Dark Labyrinth: The Nine Hells (Circle of Nine Book 1)

by Conny Conway

  Shiloh sighed and complained about the humidity.

  The druid grumbled about not having a dry spot for a fire to prepare the evening feast, Xylophia wanted to lay down with her babe, but couldn’t do so unless she wanted to lie in the dirty water.

  Whiplash just shrugged his shoulders and went back to sleep.

  Sebastian kept quiet, though rubbed his burned hand through the bandage, obviously it hurt him.

  Lann sat on a tree stump with slumped shoulders, totally against his own nature.

  Willie complained about not being able to grow the yummies tonight.

  All in all, everyone was miserable.

  No one had anything good to say.

  “I wish we would be out of this God awful swamp.” Shiloh sighed.

  Lann straightened his shoulders and got up.

  “Let’s go.” He said.

  “Go where?” his friends looked at him bewildered with tired eyes.

  “The longer we’ll sit here, the longer we’ll be in the…” his gaze met Shiloh’s “...God awful swamp.”

  “But I’m tired.” She said.

  “So am I. “The druidess agreed with the human.

  Each of them had an obvious reason to just sit and rest.

  “C’mon everyone. I’m sick of this swamp, sick of the mist, sick of the dreariness here. I want to get out of here, the sooner the better.”

  He pulled Shiloh up by her hands, then Derwa, while busy with the druid, Shiloh had sat back down on a stump.

  “Nay, Lass, get up. We need to get out of here.” he exclaimed, then it dawned on him.

  That people disappeared in the swamps was not Willie’s or any other Wisp doing, but the desperation which befell one when caught in the muck.

  He saw the danger of prolonging their stay in the fen and he urged them even more.

  Sebastian was the first to understand Lann’s conclusion

  . His hand went to his pocket and he pulled out a small amount of some dust, he moved towards the females open his hand and blew the sprinkle onto them, their eyes went empty.

  Lann saw their bleak look, like death. Fury wallowed up, he roared.

  “No, Mon ami, they are no hurt. But now they will concur.” Sebastian explained.

  Again the golden warrior spoke directly to the women, this time they obeyed, got up and walked in the direction Lann had pointed them.

  The brown man blew his dust onto the unicorns, the willow wisp and then the Matagot.

  As he turned to blow the powder into Lann’s face, the warrior denied.

  For one, he had realized the danger they have been in and secondly, he’d rather die than being Sebastian’s willing less slave.

  It was hard enugh to watch the girls turned into zombies.

  His head had to stay clear in order to protect his friends.

  They walked all evening and all night.

  The mist had taken a brighter shade of grey as the baby unicorn collapsed from exhaustion, hunger and even though it was not supposed to feel emotions, it had grown very quiet, very solemn.

  It fell in the murky water without that the companions, under the spell of Sebastian, had registered it.

  Lann led them and he had heard the splash the small body had made, but he was too desperate to reach the end of the swamp.

  His head turned tiredly as he gazed into the milky bleak mist.

  It took all his strength to call out to Sebastian. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” the Creole answered.

  “The splash.”

  “Oh,…I …” even though Sebastian was tired himself and the soul eating emptiness ate at whatever soul he had, he had to think fast.” I tripped.”

  “You’re alright?” Lann inquired.

  “Oui, oui, just wet. Merde.” he swore.

  Without another word, the golden warrior picked up his pace again. Eager to escape this wet void.

  Sebastian, walked two steps, took a closer look at the baby unicorn laying in the murk, shook his head as he looked in the eyes of the infant beast,

  “Au revoir, horsy.” He said as he stepped over the white babe. It whinnied sadly, but made no efforts to get up to follow.

  Chapter 11

  The fog got brighter and brighter with each step and finally around mid-morning Lann broke through the misty carpet into bright blue sky above. A bright sun welcomed him and blanketed him in warmth as to shake the dampness of the swamp away.

