MYRIAD WORLDS: THE DEMON LORD GILGAMESH

CHAPTER FOUR: A Meeting

Gilgal walked away from the burning pile, keeping his distance from the tongues of flame and smoke rising from it. He didn’t bother this time with a kerchief, and neither did anybody else. He suspected their reasons must be similar to his; giving honor to the dead by not rejecting even the last embers of their sacrificed lives.

He turned to see Jedaz and the mayor still standing vigil over the burning bodies and wondered if Wharfdale will ever return to her former glory. He knew of course that the mayor had already sent a report of the events to the King, but he also knew that King Rovenard the second of Laos was never one to support what he considered lost causes. And Wharfdale could be described as nothing else now.

The guardsmen were all dead, so she was left defenseless. The fishermen were all devoured by the Demon Austinphas, and what remained of them wouldn’t be hauling any nets for the better part of a year. With the war looming, Wharfdale had no chance of making a return, especially if she waited on the support of the King.

Gilgal shook his head with a sigh. Wharfdale was the second town in the United Kingdoms to fall in the past twenty years to Demon attacks. And there was still no knowledge of the reason why. The Demons who attacked the town of Donua, Harfu, had been different from the Ngul Goner and Succubus duo this time, but they’d also played a waiting game after gutting the town, as though they were taunting the United Kingdoms.

As Gilgal thought about it more, he began to frown on his way back to Harvey.

The town of Donua had been sacked three days away from where he was at the time, and he would have been the one to terminate the Demons had Mozuzu not beaten him to the punch. Mozuzu was a traditional Purger, so he’d simply killed the Demons, paying no heed to their reasons. Now, he’d met a duo, and their actions seemed abnormal.

With a sigh, he mounted Harvey and shut off his train of thought. Thinking about it wouldn’t get him the answers he needed anyway, and even if it did, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. First, he’d need the permission of the Masters, and he still had to renew the enchantments before taking another mission. Hopefully, the answers would come after the winter, he hoped.

A flicker in his peripheral vision made him turn, and with a smile, he returned the salute from Jedaz before spurring Harvey into a trot.

In order to o avoid passing through the Slodoroon Territories, he’d have to cross the River Nialli miles before the decommissioned bridge, and that’d make his journey two days longer than it had to be. Not to add the charge the ferrymen would demand for the simple crossing. Harvey was already well rested and fed in the few hours after his duel, thanks to Jedaz, so he wouldn’t have to rest anytime soon.

He was hours outside Wharfdale, and along the long stretch of road to the next town of Foxwood, Laos, when his breathing quickened for no identifiable reason. He immediately brought Harvey to a halt, and dismounted. The air currents changed their direction suddenly, picking up the light dusting of fallen leaves on the dirt road, twirling them about before blowing them into the forests by the side of the road.

Gilgal unfastened his scabbarded sword from Harvey and gave him a pat to send him trotting off into the forests. He could feel his breathing grow labored and felt the tingling of fear in his limbs. He had an understanding of what was coming and wouldn’t want to lose his focus midway. The same sensations, magnified by a dozen, had occurred 300 years ago in Poles.

He fastened the sword belt around his waist with practiced efficiency as his senses flared outwards. His head swiveled from side to side as he skirted the ground of the open road, drawing his sword in a smooth motion, and making sure that it hummed through the air in a direction at odds with his footing.

Then suddenly the wind seized.

It was so sudden that his rhythm was interrupted, and he jerked his head behind him, and hopped away at the same time that a delicate hand shot out of the air where his head had been.

Gilgal landed on the balls of his feet and thought better about delivering a counter attack on the slowly fading hand. That thought saved him from the fist that shot out after him next. He was quick enough to deflect it off the flat of his blade, but the force still sent him stumbling back.

His heart rate spiked as he came to the sudden realization that this wasn’t anything like Poles 300 years ago. It was someone stronger coming after him.

