The Road to the Future - 3. Part Three:

Chapter Six: The Monster

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With his gift finished, and since Philip had admonished Jason to no longer travel to the palace because of the danger of assassination, Logan had the choice of either walking the miles of tunnels through the Labyrinth, or take the shortest route and fly. Having never used his wings, and having no wish to, Logan chose the former.

 

After hours of traveling through the maze of tunnels, Logan reached the mountain keep. He was then led deeper inside until, as far as he could tell, he was at the center. There, he waited in front of a large iron door while he listened to the metal clang of several heavy locks being removed. The room Logan entered was a well-decorated sitting room with heavy red carpets and carved wooden furniture, lit by several oil lamps. Talking in the room were Caleb and Kristen at one of the tables. Jason was standing, holding what looked like a glass of cider.

 

"Jason… Logan is here." Varrus grinned.

 

"Hello, Logan." Jason smiled nervously.

 

At first, Logan did not know why Jason seemed so nervous. Then he felt the tightness in his pants.

 

"I have a gift for you." Logan blushed, trying to cover his hard-on with his gift.

 

"You didn't have to."

 

"I know, but I wanted to make you something special. At least, I will feel better if you wear it," Logan said as he handed Jason the large heavy package.

 

The package was in the shape of a suitcase. In a depression in the fur-lined box was a breastplate of polished steel, etched with gold and decorated with a collar of silver feathered wings. When Jason turned it around to look in the back he found holes where the joints of his wings could fit through.

 

"Let me show you how to put it on." Logan grinned, proud of his workmanship, but also eager to feel Jason’s body with his hands as he helped him put on the armor.

 

"Alright." Jason grinned.

 

Logan unbuckled the back of the armor and opened it up like a pair of double doors. After Jason had put on the front, Logan closed the metal panels and latched the armor, Jason's wings still free to move.

 

"Very good, Logan." Varrus clapped, after Jason turned around a few time to show it off.

 

"Jason, you better not grow anymore." Caleb laughed, noticing how the armor was very form fitting.

 

"If he does, I will just make him a new one," Logan offered.

 

"What I want to know is, how you were able to make it with no measurements," Kristen asked.

 

"I did take measurements," Logan said as he tapped his head.

 

"Impressive." Kristen laughed.

 

"Do you like it?" Jason asked Caleb.

 

"It looks nice, but I bet Logan prefers to see you with it off," Caleb laughed.

 

"Hey!" Logan shouted. Yes, he had hoped to see Jason naked, but he did not want to seem like he was trying to buy Jason’s attention.

 

"It's fine, Logan… Jason is still dealing with Gideon’s death," Varrus apologized.

 

"I know… It is hard to lose someone so young.” Logan said with sympathy as he hugged Jason while he was in his armor

 

“I am a freak” Jason cried.

 

"No, you're not," Varrus insisted, not liking Jason’s self-pity, as it made it hard for him to see that it was Philip who really needed his help.

 

"How long has this been going on?" Logan asked.

 

"For several long trying days," Kristen sighed.

 

"And what happened?"

 

"The short of it is that Philip decided to do a little experiment. He wanted to see what would happen to a person already bonded to Jason if he gave him his anima. Gideon’s death was the end result," Varrus explained

 

"A monster," Jason repeated.

 

"If you mean a person who keeps on thinking everyone hates him regardless of what they say, then yes you are a monster." Kristen sighed again.

 

"So it was a learning experience… we know now not to mix the anima of a Demon and an Angel,” Logan said as if that was all that was important.

 

"Well, Philip tried to hide Gideon’s corpse, the wolves got to it and tore it up pretty badly. Philip did not even allow Jason to see Gideon to say goodbye,” Caleb explained.

 

“How is Philip?” Logan asked, not seeing him around.

 

“He is avoiding Jason as much as possible. He blames his own selfish lust for Gideon’s fall. Jason blaming himself is not helping matters, either, for it makes Philip feel worse,” Varrus explained.

