Chaos Ascendant & Other Tales: Book Eleven of the Thulian Chronicles

By Art Wiederhold

Talk about ironic...

A horror almost as ancient as the universe itself is stirring after its centuries-long slumber. As it wakes, it sends out millions of demonic Minions who threaten to overrun Hell and destroy all life in their path. The only ones standing between them and Earth are the creatures of the Abyss and another, darker race, that also seeks to escape from the invaders.
As they war against each other and the Minions, they are slowly but surely being driven from their homelands.
In order to keep Earth from being devoured by the Beast, Arka-Dal and his friends must enter the Abyss and find a way to unite and fight alongside the very demons and monsters he had condemned to fight this eternal war...
In short, the Demonslayer now must become the Demon Savior!

Chaos Ascendant takes the reader on a wild, action packed ride through tortured landscapes and the lowest planes of Hell itself. It is a must read for all fans of high fantasy and the author's famed Thulian Chronicles series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Oct 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490747842

Art Wiederhold

The author of more than 35 novels, Brooklyn-born Art Wiederhold has worked at several professions, including semipro baseball player, soldier, sailor, international reporter, war correspondent, artist, chef and paranormal investigator. He currently lives in a historic house in St. Louis with his wife, Rosie; their son Conrad, Rosie’s parents, three insane cats and several documented ghosts.

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Copyright 2014 Art Wiederhold.

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isbn: 978-1-4907-4785-9 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4907-4784-2 (e)

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Contents

Chaos Ascendant

The War Machine

The Book

The Ambassador

The Head in the Jar

Chaos Ascendant

In the 56th year of the reign of Arka-Dal

Arka-Dal had just turned 78.

For 56 of those years, he had served his people as the Emperor of Thule. Despite this, there was no gray in his hair, or deep lines on his face and he still had the same speed and strength as he had at the age of 20.

The average man of the Second Age lived to be around 130 years. By now, even Arka-Dal should have shown some signs of aging.

Yet he didn’t.

Neither did any of his wives or close friends. Even Leo, his long-term mentor and advisor, who was also ten years his senior, looked the same as he always had, albeit he’d packed on a few extra pounds.

All of them looked to be around 35 or 40 years. It was as if something—or someone—had caused them to cease aging.

Arka-Dal smiled.

This was all Merlin’s doing. The wizard had magically extended their lives because he did not want Thule to go the way of Camelot. Thule was the shining light of the Second Age. Both Merlin and Gorinna feared that light might be extinguished after Arka-Dal’s death and take the rest of mankind with it.

Yes, Arka-Dal understood why Merlin had extended his life.

He accepted it, but still didn’t approve of it.

He was mulling this over as he dressed for an official meeting with a group of foreign dignitaries. He checked his reflection in the mirror and shrugged.

Just how much longer will I live? he asked aloud.

At least three to four normal lifetimes—barring accidents, came a voice from behind him.

He turned and smiled at Merlin.

Another 300 years? he asked.

Something like that. Perhaps longer, Merlin replied smugly. By then, Thule should be so well established that your passing wouldn’t bring it crashing down.

What of my children? Did you extend their lives as well? Arka-Dal asked as they walked down the hall.

I extended the lives of everyone in the Dal line, Merlin said.

Is that wise? Arka-Dal asked.

Merlin shrugged.

Only time will tell, he said. Many paths lie before each of them. It is up to them to choose which paths they will follow and endure the consequences of those choices.

Would you have done the same for Arthur? Arka-Dal asked.

No. I realized he was neither wise nor worthy enough. He was eaten up by jealousy and lust and the desire for vengeance. He was far too weak to rule. Extending his time on Earth would not have saved Camelot or the lofty ideals it pretended to aspire to, Merlin replied. Arthur started out with the best of intentions, as did I. But we all know what road good intentions pave.

But another came after him, Arka-Dal pointed out.

Yes indeed. And he helped to establish one of the greatest, most just, yet contradictory nations in human history. Those who came after him eventually brought it—and the entire First Age—to a most terrible end, Merlin said. There’s much about you that reminds me of him. You have his strength of character, his wisdom and his incorruptible nobility.

Arka-Dal laughed.

Is there anything in me that reminds you of Arthur? he asked.

