The Tear of Gramal

by Phillip Jones

  Defondel stopped squirming. “I know not his name. I only know the humans live on the Head Master’s island.”

  Releasing her grip, Sharvesa took a deep breath and then blew the fairy out of her palm. After watching him tumble through the air and catch himself with his wings, she smiled and then vanished.

  A moment later, the embarrassed Fairy King looked around at all his subjects who were still staring at him. “What are you looking at? Get back to work!”

  The New Hell

  The Abandoned Docks of Merchant Island

  Late Bailem is Approaching

  Sam stepped out of the dock foreman’s office and then walked down the plank-way back to where Kepler was waiting. “Jehonas isn’t in there either,” Sam announced. “His office is a mess … just like everything else is around here. It looks like he left in a rush.”

  Sitting on his haunches, the jaguar stopped licking the back of his paw. “Perhaps he had better territories to prowl.” Lowering his paw to the ground, the cat lowered his head between his legs and continued to lick himself.

  Curling his nose, Sam replied, “Perhaps ... but why would he leave everything in disarray? There must be rules for how his island is to be maintained.”

  Kepler’s reply was muffled since he was nibbling at his inner thigh. “Yes, there must.”

  Sam looked back toward the office. “When I looked through the papers on Jehonas’ desk, there was a log. There are four containers filled with criminals that were scheduled to be dropped off last night. If that’s the case, why would the dock foreman abandon his post … especially when he needs to get them out? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Kepler stopped cleaning himself and looked up. “Perhaps the criminals broke out of their crates before we did and overran the island. That would explain the disarray.”

  Sam pondered the cat’s response. “That’s unlikely. We would’ve heard the commotion.” He placed his hand on his chin and rubbed the scruff of 2 Peaks growth. “What if the criminals are still inside their crates? They’ll perish if we don’t let them out.”

  “So?”

  “What do you mean, ‘so?’ We can’t just let them pass. We should look for them.”

  Kepler walked toward the railing of the walkway and then used the post at its end to scratch his flanks. “I didn’t come to Dragonia to save unwanted beings. I’m here to hunt for a mate.”

  Sam nodded. “I know. You told me that already.” Looking toward the stacks of crates that began over 100 paces away, he added, “Just help me find them. Something tells me that the Merchant Angels won’t be returning tonight. Stay with me for a while, and if they don’t, I’ll travel with you and help you find your woman.”

  “And when you find these crates filled with the worlds’ rejected … what then?”

  “We’ll release them. They’ll starve to death if we don’t.”

  Kepler’s eyes narrowed. He lowered his head level with Sam’s. “Truly kind words from the mouth of a king who recently ended an innocent man. Don’t toy with me, King of Brandor. Why do you care?”

  “I don’t know. I just do.” Sam reached over his shoulder and retrieved his backpack. Opening the leather flap that kept it shut, he reached in to retrieve the vial that was holding Yaloom’s potion. He unsheathed his dagger, uncorked the bottle with his teeth and tilted it. After dipping the end of his blade into the liquid, he lifted it above his mouth and allowed a drop to fall under his tongue.

  Kepler watched Sam savor the effects of the potion. The way the king moaned while he licked his lips caused the jaguar to assume the potion was some sort of substance that, over his seasons, he had seen other beings consume. They had all acted in a similar fashion—though their consumption had been in bigger doses. Because of this carelessness, there were many nights where he had hidden in the shadows and waited for those who partook of such toxins to stumble out of the Bloody Trough.

  Though curious, Kepler refrained from asking what the substance was and questioned again. “I asked, why do you care?”

  When Sam opened his eyes, he reclaimed Kepler’s gaze. “I care only because we’ll need protection. This world is a violent place. Think about it. We could use the criminals as a first line of defense if we’re attacked.” Corking the bottle, Sam returned it to his backpack and added, “If I’m right, and I usually am … the Merchant Angels won’t be coming back. You and I are going to need all the help we can get, and expendable help is just as good as any. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  The jaguar lowered to his haunches and sat in silence as he processed the king’s argument. He looked down the docks toward the containers. “Where should we look first?”

