Chapter Thirteen: Dethroned

Part One

The Writer looked up at the Mage, curious. “I don’t get it. It looks like all this king guy wanted to do was clean up the streets of the world. Get rid of all the cheaters and stealers and rapists.” He shook his head, smiling. “Why were you so afraid of someone who wanted to do justice to the world?”

The Mage shook his head slowly, “Justice…” The Mage placed both hand on the table and laced his fingers together slowly. “Justice is a dangerous word. Without compassion, Justice is cruel. Without wisdom, Justice is cruel. Without perspective, Justice is cruel.”

“Do you think murderers should be punished?” The Mage asked, suddenly, lifting his eyes to meet the Writer’s.

“Yes,” the Writer said quickly.

“The death penalty?”

“Well…” he hesitated.

The Mage nodded slowly. “Just so.” Apparently, his answer didn’t matter. He gestured to the kitchen doors. Beyond, the lights had been turned off. “All kitchens face a pest problem. Even the cleanest might experience the rare occurrence of an insect, a fly, perhaps. Now, if the chef kills the fly with a fly-swatter, is that murder?”

The Writer blinked. “What?”

“Should the chef be subjugated to a building-sized fly-swatter in kind?”

“Well… no…”

“Very well,” the Mage said, nodding. “Say for instance the chef managed to chase it out of the kitchen and send it on its way. Should he then, in turn, be forced out of his own kitchen?”

“But that’s different-“ the Writer began, but the Mage continued on.

“And if the kitchen were to experience a sudden infestation of mice or rats and the chef put out traps or poison. Should he then be subject to neck-snapping or poisoning?”

“If you promise a child a cookie if she goes to bed on time and never give her one, should something be promised you and never delivered?”

“Valentine, that’s not the same. None of that’s the same. How could you place the life of a human on the same level as a pest? How could you call someone who accidentally stepped on an ant a murderer?”

The Mage leaned forward slowly, his eyes hard. “To the King it makes no difference. He would as soon kill a baby who accidentally ate a bug as destroy a fully grown man who just mowed down a room full of people. And then where does it stop? He has but one life to give in exchange for those he just killed so the King would go forth and pluck the man’s family, however innocent, out and kill them just to insure equivalent exchange. The woman who just lied to a customer over the phone to cover her own ass suddenly finds the amount of the deal in question gone from her retirement savings.”

“But… that makes no sense.”

“No, because there is no understanding in the King. He is a force of the universe given form on this planet to exact judgment and justice. He is…” The Mage shook his head. “He is the failsafe.”

“Failsafe?”

“As you know, I was not the only one like myself so long ago. There were others. Other Mages who made their own way in human society. But there were two… children, really. The King and the Crown.” The Mage shook his head and leaned back into his chair. The crown, his… sister for all intents and purposes, she was his conscious, she guided him through the decisions that needed to be made and she directed his fury where it needed to be applied. They were so young…”

As the Mage fell silent, the Writer tilted his head, trying to catch his eye. “And what happened to the Crown?”

“There was a war.” The Mage fell silent again, but before the Writer could press the questioning, he continued. “You remember it as the war between the titans. When the colossus’ strode across the land and laid it to waste. So long ago the gods fought across the sky. The Crown was the first casualty.”

“Why? Why was there a war?”

“There were those of us who wanted to live peacefully and help humanity reach its potential. But then there were others, far more, who wanted to subjugate the entirety of the human race to slavery. They wanted to rule as gods among men. I… a few others and I took steps to protect humanity. We built Atlantis, Shambhala, Yves, and Nod and gave their human inhabitants the tools to defend itself against our kind. We armed them and then the war began.”

The Mage raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. The Writer remained silent. “The King and Crown, who held no allegiances in this conflict, went about doing what they’d always done: visiting communities around the world to bestow law and justice. But then they reached Yves.”

“The island of Yves had instituted slavery on their island in the pacific. I wonder to this day why they’d done that. There didn’t seem to be any reason for it. We’d built them an entire city of silver spires and glittering towers. They had technology, plumbing, wireless internet – well, perhaps not that last – but suffice it to say that they had every amenity that they could have wanted and yet the king of the island decided to make those who weren’t the aristocracy slaves.”

