Chaos Lives in Everything - 34. Chapter 34

Pyrius stood on the seventy-fifth floor of Atheyx looking out at the gritty rain soaked streets of the city. He smiled and thought, Soon the world will belong to the fae again as it used to so long ago, as it was always meant to. Soon the pestilence that is the human race will be no longer.

He could only imagine what the world would be like without the presence of the human race. Though humans were their genetic cousins it was impossible to take claim in their genetic conception. They were parasitic organisms, procreating too fast for the eye to see. Even right now a thousand human babies were being born just so they could tear up the world.

The elevator doors opened and Bajork, the head of Roc City’s branch of the Orc Mafia, stepped out, flanked by his right hand man Yorjk. They both wore suits that had been made to fix their massive bulk.

“Did you bring me the shipment that I asked for?” Pyrius asked.

“Of course,” Bajork said with a nod of his enormous green head. Unlike most orcs he was surprisingly eloquent. He didn’t just speak with grunts and growls. Pyrius had to respect him for that. “They are being put in the hands of your security team as we speak.”

“Excellent. Then I have something to give you.”

Pyrius walked over to the large safe behind his desk and put in the combination. Inside was a large black briefcase. It was heavy from all of the cash inside. He handed the hefty suitcase to the leader of the Orc Mafia. “Six million dollars in cash just as we agreed. Feel free to count it if you want.”

“You have always been true to your word,” Bajork said gruffly. “You are a good business man.”

“In this line of work good business is everything. You should stick around for the meeting. We are having a special guest tonight.”

“I have my own business that must be attended to.”

The fury nodded. “Well three nights from now we will be celebrating for the world will be remade in our image.”

“Let us hope so.”

The fury watched the two orcs step back into the elevator. He glanced at his watch. There was just enough time before the meeting started to have a glass of wine or two. He went over to the bar and grabbed an expensive bottle of wine and filled a wine glass half way up. He sunk into a leather armchair and smacked his lips appreciably. The wine was nice and cold. The good stuff. Good wine was never cheap.

A half an hour the board members of Aethyx sat around the table. Pyrius sat at one end of the table and their employer sat at the other end of the table. Samhein stood up and held his wine glass up towards the ceiling. His dark red eyes were glowing like red rubies. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am with what your company have accomplished. You have been very instrumental in my plans. Without your involvement and assistance I would not be able to pull this coup off. The process is almost complete. In the name of Paladin we will have our victory, I promise you. Paladin’s dream will be realized.”

“What of Skold?” Cecily asked. She was the only woman fury in the group and she had earned her place well in their ranks. Or so Pyrius had thought up until this point. She was always asking questions.

For several seconds Samhein just looked at Cecily in cold silence. And then he asked, “What of him?”

She blushed, perhaps realizing her own mistake. “Forgive me, I mean nothing by it. I just mean that he’s been causing a lot of problems lately. I’m sure we can all agree on that fact.”

“Yes, he has been quite a nuisance as of late,” Samhein admitted. “I’m afraid that is why my accomplice is not able to join us to day. Bane sacraficed himself for his cause. Were he here I’m sure that he would show you much gratitude for the time and energy that you have put into this. Still, the process will go on. Skold is too late. We’ve won.”

Clearing his throat, Pyrius rose and the others rose with them. Human faces that were really only masks smiled, their eyes twinkling. The other furies were just as happy as he was; their dreams were about to be realized. They held up their wineglasses to their employer. “It has been an honor,” Pyrius said. “Your cause of making the world as it was meant to be made is awe inspiring. So it us that should be thanking you and not the other way around. Lal hlai Paladin!”

“Lal hlai Paladin!”

The room was filled with murmers of agreement and the tinkling of glasses bumping into each other. Everyone raised their glasses to their lips and took a sip from their glasses.

Pyrius smiled, feeling true happiness for the first time in centuries.

At half past midnight the furies left, leaving Pyrius and Samhein alone. They lounged around in their chairs, drinking glass after glass of wine. Both of them were more than a little more than intoxicated.

“That Cecily has quite the mouth on her,” Samhein said, his voice slurred. He allowed Pyrius to pour him another glass of wine.

“That she does,” Pyrius agreed amiably. “But you cannot blame her for asking the very question that we are all wanting to know.”

Samhein snorted, waving a hand. “Skold is nothing more than a wild dog. His mind is riddled with rabies. And just like any animal that cannot be trained or trusted, he needs to be put down for his own good. He is but a lost soul grasping desperately for a cause.”

“That may be so but that doesn’t make him any less of a worthy adversary. Was it not Skold that cut the head from your lover’s shoulders?”

