The War of All Wars Read online

  Zooming closer, just beyond the demons, there stood a ten-foot tall snake-man on the sandy beach facing Baltor’s way. It wore lime-green robes and a donned hood that fluttered in the wind, which revealed that it had a humanoid body, including its lime-green gloved hands that clasped together in front of its stomach, which hands carried no visible weapons. However, this creature’s head perfectly resembled the head of a green snake with two small holes for nostrils but no nose, a pair of sharp fangs that protruded down, as well the dripping venom, a forked black tongue that frequently darted out, and finally, a pair of black eyes.

  It was not even a second later that Baltor decided that it was best if he depart this boat and swim to an uninhabited part of the beach, instead of having a confrontation with that platoon. Therefore, he used telepathy as he ordered the driver: My command to you is that you say nothing about me to anyone ever. Understand?

  The driver nodded its skull up and down one time—without any further haste, Baltor quietly slid his way right back into the corpse-filled sea, and just as quiet, he swam around them and down the coastline.

  It took him a little more than an hour until he reached the next stretch of beach, located about a half-mile away from the first stretch, in which the boat was just now nearing the docks. For the moment, this stretch was uninhabited, and so he swam up to the beach, while continuously scouting his horizons for any other demons—for now, the coast was clear.

  As soon as he stood on solid ground, nearly a minute later, he bolted like a bat out of hell for the closest grouping of three volcanic rocks that jutted out of the sands, so that he could hide.

  Once safely hidden away behind one such large rock, he poked just his head out, gazing at the boat that had just docked. A dozen-or-so of the demons had already flown or climbed aboard, and were already eagerly assisting the passengers out of the boat by slapping them with the butts of their fiery swords, while cackling in a menacing fashion the whole time!

  Despite the fact that Baltor shook his head balefully a few times at these poor souls’ “warm welcome to hell,” he still turned around and bolted into the mountain pass. After all, there was no possible way he could rescue absolutely everybody, only his master.

  He moved at his top speed of twenty-five miles per hour between the jagged mountains and/or volcanos, ranging between five hundred feet to five thousand feet tall. One-third of the passes weren’t traversable due to the flowing rivers of lava or the patrolling demons who seemed to be everywhere.

  Lying at the end of the weaving valley he now traveled through, nearly two hours later, there stood a three-thousand-foot tall wall—constructed from onyx that possessed a mirror-like gleam! It was, in fact, the tallest wall Baltor had ever seen. From where he stood at the bottom of the valley, he could not tell any of the other dimensions about this wall.

  Curious about these exact dimensions, as well what lay on the other side, he began to hop from boulder to boulder until he stood at the top of the mountain to his right, which mountain stood five hundred feet taller than the wall.

  Once there fifteen seconds later, he dropped to the top rock in the prone position before looking out. This wall stood at one thousand feet thick, twenty-five miles in length and fifty miles long.

  Couple this incredible defense with the fact there was but one entrance on the far side, currently open, as well hundreds and hundreds of miles of surrounding mountains and volcanoes, he surmised that this city was impenetrable from anything but an aerial attack.

  Inside the city walls, which he observed at the same time, there dwelt tens of thousands of rectangular-shaped onyx buildings—each building a different height and size than any other.

  In the heart of the city, there stood a castle, also made of onyx. Dozens of claw towers appeared to be gripping and rupturing the very heavens—this castle was ten times the size of Baltor’s own main imperial palace back in Pavelus. Of course, it had a surrounding moat, filled with black liquid.

  Regarding the city’s population spread all about, there were millions of dark and shadowy inhabitants. Most were black-robed figures of all shapes and sizes up to a maximum height of twelve feet tall. Of course, there were hundreds of thousands of demons, and tens of thousands of those snake-men.

  In particular, he came to discover a brand-new type of grayish-colored monster—three of them—all walking down the road together. Though they were the size of elephants, they didn’t look or move like elephants at all, but resembled wolves that had incredibly large jaws filled with sharp, pointy teeth and no hair whatsoever on their equally incredible muscular bodies!

