The Kakos Realm Collection

by Christopher D Schmitz

  “I cannot do so,” Zeh-Ahbe’ stated meekly.

  “You refuse the kil-yaw’?” Mil-khaw-mah’ shouted, forgetting his place again.

  Sehkel-saykel gave Mil-khaw-mah’ a fierce look to silence him. Mil-khaw-mah’ quieted, but his rage only further stoked when pent up; agitated muscles rippled under his skin. With fur bristled in anger, his eyes smoldered with an intensity that only augured ill for any member of the Say-awr’ he might later find.”

  “No,” Zeh-Ahbe’ stated, “I do not refuse the kil-yaw’. I said that I can not do as requested; it has become impossible for any of my clan. We have lost our ability to transform, and thus it is impossible for me to meet the requirement.”

  Silence reigned for a brief second and then Sim-khaw’, leader of Zaw-nawb’ erupted in laughter. The rest of the council followed suit except for the members of the always-guarded Ahee-sthay-tay’-ree-on and except for Mil-khaw-mah’. The leader of Kaw-bade’ remained too focused on his disgust for the lowest of the tribes to find the situation humorous.

  As the laughter died away, Sehkel-saykel asked, “How exactly did this happen? Is the entire tribe truly stripped of its ability? Does your scald still have its power?”

  Zeh-Ahbe’ stood, so that all would see and hear him properly. “May I address the kil-yaw’?” he asked.

  Sehkel-saykel, always cautious for protocol, shook his head negatively. “The kil-yaw’ is not meeting at this moment. We cannot properly come to order until you have altered your form; you may, however, address us all as the heads of our individual tribes. You may speak.”

  “Thank you, wise one,” Zeh-Ahbe’ said. Before he spoke, the former werewolf paused for a brief moment of silent prayer. God, give me the words to say to these men whom I have known for so long. Help me to say the right things.

  Zeh-Ahbe’ sighed and tried to clear his mind of the fear wreathing through it. “We have, every one of us, traded our power for one that is even greater, receiving eternal life and glory.”

  He paused again, feeling sure of himself now. The words he spoke were sure to appeal to the werewolves’ lust for power and quests for glory. Breathy chuckles from the nearby leaders shattered his self-confidence.

  The ever-spiteful Mil-khaw-mah’ taunted him, “You do not look so powerful now, pinkling. Even if you could live in that form forever, what good is that?”

  Zeh-Ahbe’ worked his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. He tried again. “Let me tell you what happened a couple of days ago. Maybe then you will understand.”

  The flustered former werewolf relayed the events of the last couple of days. He told them how he was invited at random by a coffee bean vendor who claimed he’d heard a great story in the Grinden Park. Zeh-Ahbe’ related his feeling of overwhelming conviction about the story’s claims to absolute right and absolute wrong. He gave a synopsis of Kevin’s message, about the Messiah, the lies of Luciferianism, and the impact of Heaven and Hell.

  “The things that this man, Kevin, said have answered every question that I ever had about the nature of morality and of good and evil. The funny thing is that I did not even know that I searched for answers until I heard him speak and ask the questions.”

  In the pause that followed, Zeh-Ahbe’ felt the sting of regret over every unclear phrase in his words, for every stutter and fumbled word, and there were many of them. Despite being a tribe leader, the Say-awr’ were the lowest and he’d rarely needed to speak about matters of any importance. “I wish that you could all hear Kevin speak; he is much more eloquent than I am. I barely know anything about this faith, except for how it has impacted me so completely and personally.”

  The tribal leaders eyed Zeh-Ahbe’ suspiciously. None seemed moved in the least by his words; Sehkel-saykel sat in his place, stoic as ever.

  A few of the other leaders began looking to Sehkel-saykel as their collective mouthpiece, wondering what course of action and questions he would have.

  Finally, Sehkel-saykel spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Because you believe in what this man has said and accepted it as the truth, you can no longer shapeshift?”

  “Yes, and no,” Zeh-Ahbe’ said. “When I made my choice to accept Jesus’ payment for my sins, I made the choice to only follow Jesus and only rely on His power beyond my own—beyond that granted by the scald of the Say-awr’. I had to choose: serve this one God or not serve this one God. To truly serve Him meant to stop serving all other gods, including myself and my own desire for power.”

