Prisoner Read online

  Prisoner

  By Andrew S. Ball

  Copyright 2020 Andrew S. Ball

  License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this eBook. Like a real book, this eBook is meant to be shared as you see fit between friends and family. It may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this eBook, please show support for the author by purchasing a copy of your own. All other rights are reserved. Thank you and enjoy!

  Table of Contents

  Prologue: Wheeling and Dealing

  Chapter 1: Down the Rabbit Hole

  Chapter 2: Running with the Devils

  Chapter 3: Ten Percent

  Chapter 4: Purgatory

  Chapter 5: Rules of Engagement

  Chapter 6: Power Play

  Chapter 7: Schism

  Chapter 8: State of the Union

  Chapter 9: The Prince of Wallachia

  Chapter 10: Go Browns

  Chapter 11: Smith and Wesson

  Chapter 12: Teaming Up

  Chapter 13: Games in the Dark

  Chapter 14: Beyond Thunderdome

  Chapter 15: Double Play

  Chapter 16: Behind the Scenes

  Chapter 17: Pregame

  Chapter 18: Fight Night

  Chapter 19: Monsters

  Chapter 20: Crypt Keepers

  Chapter 21: The Contractor Program

  Chapter 22: End of the Line

  Epilogue

  ####

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Novels by Andrew S. Ball

  ####

  For my grandmother, who taught me to appreciate the finer things in life.

  ####

  Prologue

  Wheeling and Dealing

  Two individuals stood inside an office overlooking Dis, the capital of the Demon Empire.

  The first was the Emperor, Beelzebub. Although humanoid in form, his skin was the color of fresh blood. Two ivory horns protruded from his forehead, and where there would be a nose on a man’s face, there was only a stretch of unbroken skin on the devil's. He wore a plain black shirt that stretched tight across broad shoulders—even with the top three buttons undone—and crisp black slacks. It was professional but comfort-first attire.

  The second was an ambassador of the Klide, Xikanthus. Xik’s appearance was that of a man stretched thin by a funhouse mirror. His torso was a tiny cereal box perched on spindly legs. A fat frog’s head rested on his odd silhouette, bulbous cheeks projecting over narrow shoulders and wide red eyes atop his forehead. He was dressed in a black pinstripe suit, but the details were wrong—too many buttons, two breast pockets, as if the tailor understood the general style of the clothing but not the function of the various parts. He held a wooden cane in white-gloved fingers, looking like a bit player in a vaudeville act.

  Xik stared at Beelzebub's beady black eyes, blinking occasionally.

  Beelzebub did not blink.

  Xik held all the cards, and had all the advantages, but he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit nervous under that ceaseless stare. Beelzebub was—for now—the most powerful magical being that existed in the twin human and demon worlds. His magical aura couldn't affect Xik, but iron-fisted tyrants had a different aura that had nothing to do with magic.

  The office itself was far more mundane than either of its occupants. The work desk and the chairs facing it were a dark wood. The upholstery was a matching deep forest green. If not for the wall of windows revealing a sprawling view of the bustling spaceport, it might have been any other office.

  In the distance, the docks bustled with activity. Ships landed and took off in gouts of flame and chemical exhaust. It formed a permanent smog that drifted around the port. Cargo was rapidly loaded and unloaded, shuttled to and from the base of the ships by container-hauling cruisers that hovered above the ground, each one easily five times the size of the 18-wheelers that performed a similar function on the human world.

  The spaceport was the beating heart of the capital, a soaring construct of steel and light. It loomed high over an already towering cityscape, a twisted and tangled network of buildings built higher and closer to that centerpiece like metal piranhas leaping to get their piece of flesh. The twin demon suns radiated with a blue-white glow, but the ash and soot scattered the light into a sickly grey haze.

  After entering the room—and somewhat surprising its occupant—Xik kept himself very still. Negotiations had only just commenced, and he was not entirely sure Beelzebub wouldn't attack him. If he did, it was unlikely he could harm Xik, but it would certainly harm the prospect of polite conversation.

