Whence Chaos Born

By E. A. Rappaport

Toth, a powerful necromancer, has convinced the suffering realm that their devastation has been brought on by warring demon princes who reign over the netherworld. In an effort to cease the fighting and restore balance to the universe, the legendary knight, Hermod, has been summoned to end the war. With an unlikely band of wizards and bandits by his side, Hermod begins the dangerous journey into the netherworld, with the fate of the world on his shoulders.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. A. Rappaport
• Release date: Jul 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9781941042076

E. A. Rappaport

E. A. Rappaport graduated from Massachusetts Institute of Technology with degrees in Computer Science and Electrical Engineering. He works as a software engineer for a financial services consulting firm in New York City. Rappaport co-founded StatCard Entertainment, the first company to combine smart card technology with trading cards and internet games. He is a lifelong resident of Orange, CT.

Book preview

Chapter I

Unrest in the Netherworld

Dis glided through fountains of magma on his way toward the Black River, which meandered between the Lava Plains and the Hills of Rain. His long legs carried him from one hexagonal island to the next, easily avoiding occasional bursts of molten stone in the narrow channels between solid ground. He knew the Guardians of the River wouldn’t ferry him across, but they’d better let him pass on his own, or he wouldn’t take responsibility for his subordinates.

For some reason, an entire legion of broga scouts had passed through two other realms and attacked the Guardians of the Rain. As a violation of an ancient pact, this transgression could bring the wrath of all the other princes upon Dis. Someone was to blame for this, someone who would suffer eternal torture as punishment.

Dis slowed his pace as he approached the Black River and stared into the morass of disembodied spirits and lost broga. Anyone powerful enough to separate the broga from the rest of the river would have enough loyal minions to rule the entire netherworld, but Dis wasn’t foolish enough to attempt such a feat. The result of failure would be a lifetime of imprisonment, devoid of all hope, in the black depths of the river. He shivered just thinking about such a dismal fate.

In the distance, the misty edge of the neighboring realm obscured his view. Why did his scouts violate the long-standing truce and attack the guardians? There was nothing to gain without control of the river, which was an unlikely proposition.

A robed ferryman stopped his boat several paces from the shoreline. His skeletal fingers clung to a stone pole as he turned to face Dis. A pair of yellow eyes glowed from within his dark hood. Several paces away, another boat drifted closer. The river guardians were clearly displeased with the recent events.

Dis could risk flying to the other side, but if the boatmen confronted him halfway across, they might drag him into the river’s murky depths. The river guardians were extremely protective of their right to decide who was allowed to travel through their realm, but they had to realize this was a special situation, one that had to be resolved quickly.

I already know you won’t offer me a ride across, said Dis, but at least allow me to pass into the rain without incident. The longer it takes to determine what happened, the worse the outcome will be for everyone involved.

The second boat stopped beside the first. Each ferryman held his stone pole in the water, anchoring the vessel against the slow yet powerful current. As more boats appeared, the river guardians remained silent yet effectively relayed their feelings. They obviously didn’t trust Dis, and he felt the same way about them.

He held up his arms and opened his clawed fists.

I did not send any of my broga against the Realm of Rain, he said. And unless you care to start a new skirmish here on the riverbank, I suggest you let me pass. I could summon two score riders with a single wave. Even with my lieutenant gone, they’ll obey me without question.

The ferrymen must have known he was innocent. He was far more intelligent than whoever had led this pointless foray. A dozen boats lined up, blocking Dis from an easy crossing. Did the boatmen think he was considering defying the ancient agreement between the princes? They knew how strong he was. Why else would they show up in such force? Besides, the river should have been part of his realm from the beginning.

As if they could sense his thoughts, two boats in front of him separated, allowing him passage to the other side. Although he preferred not to waste any of his energy, he summoned a strong wind below his body and carried himself a few inches above the black water. As he passed between the two boats, he ignored the ferrymen but still felt their gaze upon him. If they hadn’t been protected by his pact, he would have sunk them, even though the delay had only been a few moments. He kept his gaze on the horizon, never looking down, as he slipped into the adjacent realm.

