Origin of Evil

By Sinistral

 

 

Part Three: Pandemonium

 

Chapter Three: Aftermath

 

 

“Who in Ra’s name is Lord Tartarus?” asked Horus.

 

“Tartarus is the Lord of the Netherworld, the vile Dark Lord of the East,” stated the Book of Creation. “Somehow Menas and Lord Tartarus must have met and agreed to work together. Lord Tartarus rules over the foulest realm of all, the terrible Netherworld. Long have I known of its existence but never have I believed it to be a threat to us.”

 

“But is it?” asked Iras, sounding more than a little worried.

 

“Not as far as I can see,” replied the Book. “By discovering the centre of Menas’s power I have found a way to block all spells from both the Demon Realm and the Netherworld. Menas travelled back into the Spirit World through a portal. That portal was opened using the legendary Time Staff of Corriarmandu.”

 

The royal couple looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. They were beginning to understand the depth of Menas’s hatred and cunning. The Book continued.

 

“Corriarmandu is the ancient Dimension Master and an old friend of mine. The Time Staff must have been stolen from him. It is now in the hands of the Black Union – the forces of both Menas and Lord Tartarus combined. The potential for malice and destruction is unlimited.”

 

“But surely such evil must be prevented?” said Horus. “The iniquity of the Black Union cannot not be allowed to spread.”

 

“We cannot keep track of everything that Menas does my lord. But his failure today will be a great setback for him. He has not achieved what he intended to.”

 

“You mean that he did not intend to kill mother and father?” said Iras.

 

“Oh yes he did. But we are still here and he is not. He wanted us all destroyed so that he could claim lordship over this world. He is back where he started again, with the slight addition of his sons. Their part in this is was to aid their father. They too have failed.”

 

“But where did Menas gain his new powers that were able to stop even you?” asked Horus.

 

“His ‘new powers’ are through his alliance with Lord Tartarus. Menas and all his powers cannot match mine, but with new spells and incantations that I am unfamiliar with, he has found a certain chink in my armour. The ghastly powers of the Netherworld are cunning and extremely subtle. The ones who devise them spend all eternity working to find the weaknesses in all that is good and virtuous. With these powers at hand, Menas assumed that he would win. He has not. However, it was the powers of Lord Tartarus and his minions that saved him today.”

 

“But where does this all stem from?” implored the young Queen. “Why was he so determined to overthrow us? Why did he hate us so much?”

 

“Now that I fully understand the situation I will explain.”

 

The Book of Creation began to tell them of the prophecy that surrounded Menas and his so-called ‘fall from grace’. He spoke of Menas’s desire for power and his pact with Lord Tartarus. The Book finally came to the subject of the King and Queen’s cousins.

 

“Abydos and his brothers are known as the Unholy Quaternity. They are attached to an ancient prophecy that surrounds the world of men.”

 

“Yes, the Planet Earth,” said the King, “But it is now in the hands of mortals. They still worship us Gods, but are no longer ruled by us. Armon is Pharaoh and he has constructed his capital city in Thebes, an early Earth settlement, now in the land of Egypt. Father told me that we Gods should make it our business to inform the people of Earth of any particular hierarchical changes. The information is delivered to Pharaoh in his dreams. Mortals take dreams very seriously.”

 

“And you must make sure that Pharaoh is informed of what has taken place this night,” said the Book. “Osiris, Isis, Thoth and Anubis are all gone, spirits at rest in the Duat. They will still be worshipped as Charmian still is. Menas is well known on Earth as the traitor of the Gods, the usurper. His name is defiled. It is not spoken.”

 

“And that it shall remain, along with his sons.”

 

“That is where I must continue. You may find this difficult to comprehend but you must try. I mentioned before that the Unholy Quaternity is attached to an ancient prophecy connected to the Planet Earth. The prophecy spoke of spirits in an eternal struggle. Four primordial spirits of good and evil watch over the Earth. The Ancient Spirits of Goodness protect the Earth from anything that might threaten its peace and harmony. The Ancient Spirits of Evil, on the other hand, try to root out all the wickedness they can find, stirring up evil thoughts among weak-willed mortals and finding ways to bring war and misery to the world. The battle of the spirits has been a well-known prophecy for eons. When it shall begin is not as certain. Only this is known.”