  And in the unlikely—but theoretically possible—case that Beelzebub could harm him directly, the desk and chairs between them would provide about as much protection as tissue paper.

  “I'm not the ignorant fool you suppose me to be,” Beelzebub said. His voice crackled like hot coals, as though a fire was about to ignite. “Only those without magical talent can become a contractor. At least give me the credit of having eyes and ears on Earth.”

  “I apologize if I offended,” Xik said. “Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. Allow me to introduce myself properly.” His words came slowly, each one carefully selected as if drawn from his hat one-by-one. “I am Xikanthus Vol'mund Dovian pom’Nafalstra, Klide representative to both Earth, and the Empire. If it pleases you, I am happy to be addressed as Xik.” The frog cleared his throat. “I am here, your Excellency, with an offer of allegiance. The same offer given to the humans.”

  “You are here to attempt to use me in your games.”

  “This isn't a game.”

  “Don't patronize me,” Beelzebub said.

  “Do you suppose to know everything about contractors?” Xik asked.

  “I know enough.”

  Xik glanced at a chair on his side of the desk. “Might I sit?”

  Beelzebub gestured with a finger. The chair quietly slid across the carpet and stopped behind Xik. Xik took the offered seat, folding his stick-legs over one another. He waved his own hand, and a cup of tea filled with a steaming purple ink appeared in his fingers. He lifted the cup and took a long slurp.

  Beelzebub kept standing, keeping his gaze on Xik. His expression remained a flat stare.

  “I have, perhaps, manipulated some humans,” Xik said. “Left some things unsaid, if only for their own good. With you, I would seek a more open partnership, though not exactly in the sense you mentioned earlier.”

  “I'm listening.”

  “That I am a diplomat is only part of the truth,” Xik said. “Ambassador is a loose term. An accidental mistranslation, shall we say. I am a member of the Anti-Vorid Bureau, Department of Node World Defense and Development. My job is to halt the spread of the Vorid. We seek to encircle the Vorid through the multiverse, creating a net through which they cannot spread.”

  Beelzebub's eyes held a fleck of curiosity. “And Earth is one of these node worlds, I assume?”

  “And so is the demon world, since it tied itself together with Earth way back when,” Xik said. “A world possessing many connections to other worlds is inherently more valuable when traveling through the multiverse. Such travel takes time and energy. Longer routes become prohibitive. Key connectors are pivotal on the scale of the greater conflict.

  “More specifically, nodes are worlds positioned at intersections that have been deemed strategically vital by our prediction algorithms. These worlds are given higher priority ratios and assigned a development agent. In this case,” Xik said, tipping his hat, “myself.”

  “And contractors are your weapon of choice to accomplish this task?”

  “They are the tip of the spear, you might say,” Xik said. “Mak
ing worlds aware of their invasion and giving them the means to fight back—that is my job.

  “The ability of the Vorid to spread quickly, and thereby accrue the blunt force upon which they rely, depends on ease of movement and consumption of worlds without being discovered. They do this by replacing the consumed with soul-shells, and these buffer a greater magical reaction in which the society as a whole forgets that the consumed individual ever existed.” Xik poked a finger up; this left his teacup behind, floating in front of him. “Of course, this punches holes in a society. People cannot justify their existence if they forget their own parents. The following pervasive discord and perceived madness leads to widespread collapse, accelerating the ease of total absorption.

  “What the Vorid cannot afford is to get bogged down. They want the maximum output from minimum input. That is the weakness of their system of warfare—and capitalizing upon this is how the Klide are building the foundation for a counterattack. A direct assault is untenable. We want to stretch them thin, bait them into overcommitting their resources, then cut them off at the knees, so to speak.”

