by Jon David
“Well, it’s my hope that I can make both places a home, of sorts. But I wanted you to know that if I don’t come back, it’s not that I don’t want to because I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“Sweetie…”
Morgalla felt Dottie’s weak, elderly hand go to her cheek. They were both at a loss for words.
Morgalla left Dottie’s home with a lot to think about. As she walked away, she sensed someone watching. Looking over her shoulder, Dottie’s daughter was inconspicuously standing at the corner. Though Morgalla frowned, she didn’t blame the woman for being cautious.
The morning was chilly and foggy. Morgalla put up her hood. As she walked through town, her eyes were on the ground, pondering just what to do. She hated Hell, but this place wasn’t much better.
Pros of Hell: never cold, plentiful food, Delilah was close by. Oh, and my new room locks.
Cons of Hell: everything else.
Pros of this place…
Morgalla had to think. It was dangerous, but at least the people seemed to be a friendlier…a little. She’d really have to work at making friends here, but if they were anything like Dottie, that should be easy.
Cons: It’s cold. But, if it were one of those worlds with changing seasons it would be warm at least half of the year.
Out of curiosity, Morgalla climbed a ladder on a building to take a look around. Most structures were only two stories tall, and they stretched to the horizon. She wouldn’t be able to guess how many humans lived here, but it certainly had to be in the thousands. It could be a good place to disappear.
But Delilah…
Morgalla owed her everything, and she knew she cared about her. To just leave Hell without explanation or even a goodbye…maybe there was a way to have the best of both worlds. There is a portal to Hell here, though obviously small, where she might be able to come and go as she pleased.
She made up her mind on one point: She had to go talk to Delilah. There was one hurdle, and that was getting back to Hell.
The morning was still foggy as Morgalla made her way out of town and followed the path back. She had to retrace her steps, where she encountered that Deadra person and then back up the cliff to Dracon Peak. Through the forest draped in fog, she saw the cliff face leading upwards into the mist. She took a deep breath and started her ascent.
Using every bit of her strength, Morgalla climbed the rock face until she got to the top. Her energy was spent by the time she got there, but the fog still hadn’t let up. She could tell there were souls somewhere around, but couldn’t determine who or precisely where, or if they were the kind of people she might want to avoid. Through the mist, she saw towers of a castle appear and get clearer as she approached. Now on the highest plateau of the land, it appeared as if the mountain was wearing a crown.
Morgalla froze as an image appeared in the clearing. A figure approached slowly, its boots thumping on the rock. When near enough, the armored creature removed its helmet to reveal a demon underneath. He watched her curiously, wondering how and why a human girl would be in their presence. Was she brave? Was she stupid? What might she want?
She seemed to know he was looking at the demonic symbol that held her cloak in place. His eyes squinted. He awaited her next move, to state her intentions.
Morgalla started the conversation. “There is a portal here.”
“Indeed,” the beast replied. “What is it to a human who is clearly hiding something?”
Couldn’t get anything past him. Surely his skills could see into her soul…the same as she could for him.
His hand was resting on the hilt of his sword with claws wrapped around the grip, ready for action. Pondering what to do, she wasn’t sure what to tell him. He’ll see through a lie for sure. Morgalla revealed her real face to him, her ears growing large and horns appearing from her hair that changed from dark raspberry to orange.
The demon raised an eyebrow. “It is best that you change back. The fewer people who know, the better.” He motioned for her to follow him.
She did as he commanded and resumed her human disguise.
As they walked, more of the castle was revealed to her though still mostly shrouded in morning mist. It was strange to see a fortress in the demon style of architecture among a grey sky and pine trees. Through the main gate, they entered a courtyard and approached the massive front entrance. The doors groaned as they entered, the sound echoing through the high ceiling laced with gold. Thick, ornate columns lined the long hallway. She noticed the carvings in the stone, depicting acts of violence…typical art for demons. The floor was inlaid with gold and precious stones. On the walls hung all types of precious pieces of art. Morgalla was no art critic, but she could easily tell they were from different artists and eras.
