Ar'Kendrithyst

Kal’Duresh’s white city walls rose up a hundred feet into the air, a hundred feet away; blue-roofed watchtowers dotted the tall walls as far as Erick could see. What Erick couldn’t see, was a gate. There was no visible way into the place.

“Uh?” Erick asked, “Do we fly inside?”

Killzone stood tall. “We’re waiting for an escort.” He waved to someone up top.

Erick looked up. Guards on the wall waved back. One of them sparked light blue; like a bit of reality peeling away, a wide transparent sky-blue staircase appeared, leading from the top of Kal’Duresh’s walls to the sands ten feet in front of Erick.

Mog walked forward, smirking back to Erick, saying, “I’ll take point,” as she stepped onto the staircase, one hand on her hip, walking forward with a slight swing. “And that’s all the flirting I get.” She walked like a soldier. “Shame.”

Erick walked behind her. In any other scenario, he would have looked at what Mog was shaking, but that seemed like a bad idea in this situation.

No-nonsense Killzone took the rear.

Soon, Erick was standing on ten foot wide, white stone city walls. The walls reminded Erick of pictures he had seen of the Great Wall of China. One incani man and one incani woman, both of them with violet skin, white hair, and curving white horns, greeted them as Erick walked onto the wall. Both of them wore shoulder guards and a chest plate atop easy-to-move-in cloth and leather clothes that seemed more decorative than functional. Erick had seen their type of armor before; it served as a decorative ‘scaffold’ for [Conjure Armor].

“Greetings, Archmage Erick Flatt of Urth. Killzone, and Mog,” said the man. “I’m Captain Cazo. This is my second, Sargent Biloi.” The woman bowed. Cazo gestured toward the city, saying, “We have an appointment at the Castle, but I would like to extend Kal’Duresh’s hospitality. This would also give us time to prepare our citizenry with [Weather Ward]s. Would you care to see our great city?”

Erick smiled, but what he was thinking was about certain Earth governments inviting foreigners to ‘come see how great our country is’ and ‘whoops! You weren’t supposed to see the wooden shacks behind that wall’. He crushed that personal response, and tried to keep an open mind.

Mog and Killzone looked relaxed enough.

Erick said, “We can have a tour.”

Cazo smiled wide, saying, “Excellent! Let us start with the Pearl Quarters.”

Biloi cast another staircase on the other side of the wall that arced into the streets of Kal’Duresh, like a gentle sky-blue rainbow. Biloi took point, while Cazo followed, talking about the city in front of them, then went Mog and Erick, with Killzone in the rear; the huge dark wrought orcol acting calm, but with a surety of movement that belied his readiness for anything.

- - - -

The streets of Kal’Duresh were filled with well maintained flowerbeds full of rainbow arrangements, and fountains on every street. Grey stone streets contrasted white walls and tall towers, with large glass windows and people in loose white clothes. White and blue seemed the predominant colors of the city, and the clothes, but there was just as much variation here as he saw in Frontier. Hair seemed mostly black, white, grey, or violet, while skin was anywhere from deep purple, almost black, to magenta, to pale violet, to even human-colored, but with a purple tinge to the browns, tans, and pinks.

Some incani saw Erick and company walking their way, and moved out of the street; others saw Cazo and two 9 foot tall people, and acted like nothing was strange at all. A few people gave Erick uncomfortable looks, but nothing happened beyond that. No assaults, no threats, just a gentle tour of the city. One dude did see Erick and drop a whole tray of eggs, though; he was unloading from a cart to his shop, but all of a sudden he was faced with cleaning up a mess.

Once they were past the egg guy, who began cursing at himself, Erick had to ask a question and interrupt the speech Cazo had been giving this whole time. Erick had tuned out the man minutes after he began talking; all he seemed to talk about were local landmarks.

Cazo exalted, “And this tower once belonged to one of the wealthiest man in Kal’Duresh, but he lost it playing Towers—”

“Sorry to interrupt, Cazo—”

“No worries! What would you like to know?”

Erick was about to ask him where they got their farmed goods from, but another question that he failed to get answered yesterday, popped into his head, demanding an answer.

“Will the recent destruction of Odaali by the Halls of the Dead cause friction between our three cities?”

Mog grumbled. Killzone was still silent, but it seemed like his was a deeper silence than before. They were in the middle of some random street, without many people around them, but there was a dragonkin over—

Oh hey! A non-incani.

Cazo spoke with seriousness. “The Halls of the Dead should rename themselves the halls of the idiots. They are terrorists who promote ultimate violence against a sleeping beast. The Greensoil Republic, with humans alone, outnumbers the incani of the Wasteland Kingdoms 10 to 1. With the addition of the other people, they outnumber us 25 to 1. The Halls of the Dead might have doomed our people by igniting the Quiet War into all out war.” He said, “I am ashamed to be allied with those terrorists and I hope we can pull back from further acts of overt aggression.”

Erick let that sit for a moment, then nodded, saying, “I’m glad to hear that. But was that a dragonkin I just saw? I thought you guys were xenophobic?”