  Upon closer examination, all Baltor could think was, Wow…those are some ugly monsters, although powerful looking as hell! I’d really hate to have to fight even one of them.

  Just as he had completed his thought, his super-hearing began to detect the sounds of someone whispering something incomprehensible far below, and in the direction from whence he had come. Approximately two thousand, five hundred and fifty feet away!

  While his hands had already drawn out both swords, his feet glided at top speed down the boulders toward the whisperer, of whom he could only hear, but not see…yet.

  It took only two seconds for Baltor to reach the ground. Before that third second had ended, he had already halved the distance to his final destination, of which area he could clearly see now, but the whisperer was nowhere to be seen! His mind began to suspect that this person was either using ventriloquism, or most likely, invisibility.

  It was then that he began to observe that his entire body was now ever-so-slightly glowing blue and red colors in abstract patterns. Even worse, the colors continued to get brighter with each passing moment.

  The whisperer had one final word to whisper in his or her spell-casting—that was all the time Baltor needed, for in that same moment, he swung his swords around and stopped them once they were crossed, possessing the shape of an “x.”

  Just as the next second had commenced, Baltor noted his own aura had already multiplied by three, which brightness caused the surrounding landscape to lose most of its shadows.

  Therefore, he barked angrily, “I swear that if you don’t cancel your spell by the time I’m done speaking, I will slice your head off in the next second!”

  Exactly one second before he had finished speaking, the glowing did instantly stop, which caused the landscape all around to submerge back to its original dark and shadowy environment.

  Speaking at a normal tone of voice, yet still sounding hostile, Baltor stated, “Good. Now, who the hell are you?”

  Indicative by the sounds of her voice alone, a woman said with a great amount of fear, “I am Nemis…who…who are you?”

  “I’ll do the question asking around here,” was Baltor’s snappy reply. His next question was, “Why are you following me, Nemis, and what was that spell you cast on me?”

  After releasing a deep sigh, she answered, “I’ve been trailing you invisibly because I’ve never seen, nor heard, nor read in any book about anybody crawling out of any of the Abysmal Seas on their own. All I did to you just now was cast a simple ‘detect alignment’ spell. That’s all…but, how you see me now, I do not know as my ‘invisibility spell’ feels to still be in effect.”

  “It is still in effect,” Baltor replied. “But take it off so I can see you.”

  “Okay,” she answered. In the next moment she appeared, a small woman dressed in flowing black robes, standing at a height of five feet tall, and wearing a hood that enshrouded her entire face in darkened shadows.

  His eyes had also observed her painted red fingernails that had a tiny diamond stud glued to the middle of each nail on her left hand, which small fingers gripped a wooden staff bearing a quartz crystal shard imbedded into the top.

  His swords continued to keep tightly pressed against her throat as he asked, “How about removing the hood?”

  “Well in order to do that, I’m going to need you to first remove your swords from my neck,” she answered
truthfully.

  Because he sensed no immediate danger coming from her, he oh-so-slowly moved his swords out of the way, until they were by his sides in the ready position, ready to strike.

  Only after gently rubbing her throat with the fingers of her free hand and then looking at the bloodless fingertips, she proceeded to pull back the hood while stating nicely, “Thank you.”

  This woman was not just any woman, yet one of the most beautiful he had ever seen in his life, strongly enhanced not only by her piercing brown eyes, hair that was brown, silky, curly and untamed, yet the most striking quality were her very pointy ears.

  He asked, “You’re an elf?”

  “Yes, I am. From the Moonchild Tribe on the World of Endoria,” she answered seriously. “Well, that is, I belonged to them until they came to hear what type of magic I performed in The League of the Magi on the other side of the continent, and so my tribe banned me ‘an outcast.’”

  “What type of magic?”

  “Black magic.”

  After nodding once, Baltor said, “Not surprising. So do you work for any of the residents or lords or devils of this place?”

