jesus. Only give me the greater transformation!”
Haisauce chuckled. “I cannot. I am not its keeper, and you cannot give a pledge to God in exchange for His power.”
“Do you want gold, then? I will give you all I have, and I can get more.”
“My friend,” Haisauce looked into his eyes. “I would give it to you freely. God gives it freely, but you are still bound up in your own world. Your eyes are still clouded.”
Sim-khaw’ sat for a long moment in silence. Stoic and introspective he sat at the crossroads of his heart. Haisauce sat with him… waiting for whatever would come next.
Finally, Sim-khaw’ stood to his feet. “My people need me. I have tarried too long away from them.”
Haisauce nodded. It hurt his heart, but he had to let the lycan make his own decisions. “Until we met again, then, my friend. I truly do hope that you find what you are looking for.”
Sim-khaw’ nodded but did not turn to look at him. Something in the distance had fixed in his mind. “I do not think that such a day will come,” he said with sadness in his voice. Finally, he began one last walk through the camp.
He came to the western edge and whirled around to look at the kids who followed him, neither knowing or understanding the heaviness of his heart. The children scattered with a gleeful squeal. Sim-khaw’ bowed with a little smile and then took his leave. Jibbin crept out from behind a nearby table and gave a little wave before the lycan left.
Sim-khaw’ waved back and then turned and began walking.
Chapter Fifteen
Absinthium stood shoulder to shoulder with Mesler, another member of the Council of Four who had helped set up the impromptu army’s training exercises. Absinthium and his peer stood in the high tower above the Babel Keep.
The ghoul forces underwent a brief training and drilled. It was now a matter of waiting.
Absinthium had attempted to locate the approaching krist-chins but could not discern their location—something seemed to be blocking the spell caster’s vision. For the moment, he could only focus on this front of the battle and work the plan. Trusting in the strength of others had never been his strong suit and frequently disappointed him.
Mesler, on the other hand, seemed almost giddy. It had been many years since the Order had any significant input on large-scale military operations and he was pleased to be a part of it. Absinthium rolled his eyes—he had experience in this area as beh’-tsah’s hands and feet, but he’d carried it out so well that no others knew of any direct Luciferian involvement.
Far below the overlook, they watched beh’-tsah address the divisions of ghoulish conscripts. They had dressed for war and wore the armor as if battle-ready, carrying different weapons depending on their role in the force.
The demon champion spread his massive wings as his growling voice carried across the wind. He explained in gory detail what fate failures would meet.
Absinthium glared at Mesler who drew sketches of battle formations on his personal tablet. Some of his strategic ideas were good, but if his plans didn’t work, Absinthium would see to it that Mesler met with the same fate as any of the failed ghouls.
For now, he had to rely on the ability of untried, untested, and unloyal minions of his master's sometimes enemy. He stared across the blasted, barren valley where his battle-plan would soon unfold, so long as peh’-shah performed as expected. He stared and sighed promising himself that if even one ghoul messed up he would pitch Mesler out the window.
***
Elo’misce and Bwar sat opposite of grr’Shaalg, the Shadow King. Naked but for the standard goblin loincloth, his simple amulet swung at his neck while he paced. grr’Shaalg dusted off his purple fez as he stopped to look beyond the exterior porch and survey Xorst. Rust-hued blood smears stained the sunbaked walls and sidewalks of the city on the canyon.
Buildings had been torched leaving blackened husks dotting the liberated city. Ekthroic residents had exterminated the humans, burning them out where necessary. Bodies hung upon trellises and pergolas where the executioners lacked sufficient trajectory to fling the corpse all the way into the Drindak rift which split the city into two halves. The skolaxis would feed well, far below, increasing their strength and numbers enough to accommodate the growing forces below the crust.
grr’Shaalg smiled. “You have done well in maintaining the anti-human fervor we initiated.”
“It was surprisingly easy, with Lo-sonom out of the way,” Elo’misce admitted.
The dwarf, as blunt as ever, demanded grr’Shaalg’s attention. “The throne sits open, at the moment. What are we going to do about that?” His tone carried the weight of consequence if the answer didn’t meet his approval.
grr’Shaalg merely looked at him. He sidestepped Bwar’s play for power, “Who is the king, here?” He locked eyes with the dwarf and his voice dripped with such vitriolic power, that even Bwar nearly shuddered when he heard it.
“Y-you?”
“Do not forget that!” The goblin smoothed his tone and responded to Bwar’s initial inquiry. “I will make good on my promise to give you each your own kingdom. Elo’misce will sit on the throne and I will return to your race the ancestral homelands of Under-Gleend which my people took from you so many generations ago.”