The dreadful rain began as soon as he alit on the other side of the river, stinging his cracked skin wherever a drop touched his body. Thankfully, he’d brought protection.

Wake up! he said, smacking the lump of flesh clinging to his side. Shield me from this torture.

A small broga poked its head out from a set of rolled-up wings. Dis thought these creatures had been called gliders once, but it was too long ago to remember. Humans referred to every netherworld being as a demon, a despicable term, but he and this creature were as different as rocks to water. The little glider crawled up his body, digging its tiny talons into him with every step, and grabbed onto the pair of horns on atop Dis’s head.

Go on, he said. Stop delaying or I won’t let you feed later.

The creature spread its enormous wings, blocking every raindrop from reaching him. A constant chorus of squeaky moans meant the glider didn’t care for its new position, but Dis ignored its pleas as he hiked through the Realm of Rain. Although the sky remained a constant shade of light gray, the rain became heavier, the hills grew larger, and the shades appeared.

Spirits of many different creatures, mostly human, wandered aimlessly through the hills, unaware of where they were or why they were there. Occasionally, some of them ventured between realms, at which point Dis would recruit them into his armies, but for now, he avoided contact with them. They were useless to him while they were in such a confused state of mind.

Not far from the tallest of the hills, a wall of black spread across the horizon, separating this realm from the Realm of Darkness. In the distance, the sound of angry barks and sharp screeches rang out. Dis increased his pace until he reached the battle, where dozens of his advance scouts, huge frog-shaped broga, were attacking the Guardians of the Rain, each of which resembled oversized hounds. The frog broga had always been the most strong-willed of his legions, making them good candidates for scouting missions into enemy territory, but they were difficult to control. Frequently, he had to stop himself from killing them all, and this time wasn’t any different.

He dug his claws into his palms and marched to the center of the battle, trampling a few frog scouts along the way. If it weren’t more important to find the cause of this disobedience, he would have eliminated his own legion on the spot. Two creatures were about to tear at each other just ahead. Dis leaped forward, catching the guardian’s sharp teeth on one arm and grabbing the frog broga with the other. He threw them each back about twenty paces. The guardian, taller than him and at least ten times his weight, let out a rumbling growl that shook the ground.

Enough, Dis shouted as he faced his scouts. Who commanded you to attack this realm?

The disobedient broga hopped back to its feet and said, You did, Sire. We were only following your orders.

Unable to contain his rage, Dis tore out the scout’s tongue and tossed it aside. The creature’s harsh wail pierced the air before coming to a gurgling end. Dis wiped his hand on the underside of his glider’s wing, while the frog scout curled into a ball on the ground.

Do not lie to me, Dis thundered. I said no such thing.

The rest of the fighting stopped immediately when his angry gaze fell on the other combatants. In the past, his scouts had never lied about their actions, and it was unsettling that they’d begun now, so soon after his second in command had disappeared. Somehow, a group of humans had snuck into the netherworld and taken Obidicut, probably to be imprisoned in their world. They’d pay for their actions once Dis found a way to track them down.

We’ll leave your realm in peace, he said to the guardian hounds and sent them away with a wave of his hand. I’ll return these troublemakers to the Lava Plains and punish them appropriately.

As the hounds disappeared into the hills, the scouts gathered in a circle around him. Although they looked repentant, he knew they’d enjoyed this outing. He had to ensure no more incidents like this ever happened again. The other princes would never leave him alone if they thought he was unable to control his own subjects.

You have one rev to deliver the instigator of this attack to me, he told his scouts. After that, I’ll throw you all into the Pit, starting with this one.

He scooped the writhing broga into his arms and left the rest of them to complete their new mission.

Do not let me find any of you outside of my realm or you’ll wish I only ripped out your tongues.

Dis returned to his city in the middle of the Lava Plains after changing his mind about the tongueless scout. Instead of dumping the creature into the Pit, he jammed it into the bottom of the city gates, which were composed of hundreds of lost spirits and insubordinate broga. This way it could still serve some purpose. The mass of tormented flesh that formed a barrier between the inner city and the desolate plains was a stark warning against disobeying Dis’s command. His word was absolute law.

