The Devil's Highway (Journeyman Book 4)

by Golden Czermak

  None of it matters anymore, does it?

  Ty’s words rang out in Marcus’ mind as he recalled the two of them sitting beside his parent’s tombstone. Gage picked up his change in demeanor and the sparkle of tears in his eyes.

  “So the both of your parents are indeed…”

  Marcus nodded darkly. “We’ve got something else in common.”

  “Was it the Incursion that caused it? I seem to recall you mentioning that a couple of times in passing.”

  He bobbed his head again.

  “Yikes. I only know about that event from the stories Ady and Joey told me, plus some things I picked up along the way during research afterward… I’m not the biggest fan of reading as ya know, so I admit I didn’t spend much time on that. From what I gather though, it was a dark time.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Marcus said, smirking. “I’m not sure if that was worse than what’s happening now, but once that horror emerged a lot of us were fucked up – physically and mentally for a while. A few colleagues from the office never recovered. It seems research is what I mired myself in after all that, finding safety and comfort in those endless stacks of paperwork and lore. Meanwhile Ty, my only remaining family, sank into a state of depression mixed with a relentless desire for revenge. The Incursion showed the both of us how dangerous the world really can be and there was no way we would be able to fix things with a cavalier do-over. I guess the fact we always got out of the situations we found ourselves in made us nonchalant if not a bit naïve.”

  “Does Ty see things the same way as ya do?” Gage asked, hitting the wipers to clear a massive splat of bug guts from the windshield.

  “Honestly I’m not sure, though I know he never admit it. We tried for a time to work at a ranch up in Lansing, living that settled and quiet life like good people do. At first it was okay, but we both ended up hating it, but for different reasons. I’ve always been very type A…”

  “Never would have guessed…”

  Marcus mockingly shot him a stern look. “As I was saying… Type A, interested in data and information, so farm life was not for me. Ty was more of a rebel, especially since hitting his teens, and it never really stopped. He never really liked to conform to the rules, devising some really… unorthodox ways of clearing malevolent paranormal threats. He focused a lot of his time and attention on improving tonics and potions, which is why I thought to contact him for Joey. Perhaps he knows something that we don’t.”

  Gage sensed some pride in Marcus’ tone. He could tell that he didn’t like the fact his brother potentially knew something that he didn’t. That said, Gage definitely saw a part of himself in Marcus when it came to farm living – even though he enjoyed his time in Denver and at the Houston Lodge, nothing beat the open road with the wind at your back.

  “Our paths went separate ways soon after that,” Marcus told him. “Our ideals never quite meshed while the both of us hated being relegated to a pretend life. I poured himself into the Order and means to fight against the night, but then got bogged down in the corporate bureaucracy and became locked behind a desk.”

  “Fight against the night,” Gage muttered. “I like that much better than that ‘golden mean’ BS. Your brother head off to a JM office too?”

  Marcus shook his head. “No. Ty left and I assume took on a solo existence; it fits his mindset. That said, I have no idea where he’s been or what he’s been up to.”

  Gage thanked him for being so candid and open, reaching down toward the radio to turn up the volume. The finale to Beethoven’s Symphony Number Nine had just begun playing and as the duo raced down the Devil’s Highway to one of humanity’s greatest pieces of music, the big man dared to think that they might actually be successful at staving off the apocalypse.

  DESPITE HIS BEST efforts to smooth the ride, Botis was still tossed around hectically in the frost giant’s grip as the trio of jötunn continued hurtling across the frigid expanse. It felt like a couple hours had passed, assuming time moved at the same speed in Jötunheim, and if Botis had not had the support of his demonic soul, his skin would have been frostbitten long ago.

  The snowfall was harsh, yet at times broke to reveal far off mountains resting beneath a star-strewn sky of chilled colors.

  “How much further did you say your city was, Agnar?” Botis asked, his voice harsh and strained. His vessel was starting to feel pain in his lower back, something his internal fervor could not alleviate.

