Chapter 4 - The Realm of Contentment
Withers arrived in the Realm of Contentment at the end of a quiet street. As he walked, he observed the ramshackle houses around him, without getting involved in the misery of the scene. In the distance, he noticed larger buildings, and so he guessed this was part of the suburban sprawl.
The further he went into the town, the more the poverty and lawlessness were evident.
He rounded a corner to see a group of children playing with toy guns. One young boy was suddenly hit in the side of the face with a projectile. The rest of the boys ran as they thought they were going to get into trouble.
“You all right, mate?” Withers helped the boy to his feet. The boy was about to run, but realised that there was something non-threatening about this man.
“Yeah,” he said shyly. “Sorry, mister. I know we should be at school.”
“What’s your name?” asked Withers.
“Nel,” said the boy. “Hey, do you work with my Dad?”
“What does he do?”
“He fights the bad guys,” said Nel.
Withers grinned. “I’m on his side. What’s his name?”
“Zepth,” said Nel, “I haven’t seen him for a week.”
Withers put his hand on his head. “Don’t worry, son. That day is coming very soon.”
***
Closer to the main town, Withers was stopped by two law officials, riding what he would describe as a floating chariot. It was open at the top and levitated by anti-gravity.
“What are you doing in this sector?” demanded a black-robed official. He wore a black helmet, covered by a reflective visor.
“I’m a tourist from Sylonia,” said Withers. “I strayed a little from the tour this morning.”
The other official laughed, as if it was the best joke he had heard in a long time. “You’re very funny. Tourism finished in Rylose years ago. A spy, more like it!” He pulled out his gun and motioned Withers to get in the back of the chariot.
Withers checked the Oracle. These men were possessed by Shadow drones in the universal sense. He climbed in the back. At least they would lead him to the real obstacle in this realm.
***
“What were you doing in Sector C?” demanded the police sergeant. Withers, the police sergeant and the two officials were standing in an interrogation room at the Rylose police station.
Withers remained cool, calm and collected. The sergeant wasn’t a Shadow Lord, either, he decided. He needed a way to get to the thick of the action.
“I’ve got some information from the rebels, that you may be interested in, but I was hoping to pass it on to someone a little higher in authority,” responded Withers calmly.
“I’m high enough in authority for you!” snapped the sergeant, pointing his gun at Withers.
Withers glared at him and the other man lowered the gun.
“It’s important that I see your superior!” snapped Withers, feigning impatience. “Now!”
“How dare you speak to the Sergeant like that!” said one of the officials. He tried to fire at Withers.
Using the Oracle, Withers jammed the electronics in the energy-bolt gun. The others fired but their guns, too, were jammed.
Most guns in Udicia had single energy-bolt firing capabilities, and it took nearly a minute of re-energising before the next energy-bolt could be fired.
The Sergeant charged at Withers, intending to pistol-whip him, but Withers grabbed his arm like a vice. The other two came at Withers again but he kicked an office chair in front of them.
Withers quickly went out the door, pushing aside another officer who got in his way. The officer was bewildered that his weapon didn’t fire.
Outside, Withers jumped in the chariot and studied the controls. The Oracle instantly gave him the knowledge to operate it, and he took off down the road.
***
“He’s set up the city centre like a fortress,” said Tristan Seymour. “It should be a place for everyone to share and enjoy.”
Seymour wore the simple clothing of rebels, with a very plain light-blue shirt with tattered ends, and trousers that only went half-way down his lower legs. His shoes were slip-ons which hardly covered his ankles.
“Where are you from?” asked Viler. “Fairyland? It’s been like this for many years.” Viler was the rebel commander. When he had first seen Seymour he had almost shot him, but something alerted him to the fact that this was a good man.
Seymour had been in Rylose since the day before and had immediately come into contact with the local freedom fighters. At that moment, they were on a raid to rescue an important comrade who had been captured by the local authorities.
“Why don’t you just kill the Mayor?” queried Seymour. “He and a few others are probably the only ones who are really corrupted.”
“He’s too well-guarded,” replied Viler. “We’ve lost a lot of good men to that Fat Fuhrer.”
***
Using the Oracle like a global positioning system, Withers had the notion that the Shadow Lord was in the city centre. When he parked the chariot a couple of blocks away, several armed men surrounded him. They pointed their weapons at him and motioned for him to get out of the vehicle.
One of them spoke on a chunky hand-held device. After a short while a few soldiers and Seymour came around the corner.
Seymour ran to Withers and grabbed his hand.
“It’s all right. He’s a friend of mine,” said Seymour.
Viler looked at Withers suspiciously. “Where did you come from? I know, I know. You’re on a special mission from Sylonia.”
“Well, you can do with all the help you can get,’ said Withers. He grabbed something from the chariot. All the soldiers’ guns were raised again, pointing at Withers. “Very alert. That’s impressive.” He put a black cloak and helmet on, over the top of his own clothes.
“What are you doing?” asked Viler, surprised. “You’ll be killed!”
“Then I’ll die fighting for the freedom of Udicia, won’t I?” said Withers, patting Viler’s arm. He grinned. “Get ready to back me up.”
***
Withers drove the chariot straight to the fortress of the town Mayor. At the gate, he bluffed the guard using the Oracle as a false ID.
Withers made his way up the stairs to the entrance of the building. Two guards were posted at the door. One of them gave him a funny look as if he noticed something was odd, but wasn’t sure what it was.
Withers marched along a corridor, past a number of offices, keeping his attention on any heat that came from the Oracle.
“Hey, soldier, what happened to your pants?”
A senior-looking officer was staring down at Withers’ clothing. His tan-coloured pants were out of place beneath the black cloak.
