by Vox Day
He swore beneath his breath. “And he's sure as the Seven Hells not going to be too happy with me!”
Loremaster Alexi nodded his distinguished head in agreement with the boy's morose conclusion.
“True, but you've naught to fear. You've rendered us a service, and it's the least we can do to protect you from his wrath.”
The bearded master turned and looked down his elegant nose at his superior.
“Gorean, you will provide the boy with a proper warding this time, I hope?”
The bald man rolled his eyes, but before he could articulate a retort, excited shouts heralded the breaching of Tetradates' spell chamber. The two Masters dropped their dispute and rushed towards the newly opened room, leaving Dag alone to contemplate the hideous end his master was surely devising for him already.
A soft voice coughed politely behind him. “You risked much to aid us in this matter.”
Dag spun around to see a slender, smooth-faced Asian of about twenty-five. His almond eyes were unreadable, but the treacherous young apprentice thought he noticed a glimmer of curiousity hidden there. Too upset to bother being polite, he replied haughtily.
“There's evil with a small e, and evil with a big E followed by a capital VIL.” Dag smiled coldly. “I'm the evil with a small e, the do what thou wilt Discordian ride, you get it? But big-time EVIL, you know, soul-bargaining with devils, mass murder, and blood sacrifice, is just not my thing!”
The young Asian didn't withdraw in affronted alarm as Dag half-expected him to, but nodded thoughtfully instead.
“Yes, I think I understand.” To Dag's great surprise his questioner unexpectedly grinned, then bowed deeply to him. “I am Yung Chu, and big-time evil is not my thing either!”
Dag shook his head and laughed, taking in the unadorned white robes that indicated a discipleship in the Asssembly of Logosian Order.
“No, somehow I didn't think it was.”
“How perceptive. One presumes you are also very talented, to take service with one such as this Tetradates.”
Dag smiled bitterly at the other's flattery, and flashed his long canines.
“What do you want, Yung Chu?”
The slender young man bowed his dark head slightly and smiled easily. He had a servile manner that made Dag's skin crawl.
“Just an answer to a simple question. Was your master in the habit of consulting the Book of Changes?”
“Yeah, he did it all the time. Why do you ask?”
“Because I believe I have found what may be a clue,” Yung Chu answered humbly as he produced a wrinkled piece of paper. “Perhaps this will help us learn what has happened.”
“Oh, we know what happened!” spat out an irritated voice behind them. “Though I doubt your clue will be of much use to us, Yung Chu.”
The two apprentices whirled around to see an extremely disgruntled Alexi walking towards them with a worried-looking Gorean at his heels.
“The question isn't where your master went, but when!” The arrogant Loremaster was almost snarling with anger. “That fat bastard went back in time!”
Two junior officers flank the imposing figure of their commander as he strides confidently out from the confines of his staff's headquarters. As the three men reach an open field just out of sight of his army's encampment, the general sees, just as it was reported to him, the curious sight of a strangely-clad fat man lying unconscious beneath the shade of a twisted scrub tree. Sharing an amused look with one of his lieutenants, the general, himself none too slender, strolls up to the sleeping man and kicks him once, hard.
The man stirs slightly, and mutters something unintelligible, and one of the officers, following his general's example, kicks the man in the side again. The sudden pain causes the man's eyes to fly open with shock, and the bemused commander sees that the man appears to be utterly bewildered.
But as he watches, curious, the man's gaze falls upon an object lying next to him. The confusion on his fleshy face disappears, and is replaced by a crafty look of triumph. The man rises slowly to stand directly before the general, points a spread-fingered hand at the junior officers, and speaks a single word. The general is astonished to see both his staunch lieutenants slump to the ground unconscious, too surprised even to think of drawing his weapon.
Before he can react, the stranger utters a long string of harsh-sounding words. The general is horrified to see the man's face begin to melt, its features shifting as it undergoes an unnatural transformation. Thirty seconds later, he recognizes a familiar face staring at him, and in that face, death.
