The Creators Ch 09

Chapter Nine: Father

Prelude: Wrath

DIAMOND

The sun was dark in the astral plane. It stayed low in the sky, some part of it always dipping below the horizon as through perpetually setting. It burned around the rim like a great circle surrounding a void, and that bit of radiance that escaped the edges illuminated the astral plane in perpetual twilight.

"It's being eclipsed by the true sun," a familiar voice said beside me, "but the true sun doesn't shine in the world."

"Hi Arby!" I grinned at the little man. His eyes were orange surrounding green now, and I didn't doubt that mine were purple surrounding emerald.

"Hello Diamond," the old dwarf smiled, his kindly wrinkles sinking into his face. "It seems that you've found your way to your garden."

"Mother's garden," I mused, looking around the plush overgrown estate. It looked like it had been abandoned. Stone pergolas and gazebos were crumbling and entwined with vines, marble statues were defaced and laced with foliage, the earth had reclaimed what might've once been a great pavilion. "Or what's left of it, anyway."

"This is her gift to you," Arby said. "It is yours now. It is in rough shape, but you'll tidy it up in time."

"How do I do that?" I frowned at the decay around me.

"Just by living," Arby chuckled. "This is the plane of cognizance, Diamond; it is a thing of experience and memory. Right now, the vestiges of your mother's existence are diminishing to give way to your own. Look over there," Arby pointed to a well-trimmed shrub that looked entirely out of place, "that one's new. What is it? My eyes aren't so great, even here."

"My first blowjob," I said simply, looking at the bush trimmed to excruciating detail.

"Oh," Arby said, shifting beside me. My eyes drifted around the garden, where little bits of renewal were springing-up from the decay.

"If all of this is going away, does that mean I'll lose all the things Mother taught me?" I asked.

"No, those things are a part of you. What you see here is already dead. Your mind is just clearing real-estate for new thoughts."

"Mom sure had a lot of experiences," I mused, looking at the vast, derelict expanse of marble and foliage. There was even a palace in the distance, with the dome caved-in and vines spiraling the pylons that supported it. A procession of maple trees led to its classical entrance; whose columns were festooned with glowing mushrooms.

"That is where your mother's oldest memories were," Arby said. "That is the center of her realm. Over the millennia, her borders expanded with her expanding knowledge, and as you can see," Arby gestured over the grandiose spectacle, "her knowledge was vast."

My eyes wandered to the south, where the hint of a stone path could be discerned through moss. It led to a gate, whose iron bars and stone supports looked as new as anything here.

"Where does that go to?" I asked.

"That is the end of your realm," Arby said, "and it is firmly locked and shut for a good reason. You are untethered, Diamond; you must never venture from this place."

"I'm what?"

"Untethered. I can walk the astral plane with impunity because I have a safety-line back to the world of life. You have this realm, and in this realm, you are safe, but venture beyond the gate, and you will be exposed. The astral plane is not like the real world, Diamond; space and time don't follow the same rules. In the voids between realms seconds can be minutes, feet can be miles, and the gate you exited will not be there when you turn back. It's best if you just—hey, what the hell are you doing?!"

"Leaving," I said as I skipped down the path.

"Didn't you just hear me?" Arby said, jogging alongside me as I bounded toward the gate.

"You're coming with me, aren't you?" I smiled at him. "So since I've got you, I don't need to worry!"

"Just because I can navigate the astral plane, doesn't mean I'm safe!" Arby was huffing as he tried to keep pace with me.

"I thought you said only Mom could kill you?"

"Safety is more than just not being dead," Arbitrus said, red-faced. "There are great dangers here, Diamond, and it's best to observe them from a great distance, preferably in the physical world. Where are you going?"

"I'm going to wake up Wrath and Sorrow, and ask them about Corruption."

"WHAT?!"

"They probably know her, so they seem to be the right people to ask."

"Diamond," Arby grabbed me by the arm, "remember those 'great dangers' I

just

told you about?! Well, two of them are Wrath and Sorrow!"

"And I am neither sad, nor angry," I offered him my dazzling smile, "so I have nothing to worry about."

"That's not how it works," Arby shook his head. "Also, why do you need to learn about Corruption? Your mother is just going to kill Night Eyes and be done with it anyway. Diamond? Why are you smiling like that?" Arby's face fell. "Julia isn't going to kill Night Eyes, is she?" My smile grew wider, and Arbitrus's face fell further, "Because Julia learned the truth about her... shit."