  Beelzebub listened to Xik without much interruption. Xik felt the tension leave the devil's expression; he was less to think his time wasted if he was getting valuable perspective, regardless of the deal offered. That was Xik's foot in the proverbial door.

  “It would seem,” Beelzebub said, “that the humans have bogged them down and driven them away. That doesn't explain why you're sitting in my office.”

  “You think this is bogged down?” Xik took another sip from his ink tea, then set it back down in the air. “The siege launched a few days ago on New York was a minor probe, the lord sent to lead it the lowliest of scouts in their warrior class. His death is nothing. Stimulated by the setback, other, greater minds will turn toward Earth. They will recognize our hand at work. They will move quickly, before the seeds I have planted can grow into trees and provide the shade that Earth and your empire so desperately need. Or, perhaps they won't. We don't have a complete understanding of how they prioritize targets. Their zealotry tends to fog up our logic.”

  “You speak of the demons and the humans as a single unit,” Beelzebub said.

  Xik peered at Beelzebub from behind his cup. He'd expected more interest, more energy. The fact that Beelzebub was showing neither meant that he was content to let Xik talk. Maybe he was waiting to hear something he didn't already know.

  “The Demon Empire and Earth universes have been classified as two parts of a single whole due to their interlocked nature. Any human or demon that could become weapon enough—backed by their society—would suffice to complete my mission. And that is where you, Your Excellency, have an advantage.”

  Beelzebub's shark teeth revealed themselves again. “I already have my entire society behind me,” he said. “Whereas this Daniel is a pariah.”

  “Precisely.” Xik released his emptied cup; it vanished. He swung his legs back open and set one hand on each knee, facing where Beelzebub stood. “You are in a position of great leverage to take on the Vorid, given the tools to do so. The humans are paranoid regarding the contractor magic to the point of embracing suicide. Daniel was the largest, strongest tree, by far. They have pulled him up by the roots.”

  “He was idiotic to let them,” Beelzebub said. “But then, he was only human.”

  “You are an emperor,” Xik said. “Your society will not question you. And Daniel is in Hell—in your prison.”

  Beelzebub folded his arms, considering. “Alright, Xik. Make me a contractor. I'll kill the boy and fight your war.”

  “I thought as much myself, but then I had a better idea,” Xik said, spreading his hands. “Ripen the fruit, first. Let Daniel work his way through Hell. Inevitably, he'll kill plenty of inmates. While he's linked to the prison, his magic will remain restricted, even if his power grows stronger. When the time is right, you waltz in and pluck it for yourself.”

  “What if I don't like your plan?” Beelzebub asked.

  “I like my plan,” Xik said, “and you’ll have to go along with it if you want to be a contractor.”

  Beelzebub’s eyes narrowed to pinpricks. “It sounds to me like you're trying to protect your original investment.”

  “I am trying to create a weapon in the most efficient manner possible, while simultaneously ensuring that Earth remains out of Vorid hands,” Xik said. “The inmates of Hell represent a collection of some of the most powerful demons and humans from both worlds. Let Daniel…process them, on your behalf.”

  “I can slaughter and absorb the inmates with or without your magic,” Beelzebub said. “It won’t be hard to convince the humans to let me kill their inmates as well during these times of war. One less worry.”

  “You would have already done so if it would do you any good,” Xik said. “You've hit your ceiling, haven't you? You did that a long time ago.”

  Beelzebub remained silent, but his face grew stony.

  “What's the recovery rate of your spell? Five percent? Ten, at most.” Xik chuckled. “Your growth has stagnated. Your magic reserves are already so large that harvesting more souls is a waste of your time—like adding raindrops into an ocean. And as your empire grows larger, it will be harder and harder for you to keep a grip on things by the threat of your power alone. Like a child trying to hold a ball too big for small hands.” Xik brushed a hand across his knee, wiping a speck of dust from his pant leg. “I can change that, but I require cooperation on your end to demonstrate that you’re worthy of trust. I have a plan, and it ends with you at the top. You have the qualifications.”

