NiDemon

by Cormier, Shawn P.

  "She has power. I sense it," said Bulcrist. "It is weak, but there. You will learn to sense such things when you develop your Nihilic abilities."

  Ilien looked at Windy, his mind reaching out to touch hers.

  "Don't even think about it," said Windy evenly.

  "No doubt your father is ordinary," said Bulcrist, "even though he is a king. However, your mother is not."

  "I don't have a mother," said Windy. "She died when I was very young."

  "A lie," said Bulcrist. "Nomadin do not simply die. Your mother is a wizardess, and alive and well, I'm sure. The tale of her death was meant to keep you from learning her true identity. Her love affair with the King of Evernden was bad enough. Having a forbidden child, even one only half Nomadin, forced her to leave to keep your heritage safely hidden. But Ilien is a different matter altogether. Both of his parents are Nomadin. Gallund the wizard, who you seek to rescue, and Gilindilin, yet another wizardess gone missing."

  He turned to Ilien. "They did a poor job at hiding you, though a Nomadin child with your powers would have been discovered soon enough. I suppose that's why Gallund chose to teach you magic, if you call his True Language magic. He thought he was giving you a fighting chance should the other Nomadin learn of your existence. It was a losing race against time. Sooner or later you would have faced the Nomadin's judgement, and no amount of magic could have saved you from their combined might."

  Bulcrist lifted his glass from off the table. His finger danced over it and he watched as it magically filled with wine. He took a careful sip and set it back down. "There is a war raging all around us, though your world of Nadae doesn't know it. The last battle of the Nihilic Wars was fought five hundred years ago. Believe me when I tell you that tens of thousands still die every day. The Nomadin know it, and they will stop at nothing to keep their precious Nadae a haven for as long as possible." Bulcrist stared at Windy. "Even if it means killing innocent children."

  "I find it hard to believe that the Nomadin would do such a thing," said Windy. "I was taught that the killing of innocents belonged to the NiDemon."

  "You were taught many ill-truths," said Bulcrist. "The Nomadin are responsible for more senseless deaths than you could ever know, but they don't do the killing themselves. How nasty that would be. There is plenty of filth in the world eager to do it for them. Filth, I might add, that wouldn't exist at all if it wasn't for the Nomadin. Witches, Giants, Wierwulvs . . . Grolls."

  Ilien flinched.

  Bulcrist took another careful sip of his wine. "All assassins of Nomadin-born children, and particularly good at what they do. There aren't many of us left."

  "Us?" said Ilien. "Don't be so quick to count us as one of you."

  "Ah, but you already are one of us. Don't you know? NiDemon. Nomadin. They are one and the same. Our differences, what you see as black and white, are only shades of the same color grey. We are all Nomadin-born, third of the Laws to be written, created before light and after the very Ether itself. There never were any NiDemon. There never will be. It is a word only, a word used to describe the Nomadin who continue to follow Reknamarken, who believe that the Creator still knows best. It is now a word that those in power use to describe the two of you."

  "We are not NiDemon!" replied Ilien. "I've heard these lies already, that the Nomadin are responsible for the evil that exists in the world, that they imprisoned the Creator, fought two bloody wars and killed countless people for their twisted sense of freedom. You and Philion preach your sermons from memory."

  "Do you forget who sent the Groll to kill you?"

  Windy watched Ilien's face. "I don't like this, Ilien. I don't think I want to hear anymore."

  "Oh, but you must," said Bulcrist. "I haven't even begun. I promised you a tale, and a tale you shall have." He raised a finger in the direction of the double doors. They closed with a bang. Windy flew from her chair and raced to Ilien's side of the table. She stood behind him as Ilien sat defiantly before the NiDemon. "Pay close attention," commanded Bulcrist. "The fate of countless lives hangs in the balance. Wars beyond your comprehension hinge on the ending of my tale, and the ending may hinge on you."

  After a long silence, he softened his tone and beckoned to Windy. "Come, princess. Sit back down. My tale will not hurt you. Come. Sit."

  Windy hesitated, but Ilien nodded and she reluctantly returned to her chair beside the NiDemon.

