The Dark Lord of Crafting

Leto drank two of my potions. It was actually smart to combine Feather-Fall with Leaping and reduce the likelihood of hurting himself with a jump. There was never really a chance he would get away with it, however, as his mother caught him vaulting over the horses outside of the shelter the morning after we left Nargul.

“What are you doing!” Esmelda shouted as our son drifted down beside an appreciably unruffled Marie, Gastard’s mare. He’d gone six feet in a vertical leap, which was awesome for an eleven-year-old, magically reinforced or not.

“I was just exercising,” Leto said.

“What did you take?” she demanded.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, hanging his head.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said. “I saw you come down.”

“It was only a little,” he kicked the dirt. “It won’t hurt me.”

“How much did you drink?” Esmelda's voice rose.

“Not much,” he said. “I thought it would be enough to get me over the trees.”

It might have gotten me over a tree, but the effect of Leaping was relative to your Might attribute, and Leto wasn’t there yet. I’d noticed the bottles were missing shortly after waking. Our son had gotten himself up before dawn, rifled through my bags, and found what he wanted. The most dangerous part wasn’t what he had taken, but that my potions were not labeled. He’d been helping me train Alchemize the night before, and we’d gone over what all the potions I had made so far were, and he’d seen what they looked like, but it was still a risky move.

Leaping was violet, with black specks, and Feather-Fall was off-white, a little like milk but with an opalescent quality around the edges of the bottles. Neither of them looked anything like the Poison bottle, which was a viscous green with yellowish streaks. Still, sorting through the selection in the dimness of predawn was not a big brain move.

“Leaping and Feather-Fall,” I said.

“Is that all? Or did you take something else as well?”

“No,” he said. “I didn’t.”

“And how much of each?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just poured a little into my mouth.”

“You poured it into your mouth?” Esmelda asked. “You didn’t measure?”

“No,” he said. “I just took a little.”

“How much is a little?” she asked.

“Not much,” he said. “I don’t know.”

The effect of the potion didn’t vary depending on how much you drank, but the duration did. A sip could get you a minute of enhanced performance, which was a nifty feature if I was ever running low on the supply.

I approached and held out my hand, appearing as stern as I could. “The bottles, please.”

Leto produced the pair of partially consumed potions from his pockets, and I examined them. He had taken about a third of each. If Esmelda hadn’t gone looking for him when she had, maybe the effects would have gone off before she saw anything, but I would have noticed the missing bottles, regardless.

“No more alchemy,” she said to Leto. “Your alchemy privileges are suspended until further notice.”

“Mom,” he said, tugging at his chainmail. “Nothing happened. They worked fine.”

“You didn’t know that they would,” Esmelda said. “You can’t do this, Leto. The melon was one thing, but you are playing with unknown magic. There was no way to be sure what kind of effect these would have on you.”

“What’s the point of making potions if we can’t drink them?”

“They’re for your father.”

In fact, I had intended to hand them out, but only after we’d gotten an informed volunteer to test out a few of the recipes. The potions were System-based, and despite some of the required ingredients, they seemed free of Bedlam taint. Gastard and I had already talked about having him try them one at a time to see whether they worked differently for a regular human than a survivor after I fed a Regeneration potion to Noivern. But having Leto mix and match them however he liked had not been a part of the plan.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You should be,” Esmelda was a stormcloud of motherly disapproval. “I’m going to have to think of a proper punishment.”

“But you said I couldn’t do alchemy anymore.”

“That’s a good start.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now get your pack together. I want to see you ready to go in five minutes.”

Leto hurried back into the shelter, and Esmelda rounded on me.

“I know,” I said. “I’ll make a lock for my bag, or something.”

She sighed. “He takes after you. I saw that long before you came back. When he has his mind set on something, he forgets everything else. The way he threw himself into sword practice, he would stay out all night if I let him.”

“Problematic genetics,” I said.

“Genetics?” I didn’t know the lillit word for it, so I used English. Esmelda spoke it like it was her native language, but there were a lot of concepts that had never been introduced in Plana.

Neither Kevin nor the other survivors had gone around trying to kick-start scientific inquiry, as far as I knew.

“Hereditary traits.”

She nodded. “It’s not a poor quality to have, overall. Though the rash decisions, I hope, are not hereditary.”

“He’s a kid. He’s going to do stupid things.”

“I know that. But you shouldn’t encourage him.”

“I didn’t encourage him to drink the potions. I’m pretty sure I warned him not to.”

“Pretty sure?” She allowed herself a slight smile, then turned to look toward our destination.