“The King and Crown arrived after some years had passed and began to hand down judgment. Law looked at the beautiful city of Yves and the gluttonous actions and demeanor of its king and the poorer regions of the world from which it stole people and turned them into slaves and decreed. The king himself would serve as a slave for one year for each day slavery remained law in Yves.”

“’You are mistaken,’ she said to the king, her tall form swathed in simple fabrics and ribbons. ‘The king is servant to his people. The government remains by the will of the people. You have riches beyond measure and yet you seek to take life and time and effort from others without compensation. The Law is clear, your reign is over’”

“Of course this particular decree was not met with cheerful acceptance,” The Mage stirred his tea idly with his spoon. “Before Justice could act, they killed Law with the weaponry we provided them. The consequences of which… The island that held this kingdom has been erased from the face of the earth. The King called down a devastating storm and the force of it scoured away the city and the island and all that had lived there, so great was his fury, so absolute was his justice.” The Mage cleared his throat. “Without the Crown to temper justice, the others of my kind took control of him and used him to destroy any and all who stood against them in their bid to subjugate humanity.”

“Rhianna was one of our most brilliant warriors. It was through her genius actions and the sacrifice of most human life in the city that we were able to imprison the King within Shambhala. But after, she grew cold and ruthless, relishing the feeling and thrill of battle and competition. As the war raged, just as she locked away the King, I exiled her into a side realm of existence.”

The Writer shook his head slowly, there was so much politic and battle where it pertained the Mage and here, the man had been presenting himself as a person of peace. In reality, he was dangerous. So very dangerous.

“Why was there a being of pure fury – of justice?” The Writer asked, finally.

“That’s a good question. Why, indeed do I sit here before you? Or you before me? It simply is.” The Mage shook his head, “I do not know why because I never bothered to ask. Now I wonder at why I didn’t.”

Part Two

The King stood in the open glass doorway, surveying the scene before him. The teddy bear hung from the King’s right hand and swayed slightly from the King’s initial outburst. He looked over the shadow creatures, the look of pure contempt startling on such a young face.

He opened his mouth to speak and in his tiny, clear voice, said: “Trespass. Attempted theft. Attempted murder. Penalty: Death.”

With only that as warning, the tiny blue spark that I’d identified as the Metatron flared into existence next to the king, bright and red. A beam of light shot out of the pinprick of light and lanced through two of the shadow creatures and they exploded into wisps of black cloth-like tatters which, as they fell disintegrated into dust.

After that, all hell broke loose. The grand windows exploded as a red lance of light slammed through it from the great red sun outside of the chamber. Another shadow creature exploded. The glass, which had been holding up the roof of the chamber was shattering horizontally and, above, the roof was slowly starting to descend. I took that as my cue to move.

I made a dash for the spiral stair, my body still feeling as though I was submerged in liquid, moving slowly and sluggishly. One edge of the roof hit the ground, cutting off the light from the sun, but the lances of light from it didn’t stop. Red beams punched through the golden, finely crafted material even as the rest of the glass holding up the other side of the roof shattered. I slid the last few feet to the stair and barely made it before the ceiling came crashing down.

I hazarded a glance over the edge of the spiral stair and shouted at the scene below.

“Oh COME ON!”

Far, far below, several of the shadow creatures were arranged in a circle facing inward, arm limbs held out. In the center of the circle a great sphere was forming, the same sort that I’d seen in Truth and Consequences, made of the same material that had temporarily blocked the door in room 1408 at Stonehenge, the same energy as that which had heralded the failed invasion in Tokyo.

They were creating a portal and one of them had the control crystal.
No, not one of them down there. As I watched, one of the creatures leaped from the level just below me to dive toward the opening portal. That one had the crystal. Without thinking, I launched myself off of the stair as well. The creature hadn’t noticed me, which is very well–it is far more aerodynamic than I was, but it had spread its arms and was trying to maneuver itself to land directly into the portal.

