by Eve Langlais
Desmond didn’t grab her this time. She quelled her disappointment.
They descended a for a long time, the faint light from the magic Desmond flung, marching off into the darkness and disappearing from sight as it wound around a corner. She knew they’d arrived when she saw a furry shape sitting on the last step.
“Woof,” Logan barked and then turned to head through an arched doorway.
“Idiot pooch.” Titus stood by the door but didn’t cross through it.
“That’s not the rift,” Desmond said with a chuckle.
“I knew that.” A disgruntled reply.
They went through a short tunnel that showed light at the end and emerged into a massive cavern.
Erela gaped. “This is…” Incredible, insane. Either word worked. What began as a naturally formed cave had been transformed into a thing of art by someone with great stone-working skills. Not quite beautiful, some of the depictions carved into the rock were too violent for that. However, the artistry, the sheer amount of imagery chiseled into the wall with such detail?
It was a masterpiece.
“Who did this?” Erela asked, running her fingers over the ridges, noticing the fine detail. The artist even managed depth and shading.
“Someone wishing to warn humans of the danger that lurked on the other side.”
“Where is the portal?” she asked, glancing around. Some stalagmites rose from the floor and joined the stalactites at the ceiling. Also carved. A few had succumbed to age and shifts of the earth, their rubble marring the floor. The stone underfoot was also carved, including a defined trail. A path of sorts leading to a large, circular dais with stairs running all around the circumference of it.
Atop the raised area was a kaleidoscope that shifted colors from bright and flashing, to darkest shadow. The door to the Netherlands and passage to other worlds. Not a very large door, she should add.
At the Ha’el and Babylonia border, the rift ran for at least a hundred yards. But here, in this hidden cavern, it was barely large enough for a small group.
“Is the path to Ha’el marked?” she asked because it wasn’t just the unknown lurking in wait they had to fear but also getting lost in a place that stole all sense of direction.
“Yes, but there has been damage of late. Attempts to wipe it away.” Desmond pulled gloves from his cloak and slid them over his hands. He tucked his garment behind his shoulder and ensured the pommel of his sword remained free.
“Expecting trouble?” Titus asked.
“Always.” Desmond smiled. “Last chance to back out.”
Through the tie binding her to Titus, she could feel his uncertainty and his anger. The ire was what pushed him up those steps to stand in front of the swirling mass.
Snapping her fingers brought Logan close. She threaded her digits in his fur.
Titus, of course, noticed. “What happened to not touching?”
“Touching is fine. It’s letting go that’s important,” Desmond remarked, his boots thumping as he climbed each step. “We need to hurry. The alignment has only minutes left.”
“What happens if we go through afterwards?” she asked.
“We end up somewhere a little more difficult than my castle.”
“We’d better go then.” She took a deep breath, getting ready to step through.
So, of course, something had to interfere. It began as a cold wind that ruffled the hair and chilled the skin. Then there was a trembling. Dust sifted from the ceiling, drawing the gaze. Which was the only reason she ducked before the claws grabbed hold. Standing by her side, Titus wasn’t as lucky. The demon attacking slammed into the vampire and sent him tumbling off the dais.
Desmond cursed. “Ambush!”
Understatement. More demons fell from the ceiling, their pockets of shadow dispersing. A very good trick to remain unnoticed.
She drew her sword and immediately hacked at the nearest demon, her adrenaline coming in response to her need. The magic came, too, flooding her with strength, lighting her blade with a brilliant blue light that sliced through everything it touched.
But there were so many attacking. Even Desmond, with his mighty dark blade and fierce grin noticed. “They’re trying to prevent us from going through.”
Which meant they had to cross. Anything to spite her enemies.
“To the gate,” she yelled, carving a path. Logan was by her side, a ferocious beast tearing at the monsters in their way. To her left was Titus, eyes blazing, mouth smeared, looking fierce and inhuman.
Only Desmond was missing. A glance over her shoulder showed him pressed on all sides. He needed help.
She half turned to save him when he shouted, not a word, more an exclamation of fierceness. A wave of magic poured from him, bowling over the demons, clearing his route.
“Let’s go before they recover.” He plunged through, dragging her by the hand, making sure she followed.
The chaos turned into absolute silence.
Stepping into the rift was like falling into very cold water. The instant chill stole the breath. The body tightened, partially out of cold but also in fear. The noises taken for granted in the living world, gone.
There was something frightening about the Netherworld. Eerie and yet familiar, too, given every nightmare Erela had ended in it. The swirling gray mist licked around her, and for a moment, fear flickered.
This is where I hid once I escaped.
Broken. Hurting.
Despite her victory, she’d wanted to die. And what easier way than to let the Netherworld swallow her.
I don’t even remember how I made it to the border. But somehow, I ended up in the misty Netherlands. The way station between all worlds.
Some said you could travel within the mists to any world you wanted. More than even the known thirteen. But Erela had never met anyone who had.
The mists were a place to get lost. To disappear forever. From her dreams, she knew she’d given up. Had lain in wait for death to claim her. And something did emerge from the mist, a shining light that reached for her and whispered…
“Beware, they follow.”