 

“Anything I can do to help?”

 

“No… I know what needs to be done,” Varrus replied as he left the room.

 

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Deep down in the keep was the common room for Philip’s Demon Spawn. With their bodies not able to distinguish pleasure from pain, the room was decorated with chains. On the walls were shelves holding whips, paddles, and clubs spiked with short nails.

 

That was where Varrus found Philip, participating in another of his children’s orgies of food, sex, and erotic tortures. Finding Philip whipping Darius while the Field Marshal was chained to the wall, Varrus decided things needed to change.

 

“Philip,” Varrus said in a stern voice.

 

“What is it?” Philip lashed out as he continued to let the bull whip fly.

 

“You’ve been down here long enough. It is time you went back to Jason.”

 

“Why… so I can kill more of the people he loves?”

 

“Philip, you do need to go back to Jason to ask forgiveness for that, but not for the reason you think.”

 

“Why? It was my fault,” Philip grunted as he wiped away the sweat and blood from his chin.

 

“You need Jason’s forgiveness because it is the only way you will forgive yourself.”

 

“And how does that work?” Philip demanded. “It will still be my fault.

 

Varrus, now more frustrated with Philip than he was with Jason, tightened his fist and slammed it against Philip’s chin.

 

“Well, well, well… I did not know you were interested in our little games down here.” Philip snickered.

 

“I’m not… in fact they disgust me, but at least it got your attention.”

 

“Fine… tell me how Jason’s forgiving me will help me forgive myself.”

 

“Philip… can you not even remember that you are bonded to Jason. What Jason feels has a lot to do with how you feel.”

 

“If that is so then why has Jason not come down and forgiven me?”

 

“Because, you fool… he has never blamed you. He only blames himself… just like you.”

 

“Then how are we going to forgive each other if both of us are only blaming ourselves.”

 

“That is why I want you to take the first step. Go to Jason and tell him you forgive him,” Varrus explained.

 

“Why me?”

 

“Because you are the adult as far as Jason is concerned. He still takes your lead.”

 

“Alright… but this had better work,” Philip warned.

 

“Then you will do it?” Varrus said hopefully.

 

“Yes… on one condition.”

 

“And that is?”

 

“You need to finish Darius for me. I owe him thirty seven more lashes.”

 

“I am not one of your Demon Spawn.”

 

“I know… but giving Darius what he wants will drive him into a frenzy.” Philip laughed.

 

“You are setting me up for a rough night,” Varrus responded.

 

“If I am to have one, then you should as well. Goodnight.” Philip laughed as he left Varrus holding the whip, his mouth agape.

 

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Philip found Jason in bed with Logan’s arms wrapped around him. There was a frightened look in the young man’s eyes that Logan could not comfort. “Leave us,” Philip ordered in a tone that sent Logan immediately out of the room. Philip then took Logan’s place behind Jason. This time Jason let out a deep sigh and snuggled back against his lover.

 

“I hear your Saints have been taking care of you.”

 

“They try, but they are not you,” Jason admitted.

 

There was then a long silence before Philip had the courage to speak on what needed to be said. “Jason… about Gideon. I forgive you for what happened.”

 

“It was entirely my fault. It was I who wanted Gideon in bed with us.”

 

“I wanted it as well,” Philip admitted.

 

“I should have protected my friend.”

 

“As your lover, I should have done the same… more, I should not have tried to bond with him.”

 

“You did not know… It was not your fault,” Jason said simply, never having considered that it was.

 

After both had forgiven each other, a weight was lifted from both of them. They felt each other’s bodies relax and breathing soften. Seeing Jason’s shoulders drop from their tense position, Philip could not help but give them a playful bite.

 

Laughing, Jason turned around and planted a kiss on Philip’s nose.

 

“So that is how it is going to be!” Philip chuckled as he started tickling Jason’s sides.

 

Soon the two were rolling all over each other, until they could no longer hold back, and began their lovemaking in earnest. Afterwards, both went to sleep in each other’s arms, all the previous tension gone.