  The magical light in the room dimmed. Bulcrist raised his wine glass to his lips once more, and placed it empty on the table before him. When he looked up, his eyes glowed red in the gloom. "The tale you are about to hear is only a fragment of the what is known, and less than a few of any living today know it well from beginning to end. I will attempt to condense it, but in my shortened tale you will learn the answers to all you questions, if only you will listen." With that, he began.

  "In the beginning, the very beginning, the Creator penned the Laws, the first of the original creations. Original because initial creation was brief, and meant only to be furthered by its own evolution. The Laws, being the first, were the basis of creation itself. If ever broken, creation would cease. The Ether came next, the endless void which the Laws would govern, in which all subsequent creation would occur. The Nomadin were created third, and it was their vow to uphold the Laws. As long as the Laws held, creation would expand forever to fill the Ether. Finally came Light, the source of all life. The Creator then vanished. All was as intended. Life flourished, bound by absolute Law but free to act within it, but some Nomadin grew concerned."

  "As creation prospered it became unruly. Evil first revealed itself. Nameless at first, this new entity seemed harmless. Some Nomadin saw it as a natural part of creation, a part of its inevitable evolution, to be left to itself, free to prosper as long as it acted within the Laws. Other Nomadin saw it as something that existed outside the Creator's Laws. They feared that if left unchecked it would spread throughout the Ether, blighting creation and threatening existence itself. It was a parasite. It needed to be stamped out, and that's exactly what they did, stamp it out. A host of Nomadin confronted the nameless entity and destroyed it, much to the disappointment of the other Nomadin."

  "Thus a rift occurred within the Nomadin. On one side sat those who clung to their vow to uphold the Laws of Creation, nothing more. They saw the eradication of Evil as being outside their duties, as tinkering with Creation itself, as sacrilege. On the other side stood those who believed Creation needed more guidance. After all, the nameless Evil might someday return. That it appeared in the first place strengthened their belief that the Laws were not enough. Like a beautiful garden, Creation needed constant pruning. Led by an outspoken Nomadin named Reknamarken, they split with the others, and were ever after called the NiDemon. This split led to a fierce war that spread throughout the Ether, embroiling all Creation in its wake. And it did something even more insidious. It distracted the Nomadin from their vow. Evil secretly returned."

  "The Creator reappeared then, demanding an end to the war, but the Nomadin refused to listen. Blinded by their hatred of the ones they now called NiDemon, they failed to see who stood before them. They believed the Creator was the NiDemon Reknamarken, warped so badly by his desire to control all creation that he was now unrecognizable. We NiDemon saw otherwise. We knew who stood before us. We urged the Nomadin to heed the Creator's words, but that only strengthened their belief that it was all a trick, that the NiDemon would stop at nothing to win the war. Emboldened and in a fury, the Nomadin attacked, and we opposed them with the Creator at our side."

  "Thus began the War of the Crossings."

  "I've heard of that war," interrupted Ilien. "The Nomadin won, closing the last of the Crossings to Loehs Sedah nearly a thousand years ago." He fell silent, suddenly remembering the NiDemon's admonition not to interrupt him.

  But Bulcrist seemed pleased that Ilien had spoken. "Yes, the Nomadin did prevail, and the last of the Crossings were indeed closed a thousand years ago. But not all the Crossings led to Loe
hs Sedah."

  "What are Crossings?" asked Windy, and both Ilien and Bulcrist turned to look at her. "Well, some of us don't know!"

  Ilien shook his head, but Bulcrist smiled. "The Ether is infinite," he explained, "yet there is a way to travel to all its farthest corners, a way open to Nomadin and NiDemon alike. These are the Crossings, doorways you could call them, and they touch every world throughout the Ether. Does that answer your question?" Windy nodded. "At first the Crossings were used to further the war," continued the NiDemon, "but after we joined with the Creator, or Reknamarken as he was now called, they were used by the Nomadin to escape. Though they outnumbered us, we had the power of the Creator on our side. The Nomadin were soon on the run, and they had scarcely a place to hide. Most worlds welcomed the rule and order we offered. Yes, some freedoms had to be abolished, and not all creation took to our ways, but that is the price for peace, for a world without Evil. To place absolute freedom above peace is a dangerous thing."

  "But without freedom, what good is peace?" asked Windy, evidently no longer concerned about interrupting.