The levels of the spiral stair flashed past as I angled my body to intercept the creature. I struck it heavily, and we spun quickly as we hurtled toward the ground. The creature aimed a swipe at my head and I barely managed to dodge the slash. I turned and slammed a fist into what appeared to be its abdomen, then brought my fist forward again into its head. The tingle of weakness propagated through my body, but the punch was hard enough to send the creature reeling. Th e control crystal slipped from its grip and I made a grab for it.

Above, a tremendous crash rocked the air around us as we fell. The roof, which had collapsed in the top chamber, was now falling through the tower, crushing the stair as it fell. Dust, gold and rock tumbled downward like large, glittering raindrops, but each of those drops weighed more than five-hundred pounds each. Below, the creatures that had been holding the portal open, scurried away, and the portal flickered and died.

The creature and I hit the marble ground at speed and pain shot through my body, knocking the breath from me. The creature slammed into the ground and disintegrated into so much wisp-like cloth. I stared upward at the massive dome of the roof as it bumped and shifted on its way toward the ground, unable to get my limbs to move. Weakness and pain had paralyzed me and now jumping off of a thousand meter tall stairway didn’t seem all that brave or smart.

I wasn’t sure if I’d survive the impact, weakened as I was. But I did know that a hundred thousand ton of stone and gold falling from that same height would crush me in my weakened state.

At least I’d stopped Rhianna temporarily. If the scientists at my research institute and Michelle Williams, director of the Office of Super Natural Affairs worked quickly, they may be able to save this world themselves. But all those other realities may not be quite as prepared with their versions of myself similarly disabled. And with countless realities taken over and staged, the terrible truth of it was that when I died, reality would fall to Rhianna.

I closed my eyes and clenched the control program in my hand. Still… some time to live was better than none.

The noise grew louder and I felt the fine dust collected from hundreds of years fall onto my face. The ground around me shook and I could hear the ringing of the dome against stone, as if tolling my death. Ringing, to mourn the end of reality.

Then it all stopped. I wiped the dust from my face and sat up slowly.

The King stood over me, holding up the dome with his tiny, tiny hand. In his other, he clutched his teddy bear by one arm, the rest of it hung limp, swinging slightly. “Adol,” he said, smiling as if I’d made a huge joke, “You’re funny. It’s not time for you to die yet.”

Part Three

I looked up at the young boy that Justice had become. I am not sure how to describe the fear that welled up from deep within me. Primal, raw. Like an old farmer looking out of his window to see a funnel cloud descending just a few miles away. A sailor watching a wall of cloud and rain and water barreling down upon his tiny fishing vessel.  A mother watching as the mountain that had once been such a simple fact of life, hovering above her home, crumble, sending rock and mud cascading toward her small home and the yard in which her children played.

He was the force that could not be bargained with. A simple fact of nature that held no logic or reason; no favoritism. He was inevitability.

The King looked down at me as he held up the massive golden dome of the tower, all bright smiles as if a child having done something impressive and was wanting praise from a parent.  After a moment, where, of course, I said nothing, he frowned and moved off to the side, pushing the dome upward and propping it on what remained of the spiral staircase. He quietly took stock of the destruction around him and sighed, wistfully.

“You’re awake,” I said, stupidly. To be fair, I didn’t have very much else I could say to the creature.

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “And now that I am wake, I will deliver justice to this sinful world.” He said it plainly, as if commenting that the sun was indeed burning in the sky and the moon would rise in the night.

“I think you should go back to sleep.”

“No. I have work to do here.”

“It is not time for you to be awake. There are too many things that need to be done before you are awakened. This world is not ready for you, yet.”

“Then why have you awakened me?” The boy that was The King turned and looked over me, curious. “I have been asleep for a very long time. Isn’t it time for me to come to the world?”

“No, it is not. Absolutely not.”

“Metatron?”

The King called out into the air and the pinprick of light that was the Metatron appeared next to him. “Yes, Highness.”

“Is it time for me to be awakened?”

“I…” the pinprick hesitated. I shook my head quickly. “Do not believe so, Highness.”

The King seemed confused at that, which is not always the best thing to see in a deity’s eyes. Confusion meant destruction. “What the Metatron means,” I jumped in, “is that you were awakened too early. Rhiannon sent her associates to come and steal the control program from your Tower. I came to stop them and you happened to wake. You already destroyed them so there’s no reason for you to remain awake.”

