by R.N. Feldman
Sefu took a slice of bread from the platter in front of them. “There is only one continent on Geminon,” he said cutting a piece of cheese in half and laying it across the top half of the bread. “The humans are here, in the middle,” he said, marking it with a piece of meat, “in the kingdom of Aaru, once ruled by your father. To the East is Genesis, home to the New Humans, the Neosapiens, who pursue power exclusively through science and advancement of the mind.” He marked the eastern country with a piece of red apple and then placed a slice of green apple left of the elk. “To the West is Elysia, ruled by the Magi demons, who you have come to know. They seek advancement of their race through Moving. They are ruled by Acheron who is the latest in a dynasty of cruel Dark Creators.”
“Acheron?” asked Michael of Maya, “Isn’t he the tall demon we saw back in Alexandria― the one who fought with my dad?”
Maya nodded.
“I’m not surprised that he’s here,” said Sefu. “He does not command from the rear. Even before he was king, he was always first into battle, thirsty for our blood. I saw him myself when he drove his armies through the Western Wastes, tearing the ground open beneath our feet and devouring our men with lightning and fire. I despise all of the demons, but he is by far the worst. During my last days on Geminon, the Magi tortured and killed thousands of our people under his command. I heard stories from the few who managed to escape. They say that he milked prisoners of their blood so he could bathe in it.”
Maya was horrorstruck. “Is that really true?” she asked with wide eyes, doubting anyone could be so monstrous, even these frightful horned creatures. Life under them in Alexandria was certainly no festival, but she did not see any of them taking showers in gore.
“Nothing would surprise me about them,” growled Sefu, twisting his mouth in disgust. Simply talking about the demons seemed to rile him up. “They seek control and dominance over all of Geminon. They are hateful, spiteful creatures,” he spat, “even against their own kind. We knew little of what happened beyond the walls and wastes of eastern Elysia except what we gleaned from those demons that we managed to capture and interrogate. We learned that Acheron’s cruelty inspired several uprisings, all of which were brutally crushed. Anyone suspected of treason was publicly disgraced and executed.”
Maya thought of the dead demon in the cart, his severed horn held aloft in celebration.
“I saw Acheron strike and threaten one of his officers,” Michael remarked.
“The officer was probably a short horn,” guessed Sefu. “They call them kulpas.”
“What’s the difference?” asked Maya.
“None, as far as I can tell,” Sefu snorted derisively, “but they believe the longer their horns are, the more pure Daemon ancestry they are supposed to bear, and thus the higher rank they have.”
“Acheron had the longest horns of any that I saw,” added Michael.
“And the greenest skin, I expect,” said Sefu. “That’s another traditional sign of their royalty that supposedly comes from pure Daemons, but don’t believe it’s real. Acheron is a Creator, and a powerful one at that. A great Creator can reshape matter into whatever form he wishes. He can even reshape himself. The horns and green visage are probably just to impress other demons with his power, but he can turn himself into things that are far more dangerous.”
Maya could not help but imagine what horrors the demon king could transform into― a giant fanged serpent, a sphinx bear, or maybe a roak? Could he transform himself to look human? Surely if he could grow longer horns, he could eliminate them as well…
“But I need to stay on track,” continued Sefu, stroking his beard. “Where was I?”
“You were telling us about Acheron and the three nations on the, um, other planet,” said Maya.
“Right,” said Sefu, tapping the table again. “Thank you, my dear. The three nations of Geminon do not get along. Aaru has been in almost constant war with the demons. They always encroach on our borders. Even during peace time their zealots stage raids on border towns, kidnap, kill, and steal from our people. They believe they are better than us because they are more adept at Moving, but they have no knack for science and technology. The humans of Aaru fear neither Moving nor science. They are merely tools that can be applied to any purpose. But the demons loathe technology as the antithesis to their worship of the old nature gods. That’s why they hate the Neos even more than us. Your father actually managed to work out a peace accord with the Neos. We gave them access to mines and resources and they promised to stop developing weapons. The demons, though, have always been much less reasonable.”
“This is a lot to soak in,” Michael commented, running his hands back and forth through his hair.
“There’s something else important that may help explain your father’s actions,” said Sefu. “On Geminon, there is an important right of passage to adulthood amongst the Aaruns. When a child turns fifteen, he is brought to see the Oracle Fold of the Cave. The Oracle tells every Aarun a single prophecy in their life. It always describes the most important thing that they shall do.”
“Is the Oracle always right?” asked Michael.
“Most Aaruns believe so, and so it has always seemed to me, but words have a way of being tricky. They must be interpreted. Nevertheless, visiting the Oracle Fold has been a tradition amongst Aaruns for as long as anyone can remember and is so important that a person may even change their name when they hear their destiny. After all, our destiny is who we are.”