His frozen muscles are galvanized by terror and desperation. He leaps at the mirror image of himself, bent on its destruction, but an invisible barrier appears in front of him without warning. Blood spatters and he falls screaming to his knees, his hands cradling a shattered nose.
“Take off your clothes now or I'll boil you in your own blood!” he hears the doppelganger command in his own tongue.
The general hurries to comply, trying to ignore the waves of pain that make his head throb, imagining he can already feel his intestines heating. Minutes later the sorceror stands before him, wearing his clothes with the martial bearing of a man long accustomed to command. The general stares dully at the sorceror, his mind numb with fear, and he cannot even flinch as the evil one points a finger at him. A beam of intense green light is the last thing he sees and he collapses to the ground dead, the steamed remnants of his brain smoking from his eyes, ears, and nostrils.
Pausing only to retrieve a book lying upon the barren ground, the disguised wizard walks towards his waiting army, followed by the two lieutenants, revived from their slumber, who stumble slowly after him in a dream-like state of trance. The corpse of the dead general lies lifeless beneath the naked rays of a merciless sun, steam still spiraling upwards from its ruined face.
The two young magic-users sat next to one another near the back of the formal council room. Due to the gravity of the situation, over forty of the Assembly's most powerful adepts had been assembled at short notice, and there were even a few ebon-colored robes sprinkled in amidst the predominantly red- and white-clad crowd. Not wishing to draw attention to himself, Dag had borrowed clothing from Yung Chu, and together they listened closely to the Order Master's concluding remarks.
“Given what we have learned from analyzing Tetradates' spellbooks, in speaking with his apprentice, and from making some preliminary inquiries on the astral planes, we've determined that he has gone back in time in order to perform a ritual sacrifice that he could not easily arrange at this moment.”
Gorean looked tired, Dag thought, no doubt the bald old man had performed many of the astral projections himself.
He wondered idly if the Assemby had considered contacting any of the leading denizens of the Sixth Hell. Maltyrakh and Svarozjic, the archdemon's ducal rivals, would certainly be forthcoming with any information that might hinder their hated adversary, but they were just as surely unaware of Ravana's unholy arrangement with Dag's former master.
The crowd buzzed and tittered in response to a statement from Master Gorean, and Dag returned his attention to the podium, wondering what he had just missed.
“What did he say?” he asked Yung Chu.
“Shhh!" was the young Asian's response.
“…that is to say, he could of course easily arrange to have the requisite number of people killed, but apparently not in a manner that would satisfy the ritual element involved. Murdering great quantities of human beings is, sadly, nothing remarkable in this day and age, but for whatever reason, bombs and other means of mass destruction have not been deemed acceptable to the Lords of the Hells. For ritual purposes, that is,” the Master added hastily.
A few white-robed adepts shouted questions at the podium, but Gorean shook his bald head and held out a hand imploringly to the crowd.
“If you seek more information on these matters, please don't ask me, I'm simply repeating what I've been told by my esteemed colleagues here.” He p
olitely indicated three elderly black-robed men sitting in the front row.
“Now we have concluded that the Darkmage has gone back to a historical period where millions of people have perished in such a way that will satisfy his end of his compact with the archdemon. Judging from our admittedly limited information on the current political situation in the Sixth Hell, this great sacrifice will likely endow Ravana with the power he requires to vanquish his opponents and consolidate his grip there, possibly with an eventual challenge to one of the ranking Archdevils in mind.
“The effects of such a challenge upon our world would likely be profound, if indirect. Though we of the Logos naturally oppose all Nether Powers on principle, we are at least familiar to a certain extent with the minds and methods of Abraxas, Asmodai, Belial, and the like. Duke Ravana is a hitherto unknown factor, and were he to come to a throne on the Seventh or Eighth Hell, we have reason to believe that he would pursue a far more aggressive policy than any of the current ruling Dukes. Therefore, we must work to ensure that this does not happen!”
