The Devil's Highway (Journeyman Book 4)

by Golden Czermak

  So where the hell was home these days, other than ruins at the bottom of a deep abyss?

  Gage’s mind wandered as his attention returned to the oncoming flurries. He couldn't help but think about their past adventures, their losses, and all the things that still lurked in the dark ahead. Despite being so much closer to the end, it still seemed so far off.

  Despite this, one place kept returning to the forefront of his mind, rising out of a sea of anxiety and fear to ride upon comfort and hope. It was the Odyssey, one of its many virtues being that it had so swiftly worked its way into his heart – all of their hearts, in fact – to become home.

  Thus it was that Gage and the team found themselves homeward bound yet again, sadly still not at full capacity.

  CHRISTMAS DAY HAD not lived up to the hype, bringing no good tidings of comfort nor joy. Instead, Dajjal stood by himself in the cold desert outside Bennett Peak, swaying beneath orange clouds in a purple sky.

  He kicked up a cloud of dust which gently swirled around him and as it settled, his eyes burned with rage. Looking overhead as the stars drifted by, it was apparent that his current mood was fueled by some bad news received earlier in the day.

  It was about five o’clock that morning when he learned of Gage and a team of Journeymen raiding Eaves Green, while Dajjal was in Warminster no less, chatting to that wench dressed in red. The humans had gallivanted around the property, destroying everything in and around it, but only after retrieving their own prized possession and Dajjal’s sole means of leverage.

  To say that he was angry Joey Mosley was taken back was an understatement and the occupants of the command center found out first hand how much so.

  Just as he was about to kick up more dirt, there was a burst of noise to his right. Dajjal turned and saw a swirling cloud of crimson smoke appear before his eyes, caressed by lapping flames. Nabila had arrived and the demon wasted no time rushing her, a clammy hand seizing her by the throat.

  “Did you help him?” he demanded to know, tightening his grip. “What did you do?”

  She wheezed, gasping for air. Unable to form words, her arms flopped violently like a fish out of water.

  “Dancing with demons can be a very dangerous thing,” he continued spitefully. “Tell me… why I should not end you right here, right now, you double crossing bitch?”

  She closed her eyes, concentrating on raising her shaking hands. Slowly they rose until she managed to grab hold of his elbows, uttering a single word through her clenched throat: suffio. On command, a tremendous amount of pain rushed out from her hands straight into his body and throbbing, he was forced to release her. Immediately tending to his aches, a sensation like snapping ice and searing fire coursed up and down the full length of his arms.

  Nabila took in a few deep breaths, rubbing her neck. “You are incapable of ending me!” she exclaimed, tossing a small satchel his way. As the bag rolled and came to rest at his feet, her arm remained extended. “I have done nothing, other than place my faith in the wrong person.”

  The bag burst open and there was a jet of red light that shot skyward, followed by a swirl of gold dust that remained low to the ground. Dajjal felt compressed around his waist and as if invisible ropes were binding him, he was dragged down to his knees. The dust then settled on the ground in the shape of a pentagram. That was when he realized that she had ensnared him in a trap.

  “How the tables have turned…” she said, her breathing still erratic. “So tell me now demon, why I should not end you right now and put us all out of your misery?”

  He glanced up at her with an unmitigated stare, eyes boiling as blood trickled out of his nose. Black smoke was collecting in his mouth, spilling over his lower lip like a waterfall. “Because… you know that you cannot change the fate of the world… as foretold in your prophecies.”

  She slumped slightly. “One can try…”

  Dajjal closed his eyes, anticipating his demise at her hand while his very essence continued to pool around his knees.

  “But that is not for today,” Nabila said regretfully and with a dismissive wave, the trap vanished. Dajjal was free and his demonic smoke clambered its way back inside the host like someone vomiting in reverse.

  The sorceress began to walk toward the mountain, not waiting for the demon to keep up, gliding across the rough land in her heels. “So I have prepared the necessary materials for this little ritual.”