When the Demon Princes and Princesses had come after them then, the wind had acted strangely too, but those Princes and Princesses had not packed as much power as this assailant did. That made him wonder if perhaps, a Demon Lord had crossed over, but he quickly discounted that. No Demon Lord would cross over with such small signs as a herald. Besides, a Demon Lord wouldn’t bother exchanging blows with him at all. He’d be dead already.

He arrested his backward momentum and quickly fell into a Gebo stance, anchoring his senses and magic. He had over 30% affinity with Rhaido, meaning an enormous store of magical energy within his body – already more than that of Purgers, Cambions or Mages of his age – but he now felt inadequate. If even a Demon Prince could outclass him to this extent, then wasn’t it suicide to even contemplate going to the Lower Aether? But this thought only lasted a second before the effects of the stance sealed it away.

“Tsk tsk. Not impressive at all.”

Gilgal sharpened his ears to the voice, but still failed to detect its source. Besides, it seemed more like a projection directly into his mind than any spoken word, and that made him wary. Only the Masters had been able to do that when he was already in the Gebo stance, and this was definitely no Master.

“Who are you?” he asked aloud, warily.

“You are the Purger Knight, Gilgamesh of Nur, are you not?” the voice asked, speaking directly into his mind again.

Gilgal finally placed the feelings he got from the voice. It reminded him of Winter and lavender blooms. That odd and unique combination was intoxicating and he felt his limbs growing weak, just as an alarm sounded in his mind with a thundering roar.

He jerked awake and roared his defiance as his sword skirted an arc, aiming for the materializing figure of a woman. He heard a surprised gasp, then his sword hissed through air, tearing the condensing wind column to shreds.

Now, he was truly afraid and furious. His assailant was a Succubus, and she was a very powerful one, able to affect his mind, albeit for a few seconds, and easily toying with him. If his elusive passenger hadn’t woken him up on time, he would have been at the mercy of the succubus already.

The weakening of the enchantments on his medallion and gauntlets had proved advantageous at that moment, allowing the interference of the passenger. If the passenger had still been suppressed, then there was no telling if the protection offered by the enchantments alone would have sufficed to save him from the Succubus’ clutches.

“Hmm,” the voice sighed, just before the wind imploded a few paces ahead of him, and a woman walked out.

The woman was as stunning as all the other succubi he’d ever seen, but there was something about her that filled his head with thoughts of perfection. He couldn’t place it, especially given the fact that she wasn’t in any way more physically attractive than most of the women he’d met before.

Her skin was very pale, in clear contrast to Nur Haley’s caramel complexion, and her lips were thinner too. But he still couldn’t look away easily, and it wasn’t magic.

The woman wore a gold-embroidered red dress that covered up her feet, accentuating curves and further highlighting the paleness of her skin. A cascade of jet black hair tumbled down pale shoulders, ending just behind the knees. The woman’s fingers were delicate in appearance, but the exposed parts of her body testified to strength in the streamlined bands of muscles visible at rest.

Gilgal’s eyes trailed down the exposed neckline to the cleavage and he swallowed audibly. His blood suddenly felt warmer in his vessels and his focus wavered.

The woman – the Demon Princess, Yvaine Regina Immortalis – cocked her head slightly to the side, as though studying a curious specimen. Then she spoke again, “I thought your enchantments are already failing, so how were you able to resist me?”

“Who are you?” Gilgal asked. His wariness had risen another level. There was no doubt in his mind now that the creature before him was a Demon Princess of unfathomable powers, and acting recklessly might just cost him his life.

The succubus spared him a glance, peering into his eyes instead of continuing her unabashed appraisal of his body, then a smile tugged the corner of her lips upward. “Who I am is of less importance here, than who you are,” she said.

Gilgal noticed that with voiced speech, the enchantment of winter and lavender had fled, and her voice was simply husky with a slight inflection that spoke of mischief and assurance. She sounded like any other woman of high social status he’d ever spoken to.