  A gently breeze kissed his skin and a soothing lolling tune of breaking waves on a beach soothed his aching heart.

  He took a deep breath of the salty air as he kept walking away from the fog bank, towards the ocean right in front of him. He didn’t stop walking until the water surrounded his belly button.

  Next to escape the mist was Shiloh and Derwa, still zombies they followed him into the brandish, halting next to him.

  He felt how a rock fell of his chest as he saw they were unhurt.

  Playfully he dunked them in the salty sea.

  Shiloh came back up, coughing and sputtering, cursing her eyes flashed with anger, it abated quickly as she recognized the salty taste on her lips, an ocean. Where did that come from? They had just entered the swamp, didn’t they?

  Derwa’s head broke through the water and she to coughed and hacked then gagged at the taste of the water.

  Her stony eyes had the expression of surprise but she kept her silence.

  She felt the ocean breeze on her skin and the sun warming her limps, she just knew they were at some kind of open water.

  She accepted it as it was.

  Ruebezahl, her fate and nature had taught her, she would always be where she had to be at that time.

  Xylophia also trotted into the water but she came to as soon as the water was knee high on her.

  On her back a very dim Willie and a seemingly comatose Whiplash were sound asleep.

  As the unicorn came to, startled by the water, she went up onto her rear and the two little riders fell into the waves.

  Distressed the flame of the wisp grew bright as to scorch the shock and terror away, while the little feline flew up, hissing and growling in disgust of the wet yuck.

  The last one to walk onto the shore was Sebastian.

  He didn’t go into the sea, he rather sat down in the sand, took a deep breath and sighed.

  “How did we get here?” The female inquired.

  Lann was happy to have her back, he stroke her cheek gently as he explained.

  “Sebastian did put a spell on you so you wouldn’t feel the sadness.”

  He kissed the top of her head.

  “If there would have been any other way…” He let his words float away. “I was so scared that you, Derwa and the others would be under his control forever. I wondered with every step, if I have lost…”

  Again he didn’t finish the sentence. But she knew what he meant to say, his heart told her with every joyful beat.

  She kept quiet, just snuggled deeper into his embrace.

  A shriek of terror echoed over the loud crashing waves.

  A cry of anguish, filled with horror, the deepest pain any world could know, the worry of a mother had lodged free of the unicorn’s muzzle.

  “What …”

  “Where is it?” the white beast gasped for air. “Where is my baby?”

  That’s when they all realized that they were missing the youngest member of their troop.

  She pranced again, her eyes wide and fearful, her heart beating so fast the others could hear it over the sounds of the shore.

  They all looked around, questioning each other with gazes.

  Lann’s hand formed a tight fist as he splashed ashore, without warning he went to the Creole and hit his fist with all his might smack into the middle of brown face as he was growling furiously.

  “Where is it? What have you done to it? Why did you do it?”

  Over and over he beat Sebastian, which did not try to defend himself, he just blocked Lann’s vicious attac
k.

  Blow after blow, until Lann was all spend and the Creole bruised and wounded, bleeding previously, tingeing the white sands to a scarlet mosaic. With much effort the man finally spoke, chocking on his own blood.

  “I have done no to the horse’s baby. I have no touch it. It was not me.” He groaned.

  Lann lifted his gaze tiredly, “Then who else? We both were the only ones awake.”

  “Maybe you did, mon Ami.”

  Sebastian lifted his arms as soon as Lann understood the accusation.

  “You bastard. I would never hurt a babe.”

  Again several blow hit their target.

  “Why do you think I would?” The Creole managed to sputter.

  Exhausted Lann sank in sand again.

  The unicorn ran back and forth on the shore, whinnied, and hoped against odds to hear the answer of the baby beast. But none came.

  “I swear on everything that’s holy, I did not touch the colt.”

  Sebastian swore.

  The golden warrior tried to get a clear thought, but Derwa beat him to it.

