by Matthew Buza
They sprinted towards an open pond. Behind them, the creature reached its feet and took chase. The black liquid in the pond pulsed with each pounding step. Behind them, they could hear heavy breathing approaching. A horrifying shriek forced both men to grasp their ears.
They neared the pond and Isaac pushed hard against Lazarus’s shoulder sending him flying into the nearby rock mound. He rolled to the ground as the creature flew past still focused on Isaac. Its mouth was wide and the forked tongue reached out and smacked Isaac in the shoulder. Isaac dropped to his knees and rolled onto his back, kicking up with his legs and sending the creature flying into the deep pool. The massive body struck sending showers of the thick liquid splashing against the ground.
Isaac stood quickly to see the creature floundering and fighting. He realized that the pools were full of thick tar. The black tar strands fell off the creature's face as the heavy burden dragged the creature down. Small bubbles popped and the liquid went still.
Isaac rushed to Lazarus and pulled him up. Fresh wounds oozed red where rocks had cut shallow gouges. He instinctively rubbed, smearing the blood over his hand.
“Which way did Aamon go?” Isaac asked.
“Towards the red horizon.”
The two men didn't wait for another creature to appear and broke off down the trail towards the auburn horizon. They weaved around rock mounds as a large flash appeared ahead of them. The light filled the dark landscape and cast long shadows over the ground. The light was followed seconds later by a large explosion.
“What was that?” Isaac asked breathing hard.
“That might’ve been our friend.”
They continued and rounded a mound, as two creatures stumbled by limping down the path and away from the clearing ahead.
Lazarus and Isaac slowed. A clearing opened and Aamon stood in the center of a shallow smoking crater. The two men slowly approached. Lining the edge of the crater were body parts that smoked, releasing their thick stench of burning flesh. Some fingers and toes still twitched with the last remnants of life.
Aamon turned his head, his eyes glowing a fierce red before dying to purple and then black. “Scavengers, all of them.”
The two men were silent.
Aamon's hoof ground in the dirt, forming a small hole in the black sand. He snorted out and a plume of black smoke lifted off his face. He looked up and saw Isaac over Lazarus's shoulder. He was free and unbound. Aamon's eyes burned and he moved in a flash. His weight dropped on Isaac and pushed him down into the ground. His long fingers grabbed Isaac's wrists and pulled up.
Isaac could feel the weight on his chest and struggled to breathe, giving out a weak moan as his arms were stretched to the limit. He could feel his shoulders slipping.
Aamon's face dipped down. “How did you get free?”
Isaac fought to get his breath; he choked down air and breathed in Aamon's smoke. He could feel a burning sensation through his lungs and he bent to cough.
Isaac forced out a response. “You left us.”
“Lies how did you get it off?”
“Fuck, get off me.”
Aamon rolled Isaac and pinned his hands back. A new snake crawled out and formed a fresh bond around Isaac's wrists. The demon stood and left Isaac to struggle on the ground.
“Really? Behind my back? Come on!” Isaac cried out.
Aamon's face was inches from Lazarus. “How did he do that?”
“I don't know,” Lazarus said.
“You helped him.”
“No, honestly!”
“We had an agreement.”
“We are still in agreement.”
“If you are playing games with me, I will make sure you are alive when I begin to dine.”
“Honestly, I don't know.”
“Pick him up.”
Lazarus stepped aside and helped Isaac up. “Just calm down.”
It was an hour of silent walking as the three continued down a worn path towards the burning horizon. The red sky grew and the men could see an increasing haziness above as if smoke were accumulating. The path gave way to a sloping plain that ended in a lake of fire, that stretched out as far as they could see.
The path ended at a small dock where a boat bobbed slowly in the raging inferno. A heinous woman paced in front of the boat. Her wire arms and legs were connected to a board-flat torso, which sported a small paunch that fell over her tattered clothes. Her sagging breasts swung in the air under a thin top. Greased hair hung down the sides of her face and dropped her shoulders. The folds in her face pushed against her narrowed eyes and a toothless black void dangled limp in the dry air.
