CHAPTER TWO
"Two questions before you kill me," whispered Myron as he darted forward, weaving his sword and body in a complex erratic motion that was very hard to predict.
"You are a Demonlord so I will only answer one," replied Rashalika sweetly, predicting the curious rhythum in Myron's advance and gliding in a cresent shape to first evade sideways, then approach.
There was a buzzing metalic crash as the swords met, their motion nothing but a blur to the eye. Rashalika and Myron both drifted back to study one another's style, out of range and thus quite far apart.
The battle continued in this way for some time; a slow and steathy circling was followed by a frenzy of blindingly fast swordwork that lasted less than a secord.
Rashalika lifted his sword to the sky and drew power from the sun. Myron aimed his sword downward and drew power from below. Rashalika swung his sword like a vastly powerful pendulum, his strikes now slower but with vast momentum.
Myron Evaded the swordpath like a snake and launched a series of rapid lunges that cracked like gun-shots through the thick air.
"We need another time dimension that I call Jalantra to answer the question, since it is a complex one about the spinning of galaxies. Very technical with many equasions. I require about half a merion of time to explain the background and precisely frame my question." Said Myron, speaking as if in the middle of a casual, uninterrupted conversation.
Myron attacked suddenly, his blade striking towards multiple targets in a dizzy cascade of gold and silver light.
"Very well," answered Rashalika, deflecting and countering the attack with an abrupt whip of his body. The blade drifted slowly through Myron's defence, cutting towards his neck. "I summon my Deshtoh Jinri, calling Jalantra the planet the four of us meet . Who is your Deshtoh?"
"I summon Drishnu," said Myron, and the blade bit into his neck, killing him almost instantly. Rashalika consumed his soul, summonned Myron and then was possessed by Drishnu. He opened a portal to Jalantra, a shimmering mirror that reflected Myron's corpse, blood seeping into the sand of the arena.
One being slipped into the portal, four beings emerged. The Demonlords wandered through a medow of blue grass. They were dressed in their personal colours; Rashalika in red, Myron in Golden yellow, Jin Ri in Blue and Drishnu in black. They came to a ring of fungi that resembled scarlet plants and sat down in the air just above the grass.
"It didn't Hurt at all," Muttered Myron in disgust.
"The demonlord quartet is complete on Jalantra. On Shushaldin we meet the females and then all we need is Sequa."
"Have you worshipped Sequa enough, Rashalika, I'm not going to do that. Now, can I ask the question?"
"Tell me what the second question would have been."
"I was going to improvise it."
"Do you know the females we need to meet on Shushaldin?"
"Beautiful ones."
"The Bodhisattva Tara and the Demonlady Quesha."
"Then Sequa completes the seven," said Drishnu, "so who will Sequa need to meet?"
"Tsumaki is reputed to be her name, no one has seen her or been able to summon her."
"She is too subtle for this plane. The Demon-user Darsan is only one of several beings she helps complete, she has options and no kind of obligation for her own liberation."
"That problem belongs to Sequa, we don't need to solve it on Jalantra."
There was a pause. The beings looked at one another and something silent was exchanged, something that related to their multiple yet singular identity and the being that was to become.
Then Myron gazed at Rashalika, “The battle was far too short.”
“This was only one version, besides which it has not yet started in your auxillary time dimension and a long conversation occurs before you die.”
“That’s not good enough. We need a much longer fight scene with many fascinating details. There were no elaborate tactics or layered subtleties of Strategy.”
“Well that can all be accomodated in another version of the fight, but in that one we had a conversation which prevented the addition of details before you died, and a nice clean death it was, too.”
“Clean!” exclaimed Myron.
“I prefer clean death,” said Jin Ri.
“You would,” retorted Drishnu, “since you avoid chaotic evil, but a lingering death has it’s admirers.”
“you two can fight on Shushaldin since Myron is now my Deshtoh, then the matter of death is one you can resolve in a practical manner.”
“Must we fight?”
“One stage requires combat to establish a spinal hierachy for the Darsan, but not in this lifetime on Jalantra. Here we can debate our differences.”