 

The Book began to quote:

 

“When the people of the Earth turn to evil, the Ancient Spirits of Goodness shall come to rescue the planet in its time of great need. To prevent the Ancient Spirits of Goodness from achieving their goal, the Ancient Spirits of Evil will do all that is in their power to harbour the evil already rampant among the Earth. So shall begin the great battle of the spirits. The battle will wage until galactic pandemonium shall bring all to a close.”

 

Horus and Iras simultaneously inhaled and exhaled. The new information was too much to take in at once. However, there was more to come.

 

“I have discovered, to my great surprise, that the Unholy Quaternity are the ones destined to battle against the good that seeks to protect the Planet Earth. They are the prophesied Ancient Spirits of Evil.”

 

“But how can you be sure?” asked Horus.

 

“A prophecy is not just a mere prediction of events to come Horus. It states the truth and nothing less. How such prophecies are interpreted is down to the individual mind. Not everyone reads them in the same fashion, so to speak.”

 

Horus nodded, not satisfied with the answer but prepared to forfeit any further information by remaining silent. He was sure that the Book spoke the truth. After all, it had been the faithful and effective advisor of both his father and grandfather. Who was he to question it?

 

“And this is where I am concerned,” continued the Book. “All benevolent worlds have a malevolent counterpart. The Spirit World, in which you are the King, is the direct opposite of the Demon Realm, where Menas rules. And since the Unholy Quaternity are of the Demon Realm…”

 

“Their counterparts must be here in the Spirit World,” finished Iras.

 

“Exactly!” cried the Book. “You have it! These counterpart spirits, as you refer to them, are officially called the Sacred Four.”

 

The Book stopped. Horus looked towards his wife. She had a strange expression on her face. It displayed a mixture of thoughtfulness and disbelief, as if there was something that she knew but could not believe it to be true.

 

“What is the matter Iras?”

 

“Something happened earlier on,” she began. “When Menas attacked me I fell unconscious. The next thing I knew I was on the nursery floor. I felt warm and revitalised, as if someone was breathing new life into me. It was then that I noticed what was happening. It was the children.”

 

“What?” cried Horus, clearly not expecting the answer.

 

“The children had saved me. They gave me new strength to help you when you were at Menas’s mercy. I swear that I do not lie. They have a special power Horus, a special power for good.”

 

“And I see it,” said the Book of Creation. “Four daughters. Four spirits. It makes perfect sense now.”

 

“No it certainly does not,” contradicted Horus. “They have yet to learn about power and its uses. They cannot be those you spoke of in the prophecy. It feels to me all too capricious. The importance you place upon chance perhaps clouds your vision.”

 

“Not so,” countered the Book. “As I have told you, a prophesy relies not upon chance or random selection. If something is meant to be then it is meant to be and we have no reason to question that. Beware that you do not develop the cynical mind of your father. In many ways this situation is his fault.”

 

The young King hung his head in embarrassment. How could he even hope to contradict such wisdom? He was also painfully aware of his father’s shortcomings as King. If his father had listened to the advice of the Book then things may have been very different. As it stood, he made up his mind to no longer question the Book’s eternal logic. He slowly looked at Iras and then at the Book.

 

“Are you telling me that my daughters are the Sacred Four you spoke of?”

 

“I see little reason to believe they are not. They are the Ancient Spirits of Goodness and will fight against all malice that would threaten the Earth in the years to come. That may sound like a large sweeping statement but it is the truth.”

 

Iras walked over to her husband and held his arm. She rubbed her head against his shoulder. Horus looked down at her, still in a state of shock. Then he smiled and kissed his wife tenderly.

 

“Go now to your children and be at peace,” said the Book. “We shall speak on this subject again. There is more that I must say and things that we must do. But for now you must rest and recuperate. Today has been both a victory and a tragedy, but I am sure that you view it mostly as the latter. And who can blame you? You must have time to grieve properly. When the time comes for the spiritual conflict to begin, I will call upon you again.”

 

“Thank you,” said Iras.

 

The Book began to rise off the ground and headed off, down the western hallway towards the northwest wing and its eternal resting place.