  “No,” she replied, just before she snapped her fingers with her right hand that caused her staff to disappear into oblivion.

  Though he wondered where her staff was, he asked the most-important question on his mind, “Why are you here?”

  A look of sadness unexpectedly crossed her face before she answered, “I am here to rescue my mother, of who is also involuntarily here in hell but on the Seventh Plane, although she never physically died…”

  Although he looked a bit shocked upon hearing—evident by his furled eyebrows and his open mouth—he said nothing.

  She sighed before saying, “To understand how she ended up here requires understanding a bit of my life, which will take quite a few minutes of your time. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure…we’re safe here, at least for now. Go ahead.”

  “I am five hundred and nineteen years old,” Nemis revealed, “yet we elves live about a millennium-and-a-half on average. A year before I was born, my father prematurely died in an epic battle that saved our world, so for most of my youth, it was just my mother and I who shared a house in the forest. It wasn’t until I reached the teenaged year of thirty, in which we elves become young adults at the age of fifty—that my mother revealed for the first time that she was a magic user of the White Robes, good alignment, and that she would begin training me in magic that very day.”

  She sucked in a deep breath through just her nose, before adding, “Four years and six days after my magical training had begun, it was upon a dark and stormy night that I heard someone knocking on the front door. Prior to the knocks, my mother was cooking up dinner in the kitchen, and I was lying in my bed doing my homework—my bedroom door was halfway open.

  “As I knew mother was busy, I decided to answer it, so I hopped out of bed and made my way across my bedroom. I had just arrived at my door, but as I scanned across the living room and toward the front door, I noticed that my mother was already there and in the process of turning the doorknob. For some reason that I still don’t know, I decide to crack my door shut until it was just a sliver that was just big enough for my left eye to see through.

  “When she opened the front door, not only were the frequent flashes of lightning and the pouring rain revealed outside, yet a man who stood on our unroofed porch. His attire consisted of wooly black robes, as well a silky black cape with an attached hood that was drawn back—silver, red, blue, white, black and gold patterns had been masterfully sewn throughout the hem.”

  Pointing her index finger into the air, she stated, “Thus was I able to clearly see his evil face—a face that possessed abnormally angular features, thin black eyebrows, and a braided goatee. His head, however, was shaven clean and shiny to the point you could shave off it.”

  After clearing her throat, she said, “Without hesitation, my mother gestured for this stranger to come inside, to which he did. He was completely unaware of my presence as he spun around to face my mother, who no longer looked happy. The back of his cape now faced my way, revealing a picture using all the same colored threads—a five-headed dragon. Still I was keen enough to notice that despite all the pouring rain outside, he was bone dry! Anyway, my mother clipped to the man, ‘So Magi-Second Class Mystras, what do you want?’

  ‘‘He sounded like a snobby aristocrat as he answered, ‘Good question, Ruling-Overseer Gylva’ste of the White Robes, and here’s your answer. I beg you please, my lady…sign the ‘new peace treaty’ proposed today for the League. Yes. It is true that your branch and mine have had some problems in the recent past, and I do sincerely apologize. Yet your signature is imperative in making the League about the magic and the peace once again, as we were for nearly seven centuries; that is, until three years ago when Magi 1st Class Ravenski lost his mind and tried to take everything and everybody over. Trust me that we of the Black Robes have stripped him of all rank and powers, only six months ago. Nowadays, Ravenski is nothing more than a street magician using sleight-of-hand tricks.’” Whenever she had recited Mystras’ words, she had tried to sound like a man, although with her semi-high pitched voice, she failed.

  Nemis shrugged before saying, “Although my mother tried her best to keep her anger restrained, it was clearly evident in more than one way. One of those ways was her voice as she replied right away, ‘I read your proposed peace treaty, and no, I will never sign something that you yourself created…there’s something about the way you worded that script that I just don’t like, or trust. Nor have I ever trusted you, for that matter.’