Thankfully no! Merlin said with a grin.

I second that, said a female voice from behind them.

Arka-Dal smiled as Galya, his fourth wife, linked arms with him. Merlin smiled at her warmly.

Galya was the Devil’s daughter. She’d been sent by her father to try and tempt Arka-Dal into crossing over into the dark side. Instead, she fell in love with him. They soon married and she bore him two children, Hawk and Melody. Like his other wives, Galya was fiercely loyal to Arka-Dal and she loved him above all else in the universe. Even her famous father had become quite fond of him. And they respected each other.

Arthur had a nasty disposition and was prone to uncontrollable fits of rage. When his jealousy was roused, which was often, he was quite easy to corrupt. He was also weak-willed and black hearted. You are nothing at like him, my love, Galya said as they kissed. "He feigned nobility. You actually possess it."

"All this high praise might turn my head. Before long, you’ll have me believing it, Arka-Dal joked. I am no better than the next man down the street and I see things that remind me of that each and every day. It keeps me humble and appreciative."

"And that, my boy, is your greatest strength," Merlin said as he patted him on the back.

That’s one of the things that made me fall so madly in love with you, Galya smiled as she touched his cheek adoringly. No other but you could have captured my heart or earned the respect of Father. He thinks you’re quite exceptional.

That’s enough of that. Let’s go and greet our guests, Arka-Dal said as they walked out into the hall.

As usual, the palace was alive with the sounds of children at play. The eldest children, Alexander and Ivar, were now in training with Masaichi Koto, the palace weaponmaster. But they, too, liked to join the fun with their younger siblings.

Mayumi, Arka-Dal’s first wife and Empress, was proud of Alexander, who was the mirror image of his father and also had his quick mind and endless curiosity. His half brother, Ivar, looked more like his mother, Medusa but also had Arka-Dal’s deep brown eyes. He and Alexander were nearly inseparable and loved to compete against each other.

Lorco and his sister Mara, resembled their mother Chatha, the pretty warrior queen of Atlantis. Mara was more into sports and horseback riding than girl stuff while Lorco enjoyed reading anything he could lay his hands on. He was also rough and tough when he had to be. A real chip off the old block as Chatha called him.

Both Melody and Hawk had inherited Galya’s telekinetic abilities and spent much of their time testing their limits—with often hilarious results. Melody had attached herself to Lorco and used her powers to play practical jokes on him whenever she could—especially if he tried to ignore her.

Hawk palled around with young Hercemes, Arka-Dal’s adopted son—unless of course, Mut, Arka-Dal’s granddaughter was visiting. When Mut was there, Hawk followed her around like a lovesick puppy.

Mut had long dark hair, pale blue eyes and almost white skin like her mother Idut, but otherwise showed no other wraithlike traits, such as having perpetually cold skin. She was also rather bossy and opinionated and made it clear that when she was there, she was in charge. Anyone who disagreed was threatened with a knuckle sandwich. The only one she didn’t try to boss around was Alexander. In fact, she seemed rather awed by him.

And there was more.

Chatha, Arka-Dal’s youngest wife, had recently given birth to a son she named Theron after a long-ago king of Atlantis. The newborn was received with a grand celebration by the people of Thule, which included feasting, entertainment, fireworks and all sorts of sporting events—just like the births of all of the other Dal children.

And Arka-Dal had recently acquired yet another wife in the lovely Dihhuri queen, Zhijima. She had divorced Pandaar-Vli, one of Arka-Dal’s best friends in order to marry him.¹

The entire episode occurred when she caught Pandaar-Vli, her husband, rolling around on their bed with one of the palace maids. The angry and scorned Zhijima threw herself at Arka-Dal. This ignited several highly comical arguments with Pandaar and the rest of Arka-Dal’s wives who pleaded with him to marry Zhijima.

At the bottom of the stairs was a large open space furnished with large comfortable sofas, wing backed chairs, gaming tables, a bar, several hand woven rugs from Sundar and Parthia and a grand, open fireplace with a marble mantle. Above the fireplace hung the famed Excalibur which Merlin had bestowed on Arka-Dal. Next to the fireplace sat Arka-Dal’s teardrop shaped shield with the double headed eagle symbol emblazoned on it.

This was the living room.

It was informal.

