by Jared Stone
“I’m serious,” Lucian insisted, frustrated by Argus’ obvious jest.
Argus looked back with a stern countenance. “So am I,” he stated. “A few hundred years ago, Zagan came and made a real mess of things. Me and some others fought back and eventually managed to seal him away…. We thought for good.” Argus turned his head to the side to look at the reflections of the room on the darkened window panes.
“You’re trying to tell me you were around hundreds of years ago?” asked Lucian incredulously. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“I’ve been around for quite a while,” said Argus, turning back toward Lucian seriously. “Let’s just say I’m… hard to get rid of.” At this, Argus cracked a smile, as if he was the only one listening in on a private joke.
Lucian stayed silent for a moment, staring at Argus. Then he stood up and, as sternly as he could muster, said, “Yeah, that’s it. I want you out of my room now.” This sort of assertive outburst stood in stark contrast to Lucian’s natural personality, and hearing it come from his own mouth seemed odd to him; but he also wanted to send a strong message to his un-welcomed guest that he did not appreciate being treated like a fool, especially after already having had such a difficult morning.
“But, Lucian…,” protested Argus.
“Nope, you’re crazy, get out,” interjected Lucian, forcefully pointing to the door.
Argus stood up and took a step forward, coming to stand before Lucian with an almost confrontational posture. He was about the same height as Lucian, give or take an inch, and Lucian couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. As Lucian made eye contact with Argus’ unflinching stare, a wave of discomfort flowed over him, and he swallowed hard, producing an embarrassing “gulp” sound. Looking him in the eye unwaveringly, Argus said, “Lucian, I’m being serious here. If you don’t believe me, how the heck do you describe what happened out there earlier?” He adamantly gestured toward the window.
“I…, I don’t know…,” Lucian admitted, taking a step back. “I’m just confused.” He averted his gaze down to his bed to avoid the penetrating eye contact Argus maintained throughout the whole exchange.
At this, Argus’ stance and tone softened once again. “That’s understandable,” he said. “Please, just sit down and listen to what I’ve got to say. I have the only answers for you right now.”
Still without looking up at Argus, Lucian took a step over to his bed and sat back down. Once again placing his elbows on his knees, Lucian leaned forward and rested his forehead down on his palms. Argus, too, returned to his seat and continued with his explanation.
“Thanks,” said Argus, smiling. “I know it’s hard to believe, but what I’m telling you is the truth. A group of us, called Kílánór, have been around since the beginning of recorded history, trying to maintain balance and preserve this world. There are others who seek to destroy that balance, and we sometimes have to fight to prevent that from happening. What you unfortunately witnessed tonight was one of those times.”
Lucian kept his eyes pointed downward and his head in his hands. He was trying really hard to open up his mind and dispel his disbelief, but it still seemed too ridiculous to be real. “Okay,” started Lucian. “Let’s say what you’re telling me is true. Why was he here?”
“He was looking for something,” Argus responded. He paused for a minute, breathing in and exhaling loudly. “I hid something in the library here a long time ago for safe keeping. The old head librarian, Mr. Porter, was a very good friend of mine. He promised me that this item would remain safe and hidden forever. Many years passed, and no one ever discovered its whereabouts.” Argus paused again, seeming to take a second to collect his thoughts, and maybe even determine whether or not he wished to continue with what he was saying.
“Recently,” Argus began again, “I’ve sensed some sort of disturbance in the area. Not knowing what it was, I moved that item to another location. I was hoping that it would prevent anyone from getting hurt.” Argus took a deep breath in. “I guess I was wrong…,” he concluded quietly as his voice trailed off and he glanced over at the window yet again.
“What was this thing you hid?” asked Lucian, look-ing up in interest, not yet realizing he was slowly buying into this incredible story.
“For your safety, I can’t tell you that,” Argus said apologetically. Lucian’s mind immediately returned to its cynical state, and he leaned back from his crouched position, supporting himself with his elbows upon the bed behind him. Sure…, thought Lucian as he glared at Argus skeptically.
