The Architect King

by Christopher Schmitz

  “The whole realm might perish if we refuse,” Claire spat. She readied her grip on the kophesh and prepared to launch herself into the storm.

  Zabe growled, but decided he would follow his wife anywhere.

  Shandra could see on the faces of her friends that Cerci had been right, We’re all going to die… but at least we go down together!

  Claire cried out, leading the charge with her weapon held high. As soon as she stepped a toe over the threshold, the Architect King stopped flashing from one place to the next and stopped her, placing both arms on her shoulders in a fatherly gesture.

  “I told you Claire Jones… you must trust me. This is the way it must be in order to ensure your future… a future for all my children.” J’v-Ellah turned aside to glace knowingly at Zabe, who felt sure he’d heard those words before.

  A sharp, ebon spear penetrated the Architect King’s chest as the beast lanced him directly through from behind. Blood splattered onto his daughter and dribbled from the wound where Sh’logath had gored him.

  Claire and the rest screamed. Time seemed to have slowed as the horror of the situation overrode the way their central nervous systems processed data.

  A trickle of blood leaked from J’v-Ellah’s lips, bubbling up from within. Behind him, the agod had used his other appendages to snatch the reality gem.

  Sh’logath held the Tesseract high above the melty lump that passed for his head. He pulled the jagged spike from his enemy’s back and it made a horrific slurking noise.

  The agod locked his dread gaze upon them all and roared, “Now, you will each understand the torment of a thousand years spent in agony! I will dismantle you each, devouring you alive, tasting your fear and anguish one morsel at a time…”

  Chapter 26

  J’v-Ellah put a hand to his wound. He stood straighter, wiped his mouth, and laughed. The Architect King turned and looked directly into the face of the abomination. “You? You really think that you could kill me… or even stop me?”

  Sh’logath screeched, confused and angry to see that J’v-Ellah still stood.

  The Architect King looked down his nose at the enemy. “Nothing cannot possess everything, or even anything. You are nothing, Sh’logath, in a quite literal sense. Nothing except for a greedy void which can never be fulfilled.” J’v-Ellah turned back to look at his daughter and the others and flashed her a wink as if to say, I told you… I knew how this would play out all along.

  Sh’logath vibrated with rage and coiled his tendrils around the crystal he held. The center of the Tesseract clouded within his grip. Something deep within the central, glowing light seemed to crack and turn dark as it reacted to the demon’s attempts to control it. The energy within roiled between the facets.

  In that moment, the Prime cracked; they could all feel it. Tectonic plates broke and shattered, grinding over top of each other. Volcanic activity long dormant erupted fresh, and the planetary crust splintered, releasing ground lightning and eldritch energy.

  “You should have taken my deal,” J’v-Ellah told him. By now, the wound upon the King had healed completely.

  Sh’logath tried to release the jewel, but his slimy appendage would not obey. He panicked, looking for a way to escape from the power of the Tesseract. The agod’s form began to melt away like drips of black rain; the reality gem began consuming him like dust into a cleaning tube.

  He shrieked, “No—no, this can not be!” The power of the Tesseract sucked at him like loose silica pulled toward a vacuum—the inescapable crack in the multi-faceted gem had become an unstable black hole specifically keyed to the dark one. In a split second reversal, the Devourer became the devoured.

  With a final, gasping shriek, the Tesseract collapsed Sh’logath and pulled him within the roiling, black spot. The crystal healed itself and quenched the scattered darkness blooming within it.

  J’v-Ellah picked up the jewel and set it back upon its resting spot. Beneath them, the ground quaked, and the sky rumbled as the fabric of the realm itself groaned and screamed.

  “Entropy and decay have entered the Prime,” J’v-Ellah said. “It will continue unabated until the realm is fully dismantled.”

  Zabe looked at the Architect King with hopeful eyes. “But you can stop it, right? Surely you will set things right?”

