Book III of III: The Elysian Dynasty
THE WAR OF ALL WARS!
J. Eric Booker
Smashwords Edition
Copyright J. Eric Booker, 2008.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Booker Enterprises Publishing Co.
BOOK III OF III: The Elysian Dynasty:
The War of all Wars
Publisher's Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or, are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
Booker, J. Eric, The War of all Wars
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DEDICATION
I would like to dedicate this book to my stepdad Lawrence G. Burns. You did a great job in being a great man, father, and author.
R.I.P.
“War is hell!”
- General Tecumseh Sherman
EXCERPTED FROM BOOK II:
The Reign of the Sultan
The day finally came when the last nation on the planet joined the Sharia Empire, still under the reign of Sultan Baltor Elysian the XVth.
Overall, it had taken this single man a grand total of one hundred and fifty-eight years to make his “one world nation,” most of which had been “very peaceful and prosperous years.”
Baltor was now one hundred eighty-two years old, but strikingly looked no older than he was when he was twenty—whenever asked about his “fountain of youth,” he always replied, “I am an immortal. I will never grow old nor will I ever die.”
Three million elite soldiers of all ranks, as well a little more than forty-five thousand giant hawks, now served under his imperial command, many of whom he frequently trained with in his expert martial arts on a military fort that engulfed an entire small continent—complete with fortified walls, training grounds, barracks, mess halls, and command buildings. Every city in the world, of course, had its own military base.
He had personally designed this continent-sized fort seventy years ago, just in case of another massive dark-gnome army who teleported from another dimension with the goal to conquer his world. Thankfully, this event had not ever happened again, yet. An equally impressive accomplishment for Baltor was the fact that thanks to his imperial laws of “peace, duty, honor, and glory for all,” poverty, hunger, and slavery had been eradicated!
For, in every city and town all across the world, there were now free food and/or home shelters, which 24-hour shelters simultaneously schooled and/or job-trained, based on the desires and the skills of the individual—child or adult.
Besides all the qualified staff and teachers needed to run these shelters, which job positions quickly became filled, many more types of careers were available to choose from—artists, cooks, seamstresses, blacksmiths, carpenters, stonemasons, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, law-enforcers, and of course, military recruiters.
After all, it was also imperial law that by the age of twenty-four years old, every male and female must serve minimally one year as a soldier in the Sharia Empire—only those who had severe birth physical defects or mental disabilities were exempt. As an added bonus, anyone could become an “officer’s candidate,” if that individual attained the rank of “Journeyman” in his or her civilian oriented profession. “Master” was the highest rank, which automatically meant the rank of “lieutenant.” Of course, everyone in the entire world—generation after generation—came to hear and learn for themselves, that their centuries-old Sultan was “an immortal”—statistically, only a really small percentage continued to suspiciously fear Baltor to be “an unnatural and evil creature,” because most loved him.
Whether that news was ultimately true or not, about him being evil, he still took really good care of them all … each and every Moonday he opened Pavelus’s palace gates, and personally listened to the concerns of his people.
The very few who continued to hate their Sultan—no matter what he did for them—rarely ever voiced out his or her opinions, in fear of Baltor’s other indisputable magical powers, including telepathy, clairvoyance, illusions, invisibility, and teleportation of entire armies!
Though none had a single doubt that his powers were true, none who ever tried could duplicate any of his runic magic could, no matter how intelligent he or she inevitably became through life until death. Shortly after this world-unification came to be, and all major conflicts ended, only then did Baltor begin to inwardly wonder—with increasing agitation every single year—where in the hell his own maker, mentor, and master was: Trendon Harrn.
After all, not only had this individual been the one to make him immortal in the first place—one hundred sixty-two years ago—yet the master had simultaneously promised that once Baltor had “mastered the entire world,” he would come back to take his apprentice to the other realms, in order to train him to be a “Watcher.” And, in Baltor’s indisputable opinion, he now mastered this entire world indisputably … no one dared challenge him. Finally his answer came, thirty peaceful and prosperous years later, when he has “a very-very strange dream!” In it, he saw himself slightly leaning against the wall in a megalithic obsidian chamber filled with glowing red magical runes inscribed upon the ceiling, the walls, and even the floor—sinister looking runes that he did not recognize, despite all his centuries of study upon the subject of runic magic.
In the center of this chamber, a second later, a rectangular steel table unexpectedly popped out of nowhere! Yet lying on it was a man—wearing only a loincloth, strapped to the table by foot and handcuffs, and obviously having been severely beaten and whipped from head to toe.
As Baltor’s gaze focused upon the face, he quickly observed that this unconscious man appeared to be none other than the master—Trendon, which greatly surprised the apprentice!