They approached the dock and she moved picking up a long paddle. Aamon walked up to the woman and rested his hand on her shoulder. She gave a wry smile and motioned for the men to board.
The dock stood in a shallow lake of fire. The ground beneath could be seen as the flames danced and shifted in the air. The men stepped carefully over the wooden dock.
Isaac leaned into Lazarus. “There’s no heat.”
The woman’s grating voice answered. “The heat is not for everyone. You don't feel it because it is not yet meant for you.”
They stepped down from the dock and into the wooden boat. It floated inches above the fire and shifted as if balancing on water. Wisps of flames danced up the side trying to grasp at the boat. Isaac looked over the side to see the fiery tendrils grasping like fingers as if reaching out to claim lost souls.
The oar dug into the fire and the flames swirled, grasping like a thousand tiny hands. She pressed hard with her frail arms and the boat launched setting sail into the blaze.
Her voice came again. “I see you boy, staring into the fire. It tempts everyone. Even the strong, but I would focus your eyes up and look forward. You don't want to be pulled into it earlier than necessary.”
Her lips curled back and showed her rotten gums that were cracked black and bleeding. She let out a wheezing cough and dug again into the fire.
Isaac looked up towards the smoke ceiling above. It had grown dense and dark. The smoke folded and swirled like an afternoon thunderstorm. The world had suddenly grown small. He was sandwiched against the clouds above and the lake of fire. Isaac focused ahead, towards the edge of the lake and the silhouette of a black mountain on the horizon.
The King
The boat floated over the boiling fire towards a white sand beach. They had spent hours rowing across the burning abyss towards the black mountain. All along, the old woman rowed. Each stroke she freed the paddle and burning embers would drop off the tip falling harmlessly into the inferno.
It had been a silent trip, both Aamon and Lazarus staring off the bow. Lazarus's face was nervous. The sweat built on brow and his eyes shifted nervously towards the horizon. For the first time, he looked fearful as if the entire trip beforehand was known or planned out. His hands fidgeted as he peeled splinters of the boat railing and flicked them into the fire below.
The old woman lifted her emaciated arm and pointed to the thin blur ahead. “The White Sands are ahead of us.”
The three passengers shifted to see the beach.
Isaac asked, “Is that where we’re going?”
Lazarus's response was hollow and empty. “Yes, that's it.”
The boat bumped gently into the wooden dock. It was the only noticeable feature on the unassuming beach. Fire lapped the shoreline like tiny waves on a windy lake. The sand shifted and floated in the waves, only to fall back to the ground.
“You’ll wait,” said the old woman. She stood and walked down the dock and onto the sand. She paused to let her crooked toes dance in the fine grains. A brief smile came across her face before she quickly crested the small dune. Her head bobbed before disappearing over the edge.
“What are we waiting for?” asked Isaac.
His question was met by silence. Aamon stared up at the mountain that now dominated the view. Lazarus ignored Isaac and stared down into the boat trying to avoid eye contact and ul
timately the fate that lay before them.
A short minute passed and the old woman appeared again, her body laboring against the weight of her catch. Her thin legs dug into the white sand and she slid down the small dune. Behind her, she dragged a mangled body. It flopped and oozed over the sand leaving a deep red smear. It was a stark contrast and grabbed the attention of everyone in the boat.
Isaac could see a missing leg and half eaten abdomen. Entrails and gore dragged loosely behind, kicking up a small wake. She reached the foot of the dock and Isaac saw the torn flesh and half eaten face of a man. The woman's hand gripped tightly around the wrist as loose flesh dangled from what was an arm. White bone flickered, dangling like a wind chime in a breeze. The smell of rotting flesh punched Isaac in the face. It was pungent and overwhelmed and slowly muted his senses. With each breath, he felt the color slowly drain from the world.
The three stepped onto the dock. Isaac could see Aamon enjoying the old woman's bounty. A short flash of pink moved across his smoky lips. He was hungry and the sight of a fermenting body sent him into a frenzy.
The old woman noticed. “Aamon this is not your meal.”