Bwar nodded. His gumption returned to him. “Just so long as she is not crowned before my people are returned to our halls. That would insult my people and I might lose control—they are already in a fighting mood.”
grr’Shaalg looked at the elf. Elo’misce shrugged off the minutia.
“So be it,” the goblin decreed. “My race will clear out of the tunnels below the eastern mountains where the royal halls str
etch for miles and miles. There will be an enormous celebration, a coronation, and you will be crowned King over your entire people, Bwar. Do you find this acceptable?”
Bwar stiffened regally and nodded his bearded head. His moment of fleeting humility behind him, he asked after the timeline.
“It will be soon,” grr’Shaalg promised. “Very soon.”
***
A horn blasted in the distance, startling Absinthium from his reverie. It split the sky with an announcement of war and echoed supernaturally loud.
He turned his gaze to the valley where his master stood amongst his troops… his new troops whom he had little rapport with. beh’-tsah’s prize regular forces were currently capturing a prize from his enemies.
The demon whirled around to see the war banners flapping above peh’-shah’s army. They shimmered as they came out from an invisibility spell that had allowed them to come so close without early detection.
With at least four-thousand of peh’-shah's blooded warriors, the coup leader outnumber him two to one. Many of the ghouls quaked with fear, turning to look back at the safety of the fortress.
Absinthium glared at the trembling cowards, ready to pitch Mesler from the parapet. Finally, peh’-shah howled with rage and rushed ahead, holding his massive sword high above his head. He led the charge as his enemies snarled with rage, making a beeline for the Gathering’s lord.
beh’-tsah’s ghoulish force rushed around him to provide a buffer as the enemy poured through the funnel that was the valley floor. The massing armies seemed to carom off of the raised bluffs as they pushed ahead for the choke point—where beh’-tsah stood.
Slowly, beh’-tsah’s army backpedaled towards the large doors on this side of the fortress. They moved slower in retreat than the attackers who would soon be upon them.
Suddenly, Absinthium blew a horn from the tower. He locked eyes with peh’-shah, and then with beh’-tsah. Both looked confused; neither was aware of the mage’s plan.
Absinthium bristled under their piercing stares and released a dispelling wave that pulsed outward from the keep. Camped upon the hills was another army on either side, each five-thousand ghouls strong. The secret legions rushed down the slopes, both flanking and surrounding the invaders to prevent any escape.
Snipers from the hillocks launched volleys of arrows at peh’-shah’s surprised army. The demons in his ranks phased out and were unaffected, but the other conscripted troops scrambled to get under cover.
peh’-shah roared with defiant rage. He’d been baited into the trap and overextended his current forces, committing them to a losing hand. The demon snarled at the tower where Absinthium watched, and then charged into the fray, whirling his massive, flaming blade as he devoted himself to burning through as many of his enemy’s forces as possible, though they outnumbered him three to one.
Flashes of concussive magic and eldritch bursts erupted as the demons hurled elemental forces at each other. Detonating bursts of arcana deflected around them, kicking up dirt as it blew craters open across the ground, flinging the charred bodies of each other’s minions skyward. The air which sizzled and buzzed with the raw energies that two embattled demons commanded.
“And so it begins,” Absinthium stated, knowing that this battle would pitch for hours, perhaps a day or more before peh’-shah could flee or would fall in battle.
“Keep watch for me, Mesler. I have other tasks I must attend at this particular moment.”
***
Jorge, Rashnir, and Zeh-Ahbe’ slipped through the Temple grounds with relative ease under the pretense of travelers on pilgrimage. Many of the nearby monks yelled dark omens on one side of the street; on the opposite edge, others proclaimed positive portents.
Rashnir and Zeh-Ahbe' stiffened when an actual Anakim crossed their path. He stopped to converse with Jorge for a moment.
To his friends' amazement, Jorge responded in the giant's tongue and spoke it well enough pass and receive an invitation to stay amongst other friends of his supposed ilk—the Horpahns. The angel did a good job of keeping his hands concealed beneath his cloak to avoid any giveaway.
“What did he say?” Zeh-Ahbe’ asked as they hurried along.
“He spoke of the sign—the omen. The end is at hand, he said, ‘the Nephilim will rise.’”
They kept their heads down in the midst of the bickering and pressed onward through the dusty streets. Ahead they spotted the gates which exited further onto the pilgrim’s path. Nobody paid any attention as they spilled through the curved aperture in the wall, just as any sojourners might.
When they hit the Fields of Splendor they almost broke into a sprint but maintained enough composure to keep the contrite gait expected of a Luciferian pilgrim. At the final checkpoint, the trio arrived at a tollhouse where a small troop of guards expected a donation for the Order’s coffers before they were allowed to ascend the massive, spiraling tower. Jorge reached into his pocket for the coins which Dri’bu had given him.