“I want to debate why you remain in the shadows, Rashalika. You are the Demonlord.”
“Differences of subtlety, Jin Ri. You became Shogun on the planet Nihon and placed yourself in the mainstream of human power. In this you were not recognised as the Demonlord. Myron Ruled a gallaxy and never bothered to be human about it. My power is a stage beyond, and only a few beings ever have to learn the truth. This gives a greater freedom and flexibility even while other powers appear to have more control. One reason for this is that other motives take over, we relinquish one realm of power to go beyond it to Sequa, to the higher purpose of forming the Darsan.”
“I thought it was a dragon,” said Drishnu slowly, “the dragon in the vocano that gaurds our diamond.”
“Oh it can be various creatures,” answered Myron, “but the dragon is the projection of another being. The higher self that dreams the dragon is called the Darsan and it moves in pure dim structure beyond the physical plane where dragons can exist.”
“Why don’t we have this conversation on a boat?” asked Drishnu.
“Most amusing, Drishnu, we know of your previous life.”
CHPTER THREE
A faint ring woke Myron from his deathtrance. He had been dead within his giant diamond on Hades for longer than anyone now alive could recall. Yet in the fifth time dimension he had been in his dreambody between sub space and dim structure dimensions, so the bell sounded. It sounded like the ring of the hoy. Now where was his Karen? She should be screening all intentions to steal his diamond.
He stood on a hill wearing his usual body. The diamond was a building on the horizon, small enough for the gold ring on his left pinky. He scowled at the ring and then at Mordrid, who’s black robes flapped in the westerly wind. He seemed to be gazing over Myron’s shoulder. There was a pause. Myron made a chess move in an imaginary game he played with his Deshtoh. Then he said,
“How do you teleport, Mordrid? I can’t identify your method, though I know many. All I do is speed up and run very fast from my front door to this hill.”
There was another pause. Neither of the dark Magicians moved or spoke. Then Mordrid replied in a softly hissing tone;
“You used to run that way, Myron, but you used another method today. We can exchange magics at another time. I’m using the sixth time dimension to teleport and meet you now. Rashalika has died and the cluster of gallaxies is in a suspended lul. We located his coffin in a shipment going from Jalantra and Verath to Andromeda and Milky Way. In a tiny bach of 3000 accellerating caskets. You consume of his corpse and Myron can rule the cluster for a while of whiles. Follow me.”
Mordrid vanished. Myron paused, made another chess move in his mind, and teleported to a blue Moon called Toluene. Mordred was there, seated in an armchair that incongruously faced another armchair on the barren, rocky lunar surface. Myron materialised in the armchair and a hologram of little figures appeared below and between them.
Queen D’lorah Regurk Gazed at the two corpses and then raised her head and bellowed at the sky;
“By the heart of the shadow sorcerer Demonlord Myron, I will destroy whoever is responsible for this!”
“By the way,” said Mordred, “do you have a heart?”
“Actually I do, but it never comes with my body for security reasons. It beats away in the middle of my diamond, and tends to feel safe in there. I’m moving the diamond to the inside of a volcano again.”
Queen D’lorah looked at her blue scouts in turn, looking from face to face. They wore a blue so dark as to be virtually black and their eyes were huge and nocturnal. Their black hair was in five thick plaits. The queen wore a dress of steel chainmail, blades on her forarms and a crown that was also a battle helmet with claws of silver and steel. The crown was studded with rubies, saphires, garnet and opal.
“Which tower?”
“Fellorn tower, your Majesty, just across the Epiland –Peshoria border.”
“But within Epiland, Mishresh?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Both heart stabs from the same knife?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Quickly, everyone back through the portal. I’m calling the full war council. And I have a mission for you, Mishresh. You go with Sezwin to Balovia tower here in Peshoria. Look for a large diamond in the top room, and find my gold ring. There’s only one of them in the Jewelry box. If anything’s happened to it know that you won’t meet me again and survive without that ring. Now go.”
“I obey and go, Majesty,” said Mishresh.
“I obey and go, Majesty,” said Sezwin. The two blue scouts ran off into the wet woods to the north.