"You old dingus!" I laughed, "You knew all along!"

"Well, I heard it from your other mother first," Arby grumbled, "so obviously she didn't feel like telling you either. Passion may have been content with just pushing the problem out of her borders, but I live in reality. Willowbud needs to die, Diamond; there's no way around it."

"That's not what Mom thinks," I said, taking Arby by the hand, and continuing my skipping. "I don't know what she's doing, but whatever it is, she'll need my help, and what better way to help then to find out all of Corruption's dirty little secrets?"

"There's no way to dissuade you, is there?" Arby asked.

"Nope!" I grinned, and unlatched the gate.

The astral plane outside of my realm was not... anything. Mountains turned to oceans turned to forests turned to deserts, never staying one for long, always transitioning. The sky turned from orange, to pink, to blue, then to black, a canvas of billions of stars blanketing each hue, never the same constellations shown. The one constant in the ever-changing world, was the stone path we walked upon, and I knew that if I released Arby's hand, the path would not be there for me, and I would be lost in the chaos. Suddenly, we were walking through massive stalks of grass, and an ant the size of a mountain crawled above us, its footsteps shaking the earth. Then, I was walking through blackness, my face hitting specs of light that I realized were stars, each one orbited with its own system of planets almost too small to see. That gave-way to an immense field of lava, where fish leapt from the inferno and walked on two legs to sit around a camp fire lit with water. Then, there was a gate. Wrought-iron and imposing, it stood tall with black statues of warriors siding the path.

"This is the realm of Wrath," Arby sighed, "and I will go no further."

"Why, are you scared?" I teased the ex-Heat Bringer.

"Terrified," Arby said quietly. Maybe Arby's foreboding tone was meant to give me pause, but I was too excited to meet an ancient being of evil to share in his fear.

"Well then stay out here, you weenie!" I laughed, and pushed open the gate.

Wrath's realm was one of contrast. The sun shown a blood-red, and the shadows it cast didn't form gradients, but sharp changes from light, to dark. Hundreds of thousands of black statues were stuck in poses of struggle, a still-image of epic battle that stretched to either horizon, where jagged mountains marked the boundaries of the realm. Great fortresses of obsidian shot from the earth, their walls shear and without windows or doors, their battlements standing hundreds of feet above the hardpan earth. The visuals were deafening, but the world was silent.

"Hello?" I called out. "Wrath, are you awake?"

Boom. The sound thundered across the valley, echoing against the iron walls, singing through the statues. Boom. It was closer now, sharper. Boom. The earth began to shake. Boom. I stumbled. Boom. I fell to my knees, hands clutching at the gravel in a vain effort to level myself. Boom, boom, boom, boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom. It sounded like footsteps now, and they were getting closer. I looked up, and saw a shadow on the horizon. Immense and hazy with the fog of great distance, its red eyes barely glinted from a face that was miles away—and he was right in front of me, red eyes staring into mine, black skin shining, white teeth filed to points and grinning at me. The shadow that had seemed massive so far away, had kept the size of its perspective, now making him eight-feet tall instead of the thousand-foot behemoth he had seemed before.

"Hi!" I smiled back at him. "My name's Diamond, and I—"

"Hello, Daughter of Passion, Daughter of the Destroyer, the Untethered One!" Wrath interrupted with a deep, boisterous voice. "I am Wrath, spirit of battle, spirit of rage, spirit of glory and blood! Why have you come to my realm?"

"Well, I have some questions about—"

"But where are my manners?" Wrath yelled over me. "I have a guest, and I have not offered her food, nor drink, nor bed! Forgive me, Daughter of Passion, Daughter of the Destroyer, the Untethered One."

I was sitting at a massive table, a feast of only meat covering its expanse. Suckling pig, slabs of beef, turkeys, chickens, and a few animals I didn't recognize, all steaming and moist. And I was a vegetarian.

"Your mother," Wrath said through a mouthful, apparently three-plates into his dinner, "used to come to me from time to time. She was quite a warrior, Passion was. We would spar in my arena, and the bouts we had were TREMENDOUS!" The whole table shook with his voice. "The crowd would roar as our steel clashed, as the sweat dripped from our bodies, and the blood dripped from our blades. Do you enjoy the exhilaration of the contest, Daughter of Passion, Daughter of the Destroyer, the Untethered One?"

