The Summit of Princes, Part One

This is what I consider the 'beginning' of the Fiends and Magi storyline. In this novella, Blackburn reveals his plans for world domination, creates his children, and prepares for the start of his plans.

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The first thing the Emirs of Shadow were aware of was how long Blackburn made them wait. He did not show up at the specified time, and they had waited many clicks after that time, but yet, he still did not show. He had made such a big deal of the whole thing.

I am the only King of Darkness in the entire world, he said, and it burned deep, the humiliation, in all of them — the fact that it was true. They were a hundred different Emirs of Shadow — beings that lingered on the edge of true royalty and godhood, but they stood like broken, domesticated animals, waiting for their master to come home. None of them dared to move a muscle.

It was the most terrifying motley assembly of freaks that anyone had ever seen. A human being wouldn’t even be able to exist or live near such a collection of creatures. Each Emir of Shadow was a horrifying monstrosity unto themselves, gigantic creatures of tentacles, legs, arms, faces, jaws, mouths. Their bodies defied common logic and biological makeups you could find on Earth.
There were Fiends that were little more than a massive, black, solid form, but held secret powers and curses within, evil things that would wreck human civilization if left unchecked; Tuk’thot was such a creature, a powerful old Emir that lingered near the edge with the older, more patient Fiends.

He was a being of great size and strength, a Fiend nearly thirty feet of height, great muscles sat along his chest and his arms. His body was roughly bipedal, but halfway down, he was more squid-like, his tentacles ending in massive, hooked, nonsensically sharp claws that could rip through titanium like it was tissue paper. Eyes sat along him all the way, jaws and faces and mouths, and the most expressive, detailed one sat high above his shoulders, connected at an odd angle to his torso.

He clicked with his jaws and his voiceboxes, rolling a general call throughout the field.

“He makes us wait,” Tuk’thot said, suddenly, breaking the silence. “He allows us to sit here, hungry. Our minions are feasting on the rewards of their hunts and conquests as we speak, taking our due from their masters. We could be gaining strength. We could be plotting his usurpation.”

“Of course he makes us wait, fool,” another Emir hissed, sitting down by the way, his claws resting in the water of a creek that ran down the side of the mountain they sat on. “He is King and we are not. He is powerful. I have met him once. It would be wise if we submitted to him. Our nests and prepared strengths, added to his own, would be mighty in the face of the paltry resistance of this world. We could finally add Earth to the domain of the Darkened Sky. Think of it. Victory, finally. We would no longer have to hunt in this world, we could move to other realms and other places. Different ones.”

Tuk’thot looked his way with ten eyes, annoyed. Dur’that was a creature he found terribly clever and twice as cowardly, yet he still held a near similar amount of strength as Tuk’thot did. He did not have the proper pride that a Prince of the Shadows should carry; he surrendered and gave up too easily. One day, that fool would end up killed by his quarry and some Magi would take great glory over his corpse. Fool idiot. Stupid idiot.

“Speaking of sedition right before a King is among is — well, that’s a decision,” came a great, deep voice from the center of the field. Tuk’thot quivered internally, only a little, but still.

There lurked a powerful Emir, maybe even the strongest one among them. Tra’cass’Un was closer to forty — not thirty — feet tall, and held eight arms that had hands with ten fingers each, massive paws of extremely dextrous fingers. His whole body held enormous strength and magical energies, great different powers and abilities sitting within him. It was more of a general feeling that Tuk’thot got; he couldn’t tell specifics unless they fought, and Tuk’thot knew that he would lose to such a Fiend. Tra’Cass’Un was of incredible might, a great son of one of the Outer Gods, even, he may have been, and that meant a Fiend like Tuk’thot steered clear.

“Tuk’thot, would you like to say more?” the great Fiend asked him.

“No — no. You are right. I was the fool. I will stay silent,” Tuk’thot promised him.

A great cackle of chuckles echoed throughout the peak and Tuk’thot turned half-onyx in humiliation. Great. The Summit was starting off and already, he had to act weak and subservient in front of everyone. There went any chance of any Fiend here thinking that he was above them.

“Tra’Cass’Un, are you Blackburn’s personal lackey?” Another voice from the center of the field came, then. The crashing of concrete, the screech of a mother doe, the wrecked body of her fawn before her; these were the sounds in Tuk’thot’s ear when that voice spoke.

Yet another powerful Emir sat there; this was another one that Tuk’hot was scared of. Thick dark shade, wrapped up like a massive sitting cloak, like there was a hole in the world, strange claws and arms warping out of it like it was a normal gap between realities. Occasionally, an eye would run across it, like a creature peering through the void, checking on merely one of many places that it was attacking or existing in at once; Gu’Rash was terrifying thing to even look at and Tuk’thot did not know how he would kill such a Fiend.

It would require great magic. Great power.

“Nay. I am not. But I am no fool. When a being like him exists — the greatest son of Untuntun’olos’Arak, the Great Trillion-Eyed God of The Eternal Black — you make way for him. You say your yes sirs as the humans of this world like to parrot; you do what you can to survive his presence. Only a few of you have been near him. When he arrives, you will understand.”