Again the pink flash.
“This was for our master. We don't indulge in his needs.”
Aamon broke and his head shook slightly as he regained his focus. “Yes. Please excuse my desires.”
The body popped and cracked as she dropped it into the well of the boat. The old dock creaked under the weight of each footstep. Aamon turned and thumbed a black coin to the woman. Her arm shot off like lightning and snagged it out of the air. It was the first time she moved with any purpose.
“I will call when I need to leave,” Aamon said.
“The ferry always provides.” She dipped in a shallow bow, her greasy hair swung like a heavy pendulum. Her crooked fingers pulled up the rope and her long arms pushed off. The boat slowly spun in the blaze as she found her footing, carefully avoiding her new guest. Her arm moved slowly and Isaac saw her reach down. There was a faint snap and her face spread wide in a dark and menacing grin. The boat floated away and she began to chew her spoils.
Aamon slid by the two men and stormed off to the beach.
“If we are lucky or unlucky, that is the last time we see her,” Lazarus said.
“Well, at least she didn't try to kill us,” Isaac said.
“Well, we may have been spared as guests.”
“Or prisoners,” Isaac added.
“Our warden is on the move.”
They crested the dune and the beach spread out like a bleached canvas. It swept forward shifting to black and shooting into the sky.
“That mountain looked taller than it is,” Isaac said.
“There's a set of stairs leading to the top, along that ridge.” Lazarus pointed.
Ahead Aamon stopped in front of a large pit where the red blood stain started. The blackened circle stood out against the white sand. The center was filled with black ash.
The two men approached from behind. Aamon turned his head. “You have two minutes.”
He tossed an object into the pit and the entire area erupted into flames. The shot of light sent Isaac and Lazarus reeling. The flames were above the men's heads and black smoke billowed up to meet the clouds in the sky. Off in the distance along the mountain ridge bells began to chime and echo. Isaac felt like the whole landscape was coming alive. As if the mountain itself was breathing down on them. A pressure built in his chest and seemed to be emanating from the summit. Inside Isaac knew, something was coming.
Lazarus took Isaac's shoulder as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white bead that was wrapped in a brown cloth. Lazarus was breathing deeply and his eyes were wide like a panicked child.
“Isaac, I know all of this is my fault. I get that. I know you don't trust me, but you feel something in your chest. You know something is coming. I know what is coming. It Buer. I need you to take this and put it in your mouth. When he comes you need to break this in your teeth.”
“Why?”
“This bead will summon Jalon.”
Isaac paused looking down at the white pearl. It seemed to glow as if there were a piece of heaven locked inside.
“We don't have much time. Take the bead. Just keep it under your tongue.”
Isaac took the bead from Lazarus. He awkwardly placed it into his mouth. Behind Lazarus, Aamon stared at Isaac. His eyes burned in anticipation.
“This better work or this boy dies Lazarus,” Aamon said.
“Isaac, this is going to work. This was the agreement. Aamon wants Jalon and in turn, we get to leave.” Isaac's eyes widened. Lazarus leaned in close. “When Jalon comes you run to that rock outcropping and meet me.”
Isaac lifted his hands and grabbed Lazarus. “Whoa, no, no, no. You are going to leave me here?”
"If Buer sees me then the game is up. He will kill us on the spot. But if it is just you, he won't. You are spoils for Aamon. There's no other way, this is how it has to be done. I'll be over the edge of the beach.”
Aamon's voice seared. “We are running out of time Lazarus.”
A thundering rumble came down from the mountain.
Lazarus turned his head to the noise. “I know, I know. Isaac, listen, just crack the bead when Buer is close.”
Lazarus turned and sprinted down the beach towards a thin rock outcropping. Isaac's body instinctively started to run after Lazarus, before Aamon dropped him to his knees and dragged him to the fire.
Isaac pleaded. “Come on!”
Aamon pulled against his chest. His voice was firm and the smoke rippled along his body as he spoke. “Crack the bead when he gets here. I want that seraphim. I don't give a fuck about you or your necromancer's games. Give me Jalon.”
