The Dark Lord of Crafting

The welcoming party consisted of a demon and a handful of human soldiers. The demon had a long neck covered in soft, tan fur, and the head of a stag. His eyes were deep, brown, and overlarge, and he wore a tabard marked by a sigil I didn’t recognize.

“We have been expecting you,” he said, his voice smooth and soothing, like someone reading a children’s book aloud. “My name is Furtur, and I serve directly under Valefor, Duke of Grimwald. If you and your party accompany me to the great hall, he will be eager to meet you.”

“Great,” I said. “There’s an army coming behind me, and they need to be stationed and supplied. Can you take care of that?”

Furtur waved a hand at one of the soldiers, who bowed and jogged off. “I’m certain we can accommodate them,” he said. “If you would be so good as to follow me.”

Fladnag had elected to accompany us after all, and he was still driving the wagon. Esmelda and Leto had donned their armor and were riding behind me with Gastard. I imagined I could feel the tension radiating off of the templar as he came face to face with yet another demon, but Furtur hardly spared them a glance as he turned to stride down the main street. Esmelda shivered as we entered the city.

There had been a few snowflakes, though nothing was sticking.

Within the walls, the streets were paved with cobblestones, meticulously laid, and showing signs of regular maintenance. The buildings were constructed from stone and timber, though overall, the city looked less artificial than Nargul or Mount Doom. This region had been settled and built by mortal hands, rather than constructed on the whim of an immortal crafter.

Despite the chill, the streets were crowded. There were so many people that I wondered if they were a part of our welcome, but many of them looked homeless. They were unkempt, with rough clothes and hollow cheeks. Countless eyes watched me with a mixture of fear and awe, but no one called out, and what voices there were quieted as we passed.

“Are these refugees?” Esmelda asked.

“The orkhans have sacked many towns,” Furtur said. “We are in the process of sorting them out. The Duke drafts as many as he can, but most of those you see are not worth the price of arming them.”

“Do they have food?” I asked. “Who’s taking care of them?”

“The seneschal handles them,” Furtur said, looking back at me. “What does it matter?”

“Dargoth is my land,” I said. “It’s people are my people. I don’t want them treated badly.”

The demon’s face gave nothing away, as inscrutable as any animal. “I will speak to the seneschal of this.”

As we ventured further into the city, the crowds thinned, and we crossed into a more normal market. Vendors lined the streets, hawking everything from fruits to weapons, but their calls seemed reserved. There was a sense of urgency in the air; people moved briskly, wrapping their cloaks tighter against the biting wind. Fires were already lit in the hearths of taverns and homes, their smoke mingling with the scent of wet earth and livestock.

Silence stretched out in a cone ahead of us, and lingered behind. People offered salutes and bows, moving to the sides of the street as we came through. Most of these gestures were directed toward Furtur, and I got the sense that the general populace didn’t know who I was. We hadn’t brought a banner to display, and if Kevin had visited Gundurgon in their lifetime, he would have been wearing different armor.

Gastard was on high alert, and his hand never left the hilt of his sword as we rode through the streets. His armor won him a lot of stares. Maybe they thought he was the Dark Lord.

The keep was a brutal-looking structure, all sharp edges and murder holes. A mist rose from the highest tower, barely more than a haze. It poured steadily upward, reminiscent of the cloud above Mount Doom. Was there another cauldron here? The walls weren't patrolled by human soldiers but a troll strapped with iron plates guarded the entrance, a massive cudgel resting at its feet. It grunted at us with too much recognition in its eyes.

“Why don’t your trolls wear armor?” Leto asked.

“Didn’t feel like they needed it,” I said. “Maybe I can throw something together though.”

Grooms took our horses, and we proceeded to the central hall with Furtur as our guide. The hall was a mirror of the throne room in Mount Doom, high and dark and decorated with complex geometric patterned tapestries, though the Duke’s seat was less overwrought than the Throne of Shadows. Our footsteps echoed on the stone as we traversed the space, and Valefor awaited us with a cloaked figure at his side at the end of the hall. He wasn’t sitting on the throne, which I took as a good sign. If he had tried to make me feel like a supplicant, we might have had to have words.

Valefor was one of the most inhuman demons I had ever met, apart from Vepar. They all had monstrous heads, but he looked like a werewolf in its hybrid form. He wore a silk vest and leggings, but every exposed part of his body was covered in thick gray fur. His snout was stubby, protruding from a canine face, surmounted on either side by faintly luminous, amber eyes. He came forward to greet me, though the cloaked figure remained behind, and extended a four-fingered hand in greeting. His fingers were long and tipped with claws.

We gripped each other’s forearms for a moment, then stepped apart.

“Dark Lord,” he said, “it is William, is it not?”

“That’s right,” I said. Zareth hadn’t given my name in any of our responses, so the demon had other sources of information. His gaze took in my family and lingered over Gastard’s armor. Despite his appearance, Valefor’s bearing was regal, and he reminded me of the beast in Beauty and the Beast, though I doubted the silverware here was about to burst out into any musical numbers.