The Master paused for a moment, glancing about the room with a steely-eyed gaze, then continued solemnly.
“We do not know what Tetradates himself has to gain from this, but we can assume that since he is evil, intelligent, and self-centered in the extreme, it must be something substantial. The possibility of this Darkmage returning to our time, with his power and prestige enhanced by an unholy ally from the Nether Realms, is a very real one. In fact, it is my contention that Tetradates has demonstrated himself to be an immediate cause for concern to this Assembly!”
In emphasis, he smashed his fist down upon the wood of the podium in front of him.
“Therefore, I am determined to hunt him down immediately.” Gorean's voice grew strong and cold, forcefully reminding the Assembly they were neither powerless nor weak. “I will send back three of our most skilled Adepts, to the times and places we have deemed to be of maximum interest to the Darkmage. Their mission is to prevent Tetradates from carrying out this blasphemy, by any means necessary!”
The Master raised his right hand in an aggressive summons.
“Shail Nagaruna, Derek Utberg, and Charles DeWitt, stand, if you will!”
His strong voice carried clearly through the crowded room. The seated magic-users whispered loudly amongst themselves as three men rose slowly to their feet, two clad in white, one in red.
“Will you accept this charge, by the Anchor and the Tree?” he demanded of them.
One after another, each of the three adepts indicated his acceptance and sat down.
“Thank you,” Master Gorean nodded gratefully to the three adepts. “Tonight, at midnight, the time-traveling spell will be cast by Khul-Hazal, who will be supervised by myself, the Lore Master, and three ranking Adepts,” he emphasized, quickly stifling the inevitable murmurs of dissent at the participation of a Discordian mage. “Our emissaries will attempt to stop Tetradates with a minimal amount of historical interference.
“Adept Utberg will be sent back to 1933, to investigate the Nazi era in Western Europe. Since this is the most obvious choice, I consider it to be unlikely that Tetradates will be there.” The bald man shrugged. “Nevertheless, it's best to be sure.”
“Adept DeWitt will travel to the year 1347, the time of the most serious outbreak of the Black Death in Europe. This is unlikely, but it is theoretically possible that these deaths would satisfy Tetradates' presumed requirements, and again, I think it best to play it safe. Finally, Adept Nagarjuna will return to the year 720 BC, to the time of the expansion of the Assyrian empire under Sargon II. Clues we have found as well as information from our astral inquiries lead us to believe that this is the era that Tetradates has chosen. We wish all three men the best of luck and...”
“Just a moment!" a voice called from the audience. “What about the Ukrainian famine engineered by the Stalin regime of the 1950's?”
The Master of the Assembly nodded his head and responded readily.
“A good question. We considered the possibility of the infamous Great Leap Forward as well. But I am told that death by starvation, even by design, is not deemed an acceptable sacrifice, perhaps since neither blood nor fire is directly involved. Are there any further questions?”
When no one else spoke up he raised a slim hand in dismissal. “Enough has been said. May the Logos aid us all in this matter.”
Yung Chu followed Dag out of the hall quietly, too lost in thought to take part in the lively discussions that were breaking out in the crowded Council hall. He noticed a troubled look on his companion's angular face.
“What's the matter?”
Dag shook his head. “I'm not sure. I have to go and think about something.”
He looked down at the shorter Asian and his blonde-lashed eyes narrowed.
“Are you free tonight, around ten o'clock?”
Yung Chu nodded his assent.
“Good,” Dag replied. “I'll find you in your chambers then.”
Yung Chu nodded again and watched as the Discordian walked quickly towards the eastern exit, his borrowed white robes trailing behind him.
“So, what are you thinking?" Yung Chu asked a few hours later, as he watched Dag trace a complicated pattern on a blank piece of paper.
Incense trailed upwards toward the ceiling, filling the small room with sweet smoke as the evil apprentice completed the ideograph and turned towards him. They were both dressed less formally than before, in t-shirts and jeans.
“I think I know where Tetradates is.”
