Day 70, 9:50 AM
“People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The war-room’s long table is large enough to sit a dozen people. Against my expectations, Gomer claims the head seat, opening a book titled Treatise on Devils. Manny sits to his right, and I follow suit, sitting beside her. Phill is across from me, mouthing, ‘Stay calm,’ and ‘Don’t worry,’ whenever Vatten looks away from him.
I have no idea what exactly I shouldn’t worry about. My life has become a long list of things to worry about. Yesterday, it was an assassin. This morning it was my pregnant woman. Now, it’s the devils crawling out of an ancient tomb, threatening to turn the entire city into ghouls or zombies.
“Devils cannot be killed.” Gomer starts reading a page with an illustration of a withered human with black eyes. “Their flesh shall wilt, but never rot. Centuries must pass before they shall become desiccated enough to lose mobility. Only then shalt thou encase them in mortar. Thou shalt never bury them or sink their prison. Thou shalt always know their locations, lest someone breaks their seal by accident and become bedeviled, spreading the curse anew.”
Gomer handles the yellow page with reverence, and vellum rustles as he turns it, revealing a drawing of a slender, black-eyed human bound in chains. Pyre’s flames lick his body while the surrounding people have one normal eye and one black.
Goosebumps crawl across my skin as I understand what the illustration hints at even before Gomer reads it aloud.
“Thou shalt never burn the devils. Fire shall consume one only to spawn hundreds. Having discovered the devils’ weakness to fire, the ancient city-state of Karrum purged their devils with fire. Overnight, the majority of their populace turned into devils, turning the prosperous city into one of the forsaken lands. Hundreds of slaves and freemen fled, spreading the tales of madness and devils devouring the living. The reason some survived while others grew bedeviled is unknown. Some claimed piety, yet their priests had transformed, others claimed strength or nutrition, yet children and starved have escaped unaffected. It is best not to guess and assume everyone shall grow bedeviled.”
The next page has a drawing of a devil chopped into pieces, his hands and feet walking on their fingers and toes like they belong in the Abams Family, while the entrails are drawn like a slithering snake.
“Thou shalt never dismember devils. Each piece of them shall become a devil of its own. Even spilled blood may curse unwitting men, turning them into devils.”
This sounds like some super virus from the Neverending Evil franchise. But I am glad someone documented all of this. My first reaction to something like a zombie apocalypse is ‘aim for the head’, followed by ‘kill it with fire.’
Both would’ve killed me.
Gomer reads page after page, each with large illustrations and bits of text beneath. I guess the illustrations are there in case there’s nobody literate around and people need an instruction with dos and don’ts.
The instructions boil down to wrap the zombies in rope or bandages before encasing them in chains, carrying full riot or dog-training gear all the while. Seal them for several centuries. Once dry enough, turn them into a giant cube of concrete and don’t misplace it.
To me, the instructions are a parody of a proper procedure, especially the ‘don’t misplace them’ part. How irresponsible do you have to be to lose track of a creature you literally call a devil, and encased in tons of concrete you can’t even move properly?
How insane do you have to be to release it in the enemy camp? What do you do if your enemy cannot handle the situation, and everyone in the city becomes a devil? Do you just say, ‘Whoops, we fucked up, let’s try another country’?
Gomer keeps reading, proving Manny right. Devils despise light, but sunlight does not harm them, and they will walk into the light to hunt, assuming they perceive their prey beyond the safety of darkness.
However, they won’t walk through fire, so building a burning defensive line can stall the problem indefinitely, and Treatise on Devils even cites a distant southern kingdom in which a monastic order keeps eternal sacred fires to suppress the devils forever.
Worst-case scenario, a ring of fire will keep us safe.
Fifteen minutes later, Gomer turns the page again, revealing the grotesque picture-book’s final warning.
“Thou shalt confine everyone who came into contact with the devils, for man can turn into one at a mere touch. Thous shalt keep a close eye on them, and if a whole moon passes without them turning, those men and women are safe and thou shalt release them to spread their tale of survival.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Gomer closes the tome with no less reverence than when he first opened it.
“This is a newer copy, written a century ago, when the devils last reemerged.” He places the second book atop the original. “It was made in case this one gets damaged. I will check its condition, and I will start copying it, just in case. This knowledge cannot be lost.”
A slight smile dances at the edge of his lips. He’s gonna enjoy copying the drawings and the words. Probably dreaming about future generations viewing his work as great, world-saving wisdom.
Who knows, maybe his copy comes in handy to someone. It might even save the world one day.
Gomer clears his throat and his dreamy look of humanity’s savior disappears. “These two books are the historic records of the two previous outbreaks. One happened a hundred and seven years ago, and the one before that three hundred and twenty-nine years ago. The treatise I just read is from the latter epoch, written by Farthen Scholar.”