  Dajjal scrambled up beside her, the skies now deep blue as night came upon them.

  “Some of these ingredients were hard to find,” she continued. “It's not like you can head down to the local occult store and pick up the skull of a fire drake. That said Dajjal, I have done my part but there is one thing missing: the spark to ignite this spell.”

  Dajjal panted several times, wondering with each breath what they could use. The dirt crunched beneath his feet and in the utter silence around them was like beating drums to his ears. “Well it isn’t fundamental magic if Botis could cast it,” he supposed, eyeing Nabila cautiously. “So with it being a powerful locking ward, I don’t think that a life force is required.”

  “You’d be correct,” she stated.

  “Good, I think I've gone through too many of my staff today.”

  Nabila shook her head disapprovingly. “I would have suggested using the Ire for this purpose but…”

  “I know… we do not have it,” Dajjal replied. “There's no need to rub that fact in.”

  She smirked. “So do you have anything that will work?”

  Dajjal stroked his beard as they reached the rocky wall. “Yes. I shall be sure to have it brought to the doorway,” he confirmed as they both passed effortlessly beyond.

  A short time later the two of them emerged from the darkness of one of the passages into the Chamber of Light, the now black sky hanging overhead, speckled with starlight.

  Just ahead of the sealed doors was a husky lesser holding two feathers, dark as if covered in soot. Despite his masculine appearance, the expression he wore on his chiseled face indicated that he had the urge to piss himself out of fear for his life. Given the body count since Dajjal came into power, he was justified in thinking that.

  Nabila breezed by the demon and stepped up to the doors without delay, touching them with her fingertips. The air in front of them rippled outward like a stone hitting a lake and Botis’ sigil reappeared, muted like the sun on a cloudy day.

  Tenebrae meae invocabo te. Autem adducite mihi ingredientia.

  Suddenly a decorative pewter bowl appeared before her, floating in mid air along with three ingredients: the skull casually mentioned before, along with a vial of herbal oil and a unicorn horn. Stretching out her hands like a cross, the lesser placed a feather in each of her hands; flames kissed the edges before they erupted with a shower of sparks and he was given permission to leave.

  The lesser didn't waste a second, fear pouring out of his pants leg. Dajjal was filled with delight as the demon scurried away, so much so that snapping his fingers didn't even come to mind. Returning his attention to Nabila, he watched the horn impale itself in the skull, cracking it while the oil drenched both items. The bowl rose, along with the feathers from her hands – higher and higher until centered in the towering doorway, the sigil right in line with it.

  Excoquam ad perdendum!

  The phoenix feathers skimmed across the bones, igniting the oil as everything fell flaming into the bowl. A split second later there was a loud boom and the container exploded, taking the sigil out with it.

  “There we have it,” Nabila said proudly, clasping her hands together as if to pray before lowering them to her waist. “My duty is done, Dajjal. Now I must depart and account for my actions, the rest of the coven in waiting. We shall be watching you, like the others in motion. Do not disappoint us with a bad show.”

  Nabila then bowed before taking her leave, her elegant attire skimming across the dirty floor as she left.

  “Indeed, sorceress, thank you for all of your help
,” Dajjal muttered deviously, causing her to pause just ahead of one of the dark passageways.

  Something felt wrong and suddenly her eyes were aglow.

  “You dare?” Nabila said with a raised voice, her words echoing throughout the grotto as she spun once more, this time in Dajjal’s direction. A line of silver met her, racing faster than a bullet in the air. With a quick tilt of her head, she snatched the object just as it whizzed by.

  It was Dajjal’s razor blade, glinting even in the gloom.

  She sent her eyes his way and they faded back to normal. She tucked the blade into the supple space between her breasts for safekeeping, giving it the gentlest of taps.

  “My dearest demon,” Nabila said, confidently strolling up beside him. She leaned in so close that their lips could have met. “As I told you, not all things are so easily bent by fear. I hope you realize this one day soon, before it all leads to your undoing.” She gave him a passionate kiss before twirling in place, advancing down the rocky corridor. “Until then, farewell.”