“Which is…” Yung Chu prompted him.
“Not where the Assembly thinks he is.” Dag rubbed at his scars. “Do you remember the hexagram you found at the apartment?”
“Yes, of course. Number thirty-five, Chin.”
“And the reading was?”
Yung Chu closed his eyes, trying to picture the crumpled piece of paper in his mind. Then the image returned to him, and he was able to state the quote with confidence.
“For the top. 'He advances as with lowered horns, intent solely upon subduing the cities. Whether his affairs go awry or prosper, he is not in error, but for him to persist thus would involve him in ignominy.'”
He grinned at Dag. “I suppose killing thirty million people could be construed as ignominious.”
Dag nodded his head in silent agreement.
“So why not Sargon II, then?” Yung Chu asked.
“Too obvious,” Dag replied. “Your Master Gorean and the Assembly are acting on the incorrect assumption that history is immutable.”
He bit his upper lip as he handed Yung Chu the paper on which he'd been drawing.
“What do you make of this?”
Yung Chu studied the hexagram carefully.
“Double K'un is K'un of course. Hmmm….” He glanced up at Dag and shrugged. “I don't recall. What does the text say?”
Dag flipped open a slim leather-bound book and read out loud.
“Passive principle, sublime success! Its omen is a mare. The Superior Man has an objective and sets forth to gain it. At first he goes astray, but later finds his bearings. It is advantageous to gain friends in the West and South, but friends in the East and North will be lost.”
He closed the book with an audible snap and cocked a pale eyebrow.
“Now use your imagination.”
Yung Chu pursed his lips in thought.
“Let's see. I imagine your inquiry concerned where Tetradates disappeared to, right?”
Dag nodded affirmatively, but did not speak.
“Then, hmmm…. There's a horse culture of sorts involved, obviously, and a great man, presumably a historical figure of note. West and south is good, but east and north….”
Dag nodded again.
“Never mind that for now. Where is he?” He stared into Yung Chu's dark eyes, seeking an answer. “Where is he? Don't resort to logic, don't try to think it through, just let your mind flow freely. What does it tell you, Yung Chu?”
&n
bsp; Yung Chu swallowed and replied as the obvious answer appeared like magic in his head.
“Twelve hundreds. Mongolian empire. Temujin. It's got to be Temujin.”
Dag leaned back and smiled approvingly at the young white-robe's quick understanding.
“Exactly! The Khan of Khans. Genghis. That's just what I came up with myself.”
Yung Chu shook his head, exhaling to release his psychic tension as Dag rose gracefully to his feet and opened a thick black book lying on the oak desk to a page that had been marked.
“Now take a look at this,” Dag told him.
Yung Chu walked over to the desk and bent over the book.
“' Subutai had swiftly grown to enormous stature and bulk; none of the steppe horses could carry him far, and he customarily traveled in an iron wagon…'” he read aloud.
The Logosian acolyte looked up from the book with a puzzled look on his face.
“What is this? Subutai was one of Genghis Khan's four Hounds, not a fat man on a cart!”
“Think again, Yung Chu,” Dag grinned knowingly. “Look at the cover.”
Yung Chu did as he was told.
“The Secret History of the Mongols,” he said, correctly interpreting the ideograms. “I know I've read this before and I'm almost positive it didn't say anything like that!”
“I doubt it did. But what if history itself is changing even as we speak?” Dag indicated the book. “I know Tetradates cast a time-link spell on certain books, keeping them up to date as the historical events recorded within them changed. This is one of them. Interesting, too, that he chose this particular book.”
Yung Chu ignored his musings, still too unsettled by the shocking implications of the altered text.
“But you're saying that history isn't static, but fluid!”
“Well, dynamic at any rate.”
“Why don't I know about this?" Yung Chu was horrified. He could not have been more alarmed if an abyss had suddenly opened up under his feet. “Do the Masters know?”
“I should think they must, but I suppose the knowledge is most likely suppressed.”
“Why?”