“The ring,” whispered Mordred, “You can take off Rashalika’s Deshtoh ring. D’lorah has the ring.”
“But I need the ring, now, I just wear it on the right pinky and Rashalika will become my Deshtoh. Where’s my Karen? I have to locate Drishnu and he loves evading me. Sequa only knows where he is now.”
“In the sixth time we don’t need Karens. Drishnu is on Tiboria talking to his flame tiger and his panther. A demon army wants to fight for him and there are negosiations with a being identified as a Demon Lord. Drishnu trusts the insigts of his beasts.”
“The queen of Petelac swore on my heart with her full intent. I can use this as a means to return to life, though the Demonlord religion must undergo considerable change if I replace Rashalika as the high Demonlord for this aeon.”
“Queen D’lorah is destined to meet Drishnu. Many portals now regularly connect Serath with Dalurth.”
“Will that matter to us? Let’s exchange some magic before visiting Rashalika’s casket.”
“It does matter, since Drishnu is going through transformations of character and will be the direct Deshtoh of Rashalika just before his death.”
“That’s a bit obvious to Demonlords, you know, Mordred. We all die with a specific Deshtoh purpose. When Rashalika selects Drishnu then he can die and then I have this opportunity to return. However, you must have your own purposes, Mordred, and obviously I grow curious on the occasion of my ressurrection.”
“Well, I happened to witness the oath of Queen D’lorah that I just replayed to you, and I realised that her gold ring was your Deshtoh ring so I saw this possibility.”
“I understand you are not prepared to reveal deeper motives at this stage. Very well, you know something of the power of the ring, but we could leave me for dead and Drishnu will probably claim the ring once he meets the Queen of Petelac.”
“Nothing is too certain, they may have a love affair or on the other hand a bloody battle over the ring.”
“The two strike me as rather similar.”
“You only speak from personal experience, Myron.”
“Many would agree with me.”
“Many would find us both over cynical, but clearly the advent of the ring fuels the purpose for your ressurrection.”
“If we were both lawful evil I might trust you a bit more, Mordred, yet there’s clearly a few significant details you don’t tell me.”
“Perhaps. Yet that could be no more than the shadows of your own suspicion, since you expect others to be as evil as yourself. Frankly your standards are high in that respect. Few ever aspire to your level of Evil.”
“And you are one of those few, Mordrid, so I’m sure you have sneaky plans to use me for something.”
“Sneaky? Do I need to be? Surely we are friends and there is much open benefit to me if you are ressurrected to rule the Demonlord system. I don’t have to be sneaky, I just show you an opportunity for great evil we would both enjoy. Besides, with you dead things are not so interesting for me. My intentions need not be sneaky at all.”
“Mmm, a fairly convincing argument. Anyway, I may return to life and power. There would be at least two major stages of the drama since I’d have to reach Rashalika’s casket which must be gaurded by the fanatics of his pure cult and then intercept the ring via the drama of Drishnu and D’lorah.”
“What exactly is Rashalika’s pure cult? I have no details.”
“Ah, that’s just the way lesser beings react to the Demonlords. Despite our own higher nature and purpose those who worship make distinctions. Many want to be more good than evil in a direct and traditional way, so they reject Myron and Drishnu. They form a cult based on the worship of an isolated Rashalika, ignoring the way that bastard wears the gold ring on his left pinky and what that means for me. Obviously the pure cultists are attempting to preserve the corpse and wait for the ressurrection of Rashalika. If they knew their own intentions they mean to split a quarter of a Demonlord Darsan from it’s other selves and establish Rashalika as a singular God. In one way it is technically possible, but try convincing Rashalika is what I say.”
“Do the pure cultists have much power?” asked Mordred slowly, his eys scanning the dim blue horizon of the Moon.
“Oh yes, they must do now or we have little dynamic for a good drama. If we just teleported to the casket now and killed the cultists easily then there’s not much drama for a good story.”
“I don’t often deal at the level of telling a story.”
“Well you don’t have much to do with that silver crow.”
The End of the Belly Book