After quickly walking over to the table, he began to make a closer medical examination—though this man appeared to be mortally wounded, especially because of the abdominal tissues sliced open and hanging all out, he saw that this man’s chest was slightly breathing, which meant that this man was still alive, at least for a few more moments…
Deciding to rescue this man right here and now, Baltor’s hands had attempted to grasp the shackle holding this man’s left foot, in order to rip the shackle from the table. Strangely, however, his hand only grasped thin air—as if the shackle was only a phantom … or the other way around!?
Looking back up at the man’s face, Baltor became surprised to see this man’s eyes unexpectedly bulge open, as if fully awake!
However, unlike the previous two encounters he had with Trendon Harrn, this man’s brown eyes did not glow like a prismatic diamond. Suspiciously, Baltor asked, “Are you for real or are you an optical illusion?”
The man answered, “I am not an optical illusion, nor are you…but you are currently in ‘a dream state.’
“Really? Why are you enslaved and ravaged to a pulp like this? Can you possib
ly be my master, the Trendon Harrn?” Baltor asked.
The man answered with a hell of a lot of sorrow, “Yes, my apprentice, I am Trendon Harrn… Baltor, I am truly sorry I was not able to come to your aid before this time—I did mean to shortly after you first mastered your world. However, shortly before my arrival, as you can clearly see, I—your Master—fell into a diabolical trap! Even worse, the Vompareus now have possession and control over the Rod of Ro’shain!”
Though Trendon was about to go on, Baltor interrupted, “Before you continue, sir, I have an important question that must be answered right now, because all you ever gave to me were encrypted hints—is this rod just a teleporting device, or is it more?”
Trendon answered, “To answer your questions in order, no and yes, as the rod is a teleporting device, yet it is also the very key to the door to their Realm of Darkness, of which I made both key and door, and imprisoned the Vompareus there nine thousand years ago…
“That is, until I became captured and imprisoned thirty years ago by the Arch Devils, the rod taken from me, and given to the Vompareus. Now they are free and teleporting from world to world with the rod, killing almost every last person, absorbing their souls, and recruiting into their ranks the few remaining survivors—they’re powers are multiplying every day. If they are not stopped soon, chaos and evil will rule over all the universal realms—they have already conquered three worlds! Finally, know this… It took me thirty years to finally conjure enough power to contact you this way—through your dream…”
Even though a million more questions flooded in Baltor’s mind that he wanted to ask, the first question that came out of his mouth was, “So where are you, my Master?”
While raising his left eyebrow, Trendon painfully answered, “I am now in the Ninth Plane of Hell.”
After unconsciously gulping, Baltor shakily asked, “What…seriously?”
“Yes.”
Almost immediately after Trendon had finished answering his question, Baltor’s heart began to feel quite a bit guilty for damning him to hell that one day, because he had not shown up when Baltor’s one and only beloved Wife and Sultaness had horribly died—Brishava!
The only reason Baltor had wanted Trendon to “show up” at all was to get the permission to make her into an immortal, like he and his master! But the master never showed … anger, once again, began to sprout through Baltor’s mind…
Having telepathically read all of Baltor’s thoughts, Trendon interrupted compassionately, “Yes. Don’t fret about any of that—it’s not your fault I’m here. Nor is it my fault that I did not show on that particular date—I had a lesson to teach you about life and death, which includes losing a loved one who is mortal, of which lesson you’ve obviously learned… Obviously you did learn all your lessons, or you would not have mastered your world on your own! Finally, regarding Brishava, know that her spirit peacefully lives in the Seventh Plane of Heaven…”
After taking a deep breath that caused him even more pain, he continued, “Now please listen, Baltor, as we really don’t have much time left. My devilish captors will soon be back to torture me more, as they have done religiously these last thirty years! If they see you, they will know where to find you, and then all hope will be lost! Only together, you and I, can we stop them for good…”
“How do I get to you?” Baltor asked.
“You must go through all nine planes of hell, in order of succession.
Located on each plane is the ruling Arch-Devil—only he and/or she possess the key that will get you to the next plane…”
Baltor unconsciously gulped once again.
Trendon continued, “To give a brief explanation of how I got imprisoned here, thanks in part to Dreeak, the Vompareus recently struck a deal with the nine Arch Devils—even though they have been blood-thirsty enemies with each other since the Beginning of Time. Together, they diabolically planned a trap for me, of which I obviously fell into…
“Now the two enemies only became allies because the first group recently convinced the second group that when the very last world containing a soul is destroyed, thus will come the ultimate destruction of the heavens. However, just so you know, I still don’t believe the heavens nor the Divine can ever be destroyed, which is why the rest of us are here!