 

Horus put an arm around Iras and they slowly walked towards the nursery.

 

 

 

 

Menas opened his eyes. He was not at all sure of his location. Everything was hazy and undeterminable and there was something hard and cold beneath him. Then it all came back to him with a horrible crash. He felt as if he was going to cry. He had failed. The plan had failed and that meant that the prophecy had also. Hadn’t he been promised ultimate power? Why did he not have it? He felt his disposition change from desolation to extreme fury. Someone was to blame and, by Ra, it was not he.

 

“Menas,” said a voice.

 

His temporary trance left him and he looked up. He found himself on the stone floor of the main audience chamber of Mageforce Castle. The Archmage Rosencrantz was looking down at him.

 

“I am so sorry Menas,” said the wizard. “This failure must be hard for you to stomach. If only you had been more careful and listened to what I told you.”

 

Menas saw red and picked himself up. He glared at Rosencrantz and his clenched teeth and fists. He trembled violently. Every muscle in his body was tightened in rage. An accusing finger shot out in the direction of the Archmage.

 

“I knew that you would tell me that this catastrophe was all my fault,” said Menas, surprisingly calmly, but revealing that he was finding it hard to compress his temper. “You told me that I would succeed and overthrow Osiris.”

 

“The prophecy stated that you would conquer Osiris and you did.”

 

Menas let loose a ball of red light at Rosencrantz. The sorcerer was knocked back against his dais where he lay, looking as if he was in some considerable pain.

 

“Do not try to be clever old man! The prophecy stated that I would rule over the Spirit World and unite it with this realm! Why am I back here?”

 

“Because you did not destroy all the inhabitants of the White Citadel before taking on the Book of Creation!” shouted Rosencrantz. “You let your ultimate victory slip through your fingers by allowing your head to be turned by your pretty young niece.”

 

“What?” cried Menas. “Of what do you speak?”

 

“When you confronted Iras you tried to win her over to your side. When you should have destroyed her you only stunned her. And you failed to notice that she had four daughters concealed in there too.”

 

Menas’s jaw dropped in alarm. His breath had been taken away.

 

“I did not know that,” he stammered.

 

“You did not think to look,” continued the Archmage. “That simple action lead you to failure. She was revived and distracted your sons long enough to allow the Book of Creation to finish you. Speaking of your sons.”

 

Rosencrantz pointed. Menas slowly looked around. His four sons were standing in the room also. Each one had a blank expression on their face and tried to avoid their father’s gaze.

 

“Your sons tried to escape when the going got tough.”

 

“That is a lie!” shouted Abydos. “We were trying to deceive the Book of Creation and that wretched Horus by making them think that we had escaped and were out of the picture.”

 

“Yes, that is what you planned with your father but you really wanted to use the portal to get away from the Citadel,” said Rosencrantz with a raised brow. “You realised that you stood no chance against the young Prince and his flaming sword.”

 

“We could not have escaped even if we wanted to,” said Anquat. “The portal was closed.”

 

“So that was the way it was,” said Menas, giving Rosencrantz a knowing look. “You realised that we were going to fail and so left us to our doom. Admit it Rosencrantz! You were ready to desert us!”

 

“Yes!” cried the Archmage. “Do you want to know why? I knew that once you had been defeated it would only have been a matter of time before the horrible Book of Creation discovered the portal. Imagine what would have happened if it entered the Demon Realm. It would have been the end of everything.”

 

“But you still abandoned us.”

 

“I’m afraid that I was acting in the best interests of this kingdom.”

 

“My kingdom and don’t you forget it!” yelled Menas, suddenly shooting the Archmage a curious stare. “How did we manage to escape?”

 

“You refer to the Blazing Tempest? That was the work of Lord Tartarus. He obviously considered you worth sparing.”

 

“After all this time you were ready to just let my sons and I perish. Thank Lord Tartarus. I shall never forget what he did. As for you, you decrepit relic of past sorcery, leave this place at once and never return. I never want to look at your traitorous face again.”

 

“How dare you! This is my home!” protested Rosencrantz. “I tire of your foolish presence Menas. Go off and rule the imaginary kingdom inside that oversized head of yours.”