  There was a loud bang and surge of crimson smoke and flame. Once it had dissipated, she was gone, leaving Dajjal to his own devices in the cold darkness.

  The doors slowly opened once more and snow from the other side rushed into the hollow.

  A LARGE MAN watched as the massive doors slammed shut, dust cascading in streams from high above the snow filled tunnel. All went dark, except for the faint crimson light of his eyes, highlighting a definite smirk spread across his face. The distinct buzz of magic could be felt in the air and proudly he turned away from the doors, looking down a cavernous passageway toward an exit in the distance.

  “Good luck breaking that seal, Dajjal,” Botis said arrogantly as he started to march, barefoot on cold stone. Pieces of decorative armor started to appear on his shirtless body and by the time he reached the exit – a large gash in the otherwise solid rock wall – he was encased in vibrant metal that glowed like molten lava from within.

  The snow and wind there at the threshold was relentless, trying its hardest to turn the demon back. Had he not been a walking furnace, Botis might have been deterred, but instead he stood firm on the brink of the precipice overlooking the icy wasteland beyond. Botis closed his eyes and he could sense a power drawing him to the southeast. The feeling was distant yet strong, tugging at him like string wrapped around his fingertips.

  It had to be what he was there to seek, calling out for rescue from wherever it was being held, but Botis also carried a smidgen of doubt in his mind. He was relying solely on his demonic senses here and they hadn’t been used in such a long time. He felt unreliable and out of practice.

  Additionally, without a known frame of reference in the whitewashed vista, or even an indication of where this vista was, Botis felt lost. Grumbling with little choice, he followed his gut and strode confidently into the snowstorm, his halberd disappearing into thin air.

  For a long time, the exact amount that had passed unknown, Botis trudged on without seeing much more than perpetual winter around him. At times he was forced to conjure his shield and hold it in front of him against the onslaught of howling winds which threatened to make even a demon’s heart shiver.

  His thoughts were the only thing keeping him company and they spoke at length about Lucifer’s dear treasures – the same things being the means of opening a door to Hell.

  Botis thought about Dajjal’s utter failure in obtaining the Ire and Shackles in the very beginning from Gage Crosse, who was in his mind nothing more than an evolved bag of meat. Not to mention the humiliation of Gage having both the Demon’s Bane and Manus Fortuna upon his hands, the latter bestowed by the humans with the bland moniker of the Ring of Dispel.

  These things were so much greater than any single mind could understand and to Botis the thought of so many being worn so casually by a mortal was as sickening at best.

  The blizzard began to shift into a light flurry and Botis was able to turn his gaze skyward, looking up at the cold, blue clouds. Seeing those shapes drift by effortlessly triggered more thoughts in Botis.

  He wondered if all that had been fated came to pass, would that mean Lucifer would be free again?

  Would He show Botis favor for aiding Him in such a glorious return?

  Would He punish Dajjal for all of his treachery since the War of Heaven and, most recently, the murder of the other Knights?

  All of these questions lingered for a time and he impatiently wanted answers to them and more, not to mention the pleasure of witnessing the Deceiver get put in his proper place.

  Botis thoughts circled back to the artifacts, this time about the final two – specially which one of them had been lost in this desolate realm. After some deliberation with himself, he was convinced that it was most likely the Crown. Death’s Scythe seemed to warrant more… cadaverous surrounds.

  He continued walking and at last the snowfall stopped altogether, yielding to a gentle breeze that blew across the snow covered landscape of a mountainous fjord. Fog had settled upon everything, covering the land in serene beauty, mixed with an eerie charm.

  Off in the distance, strange columns of ice rose off to the east, set just before what could have been a large body of water – its surface had a sheen, but was hardly visible through the mist. The sun itself grew low in the sky and had a blue tint to it, confirming that Botis was no longer on the Earth.