He’d built his namesake city on a set of ancient ruins, after a long war between the broga princes. Constructed from bones and volcanic stone, the buildings had sunk partially into the ground, causing each of them to rise at strange angles into the sky. A wall of bones surrounded the city, rising and falling as it curved around the oddly shaped buildings. An uncountable number of broga had perished in the fierce battles of the ancient war, but their remains were forever enshrined in the wall.

Although the war between the princes had occurred so far in the past that many didn’t remember it, jealousy and animosity still dominated the emotions of the elite. Dis had carved out a larger realm than his rivals and had held onto it for ages through a combination of battle skills and alliances. Now that Obidicut was gone, however, he was positive the other princes, especially his neighbor Mammon, would be eager to take advantage of his temporary weakness. Fortunately, it would require more than just ambition to topple his reign. He was the strongest and most resourceful of the broga princes. If it were possible, he might even turn the loss of his commander into an opportunity to strengthen his reign.

He summoned a pair of high-ranking riders to the top floor of his favorite tower. The meeting chamber was open to the sky and had a clear view from the Ice Mountains to the Black River. Most guests who joined him on the roof became disoriented, complaining that the landscape was constantly changing, but they had no idea what they were seeing. It was their own weak wills that allowed their surroundings to rule their lives, but Dis knew how to control his corner of the world. Nobody would ever steal that from him.

Only one of the riders appeared at first. He was taller and thinner than Dis, with a triangular head and gaunt body. His taut skin was wrapped so tightly around his torso that Dis could see every bone. It was clear this rider preferred to be on the ground atop his mount as he leaned heavily on a long spetum with every step.

Dis scowled at him. If the rider couldn’t control his own mind, how would he be able to command an entire legion of broga? The rider steadied himself and stood up straight, gaining another few inches. He remained motionless while awaiting his orders.

The second rider stepped through the door and collapsed before he took five paces onto the roof. Dis grabbed the newcomer’s polearm, speared it through his body, and heaved him over the side of the tower to the streets far below. This made his decision to appoint a new lieutenant much easier.

You must have heard about the scouts, he said to the first rider.

Only rumors. The rider peeked at the edge of the roof. They disobeyed you and may be headed to the Pit.

They attacked the Guardians of the Rain, claiming that I gave them the order.

But that would have been a violation of—

I know, growled Dis. Did they think I’d forget giving them such an inane command?

He struggled to keep his anger in check, taking a deep breath of the sulfurous air.

I have enough trouble with the others eyeing my realm, he said. It’ll be a long time before I’m ready to expand my reach, although the river guardians could use a lesson.

Then perhaps it was Mammon, said the rider. I’ve heard you two are related.

I’m not Mammon, if that’s what you’re implying.

Perhaps you’re just similar enough to confuse a bunch of simple-minded scouts.

A huge eruption of lava spewed up from the plains outside the northern wall, sending a spray of hot ash onto the city. Dis strolled to the edge of the building and leaned over. The shades wandering the dark streets avoided the dust, while several types of broga rushed forward to bathe within it. Dis smiled. There was an endless supply of magma outside the city, but he’d convinced his citizens of the dangers beyond the wall. They moved only when he told them to move.

It would only make sense if Mammon planned to attack me soon, said Dis as he paced toward the other side of the roof. Pull my forces away from here and pick them off one at a time, but he’s too weak to defeat me, and he knows I’d reinforce my troops if any were lost to the rain.

The rider tilted his polearm, forcing Dis to come to halt.

I heard another rumor, whispered the rider while scanning the horizon, as if there were a spy watching them. Mammon is going after the Pit. Do you have any idea what that means?

Geryon. Dis’s initial laughter quieted down to a nervous chuckle. He hopes to find Geryon.

Who?

A foolish prince who thought the Pit held the answer to ruling this entire world. Geryon voluntarily threw himself down, planning to return and conquer us all. Instead, he became lost forever in that abyss, and he’ll soon be joined by Mammon. If I had any worries before, they’re gone now.

He wished he could believe that statement, but Mammon was too clever to sacrifice any of his lives. There had to be something more to this story. He gave the rider a nudge toward the staircase.