Relaxing and fun to be in.

And it was the center of household activity.

This is where the children played on rainy days and where Arka-Dal gathered before and after meals with his friends and visitors to talk, play chess and throw darts. Usually, at least a half dozen cats lounged on the sofas and chairs or lay curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace.

This day was no different.

Arka-Dal and Leo met with the delegation from far away Sheba. Their enigmatic queen had sent them to Thule on what was best described as a fact finding tour. They were sent by her to learn as much as possible about Thule, its customs, inhabitants and way of life and to initiate diplomatic and possible trade relations.

Arka-Dal bade them to travel the Empire and get to know its land and people.

After you’ve learned more about us, come back to the palace. I’ll answer any and all questions you may have. Then you can decide what to do afterward, he said.

The delegates joined them for the usual lengthy family dinner and met everyone in Arka-Dal’s family and inner circle. Around midnight, a maid showed the delegates to the guest rooms and wished them good night.

Arka-Dal stayed up another hour to play chess with Leo while sipping brandy, then retired to his chambers. Leo went up after a short chat with Merlin and the palace became almost eerily quite.

Two hours passed.

Merlin was seated on the sofa in front of the fireplace sipping brandy when the rustling of fine silk caught his attention. He glanced up and watched as Galya descended the stairs clad in her robe.

Her movements were graceful and fluid as always.

She smiled when she saw him. Merlin slid over to make room on the sofa for her. She sat next to him and crossed her legs.

You’re up late, she observed.

So are you, he said.

I’m still a creature of the night. I need far less sleep than the others, she said. You seem troubled. Is there anything I can help with?

I’m not certain—yet, he responded. There’s something amiss in the grand scheme of the universe. Ned and I have been unable to put our fingers on it. Yet, I feel this is something that will prove to be highly disturbing.

This even has the Knower stumped? Now there’s a first! Galya said.

Indeed, Merlin said. I do know that it has something to do with those who dwell beyond the Abyss.

You mean the Others? Galya asked.

Merlin nodded.

He drained his glass and went to the bar to pour himself another. At the same time, he brought a glass of brandy to Galya. She accepted it with a smile as he sat back down.

What do you know about the Others? he asked.

Almost nothing, she replied. Our kind never venture into the Abyss, much less beyond it. Father says the Others are twisted, unspeakable nightmares who feast upon the souls of the dead. I do know that for the last 2,000 years they have been trying to fight their way into the Abyss.

And with good reason. Something has driven them from their world. Something dark and terrible. Something they are unable to stand against. When the Others invaded the Abyss, they drove Mephistos’ people toward our world. They invaded Earth en masse, much like the hordes of Barbarians who were driven toward Rome by stronger waves of invaders during the First Age. As nasty as the Others are reputed to be, the obvious question is who or what drives them? Merlin said.

If something is driving the Others from their plane, it must be very powerful and terrifying. The Others supposedly fear nothing. That also suggests that another world lies beyond their realm, Galya said.

"And there are many more beyond that. The universe is infinite after all. There are more worlds and parallel worlds and planes than we can possible ever count. No one can know all of them. Not even Ned," Merlin said.

Does Father know of this? Galya asked.

Yes. It is he who brought this our attention several months ago, Merlin replied. "Very little gets past your father."

Galya laughed.

"He says the same about you," she said.

Ned the Knower, was the oldest and most enigmatic being in the universe. He was tall and thin with blond hair, pointed ears and deep green eyes with uplifted brows. He looked for all the world like an Elf.

But Ned was older than the Elves.

Far older.

According to the legends, he was even older than the gods themselves and he occupied a space that was not exactly a space on a world that was not exactly a world. He could cross space and time at will, which he often did in his endless quest for knowledge.

Hence the sobriquet Knower.

It was said that he knew all that was worth knowing—and quite a bit more. Arka-Dal and Merlin considered him a good friend, albeit a sometimes frustrating one. The ever Mercurial Knower came and went as he desired and had an uncanny knack for arriving on the scene at just the right moment.

Or wrong moment, depending on one’s point of view.

Usually, when Ned made an appearance, there was trouble afoot.

This time, was no exception.

The Devil and Ned were not exactly friends.

Nor were they enemies.

