by Rex Jameson
“Not again,” he whispered.
The door flung open and Lord General Ross strode in, all business.
“I just came from the King,” he said. “The situation is dire. A demon lord has risen from the underworld—”
“Orcus,” Ashton said, turning his head to look at the plate-clad general.
“How did you know?” Godfrey asked, moving beside Ashton and putting his hands on the table beside Ashton’s.
“It’s hard to explain,” Ashton said. “My dreams and nightmares sometimes have information in them.”
“Well, here’s something you may not know,” Godfrey said. “The undead are everywhere. They’re sacking Foxbro, Alefast, Perketh, and every town we’ve received pigeons from in the south.”
“They’re not my undead!” Ashton said. “I didn’t do that. It’s all Orcus.”
“It doesn’t matter whose they are,” Godfrey said. “If we’re going to fight demon lords, the Kingdom of Surdel needs its heroes. It needs my son.”
“Swords don’t kill the undead,” Ashton said. “You need fire, and you need to make sure there are no corpses in Kingarth. I’ve seen Orcus moving in my dreams. The dead respond to him, without him even needing to call them. They rise out of the ground of their own accord. You need to empty the cemeteries. Put the bodies outside of the walls and burn them.”
“Maybe we just need our own army of undead,” Godfrey said, putting his hand on Ashton’s. “Please. I beg you. Bring my son back.”
“Your son is gone,” Ashton said. “If I try to raise him, something else will come through. If it’s a demon, we’re all dead. There are no paladins in the capital. It will melt through these walls. It will kill everything here. You’ve seen what they can do.”
“My son would never abandon us,” Godfrey said. “He’s a hero of the people. He hasn’t left us.”
Ashton closed his eyes to try to concentrate, to feel the vibrations of a soul. He felt nothing.
“I don’t feel him,” Ashton said. “He may not have had a choice. It’s been too long. He’s in the Abyss.”
“The Abyss?” Godfrey asked.
“When the elves brought the demons here,” Ashton said, “they accidentally connected this world to the Abyss. I’ve been there. She made me fall into it… I think she’s the one who connected this world to it…”
“Who?” Godfrey asked.
“Mekadesh,” Ashton said. “The Holy One.”
“The paladin god?”
Ashton sighed. “I don’t know what she is anymore. A demon lord. A goddess. A manipulator. A puppet master of worlds.”
Godfrey’s strong hand moved from Ashton’s hand to his shoulder and then turned Ashton towards the general. Godfrey stared into Ashton’s eyes. The look was unreadable, but because of what the general had done to him before, Ashton began to sweat despite the frigid temperature.
“Do what’s right,” Godfrey said, “Give me my son. Break this demon’s hold on us by giving us our heroes back.”
Ashton sighed and shook his head. “Lord General… I swear on my dead friends and family, I can’t tell you that what comes back will be Frederick. If I knew it would be him, I’d do it.”
“Just… do it,” Godfrey said softly and threateningly. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
He squeezed Ashton’s shoulders, nodded at him, and turned. He was through the door before Ashton could say anything else. The door locked, and Ashton was left alone. Or so he thought.
“Touching,” Mekadesh said.
She emerged from a nearby dark corner, and Ashton jumped with surprise and instinctively put his hand over his heart. She wore her tight, black leather outfit and dark hair. She walked slowly and seductively toward him. His eyes never left her.
“How did you sleep?” she asked with a grin.
“How long have you been there?” Ashton asked.
“I came as soon as you called,” she said. “I’ll always be there when you call.”
“Then you heard what I said about you.”
She nodded and grinned.
“Demon lord,” she said, pointing at the clasp between her breasts.
“Goddess”, she said, pointing toward her face and then making a downward motion, like a zipper. The blonde version of her covered the left half of her face and cascaded down her body. Half white virgin dress; half black seductress.
“Manipulator,” she said, pointing at her mouth and showing a white, toothy smile.
