The Children of Zegandaria - Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (world best books to read txt) 📗

was no doubt that the hadal had seen something else, but Arthusson would never know about it. What a pity!

Hadalas simply disappeared forever, but they were always needed by those who did not wish to get their hands dirty directly with some important business. They were like the cannon fodder of Hell.

Higher up in the hierarchy came the demons who commanded legions, and they usually bore various titles of nobility - kings, marquises, Dutchess, and so on.

On the top rung were the demons who were closest to Satan.

VALAK

"Conjecture always leads to war, death and doom for the conjecturer."

Unknown author

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: VALAK

 

The demon Valak[22] had thirty legions under his sway, and was at the heart of the whole plot he was hatching against Arthur to oust him from the throne of hell. Not that he couldn't use the forces of Hell's army, but it wouldn't be the same. How much more tempting was it to use the cowering demon elder Agares for his infernal plans. And the young novice was just another link in the complicated game of cat and mouse.

Valak was very cunning and sneaky, and he knew that many other demons much more powerful than he were also expressing similar ambitions, so he had to tread especially carefully or his head would explode, like that hadal he had killed a moment ago.

- "A ghoul more or less is irrelevant! Hell has long since overflowed and will soon overflow onto Zegandaria! There will be one last war! Much more violent than the war for Au Kaktir!," he thought.

If Belial, Agares, Abaddon or Azazel had heard him, they would have frozen in place, never mind that they commanded a similar number of legions to his.

- I wouldn't leave everything in the hands of Agares or Marbas, never mind that they stood extremely high in the hierarchy. The boy has to deal with Kazuk Mon, who has prevented us from acting freely for so many years. This is my one and last chance to seize the throne before that damn medallion gets misplaced.

Valak knew something extremely frightening. No one in Hell's hierarchy, regardless of position, was immune from death.

He wasn't worried about some other demon reading his mind. A special infernal substance called the emfusora surrounded the throne and prevented any intruder from gaining insight into the ruler's thoughts. He was prescient in the extreme, for a hundred thousand feet before he had been suspected of attempting to usurp power. Now they would not forgive him a second like it.

Young Zontul seemed to be going to finish the old man off. And Zorin's soul would come to me sooner or later. It's only a matter of time before I get both.

The medallion was an ancient artifact known as the Medallion of a Thousand Wishes, and it was the most powerful artifact ever, as it had many different demon souls woven into it, such as those of Belial, Azazel, Belfegor, Belfons, and many other significant demons. Whoever wore it around their neck could defeat almost any demon, and whoever bound their soul to the medallion could even shake Hell itself.

Valak distrusted his minions and knew that they sought only a moment of momentary weakness to liquidate him without a drop of mercy. They obeyed him because of the laws of Hell, because they feared for their own lives.

Valak was tall and strong, but he knew that state of mind also meant a great deal - in other words, each demon inhabited a particular realm and dominated there. Outside of it, his power diminished greatly.

Valak could have rallied his legions in one last bloody battle, but he was in no hurry to make that fatal mistake. It would make too much noise and attract too many curious looks.

He decided to do something extremely sneaky - trick the crazy old demon with his mechanical crocodile.

Valak clapped his hands. Agares appeared at the hour, and the rabid animal was gaping like a disconnected one.

- "Dear Agares," Valak began quite unintentionally. "I hope the boy has absorbed your great wisdom and will listen to you in the future."

- "So it seems," called Agares, "but this is a strange business. Too strange. The boy asked for nothing in return, which astonished me. He could have had anything, but he asked for absolutely nothing."

Valak pondered. Maybe he wasn't so fucked up yet in general and had a chance to survive at least a few more millennia before he finally, got sick of ruling this hellhole.

- "You know we demons don't die," he muttered.

- "That's not entirely true," Agares smiled, knowing that an archdemon like him was even more aware of that. "The boy could be extremely dangerous if he learned to wield the power at his disposal."

Valak bit his lip. It meant there were some kinks in his plan. As far as Agares was concerned, and she fully believed him, for he himself knew of his hadal's offshoot. Agares naturally had to be kept completely in the dark about such antics.

- "Well, did he go back to the archivist?," the demon asked him very slowly.

- "Don't worry, everything went more than smoothly," Agares addressed him with extreme politeness, but the scowl on his face made it look grotesque.

- "All right," Valak whispered softly.

- "If nothing else," Agares muttered.

