The Kakos Realm Collection

by Christopher D Schmitz

  The mage stared down at her from of the stage. “This is how the powers of Lucifer will destroy its opposition!” Absinthium uttered a new string of words and slowly brought his hands together as if clapping very slowly. When his hands contacted each other, a loud peal of thunder issued and flames burst up from the ground, consuming her as she wept and prayed silently. She did not try to flee; she did not speak or cry out or curse her executioners. The crowd backed away because of the intense heat rolling off of the pyre. They stared at the scene, wide eyes fixed to it, like they were drugged with opiates, and then cheering erupted.

  Enveloped by the flames, the woman sank to her knees and succumbed to the fiery fate. The amassed crowd watched with rapt interest, falling so silent that those at the forefront could hear the crackle and hiss of the fire as it devoured human flesh and sinew. The synovial fluid in her joints boiled and burst; seconds later, her joints sundered and her body collapsed in a pile of glowing embers and blackened bone.

  No one dared utter a sound and the crowd held its collective breath. All eyes remained fixed on the mage.

  Finally, Absinthium spoke, “You see,” his grandfatherly voice returned once again, “power and the truth are found in what we believe. We are all children of Lucifer. Here lies the victory and lies the power. The power to make a better life and the power to destroy our enemies is our duty and our right.”

  With heavy hearts, Rashnir and his crew watched Absinthium tell the crowd about his personal prophecy and the acceptance of the ekthro into their faith. Nods of affirmation rolled through the crowd when he instructed them about old racial prejudices between man and ekthro becoming a thing of the past.

  The mage wrapped up his message. “I do think that the church is partly to blame for failing our angelic hero. One of the things that we, as the church, have never been good about is allowing you as the laypeople to study our own lore and books of faith. That the majority of people are illiterate and might misinterpret our histories and sacred works is of little consequence. I believe that it is your right to access these materials and I have commissioned scribes and devotees to diligently copy selected works for you to purchase and take with you. They will be available to any man or ekthro who has been faithful at his temple, or pledges to become faithful, so that they may receive the proper guidance and tutelage to read these works and obtain true power.

  “I do have available right now many copies of my personal prophecy known as the Prophetic Scroll of Absinthium. You may obtain a copy from any monk present. For now, please give heed to a final notice from your king.”

  Rutheir once again ascended the podium. He looked very serious and turned to show all observers the somberness of his mood. “You have all seen and heard of the dangers that this city faces, but also you have heard of our glorious potential. You know that I have a soft spot for this place I once called home. You are the heart and soul of what my vision for Jand is and I do not wish to leave you at the mercy of these dangerous cultists.

  “I am enacting a two part plan for your protection. It is the responsibility of the crown to take action in light of this problem. The first phase is something that is my responsibility; the second is something that we will do together: you with the rest of Jand.

  “I will appoint an official steward of this city so that you may have direct responses and immediate intervention when situations arise. I will not appoint someone from the outside; because this is a position of significant importance and will be someone that you shall deal with frequently, it will be important that you are familiar with this person. I desire that you, as a city, hold a local ballot and elect from your own population someone you think will act in the best interests of the city.

  “This will be a paid position and I might at some time award direct nobility to this person, so choose wisely. He or she will be my personal liaison between Grinden and the crown; the steward will have my full authority on matters until I have had the chance to ratify decisions and evaluate circumstances.

  “I will also, when I go, leave behind a small number of military guards to form a military garrison. More will come, but I will not be sending soldiers, rather teachers and recruiters to raise up an army.

  “For far too long there has been a lack of military presence in the eastern half of the country. We have devoted all of our military strength to maintaining our western boundaries against Ziphan slaving invasions. We relied too much on the mercenaries’ guilds for protection and peacekeeping. We’ve seen how Rogis Rangers did with that when it came time to prosecute one of their own.”

  The crowd booed and hissed, accepting the new narrative that King Rutheir spun for them.

  “It is my desire, in the best interest of the country, to rebuild a strong army. Being a soldier is the noblest thing that a citizen could do and I wonder if there are any out there who would be willing to join? If it is your desire to be a protector of our ways, a defender of the weak, the slayer of enemies, and an educated and successful resident of these lands, then speak with one of the soldiers here today. They will share more with you. This is the burden we will share together.

  “I now bid you a farewell. I return in five days to instate the Steward of Grinden, whomever you have chosen. Until then, live your life with honor and dignity, remember your roots and your devotions and do not forget the dead and sacrifices made to further the plans of the Angel of Light.”

  Rutheir made his way from the platform as the crowd chanted his name and shouted praises to him. Once the king had departed, along with Absinthium and Frinnig, the crowd slowly dispersed.

  ***

  Kevin shifted his weight against the current as the water flowed around his waist. The river edged in the Christian encampment’s northern border. He smiled and beckoned to his new friends. Kevin knew that deep inside the city on their north a different sort of ceremony took place. Kyrius and some of his other trusted friends had gone in secrecy to get a gauge of the situation. Jorge remained behind with Kevin.

