The Four Kings (30 page)

Come on, Demus. I order you to appear
.

Opening her eyes, she imagined the slim body of Demus sitting right in front of her.
He was starting to appear in her imagination. Good. Good. Keep it up.

She shrieked for a second when Demus appeared. However, he was wearing a gold crown over his head, and majestic red robes that flowed out spilling to the carpet. A white fur trim outlined the fancy robe that was fit for a king. He wore a slim waistcoat with golf leaf embroidery on the front, equipped with brilliant red and gold collars. On his legs were ornate slacks, with red and gold lines running down the sides.

Demus grinned. “Why are your hands like that, Amanda?”

Amanda gulped. “Demus, I was just thinking about you. Did you come here on your own, or did I make you happen?”

“You were thinking about me?”
Demus exclaimed with delight. He simpered. “How sweet of you!”

“So it’s just a coincidence,” Amanda said blankly. “A weird coincidence.” She frowned. “Why are you dressed like a king?”

“Well,” Demus began with a shrug. “Everyone has said for a long time now that we behave like kings. So I thought I’d dress the part.” He laughed.

She held her hand up to her mouth to suppress her mirth. As much as she tried, she could never completely hate Demus. He had a knack for getting into her heart.

He pointed at her, sensing he was on to something. “Did I just see that? Are you laughing?”

Amanda couldn’t help it. She desperately sucked in her breath, and then laughed with abandon.

“King Demus,” he rocked his head back and forth, using a singsong voice. “King Demus, to preside over us all.”

Amanda couldn’t help but play along. “King of the realm, the power, and the glory.”

“Okay.” Demus appeared serious now. He snapped his fingers, and the royal garments disappeared. Back to his regular clothes. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Only if you’re
my
king,” Amanda teased him.

He vanished from his chair, and materialized on her bed, lying against the pillows. He turned his head to her. “We seem to be stuck in the same old rut.” He playfully pouted, jutting out his lower lip.

Amanda gently ran her fingernails down Demus’ left arm, electrifying him. “Sometimes routine can be good.”

Chapter Forty-One

One year, nine months post-Liberation

The four wizards, in that order: blue, red, purple, and yellow, appeared all bewildered as they sat at the side of a long table in the huge ballroom of Liberators’ Headquarters. All the guests – about forty in all – had to arrange for transportation there, whether it be by bus, train, plane, or car. They were all meticulously searched upon arrival and whisked through security.

One of the guests was the President of Partners with Liberators, Leslie Bafia. She spoke to Amanda with much excitement. “Yes, the People’s Assembly is an excellent start.”

“People’s Assembly?” asked Demus, somewhat puzzled.

“Yes,” Amanda eagerly explained. “We’ll have an assembly of one hundred citizens of North America, all carefully selected to reflect as many segments of society as possible. The aged, the young, the middle-class, the capitalists, the socialists, and umm –” She glanced over at Bafia for help.

“And,” Bafia added, “the underdogs, too. Women, the homeless, the disabled.”

Indie stood up, commanding everyone’s attention with a loud voice. She knew the proceedings were private; this time, upon the Mortals’ request, the discussions would
not
be televised. The wizards had protested mightily, but deferred to the wishes of the Mortals. “And why do we need a Citizens’ Assembly?” she shouted.

“People’s Assembly,” Amanda corrected her.

“You need us now,” Bafia stood up in defiance to Indie. “Do the words ‘Battle of Osborne’s Farm’ remind you of anything?”

Indie wanted to fire off a retort, but bit her tongue.

“Indie, the Liberators’ popularity has hit a low, at twenty-six percent,” Amanda said. “You need to win back their trust.”

Demus had enough. He rose, and shouted out, “Remember your history! You had spineless politicians who bent to the will of the people, and in the end resorted to secret deals and lobbying!
They
are the ones who betrayed the trust of the people!”

“That’s enough, Demus,” Bafia admonished him.

Demus turned red. He held out his hand, pumping his arm up and down. “This is all secret bargaining! You have – you know what – a token in a wheelchair to balance off an aboriginal!” He sarcastically gestured with
whooping
sounds, eliciting gasps of outrage. “This isn’t governance. This is pandering!”

As astonished faces among the large Mortal assembly glanced at Demus, Bafia snarled out at him, “Sit down, Demus!”