The King nodded slowly, “Yes. That justice has already been dealt to the thieves and trespassers.” He gazed across the wreckage, then looked through the archway leading out to the rest of the Kingdom. “My city is silent. I do not hear the merchants or the callers, nor my caregivers or the priests. Where are they?”

“They have moved to the world, Highness,” the Metatron replied easily.

“They left… Why would they leave me?” Again, that confusion.

“They… thought that you would remain asleep for a long time. You see, you weren’t supposed to wake up just yet—“

“No.” The King cut me off with a wave of his hand. He turned toward me. “You… Adol. I remember. Brother of Amon. The one of a thousand souls. The strategist. The speaker. The peace killer. The amoror. The war bringer. The soul stealer. I remember you, Adol. The destroyer of nations. The bane of humanity. The traitor of mages. I name you, Adol. The killer of husbands, wives and children. The killer. The butcher. One of a thousand faces. The schemer. The poison-tongued. The trickster. I see you, Adol.”

He held up a hand, “And now you try to seduce me back to my slumber. I am Justice; we never rest.”

Cold washed through me as he passed judgment on all of my actions during the war.

I turned toward the archway leading to the exit of the Tower and before I had taken a full step, the King was there, staring at me with impassive, cold eyes. I turned again, in a different direction, and he was again, there. The message was clear: I could not escape Justice, no matter how flawed it was.

“I am not a criminal.”

“You have sinned.”

“Yes.”

“You have lied.”

“Yes.”

“Then you are a criminal.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. There are times when we must not tell the truth to prevent greater harm-“

“SILENCE!” the King bellowed. The rubble of the stairs shifted and more dust filtered down from the walls. “I will not be seduced into complacency by your silver tongue nor hypnotized by your myriad of faces, Adol.”

The King took a step forward and I a step back. I suddenly felt my left hand vibrate violently. In it, I held the control program, the true power of the Towers. The device which made it possible for the Towers to tap into the inrfinite power of the universe. I held it forward and felt weakness spread throughout my body as, unshielded, the crystal worked its forces on reality around me.  A shimmering dome of blue white energy crackled into existence around me.

Almost immediately, the King was upon me. He was too fast to even blur as he rushed forward and slammed his free hand into the shield. Light and noise arced out from the impact, but the shield held. His face grew red and warped with fury. The innocent face of the boy was replaced with something wholly different, wholly ancient. His eyes widened, and widened until they were large orbs covering a full third of his face. His mouth widened, revealing unnaturally large teeth. His voice warped, growing low and rough.

“You will submit to Justice, Adol! Lower this shield!” The tower around us shook, all one thousand meters of its height shifted from the words, yet the shield held as he pounded against it. He released the teddy bear and it sunk to the ground slowly, growing larger as the King’s rage grew.

“I cannot. Not yet. There is a threat coming to this world that I must answer,” I replied, breathing heavily. My left hand had gone numb, gripping the crystal with the grip of the dead. I could not release it. I felt it reaching into me, pulling the energies it needed to sustain the field.

“I will answer it. And I will bring Rhiannon to Justice just as I have in the past.”

“No. You will rise and you will crush and destroy. You are broken, Justice. Without Law you are nothing but fury and noise and destruction.”

“I am needed.”

“Yes. But you are consequence without action. You are effect without cause. You are a ripple in a pond with no wind or fallen stone.”

The King paused, the blank stare of confusion nearly comical on the warped face.

There! Just woken, Justice was confused. Before he had gone to sleep, he was easy to incite to full fury, but now, with only the trespass and my remembered crimes, he had somehow diminished or temporarily lost his faculties.

I reached forward through the shield, a small gap opening for me and thrust the crystal forward. The King, in his confused fury, pounced. His hand shot out and grasped mine. Immediately, I felt his small hand clutch violently around mine, drawn inexorably toward the crystal. I looked down at my arm and saw the sinew and veins in sharp relief. It was as if a vacuum had been applied to my palm and all of the excess fat and flesh from it.

The King snarled with surprise and reached forward with his other tiny hand to pull the crystal free of my hand. Once his flesh touched the crystal directly, my involuntary grip on it released as it had, presumably, found a greater power source than I.