  Many people who had recently become Christians flooded the southern banks of the stream, preparing to be baptized or to witness the baptism of others. It was a time to rejoice and cheer for others.

  Over the last few days, many of their studies and lessons had been about what it meant to be a Christian and what the Lord desired of them. Naturally the topics of water baptism and communion entered discussion. The people understood that baptism was a symbolic dying to the world and resurrection with Christ—a new life. It testified to the rest of the realm that they decided to follow Christ and could never go back.

  Each person that entered the water proclaimed their commitment before Kevin dunked them under the surface and pulled them back up. Each emerging person expressed unyielding excitement about his or her new life.

  Curious onlookers began wandering by, coming from the city. Many stopped to watch the ceremony. Many of them scowled or shouted obscenities. They mocked them in whatever ways they could, though none of them tried to interfere with the baptisms. The Christians paid no mind to the opposing crowds which grew and to the passersby who became more frequent.

  Kevin figured the crowds were an indication that the Luciferian service had come to a close. He was only half done with those people who were prepared to go under the water. He hoped that his friends in the city would make it back in time to be baptized themselves. If they didn’t, it would mean that they’d encountered trouble.

  ***

  As shadows reclaimed the dark spaces in the park, the small group of Christians looked across the grassy turf and at the ashen remains of their sister in Christ. Rashnir and Jibbin, Kyrius, Zeh-Ahbe’, and Shinna walked across the road and into the park with a great sense of trepidation.

  They hoped to quickly gather the woman’s remains and return to the Christian encampment with them. As they approached, they noticed two cloaked men standing contemplatively over the smoldering heap.

  Both parties recognized each other at the same tim
e and jumped to attention.

  “Combat monks,” Rashnir stated, knowing that they would immediately recognize him and Kyrius.

  Rashnir was just about to pass Jibbin off to Shinna, much against Jibbin’s wishes, when the two monks inexplicably ran away. They sprinted as fast as they could in the opposite direction.

  Zeh-Ahbe’ started to chase after them, “C’mon! We must not let them summon more guards.”

  Kyrius quelled him, recognizing the same thing that Rashnir had. “No, leave them be. Didn’t you see them? They were not lying in wait for us; they mourned for her. It looked like the same two guards who escorted her out to the execution. If it were possible,” the angel said, “I would cry for her, too. Instead I rejoice at the courage she showed.”

  Rashnir nodded. “When they ran, I saw the hoods fall from their faces. One I did not recognize, the other was the same young monk who has shown great curiosity in our faith. He may find Christ soon, if he continues seeking… and if Jandul doesn’t find out.”

  They watched as the two young monks peeked out from the shadows, checking to see if they had been followed by Christians or noticed by members of their own creed. They spotted the Christians in the park and fled deeper into the city.

  Kyrius removed his satchel and emptied its contents. The angel gathered the woman’s remains into the sack and tied it with a cord before binding it to his belt.

  The Christians sorrowfully headed back to the encampment, sad and yet proud of the martyr’s witness. As a new believer, she showed as much courage in the face of the enemy as any of them could ever hope to.

  Chapter Twelve

  Attitudes shifted over the next few days in Kevin’s camp. With the advent of the believers having direct, divine access to the Logos, a confidence and spark of wisdom seemed to grow in each person.

  Kevin found that his leadership burdens lifted as the people matured, hungry to know more about their people’s great mission and refined by the crucible of trials their Luciferian citizens subjected them to. People rose among their camp to teach, share, and comfort each other; they discovered their own gifts. New families came to the camp each and every day as the Grinden Christians called on their own friends and family members with a message of hope.

  Conversely, staunch Luciferian families shunned members who turned to Christ and many businesses posted “No krist-chin” signs, barring known believers from their premises. Anticipating the eventual emigration Kevin had spoken of in relation to the western portal, Christians began selling their properties, even if they only got obscenely low prices because of local Luciferian influence.

  As Grinden’s citizens took sides, many made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with Christians, while others demonstrated their feelings through acts of violence. Only few remained neutral or apathetic at best.

  As the persecution intensified, most Christians opted for some sort of temporary or mobile dwelling at Kevin’s camp; wagons and tents sprang up and sprawled across the encampment. The folks eagerly anticipated an exodus in the weeks to come, both because of their optimism for the journey and because their local options systematically declined as Jandul and Frinnig plied their social influence.

  Through Kevin’s preaching, there were few who didn’t know that the group’s goals were to find the western gateway, the passage between the realms, and escape the great conflagration that they believed would come. It seemed that the stronger the Christians pushed towards their goals, the more Luciferian influence amplified against them.

  Their emigration was an obvious eventuality, but no person knew the exact details of how or when it would happen. Even Kevin had not quite nailed that down, though he knew it was soon. The leaders merely needed to plan for the logistics of such an exodus. It became ever more difficult as businesses refused to sell them the necessary provisions and supplies.

  Christians who still ventured into the city brought back news and current events to share. Other than the dominating topic of the battle lines drawn between the faiths, the only other news item was the open election for the Grinden Steward appointment.