- "Go on, go on, you're free," Valak hurried to send him away.

The emfusora should have hidden his secret intentions, but Agares' eyes were still cunning. The demon was strong enough to deal with many other demons inferior to him, but he would never rebel against his master as long as he had his life.

The subtle neuromatter, was so beautiful and ephemeral that an untrained eye would not have noticed it. It looked like a giant veil.

- "Zorin could have been killed much earlier! Gordon Elmbaum and his protégé Chris Zonretius screwed everything up because they measured everything by human standards. In Hell we have very different and different standards," his demonic grin stretched. "But since Zorin is dead that's another huge plus for me."

Agares had stood in a corner, away from his master's eyes. He wanted to break through the protective emfusor, but that was far from easy. To him, Valak remained an enigma, an impenetrable wall.

- "We made a big mistake when they got to the border of the two worlds," he growled. "They never realised they were at the very gates of the Beyond. They thought of some alternate universes and so on. They ignored the fact that it wasn't Gordon and the Myrian race that had brought him to power, but much higher and more terrible forces. He was cunning to work with them, but they would never have taken his orders without our support. And Princess Meeru simply wanted survival for herself at this point."

- "Zorin was the culprit who had discovered the secret of the locket bequeathed to him by his own mother, Lilith[23]. Through it he could summon powers far more powerful than mine, but he never wished to do so. But why does Lilith have a mortal son?," the demon puzzled over the nature of this enormous secret.

- "Except," he groaned, "for the human re-transplantation of memories to have imprinted a piece of her own soul in his brain. But this was madness. We demons have never been like humans, Erzonians, Meeranians, or even machines like androids."

- "Wait a minute," he slapped his enormous furry forehead in anguish, "and if that was the purpose for creating the race of guarron, who, though seemingly not all that advanced, possessed powerful spiritual and healing powers. They could have been the human race's attempt to infiltrate our world. Things got out of hand back with the goddess Marak Tulba and Gimlin Orn and that damned battle. But then again, everything seems to be stitched together with white threads. Too many accidents and blunders."

Then Agares stepped out from his cover and approached.

- "Unless we have a traitor, Your Grace," the old man ventured to say.

If it were another lesser demon, Valak would have killed him instantly, but not a demon of his rank.

- "How did you read my mind?," he growled.

- "Honestly, I didn't read yours, I read the boy's," Agares laughed. Valak was speechless. "Emborian Zontul is the son of Zorin. He had never seen him, though, or the amulet would have passed into his own hands."

- "Impossible," Valak shouted.

- And yet entirely true. Humans made Zone Nine to create a race powerful enough to bond with us. The guarrons were created strong and brutal, but something went wrong - some of them retained their humanity.

Valak had nothing to say.

- "And you knew all this before I even sent you," it moaned.

- "That and more," Agares hissed softly. "I am the demon of friendships, my lord. And contacts get you everywhere."

- "Then it appears that Zorin is one of us," the dark lord spat out the pebble.

- "Not exactly, he's just been experimented on in Area Nine," Agares replied calmly. "He'd have figured it out sooner or later, but that's how he lived for sixty-seven years with that damga in his genes. He possessed both a re-transplanted part of Lilith's consciousness and some part of the guarron genome, but he was never conscious of it."

- "Then it appears that he was the humans' secret experiment," the demon hissed. "They weren't fighting over fuel and resources, but over who would hold absolute power over everyone and everything."

- "Exactly," laughed Agares. Their eyes met.

- "Then our work only begins now," he spoke quite seriously. "Shall we tell that to the rest of the infernal lords then?' he said thoughtfully."

- "Not yet. 'Let's touch the archivist first, then we'll rip the threat to the root," Agares said carefully.

The two fearsome and ancient demons clasped their paws together. The deal was done.

BY THE SACRIFICIAL ROCK

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: BY THE SACRIFICIAL ROCK

 

Zontul looked perfectly normal. Nothing cast even a shadow of suspicion on him.

- "I have returned, Master," it said humbly.

Kazuk Mon did not ask him where he had been, but the novice seemed to read his mind.

- "I was paying my last respects to the god Arthusson," it said.

- "Last homage to what," the old man puzzled. "A last tribute?," he was slightly confused.

With a lightning movement the novice clutched him by the goose. His seemingly weak hands clung to the old man's neck. Quickly he poured out the Hermonad’sic venom down his throat. In a few seconds the old man felt his heart beating faster, and someone seemed to have caught