Cazo had a response, but it transformed into a grunt of disbelief. Baloi went googly eyed, like someone had smacked her with a fish and she was still processing what had happened.

Mog laughed, though, asking, “Why would you think that?”

“Look! Okay. I’m literally not from this planet and I’ve not had a very kind treatment because of my species and I may look old but I’ve only been here… what? 45 days? Maybe? I might have assumed a lot that was likely untrue.”

Cazo pointed down another street, saying, “Let’s go visit the demi district!”

- - - -

Orcols, woughts, dragonkin, and… not humans? Certainly not incani. They had horns but they were smaller, almost not even there.

The district here was much larger and more active than the other parts of the city Erick had seen. It was like walking through a cleaner, brighter Spur. Heavy cooking spices carried on the wind, people haggled with vendors. An orcol crafted [Special Ward]s as white paint across grey stone. A bread shop with large glass windows and larger crowds served a constant stream of people, while bakers put more bread out all the time.

Mog was visibly relaxed. Killzone seemed to move a bit easier.

“What’s a demi, though?” Erick asked.

“Half-incani,” said Cazo, who had not said a word as they walked through this demi district. “Unwelcome in the Republic, but cherished in the Wasteland Kingdoms, demis are proof that peace and love can exist between our peoples, but also proof that humanity is incapable of embracing that love. Demis are banished from the Greensoil Republic, without exception.”

“Oh.” Erick said.

“Do you know the story of the Alvani, the Script, and the Horror of the Angels?”

“No. But I remember that name from… somewhere.”

Cazo nodded. “Let us walk for a while longer; the Baroness will want to explain that story herself. She is almost ready.”

- - - -

Erick walked past lakes and tiered farmlands, which were nothing compared to Spur’s new farm land, but were still nice to see. He walked through neighborhoods with kids of every species. He kept an eye on Mog and Killzone, too. Both of them were still on high alert, but both of them also looked very interested in what they were seeing.

Eventually, their path led them up toward the central, spiraling castle, and the massive layered tree that grew from multiple trunks and hugged the whole airy, towered, tiered, marvel of architectural engineering, that was Kal’Duresh Castle. The whole trip, Erick hadn’t really seen guards, but up here, there were a few castle guards, wearing bright blue versions of Cazo and Biloi’s armors. They weren’t here for visual sake, though; Cazo went up to the first one, and that guy led them across garden grounds, toward the castle.

The garden was a flat portion of land around the Castle, with low hedges and clear sight lines across a hundred yard space, filled with greenery and bright pink flowers.

… They weren’t walking toward the Castle. They were headed toward a small gazebo in the center of the garden. The stone, airy gazebo was oddly reminiscent of the temple in Spur’s garden, but smaller, more cozy, and done in white stone with a table in the middle. Surrounding that table were smaller chairs. Another guard waited nearby, but outside of the gazebo.

Inside of the gazebo, waited an older woman wearing flowing pale pink robes, who stood upon seeing Erick walk up through the garden; her garden. Erick had been briefed on what Baroness Pirazel Xelxex looked like, and this woman was her. With long white hair, magenta skin, and two uneven, curling horns, Xelxex was an unmistakable figure in Wasteland Society.

She stepped to the edge of her gazebo, saying, “Welcome to Kal’Duresh, Archmage Erick Flatt. I hope you enjoyed the tour? It’s my understanding that you have not been exposed to incani society, so I hope you will forgive me for trying to lessen the evils you might have heard.”

Straight to it then? Erick could have applauded her honesty. But she would have known that he would applaud her for that, so the effect was only marginally effective.

“At this point, acknowledging that I’m being manipulated is only a partial relief.” Erick smiled, saying, “But you do have a very nice city, and some of my misconceptions have been laid to rest. I would like to lay some more to rest. I understand you have a story about the Alvani for me, Baroness?”

She smiled, and it might’ve actually been genuine. She gestured to her table inside the gazebo, saying, “Join me for tea? We can talk, and it should take just the right amount of time for our vulnerable or wary to be placed under [Weather Ward]s.”

More than enough time had passed for them to get that done, but Erick went along anyway.

Erick said, “Of course.”

The gazebo was not overly large; maybe ten foot across and about that high. It was not sized for orcols, but it was sized for 6 foot tall people. Mog just nodded at Erick; she would want to take an outside position anyway. Erick stepped into the gazebo, while Killzone took position outside, gazing at the castle and the tree wrapping around the white stone towers.

Erick sat down on one side of the central table. The Baroness sat on the other. She served tea herself from a dainty tea pot, into a nice set of cups and saucers. She took the first sip, then Erick took one too. It tasted of citrus flowers; nice and light. Erick surprised himself; the old him, before the planar-thing, would have [Cleanse]d the tea, and probably started this whole meeting off on the wrong foot.

Baroness Pirazel Xelxex began, “Back before the Sundering and the Script, there were no incani. There were, however, the Alvani; a people born of angel and human. Some had wings. Most had uncommon magical ability. They were a blessed people, but their blessings ran out within the first few iterations of the Script, when the Ancient Demons broke something fundamental in order to attempt to win the Forever War.