“Allow me to extend a formal welcome to Gundurgon for you and yours.” His jaws parted in an approximation of a smile, revealing white fangs. “Is this the Dark Lady at your side?”

“I am,” Esmelda said. “Thank you for your welcome, Duke.” Her tone was cold, it was a struggle for her to be cordial with demons. “Though this is a quiet reception. Are you keeping us a secret?”

“Not at all,” Valefor said. “To be frank, I did not know what sort of reception would be best. If you would like a feast or a parade, that can be arranged. If we are to speak openly, I thought it would be preferable to meet in relative privacy.” His voice was smooth, and his manner elegant. If I had looked away, I could have almost forgotten that we were talking to a wolf demon instead of a human noble. “These are unprecedented times.”

“Who’s that?” I asked, nodding toward the cloaked figure standing by the throne.

“My seneschal,” Valefor said. “There is no secret I would not trust him with, as with Furtur.”

The stag nodded at the acknowledgment. “We want to know what you have done with Kevin.”

It was a sharp segue, and Valefor spared the other demon a hard glance. Gastard tensed, but Leto was watching them both with interest. He seemed to have lost all fear of demonkind, presumably inured by his exposure to them around Mount Doom. Esmelda frowned and stepped closer to our son.

“He’s out of the picture,” I said.

“Is he truly gone?” Furtur persisted. “Or merely bound?”

“We can talk about Kevin after we have sworn oaths,” I said, looking at Valefor. “I’m the Lord of Dargoth now, and as you suggested in your letter, we can’t trust each other fully without a formal agreement.”

“As to that,” Valefor cast a meaningful glance at my companions. Fladnag was standing quietly at the rear of our group, his face shadowed by an old gray hat. The demon’s gaze focused on him for a moment, and his amber eyes narrowed, then he shook his head. “Perhaps it would be best for you and me to speak alone.”

“There’s nothing you can say to me that can’t be said in front of them.” What did he know about Fladnag? Regardless, I had no intention of being separated and potentially having this turn into a hostage situation because Valefor wanted a better deal out of me.

“Very well,” the wolf showed his teeth. “I’m afraid I am not quite ready to accept you as the new master of Dargoth. This is not a denial, but I need to be shown that you are worthy of the throne. Kevin was a weak man, and I have no desire to see him reinstated, but a weak ruler is better than a false one.”

“You want me to prove myself?” It didn’t come as a surprise. “How?”

“There is a pillar in the north, a monument sacred to the blue goddess. Its wards are powerful enough to banish any lesser entity who dares approach it, and sap our magic if we turn our will against it. Break the pillar, and I will swear to your service without condition, as will the demons who are loyal to me.”

Esmelda said nothing, but I could feel her disapproval like the heat of the Wastes. “What about the Orkhans?” I said. “We’ll have to work together to push them out of Dargoth. We saw the refugees in the streets. The invasion isn’t something that can wait.”

Valefor brushed a few stray strands of hair off of his vest. Being a dog was undoubtedly worse for clothing than having a dog. “Atlan is a nuisance. They will tire themselves out eventually, and Grimwald will recover. They are not strong enough to breach the walls of Gundurgon. The skirmishes continue because their horsemen are too swift and too numerous to overwhelm with what we have at our disposal. It would be a waste of resources to hunt them all down when they are already suffering from gradual attrition.”

For an immortal demon, the lives lost in the interim would be of no consequence. Neither would the suffering, the starvation, that would inevitably follow from having the farms of the north sacked and burned by invaders.

“Even with your magic?” I asked. “From what I’ve seen, a handful of demons casting spells from the air would be enough to handicap an army.”

“They have shamans of their own,” Furtur shrugged. “It is a risk for us to expose ourselves.”

“I intend to face down the Orkhans,” I said. “Are you telling me that you won’t join me unless I destroy this monument first?”

“We oppose them in our manner,” Valefor said. “You need not fear the horsemen surging into lower Dargoth. But if you desire me as a vassal, the pillar must fall.”

I wanted to threaten to take the city by force, to give Valefor the same treatment as Agares, but I wouldn’t say any of that while my family was with me. They wouldn’t be staying in the city, that was certain. If Valefor wasn’t going to send his forces to support me, I would take what I had and continue north until we ran into the Orkhans.

“How many demons are there in this city?” Esmelda asked.

Valefor extended a clawed hand toward a row of banners along the wall, each of them painted with a demonic sigil. One of the banners depicted the same sign that was emblazoned over Furtur’s tabard, but the others were all unique. Eight in total. If each of them represented a demon, it was the most I’d ever seen gathered in one place, and as many as I had managed to gather on my side. We’d be doubling our numbers if they all swore to me.

“And all of them bow to you?”

“They heed my advice, that is all.”

“Where are they?” Esmelda asked. “Will you prevent us from speaking to them?” What was she getting at? Did she think some of the other demons in Gundurgun would be easier to win over?

“You are neither my prisoners nor my enemies,” Valefor said, stretching his long fingers. “If you wish to stay a while in my city and meet with the others, I will help you arrange a conference. But I can assure you, we are of one mind on this.”

