The Newt and Demon

5.63 - Pass the Pie!

After Salire returned to the lab, they were prepared to start the brewing process. All third tier potions needed some time to brew within a flask. She helped set up the large glass flasks on the table and performed mass reactions for their potions. Theo was the one who needed to drop the catalyst into each flask, otherwise an explosive disaster would strike the lab. After the reactions were complete, it was only a matter of waiting.

“I’m off to Tero’gal,” Theo said, patting Salire on the back. “We did good today.”

“I think so!” Salire said, holding up her notebook. I’d be shocked if these were Good Grade, and not Great or Excellent.”

“Hooray,” Sarisa put in, completely flat.

Theo let himself fall through the veil between the realms. He passed over the Bridge, not wanting to disrespect Uz’Xulven anymore than he already had. But something tugged at him, drawing him in a different direction. He tried to force his willpower against whatever pulled him, but couldn’t overpower it. The alchemist swallowed hard as he realized the one person who could do that. A moment later, his feet hit the rolling fields of Khahak. He stood outside of the Arbiter’s Citadel, which rose into the clouds above. A stream of people, who were mostly Khahari, walked along the road.

In a snap, Theo was standing in a room. Polished marble was on every surface with a massive wooden table sitting before a window that spanned twenty feet into the air. While it didn’t need the extra light, the room was lit by magical lanterns on the walls. Khahar stood, staring out of the window.

“How is Zaul?” he asked, not bothering to turn around. “I haven’t visited Und in a while.”

“He’s good,” Theo said, sauntering around the table. If Khahar was pissed, it wouldn’t work to throw himself on the ground and beg for forgiveness. That’s not what Yuri liked about people. “Gave me this fancy core so you can’t spy on me.”

“I can still spy on you,” Khahar said, looking over his shoulder and smiling. “Just not as well.”

“That’s a smart position to hold, Theo.”

“Is Zaul trying to use me?”

“No, he’s too insane for that. He saw something in you he liked, so he gave you the core you needed. I allowed him to break the rules to make it, so I know what it does.”

Theo sighed, falling into Khahar’s chair. It wasn’t comfortable. At all. “Does it ever get boring? Knowing everything and being all-powerful?”

“No, because I’m not as strong as you think. I’m uniting the heavens because there are outside forces pressing in. That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

“The Bara’thier?”

“No. I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but the thing forcing King Hanan to attack is a vestige. You remember the Harbinger, right?”

“How could I forget?”

“That entity is a piece of another Harbinger. They’re an entire race—if you could call them that—which create universes. The Harbinger brought us here, but the other guy had already messed this place up. He wanted us to fix it, but we couldn’t stop fighting. For sixty-thousand years we fought. I spent fifty-thousand of those years preparing for now. And here we are.”

So Khahar was feeling wistful about his time meditation for a thousand years at a time. He had gathered enough power to overthrow the status quo and hoisted himself on them like a yoke. Theo knew they needed it. The gods had segmented themselves into pantheons before retreating to their comfortable corners. They waged wars that lasted thousands of years on the mortal realm, and hundreds of thousands in the heavens.

“So the thing pushing Hanan forward is… what? An echo?”

“Something like that.”

“And I can kill it?”

“Maybe. But Fenian can. He possesses the Throne of the Herald. The single being meant to keep the mortal world safe. He has the authority to smite anything that goes against the Monitor System’s rules.”

“So this guy creates the system and this universe, then what? He died and left part of himself behind?”

“Exactly. God, Theo. This is complicated, alright? Something happened on Earth well before the Harbinger arrived. The other guy tried to transmigrate the planet but failed. Of all things, he was stopped by a human. It gets worse, though. That human’s soul is in the queue.”

“The what? Why are you being so straightforward—this isn’t like you.”

“I’m laying the groundwork for when you take your throne. The creature the harbinger killed took souls from our world and put them in a queue. They get released on a schedule that he determined before this place was even made. You were the second-newest soul to get released.”

“Back it up. An Earthling came after I was? Where is he? Or she.”

Khahar smiled that warm smile. “I have that under control.”

“This is great information. I really appreciate you finally pulling me in, but why now? Yeah, I’m supposed to take the Throne of the Dreamwalker. Because you need someone to go through the heavens and fix broken stuff. Blah blah. So on. But why now?”