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Chapter Seven: The Lahorian Empire

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Harper was amazed at the wealth he saw before him. It seemed that nearly every domed roof of the capital of Lahore was leafed in gold, shining like a small sun. The streets of the city were white, made of large concrete blocks, free of weeds or the foul smell of horse droppings. In fact, not a single horse could be seen in the entire city of Purrsha. Instead, the people moved in small rickshaws pulled by men in short gray pants and straw hats.

 

Compared to the narrow streets of Jadoor, with its limited and decaying sewer system, Purrsha was a city that could truly call itself the capital of the world. Everyone seemed well dressed and well fed without a beggar in sight. Large crews of street sweepers were ever present, removing weeds and any litter that dared to blemish the perfection of the city.

 

With all the imposing structures that made up the capital, two were most impressive. The first, located in the center of the city, was surrounded by roads spreading out from it like the spokes of a wheel. It had the largest of all the gold domes. Hundreds, if not thousands, of fires burned around the rim of the dome, colors dancing along its surface. Under the dome was an octagonal building with five-story towers soaring at each corner.

 

Harper did not know much about Lahorian culture, but he was sure the building had to be the center of power for the empire. That, however, was not the building to which they were lead. Instead, they were taken to the second largest building in the city. It was an arena, eight stories high with benches that could sit tens of thousands. The walls seemed to be made primarily of arched windows, each one decorated by a marble statue of a man dressed for battle.

 

It was to the practice yards and barracks of the arena that Harper and the men were led, while Warren was taken aside and led away toward the road leading to the domed building.

 

As he watched their leader being taken away, Harper hoped that Warren would be able to gain their freedom for, if he could not, the sea captain was sure that the Lahorians would soon use them for their own amusement.

 

In fact, the Lahorian stadium masters did not wait to see what deal Warren would be able to make with the emperor. As soon as the Inquisitors were lined up, the Lahorians started passing out wooden swords to Harper and the other Inquisitors. They were then forced to fight against gladiator veterans while the masters watched. Harper, sensing that it would be better to show off his skill rather than hide it, quickly overwhelmed the man sent to fight him. In return, he was handed a gold-dyed shirt as were most of the Inquisitors. Only the ones still weak from their crossing were given different shirts; some who had tried their best even though they were beaten by the gladiators were dressed in blue. The ones who were too weak to put up a fight were dressed in white shirts marked with a painted lion.

 

It was not hard for Harper to figure out what fate those men had in store for them… food for the beasts.

 

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The aged Emperor of Lahore sat on the gold Rising Sun Throne, enjoying the pageantry of the court. He was dressed in gold and white layered robes, his head topped by a tiered crown so encrusted with rubies it made his head appear on fire. The emperor looked as much in uniform as his bonze-armored, brown-cloaked, ceremonial guards as they marched up and down the cavernous granite hall as the two “guests” were escorted in.

 

The Emperor Korish, twenty third of his line, had been looking forward to this meeting since a cleric of Kaal had brought to his attention that a group of men from the “West” had been captured by one of his scouting parties in the Desert of Flames, near the Oasis of Tears.

 

Back during the time when his great-grandfather was just a child, an army from the west had made its way across the Desert of Flames, half dead from lack of water and the constant burning of the desert sun. Still, the invaders were able to break their way past the border guards and take over three small villages before the empire’s Horde overwhelmed them. The survivors were sent to the capital where they were fattened up, only to go back into battle again… this time for the entertainment of the emperor, fighting against each other in the arena.