He muttered to himself, loud enough for everyone else to hear. “This is unbelievable. I’m a wizard, and I’m taking orders from a Mortal. What’s this?” He shook his head rapidly in disgust as he sat down.

“Anyway,” Amanda stood up to assert her authority. “This is all still under discussion. We’ll aim for a People’s Assembly to work hand-in-hand with the Liberators in three months from now, for their last year of rule, and preserve as much as possible the advantages of their sweeping reforms.”

“Hear, hear!” some attendants clapped.

All four wizards sulked amidst the wave of self-congratulation by the Mortals.

A bespectacled man, thin and short with a pot belly walked up to Amanda, appearing careful not to attract attention. “It’s time now.”

“Oh yes,” said Amanda as she rose. She called out to the four wizards seated beside her. “Justica, Demus, Indie, and Regi, you’re needed now.” With a finger curled up in their direction, she beckoned for them to arise and to join her.

“What’s this?” Regi grumbled to Indie, quietly enough not to be heard by anyone else.

The small break-away group sauntered off to a smaller conference room through a door, where they found photographers, along with a smattering of ordinarily attired Mortals.

“Guys, this is Bruce,” Amanda gestured toward the bespectacled, grinning man. “He’s one of the top political consultants in this country. He’s worked on several municipal, state, and federal elections. He’s going to help us.”

Demus felt challenged. This was his territory now. “
Political consultant?
I’m responsible for politics.” He glared at the short man with disdain. “Why is he here?”

Bruce half-apologetically spoke out, “I mean you no disrespect, Demus – may I call you Demus? – but your image needs refurbishing.” He paused. “
Major
renovating.”

Demus spoke haughtily. “
My
image? What’s wrong with my image? I am, after all, a powerful wizard.”

“That may be so,” Bruce remarked carefully, “but you have to think from the point of view of Mortals. Actually, you should call them ‘people’ from now on. They don’t call themselves Mortals. They just don’t know you.”

“How dare you!” Indie said through gritted teeth. “We’ve deliberated all the issues for hundreds of hours in front of them. How can they know us any better?” She jabbed her arm into the air toward him. “Did you, in any shape or form, work on any of the campaigns of that conniving imbecile, Arthur K. Walker?” She couldn’t bear to say
former President
in front of his name.

“No,” Bruce said.

“Good,” Indie snapped, as she turned her head away from him. Then she turned and pointed back at him. “His worth has just shot up.”

Bruce grimaced. He held out his hands as if attempting to connect to them, and bent over slightly to one side. His shoulders hunched, he said, “People don’t think that way. They want to see you as human.”

Justica groaned loudly. “That’s the point. We’re not human! We’re wizards.”

The consultant knew how to be convincing. He held on to his glasses as he started at her. “And yet you claim to
represent
humans.”

The four wizards fell silent.

Bruce had scored a point. “Very well.” He tugged at Regi’s arm. “This way, sir. We’re going to show your warm and cuddly side.”

“Cuddly?” mocked Indie. “What is he, a teddy bear?”

The political strategist ignored the remark. Matching up Regi with an impossible good-looking young married couple, Bruce said, “Regi, meet the Coopers. They’re your typical middle-class family just starting out. They’re worried about their future, but just need to be assured of their trust in the Liberators.” The beaming mother was holding a baby in her arms.

Without skipping a beat, Bruce walked up to the mother, and gestured for her to hand the baby over to him. She did so with slight trepidation. Then, Bruce brought the baby over and placed it into Regi’s arms.

Regi gasped as he, for the first time in his life, held a squirming, babbling baby.

Amanda gushed over the sight. Regi, holding a baby! She felt like going
awwww
….

Bruce said before stepping away. “Talk to them. I’m going to set up the photos now. Smile at the camera. Don’t worry, we tested them in a focus group, and they’re very strong supporters of the Liberators.”

Justica spoke out. “You pre-selected them! How’s this representative of a democracy?”

“Trust me. This is how it works. Now, do as I say!”

Three photographers lined up in front of Regi, the Coopers, and their baby. They clicked away as the Coopers, obviously well-trained for the cameras, smiled and posed from every photogenic angle. A sheepish Regi could only nervously glance at the baby, which squirmed in his arms, and hope that he wouldn’t drop it.