Rashnir put a hand on top of his. “No, my friend. Let me pay for this visit.”
Jorge looked at him interrogatively. Rashnir wiggled his fingers in front of the angel as he reached for the pouch of coins that ekerithia had given them.
[Thank you,] Jorge bowed and said in the tongue of the anakim, knowing Rashnir would understand it by context.
Rashnir dumped the purse into the coffer, and receiving a nod from the attendants, the group began moving up the massive tower, stepping gingerly over the large crack that ran vertically through its form.
***
Minor skirmishes flared up over the past couple days in the tlaFFr realm, far below the crust of Gleend. grr'Shaalg sent a number of low-level emissaries from the tyr-aPt kingdom to try and smooth things over, but tlaFFr encouraged his denizens to riot against any of their neighbor's manipulation.
The resistance had grown so weary as the anthrofusis ravaged their bodies that they knew it safe to pass. tlaFFr’s rebels could hardly raise their swords anymore.
grr’Shaalg and his company rode through the wide tunnels towards the grand halls of tlaFFr on the backs of their most vicious skolaxis. They towed several carts behind them, covered to conceal their contents. grr’Shaalg held his head high as the giant worms entered the massive subterranean kingdom that had been hewn from the stone by the dwarves who crafted it so many eons ago.
The powerful goblin hissed at the crowds who threw rotten vegetation and roots at his company in protest. They posed little threat; most had insufficient strength remaining to send a projectile more than a few feet without bursting the sores and seeping pustules that covered their bodies.
As grr’Shaalg’s skolax reached the middle of the great, cavernous hall, the milling crowd parted, clearing the way for him to meet with tlaFFr. The king sat slouched upon an impressive dais at the central narthex.
The shadow king watched as his warriors and nawchash empowered shamans took point at the edges of the immense cavern. They began setting up their carts and yanked the sheets away to reveal rows and rows of glass vials—but until the time was right they kept the crowds away with pikes and falchions.
grr’Shaalg ascended the steps and could see that King tlaFFr was on the edge of death. His cracked sores leaked dark ichor that discolored the king’s robes; his eyes had begun to bleed and verged on rupturing.
The sickly king’s envoy, gLarmng, leaned against a desk nearby. His condition appeared similar.
Producing a vial of the katadoolu, grr’Shaalg waved it in front of the ruler. [Swear fealty to me,] he whispered into his ear.
tlaFFr regarded him with slight confusion. He stared vacantly at first before recognizing that grr'Shaalg held the antidote to the anthrofusis disease. The king weakly nodded and grr'Shaalg poured the contents down his throat. He handed gLarmng a different ampoule filled with katadoolu, which he greedily quaffed.
gLarmng stepped to the stage where the hold-outs had gathered and motioned the emis
sary over.
[Brothers and sisters,] grr’Shaalg shouted from his side, [we have discovered the source of this sickness! It is a disease caused by the very existence of mankind! It has taken hold in this geographic location and the great hall has become so toxic that goblin kind cannot survive here any longer! I urge you to abandon these holes. I have arranged for others to assist your relocation.]
The crowd booed and hissed, not caring if grr’Shaalg spoke truth or lies. They cared only to remain in their homes.
gLarmng already felt better mere seconds after ingesting the dose. He looked back at the king—sure that his vial had contained something else other than a remedy. tlaFFr’s face turned a deeper hue of purple. He listed to one side and his engorged scrofula suddenly burst below his neck spilling puss and thickened blood all down the king’s side and his throne.
tlaFFr fell off the chair and thrashed momentarily upon the floor as he expired. The royal crown, a crude construction of bone and teeth wrapped together with dried sinew, clattered across the stage.
gLarmng bowed, pretending to mourn. Finally, he made a proclamation, [The King was too far gone—tlaFFr is dead. Any kin with a claim to the crown should come now and take it!]
Only two contenders moved to the front. They glared at each other and drew blades in challenge. Charging for each other in wearied slow motion, they traded blows like battle-wearied warriors with one foot already in the grave. Finally, the older of the two scored a slashing blow across his cousin's artery and killed the contender.
gLarmng cried in celebration of the victory and beckoned for the new king to take his position. The blooded warrior shambled up the steps and then fell stone dead upon the dais—the anthrofusis coursed unchecked through his veins as his excited heart pumped him full of poison with each beat.
[Are there any others?] gLarmng called. None stepped forward. Finally, gLarmng retrieved the crown and set it upon his own head.
grr’Shaalg gave the new king a respectful bow to follow protocol. The audience followed suit out of habit and acknowledged his rule.
The Kakos Realm Collection Page 86