 

For the twenty years that followed, they proved to be the finest warriors to ever fight in any of the arenas spread across the empire. Then, in a last attempt to escape, the westerners had revolted, taking control over a third of Purrsha. During the three weeks it took to summon the Horde, the collective force of hundreds of thousands of tribesmen, the city and palace guards fought a desperate battle to keep the westerners inside the city. When the Horde finally made its way to the capital, it found the city half destroyed from the westerners’ desperate attempts to burn their way through the tightly packed buildings. With tens of thousands of warriors flooding into the city, it was only a matter of days before the westerners tried to surrender. But, seeing the heart of their nation and religion half gutted, the tribesmen showed no mercy. By the end of the fighting, the grand avenues and streets were lined by the bodies of the westerners, hoisted high on long pikes that ran through their bodies. There they were left to rot until their bones fell to the streets below.

 

Since that day the arenas had lost their luster of blood, and faced a decline in popularity. That tragedy was mostly mourned by the nobles of the cities. The tribesmen, however, continued to train their men in the arenas even if they lacked an audience. They looked forward to the day when an Emperor of Lahore would finally order the Horde across the Desert of Flame, to wipe out the westerners once and for all.

 

Korish, raised on the old stories about the days when the arena had been the center of Purrsha’s life, had dreamed that one day the arena’s former glory would return. Now, with a group of three hundred westerners captured and brought to Purrsha, it appeared that dream would come true

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Chapter Eight: The Secrets of Kaal

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In the entire court, there was only one old translator who recognized the westerner's speech and could confirm that the captured men were not one of the oil tribes that wandered the desert.

 

“Your imperial majesty, may I present Gamesh, the court translator, and the leader of the westerners… a priest by the name of Warren," the court steward announced from the entrance to the throne room. Warren and Gamesh approached the throne where two pillows awaited them. The old translator sat on one pillow with his legs crossed while Warren sat on his knees.

 

Emperor Korish, Chieftain of the Thousand Tribes, Shepherd to the Million Flocks, and Mouth, Eyes and Ears of the god Kaal, looked down at the man called Warren with disappointment. The man seemed fit but did not look like a great warrior. Half of his face was a giant scar that covered one of his eyes. The man looked as if his journey across the Desert of Flames had taken its toll; his skin was dry and burned by the sun. Seeing nothing but a weak man, Korish was sure one of his own grandchildren would be strong enough to beat this … this “priest” in a fight.

 

"Why have you come here… is it to find out what happened to your grandfathers of old?" Emperor Korish snickered while he waited for his words to be translated and for the foreigner to reply.

 

When the man named Warren finally spoke, the old man Gamesh bowed to the emperor before giving the man's reply. "This man says he is a priest from the Kingdom of Jadoor… that he bears a warning."

 

"Threats!" Korish laughed. “The Lahorian people are conquerors who fear no one.” He did not add that this was true, except for the Dorrs, a people to the east who were closer akin to animals than men.

 

"No, your majesty not threats… at least not from him. What he told me is that two new gods have arisen in the west, throwing down the old goddess called the Mother. He says that these new gods are the threat to us here."

 

These words, instead of causing fear, triggered anger from Korish. The Lahorian people had become invaders, having been called by their god Kaal to destroy all foreign, and therefore false, religions.

 

"Ask this priest… did he not cross the great desert?" Korish told his translator.

 

Gamesh bowed to his ruler and then turned his attention to Warren, translating the emperor's words as precisely as the Jadoorian tongue allowed. After hearing Warren's words, Gamesh turned back to the emperor, bowed again and translated the foreigner's reply.

 

"Yes your majesty… he and his men did cross the Desert of Flames. He says thirty of his men died during a sandstorm."

 

"Ha ha ha… then he has seen the power of our god! No so-called gods from the east or west can dare oppose the will of Kaal."

 

Warren, seeing how the emperor was not taking his warning seriously, got up on his feet and began shouting. Almost at once, one of Korish's ever present guards knocked him down with a ceremonial spear.

 

"What did he say?” Korish demanded, debating whether to kill the translator for bringing such a dangerous man into his presence.

 

"He says you are making a mistake, your majesty…" Gamesh said nervously. Another of the guards now held a spear point to the back of his neck. "He says that these gods are different, that they walk the earth like the ones of old."

 

"Has he seen these gods?" Korish asked, not telling the translator that his life depended on Warren's response.

