Free Demonworld by Kyle B.Stiff Page A

believed that man was made in the image of a great creator, an architect who hid behind the form of things, and it was their sacred duty to free mankind from the chains of demonic ideology so that a vast, wild, and inconceivable creative force could be unleashed upon the universe. He saw that some worshipped the sun, and dreamed of creating a new world fit for a new type of man, and they were willing to kill for their peaceful ideals. Others were obsessed with stories that included a pantheon of gods and heroes. Over and over throughout history they looked for stories and created new ones; just as many times their records were thrown into fires stoked by rulers, pontiffs, hatchetmen. Some observed and recorded and worshipped a world of natural laws and order, while others prayed to dark forces that lived in a world beyond reason. The only thing the Founders had in common was that they hated the flesh demons and hated the line of kings who sacrificed humans to demons in order to survive. But even in that, Wodi could see that some of the men only hated the demons and demon-kings because they hungered for power themselves.
     
    As the men turned about, hands clasping and unclasping, he saw a large tapestry hanging over them. Many great, round gears all intertwined in three sets of ten and then three more, and if one should turn, they all would turn…
     
    Wodi returned and saw the gray leaves of the tree curling and un-curling in the light of the moon.
     
    Even in Haven , thought Wodi. They built a land of egalitarianism free of demons and free of brutality. But even in Haven there was an old cancer that bided its time and is now making its presence known .
     
    “ A cave,” said Saul. Wodi turned to him slowly. “There’s a cave down there. Among the stones at the foot of the hill, where the creek turns.”
     
    Wodi thought about it and realized that the tree must have a mirror image of itself that went down into the earth, into darkness. He looked and saw that Marlon was snoring loudly, his head thrown back into a crushed bird’s nest. Hermann was lost in his own world while Iduna and Peter discussed something among themselves.
     
    “ Let’s go,” said Wodi, and the two scampered down the tree.
     
    * * *
     
    The purple light of the flesh demon’s belly made dancing shadows of the tree trunks as he made his pilgrimage to the eastern end of the valley. He was in a pit of frustration. Just hours ago he’d had the chance to grab several strange men, swing them by their ankles, and dash their heads against wood, stone, a bed of sharp pebbles – anything he could imagine – but he had been ordered to leave the men alive and come to the nephew’s lair. He did not know why. If he had not been taken from his duties, he could have picked through the organs and wiry veins and plumbed their mysteries. He could have made a mound of their intestines and kicked it and watched the scattering in awe. He could have been in his nest smelling their hair, thick with sweat and the musk of fear, at this very moment. But no, he had been ordered to go on this long, cold walk. He wanted answers!
     
    He came to a large clearing filled with tall, twisting spires of glowing pink crystals, living sculptures, frozen blood. His hooved feet clattered against the glass floor and glowing liquid beneath the surface followed his steps. Something like eyes blinked at him in the crystal spires, orbs dim and twisted behind the glass. This was the lair of the children of God in the oasis; it was alive, a sleeping god.
     
    He felt a brother in his mind, then saw Bilatzailea resting on an altar of crystal between two tall towers. She was pale and small and had long pitch-black hair and, because she was a master of pheromonal influence, her victims considered her beautiful. They always fell for her red lips and round hips; under her hypnotic influence, they never noticed the grime under her long yellow nails and the stench of old meat on her breath.