“Not yet,” Argus continued hastily, clearly sensing the boy’s doubt. “I can’t risk putting you in greater danger than you’re already in.”
“Danger?” asked Lucian as his brow scrunched up with concern. “How so?”
“Well, the power you showed out there,” explained Argus. “Zagan now knows that you possess that power, and that’ll be a threat to him. He’ll want to eliminate you before you become a problem.”
Lucian shook his head. “No way,” he insisted. “I don’t have any ‘power.’ I’m completely normal and boring.” Lucian was at first resolute in this, but, as he recalled the events of earlier that morning, he meekly added, “Just lucky, I guess….”
“I was there, Lucian. I saw what happened,” Argus replied in earnest. “Zagan attacked you with a blast of dark energy, and you repelled it with a blindingly bright energy of your own. There’s no way that any normal human should have survived that attack.” Looking Lucian right in the eyes, he said, “Some people are gifted with special powers that differ from person to person. Through training and greater realization, these powers can be honed to become extremely formidable. I can’t tell you all the details quite yet, but I know you’ve got something special, Lucian.”
Raising his eyebrows in blatant disbelief, Lucian dismissively said, “Riiiiight….”
“I know you still don’t believe me,” replied Argus solemnly. “I didn’t believe it at first either. It all made no sense; I thought I was going crazy.” As a grin spread back onto his face, he added, “But, in time, I came to accept it as truth. Actually, I want to take you to a friend of mine. Maybe he can make you believe, as someone once did for me....”
“And who is this ‘friend’ of yours?” Lucian asked hesitantly. He assumed that whatever kind of person would associate with someone like Argus must be just as, if not more, insane.
“He is a highly realized sage named Panhavant,” Argus responded. “We can go meet him tomorrow.”
“No, I’m going home this weekend,” replied Lucian resolutely while shaking his head. “I won’t be able to make it.”
“I think this is more important than that, Lucian,” said Argus gravely as the grin disappeared from his face. “I’m serious when I say you’re in danger. Tell your parents you’ve got too much work to do this weekend and you’ll see them soon.”
Lucian stared at this strange person and weighed his options. He felt particularly intrigued by the whole situation, and, even though it all sounded absolutely loony, he secretly wanted to find out more. Argus also possessed some kind of persuasive quality that Lucian couldn’t quite put his finger on; but the man’s trustworthy eyes and genuine disposition somehow convinced Lucian that he should give it a shot.
“You’re not gonna leave me alone until I do this, are you?” asked Lucian as he sat back up straight on his bed.
“Nope,” responded Argus with a big smile breaking out onto his face.
“Well then,” said Lucian. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”
“That’s the spirit!” Argus cried out happily as he slapped both of his hands down upon his knees, eliciting a slight jump from Lucian. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, Argus pulled out something. Holding it in front of him, he began to peel back the wrapper, and Lucian saw that it was an energy bar of some sort. Argus took a bite and chewed happily with a big grin of contentment on his face. Reaching out, Argus held the bar in front of Lucian in a gesture of offering.
“Ummm, no thanks,” Lucian replied, with a look of disgust on his face that he didn’t catch soon enough to hide. Argus just shrugged and brought the snack back closer toward himself.
“What was that name you call yourselves?” Lucian inquired, hazily trying to recall the foreign word Argus had mentioned previously.
“Kílánór,” Argus responded as he chewed another big bite of the bar.
“What language is that in? Latin? Arabic?” Lucian asked, completely clueless when it came to ancient languages.
“It’s a language that’s thought to predate humans,” Argus answered without flinching. “It is known as ‘Lí’ísedón,’ ‘The Language of the Gods.’ Very few beings in this universe know how to speak it, and it’s fully known by only the oldest and most highly realized masters.”
“Oh…,” said Lucian, nodding his head slowly. “So, you’re a Kílánór too?”
“Kílánór is the plural form,” said Argus. “I’m just a Kílán. But yeah, that’s what I am.” He seemed to beam with pride as he said it, before ripping off another mouthful of energy bar. “‘Kílán’ as a word originally means ‘brotherhood’ or ‘the connection between all things.’ Eventually, this word came to include any member of such a group as well.”