Come, let’s gather the captains, he said. I’ve decided to promote you to first lieutenant during Obidicut’s absence.

Many thanks, Sire. You won’t be disappointed.

Chapter II

A New Life in Tharain

Hermod blocked the sword coming at him and countered with his own lunge, but either Gwenn was too fast or he was getting old. She dodged left, knocked his arm away, and slashed at his side. Her dulled blade scraped harmlessly against his sparring armor but wounded his pride. He’d never lost a match against her or anyone else since he completed his training as a young boy.

What’s wrong with you today? asked Gwenn. Her light brown hair had grown down to her shoulders, but she’d cut it short in the front so it wouldn’t get in the way of her vision. Did eating so much food at the ceremony slow you down?

That was weeks ago, said Hermod.

Gwenn backed away and held her sword in front of her body. She was tall and muscular, a former commander in the Tharain army before the Great War. Hermod had met few warriors as skilled with a sword as she was and none that could challenge him.

You don’t have to go easy on me just because I’m your wife now. She flicked the blade at him. Let’s try it again, but this time, put some effort into it, old man.

Hermod took a deep breath and ran his fingers through the grizzled hairs on the side of his head. Although he wasn’t as lean as he used to be, he was still stronger than most men half his age. He readied his sword and went on the offense. Gwenn seemed to be distracted by talking too much, a weakness he’d use to gain the advantage and teach her a quick lesson. He cared for her too much to lose her in some future battle because of avoidable disruptions. As soon as he disarmed her, he’d chastise her for talking when she should have been concentrating on her opponent. There was peace now, but war was only an ambitious and charismatic leader away.

After a heavy downward swipe followed by left and right jabs, he closed in for a finishing blow to her abdomen. Just before he was ready to claim victory, Gwenn dropped her weapon and held her stomach with both hands. She looked up at him, an expression of extreme discomfort clear on her face.

I hadn’t even touched you yet, he said.

Worried, he tossed his sword aside and placed his hands on her shoulders.

Are you hurt? What happened?

It’s nothing…

She pushed him away, spun around, and fell to her knees. Hermod hoped she hadn’t caught one of the fevers that seemed to be spreading around town. Many citizens died before they received appropriate treatment, and the fact that most of the homes were still in shambles from the most recent war didn’t help anyone’s recovery. Until the town could be properly rebuilt, the population was in danger, be it from disease, wild animals, or roving gangs of bandits.

I’ll fetch the apothecary, he said. I’m sure he’ll have something to soothe your stomach.

No need. Gwenn was hunched over the ground but put up a hand to stop him from coming any closer. I’ll be fine in a minute. I just need a moment to catch my breath. Go in for breakfast, but don’t start eating without me. It wouldn’t be polite.

She gave him a partial grin that warmed his entire body.

Hermod was torn. He wanted to help her, but she seemed adamant about handling this on her own. She’d always been independent and disobeying her request would only make her angry.

I’ll bring the sparring blades in when I’m ready, she said and waved him away.

Someone with a fever wouldn’t have offered to do chores. With one final glance at her, he headed into the kitchen. He wasn’t a skilled cook, but he knew enough to make a light meal, one that wouldn’t upset her digestion. There had been no chefs in the castle since the Ferfolk had slaughtered everyone. He could have asked one of the servants to prepare something tastier, but he never felt comfortable giving them orders. Although he’d commanded legions of soldiers in times of war and peace, this was a different situation. He didn’t know if it was appropriate for a chamber maid to handle dishes or if a groomsman was allowed to spend time away from the stables. Gwenn would understand. She wasn’t much different from him. Her family had wanted her to become the wife of a nobleman, but she’d chosen the path of a warrior instead.

He wandered into the pantry, passing his hands over sacks of barley, oats, and wheat flour. After he’d retired from the army, the late King Cyllin had granted him a large farm in recognition for his years of service. Learning about sowing seeds and tending crops interested him for a short time, but watching plants grow could never compete with the thrill of battle. As soon as he picked up a sword after his extended hiatus, he knew he’d never return to farming.