At the end of the hallway, there was the biggest painting yet. It was dozens of feet high and depicted a demon standing proud, a sword in his hand. His posture displayed his strength, and his face had the expression of a conquering hero. Morgalla stopped to look at it. Her eyes danced up and down to soak it all in. She studied the guard as he rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
17
The Woodcarver and His Master
Morgalla and the creature continued on to a hall with a large staircase. It was grand with elegant carvings from stone and wood. The marble floor was lined with gold. At the base of the main staircase, she noticed one of the statues was unfinished.
“Wait here,” he said.
Morgalla did as she was told and waited. She was nervous due to the fact that she didn’t know this lord or what his reaction to her might be. But the guard showed no malice in his soul, so she had that going for her.
She felt a presence enter the room and spun around to check the entrance. A young human male stood there, and he seemed surprised to see her…but only for a moment. He averted his eyes to the floor.
The boy was younger than her, barely a teenager, if she had to guess. His brown hair was messy, and his hands were that of a craftsman: filthy. He wore plain clothes with kneepads and heavy leather boots and apron. All of his clothes were used and worn, the leather especially. Goggles hung around his neck.
He approached but kept his eyes on the ground. Morgalla sensed apprehension in his soul and deep concentration. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he knelt and took out a series of woodworking tools. He put on his goggles and went to work on the unfinished pillar.
“Did you do all of these?” she asked.
He stopped what he was doing, sliding the eyewear off and looking up to her. He was surprised she was speaking to him. “Uh…yes.”
“It’s amazing,” she said.
“Thank you,” he replied with a blush.
She looked at him with surprise and knew from his soul that he was telling the truth.
“You’re very talented,” she said.
“Again, thank you,” he replied as he averted his eyes. He looked around. “Why are you here?”
“I…well, I’m seeking help, I suppose.”
“From Lord Makrus?” he said with a chuckle.
“Did I say something funny?”
He checked around to see if anyone was listening. “Well, first off, he’s not really a lord. Too young, as I’m sure you know.
“Of course,” Morgalla replied as if she knew.
“And I hope you have something to offer if you want his help.”
Morgalla sighed. “Great.”
“You must be good with a blade.”
“What makes you say that?”
“If you’re able to survive alone in this land? You must have skill with a weapon.”
She offered her hand. “I’m Morgalla.”
He hesitated, almost surprised at her gesture, but he took her hand nonetheless. “Mylo.”
“Why are you here, Mylo?”
“Better than living outdoors in the wilderness.”
Morgalla thought a moment as he went to work on carving.
“You’re an Izari or from the town?”
Mylo nodded. “I was an Izari. They banished me. Here at least I have a bed and hot food and shelter.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Morgalla said and walked up to another wood pillar and studied the carvings on it. “You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself.”
“When you have a skill such as mine, you find that you end up being rather pampered. For a human, anyway. The only downside is that one must have patience with the lord of this manor.”
“Where did you learn to do this?” Morgalla asked.
“A local artist. I took over for him after…”
Like a switch, his mood went somber.
“Say no more,” Morgalla said.
Morgalla was piecing together a puzzle. This world was strange for sure and for now, she hoped maybe keeping a low profile might be best. She glanced around and saw the demon guard standing in the chamber. He motioned for her to follow him.
“Good meeting you,” Morgalla said to Mylo as she walked away.
“It was…yeah, same to you,” the young man replied with a hint of confusion in his voice. He went back to work.
Morgalla was led through the flamboyant castle. Even the manors and castles of Hell didn’t live up to this place. Tapestries of fine silk and elaborate designs hung from stained-glass windows depicting the visage of Makrus. The same marble and gold floors were beneath her feet, and the artwork again seemed to be from many different cultures, different worlds.
She heard laughter coming from behind a set of doors and noticed the set of golden handles. When opened, a private chamber, mostly white marble, was revealed to her. It was a bathing area of some sort. The fixtures and statues were gold. Morgalla looked at the figure in the large circular tub before her. Makrus, the lord of this land, was up to his waist in bubbles. His red, hairy skin shined, covered in oil. His scraggly beard was unkempt, a large crumb of food rested within view. His horns were decorated with gold rings, and his long, black hair was braided. Human females stood on either side of the tub, laughing with him.