He definitely wants to leave a book as his legacy. I sure hope his effort winds up a bizarre curio cited by scholars a thousand years from now.
“Thank you, Gomer.” Manny graces him a smile. “Please read those books as soon as possible.”
She looks at everyone gathered at the table, holding our gazes for several seconds. There’s not a trace of romance in her eyes when she looks at me. Her look is hundred percent business. “Now that we have the facts, I am willing to hear all suggestions on how to handle our current predicament.”
Phill is silent, just staring at me like he’s constipated, probably giving me a chance to say something smart.
I take the hint. “I believe I can handle this on my own. Maybe with an assistant to do the wrapping while I immobilize the devils.”
“And pray tell,” Vatten says with a relaxed smile, “young man, what do you plan to do when a devil attacks while both your hands are tied binding another devil? Will you ask them to wait in line?”
I hate to admit it, but he’s got a point. Humans would be easy. Knock them out, then process them one by one. Fortunately, my intellect has a response ready before he’s done with his sarcastic remark.
“Tomb corridors should be narrow. A molot— a vial of flammable oil or alcohol can seal them for long enough to bind and mummify a devil. We have to prepare the liquid which will satisfy our needs, but it should turn the devils into proper citizens, peacefully waiting in line for me to bind them.” I mirror Vatten’s smirk and wink.
The smile disappears from his villainous, goatee-adorned face. He opens his mouth to say something then closes it. Phill is staring at me like a land leech bit his treasure. Fortunately, Gomer comes to my aid.
“That’s an excellent idea! We could mix distilled alcohol with solsus lard in a bucket…”
The scholar takes five minutes to come up with a dozen concoctions, which, after several tweaks, should become the solution we need. Meanwhile, Vatten’s presence changes. It’s not the first time I’m feeling this about people. He hasn’t moved a muscle, frowned, and even his gaze has remained the same, yet I can feel him brooding.
“I am not convinced. Can he really wrestle a devil under layers of protective clothing?” Vatten asks Phill as soon as Gomer stops talking.
“He can destroy a bear at wrestling, even with one arm tied behind his back. Maybe both arms. And I think he might not even need the protective clothing, but better safe than sorry.”
Thanks, Phill, I won’t forget that! I catch myself smiling. Phill is always hard on me, grumbling and cursing, but now, when it matters, he’s got my back.
“He’s duller than a club, though.”
You didn’t have to ruin it, Phill.
“Sorry, Phill, but I believe you are biased. Sure, the kid’s got a sturdy frame, but that seems about it.”
Phill folds his arms and smirks. “He can do hundreds of pushups with a thousand pounds of sand on his back and two armored soldiers jumping on top of the sacks.”
Vatten stares at him, searching for a joke. He doesn’t find it, but keeps staring, and I love the hair-thin crack of his ajar mouth. It’s like he realized his jaw was dropping, but then he stopped it and forgot to close his mouth.
“General Aang is strong beyond human understanding.” Manny stares at Vatten without looking at me. “And I disagree with Master Philligon. Aang’s mind is exceptionally nimble and keen. He came up with a tactic to isolate the devils in the amount of time you took to ask your question, count Vatten. Furthermore, he is brave, and if at all possible, I would like the two of you to get along and work together.”
Finally, she shifts her gaze towards me. “General Aang, I expect the same from you. Count Vatten is an old friend and a valuable ally, give him your full cooperation and none of your snark. You are free not to like each other, but you must foster mutual respect and spirit of cooperation. You will work together a lot in the future.”
Gomer nods like a proud mother hen, and Vatten has an awkward face. Mine is probably identical, but at least Phill looks like he’s having a ball.
“Does anyone have any other concerns about the plan? Suggestions? Improvements?”
“I do,” Phill speaks up. “If Aang becomes bedeviled, nobody can stop him. The book said people grow several times stronger after becoming devils. If he becomes a devil, I think that devil will be strong enough to tear any binding. He might even collapse the whole tomb and dig his way out.”
Vatten stares at Phill, but he’s got a point. More importantly, what if Redo doesn’t trigger after I become a devil, and I just lose my sanity and remain trapped in a decaying body for hundreds or thousands of years?
Gee, thanks, Phill. I never even considered getting bitten and becoming a zombie for all eternity. Would I keep my class? Would I keep Godly? Would its major bonus to all attributes allow me to think rationally?
I don’t know. Suddenly, I’m scared.
“Do you have any better ideas?” Manny snaps me out of my fear spiral. “Or suggestions on how to keep General Aang from suffering an injury and getting bedeviled?”
Phill shakes his head.
“No. All I have is concern.”