Both had a grudging respect for the other and neither interfered with the other’s workings. The Devil didn’t venture into Ned’s space and Ned didn’t bother him unless he had to. So when the Knower suddenly popped into being right next to him, the Devil just about jumped out of his skin.

I come in peace! Ned announced as he raised his hand.

The Devil smiled.

I wish you’d knock or something before you just appear from nowhere, he said. To what do I owe your visit?

Something wicked this way comes, Ned replied.

Then you saw what I saw? the Devil asked.

Indeed I did. Never in all my years of existence have I beheld anything like that. Now, I understand why you brought this to my attention. It is just as you feared. Perhaps worse! Ned replied.

Then those that dwell beyond the realm of the Others have awakened the Beast? the Devil asked.

"Not yet—but the signs are there. The Minions are multiplying. Even now, they drive the Others before them and the Others seek to drive the dwellers of the Abyss before them. If the Beast fully wakes, its Minions will overrun the Abyss and eventually find their way into your domain," Ned explained.

The Devil nodded and paced the floor.

The Beast wakes to feed every 10,000 years. When it does, it devours entire worlds. It has been so long since it last stirred, I had almost forgotten about it. Even so, I never imagined it would follow this particular path, he said.

If the Beast enters the Abyss, it will devour Mephistos’ people and those who seek to drive them. If the Abyss falls, Hell and all of its vast and numerous planes, will be its next target, Ned warned.

And after that, Earth, the Devil said.

"You saw what it did to the last world it entered. That must not be allowed to happen again, Ned said. We must stop the Beast before it wakes. Before it can do the same to this Earth as it did to the countless others it left in its wake."

"I don’t know that the Beast can be stopped—but we must try, the Devil agreed. It’s time to put the plan we discussed into action. Let’s alert Merlin."

"I already have!" Ned assured him.

The next day was much like any other day in Thule. The city was alive with people conducting their daily business and visitors from every nation and race imaginable were everywhere to be seen. Thulians were accustomed to seeing foreign travelers. After all, their city was the commercial hub of the Second Age and a major draw for tourists.

But one such visitor was particularly striking.

Seated astride a cloud-white stallion, the warrior cut quite an impressive figure as he slowly rode through the crowded streets of Thule. Just about everyone stopped what they were doing to watch as he rode past and many of the women commented on his rugged good looks.

A few winked and whistled at him. A couple playfully offered to marry him.

He paid them no mind.

Michael, the last survivor of the race known as Archangels, had come to Thule for a purpose. Like many others before him, he had come to seek refuge in the Empire and to offer his sword to its famous ruler.

Michael stood seven feet tall and had a lean, muscular body. His eyes were emerald and his golden hair hung loosely about his neck and shoulders. He wore a loose-fitting blue tunic and trousers, topped by a shimmering metal breastplate and bracers. A large metal shield, bow and a quiver filled with arrows hung across his back. A heavy broadsword with a wide hand guard and a golden hilt, hung at his left hip. Everything about him screamed warrior.

In his glory days, Michael had served in the army of God with courage and honor. The War of Forever, as it was known, had lasted for thousands of years. It ended with one great, decisive battle at the edge of the universe and Michael found himself on the losing side.

He thought back to that final battle. He and a handful of loyal soldiers found themselves surrounded by a sea of demons and devils. On that fateful day, they swore an oath to each other. They would fight to the death. There could be no surrender. The forces of the Devil never took prisoners anyway. They were fighting to exterminate every last member of God’s host.

That final battle lasted for weeks.

Maybe months.

Time has no meaning in the Outer Realms. There’s no way to mark it.

In the end, only he remained.

He was badly wounded and bleeding from more than a dozen places. His wings were broken and useless. His armor and shield were battered and cracked and his arms ached from wielding his weapons. He dropped his arms and waited for the final blow. Instead, the demons bound him with strong chains and dragged him across the field to their commander, Galya.

In those days, she was the leader of the Devil’s finest legions. It was the first time he’d ever seen her up close and she looked resplendently sinister in her jet-black, gold trimmed armor and flared helmet. He expected her to order her soldiers to execute him on the spot. Instead, she ordered them to take him to her father.

And make certain he gets there unharmed if you know what’s good for you! she warned. Then she smiled at him and said, Father’s orders.