 

“I gave you a chance wizard. Now you have lost it.”

 

Menas looked down at his waist. The Dark Destiny was in its scabbard once again. He drew the black blade and pointed it at the Archmage. Without a moment’s hesitation he fired a single bolt of ferocious animosity at him. Rosencrantz fell to the floor with a thud, his greying hair spilling across the ground. The Dark Destiny, even though the old sorcerer had constructed it, was too much for him to handle. His defensive magic was not strong enough.

 

Menas walked over to the Archmage’s body and kicked it over. He realised, to his slight annoyance, that Rosencrantz was still alive, even though he had never really intended to kill him. Menas then turned to his sons.

 

“He is now an outcast in the Demon Realm. Any enemy of mine is an enemy of my entire nation. Go now and bring me his feathered devotee.”

 

“Who would that be?” asked Arbchee, with a slight smirk.

 

“He is called Zaxx and he serves Rosencrantz with levels of sycophancy unknown to most. His bizarre avian features will make him easy to notice. I am quite happy to let him join his master in his fate. I have always despised the feathered fool.”

 

The brothers walked out of the chamber and began to search the castle for Zaxx. Truly Menas had told them of how he always had hated the avian mutant and they were ready to deal with anyone who did not fall into their father’s selective favour. As Menas waited Rosencrantz began to stir.

 

“It did not have to be this way,” said Menas. “I respected you Rosencrantz. You taught me many things, one of them being loyalty. It is such a pity that you cannot follow your own advice.”

 

Then the wooden doors flew open. The Unholy Quaternity had Zaxx locked in a tight grip. He made little effort to struggle. Menas walked over to him and ripped the horn off from around his neck.

 

“He won’t need this anymore. I will be taking control over the thugron legions from this moment onwards.”

 

“What has Zaxx done to offend you?” said the still unsteady Rosencrantz.

 

“I just thought that he would be good company for you in your exile,” said Menas. “Being your staunch bootlicker and all.”

 

“Exile?”

 

“You are banished forthwith from my domain. Anyone who sees you will be ordered to kill you. You are no longer welcome here. And don’t think of seeking refuge in the Netherworld. Lord Tartarus would just love to hear about how you tried to abandon us.”

 

Rosencrantz got up and glanced around. The four brothers looked sternly at him.

 

“Very well. I will leave. But be warned Menas. You may have just made a terrible mistake.”

 

“No mistake. Now be gone. I never wish to see you again.”

 

Rosencrantz raised his hand and he and Zaxx disappeared in a whirlwind of brown smoke, which left a strong smell of sulphur behind.

 

“Good riddance to bad rubbish, “ remarked Menas.

 

Anquat winced horribly, but subtly. He was beginning to understand his father’s intolerable admiration for the cliché in all situations. In his heart he observed and remembered. He would never be as predictable as his father.

 

“What now father?” asked Abydos.

 

“Do not trouble me with your infernal questions,” said Menas, casually throwing the horn to his outstretched hand. “Take this. Use the thugrons for whatever you see fit. I am no longer bound to advise you in your actions. Now that the prophecy is ended, so is our union.”

 

“You would not desert us now father,” implored Abydos. “We have been through much together.”

 

“I hardly know you at all. But no, I will not desert you. For you are my sons, and my legacy depends upon you. For now you must be contented with what I have left you. I shall be leaving now. Do not expect me to return for some time.”

 

“Where are you going?” asked Athothis. “What are we supposed to do?”

 

“This castle is now yours. Think of it as a present from me. As for what you can do for now, use the cauldron in this castle to speak with Emalgar. There is much that she can tell you. I will return when I am ready. May evil always cloud your thoughts and pervert your actions my sons.”

 

With that Menas turned around and walked out of the castle, leaving his sons speechless and alone. There was only one place he wished to be at that very moment and he began to slowly head in its direction. Despite his earlier forcefulness he was really still incredibly miserable and his nerves were in pieces. There had to be some hope left? One person could ease his mind, and he wanted her more than anything.

 

 

 

 

In the Nethershrine, Nefari stood facing the Miroirnoir, addressing her husband and growing more and more worried about Menas. Rather uncharacteristically she had developed a genuine concern for the Dread Lord of Darkness. She felt a strong bond with him that frightened her when she pondered on it. Such a connection did not exist between her and Lord Tartarus, although she was sure that her husband believed there to be one.