"Well, earlier today I got in a fight with a—"

"EXCELLENT!" and we were in a massive arena, stone risers stretching to infinity, the crowd all wrought-iron statues, frozen in expressions of great excitement, but silent. Wrath paced across from me, naked save for a loin cloth, his black orc body bulging unnaturally with muscle, his movements that of a tiger; graceful, but hinting at great power. He wielded an enormous sword, almost comically big, and I realized I was holding two blades, my body encased with tight-fitting leather.

"Your mother was a natural at dual-wielding," Wrath stretched his neck this way, and that. "She would cut me to a thousand pieces before I got my strike in, but when I did, I would TURN HER BODY TO MIST!"

Wrath let out a great bellow, and charged headlong across the sand. I yelped, threw away my swords, and sprinted to the wall, frantically searching for an exit. Of course there was none, and I squawked in terror as Wrath's enormous blade came crashing down on me. I dove to the right, tumbled, rose to my feet, dove to avoid another downward strike, then grabbed my swords from the sand, rolled away, and skidded as I spun, my pivot heel digging into the sand, my trailing heel creating a semicircle and kicking dust into the air. Wrath was on me again, and I ducked his decapitating swing, scrambled between his legs, and drew blood along his calves with my outstretched blades. He didn't make a sound as steel cut through flesh, but simply turned on his heel, and dropped his shoulders for a moment.

"Fabian tactics!" Wrath bellowed approvingly. "Make your enemy come to you, on your terms. Feign weakness to goad him, then show your strength when he is committed. I like it!"

"Yeah," I gasped, "that's what I was doing."

"It will not work again!" Wrath grinned broadly. "It is now in my memory forever, and I will use it against you, you can be certain of that! You should have saved it for the killing blow!"

Wrath charged again, back arched behind him as he raised his sword over his head, red eyes bulging, his black torso stretched to reveal too many abdominal muscles. I sidestepped the downward strike, barely hopped over the dragging swipe, then spun in the air, and stuck my blades to the hilt through his bicep. Once again, Wrath didn't seem to acknowledge the great wound I delivered him, and I almost lost my swords as he moved his arm for another strike. I pulled my weapons free, scrambled from a thrown elbow, ducked a slice that would've cut me in half, then charged in, screaming at the tops of my lungs as I lunged toward his exposed chest. A foot caught me in the stomach, and I was hurled away, rolling and tumbling on the sand, scraping my skin, losing one sword, and barely holding on to the other. I struck the wall with a thud, my blurred vision seeing a black figure surging toward me, a cloud of dust in his wake.

"I told you I would use it against you!" Wrath cackled as he charged. "You must listen, Daughter of Passion, Daughter of the Destroyer, the Untethered One!"

I lurched to the side just as Wrath's blade cracked the stone.

"You are nimble!" Wrath yelled.

I hopped over another sweep, ducked the elbow, but didn't lunge for the exposed chest. Instead, I stabbed him in the foot that was meant to intercept my would-be lunge, then jumped away as that foot gave-way to a knee, barely pulling out my sword in time.

"You learn fast!" he yelled again.

He swung overhand, and I stepped into the blow, letting it pass over me at the last second. His entire body was open to me, and I raised my sword to put it through his chest, but speared him through the thigh instead. I didn't wait for the blade to sink deeply, but pulled it across fast, spurting blood, then diving between his legs, and rolling away from his stomping foot. Wrath turned around, his wound a gruesome display of red and pink, but not seeming to affect him in the least. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"But you do not have the killer instinct," Wrath smiled. "You had my heart in your sight, but you went for a disabling blow. Perhaps I was wrong about you, Daughter of Passion, Daughter of the Destroyer, the Untethered One. Perhaps you are made of flaccid and soft things. Perhaps you are as weak as that cock between your girly legs."

Did that just goad me? Was I really that easily manipulated? At first, I was annoyed. It wasn't a weak cock! Sure, it wasn't the biggest, but it had a lot of heart. Then, I was mad. My wiener is not small! It's statistically average! Then, I felt... not anger, but...

rage.

It burned behind my eyes, pounded in my chest, ignited in my muscles. Oh, did it feel

GOOD!

My teeth were practically cracking as they ground in my manic grimace, my hair was standing from my flesh, my knuckles were white against my hilt. My bones felt like titanium, my muscles felt like they'd burst from the skin, and that skin felt like it was impenetrable. I'd been in a cage my whole fricken life, and now someone had just left it unlatched, and the animal would have her revenge. I screamed, and the sound was as joyous as it was wrathful, and I charged at the orc with my teeth bared, no longer caring for my safety, no longer bothering with being "nimble."