Her tone of voice was soft and calm. He detected no anger or malice in it.

His trip through the many planes of Hell were an epiphany. He realized that the Devil’s forces numbered in the billions. It was then he realized that no matter how hard or how long his side would have fought, the outcome would have been the same. Hell’s army could not be defeated. All the misery, death and destruction had been for nothing.

When they reached the last plane, the victorious demons brought Michael into the Devil’s lair and forced him to kneel before their master.

He watched as the Devil slowly approached him then stopped not two feet away.

I’ve been expecting you, the Devil said.

He was at the Devil’s mercy then. He thought he’d be cast into the fires of Hell or suffer a fate much worse.

Instead—and to Michaels’ astonishment—the Devil waved his hand and freed him from the chains. He then returned his sword, shield and bow to him and helped him to stand. Then he smiled.

The war is ended now. You may go. Live in peace, he said.

Struck dumb by this turn of events, Michael bowed his head respectfully and walked out the same way he had entered. The sea of demons parted to let him pass. No one touched him. No one said anything. They simply saluted him out of respect. Not knowing what else to do, he returned their salute and went on his way.

The Devil had spared his life and by doing so, he’d thrown the Archangel into a state of mental turmoil that left him with far more questions than answers. While all of his brethren had been slaughtered, he was the only one to be spared.

Why?

It took him centuries to find his way out of Hell. During his travels, he met and got to know many demons of all types and humor. None molested him. None insulted him. They simply allowed him safe passage out of the Lower Planes. At one point, a demonic smith repaired his damaged shield, armor and sword, but warned him that the weapon could never again be used against anyone from Hell. The smith’s craftsmanship was above reproach, too.

Everywhere he went, demons and devils greeted or saluted him. They answered any and all of his questions about Hell and the many types of people that dwelled on its many planes. He was amazed at what he learned.

And humbled.

But none could tell why the Devil had spared his life.

And Michael never understood why.

When he finally found his way out of Hell, Michael roamed the bleak landscape of Earth during the Great Darkness and realized there was still much use for his sword as he defended the tattered remnants of the human race from unspeakable horrors. He fought terrifying monsters. Destroyed countless killer machines. He slew vampires and other nasty creatures that preyed upon the helpless remnants of the human race and he watched as another civilization took root and flowered in the Valley after a century of war between several city-states.

His glory days were gone.

As were his wings.

Broken and useless, he’d had a demonic surgeon remove them centuries before. That’s when he took to riding horses. As he traveled, he rid regions of bandits, slew all sorts of hideous monsters, and rescued damsels in distress from those who would enslave them, and performed many other great and heroic deeds. His fame and fortune grew.

Some people even made up songs and poems about his exploits.

He was St. Michael, the Archangel. Protector of the weak. Slayer of the wicked.

But something was missing.

Something very important.

God had created his Archangels to serve him as elite warriors. Without someone to serve, Michael’s life had no real meaning.

No purpose.

God’s death had actually benefited the Archangel. It freed him from servitude. Freed him to go where he wished and to serve whomever he chose. For the first time in his long existence, Michael had free will.

It was the very thing the Devil had given to mankind and the very thing God tried to take away. The irony did not escape him.

But he was created to be a warrior.

A soldier.

He knew nothing else. A soldier must have someone to serve or a cause to fight for. He must have a reason to exist.

That’s when he heard about Thule and its almost legendary emperor, Arka-Dal. And the more he heard about them, the more he realized it was there he truly belonged.

Who better to serve than the famed Arka-Dal?

What better cause to protect than the most enlightened empire mankind had ever produced?

Surely Arka-Dal would accept him into the Army of Thule. Surely he would find a home there. A new purpose. A banner to stand and fight under.

And what a banner.

The double-headed eagle symbolized freedom and justice to millions of people throughout the world. Thule was what previous empires had aspired to be—and had failed so miserably to achieve. And he’d seen many of them rise and fall, from Republican Rome to enlightened Athens to Camelot and the United States. All had begun with lofty ideals and intentions. All had fallen due to corruption from within. After the fall of the United States at the start of Great Disaster, humankind had reverted to its tribal beginnings. It had taken nearly 2,000 years for men to claw their way out of the darkness and recreate the ancient city states of the First Age. And even they teetered on extinction thanks to centuries of warfare as each city-state strove for dominion over others. The Second Age might have ended before it had a chance to begin if not for Arka-Dal. This minor prince from a warring city-state had risen from near obscurity to forge the most amazing empire the world had ever seen.