“So now…go and wake up and then come and find me—my enemies have nearly returned—you must go now! Help the universal realms…help me! Help us all! Help yourself…”
A runic symbol appeared in Baltor’s vision for only a single second—in the next second, he awoke from his dream that obviously wasn’t just a dream. For about the next four hours or so, he sat in his bed, meditating on what to do…
On one hand, Baltor considered the fact that he had worked so hard to master this realm—and now he truly was the master of this realm!
On the other hand, if he didn’t do something to help Trendon, the Vompareus would come to this world, sooner or later, and most likely destroy everything and everybody.
Once he had finally made his decision, nearly an hour later, he immediately dispatched hundreds of messengers through the magical portals to each of the Provinces in the world. The message was strictly for the governors; that message was to come to Pavelus the following morning at nine a.m., and that the meeting was to be held at ten.
At nine in the morning, as the governors arrived, one by one, the guards began to respectfully escort them to the palace grounds outside. Meanwhile, Baltor was first dressed into his battle-armor and helmeted-crown by his assistants, and then equipped with his swords and sheaths…
Precisely one hour later, Baltor walked out onto the balcony, and then he declared, “The time has come for me to leave this world, as I have an urgent matter that must immediately be taken care of. Honestly, I do not know how long I will be gone, but I do know that I’m planning on coming back...
“Therefore, my last proclamation as your Sultan is this. The Sharia Empire shall, from here on out, be known as the Sharia Republic.”
Many gasps of shock erupted throughout the crowds.
“I want each and every one of you equally-powerful governors to listen to the concerns of your people, for you to convene and discuss these issues amongst each other every quarter here in this palace, and finally, for you all to vote in the best interests of the Sharia Republic. You shall all be equal in your votes.”
After taking a deep breath, Baltor added, “If I find out that a single one of you is abusing your power, I will come back and destroy you all in the next second—I promise that! So….does anybody have any final questions for me?” The world leaders replied, “No, my Sultan!”
Without hesitation or another word, Baltor turned around and began to draw the rune he had seen in his dream into the air right in front of everyone, which action caused fire to magically appear wherever his fingers moved!
Once completed—a magical portal began to open, containing all these magnificent qualities: ovular-shaped, made entirely of fire, and quite blinding! Everyone, but Baltor, instantly became fearful, forced to not only close their eyes, yet cover those eyes with his or her hands….
While casting his gaze back over his shoulder and throwing a hearty wave of his right hand, he replied, “Farewell everyone!”
Baltor looked ahead, before stepping through the portal into HELL….
The War of all Wars
CHAPTER I
Baltor commenced to walk forward like an expert tightrope walker, with hands spread and each foot stepping directly in front of the other.
After all, a smooth black marble bridge—but six inches wide—happened to be the one-and-only solid object that existed underneath his feet. One wrong move and he would fall off the bridge and into the fiery pits below…in this elemental plane of fire!
What made things ten times more difficult in this daredevil feat was the fact that he had a maximum visibility range of ten feet, thanks to all of the explosive, toxic plumes of black smoke that competed nonstop for supremacy with the
colorful fireballs that exploded just as powerfully.
For this reason, he had no way to decipher the length or the height of this bridge, or what lay at the bottom if he should fall, except for pure fire. Thankfully he was an immortal, or his body would have already “burnt to a crisp” in the scorching temperatures that reached up to one thousand degrees Fahrenheit.
Exactly fifty steps later and yes, he was counting, it was only then that he first began to feel pain—not just all over his exposed face, but even more so his eyeballs and the insides of his nostrils, mouth, throat and lungs. Even worse, his nose had detected the whiff of hair and flesh being cooked—his hair and flesh!
He henceforth closed his mouth, eyelids and nostrils, yet never stopped in his forward progress—not just blind, yet at the same time, trying his very best to ignore the ever-increasing pains on his face and the front of his neck that equaled to first-degree burns.
At this point, he had two major advantages that came into play…first, he did not need oxygen to breathe. Second, he wore flameproof underclothes, armor, boots, gloves and a helmet; and thus, most of his body continued to remain uncooked. At least for now.
Thirty steps later, in which his entire face now suffered from third-degree burns, all of the hair on his head had completely burned off, including his goatee and eyebrows; and his willpower was only then flagging—the bridge, the smoke and the fires disappeared in the blink of an eye. Now, the new environment he had to deal with was being completely submerged near-freezing water.
The very second after his arrival, his hair had begun to regrow at a very rapid pace, as did his skin begin to heal just as fast, including the eyelids that had melted onto the eyeballs. Despite his blindness, which he knew would be temporary, his analytical mind had still figured out that he was now deep underwater in the abysmal plane—four thousand, one hundred and thirty-five feet deep to be exact.
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