"DON'T MAKE FUN OF MY WIENER!" I roared with a thousand voices.

Wrath shared my manic grin as we exchanged steel. I moved with the recoil of my sword, faltered back to let his blade pass over me, then I dived at him, catching his fist on my ribs, hearing the bones crack, and welcoming the pain, relishing it, hoping for it. I spun with the change of momentum, my sword held tight to my chest, my manic eyes searching in slow-motion for the opening, until I saw it. The aorta in Wrath's neck was bulging, pumping with his heart, and my blade sung forth, and sliced it. The fist that had struck my ribs had an elbow following it, and I smiled my last smile as bone met jaw, and my face caved-in. It didn't matter. I had won. I had killed. I rolled across the dirt, seeing teeth fall from my unhinged jaw, watching my bit-off tongue flop in the sand, and I grinned internally as the pain screamed against me. I stopped, rose to my feet, realized that my left lung had collapsed, but I wasn't feeling too bothered by it. Wrath was still smiling at me as he collapsed to his knees, blood burbling from his throat. He let out a strangled laugh, and fell onto his face. Soon after, so did I.

"Ah, it does feel good to taste defeat again," Wrath said as we lounged in his hot tub, drinking ale from the horns of some great beast. "I don't get many visitors, but the ones that come are often too full of bluster, and die too easily."

"Who comes here?" I asked, enjoying the jet of water riding up my ass crack.

"Oh, all sorts," Wrath said. "I leave my door on the other side open to any mortal who cares to test me."

"There's a door on the other side?"

"Of course!" Wrath laughed. "How else would I journey to the world when I am called for?"

"Where is it?"

"There is a great hole beneath the Gratoran Desert," Wrath said, ale dripping down his chin. "It is an immense cavern, filled with the heinous beasts that seek shelter from the heat. It was once a city, if I am not mistaken."

"Droktinar?" I asked.

"THAT'S IT!" Wrath boomed. "Droktinar! Any warrior who can fight through the ground-dwellers and the beast of Honor that resides in Droktinar is worthy of seeking audience with me. If they defeat me in battle, then I may meld with them, and give my gift to their hordes!"

"Is that what I felt? Your gift?"

"So full of questions, you are!" Wrath laughed. "But yes, you tasted my gift. Did you find it to your liking?"

"I did," I grinned at him.

"As did your mother!" Wrath seemed to yell everything. "She would taste my gift, and we would have the most VIOLENT SEX THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN! Good Mother, do I miss her already!"

"You follow the maternal path?" I asked. "Shouldn't you be a Creationist?"

"Why would I be a Creationist?" Wrath inquired. "The heathen gods are temporary things, but the Holy Mother is eternal!"

"But, you were created by Furok, so..."

"I do not know of what you speak," Wrath said, taking another drink. "I was created by the Holy Mother so that I could lead her crusading warriors to glorious victory!"

"The Holy Mother is a pacifist!" I exclaimed.

"IS SHE?! Than why is the earth stained with the refuse of war? The Holy Mother desires her creations to be made of iron, to be sharpened to the finest point, to be forged in the great smelter of battle!" Wrath said as if his words were prophecy. "She wants BLOOD! She wants DEATH! She wants the bowels of hell to be filled with the weak, and the halls of heaven to be blessed with the strong! I am the filter of her purpose, and I have yet to fail in my assessment!"

"That's not what I was taught," I mumbled.

"THEN YOU WERE TAUGHT WRONG!" Wrath bellowed, veins bulging in his neck. This was obviously not an argument worth having. If Wrath wanted to believe his version of the Maternal Path, who was I to say otherwise? I didn't believe in the version Mom taught me anyway. It was strange that he didn't remember how he was created, and I wondered if he remembered anything of what he once was.

"Halok," I said quietly, carefully watching Wrath from the tops of my eyes. He gave me an inquisitive look, like I was speaking gibberish, then redirected his attention to the horn of ale in his hand.

He doesn't remember anything, does he? Does even know what he is?

"What do you know about the most ancient one?" I asked.

"Who is that?" Wrath asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Corruption?"

"A great problem in politics," Wrath frowned, "often only resolved through revolution, and bloodshed. It is a weak man who sells his nation for coin. If a man desires wealth, why not simply seize it through conquest?"