The Kakos Realm Collection

by Christopher D Schmitz

  The mage nodded glumly. He had hoped to deal with the case personally; Absinthium took great joy in tormenting heretics.

  “The battle for paradise is consuming more and more of my attention as it reaches a climax. I find myself increasingly placing this duty to destroy all krist-chins upon you.

  “The coup within the Gathering was expected, if not ill-timed. However, it was the resurgence of this rogue cult that has proven to be the major encumbrance to our grand plans. For all its danger, the coup could have been a good thing; it ousted my enemies and will allow for new allegiances to be forged: bonds that will not grow cold yet for some time.”

  “The battle goes well then, or poorly? What do you require, master?”

  “I want you to destroy this threat, this cancer that disturbs my campaign for total control! I want these krist-chins destroyed. I give the task wholly over to you to manage this malignancy.”

  The demon surged with anger. An appearance of another would-be missionary from the long-dormant sect must have disturbed him greatly—more than he let on. If Karoz's disciples began mustering enough courage to leave their home and preach, then it would require more effort to contain them. That would mean more energy wasted by beh'-tsah to merely maintain his current position.

  “Whatever your instructions are, I will follow.” Absinthium bowed low.

  The overlord smiled broadly.

  “The quick strike against tah-av-aw’s fortress went as planned,” beh’-tsah shifted gears. “I had directed makh-al-o’-keth to annihilate all of his resources immediately following the uprising; his decision to cast his lot with the dissenters was impulsive and typical. His forces remained unaware of the coup and makh-al-o’-keth’s army caught them unprepared.

  “The instigator, peh’-shah, is holed up in kah’-as’s lair, I assume. Most of peh’-shah’s army has been scattered. kah’-as has the most strength and best defenses; raw-tsakh’ is besieging those defenses even now, but it will likely prove an extended campaign.

  “There are other forces, too, jealous demons who the dissidents persuaded to aide them in besieging my home. Those have been recalled and now reinforce the army gathered at gay-ooth’s castle. The combined armies of zaw-lal’ and gaw-law’ have engaged them.”

  Absinthium nodded. The Order maintained a carefully balanced relationship with the demon lords of Paradise. “Those Luciferian mage’s with devotions to certain demonic masters have been informed of the changes within the Gathering. They have been commanded to either choose a new allegiance when the Gathering reforms or join their lords at their castles in Paradise to suffer the consequences of war.”

  “Yes,” the demon purred, “a small number of those with true loyalty ascended the tower, opting to join their masters.” beh’-tsah fingered the chitinous breast piece that he wore, picking at little bits of human flesh that clung to the bones. “Those who chose poorly were immediately seized by my forces at the tower’s portal.

  “Because this has flared into all-out war, everyone has courted the remaining demon lords—those not on the council. Those who remain on my side of the battle, of course, have no proven loyalty; their best chance for garnering the most power or even forming their own eventual coup exists with my continued reign.”

  The mage nodded knowingly, “The war in Paradise cannot be ignored because it could dethrone you, but if I fail to control this krist-chin threat, then all will be for naught.”

  “And we cannot ignore the ever-looming threat that Lilth and her brood pose. With the Gathering breaking, they might take advantage of its momentary weakness and spread their own brand of taint. Even now her agents have been seen at work.”

  “I will see to it that the Order hires more hunters and keeps those threats manageable.” The demon ripped another body apart at the table and began to devour it as his minion explained his plans. “My new acolytes are nearly ready. Rebuilding my corps of elite warrior mages will let me replicate my efforts on a larger scale. It will take some time to season them properly, but they will be of great use.”

  “Good,” beh’-tsah said. “You will need them in the days to come. Once they are functioning cohesively I want you taking charge of the entire anti-krist-chin operation on the first firmament. This war consumes too much of my attention and I cannot afford to divide my efforts. You will head up my campaign against the threat; exaporeh’-omahee will keep watch on the activities of the undead and report back to you.

