BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan (57 page)

Three years after Stormea’s death, Humonus
Jr. was the next to go at the age of sixty-eight, due to choking on
a piece of meat while eating by himself one evening—surviving him
were his two children, five grandchildren, and one great
grandchild.

Following him in death six months later was
Rhea, who died at the age of sixty in her sleep—surviving her were
five children, eight grandchildren, and three great
grandchildren.

The next to go was Thar, five months later at
the age of fifty-seven, who died just like his father before him,
of a violent heart attack that took his life later that same
day—surviving him were one child, and three grandchildren.

Of course, hundreds more deaths occurred
daily in Baltor’s empire for all types of reasons, mostly peaceful.
Yet each and every single death of a loved one or cherished friend
became harder and harder for this “immortal Sultan” to deal with
over the course of the next century….

The day finally came when the last nation on
the planet joined the Sharia Empire, still under the reign of
Sultan Baltor Elysian the XVth.

Overall, it had taken this single man a grand
total of one hundred fifty-eight years to make his “one world
nation,” most of which had been “very peaceful and prosperous
years.”

Baltor was now one hundred eighty-two years
old, but strikingly looked no older than he was when he was
twenty—whenever asked about his “fountain of youth,” he always
replied, “I am an immortal. I will never grow old nor will I ever
die.”

Three million elite soldiers of all ranks, as
well a little more than forty-five thousand giant hawks, now served
under his imperial command, many of whom he frequently trained with
in his expert martial arts on a military fort that engulfed an
entire small continent—complete with fortified walls, training
grounds, barracks, mess halls, and command buildings. Every city in
the world, of course, had its own military base.

He had personally designed this
continent-sized fort seventy years ago, just in case of another
massive dark-gnome army who teleported from another dimension with
the goal to conquer his world. Thankfully, this event had not ever
happened again, yet.

An equally impressive accomplishment for
Baltor was the fact that thanks to his imperial laws of “peace,
duty, honor, and glory for all,” poverty, hunger, and slavery had
been eradicated!

For, in every city and town all across the
world, there were now free food and/or home shelters, which 24-hour
shelters simultaneously schooled and/or job-trained, based on the
desires and the skills of the individual—child or adult.

Besides all the qualified staff and teachers
needed to run these shelters, which job positions quickly became
filled, many more types of careers were available to choose
from—artists, cooks, seamstresses, blacksmiths, carpenters,
stonemasons, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, law-enforcers, and
of course, military recruiters.

After all, it was also imperial law that by
the age of twenty-four years old, every male and female must serve
minimally one year as a soldier in the Sharia Empire—only those who
had severe birth physical defects or mental disabilities were
exempt. As an added bonus, anyone could become an “officer’s
candidate,” if that individual attained the rank of “Journeyman” in
his or her civilian-oriented profession. “Master” was the highest
rank, which automatically meant the rank of “lieutenant.”

Of course, everyone in the entire
world—generation after generation—came to hear and learn for
themselves, that their centuries-old Sultan was “an
immortal”—statistically, only a really small percentage continued
to suspiciously fear Baltor to be “an unnatural and evil creature,”
because most loved him.

Whether that news was ultimately true or not,
about him being evil, he still took really good care of them all …
each and every Moonday he opened Pavelus’s palace gates, and
personally listened to the concerns of his people.

The very few who continued to hate their
Sultan—no matter what he did for them—rarely ever voiced out his or
her opinions, in fear of Baltor’s other indisputable magical
powers, including telepathy, clairvoyance, illusions, invisibility,
and teleportation of entire armies!

Though none had a single doubt that his
powers were true, none who ever tried could duplicate any of his
runic magic could, no matter how intelligent he or she inevitably
became through life until death.

Shortly after this world-unification came to
be, and all major conflicts ended, only then did Baltor begin to
inwardly wonder—with increasing agitation every single year—where
in the hell his own maker, mentor, and master was: Trendon
Harrn.