She blinked as the memory slipped from her grasp. No time to wonder how she’d gone from the Netherworld to Earth.
Some of the demons had followed them into the rift. Eyes glared with baleful intent. Mouths slavered.
“Stick together. Whatever you do, don’t leave the marked path,” Desmond warned.
“Path? It’s a couple of rocks,” Titus remarked.
Which was correct. The route markers were but jutting stones. The rocks had long worn down to the shallowest of lines. Some had even crumbled.
The demons spread out, looking to encircle the party as they retreated.
“How far to the door to Ha’el?” Erela asked.
“No idea. This isn’t the path I take to my castle.”
The statement froze her. “Then where does this lead?”
“Does it matter?” Desmond asked.
Good point. A few demons darted close, and she swung her sword. An arm hit the path, the black ichor sinking into the hard ground. A stain in this place of grayness. The injured monster ululated in rage.
As if that first parry were a signal, the other demons closed in, circling them, feinting towards the group. Until the first undemonic-like scream.
Which was to say, a demon made it, but it wasn’t a challenge. It was a sound full of fear.
More than a few pairs of eyes shifted to peer at the mist. More screams. A guttural, “There’s something here. Argh!” A cry cut off.
The demons poured onto the path, cramming themselves between the rocks. So many of them together, and yet they ignored Erela and her group.
“Let’s go,” Desmond said softly and tersely.
No one argued. They jogged away from the demons tumbling to get out of the mist.
Would the markers on the path save them from whatever hunted in the fog?
Glancing over her shoulder, Erela stumbled as she saw a
tentacle of smoke whip into the massing demons. The panicked cries flipped her face forward, and they ran, staying between the stones even though she now knew they provided no protection.
“What was that?” Titus asked, keeping pace.
“A chance to live.” Desmond apparently saw the positive in it.
Whereas, Erela…felt like she recognized it. But she wasn’t about to stick around and see why it felt familiar.
As they left the demons behind, the mist hiding them from view, she noticed the fog deepening, concealing the markers, making it challenging to remain on track.
“How do you know where to go?” she asked because Desmond’s stride didn’t slow as he took the lead.
Big shoulders rolled as he said, “I just do.”
A good thing because while he was drawn in one direction, she kind of just wanted to stay.
It was a nice, quiet place. Peaceful, too, once you got used to the chilliness.
The exit rift appeared suddenly from the fog, much larger than the one Earthside. More stable, as well, puffing warmth and scent into this nothing place.
“Where does that go?” Titus asked.
“If I’m correct, then we will be in the territory next to mine.”
“Good or bad thing?” Titus had regained his composure despite his disheveled appearance.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
They stepped through, and the heat hit instantly, bringing a gasp as the arid texture of it filled Erela’s lungs, expelling the icy cold.
“Welcome to Hell,” Titus muttered, looking around.
While the Earthside portal sat underground, the Ha’el exit resided on a barren plain, the ground arid and cracked. The only things marring the surface were dead, scraggly bushes and the occasional rock.
Oh, and the two demon soldiers lying in dark ochre pools of their own blood.
“Something attacked them,” she exclaimed.
“Murdered,” Desmond corrected as he knelt beside the corpse of one. “And made to look as if someone of my household did it.” He pulled the dagger free from the demon’s stomach and displayed the blade bearing the rune of his family.
“Why?” Titus asked.
“War, of course.” Desmond rose and tucked the dagger into his belt. He raised his hands. “But I don’t have time to deal with petty games today.” Fire streamed from his fingers, bright blue and incinerating.
The bodies smoldered and smoked before collapsing and turning to ash.
“They’re still dead,” Titus pointed out.
“But now there’s no evidence as to who did it. We should make haste before their replacements come and we are seen.”
“How come there’s only two guards?” Titus asked with a frown. “Aren’t you worried about—”
“Incursions from your world?” Desmond bared his teeth. “If, by chance, the humans make it through the Netherworld, do you really see many of them lasting long?”
“I never realized there were so many portals to Earth.” Titus frowned.
“There is much you don’t know, vampire. We should get going. Standing here will get us noticed.”
“On foot?”
“Do you see a chariot?” Desmond mocked. “We could fly, but there are dragons in these parts, and they don’t take kindly to sharing their sky.”
“How far to your castle from here?”
“A fair ways.” Desmond’s grim reply.
“We’re wasting time.” Erela stepped between them. It was currently dark in Ha’el, but that wouldn’t last. Like Earth, a sun would rise, and Titus had nowhere to hide if that happened. It chagrinned her to realize she’d not even thought of Titus’s safety when they crossed. Luckily, the night and day cycles of the two worlds aligned.
They traveled quickly across the dusty, hard plain, Logan trotting, the rest of them using long strides that soon had them reaching a rocky hillside. An easy climb followed by an abrupt descent—her fall broken by Desmond, who caught her with magic and set her down gently—led them to the edge of a river that flowed rapidly.
When Logan would have lowered his muzzle, Desmond snapped, “If you value your life, then I wouldn’t advise drinking.”