  “You have asked me that many times already,” the jötunn replied curtly. “I told you, we do not have far to go.”

  “That is what you told me a while ago,” Botis snapped, “or do you not remember? It was when we passed that snowy expanse… you know, the one that looked exactly like this snowy expanse.”

  “Patience, Knight of Hell,” Agnar advised. “You will soon have your audience.”

  “I hope my body can make it,” he responded. “Perhaps if you were to let me travel on my…”

  “We are much faster than you would be,” the second giant cut in, suddenly speeding past to make his point. “We’ve only slowed down because of what Agnar carries.”

  “Plus, we can keep closer reign over you,” said the third, remaining at the rear.

  “Reign?” Botis said with offense. “You wish to have me on a leash! I thought you had trust in me.”

  Silence came for his reply.

  “I suppose not…”

  “They are just proud warriors,” Agnar replied at last. “Trying to display their might in any way possible. It has been so long since Heimdall severed our ties with other realms, we are being driven insane by our –”

  “Inaction?” Botis finished on his behalf. “Trust me, I understand Agnar. Warriors are not unlike Knights in that we all fear being stagnant. It leads to a lack of progress which, in turn, causes one to lose the edge of their skills.”

  The air seemed warmer, if not just caused by their mood.

  “I will be honest, this I did not expect,” Agnar said reverently. “Was your world cut off as well somehow?”

  Botis stared ahead, the snow getting dense. “You could say so, in a manner of speaking.”

  What are you doing Count? Surely your human vessel is taking charge and influencing your thoughts, for these are not the words of a demon. Though he questioned himself on this, looking to find a scapegoat in his host, Botis realized that those thoughts were his own.

  “You are correct, Knight. We are fearful of being nothing more than average. It is frustrating and infuriating all the same. I feel that I have lost my mind at times, along with many others, here in isolation.”

  Botis nodded. “Well, sometimes we must lose our minds before we can come to our senses.”

  “Indeed little one,” Agnar said sadly. “Now, please forgive me for this.”

  Botis grew concerned, wondering what was about to happen.

  Agnar mumbled something indecipherable under his cold breath and there was a abundant wind that arose ahead of them, howling like a rabid wolf in the night. The air shimmered then fell away like broken glass, carrying his armor away with it.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Botis demanded, now stripped of all but the worn jeans he wore when first entering the realm. He was beginning to regret the decision to not fell these giants beforehand, and it was incredibly cold.

  “Just a precaution, little one. The King demands it for any visitors requesting an audience. It is supposed to keep you in check…” said Agnar, waving a hand. “But warriors should never be shackled.”

  Botis felt warmth surge back through him, then fade back to normal.

  “Now behold! We have at last arrived at the grand citadel of the King.”

  The trio of giants rounded a large rocky outcropping, the landscape extending beyond as meadow of silvery white, fractured in part with bands of ragged ice. It was so similar to what they had traversed, yet so different as to feel like another realm entirely. The stars rolled across the sky, streaking above the hazy g
low of a marvelous aurora.

  The same could not be said for the stronghold.

  Agnar slowed as they reached the edge of a long cliff running from north to south ahead the once proud city. Beyond a narrow bridge which curved from their side across the gorge, was a decomposing fortress. Its lofty walls were dark like ebony, glinting with shades of emerald and cobalt, yet melting as if they were made of ice.

  The giants carried Botis over the crossing and though he was certainly not afraid of heights in the slightest, he found himself resisting the urge to look down into the chasm. At the halfway point, curiosity took over the better part of him and Botis did so, staring into the murkiness. Something was looking back at him, a dim flicker of a feeling that reminded him of his view from Hell, only instead of looking down, he was looking up at unreachable escape.

  “Care to speed it up, gentlemen?” he asked Agnar, a side-splitting pain coursing across him.

  “Nothing to worry about, little one,” said Agnar as a deteriorated gateway passed above them. “We are within the city.”