After all, not only had this individual been
the one to make him immortal in the first place—one hundred
sixty-two years ago—yet
the master
had simultaneously
promised that once Baltor had “mastered the entire world,”
he
would come back to take his apprentice to the other
realms, in order to train him to be a “Watcher.”

And, in Baltor’s indisputable opinion, he now
mastered this entire world indisputably … no one dared challenge
him.

Finally his answer came, thirty peaceful and
prosperous years later, when he has “a very-very strange
dream!”

In it, he saw himself slightly leaning
against the wall in a megalithic obsidian chamber filled with
glowing red magical runes inscribed upon the ceiling, the walls,
and even the floor—sinister-looking runes that he did not
recognize, despite all his centuries of study upon the subject of
runic magic.

In the center of this chamber, a second
later, a rectangular steel table unexpectedly popped out of
nowhere! Yet lying on it was a man—wearing only a loincloth,
strapped to the table by foot and handcuffs, and obviously having
been severely beaten and whipped from head to toe.

As Baltor’s gaze focused upon the face, he
quickly observed that this unconscious man appeared to be
none
other than the master
—Trendon, which greatly surprised
the
apprentice!

After quickly walking over to the table, he
began to make a closer medical examination—though this man appeared
to be mortally wounded, especially because of the abdominal tissues
sliced open and hanging all out, he saw that this man’s chest was
slightly breathing, which meant that this man was still alive, at
least for a few more moments…

Deciding to rescue this man right here and
now, Baltor’s hands had attempted to grasp the shackle holding this
man’s left foot, in order to rip the shackle from the table.
Strangely, however, his hand only grasped thin air—as if the
shackle was only a phantom … or the other way around!?

Looking back up at the man’s face, Baltor
became surprised to see this man’s eyes unexpectedly bulge open, as
if fully awake!

However, unlike the previous two encounters
he had with Trendon Harrn, this man’s brown eyes did not glow like
a prismatic diamond. Suspiciously, Baltor asked, “Are you for real
or are you an optical illusion?”

The man answered, “I am not an optical
illusion, nor are you…but you are currently in ‘a dream state.’

“Really? Why are you enslaved and ravaged to
a pulp like this? Can you possibly be my master,
the
Trendon
Harrn?” Baltor asked.

The man answered with a hell of a lot of
sorrow, “Yes, my apprentice, I am Trendon Harrn… Baltor, I am truly
sorry I was not able to come to your aid before this time—I did
mean to shortly after you first mastered your world. However,
shortly before my arrival, as you can clearly see, I—your
Master—fell into a diabolical trap! Even worse, the Vompareus now
have possession and control over the Rod of Ro’shain!”

Though Trendon was about to go on, Baltor
interrupted, “Before you continue, sir, I have an important
question that must be answered right now, because all you ever gave
to me were encrypted hints—is this rod just a teleporting device,
or is it more?”

Trendon answered, “To answer your questions
in order, no and yes, as the rod is a teleporting device, yet it is
also the very key to the door to their Realm of Darkness, of which
I made both key and door, and imprisoned the Vompareus there nine
thousand years ago…

“That is, until I became captured and
imprisoned thirty years ago by the Arch Devils, the rod taken from
me, and given to the Vompareus. Now they are free and teleporting
from world to world with the rod, killing almost every last person,
absorbing their souls, and recruiting into their ranks the few
remaining survivors—they’re powers are multiplying every day. If
they are not stopped soon, chaos and evil will rule over all the
universal realms—they have already conquered three worlds! Finally,
know this… It took me thirty years to finally conjure enough power
to contact you this way—through your dream…”

Even though a million more questions flooded
in Baltor’s mind that he wanted to ask, the first question that
came out of his mouth was, “So where are you, my Master?”

While raising his left eyebrow, Trendon
painfully answered, “I am now in the ninth plane of hell.”

After unconsciously gulping, Baltor shakily
asked, “What…seriously?”