Michael had spent decades studying Arka-Dal and decided he was the only person on Earth worthy enough to serve. But first he traveled to Thule to learn all he could about the Empire and its people. The more he traveled, the more he learned and the more he liked what he saw.

Thule was like no other empire or nation that came before it and its people had made it what it was. Michael had never met anyone like them.

Thulians were prosperous and happy. Proud of their Empire. And they loved their Emperor passionately. They were confident in him, his inner circle, the stability of the Empire and themselves. They were well-educated and informed thanks to a system of public schools and universities and a host of newspapers.

As he explored the nation, he never heard anyone speak badly of Arka-Dal nor blame him for their lot in life. In fact, most of the people idolized him and they adored his family as much as they did their own.

He’s one of us, was the phrase he heard most often. So’s everyone else in his family.

Thulians themselves came in all shapes, sizes, colors and races. Michael was amazed to see Alfar, Dwarfs, Mongoblins and even minor Devils and Demons wandering through the market places and along Thule’s streets. He even saw Trolls and Gnomes, which never frequented other human cities. He also encountered people from every known nation on Earth. Many were citizens. Others were merchants and tourists.

He was also surprised to see temples and churches of all denominations scattered throughout the land. Thulians were guaranteed religious freedom by their Constitution and all were welcome—as long as they obeyed the laws of the land and didn’t practice human or animal sacrifices.

There was no state or official religion. No official gods or goddesses.

And no one cared a bit about anyone’s race or religion.

In fact, Thule was a magnet for people seeking freedom from religious persecution.

Michael also decided to visit some of the military outposts and asked questions about their lives and training. He discovered that Thulian soldiers were well-paid and provided for and highly skilled and professional.

These soldiers were uncommonly loyal to Arka-Dal and the Empire. They told Michael that Arka-Dal was more than their commander-in-chief. He was one of them. He led them in the field. He ate what they ate. Lived as they lived and fought shoulder-to-shoulder with them. He would never ask his men to do anything he himself wouldn’t do and they assured Michael they would follow Arka-Dal intro Hell or anywhere else he wanted to lead them without giving it a single thought.

Arka-Dal also knew many of them by name and always stopped to speak with and encourage them when encamped. He also joked with them, sang with them, drank with them and wept for them and their families if they fell in battle.

He’s one of us—a soldier. He’ll always be one of us, one man-at-arms told him. That’s what makes him special.

Thulian engineering also amazed him.

The Empire had good, even roads that connected major cities and smaller towns to each other and to the capital. Dams, bridges and clever irrigation projects, aqueducts, and water purification plants were everywhere to be seen.

Most of the bigger cities had electric lights that were either solar powered or produced by massive hydroelectric plants. A railway system was also being constructed to make travel faster and easier. Radio and telegraph systems covered every corner of the Empire and even connected Arka-Dal to his ships at sea and close allies. And everywhere he went, he saw that businesses thrived in the open markets, seaports, shops and factories. Thulians not only imported goods from all over the world, they manufactured much of what they used themselves.

The cities and towns were neat, clean and safe. The highways were well-patrolled by cavalry units and the borders were protected by a series of small, interconnected forts and outposts.

Thule, the capital city of the Empire, was a marvel in civil and military engineering. It spanned both sides of the river and covered more than 60 square miles. The two halves were connected by a series of drawbridges that were raised to allow tall ships to sail up and down the river. During times of war, the bridges remained in the up position. On each side of the river stood rows of docks and piers. Some were private marinas containing yachts and pleasure boats. Some held warships. Most were crowded with fishing boats and trading vessels from all over the world. The docks were lined with warehouses, shops, inns and restaurants, all of which seemed incredibly busy.

Michael knew that the royal palace stood on a hill in the western half of the city. As he rode through the tall, heavy wood and iron gates, he was amazed at the height and breadth of the city’s defensive walls and towers. All were made of reinforced stone and brick and painted white with gold, blue, red and green trim. The gates were open and unguarded and led to the main avenue.

The