  They had entered a large courtyard, the ground now at a much safer distance than before. At the center of the sprawling plaza beneath immense arched walkways crossing nine levels high, stood a once mighty tower, crooked like an old man trying to relive former days of glory.

  As Botis looked around the stone structures, cast in a blue-green light that came from everywhere, he felt as though such a grand place should be – for want of a better word – grander.

  The place was a veritable dump.

  Soon the group reached the base of a tower and now that they were closer, it looked more even more colossal. As they continued, the doors parted inward, granted them access to the vast throne room beyond.

  It was darker than expected, absolutely no fires to light those dank halls. However the cold light from outside did cascade down from a few high windows, nothing more than thinner parts of the solid wall.

  “What… is… this?” came a powerful voice from the darkness, with a bitter yet noble inflection. “Agnar? Is that you?”

  The group halted and Agnar bowed, releasing Botis to the tiled floor.

  “It is I, Your Highness. I bid you well.”

  “Please,” the King hissed. “Long gone is the time for such formality. You have seen the state of our kingdom, wasting away from isolations and dejection. Peace by means of separation, truly an ingenious play by the Father-of-All, don’t you think?”

  “I do not know, Majesty.”

  “WELL I THINK NOT!” the King yelled, his voice breaking in volume. “HE has benefited from this alone while the rest of the Nine Realms wallow in misery.”

  “Your Highness, I meant you no ill intent.”

  “I know this Agnar!” he snapped, shifting volume from high to low in an instant. “You are not like Halvar in that respect. Speaking of that troublesome fool, where is he?”

  The trio of giants gave each other the subtlest of glances before dipping their eyes to Botis.

  “He is still in the Fjords, Majesty,” Agnar lied, not wishing to further upset their estranged leader.

  “Indeed,” the King replied suspiciously, stepping from his hidden throne into the light. He looked exactly like his voice sounded – magnanimous and graceful, yet with a harsh exterior that matched his stern personality. “Now, onto business. You have brought something here to Thrymheim I hear, something that will apparently make me feel all warm in my cold heart. Do tell…”

  Agnar stepped forward, sweeping his hand to the left then down toward the floor. “We have brought you something, Your Highness. A Knight of Hell…”

  Botis bowed slightly, looking up at the towering being in front of him. He did not notice a crown on his head, only icy protrusions like bone rising from his temples

  “This?” the King groaned. “Surely you jest Agnar!”

  “He does not, Your Grace,” Botis stated politely enough, though his insides were knotted with concern. “My name is Botis, a Count of Hell and Knight in service to Lucifer the Great.”

  “Well, Botis, you stand before Thrym, ruler of the Hrimthurs.”

  “Rime… thurs?” Botis sounded out with a little difficulty. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I am at a complete loss with the inhabitants and pronunciations of this realm. However, I mean no offense to such splendid names which are only fitting for such a grand people.”

  The King sent his sapphire eyes rolling. “Did you not hear me earlier, Botis, or are denizens of Hell deaf? The Hrimthurs are frost giants, since we are to be so bluntly common.”

  “As I said, I meant no –”

  “Yes, yes, I heard you,” Thrym interrupted with a dismissive wave, returning to his majestic throne, now faintly visible in the fluctuating light. “Before we further sink into depravity, let us discuss things.”

  “So be it.”

  “Firstly, there is the matter of where you have come from. The claim you have made of coming from Midgard has reached my ears. Is this true, and is this ‘Hell’ of the same place?”

  Botis proceeded to discuss things at length with Thrym, detailing – as generally as he could – about Earth, demons, and the issues being faced with Dajjal.

  “So there is a hidden passage in the western mountains and the mighty Fenrir had been imprisoned there this entire time, right under our very noses? This begs far more questions than it answers, demon.”

  “You know the extent of what I do,” Botis responded. “The motivations of your foes are not known to me.”

  “Hmmm,” Thrym mumbled. “That may not be fully the case. What of this other demon you spoke of? The one named Dajjal. Will he not be following you here in order to capture or kill you?”

