55
Covenants
"'Of course, no matter what the eventuation, with all the Satanic and pre-Satanic facilities at my disposal, I should be in no great danger from these addlepated bigots.'" – Clark Ashton Smith, "The Holiness of Azedarac"
The castle stood alone in perpetual twilight. The sun would be rising soon in the human and digital worlds, but it would never rise here. Jagged spires stood on every hand, the walls grotesquely carved, the arched windows unlighted. Broad stone walkways connected many of these, but in the darkness it was difficult to tell if anything was making use of them. In the entire massive structure there appeared to be only one lit room. From the center of the fortress there rose the highest of its towers, supported by spiked buttresses, and at its bulbous pinnacle wide arches provided access to a circular throne room illuminated by gigantic blazing torches.
The arches only pierced half of the room's circumference, and against the room's unbroken back wall was the throne itself. The great chair was ornately and impressively figured, but no mortal being could look upon it without fear, for here sat Demon. He remained as the Chosen Children had last seen him the previous December, mantled in deep red, arcane symbols covering his robes. Clawed, scaly hands gripped the throne's armrests. From the blackness beneath the hood his blue eyes blazed more brightly than the torches. He was growing impatient.
Something had happened, and it was past the time for his servants to return with the news of what it was. He had felt it many hours ago. There was a stirring of the darkness composing this world, a change in its aspect that he could feel as one feels a change in temperature. Black-winged Digimon, his loyal followers, had been deployed immediately, but none had yet come back to tell him the nature of what he had sensed.
Demon stood and went to the arch directly across from the throne. Below him spread the castle, and the dark barren fields beyond its outermost walls. Nowhere in the World of Darkness was bright or vibrant, but here the air and skies were even darker than in other realms. Demon, however, had little need of light to see, and there was no sign of his scouts as he scanned the horizon.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sense of something behind him. Turning around, he saw that the intruder was, to all appearances, a human being, smiling placidly as he stood beside the throne. There was no sign of how he had made his entrance.
"Who are you?" Demon asked, any anger he might have felt tempered by curiosity. Not just any human, if that's what this person was, could enter the Dark World, and very few of those would look so pleased about it.
"Oh, that's not important," the man said. Despite the brightness of the torches, his face remained in shadow. Only his glittering eyes could be seen clearly, and the flash of his teeth when he spoke. "I wanted to come by and see how you were doing, since you've been a little slow on the uptake."
"What do you mean?" the demon lord asked, blue eyes narrowing.
"Can't you feel it? Your second chance draws nigh. An opportunity to erase your last amusing failure."
Demon's temper was rising, but he was beginning to put things together. Assuming this person was telling the truth, the change Demon had felt was a weakening of the barriers between worlds.
"You have another shot at the Dark Seed," the man continued, confirming Demon's suspicions.
"And how does that concern you, vermin?"
The Dark Man smiled more broadly.
"It means you'll be having a rematch with the Chosen Children, who I've taken an interest in recently. I wonder if your luck will be any better this time."
"They cannot outwit me again."
"Time will tell," the man scoffed.
"How dare you mock me," Demon snarled. "Begone." He raised a pale hand, and a jet of fire poured from its palm.
The intruder spread his own hands in front of himself, as if to block Demon's attack. A human would have been incinerated, but the flames actually stopped as they struck the hands. The Dark Man was pushed backwards perhaps an inch, then braced himself against the floor and swept his arms to either side of him. The fireball, split in two, scorched the throne room's floor behind him, and died out. He was unharmed. His clothes were singed, but even this damage repaired itself – the fabric literally growing back.
"Impossible…" Demon muttered.
"There's no need for that," the Dark Man chuckled. "I didn't come to fight, I came to make a proposition."
"What do you mean?"
Demon's tone was suspicious, menacing, but he was intrigued by this odd being nevertheless.
"Well, let me make sure I understand you. You entered the human world not too long ago looking for the Dark Seed. Do you still want it?"
Demon said nothing.
"And what did you want it for?" the Dark Man persisted.