  He continued to walk closer to the gleaming pillars – there were four that loomed into view – the ground crunching beneath his heavy boots. The demon pondered which realm this could be, unfamiliar with places other than the Earth, Heaven, and of course Hell. Both fortunately and not, the answer to that came much sooner than expected.

  The four ice columns began to move as he approached; they were alive! Groaning and splintering, they cracked and formed the shapes of men, but with an otherworldly greatness that was rivaled only by their height. At least fifty feet tall they stood, the very ground trembling beneath them with each thunderous step.

  Botis halted, his shield and halberd summoned to his grip. Never before had he seen such beings. Surely the fires of Hell could overcome the spawn of this bitter place?

  “Who are you?” came a deep voice from the foremost creature, crackling like ice floating on water. His glazed eyes were the deepest shade of pitiless blue and they were cast down toward the demon with suspicion. “What business do you have here in Jötunheim?”

  I have never heard of this place, Botis realized. “That would be none of your concern, giant,” he answered quickly to stave any negative connotations.

  “What are you?” asked another to Botis’ left, surveying him at a distance since his weapons were still bared.

  “Obviously not Jötnar,” said a third as he settled in behind Botis, rubbing upon a glimmering beard of ice as he scrutinized the demon with distaste. “Some kind of dwarf?”

  “A Knight of Hell, if you must know,” Botis said, addressing the leading giant. His chest swelled and he beat his halberd upon it. “I have come for business that is none of your concern. Let me by, so there is no blood… or frost… spilled today.”

  The jötunn was unfazed by this veiled threat, Botis so small and insignificant in the center of the four of them. They all continued to stand as mountains in the way of his path.

  “You are within our realm, ‘Knight of Hell’, so your business shall be our business. You will tell us, now, how you came by this place.”

  Botis’ eyes darted from one colossus to the next, knowing that he wouldn't stand a chance of defeating all of them at once. He relented with a short answer. “I have come from Earth and prior to that, Hell beneath it.”

  “We have not heard of ‘Hell’ before, but the Earth is familiar to us – you speak of Midgard,” the hulking creature said. There was a tone of disbelief in his words. “These must be lies, pure and simple. Heimdall has made sure the burning light of Bifröst hasn’t touched this land from across the River Ífing for millennia. This place has been sealed off f
rom the other eight realms; and those realms from each other in turn. All except for Midgard, which remains connected to Asgard and all its vileness. There are no other ways to cross from one land to the next, which is why I must ask you again once again, truthfully: how did you get here?”

  Botis was not a fan of conceit, knowing full well how that ample amounts of it were playing out for Dajjal, and even how it affected Lucifer in the grand old days. He sensed there was more to this frost giant than met the eye. “There are no other ways that you know of…” he countered bravely, or perhaps stupidly.

  The jötunn shifted, a menacing look filling his face. He seemed driven to crush Botis beneath his gigantic heel, moving to do just that until suddenly he relaxed as if to second guess his actions. “If there were any other ways, Knight, our King would be well aware of them.”

  King? Botis thought with a devilish gleam in his eyes. Surely his majesty would be wearing a crown… His eyes then cast down to the ground in disappointment. No, that would be preposterous given their size.

  Second guessing himself, Botis now couldn’t help but think that the treasure in this realm was the scythe. He knew that Lucifer’s ego could – at times – be immense, but nowhere near the degree of needing a crown that large.

  Botis needed to say something.

  “King? At last, there is someone I feel appropriate to speak with. What say you, guardian?”

  The jötunn seemed offended by that label, back to contemplating what to do about this red-eyed pest. “You do not even know who you are speaking to; it is dangerous to make assumptions, little thing. Now, say I were to put an end to you, the King would be unaware that any of this transpired…”

  Immediately the other giants strode away, disagreeing with this course of action yet complicit through their inaction. The giant observed his brethren as they withdrew, then glanced down at the Hell Knight standing far below.

  “So I am not remiss in my honor – I shall grant this insignificant thing the glory of knowing who ended it. Halvar is my name.”