  “For a moment, a look of annoyance crossed the man’s face, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything. My mother added, ‘While I’m at it, I don’t know what kind of spell you put over the Head of the Order to make him order me to listen to what you had to say tonight. However, I do know that I refuse to sign away the rights of the White Robes, of whom I faithfully lead. Also, I feel quite confident that the Brown Robes will unite with us in this decision, as they are ‘great seers into the balance!’ So, sorry, no…please get out of my house as I have dinner to finish. Thank you.’

  Though she delivered a short pause in order to take a few deep breaths, Baltor said not a word—he was definitely enrapt in her tale.

  Perhaps five seconds later, she said, “After nodding his head twice, Mystras pulled out from the pocket of his robes a very large ruby with a strange rune upon it—the jewel was attached to a tri-linked necklace made of gold. While lightly swinging the amulet around his fingers, he asked my mother, ‘Have you ever seen my mother wearing this necklace before, Madame Gylva’ste? I want you to have it as a peace offering—it’s magically blessed.’”

  After taking another deep breath, Nemis said, “I saw my mother’s gaze focus for but a second on the beautiful ruby bouncing all around. In the next, she looked back over at the man and said, ‘No I haven’t seen your mother wearing it before, although I really like what she did for the League before she died of cancer last year—I mourned her passing. Additionally, I already know your necklace is not magical, or it would have begun glowing the second you pulled it out in my house, and no thank you…I cannot accept your gift.’

  “‘Oh, it’s more than just a gift,’ he said with raised eyebrow, just before he swung the chain around so that ruby—sharpened at the tips—ripped but a tiny scratch off my mother’s skin on her left arm. Though a scratch, the ever-increasing pain caused her to scream out in agony, all the while involuntarily clutching her arm and closing her eyes.

  “Therefore, she didn’t notice that a fiery portal bearing the runic-number ‘7’ inscribed on it popped up right behind her position—before I could scream and warn my mother, Mystras kicked her as hard as he could, and as she screamed, she flew through the portal!”

  While fighting back her tears, which inner-battle took nearly fifteen seconds to become successful, Nemis finally sniffled, “W
hile laughing like a crazed maniac, he confirmed exactly where he had sent her with the words, ‘Welcome to the Seventh Plane of Hell, Witch!’”

  Her face turned into a horrified expression, just before she added, “I never made a sound as I was in shock and frightened…he snapped his fingers and the portal disappeared. He snapped his fingers again, and he teleported away. I was left with the memory of that single second in time for years afterward when she passed through the nightmarish portal—hell with all its demons and devils and monsters! That’s why I remember every word of that night verbatim.”

  After sucking in a deep breath, she continued, “For many years to come, my auntie took care of me; unlike my mother, she certainly did not approve of magic whatsoever. So, in secret, I researched everything I could in the public libraries upon the subject of magic and hell…very little luck whatsoever. So it wasn’t until I turned forty that I made my way by horse to the League’s Headquarters, which was two thousand miles away from my aunt’s home on the other side of the continent.”

  She had to clear her throat twice, before she could continue on, “Once there, I immediately chose, and became apprenticed into the Dark Arts, as it appeared they were the only ones who had any information on the subject of hell. Of course I’ve seen the man who literally damned my mother many times over throughout the many years that passed, but he never knew or figured out who I was, as my mother had always kept me ‘a closely guarded secret,’ and just as importantly, whenever I was in public, I always kept the hood over my head and ears.

  “Eventually, I developed the knowledge, as well the magical powers, to not only secretly kill my mother's enemy, yet survive Hell, so far! And just so you know, I’ve only been here one day longer than you, though I appeared about a hundred miles south of where you crawled out of the sea of corpses, and I was—most thankfully—on dry land. And there’s my story in a nutshell.”

  “Wow,” Baltor finally said. “That’s a very crazy story you have there. Bottom line for you being here is so that you can find and rescue your mother, right?”