  A soft, faint rumble filled the room. Xik could see a huge transport ship lifting off the ground in the distance, propelled by rockets and a black haze of gravitational magic. Once it reached a safe height, the magic expanded, wrapping the entire ship up the sides and around the top.

  “The recovery rate is somewhat over seven percent,” Beelzebub admitted.

  “Crude,” Xik said. “By your standards, it's the most potent of magic, but by mine”—Xik gestured toward the spaceship out the window—“you're trying to build a spacecraft with scrap iron and spit.”

  “Get,” Beelzebub said, “to the point.”

  Xik cleared his throat. “The contractor enchantment has an initial 87 percent recovery rate, and it immediately stabilizes the new soul's energy—you don't have to refine anything yourself. This is why it's so potent, why they grow so fast—no escaped energy after the transfer.”

  Beelzebub's hands clenched tight. His black needle-nails retracted, saving him from gouging his own palms. His eyes were wide. “That isn't possible. Souls fade too quickly, it would have to—”

  “It was reverse engineered from Vorid enchantments,” Xik said, “but it's still not as good as the original. If you want to know the theory, you'll have to ask them. We have our own specialties, but when it comes to energy extraction from living beings, the Vorid are the foremost experts we have encountered in the multiverse.”

  “What do the Klide specialize in?” Beelzebub said.

  “A few things. Speed of travel, efficiency, obfuscation.” Xik met the devil's gaze. “Destruction.”

  For the first time, Beelzebub looked away. He followed the departing freighter as it left the field of view of the window. “I understand,” he said, “that only those without developed magical talent can become contractors.”

  “Anyone with some magic, no matter how tiny the spark, can become a contractor.”

  “You lied, then,” Beelzebub said.

  “I left some things unsaid. It’s not my fault everyone else filled in the blanks with their own assumptions.”

  “Why did you lie,” Beelzebub said, pressing his point, “about who can become a contractor?”

  The quiet extended out an uncomfortably long time. Beelzebub's nails clicked against one another. Xik let the question hang without a response, determined to outlast him. He'd given the devil plenty enough as it was.

  Beelzebub broke t
he silence. “What do you want in exchange for the spell?”

  “Daniel will gather the souls in Hell. In the meantime, I want you to aid Earth with your military forces. The Vorid aren't done.”

  “It is as you said—I am still emperor in name, but my power grows weaker over time. Mounting concerted efforts can be...challenging. Especially amongst such varied species.”

  “Then you had best get started,” Xik said. “Besides, I can assist your efforts. A little nudge here, a flick there. They'll have motivation to meet with you when you call for them. The war effort might even serve to strengthen your authority.”

  “We don’t go to Earth without summoning rituals,” Beelzebub said. “Demons have always followed that aspect of the treaty.”

  “The humans have already come to you to renegotiate that, haven’t they? They’re beginning to understand the risks after New York was destroyed. Their treaty holders didn’t all meet up solely to banish Daniel, after all.”

  Beelzebub squinted. Xik could practically see the gears working in his head. This was the fact that Beelzebub could not escape. He didn't have to accept Xik's offer of power, but he absolutely needed the humans and their world to survive. He needed Earth, and he needed it intact, with all its billions of lives. It was time to push him.

  “The prison is threatened,” Xik said.

  Beelzebub turned away and stepped up to the wall of windows. Another ship had landed, replacing the last in the same docking bay, this time a mining vessel. The steam of coolant roiled around the bulky, space-scarred hull, clouding over the smaller ships darting around it.

  “The prison is fine,” Beelzebub said.

  “It's creaking a bit, then,” Xik said. “An engine running low on oil. I suspect that your chief inmate will want a bit of violent remuneration.”

  Beelzebub turned on his heel. “You would threaten me, here? Can you feel the enchantments in this room? I could kill you in eight different ways, ambassador, and all of them are excruciatingly painful.”