  The trade town that only recently enjoyed sovereign neutrality now buzzed with politics and election campaigns. In the couple weeks since Kevin’s arrival everything had changed.

  ***

  Even though King Rutheir and Absinthium had departed, the Luciferian Temple remained packed at every service. The visit from the king and the prophet-mage boosted fervor for the long week of services dedicated to recommital and ceremony. Smaller services ran all day long in order to accommodate the travelers making pilgrimages in from the outlying countryside. Most services had some kind of curious ekthroic visitor, mostly goblins, but a few elves and an occasional orc wandered in as well. The neanderthalic orcs had a hard time understanding, but the monks did their best to explain the concept of absolute, blind tolerance and racial acceptance they tried to propagate.

  With the huge influx of people in the city, the saloons and brothels couldn’t keep up with demand; any place that catered to entertainment for travelers boomed in those times that Luciferian rites and rituals were not in session. No Luciferian rules barred the types of behaviors that the Christians found distasteful. In fact, the local temple smiled on the economic boost and the city was pleased to see growth.

  Many trade lines and shipping routes that normally passed directly through the city began stopping to spend their money in the city’s businesses, seeing what the city had to offer by way of slaking thirsts and satisfying lusts. Grinden transformed into a hive of activity; every person within its limits rode an energized wave of enthusiasm and it all revolved around the Luciferian Temple.

  Amid the hustle and bustle, the political campaign reached out and grabbed the attention of the locals. Candidates serious about garnering votes for the public position resorted to all manner of tactics and skullduggery before King Rutheir returned to appoint the new steward.

  Favorites included a wealthy businessman named Rinalto and a relatively unknown trade manager named Dyule. Dyule’s story rallied the Luciferians around him; his story, that several of the cultists had recently ransacked his house and terrorized the poor crippled woman who lived with him, had been vaguely alluded to during Harmarty’s memorial.

  Because Rinalto was so well known as a shifty character, Dyule easily found his footing. He readily won the support of Rinalto’s many business enemies. By contrast, Dyule had a reputable lineage in his father: the celebrated regional hero, Rogis, even if the Rangers’ reputation had taken a hit recently.

  In much the same way that the preacher, Kevin, stood on corners and enticed people into conversations which captivated small groups, so did these two primary candidates find success in gaining votes from the people of the city.

  Dyule had a story to tell; he had a passion and a plan, not merely political rhetoric. He found a better reception with his audience than Rinalto did. Neither man had the overwhelming support and recommendation of the Luciferian Church, though. Neither of the favored candidates had been loyal attendees of the temple even if both agreed to fall in line with the Order’s directives. Both made empty pledges to begin attending at some point.

  Two days before the election, Dyule and Rinalto agreed to hold an open-air debate. Crowds gathered to listen to the men hurl insults at each other and reveal awful truths they’d each uncovered about the other opponent.

  In the late evening, Rinalto rapped on the door of Dyule’s house. After a few terse words Rinalto stepped inside and offered a bribe to Dyule, if he dropped out of the race.

  Dyule refused and informed the duplicitous businessman that his desperation indicated more hope for Dyule’s campaign than he’d previously assumed. Dyule scoffed, “By right of my famous lineage alone, I could take this contest from you! Let alone the fact that you have no idea how to work with the citizens of Grinden.”

  “Your lineage isn’t worth the dirt on my boots. There is a growing scandal that Rogis was a
whoremonger!” he sneered with a veiled threat to add his voice to that rumor mill.

  A growl greeted him from a shadowy doorway as a massive young man stepped through the threshold. His dark eyes reflected how deeply he had just been insulted.

  “You will regret calling my mother a whore,” Bomarr threatened.

  Rinalto whirled around in surprise, drawing a keen dagger as he pivoted in fear. Rinalto’s eyes rolled back in his skull and his body fell limp under a blow to the head. The businessman groaned and saw a black flash of light as his opponent clubbed him over the head with an end table.

  Dyule dragged his unconscious competitor to the post where his mount stood tethered. He unwound the leather reigns and very quietly strangled the life from Rinalto next to the horse. After pouring several drams of booze down Rinalto’s throat, he wrapped the cords around his neck and wrists; Dyule hoped to make it look like Rinalto had gotten entangled in a simple accident. It would hopefully look like a riding mishap due to drunkenness.

  Grinning mischievously, Dyule slapped the horse’s rear and watched it gallop wildly away, fleeing down the city streets and dragging Rinalto’s corpse alongside as the crashes and occasional hoof stomps abused the deceased body. The horse would probably be found by morning. Nothing could prevent Dyule from winning the election at this point.

  A group of soldiers returning from the night’s revelry found the horse in the morning when it meandered past the military garrison; Jand’s official military had taken over the local garrison since Rutheir’s visit. When the drunken soldiers found Rinalto’s battered body, they quickly jumped to the conclusion Dyule had hoped for; the case was closed as quickly as it had opened.

  News of his death traveled quickly. Most people knew of Rinalto’s demise before the afternoon. Rinalto’s most ardent and vocal supporters began feverishly praising and encouraging Dyule’s candidacy, instead.