Khahar paused for a long time. He gazed out the window as his thoughts gathered. “Can I admit I’m afraid you won’t survive?”

“I’m afraid Broken Tusk won’t survive daily, dude. If you follow your own rules, we’re just waiting for Fenian to save our butts. Again.”

“I suppose we can only pray he is fast enough, then. Perhaps I should talk to the gods that control the wind and the seas some more. They weren’t receptive the last time.”

“Good idea. And maybe we should have more meetings like this. We can loop every current and future throne-holder in on it.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“That’s not a bad idea. We could meet in Tero’gal. Once Fenian gets back to Broken Tusk.”

That was the Yuri that Theo remembered from Earth. He was always finding ways out of tight spots, and he never did it alone. Unlike most spies, he always had support. The Arbiter of the heavens was looking for friends, despite his new nature of going solo.

“Makes me wonder how many thrones there are. And why they exist.”

“Four. They’re safeguards.”

“Cool. So what’s up with the tower? Compensating for something?”

Khahar blinked slowly, then shook his head. “It was generated by the system. Want a tour?”

Theo shrugged. “Why not?”

Khahar’s realm was interesting to consider, even on a conceptual level. Most gods molded their realm after an ideal, but Khahak was different. This was a place that had been melded with the Throne of the Arbiter so completely that it looked nothing like something Yuri would go for. The landscape was green rolling hills with very few trees to see. Instead, there was a series of roads that connected cities, all with their own citadel. Unlike Tero’gal, this place was tiny. There were three major cities where all the local souls lived. Instead of leisure, the people here documented everything. New souls were not invited in freely.

The buildings were all made of the same glimmering stone. Those stones reminded Theo of the white marble in Broken Tusk with seams of silver running through them. Each stone seemed magically reactive, crackling as he drew closer. Folks in the area avoided his gaze, keeping their heads down as they rushed from place to place. Khahar needed to get out of his realm more often. He had been around his people—people he had effectively created over the years—for far too long.

“This place looks easy to defend,” Theo said, slapping a stone and nodding. “Sturdy, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is. I’ve been attacked a few times. A few of the lesser Prime Pantheon gods have declared war. They didn’t last long.”

“So, anyway. You wanna go grab some tea? Maybe cookies.”

“Absolutely,” Khahar said. “Why don’t you try interdicting us both?”

“Ah,” Theo said, allowing his willpower to spread out over them. When it rolled over Khahar, he felt a shiver of response that reverberated through his soul. But within that shiver was something he hadn’t expected. Recognition from Khahar, and his willingness to travel. “Here goes nothing.”

Theo interdicted himself and Khahar the way he always had. Reality parted and they fell through the veil, which was much harder to pierce than normal. The Arbiter was interested in how he had done his willpower training, chatting as they fell through nothing as though it were normal. He was impressed the technique was working, and urged the alchemist to find other such ways to expand his power. They landed in Tero’gal shortly after, and stood together as the various archways of gods sprung up.

While the gods assembled for their tea, Theo placed his brewing potions on his work table. He could ask the local spirits to build him a place to do alchemy, but had distanced himself more from that concept by the day. Instead, he would enjoy the company of the gods. Uz’Xulven, Drogramath, Spit, Benton, Khahar, and Glantheir came to today’s tea party, finding seats in the cottage and getting comfortable.

Uz’Xulven gave Theo a sly smile. “Arbiter, may I generate an image of the flagging city?”

Khahar smiled back and nodded. “Theo has people spying on it now. Acting as rangefinders.”

Uz’Xulven swept her hand through the air. Theo felt something rising in the back of his mind and recognized it as a request to use magic within his realm. He gave his permission and a shadowy image appeared above the table. Qavell rested in the waves once again, frozen in time.

“City fall down,” Spit said, laughing and shaking his head. “So stupid.”

“With no casualties. Yet,” Glantheir said.

“How long can they keep this up?” Theo said, leaning in to see the image. “I’ve been bombarding them for a day and a bit.”

“They will falter,” Drogramath said. “The effect you extracted from your work with potions is potent.”