“Our most important holiday took place on the rare occasion that a prince was brought to hear the Oracle because the prince’s destiny will become the destiny of all his people. I was only a toddler, but I remember clearly the day your father went to see the Oracle―“
“Wait,” interrupted Michael. “Aren’t you older than my dad?”
Sefu laughed. “He’s eleven years older than me. Don’t forget that he’s an immortal Creator. He can look any age he wants.”
“Right,” said Michael uncomfortably, clearly trying to reckon with the idea of his father as some sort of a deity.
“So, it was a huge festival,” Sefu continued. “The cave entrance was bedecked with flowers and thousands of people gathered. There were musicians, performers, storytellers, and people hawking all kinds of food and treats. It felt like the whole kingdom showed up. Then there was a huge procession as Amon entered the grounds and sauntered towards the hallowed cave. When he arrived at its mouth, he was wreathed in flowers by his parents and received blessings from the high priests. He carried a torch and had to enter the cave alone.”
“My own father lifted me to his shoulders so I could see everything. I was too young to know exactly what was going on, but the way all the adults looked as they waited for Amon to emerge, I could tell that it was a very important moment. Some people prayed, a few whispered to each other, but most were completely silent. It was eerie. I remember I felt scared as we waited for him to return.”
“Then we could see a light emerge from the tunnel. Everyone in the crowd started whispering and muttering. It sounded like wind blowing through fields of wheat. Finally, your father emerged. I remember that his face looked sallow and worried, but the crowd didn’t seem to notice. They were caught up in a great cheer. Amon was led to a stage and the priests called for silence. With beads of sweat gathering on his furrowed brow, the young prince stood at a voice amplifier and uttered the prophecy to his people. ‘The Fold spoke to me,’ he said. ‘It told me of my future, which is the future of this land: ‘my line will end the war between Light and Dark.’ And that, Michael Endwar, is where your name comes from.”
“Wow,” said Michael taking a deep breath. “But why do you think my dad looked so upset?”
“When I got to know your father, the pressure of the prophecy weighed on him like a mountain of lead. I mean, how does one react when told to end a war that has existed since the beginning of time― a conflict that is woven into the very fabric of the cosmos? Where does one
begin? But eventually, Amon’s path came to him. It was not long after his coming of age that his father, your grandfather, was killed in battle by Emeron, the Dark Creator, King of the Magi, and father of Acheron. Full of rage and righteous faith in the prophecy, Amon decided he would fulfill his destiny and take revenge at the same time.”
“When I grew up, I fought in your father’s army, first as a lowly soldier, but over many years I rose through the ranks to become a general. Despite some small victories we were never able to take much ground against the demons. Then your father came up with a plan to wipe out the demon royal family and steal their Eye.”
“I’m guessing it didn’t work,” observed Maya, noting that Acheron was probably hunting for them at that very moment.
“That is an understatement,” said Sefu. “What your father did next helped bring about the doom we now face. There is much more you need to know, but you should hear the rest from your father’s lips. For now, it is time to sleep.”
“But I want to know more!” Michael begged, his face painted with a mixture of wonder and worry at the world opening up for him.
Maya was tired, too, but she was getting into the elaborate tale as well.
“I understand,” said Sefu, “but we have a dangerous road ahead of us and you’ll need your strength. I need you up early tomorrow to take advantage of what sanctuary we have left.”
“Are we going to rescue my dad?” Michael asked hopefully.
“There would be no greater waste of time,” Sefu said coldly.
Michael looked taken aback by his callousness.
“I know that sounds harsh, but Amon is in a prison of his own construction. When you hear his story, you’ll understand.”
“But how am I supposed to hear it if he’s in jail?” Michael asked anxiously.
“Don’t worry,” Sefu appeased. “There may be another way to obtain the information we need.”
They eventually acquiesced to go to bed. Maya was still not sure about any of this, but if it was true, she had wandered into fascinating company. She suddenly found herself near the locus of this adventure. She was the youngest of four siblings, the daughter of a chancellor, and always treated as one of the smartest, prettiest girls in school, so did not at all mind being at the center of things.
She hugged Michael goodnight as they climbed the stairs to their respective rooms. He had bags under his eyes that were dark enough to be seen beneath all the grime. The black shirt she had given him and his brown, wavy hair were spackled with forest bric-a-brac. It was hard to tell in this condition, but she supposed that he could be considered handsome, although he was skinnier and less muscular than her usual type. While she most of all wanted to rescue her family, part of her wished to see where this adventure was heading. If this Creator business was true, Michael might be the key to freeing them. All that potential power made him unexpectedly intriguing.
CHAPTER V
THE GENERAL