 

Gamesh trembled as he asked Warren the emperor's question. Warren, pinned to the floor by the guard's foot, turned his head to face Gamesh and replied with a long response.

 

Korish could see that the foreigner's response shook the old man more than the danger to his own life, as the color drained from the his sun-dried face. This time when Gamesh bowed he stayed bowed, giving Warren's answer from his bent position.

 

"Your majesty, what the priest has told me is hard to believe. He says that one of the two gods has skin that is whiter than limestone, eyes darker than the black pearls we harvest from the Sea of the Rising Sun, and white wings that allow him to fly. The other is said to be a demon, skin blacker than that of the Qopo, while his eyes shine with the light of diamonds. The priest says it also has a tail, horns, claws, and the fangs of a beast. He says, sir, that they are the Angel and Demon of legend.”

 

Knowing at once what his priests, the true masters of Lahore would demand he do, Korish stood on his feet. "Guards… you are to take the foreigner and his men and imprison them at the arena. You will then to go to the temple and take holy vows of silence. If you dare mention what was said here today you will be excommunicated and your souls served to the desert," Korish said, a dead tone in his voice.

 

The guards did not speak a word but went about fulfilling the commands of their emperor. When they and the foreigner were gone, Korish turned his attention on the translator, who still had a guard holding a spear tip to his back, the only loose end left.

 

"You are the only one of my people who can speak the foreigner's tongue?"

 

"Yes, your majesty."

 

"How did you come to know the foreigner's language?"

 

"My grandfather worked at the arena in the days when it held western slaves. He learned two of their languages. The common one was Centurion, the other Jadoorian."

 

"Why two languages… are they not one people?"

 

"In physical appearance they are, your majesty, but they came to have different lands… different kingdoms. Centurion is the language of the lands nearest us, across the great desert. Jadoorian is spoken further west."

 

"I see…" Korish smiled, convinced that the old man had told him the truth, therefore making the problem easy to handle.

 

Korish looked up to the guard who had his spear up against the back of Gamesh's neck and nodded. With a quick jerk the guard thrust the spear clear through the translator's throat, killing him instantly.

 

"Go join the others at the temple and tell the priest that I require that your tongues be removed.

 

The guard bowed and left, leaving Korish alone in the throne room. He stood up and walked to the private sanctuary that had been the original temple during the founding days of the empire. Only the emperor, as the eyes of Kaal, was allowed to enter and view what was drawn on the walls there.

 

Korish moved to the front of the sanctuary where he was amazed at how clear the mosaics remained. While he was the only man living who could view the mosaics on the ceiling and walls, the sanctuary was maintained by a small group of priests who agreed to have their eyes burned out just to have the privilege of caring for this most sacred of places.

 

Korish was bewildered that the blind priests always knew exactly when he entered the maze of tunnels and exactly where he was when inside it. During the first year of his reign, he had not been allowed to enter the sanctuary. The blind priests said it would not be safe for him to enter the holy sanctuary until they had studied him.

 

So, for a year the priests would take turns following the emperor around everywhere he went, including the bedrooms of his many wives. During that time the priests learned the sound of the emperor's step and the noise of his breath, even the smell of his body. To make sure nothing changed the sound he made, the priests required that the emperor walk in the sanctuary barefoot and only wearing a white smock.

 

Even to this day, Korish feared that the priests might mistake him for an intruder and kill him. He had never seen the priests carrying weapons, but that did not mean they didn't have any.

 

After ten minutes of walking the tunnels lit only by the torch he carried, Korish reached the Room of Beginnings. On the walls was a map of the world drawn in a rectangle. In the center were three continents made up of blackened earth, the lands of Mordel. On the edges of the map, across giant oceans, were lands that were green and blue with life. Fleeing to the western side of the map was a man with bright red hair leading his people, the Lahorians, to safety. That man was Kaal, chieftain of the Grau, the chosen of the Dominus, a living god. On the eastern side of the map were more people fleeing the desolated center. They were led by two beings… an Angel and a Demon just as Gamesh had described. They were also known as the Traitors.