“When the Old Wizards tore the universe apart, the Alvani suffered like all the rest, but they actually survived that cataclysm and landed on Veird as intact as anyone else. Several Alvani became quick architects of the Script, trying to hold onto whatever they could reach. Somewhere between the Creation of the Wrought and the First Script, and the transformation of Orcs and Trolls into Orcol, all of the half-species who had survived the Sundering, suddenly did not. The Elementassi died, all at once. The very nature of the Alvani, killed them. The dragonkin died; the dragonkin survived. No one is sure how that last one happened, only that it did; some of these genocides caused by the Ancient Demons obviously went deeper into the nature of Reality than others.

“When the next iteration of the Script came into being, the attempts to fix what had been broken only cemented what the Ancient Demons had done.

“No longer would children be born between the union of Angel and Human. Now, the Demons and the Humans would produce mortal offspring, with souls destined for Hell.

“But the Ancient Demons messed up.

“The first generations of Incani who sprung forth from the carnal and military desires of Ancient Demons, would indeed die and go to Hell, thus giving new life to the war against the heavens. But we were so much more powerful than the Ancient Demons had imagined. Our people usurped and murdered all the Ancient Demons in under five generations. Now, Hell is a resting place for our kind. Hell has been under the control of the Incani for eleven hundred years.”

She sipped her tea.

Erick drank his.

She said, “But the Angels did not see the destruction of their old enemies as a win.

“They could only see that their Alvani were replaced by demonic offspring; they believed that Hell had just changed hands, as it had supposedly done so many times before the Sundering. The Ancient Angels fight for impossible solutions, while they indoctrinate the gullible and the power hungry of their flock into murdering the very souls of every Incani they can.

“And so, the Incani began life as a persecuted people, enslaved by Ancient Demons, and hated by the angels of humanity for the crime of existing in place of their own children. We solved one problem by destroying every Ancient Demon, but the other problem is impossible; the Forever War continues to fuel the Quiet War, to this day.”

She sighed, “From there, the lists of warcrimes goes back and forth. Soul-killing weapons for them. Soul-twisting magics for us.” She looked to Erick. “Dinnamoth now sits on the Red Throne as the current Demon King. He has been the Demon King for three hundred years, after the previous Demon King willed the throne to Dinnamoth.

“Dinnamoth has recently passed down a decree to all who would listen: ‘The Halls of the Dead are hereby excommunicated from Hell for the danger they have planted on Veird.’ If they take no steps to repent, upon their deaths, he will reap their souls and return them to the karmic cycle, himself.”

She shook her head. “The Halls of the Dead are not going to repent, though.”

Erick had a lot of things to research, now, but he would save all of that till later. He had finished his tea. He said, “That was all very enlightening.”

She smiled softly, saying, “But you must bear out your own research. As one does.”

A shrewd question came to him. He asked, “Have you publicly disavowed the actions of the Halls of the Dead?”

“Of course.”

“… Did you do that because you wanted to, or because Dinnamoth led the way?”

“Yes.”

“… I’ve heard demons practice slavery. What does this mean?”

Xelxex paused, with a similar fish-to-the-face expression that Biloi had when Erick brought up xenophobia. Xelxex reoriented quicker, though. She said, “Incani participate in slavery in name only. If an incani does not enter in a Pact— if they do not accept an [Enslave Soul] spell cast upon them by their chosen demonic household, when they die they will drop onto some random location in Hell, where they automatically join the ranks of the peasantry, or return to the karmic cycle, if they desire such a thing.” She spoke seriously, “If you want to know about living slavery —actual slavery— with people beaten to death by uncaring masters for any perceived slight at all, or the sexual crimes enabled by cultures and individuals, we can talk about the human cultures of Continental Nergal.”

“… Um. I’ll talk to someone else about that.”

“We are ready for your spell, now, anyway.”

Erick said, “Okay. Then—”

[Domain of the Withering Slime].

Thick air spilled up from the ground, all around, while the white core of the Withering Slime formed around Erick; encapsulating the gazebo and Xelxex.

Xelxex smiled as the air transformed. She said, “This is all very marvelous. There are spells that can already do this; ways to clear a city of harmful things. But you either have to go through buildings individually, or level the city and rebuild. In either case you have to evacuate, but someone always fails to evacuate, and by doing that you open yourself to an attack. No no… This is just… amazing. We need to get a Particle Mage.”

Erick realized he had a new goal, in addition to all the rest.

… it would likely be impossible.

But maybe he could make all the SLRs for every Particle spell, and lock them behind ‘Monster Only’.

Xelxex asked, “Any monsters yet?”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Erick came back to himself, and looked at his notifications. “Yes. … Quite a lot. That’s… at least 200 wolves… Five cats. Wow!”

Xelxex paused, eyes wide, head tilted just a bit. “Come again?”

“Seven cats. That’s a lot of wolves, so I’m going to have to take a minute to count them—”