  J’v-Ellah cocked his head. “All will be set right in the end,” he said. “But the Prime was never my only priority. This,” we waved his hands to indicate all the created stuff: castles, tapestries, busted thrones, “none of this was ever my priority. Things were never crucial to my plan.”

  Another quake struck. This one was strong enough that some of the stones set upon the castle’s foundation shifted.

  “But we don’t know the plan,” Zabe spat.

  The Architect King put a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. “If you follow me, you won’t need to know every step. You only need the general heading.” Even his rebuke felt kind and warm.

  Zabe closed his mouth and bowed his head. He didn’t like the answer, but he knew it was a deep truth, the kind that could guide a life’s pursuit. The King is in charge… and I am not.

  “But what about the Tesseract?” Claire asked, already hedging away from the Chamber of Mysteries as the ground rumbled again. Somewhere outside, a creaking noise reverberated as if structural beams had given way within some nearby, massive structure. It became increasingly clear that they could not stay here—neither in the castle, nor in the Prime.

  “The Tesseract is safest where it is,” J’v-Ellah said. “However, you are not.”

  He bowed with a smile and watched Claire and the others flee. The Architect King closed and sealed the massive doors behind him, certain that the Tesseract could never again be loosed upon reality. It could never be spoken of again except as legend.

  ***

  Claire and company dashed from the hallways. Support beams and pylons rattled and collapsed behind them. They spilled out and into the courtyard and nearly ran over Jarfig who wore a collection of fresh bandages.

  “Where is our portal?” yelled Wulftone as he frantically searched for it. Cerci’s primary job had been to hold the gate for them.

  Jarfig shook his head. “I do not know. There was… some kind of accident. I did not see—but I heard something attack her.”

  Zurrah’s eyes widened, and he joined the frantic search.

  As Gita rushed to the statue of her sister. Another quake toppled a number of statues. They broke as they hit the ground but Jenner caught the figure of Shara, refusing to let it tip.

  Gita clutched the rune stone in her fist. “I… I don’t know how to use one of these,” she wailed, suddenly realizing the fatal flaw in her plan. She had all the intention and desire in the world to activate it, but none of the knowledge.

  The mystic rune activated of its own accord, needing only the desire of its wielder. It crumbled to dust, as did the eggshell-like layer that encased the child.

  “Gita? Gita!” Shara leapt into her sister’s arms. She was perhaps four years old and did not understand the destruction happening all around her. Everywhere, buildings collapsed and burned.

  “Come on, We’ve got to go!” Jenner scooped up the little girl. They and the others sprinted towards the castle’s fallen gates.

  The dead littered the fields all around the razed villages. Far in the distance, they could see the mustering groups of humans and vyrm. Telltale flashes of light blinked as every capable person used the portal to escape the dying Prime dimension.

  Directly in their path, a massive crack split the ground and opened a fiery fissure. The ground shifted and began to kilter upwards, separating them from the other side where the portal was.

  “We’ve got to jump!” Zabe howled.

  Shara clung to Jenner and Jackie and Claire both skidded to a stop. In a second they would lose the option, but even if they cleared the flames, the fall didn’t look survivable to any except maybe the lycans.

  “Come on, Cerci… where are y
ou?” Zurrah screamed at the sky.

  A skiff zipped out of a nearby gulch and screeched to a halt alongside them. “Do you guys need a lift?” Chira asked, activating the loading plank for them to climb. He bobbed his head to his vyrm copilot who rode shotgun with a pair of binocs as he helped search for survivors. “This here is Chartarra. You might or might not not know him… but we’ve all probably tried to kill each other in years past.”

  “A pleasure,” greeted the scarred vyrm who helped them aboard.

  They clambered into their seats and Chira punched the accelerator.

  He whipped around to give them some room to run and then threw the speed to max. They sailed over the flaming gorge before gravity grabbed them and yanked the vehicle’s weight back towards the ground. The skiff bounced along the dirt and stones kissed the vehicle’s bulk; the impact of the crash overruled the hover thrusters momentarily as the skiff bottomed out for a few moments and then hopped back into the air.