  Draping his backpack over his right shoulder, Sam sheathed his dagger. “Beats me. Let’s just tap on them all until we hear something.”

  As the pair walked down the dock, the grendle-imp Kepler released from his crate watched from the top of the oak-shingled roof of the dock foreman’s office. Pydum crossed his arms and rested them on top of his belly while he whispered, “I wonder who’ll be the first to perish.” With a pack of his own on his back, the imp vanished.

  Ancients Sovereign that Same Peak

  The Hall of Judgment

  Night Approaches

  As the gods took their seats around the heavy stone table, Gabriel floated across the hall and stopped near Lasidious and Celestria’s chairs. “Has anyone spoken to them lately?” the Book asked. “I’d like to get this meeting over with.”

  Alistar was quick to respond. “Lasidious has sought solitude after his disagreement with Celestria. He doesn’t care about this meeting.”

  “And Celestria?” Gabriel quizzed.

  “She refuses to leave their home. She’s waiting for Lasidious to return, and she also doesn’t care.”

  “How wonderful,” Mieonus oozed while applauding. “The perfect couple spats. How wickedly delicious is that bit of news.”

  Alistar looked across the table at the Goddess of Hate. “Yet again, Mieonus, you show no class. Just one more reason for the rest of us to despise your existence.”

  All the gods laughed as Mieonus’ smile vanished. Crossing her arms, she sat back in her chair. “I hate you all!”

  Enjoying the goddess’ tantrum, Hosseff leaned forward. “Gabriel, as amusing as this meeting has become, why have you summoned us?”

  “Yes … why?” Bailem added.

  “Because I have recently returned from Dragonia.” The Book floated over the center of the table and lowered eye-level with the gods. “The most obliquitous souls within my pages have been delivered to the new Hell.”

  Lictina spoke up. “How many souls were chosen?”

  “More than two billion. They have been given temporary bodies. Most were cast onto the poles and other untamed continents on Dragonia. There, they’ll roam in misery amidst the cold and barren lands.” The Book paused. “As far as the mainland of Dragonia, the Source has asked for a favor ... one that I honored.”

  “And what was this so-called favor, Gabriel?” Alistar questioned.

  “The dragon asked that I not burden the demon populace with an over-abundance of outcasts.”

  Calla cut in. “Why would the Ancient One care? He has his new world, as promised. Why would he interfere?”

  The Book lowered onto the table before he responded. “The Mighty One said the demons deserved the opportunity to prepare for the tortureds’ migration onto their lands.”

  Sharvesa leaned forward. “And you agreed? Why?”

  “I did. But why doesn’t matter.”

  The demon-goddess let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Gabriel. I’ll be forever grateful. My daughter can use this extended series of moments to prepare for their arrival.”

  “This is good news,” Alistar added. “But where did you cast the rest of the souls who were not left on the poles and barren lands?”

  “I threw them into the Ocean of Karamoore, south-southwest of Dragon’s Backbone. It’ll be up to the damned to find
their way to the mainland. For those souls who did not possess the knowledge of how to swim, they sank. They’ll experience the sensation of drowning again and again until the moment comes for them to be reborn. Even those who can swim must do so for more than half a season before they reach the backbone. Perhaps this torment will encourage them to live better lives during the next series of moments they’re allowed to prove themselves on some other world.”

  “Half a season,” Mieonus giggled. “Even I would not have been so harsh, Gabriel.”

  Ignoring Mieonus’ remark, Alistar questioned, “What of their bodies?”

  A look of disgust appeared on the Book’s face. “As agreed, their bodies are temporary. Though they’ll experience the feeling of passing, they cannot truly die. They’ll feel every emotion and sensation, except fulfillment and joy. Dragonia will be a true Hell for the damned to wander until we pluck them from it and give them another opportunity to prove themselves worthy of escaping eternal torment.”

