The Newt and Demon

6.2 - Auspicious Company

Theo and Hanan stepped onto the lawns of Tero’gal. Fields of grass stretched into the distance, punctuated by tables piled with alchemy equipment, and a small freshwater spring. The king gawked as half-formed spirits walked by, waving at the master of the realm as they went. There was a piddling process of souls waiting for acceptance into the realm, which Theo rubber stamped.

Before Hanan could get his thoughts out as any more than sputtering disbelief, a series of arches rose in the field. Gods stepped out, laughing, jeering, or sending greetings to the lost king. They marched as one, heading straight for the cottage for tea. But one held back.

The Arbiter, Khahar, stood before King Hanan and smiled down at him, one hand on either of his shoulders. “Is he getting the crash-course, Theo?”

“I thought it was appropriate. He’s not just a duke, but a king.”

“Can’t say I approve. His father was Karasan.”

“I’m aware.”

Khahar moved off, leaving the shocked king to languish in the field. One last archway sprung up. A smiling elf, dressed in flowing blue robes, moved to bow to the king. Glantheir, the Elven God of Healing, leaned close and whispered something into the king’s ear. Glantheir must have known that Theo could hear anything within his realm, no matter how quietly spoken. But Hanan’s face lit up.

“Come,” Glantheir said. “We’ll be late for the tea.”

Sitting around a massive wooden table were all the gods that came for tea at the cottage. The room itself had been expanded several times, growing every time a new god wanted to join the occasional party. Benton, the Toora God of Winter and Death, made the best tea and sweets in all the heavens. Spit, Ogre Patron of Curing Things Most of the Time, came to smash the teacups. Uz’Xulven, Queen of the Bridge of Shadows, always came equipped with snide comments and a few jokes. Glantheir came with kind words, often bolstering everyone around him. Drogramath, the Potioneer, was Theo’s patron and often brooded like an emo kid.

There were many gods unrepresented at the table. Theo had an open invitation for them all, but there was still a division amongst the gods. Although things had settled down, that didn’t stop them from holding ancient grudges. Khahar was an odd one among the gods. He didn’t ascend to godhood to fit a godly purpose. He rose to power to control the gods, assuming the Throne of the Arbiter the moment he reached the heavenly plane. Instead of fighting his way up through the heavens, he employed a scheme to rise to the top and rewrite the rules himself. Theo thought it was going quite well, all things considered.

“Look how scared he is!” Spit shouted, slamming his fist on the table. Theo was certain the hit should have shattered the table. But no god could inflict damage while they were here. That was part of the rules.

“Be nice, Spit,” Uz’xulven said, folding her arms. “We’re nice to our guests, aren’t we?”

“Even mortal guests?” Drogramath said, bored more than anything.

“If someone could convince Parantheir to come, I guarantee we’ll have a good time,” Glantheir said.

Uz’Xulven blew raspberries. “Good luck with that!”

The jibes continued. Hanan leaned in, giving Theo a concerned look as he whispered. “Why are they so… normal?”

“The gods are just people. Everyone who holds celestial power was a mortal. Those are the rules.”

“You’re kidding…” Hanan trailed off.

“That’s the problem with the small people,” Spit said, throwing a teacup at the wall. When it shattered, Benton winced. “They’re brainwashed!”

“Is the Burning Eye here?” Hanan asked.

“Who wants to tell him?” Spit asked, laughing some more. “The eye is dead.”

Hanan swallowed hard. Theo watched as the king drew into himself, his face going expressionless. The gods prattled on about whatever bothered them or struck them as interesting. Khahar had to silence them a few times when they attempted to reveal information. The king was clearly upset about the eye being dead, but the thing Glantheir had whispered to him bolstered his spirits.

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After a few hours of tea and cookies, Theo brought Hanan out of the stuffy cottage. He teleported them somewhere more pleasant. The massive lake that the alchemist had constructed was now occupied by souls. A group of them had splintered from the main area, creating a village here. The pair watched for a long while as they fished the waters, stoking campfires on the shore to cook the fish.

“So, Karasan isn’t dead,” Theo said. “Don’t tell Fenian.”

“I won’t. No, he’s with Glantheir now. He won’t even be the same man, will he?”