  Sim-khaw’, the leader of Zaw-nawb’, shook his mangy head. “This sounds like a conspiracy to me,” he claimed, “like a way for the Say-awr’ to elevate itself above the Zaw-nawb’ and make us the lowest tribe!”

  Several of the other tribal heads began talking amongst themselves. Sehkel-saykel let them argue for several minutes; the kil-yaw’ had not officially met yet so there was no real authority that he could use to quell the random outbursts, none except for personal influence. He remained silent and listened to the conversations and debates between the tribal leaders and their aides. One term kept repeating, seeming to grow in volume with each time it leapt from one set of lips to the next: to-ay-baw’. Zeh-Ahbe’ cringed at the sound of it.

  The conversations rose in volume until they verged on frenzy when Sehkel-saykel stood. All of the dialogues ceased as attention firmly fixed upon the elderly leader. Once he had their attention, he sat back down and spoke, telling an old tale: the history of the werewolves.

  “There were not always only ten tribes of our kin on the eastern continent. I hear so many of you referencing the forgotten eleventh tribe in your conversations, just now. You are thinking to convict the Say-awr’ as to-ay-baw’. This is a grave thing which can never be undone. To become to-ay-baw’ is to become an eternal abomination. It makes desolate a place in the kil-yaw’. To-ay-baw’ is final and complete.”

  “Is this not the type of thing required of us, to render the Say-awr’ as to-ay-baw’?” Mil-khaw-mah’ asked accusingly. “Zeh-Ahbe’ has claimed that they will live eternally as pinklings through their spiritual powers. How is this different than the decisions of the Shaw-than’?”

  “It may not be that different at all,” Sehkel-saykel sighed, “and that is the thing that I find the most disturbing. I will now tell you the history of the lost eleventh tribe, when the kil-yaw’ lost its Shaw-than’.” The play on words went unnoticed.

  “Many generations ago, so long that we have forgotten them almost fully, the Shaw-than’ tribe fell to their own selfishness and corruption. Then, the Shaw-than’ were the lowest of the kil-yaw’, ironically, the position now held by the Say-awr’. The Shaw-than’ were despised and often taunted by all tribes. The Kaw-bade’, then the ruling tribe in the kil-yaw’, thought it nothing to send its young warriors against their Shaw-than’ brethren as a rite of passage. The Shaw-than’ were abused and belittled, probably wrongly, and they eventually had their fill of ill treatment.

  “At one point, Ad, the tribal head of Shaw-than’ made a pact with Lilth, the devious clan matron of the vampire conclave. The mother of all vampires, our eternal enemies, seduced one of our own. Ad became an abomination, what we call to-ay-baw’, the eternally damned and unaccepted.

  “The Shaw-than’ have been endowed with many great powers, but are no longer a part of our body. We have rid ourselves of them in every way. Most of our kind does not even know the Shaw-than’ ever existed; they only know that there are such abominations in existence: creatures of both vampiric and lupine origins.

  “The Shaw-than’ became the slaves to their new masters, rendering them powerful and yet powerless in the same way. Their strengths were multiplied and their abilities enhanced, but they can no longer breed, they traded away their very mortality and life to fulfill their lust for power and vengeance.” Sehkel-saykel turned and rapped Mil-khaw-mah’ on the thigh to get his attention. “That is the same reason I try and keep you in line, young one. You cannot let your pass
ions consume you, lest you also court to-ay-baw’, a fate that none of us deserve.

  “Now enslaved, there is no longer life within the Shaw-than’—they partake in the same unlife of their undead masters. They have power to destroy and wage war at their masters’ whims; they are immortal, except for those same methods used to kill a vampire. They’ve become unnatural in every sense, a collection of all that we are and all that we hate.

  “Once Ad came into his power and passed it to his tribemates, they hatched their plan and fell upon all those who had previously wronged them. The dens of our ancestors ran red with blood as the proud and haughty fell before the unexpected attacks of the once weak and lowly.