  “Yes he may, but I think I have delayed him by sealing the very doorway I used to flee into your realm.”

  “Delaying implies he will have success in coming here.” Thrym sounded concerned. “This doorway in the mountain, is it a two-way passage?”

  Botis’ eyes widened with apprehension, as did Agnar’s. “Yes it is, Your Grace.”

  The King fell quiet, deliberating with himself and muttering things none in the room could hear or comprehend.

  “Why thank you, Knight,” said Thrym softly after the long silence. “Your service to our people shall be noted and I will definitely take what you have said under advisement.”

  Botis bowed, somewhat suspicious of Thrym’s tone and interest in the gateway. “You are welcome, Your Grace,” he said. As he looked around, he saw that two of the guards had closed in, several more joining them to encircle him. Watchfully, Botis continued to speak. “Now, where shall I be staying until my return to Earth?”

  “You my friend…” Thrym answered, “shall see the inside of a cell until I have decided what to do with you.”

  Boris was incensed. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “You were wrong, Botis, about the motivations of my foes being foreign to you, for you yourself are an enemy and shall be dealt with accordingly for trespassing in this realm!”

  The jötunn in the chamber immediately advanced, seizing him in their hands. Botis struggled to release himself, but was without armor or weapons.

  “Thankfully,” Thrym continued, “we do not have to waste space in the dungeon for someone of your… diminutive stature.”

  Botis could feel an internal fire raging within, the hellfire in his core still reachable and begging for release. He glanced over to Agnar with surprise and the giant nodded back slightly. Realizing this was a fortunate advantage, Botis stowed that secret away for now, manifesting his anger as a roaring scream.

  “Take this thing away!” Thrym commanded. “Lest my ears shatter from all of this noise, or my sight be forever frozen looking down at… lesser things.”

  As Botis was carried away, still raging, he noticed something glinting in the gloomy light, set upon one of the King’s finger. It was the Crown of Immortality and seeing gave Botis a glimmer of hope during an otherwise dark turn of events.
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  IT WAS A perfectly crisp Portland morning, the faint glow of the predawn hours bathing downtown in an unnerving blue hue. The Willamette River was still, a series of warehouses lining its western shore reflected in its waters like glass.

  Outside the carcass of an abandoned building, Kahli arrived without so much as a noise. She was wearing her distinctive black dress, heels clicking merrily across an expanse of barren pavement as she approached. Once there, she cautiously stepped across the broken spines of wood, metal and crumbled brick to enter. Not long after, there was a low rumble, nearly a growl, that caused her to stop her advance toward the center. Kahli turned and saw the air split beside her, the Grim Reaper stepping through as if the tear was birthing some undead horror.

  “I did not expect you to show yourself for this meeting” she said to him as the portal closed behind his flowing robes.

  “You asked me to,” he asked coldly.

  “I suppose,” she replied, “but you know if you come along you will be in jeopardy. I have been recalled to my duties but to say that you have been forthcoming up to this point with what you are doing would be a lie. I am worried for you… specifically about your dealings with the human Gage –”

  “Now is not the time for such discussions, Kahli. I will reveal what I think is suitable at a time I deem appropriate. The others believe that they can press me into yielding information but until I say so, my lips shall remain sealed.”

  “Then why go?”

  “Again, because you have asked.”

  She chuckled, holding her hand out ahead of them. “By the way, if you haven’t noticed: you have no lips.”

  The room trembled and seemed to fold out from itself, blooming like a flower reflected in a kaleidoscope. Infinite panes expanded like facets in a diamond and in the very center a dark doorway appeared that beckoned them to enter.

  Kahli was the first to step through, her dress stripping away in tattered shreds until all of her brown skin was exposed. Naked she advanced up a set of invisible stairs into the darkness, her skin crumpling like paper before falling away, the rotten flecks swirling into the shadows. The Grim followed, his robes flying away as he joined her. His body was nothing more than a skeleton, bits of flesh and skin still clinging to the crannies of his joints.