  “For the most part, because the recent skirmish left Grinden’s population in such shambles, the krist-chins have been significantly villainized. Continue those measures and slander them as you prod along the Order’s revival.

  The demon seized an immense, writhing viper from his dining table, “I have such plans—machinations that even you do not know about.”

  Absinthium did not quite fully understand his master’s meaning.

  The demon bit the serpent’s head off and it ceased struggling. Blood splattered to the floor as its body uncurled from beh’-tsah’s forearm and fell limp.

  Chapter Four

  Nineteen men now remained. They stood stark and bare, standing at attention as Absinthium inspected them. He examined their naked bodies closely for signs of wounds and scars. Surviving this long without incurring some sort of wound proved impossible; they had run rigorous gauntlets and engaged in deadly exercises. He looked them over, but less as a measure how many wounds each had taken and instead searched for signs of proficiency at mending their wounds via dark rituals and potions. Each potential acolyte was responsible for healing his own defects.

  The scarred and rough crew of disciplined hopefuls appeared in better condition than Absinthium had hoped for. Since the last inspection, only three of them had died. Pink, fresh scars showed the mage that their survival had not been for a lack of trying on Wynn’s part. Absinthium smiled with satisfaction; these men were tough and had proven it by their very survival.

  His Acolyte roster had room for only eleven of the nineteen who had survived tonight’s test. Wynn held the top Acolyte spot and Absinthium himself was always the thirteenth member. He barked an order and the team equipped themselves for a new training exercise.

  Silently, they filed out to the training grounds. What used to be a verdant field behind the Monastery of Light had become a blasted patch of dirt pocked with craters and broken turf. They assumed an obedient posture, waiting for instructions for whatever this next session required.

  Absinthium wandered into their collective number as he muttered a simple spell. As the orb atop his toqeph radiated a sphere of arcane power, a supernatural darkness gathered overhead. Knitting together, the boiling, inky mass grew into a dome of shadows that enveloped the men.

  The privacy screen helped Absinthium obscure his actions from the rest of the Luciferian Order. None of the three other Arch Mages on the Council of Four realized that he had built his own private assassin group.

  Absinthium regarded his peers as imbeciles and trusted that his magic was far superior. For years he had operated within the Order with complete impunity. His magic abilities far exceeded those of his peers Eroschit and Bellitahs, and to be compared with Mesler would be a joke, the old Battle Mage could hardly be considered a Mage ranking wizard in any discipline other than combat.

  As the dome of darkness completed, the mystic envelope of shadow sealed against the ground and simulated a nighttime environment. Absinthium wanted to cut the numbers of acolyte potentials to a maximum of seventeen. Whether from wounds or from exhaustion, at least two of these men would die today.

  They formed two groups to face oncoming hordes of attackers. Wynn knew best what it meant to be an acolyte and he led the nine men that he considered best suited for his team. Casualties would probably come from the secondary group.

  Absinthium stepped beyond the dome of darkness and to the slave pens where armed warriors waited with weapons reclaimed from past hordes. He perched himself on a rock with a good vant
age point and nodded to one of his master's demon scullions who unlocked the gate and sent in the waves of opposition.

  The culling would now begin.

  ***

  Kevin left Nipanka’s company, bidding him good journey, urging him to return to the original plan: to voyage to the mining communities of Lol. The preacher couldn’t shake the sense that some terrible ill would befall them if they did not break company as soon as possible.

  He bit his lip. If the Spirit had shown him anything over the years, it had been that this was one of the ways He communicated.

  Turning to the matters at hand Kevin seated himself on a short wooden stool in the town square where his Christian brethren surrounded him. Havara stood next to him and an angel flanked each person. The Christians had moved directly into the main body of the village where the buildings could offer more protection.

  Kevin glanced across the area, eyes lingering on the buildings damaged by the mixed-race invasion. A distinct resentment for the nonhuman species stirred in the local people.