  “Sebastian, when have you realized it was gone?” She masked her dislike for this man well. This was about Xylophia and her baby, not about her queasiness have to deal with the man.

  “Just now, like you.” He lied.

  “When have you seen it last?”

  “In the swamps.” He exclaimed truthfully.

  “Is it possible it wandered off?”

  “How the hell should I know?” The Creole wiped some blood out of his eyes.

  “Did she take a wrong turn?” Derwa insisted.

  Sebastian shot her a furious gaze, meeting her dead eyes for the first time. “What the hell is wrong with your eyes?” He blurted out in shock of the green stones harbored in her sockets.

  “None of your business.” She countered.

  Again the pain filled scream of Xylophia howled over the sand banks, then the unicorn turned towards the mists and galloped into it.

  “Oh Hell, no.” Lann muttered as he spurted after the friend.

  He spread his burning wings and took up to six feet and rushed after the unicorn into the hated mist.

  He overtook her easily, landed ten yard in front of the beast and tried to stop her, but she galloped on.

  If Lann wouldn’t have his wings still open she would have trampled him down. The warrior jumped up and barely gathered enough heights to avoid the deadly hooves.

  Racing to get in front of her once again, he increased the distance to stop her, but again she kept running in a frenzy and he took into the air again.

  He slowed his speed to match hers and he persuaded her to stop, promising he would fly until he would find the babe, that he would not leave the swamp without the infant.

  He promised anything but Xylophia galloped on.

  Further and faster into the mist and murk.

  She ran for two hours, Lann flying next to her, darkness covered the grey marsh.

  His flaming wings cut through the darkness and lit their path.

  Something white shimmered in the muddy waters.

  It was the baby unicorn, more dead than alive, no will to live, and no strength to fight what lurked so close by.

  Lann broke away from Xylophia and sped up, checked out the baby as its parent drew closer.

  He picked up the being, met with Xylophia and yelled for her to get back to the beach.

  He would fly ahead, getting the babe out of the dreary fog, onto the beach, hoping and praying it would restore its will to survive.

  He didn’t glance back if she followed, he shoot through the mist, gained heights and soared quickly with the small unicorn in his arms, barely breathing.

  The haze thinned as he heard the ocean’s wave lapping onto the sands. It was night but two moons shone bright and illuminated the white beach.

  The others had lit a fire and sat quietly around the hearth, worry kept them silent and each of them feared to have lost not only the baby but also the unicorn and the golden warrior.

  Due to the brightness of the moons, no one had seen him approach.

  At the very last moment they heard the flap of his fiery wings swooshing closer.

  They jumped up at the sight of the demigod and his lifeless burden.

  Landing, kneeling and putting the babe down into the soft, white sand to the warmth of the campfire was one fluid motion for Lann.

  The others surrounded him, holding their breath in hope against all odds. The Babe’s gleaming chest heaved labored, but it did heave.

  A brighter spark of hope ignited in the women’s hearts, Willie’s flame lit up just a tat and Whiplash’ purple body vibrated in a quiet purr.

  The friends were consumed in their worry about the small mystical being that they had not noticed Sebastian moving away from the fire lit circle.

  The Creole stepped away into the shadows of the night, whistled a soft tune and a sea gull swept towards him.

  He held his hand out and without fear the bird landed on it, with his other brown hand he stroke the bird’s neck and wings, his eyes lit up when his hand returned to the gull’s neck.

  He snapped the thin neck and the bird collapsed dead on his palm.

  Quickly he inserted his hand into the back pocket of his pants, pulled out a small leather bag containing a small flacon of foul smelling oil and another with black dust. He poured the oil into the dead gull’s eyes, packed the little bottle back into the bag, he then bit his own wrist until the skin broke and his blood trickled in small drops, he rubbed his bloody wrist onto the bird’s wings, finished this gesture by licking the bite wound with his pointed tongue, the wound closed immediately leaving not even a red mark behind.