  Keylom’s hooves clapped against the polished marble as he moved to a better position from which to speak. “How many damned souls remain on your pages, Gabriel?”

  “Nearly eight billion. Dragonia was not large enough to hold them all.”

  “Then what will you do with the others?” the centaur questioned.

  Gabriel floated back over to the center of the table. “As you know, over 10 billion souls have been given the opportunity to live on the new worlds. Their lives lacked quality and goodness, therefore, they’ve been damned. Though only two billion were cast onto Dragonia, all of them deserve to be punished.”

  “Yes, we know this, Gabriel,” Hosseff snapped. “But you didn’t answer the centaur’s question. What did you do with the other eight billion you were forced to leave inside your pages?”

  The Book lifted off the table and floated next to Keylom who stood behind Hosseff. Facing the table, he responded. “To compensate for this injustice, the remaining damned have been given a tortured existence within my binding. They’ll suffer just as deeply as those on Dragonia will suffer. Their torture will not stop until the moment arrives for their rebirth.”

  Annoyed by the Book’s proximity, Hosseff stood and walked away from his chair. The shade stopped behind Lasidious’ empty seat and continued to question. “What of those souls who have not had the opportunity to live on the new worlds? What is to be their existence?”

  “Their existence will be the same as it has been for the last 13,000 seasons. They won’t suffer, just as the others did not suffer until they failed to live a good life.”

  Jervaise decided to speak up. “What will you do with the souls who were given life … those who had their chance to live on the new worlds, and in doing so, became worthy of blessing? Will you reward them, Gabriel? Will they experience eternal joy until this collective can find a way to create a Heaven that will rival the Heaven we all once knew?”

  A look of sorrow appeared on Gabriel’s face. “They’ll experience as much joy as I’m capable of remembering, for as we all know, matching the Creator’s greatness is impossible.”

  “‘Matching the Creator’s greatness is impossible,’ he says.” Owain removed his hat and set it on the table. “Impossible only for now.”

  Hearing the God of Water’s boldness, Bailem bit his lip and forced himself to remain silent. He stood from the table and walked to the far side of the room and called Gabriel to him. Once the Book was hovering in front of his face, the angel adjusted his robe on his portly belly and whispered, “Why must we let them speak with such arrogance. The Mighty One would not approve. You must speak with him, Gabriel. Tell him to bring down his wrath upon this collective.”

  The Book smiled and then responded using Bailem’s real name. “Be patient, Zerachiel. We knew this path would not be easily traveled when we chose it.”

  Playing with the point of his hat, Owain shouted across the room. “Are you two quite finished? Using your power to keep us uninformed while you whisper amongst yourselves will solve nothing, Gabriel!”

  Putting his hat back on his head, the dwarf stood to stretch his legs. “Perhaps the moment has come to segregate Dragonia and give the planet its own sun. We could increase its size, thus giving you the room to release the other eight billion damned. While we’re at it, we should create a number of additional moons to orbit Hell’s circumference.”

  Gabriel looked across the hall at Helmep. “Why additional moons? The moon Dragonia has is sufficient.”

  Kesdelain broke into the conversation. “It seems to me that Helmep sees an opportunity to use the weres as a means of torture for the damned. Those on Dragonia who change under the full moon and become predators will have plenty to feast upon once the damned migrate onto the mainland.”

  “Agreed,” Helmep added. “Devoured flesh seems a proper fit for Hell.”

  Alistar slapped the edge of the table. “I also agree. And since Lasidious and Celestria care not what this collective does, there are enough of us present for a majority vote.” Alistar paused. “Have the elements necessary to create such an expansion arrived yet?” He looked across the room toward the Book. “Gabriel, have your Salvage Angels returned with the means to create a new star, the additional moons and still add girth to Dragonia?”

  The Book floated back to the table and hovered above Hosseff’s empty seat. “Yes. My angels returned over a season ago.”

  “A season?” Mieonus shouted. Standing from her chair, she stomped the lifted heel of her right shoe. “How could you hold back information of this importance from the rest of us?”