She raised her hands like a limp marionette. “Puppet master of worlds.”
“I didn’t mean anything—”
“You’re an observant man,” she said, “much more so than other men I’ve met.”
The holy side of her body faded, and she circled him and the table, trailing a finger around the dead body of Frederick Ross. She was black as night and seductive as a whispered promise from the shadows of a brothel.
“What do you think of the father’s request?” she asked.
“I think he doesn’t know what he asks.”
“What doesn’t he know?” she asked, looking down at Frederick as she continued to circle.
“That Frederick,” Ashton said, “the hero of Surdel, might come back as a demon.”
She stopped.
“I’m a demon,” she said. “Aren’t I?”
He knew she was testing him, but he still didn’t understand the game.
“I don’t know what you are. Why don’t you tell me? Where did you come from?”
“What I am is irrelevant,” she said, resuming her clockwise path around the table.
“Then what is?” he asked. “I will not cavort with demons. I didn’t even want to raise the dead.”
“Stop whining,” she said. “For you to lead this world’s armies, you will have to be strong. Where demons see weakness, they see opportunity. They must see none in you.”
“I don’t want to lead the world’s armies,” he said.
“Then lead mine,” she said.
“What is it you see in me?”
“I see a reminder of Maddox,” she said, “and the potential destruction of the Abyss.”
A sea of conflicting emotions coursed through him. Surprise, confusion, and after a time, curiosity.
“You want to destroy the Abyss?” Ashton asked.
“I am prepared to make any sacrifice,” she said. “My creations. My desires. Myself.”
“You’re a demon,” he said. “You lie. What do you want from me?”
She looked away, back toward the dark corner she had come from.
“You’re not wrong,” she said, “and I’ve told you this before. I’m not accustomed to being honest. I’ve had to lie for so long that I fear I may have forgotten how to tell the truth. Perhaps, I no longer know my own story. I certainly wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Then I’ll start it for you,” he said. “You’re the Queen of Chaos. You created the naurun, the fire demons.”
“Yes,” she said, “I did, but that is not who I am.”
“Who are you?”
“Are you still trying to figure out my name?” she asked. “You think you can control me?”
He guffawed. She gave him too much credit. He didn’t know the first thing about controlling demons.
“My name is too ancient for your tongue,” she said. “What I can tell you is that I’ve been watching over life since the creation of this universe. I was formed from the shadows. A Watcher. A void made holy by the Creators of all worlds. In the beginning, I was uncorrupted. It was mankind who befouled me. I knew not right from wrong, for the Creators had not bestowed on me anything but my powers. Like a child, I followed and I helped. But unlike man… I was punished for it.”
She winced at a memory. In her eyes, tears formed. She clenched her fists and refused to look at Ashton. Her hair turned blonde again. Her dress became fully white and modest. A darkness fell over Ashton and all around him—not like the Abyss, but like his dreams. She shone through as the
only light, but not bright enough to reveal the entirety of where he stood. As she spoke, the figures of her story took shape in blue hues that seemed to glow in the multi-colored rainbows from the light-less windows.
“Shamed,” she said. “Discarded by the Creators—not the pretenders like this local titan Cronos. He’s just an ember that floated in from the forge. The real Creators. A thousand feet tall. They could crush the Abyss in their hands. They could end all suffering, but they see the Void as balance. They stripped me of my powers. They mocked my lack of innocence, and in my anger, I lashed out. I used their Words, the Words of Creation, against them. I made the durun. I gave them form, but they loved the Abyss. I needed Light to fight the darkness, so I created a flame—a living flame. The naurun. The fire demons. I gave myself new powers with the Words. I gave myself new purpose.”
She gritted her teeth.
“And my children… for a while, they fought beside me against the Creators. They wanted my affection, but I chose one of their counterparts as my favorite.”
“Maddox,” Ashton said.
