Chapter XIX

Boanne had been growing concerned about Deidra the more she heard about her relationship with Therion. She respected Therion as the King of Nihilus, and would follow nearly any order he gave. She even thought he was a good king, but she had to admit, if only silently and only to herself, she thought he was a terrible man. He was more than likely a murderer and of his own brothers and cousins no less. Furthermore she had heard countless stories of his previous mistresses, ones he lost interest in and who were left with nothing when he kicked them out of the castle. Granted, most of them never really expected to win that man's heart, but Boanne was scared that Deidra might be expecting Therion to fall in love with her. And so, as a concerned friend, during one of the rare times that Deidra was not hanging all over Therion, specifically while Therion was tending to important matters of state, Boanne took Deidra aside, in her room, to talk to her about the relationship.

She wasn't sure exactly how to start off the conversation, she couldn't very well start off such a conversation by saying, “Therion's a terrible man! Stop sleeping with him!” so she started off with, “Tell me, Deidra, what do you like about Therion?”

Deidra, as perky and up-beat as could be, said, “I really really like when we're in bed and...”

Boanne interrupted her. “I know you like sleeping with him, Deidra!” Boanne couldn't say she really blamed her, Therion was a handsome man, in a rough and tough, animal sort of way. “I mean...what makes him so...special.”

“he makes me feel good, even when his beard scratches my thighs...”

“Deidra!” Boanne interrupted again, trying to get the image out of her head. “By Prunikos! Beyond the physical! What about him! Anything non-sexual at all?”

Deidra's answer was one of the most perplexing things Boanne had ever heard her say. “When he speaks I hear the red in his voice. When he walks I can see the songs of his soul, and it sings beautifully in a dancing array of sparkly stars. When he kisses me I taste the memories of the number seven, and it's so beautiful!”

“...What does any of that even mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“Those things you just said! What do they mean? Or was that another prophecy that you can't remember?”

“I remember it just fine, I don't understand the question. I think it explains itself. He makes me feel the the flavor of peace whenever he's around, even when we're not wildly fornicating.”

“The flavor of peace? Deidra, you realize nothing you're saying makes any kind of sense, right?”

“Yes it does!” Deidra said and stamped her foot like an indignant child.

“Never mind, listen, what if Therion gets tired of you like he has so many of his other mistresses? What if he throws you out?”

“he won't, I'm going to grow a pair for him.”

“WHAT?!” Boanne was thoroughly shocked and confused at this point. She stammered incoherently, trying to figure out how to respond to the bizarre phrase that had just fallen off of Deidra's lips. She hoped that Deidra meant a “pear” rather than a “pair,” but even that would have only made just a little more sense.

“Yes, in the oven I'll grow a pair that will bring despair to those who sing to rocks. Didn't I already tell you this?” Deidra said it so matter-of-factly, as if she was informing Boanne that the sky was blue or kittens were adorable, and furthermore as if what she was saying was even comprehensible.

It then occurred to Boanne that perhaps the bond between Deidra and the daemons who fed her their prophecies had become far stronger than it was before, and that this was driving her to a strange form of madness. She looked at Deidra with a mix of pity and admiration in her eyes. Deidra had always been fairly difficult to talk to, she had always thought differently from most people, but it seemed that the short time in which Boanne was able to talk to her as a friend was coming to an end. All she could do now was pray that the daemons would take care of her and keep her from harm.

. . .

Elsewhere in Nihilus, Meriel and Lorna, two of Therion's generals, met to discuss the plan of attack.

“Qenneth is chasing dreams,” Meriel said. “Honestly, I don't think we really need him. I say that once we're ready we start the invasion without waiting for that idealistic fool.”

“I agree, really, but if the King wishes us to wait for him...” Lorna countered.

“What do you care about more, satisfying King Therion, or winning the war?” Meriel asked. “If we charge in without his say-so and come back victorious you really think he'll have us tried for treason?”

“Would King Therion? Maybe. He could have both of us killed and claim credit for the victory himself. I'm not so anxious to see the hang-man's noose, Meriel. If you want to test his patience you do so without me.”

“Fine fine,” Meriel said, rolling her eyes. “How far along are your plans?”

“My spies are trying to make our candidate the new Chancellor, since the previous one has been killed. However, my spies report that they've lost contact with all of my assassins in the capital city. I think they've all been caught.”

“Sounds like we may need to invade sooner than previously planned,” Meriel said.

“Yes. Putting a Chancellor in power that’s secretly on our payroll may prove useless at this point. The young King of Arx hardly seems the type to favor preemptive strikes, from what my spies have told me, but at the rate things are going I wouldn't put it past him to have a change of heart. We're going to have to focus our efforts on the March of Muri. Once we can get through there our forces can march through the County of Xane and surround the capital.”

“Sadly we'll need King Therion's permission before we actually launch the attack, yes?”

“Yes, but as soon as Qenneth returns from his pointless quest I'm sure the King will approve.”

. . .

At that very moment, Qenneth and his entourage of witches and warlocks approached the ruins of Sulaiman's castle. The stories and songs told that centuries ago Sulaiman was a handsome young king, who took the throne in only his thirteenth year, when his father was murdered by Agalmite conspirators. A very powerful daemon called an Ifrit appeared to Sulaiman and told him that it would grant him any three things he wished. Sulaiman wished for great wealth, the power to destroy his enemies, and the daemons' guidance. It's said that once he asked for these things gold nuggets filled his palace and the Ifrit gave him a ring with which he could summon the daemon Malkira any time he wished, either for guidance or for aid in destroying his enemies. With Malkira's help, Sulaiman drove all of the Agalmites out of Nihilus and back to the land of Arx. The two of them killed many angels together, and leveled mountains in a display of wondrous power. This is why Nihilus is so flat. With Malkira's guidance, Sulaiman became the most just king ever to live, writing a code of laws that ensured justice for all deserving peoples. He acted as judge over disputes between nobles, and took titles away from those who had abused them. The crowning accomplishment of his rule was building Leti Academy, where his subjects could learn to summon daemons as he did, and the daemons blessed him with a beautiful wife and three strong sons.

