The Kingdoms of Evil Read Free Page B

students were insufferable know-it-alls. "Thank you." Freetrick unfolded the square, revealing lines of text written in the same jagged, slanting hand that had addressed the envelope. The trailing tails and hooks of the uppercase letters seemed to twitch as Freetrick watched, and he had the impression that entire words would scuttle around the page when no one was watching. The words themselves, however, were in perfectly understandable Rationalist.
    Freetrick read aloud.
    Your Malevolence King Feerborg, under the Maelstrom Despot of Skrea, Grasper of the Bolt, Lord of Pain, Terror under all Terrors, High Master of the Blood, and Soon-to-be Ultimate Fiend of the Kingdoms of Evil,
     
    Avert Your wrath, oh Fiend, oh great and terrible Lord of Shadows, Your Malevolence. This loyal though eternally unworthy servant has rent asunder the souls of untold multitudes in order to abase himself before Your gaze.
    The peoples of the world tremble in fear and black joy rises in my own cruel bosom upon the announcement that, upon the death of our still dearly feared previous Despot Wrothborg, the now Penultimate Fiend, He from Whose Hands the Blood never Dried (may vengeance fly on swift wings to his murderers), You, oh Scourge of the Weak and Oppressor of the Helpless, have succeeded to the Skull Throne of Skrea, and shall become ruler and Ultimate Fiend of all the Kingdoms of Evil.
    As first surviving heir of our previous lamented Despot ( may his slayers' hearts beat their last between Your teeth), You will henceforth subjugate our land from Your new home at Castle Clouds-Gather, in the diseased heart of the Skrean Bleaklands, the bloody hub of the vast wheel of pain and suffering that is the Kingdoms of Evil. There, You will dispense the lash of Your cruel whim across the nations of the continent until the time of Your eventual murder, may Your future assassins writhe forever in torment.
    My organs rest within Your clutches,
    Duke Milielan DeMacabre, Castigator of the Lower Waters, Torturer of the Wallowers, Oppressor of the Highest Slaves, Keeper of the Clot of Torture, Lord of the Sarcophagus at Macabre, Arch Chancellor of the Villainous Council, and Minister of Heart-Squeezing for the Kingdoms of Evil.
    PS: Please find your hideous necromantic power, enclosed.
    "That's disgusting," said Kendrick "Who on earth would write something like that ? Aside from…" His brows came down, and his mouth shut into a tight, angry line. Kendrick, normally so unexpressive he scared people, was now positively radiating anger
    " Someone with a sense of humor, maybe ?" said Istain.
    "Istain, this is the Kingdoms of Evil ," said Madene, "Not one of your stupid jokes."
    "Maybe it's supposed to be viral advertising for something?" Freetrick wondered.
     "It doesn't sound very much like a party invitation. Are there any Kingdoms-of-Evil-themed events happening on campus right now?" Zathara asked.
    "Let's check." Istain stretched his left arm out in front of himself, palm facing his chest. A die-hard word-magic geek, he didn't need a magic mirror like Freetrick's. Instead, lines of crystal dust embedded in his skin glowed as Istain sketched runes onto the surface of his left hand: a prayer to the God of Words.
    " Campus events schedule…" Istain twiddled his thumb to scroll through a menu. " No," he said, swinging toward Freetrick, " I don't see any…huh." The tattoos on his hands and arms flared and dimmed, and Istain frowned. " Having trouble finding a connection " …better over here, but there's something weird that happens when I move over—" His arm brushed the letter, and Istain yelped as rainbow sparks blew out of his skin. " Burning libraries!"
    They all jumped back from Istain and the sparks vanished.
    " Oh gibberish ," Istain swore again, shaking specks of lights from his hands, " what the hell was that ?"
    " It was the letter," said Kendrick, darkly. "My worst fears are confirmed: an incursion, another god trying to interfere with the God of