What a terrible day to have eyes: a hundred monstrosities sat on a great large red hill, very isolated and deserted. Blackburn had managed to find a beautiful enough place, and alone, so that Magi would not bother them during such a meeting.

They were all too busy talking. They were all too busy exchanging words.

One moment, Blackburn was not there.

And then the next —

To be next to him was like being next to the sun, or a supernova maybe, might have been the better comparison; Tuk’thot did not think his power would truly eclipse theirs so terribly, and yet it did.

He swept in like an overwhelming storm, like bad times were here; Tuk’thot could see clear as day that there wasn’t a single Emir of Shadow sitting in that field that felt safe. He was in the full power and might of his being, making no effort to show or conceal even an ounce of the enormous strength he had been born with.

He strode in like he owned the place, and Tuk’thot hated how arrogant he was, how every step was made with such careless, relaxed pace, like there was none there who challenged him. He was so powerful, Tuk’thot imagined nearly nothing was beyond him. Tuk’thot wondered if Blackburn would ever tire of his preparations and simply begin the war against the humans by sinking their greatest nations into the sea.

He was the cock of the walk and the main event of the show; Tuk’thot was in awe of him. Now he knew. Now he knew why this was the King.

His body was in two parts, so great was his royalty; first, the top half of his body was simple and nearly human in design, almost, if it weren’t for the multiple faces and arms and horrors that lurked on every inch of his skin. Blackburn held six great arms on either side of him, his chest a massive, huge thing, his arms just as large; there were huge claws that lurked on the edge of each hand, massive knives of darkened death that Tuk’thot imagined could end him in a heartbeat.

Below the middle of his torso, his body was less standard. His body distended into some sort of… cloud-like thing, a massive series of darkened tentacles that held yawning jaws and holes to places that happiness could be sucked into and never return. His body itself seemed like a minefield of places of death and surrender and destruction, like the greater his being and mass became, the more and more he would impose such a state on the world and universe around him.

“I SEE ALL HAVE WAITED FOR ME,” Blackburn spoke, and when he did, the effect on the mountain was immediate. To pretend that surrender was a choice was as foolish as it was a lie. There was no resistance. There was no backtalk. All talk of sedition had fled and Tuk’thot felt like he was asking to commit suicide with his words he had spoken before.

Of course Blackburn came when he wanted. He could do whatever he wanted.

“I HAVE CALLED ALL OF YOU HERE FOR AN ACCOUNTING OF YOUR REASONSINGS AND YOUR EXPLANATIONS. YOU IGNORE MY COMMANDS AND PRESUME TO DICTATE ME ON THE MATTERS OF HOW YOU HAVE DIVIDED THE FIEND TERRITORIES OF THE EARTH. YOU LOT PROBABLY THOUGHT IT WAS A CHANCE TO AMBUSH OR HUMILIATE ME. YET I DO NOT SEE A SINGLE EYE IN SIGHT WITH AS MUCH AS A GLARE OF FIGHT IN IT. AM I CORRECT?”

The field was silent. Tuk’thot could not stand against such a Fiend, there was a massive gap between them and there always would be. The amount of power and might Blackburn held in his hands…

It was a human-like name, Tuk’thot knew. He did not know why Blackburn selected it.

“Forgive us, your Majesty!” Tra’Cass’Un said, throwing himself at Blackburn’s feet. Pathetic sniveling dog, Tuk’thot thought.

“We — we — there were some here who made such talk. You are right. Some of us… we thought — we thought…”

Blackburn snorted. Again. Tuk’thot looked him over. What was it about him? Had he eaten so many humans he was starting to turn into one? Now there was a good Fiend joke. Tuk’thot almost chittered, but held back. He couldn’t draw more attention to himself.

“ENOUGH. I WILL FORGIVE THE BETRAYAL, AS JUVENILE AS IT WAS. YOU ARE LIKE LOST CHILDREN IN COMPARISON TO ME. I MUST BE VERY GRACIOUS IN EVERY INTERACTION THAT WE HAVE,” Blackburn said.

“Your Majesty, I — yes,” Tra’Cass’Un said, swallowing his pride. He swallowed it down quick, like it was spit or maybe shit; Tuk’thot was secretly overjoyed at what he had been forced to experience. No one was looking at him anymore at this point.

Blackburn ran his eyes over the lot of them like they were weak and pathetic; Tuk’thot could sense disappointment from him and felt lower and lesser because of it.

“IS THIS TRULY THE BEST EARTH HAS TO OFFER ME?” He suddenly said again, and Tuk’thot realized he was voicing the disappointment now, he was not even trying to keep it secret. And why would he? He was a King of Darkness, he had been alive for far longer than most Kings of Darkness generally lived. Usually, their conquests began nearly as soon as they set foot on the planet.

But not Blackburn. For years and years, he had worked hard to keep his existence secret, and had lurked in the world, growing his forces, building up his fortifications, growing in strength and might and size. There were rumors that in his infancy, right when he first arrived, he had been far weaker.

Even if that was true, it did not matter now. Now he was practically three steps from omnipotence.