With an electronic whine, the shield flared up around the King, trapping him in a dome of blue white, crackling energy. He looked up, surprised. “Trickster,” he hissed. He stared down at his hand and I could see the effort he put into trying to release himself from its draining grip. Unsuccessful, he bellowed in rage and frustration. “Release me, Adol!”

I shook my head slowly. My strength slowly returned to me. It was as if I’d left a blizzard and was now standing before a crackling fire. The warmth filled me through to my fingertips. My arm lost its decrepid look and filled out slowly. “You must sleep. If not for the world, for yourself.”

“Metatron, destroy him!” he bellowed, his voice oddly warped by the barrier of the field.

“My… security systems seem to be malfunctioning…” the pinprick of light said slowly, hesitant.

“LIAR!”

“Metatron, return me to the surface. As long as the control program remains in his possession, it shall be safe.” I looked back to the King as he howled, trying desperately to free his hand of the crystal. The crystal wouldn’t kill him, at least not right away. I would have a few centuries at least to figure out how to free him, but for now I needed the time to save the world. With the control program protected beneath the forcefield for the forseeable future, I could move on to find the fourth.

The last I saw of Shambhala as I was drawn upwards in a stream of light and particles was the screaming fury of the King. His words had reminded me of the war I thought I’d left behind. But the conflict was everywhere. Even now, thousands of years later, its effects could still be felt in the world. And worse, in my heart.

Part Four

“None of us, not even The King are omniscient. The concept of such is beyond even us. This leaves plenty  of room for misinterpretation and miscommunication. It also means that in this particular case, I was being accused of a number of crimes based on actions which have been misunderstood by The King.” The Mage nodded slowly. He raised his cup of ta to his lips and grimaced. It was cold.

“Those seem like a lot of accusations for there to be a simple misunderstanding,” the Writer countered. The sky beyond the restaurant had grown dark and now the sounds of early night filled the world beyond the glass.

“Yes.” The Mage nodded again. “One can say that. But as I said before, Justice – The King – is nothing without the temperament of Law.”

“And after extolled the virtues and of compassion over blind justice you left him trapped underground in Shambhala.”

The Mage raised a brow. “To be fair, he was going to destroy the human race. So I thought it a good idea to keep him from doing that. At least temporarily.”

The Writer rubbed his eyes and sighed softly. “I’m sorry. It’s late and I get a little snappish with fatigue.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Maybe we should stop for now and pick up tomorrow.” The Mage offered and glanced toward the doors. Beyond the small windows, two uniformed men stood silent and solid.

The Writer set down his stylus and leaned forward. “Elijah, I’m trying to figure out how you kept this all secret. How has all of this remained a secret?”

The Mage smiled ruefully. “We’re on a first name basis, then?” He chuckled. ”We didn’t have journalists. In the pasts there were scribes and storytellers who followed some of us. Philosophers. Priests. And news travelled far slower in the past and was always marred by superstition and, well, distance.” He leaned forward. The two of them hovered over the long burned out candle.

“Since the printing press some of the stories have been met with skepticism. Ripley’s Believe it Or Not get a lot more credible stories than they realize. They publish the ones that are ‘more believable’” The Mage made air quotes “but it’s usually the most outlandish stories that turn out to be true. And since the advent of the internet there are corners of it that are teaming with speculators and dreamers. Then there are darker corners that house the truth but are often discounted.”

“Bigfoot.”

“Fake.”

“Abominable snow man.”

“Real.”

“Mermaids.”

“And men, yes.”

“Pegasus.”

The Mage grinned. “No, but unicorns are real.”

“Seriously?”

“Actually, they are quite real. Just extremely elusive.”

“But… how?”

“There are demons, alternates of the human species or dominate species that visit this world. Similarly, there are other beings that are not humanoid that visit this world.”

The Writer shook his head and rubbed his eyes again. “What is the strangest creature you’ve ever come across?”

The Mage paused, thinking. “That’s not really a question I can answer fairly. Each creature is unique in its own way. But I’ll tell you this: what I have to tell you tomorrow will satisfy your curiocity.”

“That is a hook I’m going to have to leave for tomorrow.”