"That isn't your business," Demon said. "I see no reason to answer your questions when I know nothing about you. Get to the point." The Dark Man laughed a little at that, and Demon at that moment sensed something unusual about the man, an inherent quality he couldn't put a name to.
"You're refreshingly direct," the Dark Man said. "I can appreciate that after the people I've been working with."
"You begin to bore me, and that is dangerous," said Demon. "What could you possibly have to offer to a Demon Lord?"
"Several things. I suppose you've heard of Lilithmon? Recently I gave her and her followers access to the Digital World and the human world. As you can see, I have a knack for entering and leaving this World of Darkness."
"I have yet to see you leave," Demon said, but he didn't really doubt that this man could do so if he wished.
"Soon, perhaps," said the Dark Man, grinning. "But I can get you out, and any number of your servants. Furthermore, I offer you the Dark Seeds."
Demon's eyes widened. The Dark Seeds! Was that what he felt? But no, the aura of this man did not match that of what he sought.
"What are you thinking?" he said. "I know you cannot have them."
"I don't."
"Nor could you ever obtain them."
"Don't be so sure," the Dark Man said, raising a didactic finger. "We have already made progress in this direction, and I suspect that soon our plans will come to fruition in a very big way."
"'We?' And just who are these allies of yours that you put so much faith in?"
"Faith!" the Dark Man crowed, doubling over in sudden laughter.
"Stop that!" Demon commanded, enraged at his visitor's irreverent attitude. "Answer me!"
Recovering, the Dark Man straightened himself.
"At the moment my talents are at the disposal of a servant of the High Priest," he said.
Demon gave an audible smirk.
"Is that how things are? Dagomon could never succeed where I have once failed."
"Maybe, maybe not," the Dark Man said. "But wouldn't it be best to avoid a conflict of interests? The High Priest's followers are everywhere, scattered throughout the worlds. Vamdemon's minions were far from being your equals, and look at all the trouble they caused."
"Is that a threat?" Demon asked softly.
"Of course not!" the Dark Man chuckled. "Who threatens Demon? But consider my offer, the benefits to yourself."
The massive torches began to sink low, as though their inexhaustible fuel was suddenly insufficient. The Dark Man stood cloaked in shadow, and every moment saw it dim, until only the gleam of his eyes stood out from the darkness of the throne room.
"And how will you receive my answer?" Demon asked.
"Don't worry," the Dark Man said, his teeth flashing. "I'll know."
The gloom became complete before the torches flared up again, resuming their wonted brightness and revealing the Dark Man to be gone. Demon extinguished them entirely with an irritated wave of his hand.
"Just who are you?" he asked the empty room. Only silence. "No matter. The end result will be the same."
Sato met the Dark Man at the top of the stairs to the black shrine.
"How did it go?" he asked.
"It could have been worse. It shouldn't take him long to come to a decision, and I expect him to be reasonable."
"That doesn't sound like a success." Sato's voice was cold. The Dark Man gave him a sidelong glance.
"Don't you trust my judgment?"
Sato opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again without saying anything. The Dark Man, meanwhile, turned and walked away. He knew that if things went as he planned, Demon's decision would have no bearing on anything. It was time to visit Wisemon again.
Wisemon wrote at a furious pace. Occasionally he would stop to consult one of the tomes of his study, but the occurrence was becoming less and less frequent. The missing pieces of the puzzle the Book had presented to him had been assembled in this room, and it was only a matter now of putting them in their places. He could now look back on all his dim existence as a slow, groping climb to where he now stood in this universe, in all universes. Only a few days ago everything had been so diffuse, but then there had come that night in the moon-bathed desert when it had been as though a hand had reached down for his from the heavens, to end the tortuous climb and draw him up at a comet's speed to a place among the stars. Now he understood.
Finally the pen came to a stop. There was nothing more to write, and for the first time, no more pages to be written on. The Book was complete.
From behind him came soft clapping.
"So it is done. I knew you wouldn't let me down."
Wisemon closed the Book, stood and turned.
"I am ready, Dark One. All that I am is at your disposal."