 

“And when Menas was struck by the Supernova, what happened?” she asked.

 

“I sent forth the Blazing Tempest to save him and his sons,” replied Tartarus. “They will be sent back to Mageforce Castle.”

 

“Thank you my lord,” she replied. “If anyone can console Menas it is Rosencrantz. He is the wisest of us all.”

 

“But Emalgar would disagree,” laughed Tartarus.

 

Tartarus then stopped speaking and gazed at his wife. Nefari hated it when he did that. She could feel his gleaming eyes on her when she was not looking. He made her feel like a precious jewel that he occasionally polished. Presently Lord Tartarus spoke again.

 

“I must leave you now. I am having trouble with Apollyon and Acheron. It seems that their plans have certain limitations. They will need my help.”

 

Acheron and Apollyon were the sons of Lord Tartarus. For many centuries they had lead armies of behemoths into peaceful worlds, intent on conquering them and spreading their evil. They were, however, not the sons of Nefari. Her marriage to their father had taken place long after they were born. However, Nefari had conceived Erebus and cared for her young son, despite her often stony temperament.

 

“And how is Erebus my lord?”

 

“Our son is fine. He is adapting to my teachings even more effectively than my other sons. He will make us proud, never fear.”

 

“That news pleases me so my lord.”

 

Lord Tartarus turned to leave and then glanced back.

 

“Menas may come here,” he warned. “He will likely be very angry after his defeat. Do your best to keep him optimistic. Do it for me. Menas is our greatest ally. He may have failed now but I am sure that he will see many victories in the future.”

 

“I will do my best my lord,” she obediently replied.

 

“Good girl.”

 

After Tartarus had vanished the Netherwitch spat at the Miroirnoir. She despised his sexist and patronising ways. Her thoughts then turned to Menas. Was he safe? Was he all right? Why was she so concerned? She beckoned to one of the shrouded disciples.

 

“Go to the entrance and await the arrival of Lord Menas. Once he has arrived admit him at once.”

 

“No need for that my lady.”

 

Nefari looked over her shoulder. Out of the darkness of one of the alcoves stepped the lurking figure of Menas.

 

“My lord Menas!” she cried in alarm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“You do not need to lie for my benefit Lady Nefari. I heard most of that conversation between you and your husband. I am in his debt it seems. Without the aid of the Blazing Tempest I would not be here now.”

 

“It is a marvellous spell. No doubt the Book of Creation was surprised.”

 

Menas glared at her. She then realised that he must have been incredibly distressed by the events in the White Citadel and provided an understanding look.

 

“I do not ask for your sympathy Lady Nefari.”

 

“But I provide it nonetheless. Surely Rosencrantz was just as supportive?”

 

“Do not mention that traitor in my presence!”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Menas told Nefari of all that had transpired since his return to the Demon Realm. All the while she looked progressively more stunned. When Menas had finished she shook her head crestfallenly.

 

“I would not have believed it of Rosencrantz,” she said, still shocked.

 

“Accept it,” said Menas. “He was prepared to leave us. Such betrayal runs deep. My actions were totally valid. I had no choice.”

 

“Of course. My husband will be upset and Emalgar will be in her element. She always hated Rosencrantz.”

 

“I know how she feels.”

 

Menas then nodded towards the dark guards. They stood motionless and mysterious. But they were still a presence despite their mystique and the Netherwitch understood Menas’s meaning.

 

“Come,” she said, and took him by the hand. “I know of a place where we shall have more privacy.”

 

Nefari led Menas down a dark, poorly lit passageway, similar to the one that led back towards the main audience room of the Nethershrine. In the darkness Menas lost sight of his lithe companion. He stopped walking and looked around. He could see literarily nothing. Then he felt a hand grab his. It was light and soft to the touch. Menas felt a warm, almost electrifying, sensation shoot up his arm and through the rest of his body.

 

“Are you there?” whispered Nefari.

 

“Here,” replied Menas softly, and he gave her hand a small squeeze.