Aamon reached out and the bands awoke. The snake slithered up Aamon's arm and disappeared under the smoke. He was finally free as the blood rushed sending a wave of needle pricks across his fingertips.
The fire raged behind them as they stared up at the mountain. A thin trail of dust ran down the slope and approached. The thundering sound grew louder and the sand around the beach began to pulse.
A shiver ran up Isaac's spin. He felt a twinge in his stomach and leaned over and vomited onto the beach. The bile dripped from his lips and he convulsed again. He took a deep breath and felt for the bead. It was gone. He fumbled through the foamy wet vomit. His hands found the bead and he lifted it back to his mouth.
A breeze grew to a gale and the chaotic fire whipped and swirled about Aamon and Isaac. A blurry ball rolled down the beach, parting the sand like a ship through water.
Isaac’s voice was weak. “Is that…?”
“It is. Now bow your head,” Aamon said.
The rolling blur stopped twenty feet from the fire. The ear-splitting noise went silent and Isaac swore for a moment he was deaf. The world seemed to slow, all sound, feeling, and smell disappeared. His focus remained on the white sand in front of him. He could see Aamon out of the corner of his eye bent respectfully at the hip. Just out of view Isaac heard the sound of Buer taking in a deep breath; it sounded like a hurricane ripping through an opening in a house. There was a pause before he exhaled. Isaac's clothes flapped in the gust and white sand tumbled about him. Aamon was frozen in his bow like an obedient soldier ready for inspection. The wisps of black smoke danced in the gusts and for a brief moment, Isaac saw Aamon's black skin beneath. His muscular chest with deep lines running down and away from his neck, like channels carved into his chest.
It went silent again before a hoof dug into the white sand grinding the tiny pebbles to dust.
Buer's voice was deep and his breath smelled like the decaying flesh that the old woman hauled away. “Aamon, my smoky beast. It has been years since I've seen you. It is sweet like the flesh. Today I will drink the fire in your name. You’ve called me down. But what have you brought me? A treat. Something of pleasure?”
Aamon remained bent, his eyes focused down into the dirt. “My Lor
d, your form is absolute and my mind is yours.”
"Aamon, Aamon, dispense with the platitudes, we have no need for them here. Please, tell me why you bring this flesh here? This…boy? I am already tingling with excitement.”
Isaac's body was frozen in place. He dared not move or lift his head. He could feel the ground shake with each step. The smell was intense and caused his eyes to water. More steps and two hooves appeared in Isaac's vision. The warm breath fell down his back and tickled his hairs. The hooves were black and the skin brown, covered with tiny hairs like a fine coat. Isaac shivered in fear.
“Ah, this lamb is frightened.” He let loose a soft chuckle.
A rough object lightly touched Isaac's ear and slowly moved down his neck. He recoiled as he saw the edge of the fingertip. It was cracked and swollen as if a corpse's skin were carelessly placed over bone. Long red hairs like fire covered the back of Buer's hand.
Isaac fell back and buried his face in the sand. His head landed inches from the drying vomit. The smell of bile sent him into a fit as he fought to hold in his bowels.
Another hoof hit the sand and then another as Buer’s immense frame was perched over him. His shadow fell over the ground and covered Isaac.
“Oh boy, he presents to the king. What an obedient servant.”
Aamon was locked in position like a statue, frozen in the moment, his eyes straining to see Buer in action.
“Aamon, tell me why you brought me such a delicious treat? This can't be some lonely human you stole.”
“He is an apprentice.”
Buer let loose a throaty growl. “An apprentice. How generous. How exquisite. A live apprentice. Now, now, Aamon you have outdone yourself. A gifted one, a chosen one. It’s a fine day.”
Isaac breathed into the sand and watched the fire pit burn. Tears welled up and overflowed. Around the fire's edge bones collected, blackened by fire and picked clean by the beast that hovered over him.
“Oh, please, tell me your name.”
The tears continued and Isaac couldn't bring himself to speak.
“His name is Isaac, Sir,” Aamon said.