Her lessons reminded her that the gray water would chew flesh to bone in a matter of seconds. Ha’el’s River Styx was their version of a recycling program. Garbage got dumped into it. Where it ended up? No one knew or cared.
Even the Babylonian’s used it, a treaty with the Dark Lords, allowing them to send through their refuse. For a price.
“How do we cross it?” she asked. “Is there a bridge nearby?”
“No bridge.” Desmond waved his hand in the air, and a red glow swirled in time with it. “We’ll need a boat.”
“How convenient you kept one moored nearby,” Titus snapped.
“Not moored. There are boats that patrol these waters.”
“Given we’re in enemy lands, won’t they turn us in?”
“Only if we board the wrong one.” Desmond raised his hand. “But chance is with us.”
Given the scant illumination, it took a moment before Erela noticed it. It flowed into view, a barge with a cloaked figure standing at the stern, maneuvering with a pole. His long robe didn’t do much to hide the lumpy body. The hood was pushed back, revealing a head that had lost all fat and muscle, just skin pulled taut over a skull.
The barge stopped in spite of the flowing current. “My lord.” The desiccated head dipped in deference.
“My thanks for heeding my call, Charon,” Desmond replied.
“Seriously?” Titus glanced from Desmond to Erela. “Could this get any more cliché. The Styx with the boatman, Charon. Is he going to ask for a coin for passage next?”
“The Charon is already remunerated well for his tasks.”
But Erela understood what Titus meant. “Charon is not his name, but his title. It takes skill to pilot the Styx. Even more to fight the monsters. The Charon are specially trained for this duty.”
“If there’re monsters, then shouldn’t there be more than one of him?”
“My Charon has no need of aid,” Desmond boasted. The demon on board flipped over a board that acted as a gangplank.
Logan trotted on first.
Titus hesitated, so Desmond stepped onto the barge next and then held out his hand.
Erela ignored it as she trod the gangplank, happening to cast a glance down at the moving water. A giant eyeball on a stalk rose from it.
Taking a step back to avoid it, she forgot the edge was close and felt herself teetering…until a firm grip grabbed hold of her. Desmond yanked her on board.
“Ignore the creature. It’s just one of the curious ones.”
Curious indeed. The long stalk with its mauve skin peeked over the edge of the barge and blinked at Erela.
It made her hand itch for her sword. She’d put an end to the spying quick.
“How do they survive if that water is acid?” Titus asked, the last one to board.
“How is it humans can handle the sun but you can’t?” Desmond answered the query with one of his own.
Titus clamped his lips. The vampire wasn’t used to being in the position of the uneducated. Usually, he lorded his knowledge over others.
Feeling sorry for him, she drifted close to his side. “Ignore Desmond. I’m glad you’re here.”
“As if I had a choice.” Words that hinted of bitterness.
“You could have stayed behind.”
“And then wonder what happened?”
“I would have returned.” She said the words he wanted to hear while knowing it was a lie. The certainty that she would never return to Earth had only gotten stronger since she’d passed through the portal.
“What if you didn’t?” He arched a brow. “Then I would be left wondering if my presence would have made a difference. Besides, how many other cabal leaders can claim they’ve actually gone to Hell? This will do wonders for my street cred.”
“Your what?” she asked.
“Reputation,” he said with a faint smile.
The barge held three rows of benches, and Erela took advantage of one, pillowing her head on Logan’s furry body. Closing her eyes, she trusted the others to keep her safe.
Between Titus and Desmond—who shared glares and barbs—surely, one would come to her rescue.
She didn’t know how long she slept, only it wasn’t long enough given night still reigned, and her body remained tired. But on a positive note, the nightmares didn’t haunt her.
She sat up and looked around, wondering why she woke. It took her a moment to realize that Desmond crouched beside her, he sat so still.
He whispered, “Something follows us.”
“Another boat?”
“No. Whatever it is swims the Styx.”
At his words, she turned to look behind them and saw nothing but more darkness. “I don’t see anything.”
“Probably just a big fish,” Titus remarked.
“It’s more than a fish.” Desmond suddenly appeared at the rear of the barge, a ball of light illuminating him. He tossed it, and the light expanded. It lit the wake behind the boat, churning waves with hints of a humping spine surfacing every so often.
“What is that?”
“Trouble,” Desmond replied. “And it waited until we reached the widest part of the river before the final fork to my lands.”
By wide, he meant the shore wasn’t even in sight. A great place for an ambush.
“Keep us steady,” he ordered the boatman.
“You’re going to fight it? Shouldn’t you let your Charon do that?”
“The sooner we’re out of rival waters, the better for us.” He didn’t do anything so foolish as tell her to sit down. Nope, Titus did that.
“Stick close to Logan while we handle it.”
Just for telling her what to do, she stood. “Given my blade is longer than yours, why don’t you sit while I help Desmond?”
“I didn’t mean to imply…” Titus sighed. “Very well. Suit yourself. We’ll both fight.” He waved a hand, and she took a spot opposite Titus. Logan still slept. The sleep of the truly exhausted. She envied him. What she wouldn’t give to have the ability to slumber so soundly. No dreams. No nightmares. Just uninterrupted rest.