However, the stories say that the God of the Agalmites grew angry with Sulaiman, resenting all the good that the young king was doing, and in his wrath he caused a volcano to erupt far away. As a result Sulaiman's castle was buried in ash and mud. Sulaiman and two of his sons were swallowed up by the ground, and the greatest king Nihilus ever had was lost forever. The only son who escaped, the middle child, fled further west and established a new castle there, and the current line of Nihilus kings was born from him.

The stories never really stated whether or not Sulaiman's ring survived, but it was a common legend among peasants that it could be found and some small part of Sulaiman's legacy could be restored. Qenneth had always believed these legends to be true, and felt that more important than the power the ring would bring would be the connection to Nihilus' history. Morale won wars, pure and simple.

The ruins were under a hill in the otherwise flat Nihilus countryside. Qenneth and his conscripts knew it was there because they could see the tallest spires rising out of the ground, covered in moss and grass. More importantly, amongst the trees Qenneth could see three angels walking around. They carried swords made of some sort of crystal in their hands. As Qenneth looked at these three through his spyglass he halted his entourage and gave the hand signal to dismount. None of them remembered the signal, even though Qenneth had taught them every important hand signal just before they left their homes, but when they saw Cory climb off of his horse they realized what they were supposed to do and followed suit. Qenneth soon followed and knelt on the ground near them, gesturing for them all to kneel as he was.

In a low voice he said, “Three angels. Yes, we outnumber them, but the last time we encountered just one it wiped out many men in seconds with little effort. The best strategy I can think of is to summon as many daemons as we can and send them to fight the angels for us. Unlike us the daemons won't end up trapped in the Idol's so-called Heaven if defeated.”

Following Qenneth's orders, the witches and warlocks immediately summoned daemons or called upon their Familiars for help. For the next few minutes all Qenneth could hear were the names “Ophanim,” “Abaddon,” “Lamassu,” “Sekhmet,” “Sothac,” and many other daemonic names. He was actually very surprised at the sheer variety of daemons that appeared; some that looked like wheels of fire with eyes all around, some that looked like swarms of locusts with human faces, some that looked like massive bulls with eagle wings and women's faces, some that looked like twenty-legged spiders with four human heads, and others still that looked like octopi with hundreds of tentacles.

No sooner had the daemons been summoned than the angels were upon them. The witches and warlocks fled at the sight of the angels. Qenneth fled as well, but Cory stayed in the thick of the battle to shout commands to Ormond, his powerful familiar.

Ormond's tail, which had the head of a venomous serpent, struck out at the angels when they were behind him, while Ormond thrashed around on the ground and trampled the angels whenever they were in front of him. The Lamassu kicked the angels around as well. They brought their cloven-hooves down on their heads and cracked their crystalline bodies. The locusts couldn't do much to actually harm the angels, but they acted as a distraction. The angels fought back with amazing speed and ferocity. They stabbed the daemons wildly and nearly wiped out all of the daemons on the battlefield before the three of them were finally trampled into diamond-dust.

Upon seeing the battle’s end Cory laughed loudly and called out, “We won! General Qenneth! We won! Ha ha!”

Qenneth and the witches and warlocks cautiously walked back towards the scene of the battle and looked down at the glimmering dust on the ground. “I don't believe it...” Qenneth said. True, the angels had defeated most of the daemons on the battlefield before they went down, but still, the angels had been killed, as far as Qenneth could tell.

“Thanks to your leadership,” Cory said, saluting Qenneth. “What would you have us do now, sir?”

Qenneth looked around at his conscripts. All of them stared in disbelief, except for Cory, who seemed utterly unsurprised by this turn of events. Qenneth had at least considered the possibility that something would go horribly wrong during the battle, he had no idea they'd all survive. “Start digging,” Qenneth said. “We have to get down to the palace of King Sulaiman if we're going to find his ring.”

The conscripts got to work. They took out the shovels and spades they'd brought with them and dug through the thick layers of mud that had buried the ancient palace. Cory gave orders to Ormond, and Ormond dug alongside them with his hooves. Most of the witches and warlocks there thought this was a terribly demeaning task to assign to a daemon, but Ormond had a totally unquestioning loyalty to Cory, and was happy to do anything Cory asked.

“Why aren't you digging with the others?” Qenneth asked Cory, who stood back, watching the process.

“I am helping,” Cory said and pointed to Ormond.

“That's a help, certainly, but it would be an even bigger help if you dug alongside them.”

“Same could be said for you,” Cory said. “But you and I know we're both too important for that.”

Qenneth turned up his nose at Cory, disgusted at being compared to such an arrogant brat. Swallowing his pride, Qenneth took off his armor and walked over to the hill, where he began to dig alongside the men and women he'd forced into this venture. “Never tell anyone to do something you're afraid to do yourself,” Qenneth's mother always used to say. Qenneth had almost forgotten that. Seeing someone so important as the great general Qenneth digging beside them the people there began to feel a greater swell of pride in the work they were doing. No longer was it a miserable task that they were forced to undertake, but it was an honor.

Cory, however, became all the more arrogant as he saw this. Qenneth could have used his vast authority to put him in his place and force him to dig as well, and this would have cut Cory down to size quite a bit. The fact that Qenneth not only didn't argue against Cory's appraisal of his own importance, but he also began to dig alongside the conscripts without ordering Cory to help told Cory that he was more important even than General Qenneth.