  With his teeth he pulled the cork out of the bottle in his hand, poured the black dust next to the gulls head, corked the flacon and reinserted it also into the leather case, which he stowed back into his pocket.

  Now, his left hand was free to dab the black dust rubbing it then onto the bird’s chest where its heart was.

  He drew an intrigued, primitive symbol into the dust and muttered one word while doing so. After taking a deep breath he blew the dust all over the bird.

  Bedazzled it woke, getting onto its talons with a blank expression in its eyes. Sebastian whispered for just the bird to hear a few sentences.

  He threw the bird in the air and it took off, not over the ocean but along the coastline.

  Darkness swallowed it quickly and only darkness had witnessed the making of the zombie gull.

  Chapter 12

  Laughter and screams echoed of the dreary, dark walls of the cavern walls, deep inside the earth flames brighten an horrific scene, which didn’t just include one troll being tortured, from which the screams had been originated , but it showed cages stuffed to the rim with goblins, dwarfs, fae and more.

  In the distance was a podium erected on which Balor sat, invigorated by the ordeal his minions inflicted on the souls, which had dismayed the ruler of death and destruction, the dreaded Balor.

  He was pleased by the pain and agony surrounding him, almost as pleased as a few days ago, when his daughter had given him the best satisfaction in his life, after he had raped and strangled her, she had gasped for air, croaked a curse on him.

  He had only guffawed, turned his back on her and heard the dagger being unsheathed from his own belt, discarded carelessly on the floor.

  He had heard her panting, still derived of breath as she sprang on him, dagger ready to sink into his neck.

  He turned and caught his female off spring in midair, held her by her wrists and felt a new arousal growing in his gut.

  He threw her on the floor at his feet, covered her thin naked body with his, the one eye in his face gleaming in the darkest red known to the universe and raped her again, in the meantime he sliced thin pieces of flesh of her arm, then of her shoulder and devoured them as he thrust painfully into his very own daughter.

  She vomited throughout the on goings.

  He
slivered another portion of flesh. but this time from her cheeks, stuck it in his black mouth, chewed, kissed her and pressed the mass into her mouth, held it tight with his huge claw, while cutting of her nose.

  He took his time this time.

  Before his seamen was spend, as the erotic wave rolled over him, he slid her throat and drank deep of his daughter’s blood, his own blood.

  That time she didn’t come back to breath.

  So he had ordered the ghouls to dispense of her body, which had happily snacked on the former princess, until nothing but one single earring remained on the marbled, black floor.

  Only thinking back how much he had enjoyed his daughter gave him another hard on.

  Maybe later he could take one of the lesser demons to bed. For now, he was satisfied with pain, sufferings and hate surrounding him.

  He watched as the troll got his right arm ripped out of the shoulder socket. Blood squirted over his feet, the cobalt by his feet licked the warm moisture of them, a groan slipped of its throat, enjoying the taste of metal, yet careful not to nip the scales of his master.

  The troll lost his arm, because he had spilled blood wine on the master’s fingers and the cobalt had no intention to share a similar fate like having his jaw torn off his face.

  This wouldn’t be the first time Balor would order such punishment. Though at the moment the small black creature enjoyed the treat of the red wetness, which sustained his life force.

  His master was in an excellent mood lately.

  Balor rubbed his single eye, which had teared up from laughing as the troll’s blood had hit his feet.

  His interest dimmed though as they unchained the troll while he grabbed for the tankard filled with blood wine, emptied it in one huge gulp and grew impatient while his minions disappeared to find the next convict to prosecute the punishment.

  The huge God stood up, kicked the sniveling cobalt aside and walked through the vast cavern, which served as torture chamber to the very last corner.

  This corner was almost black of shadows, water ran down the walls, it was cold and wet here, the air thick with humidity and stench of feces, urine and decomposition.

  In the darkness little creatures crawled, hurried, flitted from here to there while their feet scratched eerily on the floor, otherwise it was gravely quiet here.