“Glantheir will reform him. Sulvan used to be a paladin of the eye. An inquisitor, really.”

“I know. I mean, I knew him. From a distance, of course.”

“And you knew that the Burning Eye was hell-bent on dominating the Dronon of the world?” Theo asked, blowing out a breath. “Bad time to side with that kind of god.”

“I never sided with him,” Hanan snapped back. He composed himself, clearing his throat. “Don’t attribute malice to my actions. I was in the dark with what my father was doing.”

Theo gazed out to the lake. He remembered a few people back on Earth who were just going with the flow. A fish broke the surface of the water for a moment, sending ripples radiating outward. The alchemist was glad those people without conviction were long-gone. But people like John still lived. The man Glantheir used to be. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what was going on, but there was a conspiracy at the end. It could have been going on for some time, but people knew.

“I’m trying to live more like Glantheir these days,” Theo said. “Did you know he could take the Khahar’s position by force? He could rule the heavens and the mortal planes in a blink. But he doesn’t.”

“Planes? Mortal planes?” Hanan asked.

“You’ve got a lot to learn.”

Theo explained the structure of the universe, using bubbles as an example. Bubbles within bubbles within bubbles. The mortal plane wasn’t the biggest bubble. But even within the mortal plane, there were dream realms. The alchemist had learned that when a person went to sleep, they generated a small version of Tero’gal overtop them. That’s how the Dreamer could move from dream to dream. Khahar had used a similar technique to gain his power, although he generated a pseudo-realm overtop himself using raw power.

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But these things were important for the king to understand. Each world leader should understand these things as the days went on. When the year came to a close, most things would change. Unlike what happened on Earth, Theo wanted these people to be ready for the change.

“Can you visit other realms?” Hanan asked.

“With the permission of the other gods.”

“Could we visit the Realm of Healing?”

Theo shot Hanan a severe look. “I have worked with many lost souls. You don’t want to see your father yet. All that hate he was feeling will linger. He is an echo of the man you knew, not the real thing. That will take time.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Hanan said. “How big is this place?”

Theo smiled, sending them to the far western edge of the realm. Below was the sprawl of clouds and shapes of things happening in the real world. They saw Tresk in the clouds, fighting some monster in a dungeon. Tero’gal was roughly the size of North America. Roughly.

“Slightly larger than Tarantham.”

“Are other realms this large?”

“Most of them are bigger. Tero’gal is a Mortal Dreamrealm, which means… Well, I don’t really know what it means. This is the projection of my spirit bond. But it's also a living thing.”

After explaining more about the realms for a while, Theo and Hanan returned to the cottage. The gods were still hanging out, but Drogramath had a rare offer. He invited both of then to visit Grodul’harak, Drogramath’s realm.

“Uh, duh. Of course,” Theo said, elbowing Hanan in the ribs.

“Come,” Drogramath said, passing through his portal before Hanan could object. Theo followed closely after, dragging the king behind him.

Drogramath wasn’t kidding when he said his realm was confusing. Theo stepped foot on grass as he passed through the portal, but the sky above was weird. He gave his mind a moment to adjust and realized they were standing in a massive glass dome. Outside of that dome was another, hovering in an endless expanse of gray-white.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Hanan said.

“Yes. Most realms serve a purpose,” Drogramath said, staring up at his glass domes. “Mine is made to experiment. Each dome dedicates itself to something new.”

“This is trippy. How do you live here?”

“I’ve managed.”

Theo was surprised when another portal rose on the soft grass. He was even more surprised when Toru’aun, the Queen of Mystery stepped through. Both her flowing dress and hair were a prismatic color that shifted as she walked. When she saw Theo and Hanan standing there, she edged back toward her portal.

“Stay,” Drogramath said, nodding at the woman.

Toru’aun cleared her throat nervously. “I don’t care for mortals.”

“Neither do I,” Drogramath said. “Have you seen the new King of Qavell?”

“What’s left…”

“I never got to thank you,” Theo blurted out. “For the core.”

“She saw you use it,” Drogramath said. Theo found it strange that he was speaking for her. “Your usage was impressive. Combined with the elements of my reagents, that core will take you far.”

“I heard he’s using a Zaul core,” Toru’aun muttered.