“Yes,” she said. “A durun, if you can believe it, but pure of heart. Devoted to the destruction of the Abyss. I gave the others powers, but to him, I gave parts of myself. He saw all. He saw through all maliciousness and lies. He saw the truth wherever it was, no matter the cost. And that was fine, when that gaze turned toward the Abyss. But my children were imperfect. They hoarded their powers and used them for personal gains. They took their own worlds, and they enslaved them. Demogorgon, chief amongst them, tied his worlds to the Abyss so that it would be a well of souls to harvest for his armies and an endless immortality of torture. When something came back from the Abyss, it was docile, cowed, and ready to serve. The naurun would never destroy the Abyss. They embraced it. They fed from its terrible power—from its infiniteness and fear.”
“What happened to him?” Ashton asked. “What happened to your last general?”
“He’s gone now,” she said. “He’s dead.”
“And you would see me follow him to a similar fate?”
The night in his mind lifted, and she stood there—still blonde in white.
“He was betrayed by Orcus,” she said, “and others of my brood. They claimed the durun were under attack from the Creators. They deceived Maddox, knowing the limitations of his vision and exploiting his blind spots. Demogorgon caught him on a fiery world. He ripped Maddox apart piece-by-piece and flung those bloody remains across the galaxy. My heart broke, and I went truly dark for an Age as I mourned my favorite. Not an Age of man but an Age of an immortal. I slaughtered and I whored, even amongst my children, until my name was forgotten amongst the stars and all that was left was the Abyss and the legend of my old powers—the dark fate of the universe that I used to be. My appearance grew to be as black as my soul.”
“You want me to feel sorry for you?” Ashton asked. “You want me to look at you as a victim?”
“A victim?” she asked in surprise. She laughed, wiping some of the tears from her face. “I’m not a victim. I’m the source. I’m the solution… and so are you. If you promise to lead my people—all of my people—then I will put you on the path… His sight. His power to rip open the lords of the naurun. You will right what I have wronged. Orcus. Demogorgon. The Abyss itself.”
“You’ll put me on the path?” he asked. “The path to Maddox? If you are the solution, then solve it! Stop the demons and undead yourself!”
“I came here for a reason,” she said. “When I told you that I put myself into Maddox, my own powers, I meant it. His vision was my vision as a Watcher. His weapons were my weapons. He was my avatar. When Demogorgon struck him down, he also struck down a part of my soul. He wrenched me open and flung me across the galaxy too. And when I felt that some of those pieces had struck this world, I sought for a way here, to reclaim part of myself. I made contact with a creature here, an elf, and I felt pure joy for the first time in an immortal Age… You see? Parts of Maddox are here on this world. Not just this world—this kingdom—this small nation of Surdel. The Eye of Maddox, his vision, is but a breath away from this very room.”
She blew toward him for effect, and he breathed her in. His eyelids flitted against the warm breeze that negated the chill of the icebox.
“The paladins,” she said, “cannot stand against Orcus. Even if they did, they will certainly turn to Demogorgon, as all creatures do when he casts his gaze on them. That is his power. He turns the thinkers. The more complex the creature, the more self-aware, the easier it is for him to control it. I gave that to him. I know his strengths and weaknesses. Demons are his. Undead are too thick and brainless. Durun are shadow and chaos—he is not their master either. But humans… elves… paladins… dragons… all will turn on this world who think they have control. That will be our burden until the end.”
Ashton bit his lower lip and looked at her. Her appearance returned to dark hair and a black, tight dress.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” she said, “I’m no creature of Light. Not anymore. If you follow me, the path you’ll travel will be filled with darkness. You will be party to horrors. You will raise the undead. You will fight alongside demons, and they will kill many people and things—some innocent and some not. You will watch your friends suffer and die… but if you agree to raise one of my durun into this man,” she pointed at Frederick, “and if you come with me to claim the Eye of Maddox, I promise I’ll not lie to you again. I promise I will get you the tools you need to fight and kill the demon lords. You’ll send each of them back to the Abyss. And if you survive and after you’ve killed them and purged this land, I will show you how to destroy the Abyss. That much, I promise you.”