“Okay, I’ll try to remember that,” Lucian said, un-certain as to whether or not he would be able to learn the intricacies of an ancient foreign language in addition to all the other new information which was invading his mind.
“Well, that’s enough discussion for this morning; it’s late,” said Argus after he swallowed the wad of food in his mouth. “And you’re gonna have a big day tomorrow. I suggest you get some sleep.”
Lucian suddenly realized how exhausted he was. He had no idea of the time, but it was definitely well into morning, and he could already see the sky turn-ing to a warm purple hue outside the window.
“Is it alright if I stay here tonight?” asked Argus almost bashfully. “I think it’s best if you’re not alone for a while.”
Lucian looked at this peculiar man he had just met only a couple of hours ago. Argus sat there with an innocent and pleading look on his face, and Lucian, grateful for his aid, couldn’t bring himself to kick the Kílán out into the cold morning. Once again, Lucian found himself caving into his persuasive guest’s wishes.
“Fine,” responded Lucian. He nodded his head over at what was once Blake’s bed. “You can sleep there. But I’m sorry; I don’t have any sheets or anything for you.”
“Ha!” chuckled Argus dismissively. “Trust me, I’ve slept on much worse! I’ll be fine.” With this, he practically leapt onto the bed, bringing his legs up from the floor and resting them on the mattress, shoes and all. With another shake of his head, Lucian got up and moved toward his shampoo and toothpaste. After a quick second of consideration, Lucian thought, Eh, screw it. He just couldn’t be bothered to care about personal hygiene at that moment; he wanted to sleep.
Lucian continued on over to the light switch and took one last look at Argus, who was lying silently on his back with his eyes closed and hands folded across his stomach. Flipping the lights off, Lucian made his way back over to his bed. Pulling back the covers, he took off his shoes and climbed in, prefer-ring to keep all of his clothes on while this stranger was staying with him. He rolled over on his right side so that he would be facing Argus, just in case he should need to wake up and defend himself suddenly. Keeping his eyes open for a moment, Lucian closed them for a second, then snapped them open again without warning. Argus hadn’t moved and was still lying in the same fashion as before.
Closing his eyes again, Lucian heard a “Goodnight, Lucian,” from the bed opposite his.
“Goodnight, Argus,” Lucian responded politely, yet awkwardly. This wasn’t a middle school sleepover.
“Oh, feel free to call me Gus,” responded Argus through the pale light that was slowly intensifying around them. “Most of my mortal friends do.”
“Okay, Gus,” Lucian said back, too exhausted to combat the ridiculousness any longer. “Goodnight.”
With this, Lucian found that he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, and, within seconds, he had fallen into a deep sleep.
* * *
It was just before dawn, and the sky held the first hues of morning, when the tall, silver-eyed figure ascended the stone steps of the old brick mansion on the hill. He walked briskly, the base of his long black jacket trailing behind him as he marched up, a gold coin swinging across his chest. When he reach-ed the giant oaken doors at the entrance, they sprang open with the slightest wave of the visitor’s hand. Into the hall he strode, down the long, narrow foyer toward the main doorway at the very end. The decor of the building was quite ornate, with gargantuan chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and vast paint-ings adorning every wall. Every step taken by the dark visitor was hard, and the sound of each boot hitting the floor reverberated off the stone beneath it and echoed off the walls. When the man reached the door at the end of the hall, he stopped directly in front and waited only seconds before it swung open of its own accord. The man entered.
Inside this room, several bookshelves were set up against the walls, filled with all manner of ancient tomes. In the center, a grouping of furniture stood atop an ornate rug, the biggest of which was a large elegant armchair. Off to the side of the room, a man stood in front of the roaring flames of a beautifully crafted fireplace. He was dressed in a scarlet and black robe that reached down to the floor and covered his neck almost completely with a high collar. The sleeves flared out at the bottom, leaving ample room for the black gloved hands to move freely. His blonde hair hung just low enough to cover his forehead, which itself was hidden by a golden mask equipped with only eye holes and no mouth. He held one hand up on the mantle as the other was held across his lower back. He stared intently into the flames before him as if he was deep in discussion with some unseen presence.