  Claire clutched the railing and gasped for breath, not realizing she’d been holding it in. “Thank you, Chira—we did not think we would make it.”

  The loyal general nodded. “I was making the final rounds, trying to locate any other survivors and whisk them to safety.” He ruffled his own hair. “Honestly, I didn’t even know you guys were out here—none of us did except Basilisk. He and Caivev said you were here, somewhere, trying to take down that snake.” Chira looked at her hopefully. “Did you do it? Did you kill Nitthogr?”

  She nodded resolutely. “Not just Nitthogr; Sh’logath has been defeated once and for all.”

  ***

  Behind Chira and his skiff, his passengers watched as the mountains collapsed in the distance, like melting wax. One at a time, the towers of the Prime’s royal castle fell.

  The battered transport craft slewed to the side and came in for a landing adjacent to the portal. Jarfig looked down and at the box he still held onto without thinking about it. He knew only enough about the inter-planar gates to understand that they normally required blood to operate them—a planetary evacuation of this scale would have required so much of it… but the gate-box had kept it open with no sacrifice required.

  Basilisk and Caivev waited for them on the platform. Trenzlr stood by and nodded to the princess when their eyes met. Crowds of people still remained, but at the rate which they poured through the portals, the population would all be able to escape before the tectonic disruption and lava sprays had gotten to them.

  A single-file line of vyrm prisoners walked towards them from the battlefield. They walked with hands clutched behind their heads and picked their way through a maze of busted planetary crust. Only a safe path remained for those on foot.

  The prisoners wore the colors of the Black. With Sh’logath’s hold on them broken, the enemy combatants had come to beg for leniency. A distinct figure led them through the trail to safety; his kingly robes fluttered on the hot winds and eddies of steam. J’v-Ellah walked up the steps to the platform with his captive army of vyrm in tow.

  Basilisk and Caivev both knelt before the Architect King. The vyrm emperor grinned and shook his head in borderline disbelief. “You told me once that this would happen: that I would bend my knee again… after I came to grips with my unanswerable question… but I did not imagine the rest of this.”

  “And did you answer it?”

  The Emperor inclined his head forward.

  J’v-Ellah returned his nod with equally measured grace. “Please accept these soldiers into your service,” he said of the Black.

  “But they are enemies,” Caivev said, “Traitors. They deserve to stay here and perish in the flames.”

  The Architect King looked down on them. It was clear that they could hear the exchange. “I agree. That would be fair… but we do not always get what we deserve. Sometimes we receive mercy instead, whether we understand that or not. If we all gave and accepted only what was deserved, life would have ceased long ago.”

  He looked into Caivev’s eyes. “I desire mercy for them. Like you, they are also my children—even if by adoption.” His eyes sparkled.

  Caivev bowed and stepped aside so the remaining vyrm could access the gate.

  Claire, Zabe, and all the others watched as J’v-Ellah turned to Basilisk. “I am true to my word. You answered my question and have knelt to my authority. Now that you know what it is, I will grant you the desire of your heart, as promised.”

  The Architect King looked over the collected crowds of humanity and vyrm. “Basilisk, keep my children safe and remember that the Prime is eternal. It is not a mere place—it is a people and a connection to my spirit which will never end. It may dim and it may brighten, but my flame will never go out.”

  In the blink of an eye, the Architect King disappeared.

  Basilisk stood in awe of the responsibility that the King had bestowed upon him. The full retreat was already well underway, but he gave the official declaration anyway. “Hurry, everyone. Back to the Deso… Back to Edenya,” he corrected.

  ***

  With the world dying all around him, Gerjha blinked. His head swam, and he fell in and out of consciousness as if in a fever dream. He could feel the heat of the lava flows burning all around him and he heard the crunching sounds of collapsing structures. The Prime rumbled in its death throes. He gritted his teeth against the agony he felt in his torso where he’d been split open by the blade of his countryman, a fellow Maethan.