 

It had never occurred to Korish, or any earlier king, that both groups would end up on the same landmass. That meant the map had to be incomplete… or else the two ends needed to be put together. The more he looked at the map the more he saw that both ends did fit together like a sphere shaped puzzle. This led to the first thought of heresy to enter Korish’s mind. For as long as the emperor could remember, the rectangular map had been the proof his forefathers had used to declare the world as flat. Any man who dared to say otherwise was judged a heretic and executed. Now it seemed that all those deaths had been pointless.

 

Korish wondered why his ancestors had not let their people know the truth. He could not have been the first emperor to realize that the world was round. The Emperor then thought of what he had just done… killed an old man and ordered his guards to cut out their tongues just so that the rest of his people would not learn that the "Traitors" were so close. Such knowledge would only trigger fear and unrest in his subjects.

 

Leaving the Room of Beginnings, disturbed with what he had discovered, Korish went down several more tunnels to the Room of Ends. There on the wall was the same map of the world, but this time it was the center that was green while the edges were black and littered with skulls. From the western side, the side where Kaal had taken his people, everyone was now fleeing into the open arms of the Dominus in the middle. On the eastern side, the side of Angel and Demon, everyone was also heading for the middle, but with sword, shield and ax in hand. They were met by the Dominus, greeting them with long sharp pikes.

 

"I see you have come back to see the truth of Kaal for yourself," the most senior of the blind priests said, as he hobbled over to Korish.

 

"Yes…" Korish nodded, even though the priest could not see him.

 

"The end times are coming. Best that you be prepared for them."

 

"Are there any more mosaics dealing with the end of the world?"

 

"No… only this room holds Kaal's prophesy and only your eyes and the eyes of the past emperors have seen it."

 

"A great war is what it shows."

 

"Is that all that the mural reveals? We have faced many wars before," the priest said unimpressed.

 

"Against the Demon and the Angel."

 

"Ahhh… against our eternal enemies. More evil, more corrupt, less human than even the Dorrs," the old priest nodded.

 

"Yes… for a long time I felt safe in knowing that they were supposed to be on the far side of the world, but now it seems they are a lot closer than my worst nightmares would have guessed."

 

"Evil is always closer than you suppose it to be. That is part of its nature."

 

Korish let out a deep breath, feeling the real weight of his crown for the first time in his life. "Yes… the evil now feels closer than ever."

 

"Then you must prepare the people for it," the priest told Korish as if he was giving him a holy command.

 

"It will take time, and I am so old. I no longer have the heart to send my men into battle."

 

"Then prepare one of your children for the task."

 

"But my eldest?" Korish said, confused.

 

"He is already approaching his fifties. If war is coming the people need a young strong emperor to lead them," the blind priest pointed out.

 

"You are right…. But which of my eighty grandchildren do I chose."

 

"Only the strongest, the wisest, and the one who would best understand the enemy."

 

"Many of my grandchildren are strong… few are wise however."

 

"Then work from a fresh foundation… I do believe your eldest son has just had a child… his first male child."

 

"Yes… I was beginning to worry that his seed could only produce daughters after so many years."

 

"Take this child under your wing and raise him so he will be able to lead the people in the final war."

 

"But my eldest is still the crown prince. How do I skip him in favor of his infant son?"

 

"Trust in god, your majesty. Pray to Kaal. I am sure he will hear your prayers and open the way for you," the priest offered.

 

"I will," Korish agreed, knowing full well what the priest was hinting at.

 

It had long been part of Lahore's hidden past that the priesthood would act to remove an emperor they did not feel was devout enough to fill the throne. Korish himself had actually been the third son of his father. The eldest had died of illness while the second passed away in a hunting accident. Korish had often wondered if those mishaps had not been triggered by some devout priest praying to Kaal. For the second time that day Korish felt his life was in danger.