As the newcomer entered the room and stood next to the low wooden table occupying the center of the floor, the masked man turned his head toward him and very smoothly said, “Welcome, Zagan. So good to see you again…, albeit in a different host.” The voice was articulate, yet muffled by the mask which covered the individual’s mouth.
“Samael. You are looking… theatrical, as always,” Zagan said dryly. A look of disgust crept across the demon’s face. “We need to discuss some things….”
“Indeed,” replied Samael, dropping his right arm from the mantle and crossing it against his left, behind his back. He took a few steps forward to stand before his visitor. “Our Lord is none too pleased about your failure to acquire the necessary relic for the ceremony.”
Spreading his legs a little wider, Zagan assumed a more aggressive stance. Leaning forward, he said loudly, “Well, I was never informed that there were Kílánór in this region. Argus is now well aware of my return. I can only guess at how many others also know. My power is not yet fully consolidated, and I am currently in no condition for actual battle.”
“Eh,” Samael stated, casually dismissing Zagan’s foreboding by swiping his hand through the air. “You dealt with Argus quite effectively before, if I remember correctly.” The masked man began to walk slowly around Zagan’s left side, as if he was a shark stalking its prey.
“Yes, but he has had four hundred years to hone his skills while I wasted away in that infernal prison,” replied Zagan with a look of disdain. He remained facing the fire, but his eyes cautiously watched as Samael paced around him. “Also, there was some boy there. Amateur at best, but he possesses a power with which I am not familiar….”
“Ha! Afraid of a boy now?” laughed Samael, mock-ingly, as he turned away from his circular path and toward Zagan. By this point, he had already reached Zagan’s flank, and the demon was forced to spin around to once again face the masked man. “You know as well as I do that the tearing of the veil accompanying your return to this plane has the potential to generate some residual energy effects, especially this close to
Samhain. The boy is likely particularly susceptible to changes resulting from exposure to spiritual energy. Just dispose of him and focus instead on the mission at hand.”
“I believe that you are not considering this threat as seriously as you should,” snarled Zagan, taking a step forward to assert the gravity of his position.
“And I believe that you forget to whom you speak!” roared Samael angrily, immediately closing the gap between them and holding his masked countenance less than a foot from Zagan’s borrowed face. The two opponents stood at roughly the same height, and Samael’s wide hazel eyes shone through the darkness of the mask and seemed to sear right through Zagan’s very being. “You would do well to remember, Zagan, that Our Lord has chosen to speak through me. You are not in any position of authority, and you know as well as I that you have no power while on this property. Now, focus on the mission that has been given to you and succeed, or you shall be sent back to the putrid hole whence you crawled. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” scowled Zagan as he averted his gaze away from Samael’s and down to the floor beside them.
“Splendid,” remarked the masked one, taking a step back and regaining his formal composure. “See to it that you do not fail us again, or Our Lord may begin to question your allegiance to Him.”
“I do not care about your plans,” Zagan retorted. “I seek only to repay my debt to Him, then be free to exact my vengeance upon the filthy beings of this realm.”
“How pleasant…,” said Samael dryly. “Remember that, while you are working for me, I expect you to keep the collateral casualties to a minimum. I would not appreciate drawing unwanted attention to our movements this soon.” After turning his back to Zagan and taking a few more steps away, Samael motioned with his hand for Zagan to leave.
“Yes…,” mumbled the demon disparagingly. Zagan headed back toward the entrance of the room with a defeated air and lowered posture.
“Oh, and Zagan…,” called out Samael as Zagan paused in front of the doorway, not bothering to turn back toward the man who addressed him. “One final thing. Do make sure you stay in control of the host form I provided for you. I was well acquainted with him, and he can be rather strong-willed and a bit of a handful. I trust that you shall encounter no difficulties keeping him subjugated….”