“Slotting only demon cores would be foolish.”

Theo felt as though he was between two parents having a fight. Toru’aun never showed up for any invitations. The alchemist wasn’t even certain that she participated in demon politics, let alone the wider heavens.

“How many gods are left in the Demonic Pantheon?” Theo asked.

“Four,” Drogramath said. That one word weighed more than Theo had expected it to.

“Khahar wants us to be happy that only Zagmon died. Two were taken from the Prime Pantheon,” Toru’aun said, laughing without mirth. “I shudder to think of how many were purged from the lower realms.”

“It won’t be the last purge,” Theo said, rolling his shoulders. “I’m not sure what the heavens will look like soon.”

“How soon?” Drogramath asked. “I’m not done working on… a project.”

“The end of the mortal year, I think.”

“Ah. Plenty of time.”

Toru’aun glared at Theo for some time, then sighed. “I guess we never could have won the war against the higher pantheon, could we?”

“Of course not. They pushed us down from the start,” Drogramath said. He moved toward Toru’aun for only a moment but stopped himself. She never appeared in person. It would be too easy to see the relationship between them.

“Did you two know each other before your world was destroyed?” Theo asked.

“Yes,” Drogramath said.

“No,” Toru’aun said.

“Yeah, is there a rock I can crawl under around here?” Hanan asked, searching the area. He found a tree in the distance and hid behind it.

Theo changed the subject before he pushed them too far. “What did you want to show me in your realm, Drogramath?”

He shrugged, gesturing to the plants that grew in the area. “I’ve watched your work with reagent splicing. And your alchemy. I felt your pain when you understood alcohol distillation and wanted to give you encouragement to push forward.”

“Your potions are your most valuable asset,” Toru’aun said, spicing her normally vague words with some real encouragement. “All the tricks you’re learning along the way just reinforce your potion making. Don’t neglect it.”

“That was an excellent way to put it, Toru,” Drogramath said, inclining his head to the Queen of Mystery.

“Yes, well… if the mortals could leave, I would enjoy that greatly. Hard to keep up the essence of mystery when I have to talk.”

“Theo… would you mind?” Drogramath asked.

“Yeah, no problem. Thanks for the glimpse. I should bring the king back to the mortal realm before he melts.”

“Good idea.”

Theo collected Hanan and forced him through the cracks in reality. They bypassed Tero’gal, and used the Tero’gal Dreampassage ability to arrive back in Broken Tusk. Hanan drew heavy breaths, gasping for air and sweating. It was easy to forget that mortals couldn’t spend much time in the heavens. They started breaking apart, just like when the alchemist trespassed.

“Drink this,” Theo said, handing Hanan a Greater Stamina Potion.

“No, thank you,” Hanan said, bringing himself to his feet. “I’ve had enough of those potions for one lifetime. But now I feel like an brogling being squashed underfoot.”

“I thought you would appreciate the scale of what we’re dealing with in the alliance.”

“At least I didn’t soil myself,” Hanan said. “Tell me, Theo. Does the alliance have my best interests at heart?”

“Look around,” Theo said. “Ask any elf from House Wavecrest if things have gotten better. Take the train to Rivers or Gronro. Ask the people there.”

“I’m not sure I’m convinced.”

Theo leaned in, dusting the king off. “Then ask the field of the dead where Qavell once was. Ask if they would have rather been protected in the southlands or turned to walking corpses in the northlands.”

Hanan glared at Theo, but nodded. “Point taken, archduke.”

There was a fire somewhere in Hanan’s heart. Theo finally ignited it. Being under Karasan’s thumb for so long must have been tough, but now wasn’t the time to act like a privileged prince. He could grow a pair of brass ones or give up control of his city to another. It didn’t matter to the alchemist. But as the king locked eyes with him, he saw the one thing that man needed. A fire. Burning brighter than the Burning Eye could have ever hoped.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Hanan said, bowing. “I have to address my people.”

Theo watched as the king walked away. But the words of Drogramath and Toru’aun echoed in his mind. The road might have been long, but it was paved with all the same stuff. Alchemy would see him through this more than anything else. After days of working on the city, making sure it didn’t fall into the sea, it was finally time to get back to work. It was time to work with Salire to make some more awesome potions.