“Sorry, sir, I had to chase some rebels through the mud,” replied Withers apologetically. “By the way, I’ve got this message.” He grabbed the Oracle and held it towards the man. Suddenly, a surge of vibrations shot out of the Oracle, stunning the officer.
He quickly put the unconscious body in a corner and moved on. He rounded a corner to find another two sentries, guarding a main entrance to what appeared to be an important room. He walked straight towards them, but before they could grab their weapons, Withers quickly dispatched them with a surge from the Oracle.
Barging into the room, he immediately saw the fat Shadow Lord lounging on a couch, being hand-fed fruit by two scantily-clad young women.
Fat wasn’t the word for this greedy Dark Lord. He was repulsively overweight! He must be the size of a baby elephant, Withers thought.
“Well, if it isn’t the saviour of Udicia,” said the Fat Fuhrer. Two more guards raced through the door and positioned themselves between the Fuhrer and Withers.
Wither looked around the room, appalled at the amount of wealth in this large room. It looked like the tomb of an ancient Pharaoh of Egypt.
“Saviour?” said Withers, disgusted. He picked up a large gold dinner plate and studied the design on it. “There’s enough wealth here to give everyone in this land a very comfortable life!”
The Fat Fuhrer laughed.
Withers was not impressed and threw the gold plate out through the front window like a frisbee. Glass exploded outward from the front window, and the golden discus flew out into the street. That was the signal for Viler’s men to start their attack on the compound. There was sudden gunfire outside and then a loud explosion.
“Get him!” snapped the Fat Fuhrer. The two young women screamed and ran from the room, as several guards appeared and prepared to engage Withers.
Seeing that he was largely out-numbered, Withers held the Oracle in front of him with one hand and waited for its response. At that moment, a huge sonic force expelled from the Oracle and directed its destructive energy towards the guards, just as they were about to open fire.
The invisible energy was like a silent explosion, and the guards were picked up and thrown through the air, crashing into the booty that was spread all over the room.
The Fat Fuhrer was furious. He immediately engaged a levitation device from his belt and began to float in the air. His body began to transform. The Fat Fuhrer went from a very overweight human male, that was unbelievably floating in the air, to a grotesque, giant black slug with piercing red eyes. Its huge mouth opened wide, like a great shark about to attack.
“My God,” muttered Withers, raising the Oracle.
He intended to throw it into that very mouth, but a long black tongue shot out and knocked the Oracle aside, making a clang amongst the hoard of treasures.
Withers summoned its return, but as there was so much clutter, the Oracle only made it halfway back before becoming stuck.
The giant slug laughed an inhuman laugh.
The long tongue shot out of the slug’s mouth again, wrapping itself around Wither’s right leg. He tripped backward and began to be dragged towards that gaping mouth.
Withers tried grabbing hold of some of the treasures, but nothing in his reach was heavy enough or anchored strongly enough for him to pull against this tug-of-war to the death.
Just as he thought his was going to end up inside the monster, an invisible beam severed the tongue.
Withers turned to see Seymour and a group of soldiers, including Viler.
Withers dived out of the way as a barrage of energy-bolts pummelled the slug. The beams had little effect, other than making the Shadow Lord very angry. Hundreds of little spikes began to appear all over its skin.
Seymour immediately raised his hand and fired an even bigger burst of invisible energy at the Shadow Lord. Just as the slug was puffing up to fire all his deadly spikes, the energy from Seymour’s ring entered its gaping mouth.
Instead of exploding, the slug imploded. A huge pile of black goo landed on the floor, like a giant bowl of black jelly being spilt.
Withers looked at Seymour. “I’m impressed.”
“So am I,” said Viler. “I’ve never seen such a compact sonic weapon before.” He stared at the ring on the middle finger of Seymour’s right hand. He noticed it had a symbolic flower on it, with ten petals.
“Well, you’re not short of wealth now,” said Withers, quickly changing the subject. “At least you now have plenty of money to re-build your country.”
“The Fat Fuhrer took everything!” said the freed soldier in shocked surprise. “I never realised he had amassed so much wealth.”
“We got our good man back," said Viler, hugging a man who had just been freed. He turned and also hugged Seymour. “This is Zepth, my top lieutenant.” They exchanged handshakes. “Let’s celebrate with our new friends with a feast tonight!”
“We’ll accept your hospitality,” said Withers, grinning, and turned to Zepth. “Bring your son. He’s been waiting for you.”
“Oh,” said Zepth, “how do you know him?”
“He gets around.”
***
“This is a lovely banquet,” said Seymour, chewing on a drumstick that he assumed belonged to some sort of fowl. “What type of bird is this?”
“Nema,” said Zepth. “It’s a flightless, domesticated bird which also produces delicious eggs.”
“But you would have heard of them from Sylonia,” commented Viler. He looked at Withers, raising his eyebrows.
“OK,” said Withers, picking up on Viler’s suspicions. “I’ll let you know more about us, but I need your help first.”
“You need to finish off more bad guys!” said Zepth’s young son, Nel.
“You’re sharp, son,” said Withers, “and you’re right. If all goes well, when you grow up there won’t be such a thing as bad guys. You’ll be able to use that same witness state your father used to destroy the Shadows, to lead your world into a new, loving and compassionate society.”
“Mister, what are Shadows?” asked Nel.
“Vampires, I thought,” suggested Viler.
“They are the people who are not touched by the light, the source of truth,” said Withers, “and the further they’re away from that light, the darker they become.”
“For a moment, I could have sworn I saw a monster floating there and not a fat man,” said Viler, “or was I imagining it?”
Well, the Goddess would have made sure the unenlightened never saw a Shadow’s true form, thought Seymour. “Nah, you must have been imagining it.”