  Sadness hovered over the preacher’s heart. He planned to preach a message this evening to the remaining people of Sprazik and the people had been inspired by Havara’s claim that they would hear the message King Lo-sonom died believing. Kevin’s mind kept turning to the grief in his heart; during relief efforts to help repair the community he had found the dead body of the young, mute cyclops who so intrigued him.

  Havara turned aside to speak with to his local subjects. He detailed assignments for keeping watch and answered a myriad of questions from the people. Fear gripped them tightly. No one knew if another attack would come again—nor how soon.

  The messenger they’d sent back to Xorst to announce that Havara had survived the assassination attempt had not returned. Hopefully, Havara's human allies were able to stave off any further attacks; a second, blatant coup would likely provide a cause for the humans to band together over. Even if Havara died it might give them something to rally around. If elves and dwarves killed the prince and took the throne they might not succeed in keeping it.

  None of the humans noticed as a tall, cowled figure meandered into their midst. The shrouded visitor had come such a long distance. He slipped easily through the crowd with a nimbleness that defied his size.

  The two angels noticed him, however. They jumped forward, wings flared wide and swords brandished to protect the two important figureheads behind them. The sudden movement made those nearby recoil with surprise. Only the cloaked traveler failed to flinch.

  “What are you doing here,” demanded Jorge, weapon at the ready.

  “Please, please,” the figure begged as he pulled back his hood. The handsome traveler dropped to one knee. “I come with peace.” He brushed long strands of his umber hair away from his fair-skinned face. Apart from his somber, grayed eyes, he looked just like one of the angels.

  Kyrius took a defensive position in front of Kevin and Havara as Jorge approached the visitor.

  Jorge put the blade of his holy sword right next to the newcomer’s head. The stranger did not withdraw even as the righteous, blue flame-light bathed his face. The light, which normally revealed the blighted true forms of demonic beings, turned up surprisingly little. His fair skin fell slightly ashen under the holy light and a brown patch of decay festered on his chin and brow.

  “What is your name, demon?” Jorge commanded.

  “My name is ekerithia.” He spread his palms outward in desperation. “But I do not consider myself one of them. I must know, is there any hope for me? Please, I want to repent.”

  ***

  Absinthium ran out of orcs. Every single one of them had fallen to the serrated edges of his trainees’ kamas. They regrouped to their two clusters, taking advantage of the momentary rest between waves.

  The archmage observed the scene before him. Corpses and body parts scattered the field; his acolytes had been drenched in sweat and blood. Flames flared in spots belching acrid smoke, wheezing and snapping as each spat tiny embers into the air like glittering confetti.

  At the edge of the dome, necromantically animated bodies of previous Acolytes stood like pillars at the edge of the darkness. They functioned as scribes, keeping statistics on each of the warriors. Only eleven of them could be chosen.

  Larger than the orcs that they had just faced, the next wave consisted mostly of ogres and even a few trolls. Absinthium gave the signal and the creatures rushed in under the cover of darkness, each brandishing various devices of war and howling guttural battle-cries.

  A concussive thunderclap tore up brown sod and cleaved flesh and joint as a wave of alchemical fury erupted. Wynn’s group cleared a whole flank and darted into the smoldering region to clean up any survivors while expanding their protection buffer.

  The other team expended the last of their projectile weapons and rushed into the fray pairing into five groups of two. Only teamwork and martial skill would keep them from casualties.

  Wynn’s troops fanned out in an elliptical formation. His teammates also worked in two-man groups, the foremost warrior kept up defenses for his rear partner who concentrated on spell casting. Any enemies nearby fell by the blade and the next tier of adversaries fell to a variety of spells.

  Absinthium watched the events unfold from afar and through the eyes of his undead helpers. Wynn’s team advanced and broadened their effective range as the trainees’ prowess annihilated their foes; fireballs and lightning bolts blasted forth to take down the deadly creatures.

  With Wynn’s group performing so well, the enemies shifted its focus to the other team. The secondary team became hard pressed by the added attention. Their defense started crumbling under the onslaught as their enemies piled up against them.