 

They continued to move down the dark corridor. Menas had already lost all feelings of anger and disappointment. He no longer cared about his defeat. The only thing that mattered to him was the woman he was with. He loved her and was not afraid to admit it. In fact, to say that he loved her was an understatement. He adored her completely. For her he would be willing to sacrifice everything, go to war with her husband and abandon his quest to conquer the Spirit World. In his heart he knew that he had always felt that way, ever since he had first laid eyes on her.

 

The passageway began to widen and the lighting improved. To his surprise he saw that they were at a dead end.

 

“Where are we?” he asked. “I see no exit to this wretched tunnel.”

 

Nefari raised her hand and began to draw the shape of a strange intricate design on the wall, using only her finger. Once she had finished the mural disappeared and an opening materialized. Menas stared in amazement.

 

“Follow me,” said Nefari.

 

Menas followed the Netherwitch through the aperture and found himself in a small cave, well lit with torches, and quite roomy. Menas looked around and saw the opening disappear.

 

“What is this place?”

 

“Within this chamber we will not be seen by anyone. My husband trusts me but Emalgar likes to spy and make a nuisance of herself. Let her try now. All her powers cannot penetrate these walls. We are hidden from all prying eyes.”

 

“What was that strange symbol you drew on the wall to open this chamber?”

 

“The Antigon,” she replied. “It is the only spell that will block nether lore. I learnt it from my husband. The fool would never assume that I would use it to betray him.”

 

“Betray him?”

 

Nefari approached Menas. She moved her head closer to his. Menas backed off.

 

“What is it you fear? My husband? Perhaps you do not want me?”

 

“There is nothing else I desire more.”

 

“Then what is the problem?”

 

“I fear that we may start something that can only end in disaster.”

 

Nefari suddenly leaned forward and kissed him. Menas was speechless. Of all things he had not expected her to make the first move. It felt very wrong and yet very right and he returned the kiss with full vigour. All the while his head swam with opposing thoughts. She was the wife of the one who had saved him from certain doom, surely it was wrong? But then again what Lord Tartarus did not know could not hurt him. After all, such anxiety could lead to outright concern, a benevolent attribute. Concern could only be read as a malevolent quality when it was about oneself. Selfishness was the word on his mind. He would forever see Lord Tartarus’s behemoth horns as the horns of a cuckold.

 

Their lips parted and Nefari smiled, gazing into his wild eyes. Menas stared back. She was the loveliest thing, even more lovely due to the fact that she was evil deep down. To Menas there was nothing more alluring than evil beauty. But much to his annoyance Menas had to change the subject.

 

“There is much I need to discuss with your husband,” he said, with a serious tone. “I have decided to take the city of Recalcitrant by force. If Elder Uraeus and the demonite people will not submit to my rules then I must make certain examples. That will hopefully work in my favour.”

 

“I see now that any attempts at a peaceful arrangement would be futile,” agreed Nefari. “You are the master of this kingdom and must be obeyed. Those who would disagree will feel your wrath.”

 

“Yes. Lord Tartarus has promised me an army of behemoths, the likes of which have never been seen before. I have left Mageforce Castle in the hands of my sons. They can use it as their own headquarters. Emalgar will tell them of their destinies. They are no longer attached to mine.”

 

“Do you know what lies in store for them?”

 

“I only know that their destinies surround the world of mortals. Any more is unknown to me. I have my own plans. After I have conquered the demonites of Recalcitrant I will begin the construction of a mighty fortress. My all-powerful stronghold, Dolorous Bastion.”

 

“You seem much more optimistic my lord.”

 

“And it is down to you my dear. Without you I do not know what would become of me. I will make my way to Deathanox and speak with your husband.”

 

Nefari put her arms around Menas’s neck and kissed him again.

 

“Surely that can wait.”

 

“For you, my love, anything can wait.”

 

For the first time Menas felt that he had a firm grasp of his own future. There would be no more limits and drawbacks. The only way was forwards and no one would stand in his way. Everything he wished would be his, given time.

 

But unbeknownst to Menas was the fact that it would be the actions of his sons, rather than himself, that would pave the way towards his goal of ultimate power. For Menas the time of history making was over. For the Unholy Quaternity it was only the beginning.

 

Continued

 

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