“I was just passing through, with no plan of searching you out, but here you are. When I heard that Carilliene the tenth had a child with a human, I couldn’t believe it, but I can smell her on you,” the succubus continued, still smiling. She suddenly moved and Gilgal followed her with his eyes, keeping his sword ready.

“You disappoint me, though. Your mother wasn’t that impressive, granted, but you’re a disgrace to her, Gilgamesh. I wonder, can this weakness be from your father, then, or are you just mediocre? You don’t even embrace your Demon lineage. Tsk tsk. Tell me–”

Gilgal blinked and she was gone. His mind trembled and he flared out his senses. She appeared for a moment, then vanished again to reappear where she’d been standing, with a line of blood trailing down her index finger. Gilgal hissed and clamped his free hand to his neck, caressing the small puncture she’d left there.

“–This indeed contains Demon blood, but I wonder…have you met your father?” Yvaine continued as though she hadn’t even moved mid sentence. She brought her fingers to her tongue reverently and took a lick, frowning. “I don’t believe this is Human blood, Gilgamesh. Who are you exactly?”

“I’m your executioner!” Gilgal spat at her, abandoning all fear. He was beyond angry now. What was her game? Even if she were the Demon Lord Lilith herself, he had his pride as a Purger and human to consider, and easily taking and licking his blood was an affront he couldn’t ignore.

His fist tightened on his sword and he vanished. He’d adopted the starting stance of Rhaido’s fury before his move, and his speed was beyond what it was earlier. The slash was so fast that it had already come within an inch of the succubus before she yelped, dissipating into air.

His missed strike didn’t knock him off balance, and he spun with the momentum, coming around with sword raised. He exhaled, switching with difficulty to the Lagar stance, muscles and bones feeling almost fluid. He was of the Rhaido sect in the Order, not the Lagar sect, so lightning was more his forte than the slippery nature of water. But to triumph over a succubus so proficient at air magic, he needed the fluidity of water more than the speed and explosive force of lightning.

Adopting the stance took too much of his concentration, but it was the right decision as he was able to react immediately to the succubus’ reemergence. His wrist twisted in an impossible angle, sending the tip of his sword striking behind him before his body turned. He followed the thrust with a diagonal cut.

But again he missed.

The succubus appeared about 15ft from him, smiling again. Her eyes radiated her condescension and amusement. She took a step forward and chuckled. “I only took a sample, and you’re already losing your composure, Gilgamesh. Tsk tsk. Aren’t you even the least bit curious?”

Gilgal forced a smile unto his face in silent reply to her provocation. He’d already noticed something. Just then with her walk, he was sure he’d seen a slight movement of her free hand, as though to protect her side. He now wondered if she’d been moving about with the wind, not just to infuriate him, but also because she was concealing a disabling wound? He smiled the himself.

“Taking a sample of my blood is not your right, Demon.”

“Oh?”

“Who are you, and why are you here?”

The succubus sighed, and the smile vanished from her face to be replaced by disappointment. “You’re asking the same question again. I already told you that I was passing through. The real question you should be asking is what fate awaits you. I’ve been cut off from humanity in a while, but I seem to remember that Cambions aren’t allowed to be Purgers. So how are you one of them?”

“I swore the oath like all the others, Demon!”

“Your mother would be disappointed, Gilgamesh.”

“Sucks for her then.”

Yvaine cocked her head again, studying him. “Ah, so you don’t care for her. Shame. Mother would have loved to torture you with news of her torture. She’s been looking for you, you know? I wonder what she’d say if I told her you’re a Purger Knight.”

Gilgal fell silent. Having Lilith paying special attention to him did not fill him with warm feelings at all. Even discounting her status as a Demon Lord, she was rumored to have been the companion of the Prince.

The succubus laughed. “Fear not. I’m not in her good graces now, either. But I’m still curious about something. Why doesn’t your blood smell or taste Human at all, Gilgamesh? What exactly are you?”