“Yes.”

Almost immediately after Trendon had finished
answering his question, Baltor’s heart began to feel quite a bit
guilty for damning him to hell that one day, because he had not
shown up when Baltor’s one and only beloved Wife and Sultaness had
horribly died—Brishava!

The only reason Baltor had wanted Trendon to
“show up” at all was to get the permission to make her into an
immortal, like he and his master! But
the master
never
showed … anger, once again, began to sprout through Baltor’s
mind…

Having telepathically read all of Baltor’s
thoughts, Trendon interrupted compassionately, “Yes. Don’t fret
about any of that—it’s not your fault I’m here. Nor is it my fault
that I did not show on that particular date—I had a lesson to teach
you about life and death, which includes losing a loved one who is
mortal, of which lesson you’ve obviously learned… Obviously you did
learn all your lessons, or you would not have mastered your world
on your own! Finally, regarding Brishava, know that her spirit
peacefully lives in the Seventh Plane of Heaven…”

After taking a deep breath that caused him
even more pain, he continued, “Now please listen, Baltor, as we
really don’t have much time left. My devilish captors will soon be
back to torture me more, as they have done religiously these last
thirty years! If they see you, they will know where to find you,
and then all hope will be lost! Only together, you and I, can we
stop them for good…”

“How do I get to you?” Baltor asked.

“You must go through all nine planes of hell,
in order of succession. Located on each plane is the ruling
Arch-Devil—only he and/or she possess the key that will get you to
the next plane…”

Baltor unconsciously gulped once again.

Trendon continued, “To give a brief
explanation of how I got imprisoned here, thanks in part to Dreeak,
the Vompareus recently struck a deal with the nine Arch Devils—even
though they have been blood-thirsty enemies with each other since
the Beginning of Time. Together, they diabolically planned a trap
for me, of which I obviously fell into…

“Now the two enemies only became allies
because the first group recently convinced the second group that
when the very last world containing a soul is destroyed, thus will
come the ultimate destruction of the heavens. However, just so you
know, I still don’t believe the heavens nor the Divine can ever be
destroyed, which is why the rest of us are here!

“So now…go and wake up and then come and find
me—my enemies have nearly returned—you must go now! Help the
universal realms…help me! Help us all! Help yourself…”

A runic symbol appeared in Baltor’s vision
for only a single second—in the next second, he awoke from his
dream that obviously wasn’t just a dream. For about the next four
hours or so, he sat in his bed, meditating on what to do…

On one hand, Baltor considered the fact that
he had worked so hard to master this realm—and now he truly was the
master of this realm!

On the other hand, if he didn’t do something
to help Trendon, the Vompareus would come to this world, sooner or
later, and most likely destroy everything and everybody.

Once he had finally made his decision, nearly
an hour later, he immediately dispatched hundreds of messengers
through the magical portals to each of the Provinces in the world.
The message was strictly for the governors; that message was to
come to Pavelus the following morning at nine a.m., and that the
meeting was to be held at ten.

At nine in the morning, as the governors
arrived, one by one, the guards began to respectfully escort them
to the palace grounds outside. Meanwhile, Baltor was first dressed
into his battle-armor and helmeted-crown by his assistants, and
then equipped with his swords and sheaths…

Precisely one hour later, Baltor walked out
onto the balcony, and then he declared, “The time has come for me
to leave this world, as I have an urgent matter that must
immediately be taken care of. Honestly, I do not know how long I
will be gone, but I do know that I’m planning on coming back...

“Therefore, my last proclamation as your
Sultan is this. The Sharia Empire shall, from here on out, be known
as the Sharia Republic.”

Many gasps of shock erupted throughout the
crowds.

“I want each and every one of you
equally-powerful governors to listen to the concerns of your
people, for you to convene and discuss these issues amongst each
other every quarter here in this palace, and finally, for you all
to vote in the best interests of the Sharia Republic. You shall all
be equal in your votes.”