  "There is freedom, and then there is absolute freedom," replied Bulcrist. "They are two different things. One leads to prosperity for all, the other to universal misery. There is no such thing as peace with absolute freedom, and there never will be. We are all governed by rules for the greater good. Take your father, for instance. He is a king, but he is bound by the laws he himself created for his subjects. He knows all too well that there is a fine line between prosperity and misery, and freedom is at its center. But the Nomadin lost sight of that some time ago, blinded by their fight for the absolute freedom they considered sacred. When it became clear that Reknamarken and his NiDemon were winning the war, they deemed that the only way to stop us was to close the Crossings. This they did in secret with the help of a very special map, a map that showed the location of every Crossing on every world throughout the Ether."

  The map, thought Ilien. Could it be the map from his dream? The map the Nephalim had been after? It had to be. A chill ran through him. In his dream, Gallund had possessed the map. But how? Where did he get it?

  "It was a map we knew existed," continued Bulcrist, "but never thought would be used for such a purpose. After all, to close the Crossings prevented both Nomadin and NiDemon alike from traveling throughout the Ether. Once all the Crossings on a world were closed, there you would stay forever. It seemed self-defeating. But the Nomadin had other plans."

  "One by one with the help of the map they closed the Crossings, and in a very systematic way, always trapping twice as many Nomadin on a world as NiDemon. Thus it would only be a matter of time before that world fell under Nomadin rule—or unrule, for their tolerant ways let Evil prosper wherever they prevailed. One by one, step by step, world by world, they continued. We realized their plan too late. Soon it was we who were on the run, the few remaining NiDemon, and the Necromancer, as they now called the Creator. Using the few remaining Crossings still open, we fled and regrouped. But we were falling into yet another trap, for the Nomadin had left nothing to chance. They were herding us, corralling us, directing us to one final meeting place where they could close the final Crossing and deal with us once and for all. A tiny world where magic ran strong. Your very world of Nadae."

  Bulcrist regarded his wine glass and ran a finger around its rim. "Two things happened then that the Nomadin did not plan on," he said, looking up. "When we came to Nadae it was a magical paradise, full of enchantment and ancient sorcery. The source of this magic was the Drowsy Wood, and it stretched the world over. Never had we seen such beauty and raw energy on any other world. The people of Nadae were simple and kind. They welcomed us with open arms, and we found a brief respite from our flight. We found something else, too. We discovered that the magic of the Drowsy Wood filled the Creator with unbelievable power, as if Nadae had been the very starting place of creation itself. When the Nomadin arrived, closing the last Crossing behind them, determined to defeat us with their overwhelming numbers, the tides of battle turned against them. We routed them at every turn. It seemed we were favored to control Nadae, to bring peace at last to one small corner of the Ether. It would be a tiny victory, but one that we deemed would bring closure to our struggle. With the final Crossing closed and the Nomadin eradicated, Nadae would be ours."

  Bulcrist sighed. "But it wasn't so. The Nomadin fought as if possessed. For the second thing that happened filled them with dread. They discovered something we didn't, but soon would. Crossings could be reopened. The Nomadin had unwisely carried the map of every Crossing with them, trapping it on Nadae. If we conquered Nadae and took possession of the map, we could reopen the Crossings and reclaim the Ether. That's when the unthinkable happened. The map was lost. The battle for Nadae took an ugly turn."

  Bulcrist looked from Ilien to Windy. "This is what became known on your world as the War of the Crossings, and it lasted for ten long years—until the Nomadin discovered the source of Reknamarken's power. Once they learned that the magical forest strengthened the Necromancer, they immediately set about destroying it, tearing down the trees, ripping out the roots and razing it to the bare earth. The tides turned again. Without the magic of the Drowsy Wood to aid us, we were defeated. Reknamarken disappeared and was assumed dead. The NiDemon who were not killed in the war surrendered. Though the Nomadin no longer held the map, they were able to briefly reopen two Crossings. One was used to banish the NiDemon to a particularly nasty place."

  "Loehs Sedah," whispered Ilien. "The land of the dead."

  "Yes, Loehs Sedah. But not the land of the dead—the land of the NiDemon, for many were banished there from many different worlds. It is a barren place, devoid of life, bitter cold, a world chosen by the Nomadin because, though every world has a Crossing to it, there is only one Crossing from it. Thus they banished nearly all the remaining NiDemon to an inescapable world."

  "You said two Crossings were opened," said Ilien. "What of the other?"