“Good, good.” Bruce squinted his eyes. “That baby blue blanket, nice contrast against Regi’s yellow shirt.”

“Oh goodie,” Indie spoke out loud, rolling her eyes, “Next, you’ll be picking out China patterns.”

Bruce sternly turned to her with his finger in the air. “Don’t mock it, Indie. These color-themed shirts have done far more for your brand image than any of your debates on economics.” He turned around from a shocked Indie and spoke to Regi. “Regi, act natural. Talk to them. Anything. Show how you
connect
.”

Regi, uncertain, fumbled about as he valiantly tried to think of a topic for these –
Mortals
. “Mrs. Cooper,” Regi finally said, “what do you think about the elasticity of demand and supply in a post-transition economy?”

Mrs. Cooper blinked, and then flashed her smile for the cameras. She giggled and patted her hand on Regi’s shoulder. “The only elasticity I worry about,” she said, “is the one around my pyjamas bottoms when I go to bed.”

Bruce was beaming. “Good. Good. We’ll edit that for release this afternoon.”

Disgusted, Indie and Demus slowly strolled away from the admiring crowd, which was looking the other way, at the spectacle of a famous wizard mingling with his “constituents.” They glanced around to make sure no one could hear them as they whispered to each other.

“Nauseating,” Demus said.

“Scandalous,” Indie agreed. She glanced at him again. “Are you working on it?”

Demus had a wide grin. “Yes. It is time to release the Prophecy.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Demus and Amanda materialized in the center of Emerana, the grand fortress of the Liberators. This was Amanda’s third visit and she was on a mission – to find out exactly was the “key” to Elsedor’s statue – the one that Demus claimed couldn’t be unlocked by any wizard.

Maybe a Mortal can do it
, she thought.

It was a faint hope, but if the secrets to such a revered god could be revealed, it could go a long way to blocking any control the wizards had over humanity. Amanda knew Demus was infatuated with her. Should she play to his emotions, she might, just might get what humanity needed.

“Thanks, Demus,” Amanda said, hugging him. “I so much want to know how you wizards play your games. Maybe you can train me!”

The powerful wizard laughed. “Amanda, it’s always been an interest of mine that you get involved. Just because you’re not a wizard, doesn’t mean you can’t do it.”

Amanda’s heart beat faster as she formulated exactly what she was going to say. “You said that there was a key to unlocking Elsedor’s power. You said no wizard has managed to find out. Can you explain more? Is there some sort of game you have to play to satisfy Elsedor?”

Demus’ eyes revealed both surprise and intrigue. “Yes, I’ve tried several times, and failed each time. Elsedor is simply too great a god to be so easily revealed.” He gazed up, as if looking toward heaven. “It’s rumoured that any wizard who can unlock Elsedor’s secret would become the next wizard god.”

“Wow,” Amanda smiled, amazed. “Imagine you as a god, Demus. It couldn’t happen to a better wizard.” She was laying the praise on very thick.

Somewhat to her surprise, Demus took the bait. “Well,” he bragged, “It did cross my mind many times. What wizard hasn’t?” He took her arm, and tugged at her. “Come. I’ll show you how it works, on a basic level.”

Amanda’s adrenalin was now sky-high. She tried not to show too much excitement. “I’d like that.”

“Very well, we’re going to play a game. You’re going to try to figure out the key.”

“Can Mortals have the power to find the key?”

He was excited. “I don’t know. We’ve never had a Mortal try. But if I had to pick any Mortal, it’d be you, Amanda.”

Her cheeks turned pink as she blushed. “How does it work?”

“I’m going to set up a game. Once the game gets underway, and you have to defeat something, you say, ‘Show me your key’.” That’s the way we all do it.”

Amanda’s mind raced ahead. “Demus, can wizards kill each other with magic?”

Demus seemed startled. “No. Magic can’t be used to kill wizards.” He dreamily started upwards. “That’s the beauty of it. It’s the force that unifies us, the power that compels us to work together – and to play against each other.”

Amanda’s voice was strained now. “But you used magic as a teenager, Demus, to kill two Mortals. So can magic be used to kill Mortals?”

His eyes glared with vitriol. “Yes. Since Mortals do not have magic, magic can kill them.”