He sat there, trying to process the contract as it was laid out. He knew it would be binding.
“You pause and delay as if there were a choice,” she said. “This world hangs in the balance. Orcus would see it undead. Demogorgon would see it burn so it cannot be anyone else’s. I wish to empower you and leave this place once we’ve won your freedom. I wish to give you the tools to defend this world and pursue the demons to their home worlds, if you want. You can stop this from ever happening to another race or planet again.”
Her faith in him felt real. Her gaze was strong, and he believed her convictions. He didn’t know if he was capable of what she claimed he was, but he knew he could not sit back and let Orcus and Demogorgon take over the world. She had shown him the underworld of Orcus. She had shown him how powerless the Abyss made him feel, and she had shown him how much worse life under Demogorgon could be. The fire. The loss of control.
“OK,” he said, turning toward the door.
“OK?” she asked. “Just like that?”
“I’ll do it. I’ll be your champion.”
She smiled and shook her head, as if she hadn’t expected him to relent so soon. But Ashton was tired of sitting in a freezing room while the world sunk into oblivion. He knew Orcus walked the southern lands. He knew Perketh, Foxbro, and other towns were besieged, and he believed Mekadesh and Godfrey when they said that Surdel needed its heroes. Perhaps, he could be one. He was starting to believe it.
“Good,” she said, “good.”
He walked past her and laid his hands on the door handle. “I’m assuming you know how to get me past this door?”
“Naturally,” she said, “but aren’t you forgetting something?”
He turned back toward her and the table. She pointed at Frederick.
“You’re going to need him to get the Eye,” she said. “As his father Godfrey said, Surdel needs its champion, and you need a real army—one that’s actually capable of fighting the undead and the demons.”
“Right,” he said. “Frederick.”
He walked over to the table and put his hands next to Frederick’s shoulders. “How do I know one of the durun will come through and not the naurun that would turn to Demogorgon?”
“I will show you the way,” Mekadesh said. “I’ll talk you thr
ough it.”
She put her hands on Frederick and Ashton.
“When you reach out for a demon,” she said, “it’s not like a soul hovering near a body. You must reach further, into the Abyss, where the demons and damned wait. Reach out now… through the portal…”
He closed his eyes and dreamt of the Abyss that she had made him fall into while he was on horseback with Godfrey Ross and Jeremy Vossen. He felt himself drop into the soundless void, but this time, he didn’t scream into the darkness. He felt a purpose in the weightlessness and silence.
“You’ll feel them,” she said, “in the Abyss.”
A silent shape brushed past him. Red. Angry. Hurt. Whimpering.
“The durun will feel different,” she said. “They’ll be waiting. They’re made of shadow. The Abyss is their home.”
Another shape. Red again. Sad. Tortured.
“You’ll know it when you find it,” she said.
A third shape. Purple. Quiet. Waiting.
“That’s it,” she whispered. “That’s the one.”
Ashton opened his eyes but there was only darkness in the Void. The shape was not purple. There was no light here to reflect color, but he felt like it was purple—like he saw an echo of its real being in his mind.
“Come with me,” Ashton said.
He felt a warm glow—something like happiness or relief from this thing—and then the rush back. Ashton inhaled deeply, like he had been holding his breath the entire time he had searched in the Abyss.
Frederick sat up on the table and opened his eyelids. A dark energy with purple mist leaked from his eyes, ears, and pores. The resurrected man looked at Mekadesh, who nodded toward Ashton.
“What should I do, Master?” the possessed man asked Ashton.
“Master?” Ashton asked. He shook his head.
Mekadesh rolled her eyes.
“Your armor is under the table,” Mekadesh said. “Make yourself presentable, my pet. Today, we seek audience with the King.”
21
The First Dungeon