  The shadows deepened beneath Bulcrist's eyes. "If Loehs Sedah is rumored to be the land of the dead, then the second Crossing they opened leads straight to hell itself."

  Windy shrank in her chair.

  "This second Crossing was used to banish the spirit creatures that fought alongside Reknamarken in the war."

  "Spirit creatures like the Nephalim?" asked Ilien.

  Bulcrist regarded Ilien curiously. "You know of the Nephalim?" he asked. "Then you know the danger I speak of."

  "I've heard tales of them," said Ilien. He bit back his thoughts. He wasn't ready to reveal his dream, especially to Bulcrist. Then something the Nephalim had said struck Ilien with such clarity that he nearly gasped. Then the map will be mine. The Nephalim had been seeking the map. It wanted to reopen the second Crossing!

  "There are many tales of the Nephalim and their cruel ways," said Bulcrist. "But such shadows are only one in a great multitude of dark forces. The Nephalim, though cunning and powerful, are only servants of even greater spirits. Once, the Ether was full of such creatures, for life took many more forms than just flesh and blood. They rallied to the Creator's aid during the war, and many followed us to Nadae at the very end. Powerful in magic they were. But the war had turned them into monstrous killers, evil beyond what even we had guessed. They made formidable allies, and even more formidable enemies. In the end even we NiDemon were glad to see them banished. If there is one belief that both Nomadin and NiDemon hold true, it is that the second Crossing must never be reopened."

  Bulcrist stopped and casually passed a hand above his wine glass, again signing in the air with his finger. The glass slowly filled, and he took a long drink, placing it on the table with a sigh. He studied the two young people before him, as if determining their willingness to hear more. Satisfied, he continued.

  "And now here is the part that concerns you most, though there is much I've told you that will play a part in your futures already. As you know, Reknamarken was not killed in the War of the Crossings. He was weak
ened only, weakened to the point of near nonexistence. With both the Necromancer and the NiDemon gone, an uneasy peace fell over Nadae for the next five hundred years. But uneasy peace always leads to war, and that's what happened in the Nihilic Wars."

  Again Bulcrist stopped, regarding his wine glass with a glow in his eyes. "Nihilic. The language of power," he whispered.

  He looked at Ilien and his eyes took on the hue of his wine. "Not all the NiDemon were banished after the War of the Crossings. A few were able to flee into the most inhospitable parts of the world. Some still were lost in the shuffle, so to speak. These secretly infiltrated the ranks of the Nomadin, biding their time, pretending to be something they weren't. Meanwhile, they began to study an ancient and powerful language, a language native to Nadae, though long since forgotten by most."

  "Nihilic, it was called. The Untrue Language it would later be branded by the Nomadin. Through their study of Nihilic, the few remaining NiDemon located the weakened Creator, and secretly strengthened him. Although all the Crossings were closed, and help from their banished brothers and sisters was impossible, they found aid enough without much trouble. There were many evils in the world that prospered under Nomadin rule. An example of freedom run amuck. The NiDemon were loath to accept help from such scum, but it was a necessary evil. Our goal was to reclaim the map, open the Crossing to Loehs Sedah and free our banished comrades. We knew who had it, you see. Amandalia, the Witch Queen of the northern most mountains, the mountains known as King's Crown. She was a powerful enemy, but we were confident in our success. We had a secret army of wierwulvs, Grolls and Giants, armed with weapons emblazoned with Nihilic runes, magical weapons to aid us in retrieving the map. Once we possessed the map we would possess victory over the Nomadin. We would reopen the Crossing to Loehs Sedah."

  Bulcrist sighed and shook his head. The glow in his eyes dwindled. "But we blundered yet again. We underestimated the Nomadin and how far they would go to stop us. Word reached them that a witch was responsible for stealing the map. The fact that they didn't know who or where didn't hinder them. They simply rounded up any and all who may have been witches. A witch hunt. Thousands of innocent women were killed, tortured and coerced to tell lies to win their freedom, then killed anyhow. But the Nomadin's atrocities proved fruitless. Witches are creatures of the spirit world can take any form they choose. It was a lesson the Nomadin would never forget. The Queen and her witches escaped unscathed, but not unchanged. They became much more cautious, and even more dangerous, and our chances of reclaiming the map for ourselves were dashed."