Samhein glared angrily at him. “How dare you be so adacious to speak of Paladin like that…”

Pyrius raised his hands in surrender. “I don’t mean to insult Paladin’s memory or disrespect you. But that is just the beginning of the point that I am trying to make. He single handedly defeated the troll that you let into the city and what is more, defeated Bane.”

“Bane cannot be defeated. He will be back.”

Pyrius leaned forward in his chair. “It does not matter. We both know that Skold is insane and he won’t stop until he gets to you. He will kill you.”

“It is a possibility,” Samhein said.

“And you’re willing to sacrafice your life for this?”

“I am.” Samhein set his glass on the counter. Looking down at his fingernails, his eyes grew distant. “Did I ever tell you that Paladin and I were Vervolechent?”

Pyrius gaped in shock. “No you do not.”

“Yes. Our destinies were intwined as were our hearts. He was everything to me. And Skold left me nothing but his head. When the final battle was over and Paladin’s army were left dead in the snow I held Paladin’s head in my hand and wept. It was the first and the last time that I can remember ever shedding tears. I felt so broken. Afterwards I just knew what I had to do and a sort of numbness. I still feel that numbness but I also feel a certainty of what I have to do. I refuse to let Paladin’s death mean nothing.” He looked up, his eyes smoldering. “But I swear, even if I end up going to the realm of the Frrey Mann when this is all said and done I will have Skold’s head.”

In Paris a meeting of a different sort was taking place.

King Yaldon watched from his bed as Maeglin rose from his bowing position with appraisal. Maeglin was a long celebrated veteran and one of the few survivors who had made it back from the defeat of Kane’s command.

“It is good to stand before you, my king,” Maeglin said. He was tall and broad shouldered. His braided shoulder length hair hung down to his shoulders.

“As it is to see you my dear Maeglin,” the whithered king of the fae replied. “For far too long have I laid in the dark of this room marinating in my old misery while the world crumbles around me. It is no wonder that they now call me the Black King.”

“No my lord, you are a good king.” Maeglin took a step closer to the bed.

Yaldon raised a blackened hand. “Be careful. Do not step any closer. I do not want to infect you with this blight. You have already taken enough of a risk by coming in here.”

“For you I would do anything.”

“Good, then. Because I have a rather difficult task for you and I can’t think of anyone who would be more qualified.”

“Of course.”

“Have you seen all of the chaos that has been going on in Roc City?”

“Absolutely. How could anyone miss it?”

“My point exactly.” King Yaldon looked down at his hands. They had a rotten, mummified look to them. He could no longer remember a time when his skin had not been black, when he had been anything other than his shadow self. “It is time to show the fae that I am still sitting in the throne and that I still decide what will become of our fate. For it isn’t until the day I die that my reign will end. I want you go to Roc City and arrest him. I sent his sister to kill him and instead she joined his cause. Perhaps that was a foolish mistake on my part. Bring him back here to stand before the elders and await trial.”

“But my lord, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” Maeglin said.

“Do not argue with me!” King Yaldon shrieked. “Do you wish to join Skold and his cunt of a sister in exile?”

Maeglin nodded. “It will be done my lord. I will leave for Roc City right at this moment.” And with that he left the king of fae alone to sit in the darkness and silence.

Yaldon was breathing heavily, exhausted. He didn’t understand what had caused him to burst out like that. With each day it seemed, he was becoming less in control of his emotions, slipping deeper and deeper into insanity. His ears rang, his head ached. He wanted to roll over and close his eyes and drift away.

But he couldn’t go to sleep. Because has his ruined body lay in bed, covered in blankets, he could feel eyes watching him. Shapes loomed around his bed, human shaped. He knew who they were. They were the spirits of the people who’d been claimed by the Black Death. By Paladin’s plague. They whispered to him, taunting him.

“Black king...”

“Broken king...”

“It is only a matter of time.”

“Soon you will be where we are, in the underworld. It’s not made of fire like they say it is. It is cold and dark there. We are so cold...”

“Stop,” he croaked weakly. He covered his ears with his hands and clenched his eyes shut. He couldn’t stand to hear their dead, whispery voices. His blood pulsed through his brain and the only thing he could hear was the pounding of his own head. He didn’t know how long it was before he gained the courage to uncover his ears.

The spirits were gone.

The room was silent again

A fact scratched slyly at the back door of his mind, a fact that slowly grew into certainty. The spirits weren’t really there, he thought as he drifted towards sleep. They were just another hallucination created by the plague. Is there anything left of my sanity or am I just a raving, dying king?

And then he fell asleep and dreamed of standing in the warmth of the sun.