  “By the time the kil-yaw’ recognized that the systematic destruction came from within, many tribal leaders had been killed. The Kaw-bade’ had been almost completely destroyed, except for a few warriors and their tribal leader, Ar-yay’. The kil-yaw’ met to ascertain what they should do when the Shaw-than’ surrounded the gathering, completely disregarding the protocol of the kil-yaw’.

  “Ar-yay’, who had overseen harsh persecution of Ad’s family, struck a deal with the Shaw-than’. He challenged Ad in ritual combat. Ar-yay’ had earlier discovered that Ad had a mistress amongst the Tsip-po’-ren clan. He had a whole separate family in an upper caste, despite the specific rules against such a thing.

  “The ritual combat was standard, if Ar-yay’ defeated Ad, then the Shaw-than’ must agree to depart and forgo the kil-yaw’ forever. If they refused to depart, then Ad’s entire spurious line of offspring within the Tsip-po’-ren would be tortured and destroyed.

  “It was a desperate act; Ar-yay’ had a chance through one on one combat, but the kil-yaw’ would not have survived the onslaught if the entire Shaw-than’ chosen to fall upon them and slaughter those who had opposed them. Ad accepted the challenge in order to preserve his illegitimate, innocent, litter.

  “The clash that followed was epic. The fight went on well into the night until a nearly defeated Ar-yay’ grappled his opponent and threw himself upon the pyre that lit the kil-yaw’. Ar-yay’ held on until both warriors were consumed in the flames. Ad had been defeated and so the Shaw-than’ departed and went west. It was reported that they left this continent entirely, despite the occasional sightings. As far as we know, all of the remaining Shaw-than’ survive to this day, if you can call it that… all except for Ad. They are to-ay-baw’: those forever forsaken by the kil-yaw’ which spawned them.”

  Khad-dood’, leader of the Tsip-po’-ren inquired, “What of the bastard children of that foul lineage?” Most tribal leaders descended from the strongest genetic lines; the question was obviously borne out of personal interest.

  “They have long since perished,” Sehkel-saykel assured him. “As soon as the son of Ad came of age, he inquired of his parentage and, upon discovering his sire, took a longsword and slew his entire family before presenting himself before his tribal leader and falling upon his sword to satisfy the honor of the kil-yaw’. His death is recorded in the Books of Honor.”

  Sehkel-saykel addressed the group formally. “What we have before us now is a yes or no question. Do you believe that the Say-awr’ should be judged to-ay-baw’? Stand now and vote.”

  Mil-khaw-mah’ stood before his peers. “I know what I see. The Say-awr’ have claimed to have found a better life, one with more power, but they seem like deluded fools who embrace weakness in the face of true power. Perhaps a conspiracy is brewing. They may be allying themselves with our enemies, perhaps even courting the powers of the children of Lilth.”

  Mil-khaw-mah’s brash statement had been expected. Nonetheless, it influenced many of the other leaders.

  Zeh-Ahbe’ fell to his knees as the rest of those privileged to vote stood in unison. One by one the tribal leaders turned their backs on the crest-fallen Christian, a sign that each had voted against his clan.

  Sim-khaw’ hesitated, knowing that by turning his back he would willfully plunge his tribe down to the lowest rank of the kil-yaw’. He saw seven other turned backs and his hesitation hardened to resolve; he turned in accord with his fellows.

  A look of sadness fell over Sehkel-saykel. Finally he said, “So be it,” and he too turned his back on Zeh-Ahbe’. With his back still turned, he declared, “Tribe Say-awr’ is hereby rendered to-ay-baw’. It is a decision that I fear has been made too lightly, yet it remains. Let the history books so record the end of tribe Say-awr’; they have left their devotion to the kil-yaw’ with their devotion to this Christ superseding their first commitment. So let the records show.”

  Rah’-be bent forward to comfort his tearful friend. He pulled Zeh-Ahbe’ close and said, “If that is what the history books reflect, then we shall be honored for it by our Lord.” He pulled at Zeh-Ahbe’. “Come now, we must leave for our own safety.”

  “I failed. I failed them all, Rah’-be. All of our brethren are doomed in the coming fires.”

  “It is an ironic choice and one they freely make,” comforted Sil-tarn. “They think that they are damning us, but in reality it is they who choose to ignore the only truth. In doing so they’ve chosen eternal hellfire of their own volition.”