Spit scoffed, throwing his tea cup across the room. Benton winced. “Strong potions? Weak city.”

“I have to agree with the ogre,” Khahar said with a sigh. “If the magical interference wasn’t so bad, they would have made better time. But the design of the hover engines is bad. The new King of Qavell could have taken his city high enough to avoid being spotted. Instead, they track the coast.”

The gods had a lot of opinions about the city, but they shared one sentiment. Qavell would fall. Sooner rather than later. Theo didn’t want it to fall too soon. Once the city was completely disabled, he wanted it. Once it was cleansed, he would propose an alliance with Hanan. The man couldn’t refuse. More than anyone, Hanan would want to join the Southlands Alliance to take the continent back. They would be a lasting alliance until the end. When Khahar cleansed the entire world in fire, Tresk, Fenian, and Theo would be there to save the day. As long as everything went according to plan.

Theo had to thank the wanderer for this. He didn’t care for Balkor, and suspected that few did, but this old piece of him was different. A more hopeful version of the Demon God of Necromancy existed in an age lost to time. Preserved in a long-dead piece of himself, that spirit had found purchase in a vessel. The necromantic energy was waning and the alchemist looked to the west for more allies. Not the elves in Tarantham, but the lost part of Balkor standing in the ruins of Vesta. He was on the path to redemption.

“So, is that wizard still on the moon?” Uz’Xulven asked, giving Theo a look. “Someone should go get him.”

“Kill him,” Drogramath said. “He isn’t worth the effort, Theo.”

“Save him, of course,” Glantheir said with a weak shrug.

“Oh, who cares? Pass the pie!” Spit shouted.

Theo looked to Khahar for advice, but the Arbiter shrugged a response, not willing to make eye-contact. Uharis might be a useful person, but there was too much bad blood.

Conversation with the gods went on for some time. The potions Theo had brewed shouldn’t take much longer to settle down. Most only needed an hour for the reaction to settle, but it wasn’t an hour he wanted to wait for in the mortal realm. The alchemist left the company of the gods, leaving them to their snacks and tea. Rollerblades had gone out of fashion again, but the spirits had modified the cobblestone roads to be smoother. They had created a cement-like putty that sat between the cracks, allowing them to glide over it effortlessly.

Theo toured the village, meeting up with Belgar. The dronon spirit had gained his new form completely by now, and always carried a smile on his face. The alchemist passed him the letter Zarali had written and didn’t mention her lack of participation in interdiction events to Tero’gal. Piercing the veil was bad enough for most people, but the Bridge and the void made almost everyone sick. The effects lingered for quite some time, resulting in headaches and vomiting upon arrival to the mortal world.

The village the spirits had created was more of a town by now. It spanned from the central area, radiating outward in a circular shape. There were mainly homes within the area, but a few artisan workshops had sprung up. Theo wasn’t surprised to learn there was a surface mining operation somewhere distant, as well as logging efforts, food production, and so on. But those spirits in his realm hadn’t developed cores, although he was certain they would do so one day. The spirits performed everything without cores and without magic.

It was weird.

In the face of such a lacking society, things had flourished. Tero’gal enjoyed a rare status, even among the lesser realms, of being untouchable. If another realm were to declare war, they would need approval from the Arbiter. Unless Khahar was pulling some sick joke, that would never happen. The spirits were free to flourish, and everyone got along. It wasn’t a surprise, though. If one spirit didn’t like another, they had a landmass the size of North America to move around. Belgar explained as they watched a half-formed spirit pound metal on an anvil.

“We had a few souls splinter off. I don’t think grudges were established, but a few people weren’t getting along,” Belgar said, wincing as the hammer slammed against the anvil. The sound reverberated, the hammer ringing. “Everyone decided it was best to spread out if you weren’t having a good time. Maybe the happy feelings will fade one day, but I don’t know when.”

“Raw souls are different from people,” Theo said, stepping away from the smith’s workshop. “They’re more… basic. No offense.”

“No, you’re right. That might be a mechanism of your realm, though. We can see reflections of your thoughts, sometimes. You and Tresk.”

“Oh?”

Belgar nodded, leaning against the workshop’s walls. “I can’t wait to have my sister here. For good.”

Theo smiled. He couldn’t wait, either.