Michael Mathias: Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

“We’re still working that out,” Jarrek answer truthfully. “But I think the kingdoms will remain as they are; the rulers as well, save for Dakahn. We will all just have to consult with King Mikahl before doing anything drastic.”

Just then, Lord Northall from the Isle of Salazar came up to the group. He tried, but couldn’t manage, to keep from staring at Phen’s stark appearance.

Phen huffed in frustration and embarrassment. Oarly laughed at him.

“You’re looking better,” Master Sholt told the island lord. “Better food, and sunlight, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Northall grinned. He had spent nearly two weeks in Ra’Gren’s dungeon. The last five days he hadn’t been fed at all because the dungeon guards had fled with most of the other palace staff. They hadn’t wanted to be eaten by the dragon, or caught by King Jarrek or the High King’s soldiers.

“How is Castlemont coming along?” Lord Northall asked.

“The dwarves, under General Diamondeen, appear to be making short work of cleaning up and rebuilding the city,” Jarrek said, showing the reverence he felt for the dwarves’ efforts. “You’ll be glad to hear that two more mines are up and producing ore. We owe you a lot. What you did was kind and generous.”

“It was more Hyden Hawk’s doing than anyone’s,” Lord Northall admitted. “I’m not sure I understand his current situation, but I’ve never met a more selfless wizard.”

“You’ll be attending the feast later?”

“I will,” Northall answered proudly. “It’s no small honor to be invited to feast at the table of men such as yourselves.”

Suddenly, a collective gasp sounded from the crowd.

“Who let the breed giant get drunk?” King Jarrek asked as he hobbled off on his crutch to try and avert disaster.

“We’d better go help him,” Phen said to the others, but Master Sholt and Master Oarly were already starting after the Red Wolf King, leaving Phen to have to hurry to catch up.

Two sets of crimson eyes cautiously approached the huge petrified form of Deezlxar. The imposing shape still filled the beings with a chill of the power that the one-time ruler of hell once exuded. They weren’t exactly sure why they had come to this place. A force that was greater than their own will had lured them here. They had no idea why they couldn’t resist, but they couldn’t.

Before long, a flock of wyverns came flapping noisily down into the blackness. The skitter and scuffle of many things, both great and small, filled the empty void around the bulky stone form. Deezlxar’s remaining dragon head loomed up high over them all. Each and every one of the demons and devils being drawn to the scene expected it to come roaring to life at any moment. Heavier wings snapped and thumped into the air as hellcats, Choska demons, and other malformed monstrosities joined the gathering mass of hell-born entities. Soon, the great expanse was filled with thousands upon thousands of dark terrifying creatures. They milled about curiously, fearfully fighting their instincts to maul one another and claim territory. None of them knew why they were gathered there.

Just when things were getting restless and some of the creatures were growing brave enough to peck and growl at the things around them, a great cracking sound filled the Nethers. Slowly, like a great tree being felled, the last neck and head of Deezlxar started on an arc downward. Most of the things cleared out from under it as it came crashing over to the floor, but a few hadn’t been paying attention, or weren’t fast enough. They were crushed under dusty scree and shattering stone.

All eyes were transfixed by the shattered head of their longtime master. Murmurs of curiosity and disbelief started working through the gathering, but soon something else commanded their attention.

A vibration, deep and powerful, started to hum around them. The sound seemed to be coming from Deezlxar’s fat, spider-like body. The sensation grew in volume and intensity. The demons and devils closest to the stone corpse backed away fearfully. Some were lucky enough to have gotten away, others were not.

The deep thrumming vibration began working through the floor. This was something that had never happened before, for the brimstone planes of hell were immobile. The body of Deezlxar began to rattle heavily. First one crack, then another split across its mass. Then, in an explosive wave, the stone form exploded, sending jagged chunks and sharp pieces flying outward into the masses. Some of the beasts were shredded by shrapnel, and others were crushed by huge pieces of falling debris, but none of them fled. They could not. The grip the new Lord of Hell had on them was absolute.

As he lay pinned under the huge mass of stone, the power of Deezlxar found its way into the thing that had once been Gerard.

Slowly, his strength returned, only now he understood everything. The malformed dragon-blooded monster rose up out of the rubble in a rage, and spread his great wings. Then Gerard let out a roaring blast of hellfire so terrifying that even the most evil of demons felt their skin crawl with fear.

“I am the Warlord! I am the Master of Hell and Earth,” the new Abbadon challenged them blatantly. “Kneel before me now, or meet your end!”

The small council hall in Oktin seemed more appropriate for a family feast than a gathering of the realm’s kings, queens, and heroes. There were no great chandeliers overhead, no golden dinnerware or jeweled flagons. There was no polished hardwood table, and there were no thrones, or even cushioned chairs. A pair of old table boards had been pushed together, and seated on the hard benches that went with them was nearly all of the realm’s royalty. On one side sat King Jarrek, Queen Willa, Queen Rachel, the Lion Lord, his wife, and General Spyra. On the other side sat General Diamondeen, Commander Escott, and Master Sholt with Oarly, Phen and Captain Trant. At the head of the table sat High King Mikahl and his new queen, side by side on a divan. At the opposite end of the board sat the huge form of Lord Bzorch, the sole breed giant attending the feast.

Toast after toast was made, to the hope of the future, to the dream of peace and prosperity. Master Biggs stepped in, even though he wasn’t of such rank, but no one minded him joining them for a while. Greasy fingers, boisterous laughter, and general joy was the theme of the evening. Even the normally perfect and ladylike etiquette of Queen Rachel and Lady Trella was breached.

The Queen of Seaward had a gravy stain on her bosom the size of an apple, and Lady Trella laughed so hard that she snorted wine out of her nose when Master Oarly recounted the tale of Sir Hyden Hawk, the squat weed, and the cinder pepper.

After that, Mikahl told the tale of Lord Gregory, and his encounter with squat weed after being poisoned by Pael’s imp.

Before long, it seemed as if a bunch of barbarians and bar wenches had decided to play dress up in a tavern. Uproarious tales were told, and more than a little frolicking took place amongst the lovers. Even General Spyra’s mood seemed to be on the upside of things. But then a young soldier came bursting into the room, all breathless and brimming with news. The room fell silent as everybody took him in.

“My lords, and ladies,” he said mostly to the High King. “There is something out here I think you should see.” The young man looked worried and confused, but not afraid. “The message said that it should be presented to the High King personally.”

Mikahl, feeling more than a little concerned now, stood and gave his wife a kiss on the forehead before making his way around the table to see what the boy was talking about. The others, at least the ones who were sober enough to follow, were right behind him.