  He groaned as he felt a pair of strong arms lift him up. Gerjha’s eyes came into focus, but barely. The prophet felt cold, despite the abundance of lava. He knew he was bleeding to death and that he had probably slipped beyond the ability of medical professionals to heal.

  “Wh-who are you?” Gerjha croaked through his growing partial blindness. Acrid smoke bit his eyes, though he guessed the lack of blood had more to do with their malfunction than anything else.

  “You do not recognize me?”

  Gerjha’s eyes widened. “You are the Architect King… the god and master of the Tesseract?”

  The man nodded as he carried the wounded vyrm, “I am known by other names as well, for those who know them.”

  Gerjha put a hand on the man’s cheek. He whispered reverently, “You are Maetha?”

  The Architect King’s skin turned scaly. “I have also been called J’v-Ellah, amongst other things.”

  Gerjha sighed. He remembered that J’v-Ellah was the earliest name of the creator of Edenya. Children’s stories insisted that the vyrm had worshiped him prior to drifting off and into their own devices; that slow fade had led to the Thousand Elders and the summoning of Sh’logath. Most vyrm rejected that story with knee-jerk vitriol—its truth indicated their species had fallen from grace and were without excuse. The strong always hated weaknesse exposed, Gerjha thought.

  He asked, “Am I dead?”

  J’v-Ellah shook his head and spoke with a calm and comforting demeanor. “No. But you will be soon.”

  Gerjha touched the wound on his torso as the Architect King carried him across the burning plains. There was no more blood to lose, it seemed, and the pain had lessened. Sadness did not overwhelm him—he felt an overwhelming sense of resignation. Gerjha understood that it had to be this way—there was purpose in even the end of life.

  “I made you promises while you were yet in your mountain-top circle, Gerjha. Do you remember them?”

  “I… they were mere whispers… I remember them,” he gasped groggily, “but also I do not.”

  J’v-Ellah smiled at him, carrying him as if he were no heavier than a child. “That is okay. I remember them for you, and I do not go back on my word. I promised you that you would see the fulfillment of many divine promises… and I have one I pledged to show you.”

  They winked through the dimensions and left the Prime. J’v-Ellah stood where the trouble all started: the sanctum of the Thousand Elders.

  “Are we… are we in Straruck?” Gerjha asked, recognizing the massive, crumbling tomb and the monum
ent to Sh’logath’s followers.

  “We are. This is where evil was unleashed and this is where all will be made new.” J’v-Ellah carried his friend outside and leaned him up against the exterior of the building.

  Gerjha sat with his back to the main building in Straruck. The massive, domed structure groaned; it was here that the ancient vyrm had built an altar to themselves and honored their own unique kinds of brilliance. Gerjha watched as grass sprang up from the cracked and desolate landscape; the plains began to turn green with seed and stem.

  The wounded prophet whispered “Edenya has returned,” and then his chin dipped gently to his chest, never to rise again. With Gerjha’s last breath, the building at his back began to crumble. It collapsed in on itself, ending the reign of the Thousand Elders once and for all.

  J’v-Ellah put one hand against the vacant eyes of his servant closed them. He walked out and into the vast, lush Plains of Neggath and evaporated like a cloud of ash, promising aloud, “I will always dwell unseen with my children, all of my children.”

  Chapter 27

  Edenya

  Basilisk sat amongst his new council of political advisers. It included a number of humans and vyrm in mixed company. Several days had passed since their return to Edenya. There had been many tense moments and exchanges, but luckily they had weathered them all thus far.

  Temporary housing had been in supply after Jeerzha’s rebellion, but there were many other issues that required boundaries or rules established to keep the peace. This new paradigm was something that none of them had ever lived with and new changes came along with a vibrant, living Edenya where both humans and vyrm coexisted. None of had ever seen that before; none had even entertained such a notion prior to the Prime’s breaking.

  Cries had gone up initially from the humans demanding that Claire be propped up as a co-leader or have some influential position of power established for her. In a very public gathering, Claire declined a position when offered.