Mount Doom wasn’t visible yet, but the dark column that rose from it to renew the storm over Dargoth was. “It isn’t just what you say, it’s what you do. When Leto sees you flying off alone into battle, making big decisions without talking them through first, he’s going to think he can do those things, too. He’s lived a very sheltered life. I would love for him to have a community, and friends his age. I wish I could have given him those things. As long as our home is in Mount Doom, he’s more likely to meet a demon in the halls than a friend.”

I grimaced. It would have been healthier, and probably safer, for both of them to remain behind in Nargul with the lillits rather than come with me. “You could both stay with your father,” I said. “The war, the demons. They are going to be taking up most of my time. I don’t know how long it will be before Dargoth is stable.”

“No,” she said, “that isn’t what I want. You aren’t leaving us behind again.” She didn’t mean it as an accusation, but it felt like one.

“We can build the community he needs,” I said, “one day. But for now, is it the best thing to have you both with me?”

“When you told me about Bedlam, that horrible swamp.” She shuddered, and I stepped closer to her, placing my hand against her back. “You said you saw her, Mizu. Didn’t you?”

“I think I did.” It might have just been a hallucination. I’d nearly drowned, but something had gotten me out of the water and away from the Kulu, and the goddess intervening on my behalf was the most likely scenario.

“Even if you don’t remember meeting her before that, I know she was the one who sent you here. I have never seen her, but I feel as if she speaks to me sometimes.” She leaned into me. “I know that this is the right thing. A part of me wanted to stay in Nargul, for Leto’s sake, if nothing else. Those who were children in Williamsburg aren’t children any longer, but I saw young lillits in the tenements. I could start a school.”

“You would be good at that.” Esmelda had tutored children in Erihseht. It wouldn’t be a stretch for her to become a teacher now.

“But I know I need to be with you. It’s more than my feelings for you, William. I have this sense that if we are apart, something terrible will come to pass.”

“With what happened before, I feel the same way. But I need you safe more than I need you at my side. There’s a lot of fighting ahead of us. I barely trust the demons that have given me their oaths, and most of them still haven’t. Now that people know about you, they could try to get to me through you.”

We could have kept our relationship a secret. But people in Mount Doom already knew there was a Dark Lady, and it wouldn’t have taken long for word to spread even if we had said nothing about it in Nargul.

“If it’s a demon that wants to use us that way,” she said, “then there isn’t anyone better equipped to defend us than you are. But that still isn’t what I mean. This is more than intuition. I feel as if the goddess has spoken to me, even if she didn’t show herself to me the way she did for you. If I don’t go with you, it will be...I don’t know what it will be. But the thought makes me more afraid than I have ever been.”

“You’d think a goddess could be more specific than that.”

“Perhaps, but this is what I have, and I will act accordingly.”

It wasn’t long until Leto reappeared with his pack and began asking us why we weren’t ready. Gastard was already saddling his horse, though he had given us the space to talk. I grabbed my bags out of the shelter, and in a few more minutes, we were back on the road to Mount Doom.

***

As soon as we returned to the mountain, Zareth was on my heels.

“Welcome back, my lord. There are a few matters that require your attention. I have received letters from several of the Dukes of Dargoth, including one from Valefor, in the North, and they will require a response. Gremory has informed me that Gaap has informed her that Astaroth will swear to you. He is currently bound in the dungeons. Apart from that, I believe Bojack has something he wishes to discuss with you as well. Shall I send someone to inform him of your return?”

We had just stepped into the fortress. Esmelda and Leto were more than ready to return to our rooms and change out of their armor, and I had been hoping to join them.

My wife patted my arm. “The duties of leadership,” she said. “I expect to see you for dinner.”

“Do you require my presence?” Gastard asked.

“No, but thank you for the offer.” With a wave to my family and the templar, we parted ways.

Zareth and I headed for the dungeon where the peacock demon was being kept. Berith had nearly killed Astaroth during our fight with Agares, but he hadn’t sworn to me then. I’d sent him with Gaap as a captive, and it sounded like he’d finally come around to the idea that I was the boss now. There were so many demons around that it felt like I would need to carry around a chart to keep track of them.

“Gremory told you that Gaap told her that Astaroth was going to give me his oath?” I said. “You haven’t talked with him yourself.”

Zareth adjusted the scrolls under his arm, lifting his robes slightly to help him keep pace with me as we walked. “The other demons are no more accustomed to seeing a human as your right hand than Gremory was. They see her as the vizier and regard me as a subordinate official. It results in a circuitous form of communication.”

“Sounds like a waste of time,” I said.

“It is in their nature. While Bael relied on me for many things, I was never in a position of authority. It is nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“It kind of is,” I said. “You run this place, and as far as I can tell, you do a good job of it. The demons are going to have to learn to acknowledge you.”