“We’ll need to talk it over,” I said. “I asked your man,” I nodded to Furtur, “to see about finding supplies for my army before we go. Will you do that much for us at least?”

“If you are aiming north, I am more than happy to provide you with what you need.”

“Mostly food,” I said, “we brought a lot of monsters with us, and I don’t want them to start eating each other on the trip. Also, if you have any, I could use some sulfur.”

Valefor raised his lip. “Sulphur? I have no idea.”

The cloaked figure beside the throne had remained silent and still throughout the exchange, but now he shifted in place and spoke in a pinched voice. “That can be arranged, if my Duke wishes.” He was wearing a mask and gloves, so I couldn’t even tell if he was human.

“Excellent,” Valefor said, “The sulfur will be provided. What is it for?”

“It will help me destroy the monument.”

Esmelda started to protest, but I squeezed her hand, and she let me off with a harsh glare. Gastard stepped closer to me, “We should take our leave.”

“We’ll camp outside the city,” I said. “Whatever you intend to give us, have it brought out tonight. I expect to be gone by morning.”

“That can be arranged,” Valefor said. “Furtur, why don’t you see them out.”

“Of course,” the stag demon escorted us not only out of the grand hall but back through the city, which put a damper on our conversation. The only one to talk was Fladnag, who seemed to have been saving up his words during the audience with Valefor, and now felt the need to relieve himself of the built-up pressure.

“Salenus,” he said. “The silver spear, not silver, really, or a spear. A relic of a previous age, from before even the time of Lord Umber and Lady Nadia. An age when Kevin was young…if he was there at all. Once, there was more shadow in this world than light, and the edges were frayed. If you sailed for long enough, the waves might turn your ship upside down, and you would find yourself in the seas of chaos itself.”

We were back on our horses, and Fladnag was once again driving his wagon. Though he was at my back, I knew his next statement was directed at me. “There were crafters, like you, among others. They had a guild of sorts, and when a new hero was born into the world, they worked together to teach him how to master his gifts. They were the ones who pushed back the darkness and built the first monuments that brought stability to Plana. Salenus was one of those. It has stood more years than I could guess, weathered by wind and water, unbending. The Dark Lord tried to destroy it once, and even when there were no heroes left to protect it, he was rebuffed. If the fall of Salenus is your aim, it may be a goal beyond your reach.”

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t planning on blowing up the monument, was I? That was exactly what Bojack would want me to do, and if it won the demons of Gundurgun over, then all the better. As far as I knew, that would make us the largest single faction among the harbingers, and the rest would be sure to fall in line.

Then what? Prepare the world for the coming of the One Who Knocks? That couldn’t be my end game. And if Fladnag was who I thought he was, then it might not have to be. If he was one of the original Survivors, or Lord Umber, then I could trust him to help me contain Kevin. If there were others like him out there hiding themselves, then we might have a chance. No monsters spawned around Fladnag at night, was that because he had cut his hand off? I certainly didn’t want to resort to that for myself, but if we could stop demons from potentially coming into being around Kevin by cutting off his hand, that was a real win. I had to get Fladnag to trust me enough to be open about his past, but I wasn’t sure how to do that yet. Collapsing Salenus wasn’t going to win me any points with him, that was sure.

Gaap had brought our legion of monsters to within spitting range of the city. The monkey-faced demon had found himself a red and gold cape fit for a king, and he waved his arms excitedly when he saw us exit the city.

“You will have your supplies before the sun rises,” Furtur said, his eyes sliding past me toward Esmelda. I felt my hand clench.

“Good,” I said. “You can go.”

He walked back under the gate, and Gaap came hopping up to us as we rode closer to the army.

“How did you fare, my lord?” The ape demon asked, grinning.

“Not perfect,” I said. “Valefor wants us to knock down a monument before he’ll agree to swear to me.”

Gaap gave an amused hoot. “The wolf is always hungry. He thinks he’s the leader of the pack. Should we show him otherwise?”

“I don’t want to attack Gundurgun,” I said. “I think we would win, but I’d have to kill half the demons in there, and I’d probably lose all of you in the process. Then we’d still have Atlan to contend with.”

“Just give the word,” Gaap patted the top of his own hairy head. “I’m here to serve.” He ambled off, and Leto laughed.

“He’s a funny one.”

“He isn’t funny,” Esmelda said. “He pretends to be amiable to make us more comfortable.”

Gastard grunted in agreement. “You aren’t truly planning on destroying one of the monuments to the goddess, are you?”

“Not with my recipe, he isn’t,” Fladnag said.

The bare flakes of snow had begun to multiply, and white highlights were appearing amid the high grass in the field outside the city. So many monsters so close together, resulted in an odor equivalent to the miasma of a swamp, but a cold wind blew down from the north, and for a moment, all I could smell was clean air and frost.

“I want to meet the Orkhans,” I said. “These shamans. We may not have to be enemies.” I met Fladnag’s eyes. “With the right allies, I could consider leaving the demons behind me. What I need is another hero. Do you think some of them could still be alive?”

The old man looked down at the reins in his hand and said nothing.