I thought you were taking care of the food. Gwenn’s voice echoed from down the corridor. I’m hungry.

With a smile, Hermod gathered an armful of day-old bread, hard cheeses, and cured meats. He was glad she felt better and looked forward to a quiet meal together before starting their short trip south to Kroflund. The small city had been devastated during the war, and he couldn’t allow the citizens to rebuild on their own while he relaxed in the castle. Whenever he had spare time, he traveled to the city and assisted with the reconstruction in any way he could.

Hermod and Gwenn remained in Kroflund longer than expected. They carried lumber to carpenters, laid bricks with masons, and brought food and drinks to their fellow workers. Hermod would have stayed another few weeks, but Gwenn reminded him more than once that they were on a schedule and that he could return after their guests had left. They made it back to Castle Tharain just in time to greet their visitor. Despite his advanced age, King Zairel had traveled from Zairn to visit his neighbors, and in addition to his contingent of guards and advisers, he’d brought an unexpected but welcome guest: Falgoran, the Arboreal commander of the war-cat legion.

The Arboreals were a green-skinned race from the dense forests to the south. Typically reclusive, they rarely ventured outside the jungle, but Falgoran had formed a close friendship with Zairel during the Great War. The two had traded many stories of their respective people and had decided to travel throughout the remains of the five kingdoms together. Hermod agreed with Zairel’s advisers that he shouldn’t have been exerting himself, but with Falgoran at his side, safety wouldn’t be an issue, especially if they kept to the wooded areas. Arboreals shared a special bond with trees and were undefeatable in their environment.

Your Majesty, said Hermod with a slight bow, it’s good to see you again.

Zairel broke free from his pack of guards and rushed forward. His white hair flew in all directions and his skin was almost as wrinkled as a Ferfolk’s.

Great Hermod Dragonslayer, he said, grabbing him by the arms. It’s war! We’re all in danger. Every one of us.

The king’s chief adviser stepped forward and put a firm hand on Zairel’s shoulder.

Sire, he said, the Ferfolk have been defeated. I assure you the war is over, and our victory was mainly due to your leadership.

He gently pried the king away from Hermod and ushered him into the castle, followed by the rest of his men. Falgoran, however, lagged behind to greet both Hermod and Gwenn. Tall and thin with long green hair and pale green skin, he returned their bow and formally announced his arrival in Arboreal tradition for the next several minutes.

We’ve met before, said Hermod when he was done, more than once.

But this is my first time at your home, said Falgoran, and hopefully not my last.

Most certainly not, said Gwenn. Do come in.

She stepped toward the entrance but Falgoran held her back with a tap on her arm.

I’m worried about King Zairel, he said.

As are we. He shouldn’t have made such a long trip at his age.

No, not his physical condition. I’m concerned about his frequent mentions of war. His advisers are positive he believes the Great War hasn’t ended, but I disagree. I’ve asked him for more details, but his memory of recent events is spotty. He winds up acquiescing to his advisers and dropping the subject. Listen to him carefully while he’s here and tell me what you think.

We will, said Hermod. But first, come in and rest. I bet the boat ride wasn’t as comfortable as a good tree branch.

You’d win that bet. I’m glad to be off the water.

 Hermod knew Falgoran would have preferred to rest in the trees surrounding the castle, but the Arboreal followed him inside, graciously accepting his hospitality. The Arboreals were peaceful and polite, showing ferocity only when defending their home or their neighbors. Hermod hoped it wouldn’t be necessary for them to show that side of their personalities anymore.

They heard King Zairel’s shouts as soon as they stepped through the entryway. The king’s voice echoed from the antechamber to the great hall, where he stood on a chair by an open window, with his advisers attempting to coax him down.

It’s terrible, he said. The desolation. I’ve never seen such destruction.

When his advisers reached up to grab him, he leaped over their arms onto the floor, displaying too much spryness for his age, and dashed toward Hermod.

Gather the heroes, he said. Before it’s too late. Nobody can defeat you, Dragonslayer. We might yet survive.

Hermod glanced at Gwenn, who seemed about to placate the old king, and nodded toward the advisers. Without any words exchanged, she knew what he wanted and placed herself between