“I thank you for the praise, my lord, but it may be simpler to let them do as they will.”

Having the demons give my vizier the runaround was sure to cause miscommunications in the future. Even though Zareth hadn’t said so, I assumed Gremory wasn’t going out of her way to change any of their minds about who was in charge. She wanted to be the first advisor to the Dark Lord, and this was a way for her to undermine Zareth.

“Tell me about these letters.”

“Of course. From what they have written, it is clear that not all the Dukes are aware that the former Dark Lord has been supplanted. Some of the messengers were seeking Bael, so it seems word of his death has not spread evenly. They felt something had changed, and they were concerned that the Dark Lord had gone his own way. With your permission, I intend to inform them that the Dark Lord still sits on the Throne of Shadows, but that he grew dissatisfied with the old oaths and a new blade has been forged.”

“That works for me,” I said. “Who's the guy from the North? Val something?”

“Valefor. In the previous order, he held the fourth seat, and many demons serve him. He is the Duke of Grimwald, a vital region, as it is one of the few lands in Dargoth suitable for growing regular crops. Among the demons of the North, he is the most influential. If you intend to settle the invasion from Atlan, his support will be invaluable.”

“What was his letter like?”

“Suspicious. He did not address it to Bael but to the Throne of Shadows. While he did not state outright that he knew you were not the man he swore to serve, it seems that he does know.”

“What exactly did he say?”

Zareth quoted from memory. “‘The Throne of Shadows is the heart of Dargoth, and it is only fitting that it be occupied by one strong enough to keep it. The Dark Lord is the keeper of our oaths, and the oaths are the only law we know. If the Dark Lord is not bound by the law, then neither are we.”

“That’s a bit ominous,” I said, “but how do you know he knows?”

“Occupied by one strong enough to keep it,” Zareth said again. “He is not opposed to a passing of the crown, but the rest is a warning that he will not accept a ruler unbound by oaths.”

“That works for me. I wouldn’t accept the word of a demon either.”

Astaroth’s feathers looked dingy, the blues had lost their luster, and the yellow around his eyes was turning brown. He was confined to a small cell attached to the garrison, a brig for soldiers who didn’t follow orders, and his hands were covered by what looked like a pair of steel oven mitts. Demonic magic relied heavily on somatic components. Though they didn’t always have to use their hands, their spells involved a lot of finger-wagging.

Astaroth had an affinity for fire, and as long as I had my armor on, I didn’t think he could hurt me even if he had access to magic. But without the precaution, he might have made a break for it when I was gone. He could have blasted his way through the cell door, killed the guards, and tried to free Kevin. Orobas may or may not have been stronger than him in a direct contest, but it was better not to have to worry about it.

A soldier opened the door for us, and Zareth accompanied me into the cell.

The demon was sitting on his knees like a samurai. He raised his beaked face as we entered. How long had he been like that? It looked uncomfortable.

“You wanted to talk to me?” I said.

“I will hear your terms.” His voice was smooth, controlled, and not at all birdlike.

“That’s easy. You swear to serve me, not to harm anyone under my protection, and you get to come out.”

He clicked his beak. “Is that all?”

“You’re not in a position to bargain.” “I am powerful. I can be of use.”

“Berith beat you, and I feel like I’ve got more demons in my entourage than I need at this point. You can give me your oath, or you can stay down here. Either way is fine with me.” So far, Agares was the only demon to have made an overt move against me, and from what Zareth had said, it sounded like the demons in the North could be brought around without another major conflict. I wanted all their oaths eventually, but Astaroth didn’t have much to offer me outside of fireballs.

“I am the twenty-ninth harbinger of the One Who Knocks,” he said.

“Which means you didn’t have any lands of your own, right? Not many monsters. You worked for Agares and hung around Nargul for how long?”

Astaroth gave me a seated bow. “A hundred years or more. I knew my place, and I know it now. The Dark Lord has fallen, long live the Dark Lord.”

I called the oathblade out of my inventory and rested it on his shoulder. “Say your words.”

He looked up at me. “I swear to serve you, a loyal servant, for as long as the Throne of Shadows is yours.”

It was the simplest oath yet, without a single demand attached. The ease with which he had spoken it made me suspicious, but he’d given me what I wanted and I wasn’t sure what made me uncomfortable about him. A spark traveled up the marbled edge of the blade and came to rest in the jewel to swirl among the other motes of demonic essence, a lighter color than the others, more orange than red.

Zareth used a charcoal stick to make a note on one of his scrolls. His ability to write on unsupported parchment was almost uncanny.

“How may I be of service?” Astaroth said.

“We’re going North,” I told him. “I’m going to need as much firepower as I can get up there.”

First, though, Bojack wanted to see me.