  In desperation, one of the initiates stepped back and drew upon dark power. He cast a spell that erupted in a burst of wind, flinging bodies in every direction like a hot typhoon. It was a clever move but scattered both friend and foe alike across the field. The situation should never have progressed as far as it did.

  Amidst the tumult, hopeful acolytes picked themselves up from the dirt and rushed to regroup against the charging ekthro. Their positioning had improved despite the battering blast of the gale.

  The slowest acolyte to reach the rally point was swept off his feet beneath the blows of a massive troll. In a flash, the troll pinned him down with a massive, calloused foot and smashed him like an egg with its jagged, stone club.

  Watching his partner perish, the next closest acolyte tried to flee. The troll cackled gleefully and gave chase, encouraged by the possibility of easy prey. The acolyte grinned. He’d goaded the beast and leapt towards a nearby wooden structure and used his legs to spring back, ricocheting back at the surprised troll. Turning, he brought his claw-like kamas to bear and lodged them deep within the monster’s chest.

  The troll shrieked as it toppled and the brave fighter raked the edged hooks through unresistant flesh, delivering mortal wounds.

  He reached into his gear pouch but struggled with a snagged belt. He needed to use a vial of caustic chemicals on the body. Without some kind of acid or fire, the troll would eventually regenerate and he would have to battle a smarter, tougher version of the creature. He momentarily diverted his attention and rummaged through his belt pouches.

  Two nearby ogres hung back, deviously plotting their attacks. They took advantage of the acolyte’s momentary distraction and cast tangles of razor-wire at him.

  The acolyte saw their movement from the corner of his eye. He dodged the first one but jumped directly into the path of the second nest. The metal, ball-like devices at the ends of the tangled wire netting reeled in rapidly and the razor meshwork contracted, dismembering the human where he lay helplessly tangled.

  With the rest of the Acolytes surviving the next few minutes, Absinthium recalled the remaining ekthro. If he waited any longer, more acolyte potentials than necessary might fall, several already suffered substantial wounds that ne
eded immediate attention.

  Absinthium shook out his enchanted haversack and muttered a spell. The sigil branded sack, a necromantic item of his own design, shimmied like a flag in a stiff wind. A supernatural vortex pulled at the molecules of the animated undead. The former acolytes evaporated, breaking into dust that the bag sucked up and held. The sigil on the filled bag gleamed like filigree.

  The archmage returned to the acolytes’ barracks to pour over the training records and notes that he’d taken. Tonight he would decide who made the final cut and who would be put in reserve.

  Absinthium glanced at the six coffin-like boxes. Lights of a design and pattern that mystified even him blinked in reply. He knew very little about how they worked or what forces powered them. He didn’t need to understand how it worked, though; he had witnessed the devices’ capabilities and infinite power supply when collecting these boxes from the sparsely populated country of Domn. Inside the chambers had been six inhabitants of the old-world country where they’d been placed into stasis prior to the country’s descent into a war-torn wasteland. The arch-mage would use them now to hold the remaining six Acolyte potentials as reserve units.

  The spell caster grinned, reliving an old victory in his mind. He’d long ago taken these from his generation’s Eldar Darkshield before the mysterious demon from the box raised up another priest to crown as his avatar.

  He tallied the scores and made some critical judgments. He circled eleven names with a grin. Now came the critical planning stage of his new team’s first real mission.

  Absinthium reached for a dedicated qâsam stone. After a few moments spent calling, grr’Shaalg’s image came into view through the qâsam’s crystalline facets.

  “My Acolyte roster has been refilled, grr’Shaalg. Our forces will be on the move again very soon and I have need of you for my plans. Be prepared for my call to action.”

  ***

  The Christians in Ninda made a second trip into the village to give their presentation. Their encounter with Sim-khaw’ had delayed them a couple of days. In retrospect, the actors for the play were relieved to get a few extra days of practice, though Rashnir was sure that they would have done well without any extra rehearsals.