  Gabriel chuckled. His rosy cheeks bounced as he did. “When last I looked at the laws on my pages, I have free will just as you do, Mieonus. Must I continue with your education, or shall I simply open my binding and show you the laws that this collective ratified.”

  Mieonus’ hateful stare burned into the Book’s binding as she lowered to her seat and crossed her arms. “One Peak … I shall see that you suffer, Book. Mark my words.”

  Rolling his eyes, Gabriel addressed the others. “The mainland of Dragonia must not change. Its landscape must remain the same. If it doesn’t, the Source will be displeased. And as we’ve already discussed, I’ve agreed to the dragon’s wishes.”

  Hosseff ripped back his hood, stepped around Lasidious’ seat and stopped next to the table. As he did, the light within the room caused the nothingness beneath his hood to solidify. With the shade’s face now visible, he sneered at the Book’s promise and pounded his fist against the table. “The Ancient One agreed to stay clear of our dealings on this plane! He promised free reign! Are we now to be bound by his whims?”

  The Book of Immortality became angered. Gabriel vanished and reappeared within a hand of the God of Death’s face. The Book shouted, “If it were not for the laws on my pages, I’d strike you down! Do not speak of the Mighty One with such irreverence again! For if you do, I shall sacrifice all that I am, and take you with me!”

  Hosseff stepped back from the table. Lifting his hood, his face vanished. His voice became wispy again as he responded. “Forgive me, Gabriel.” He bowed to show his submission. “The Ancient One’s will be done.”

  Alistar allowed the tension in the room to dissipate before he interjected. “Gabriel … does the Ancient One truly intend to allow us free reign as he promised?”

  Floating back to the center of the table, the Book responded. “Yes. The dragon intends to honor his word, just as he has always honored his word. It was Bassorine who asked the Source to request this of me. The Ancient One would not have done so if this request would not have been initiated by a member of this collective.”

  Mieonus scoffed, “Why would the Mighty One care about a request made by a destroyed being?”

  The Book lowered to a position in front of the goddess’ face. “Careful, Mieonus … I’m not in the mood.”

  The Goddess of Hate leaned forward. She placed the tip of her nose against Gabriel’s. “What will you do, Book? Would you sac
rifice all that you are to strike me down?” Leaning back, she taunted, “I’m soooo scared. Get out of my face!”

  A long, awkward silence captivated the room. Eventually, the Book of Immortality lifted and took a position at the center of the table. “With the matter necessary to create at our disposal, I see no reason why we cannot send the worlds into stasis. I say we vote on whether to expand the size of Hell, create the new moons, and a new star. We will adjust the minds of every being without godly memories. Those on the new Dragon World, Harvestom, Grayham, Luvelles, and Trollcom will not remember the existence of old Dragonia, while those on the newly reformed Hell, both damned and undamned, will no longer remember the existence of the other worlds. They will only know Hell, but those who are living on Hell, those who are not yet damned, will know that there is something better that awaits them if they choose to live a good life ... but they will not understand what it is ... only that it’s better.”

  The Book looked toward Bailem as he questioned the room, “What say you all?”

  The vote was unanimous.

  Seeing the hands raised in favor, Gabriel shouted, “Then let it be done!” The Book’s voice was heard as thunder throughout all the worlds. A moment later, stasis fell across the solar system.

  Meanwhile, the New Hell

  Lasidious, Garrin and the Prince of Brandor’s Camp

  Lasidious was lying on his back near the campfire beneath the light of Dragonia’s moon when he heard the thunder that was caused by the Book of Immortality’s voice. The Mischievous One had just broken through a line of Garrin’s defenses, and as a result, the children were bouncing on the god’s belly when stasis fell across the worlds.

  The Mischievous One frowned as the boys froze in place. “No, no, no! Not now,” he griped. “Garrin was just starting to trust me.” Lasidious looked in the direction of the vanishing sun. “Why couldn’t they have chosen a better series of moments?”