  Zeh-Ahbe’ nodded, knowing it was true. “I, too, feel that they have made this decision too lightly.”

  “Leave now, pinkling,” threatened Mil-khaw-mah’. “The kil-yaw’ is about to meet and if you are still here at that time, then you will be destroyed.”

  “You must depart,” confirmed Sehkel-saykel. “Your place is no longer among us. Should you ever again come into the kil-yaw’ you will be killed. Should any of the remaining tribes breed with those carrying the shameful scald marks of the Say-awr’, then they will be killed and their family noted in the records of dishonor.

  “Zeh-Ahbe’, surrender your scald and leave, never to return.”

  The Say-awr’ leader removed a large circular amulet from around his neck. It was intricately engraved with sigils and symbols. The scald, a type of magical branding iron used to bestow the shapeshifting powers upon a new tribal initiate, had been in his family for generations. Zeh-Ahbe’ held it in his hands for one last moment; the scald’s identical engravings mirrored the appearance of the burned imprint on the left palm in which he held it. So long ago it had branded the tribal insignia into his hand. Now, Zeh-Ahbe’ had only disgust for the thing that had been a part of his life for so long. He cast it to the dirt next to the fire ring as he, Rah’-be, and Sil-tarn departed the assembly for their brighter destiny.

  ***

  Kevin awoke to find the sun, fully risen and shining warmth upon the Christian encampment. He saw that many people were already busy. The message of hope and life—of Jesus Christ—was contagious. Since that evangelistic meeting in the town’s center and the formation of this camp, their numbers had only swollen.

  The encampment jutted out from the very southern edge of town. This location, formerly an uncultivated section of land, had been transformed into a haven where people flocked to hear more about the hope offered by this new message. Kevin warmed with inspiration; these people actively lived out the great commission. They had given up everything in order to learn, and in turn, lend their voices for the short remainder of existence promised to them.

  Kevin stood to his feet and stretched—his vigor and heart renewed by the sight which greeted him. The sun rose and bathed the camp in rays of warmth; shadows fled as the light cast its hope of a bright future upon them. Kevin smiled; knowing that the Lord had heard his prayers comforted him. He hugged his arms to himself for warmth and toured the encampment, looking for his angelic supporters.

  As Kevin walked through the campground, converts greeted him warmly and reverently. He knew that his path was right; he’d done exactly what God requested of him. With everyone whom he spoke, he heard reports of family members and friends who had either joined them or were open to hearing about the Messiah.

  The river banks filled with hope and joy. A positive a
ttitude permeated the atmosphere like sweet smelling incense.

  Kevin eventually found Rashnir. Contrarily, he looked as if he had not slept well. Rashnir blamed his dishevelment on bad dreams

  The day went as others previous. Assemblies gathered for teaching and fellowship at different parts of the day and smaller cells formed and met later in the afternoon. Some of the small groups would sequester Kevin and whisk him off to the homes of people who the group knew were receptive. Sometimes they went well, sometimes not.

  Whenever a small group left with Kevin, an angel accompanied him, usually Jorge. Kyrius preferred to stay behind to teach in Kevin’s absence. He had a kind and gentle way with answering questions and interjecting humor.

  In mid-afternoon, Kevin left with a group of fifteen others to visit the home of a family member. Rashnir decided to tag along.

  As they traveled through a city street they met both familiar stares and odd looks of the passersby. Something, however, tugged at Rashnir’s ear and he left the group to walk alone. Rashnir found a town crier, an adolescent boy hired to broadcast news and announcements.

  “What is the news you have?” Rashnir questioned.

  “A memorial service, sir. Tomorrow night. All of the faithful are required to attend, at risk of angering the demon council.”

  “A memorial for whom?”

  “For Harmarty, sir. It will be held in the Grinden central park.” The boy pointed the way.

  “Yes, yes. I know it.”

  “Even King Rutheir will come to show respect for the dead.”

  Rashnir might have questioned the lad further, but he noticed a familiar threesome wandering dejectedly though the streets. He left the herald and joined up with his fellow Christians, Zeh-Ahbe’, Rah’-be, and Sil-tarn.