The guard stepped to the side and spoke with a loud voice but without energy. “Presenting his lordship, the Magnificent Makrus.”
Makrus frowned at him. “You were more than a little unenthused there, Bruk.” His lordship’s smile was then aimed at Morgalla, revealing the food stuck between his teeth. “Greetings, my dear.”
“Um, hello.”
“What brings someone like you to my humble home? What message do you have?”
Morgalla knew that lying to a demon as old as him was pointless. “Message? I don’t represent anyone.”
He seemed confused for a moment as one of the females fed him a piece of fruit. “Really? Looking for a master to serve then?”
“Not exactly.”
“Humph. You are difficult, child. I don’t like that. Speak plainly. What is it you want?”
“Passage back to Hell.”
Makrus appeared even more confused. Bruk leaned in and whispered something in his ear. “Oh. A demon who can look human? A rare gift indeed, child. There are those who might pay handsomely for the use of such a skill.”
Morgalla’s eyebrow went up at his words.
Pay handsomely?
Her reaction made him chuckle, and he sensed the intrigue from her soul. “Oh, she likes that idea. So, I’m confused, child. Just where did you come from?”
“I’ve been in the town for a past few days.”
Makrus’s jaw dropped. “And they didn’t suspect you were a demon? Well, you do come off as the pacifist type.”
“They thought I was something called an Izari?”
“Amazing.”
Morgalla thought Makrus was overjoyed, and it wasn’t lost on her that if he was this excited, she might have a bargaining chip.
The demon lord shifted as the bubbled water splashed over his bulbous body. Morgalla made sure not to look down, afraid she might see something she would not want to. One of the lord’s servant girls offered him another piece of fruit.
“Hmmm…me thinks there is something else on your mind, yes?” he said with a wink. “You want more than just passage back to Hell.”
“I was actually hoping that maybe…you would allow me to come and go.”
He laughed. The females joined him, and so did his guard, but their laughter was incredibly fake. “Come and go? As you see fit? My dear, you will need to offer me a lot more than a please if you want access to my portal.”
“One-way then.”
Makrus yawned. “You are boring me, girl. You have nothing I could possibly want.”
He rose from the tub. There weren’t enough bubbles to cover him. Morgalla looked away.
Guavas. Keep thinking of guavas. God, I wish I was anywhere but here.
She made eye contact with Bruk, the guard, who was rolling his eyes again.
Makrus’s bulging body walked to one of the females who held open a case. He selected some rings of various shapes and styles, and his servant girl put them on his clawed fingers. The other servant girl dressed him in a silk robe.
Thank God.
During Morgalla’s silence and disgust, she had to think fast. Surely there must be something…
“I suppose,” she started. “That it depends on what one either wants…or needs.”
“And sometimes they are one and the same,” he replied with a wink.
“I suppose.”
Makrus chuckled as he approached a little closer. He was taller than Morgalla, but not by much, another exaggeration of his portraits.
“I’m a demon of many…desires, my dear. I can make your stay a pleasant one.”
He winked at her. Morgalla struggled to hold back the disgust. She had to think of something happy and fast.
Guavas. They’re very tasty. Wish I had one right now.
“Gosh…sure is tempting.”
He ignored her words and dragged a claw down the symbol of Zorach on her medallion.
“One of Zorach’s underappreciated minions, I see. He’s so boorish, isn’t he?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet.”
Makrus chuckled. “Oh, pray that you don’t, my dear. Are you looking for a new employer, perhaps?”
“I guess it depends on the job.”
“I would promise you a life of luxury like you never have experienced before.”
Morgalla stared blankly at him. Sensing the desires of his soul, she could tell what job he had in mind for her. She continued thinking of guavas and the forests of Usteron…the sunsets and the sunrises…Dottie’s lovely smile and warm nature.
Makrus grinned. “I see you are drawn to the possibility.”
Well, at least he believes I’m thinking about him.
Morgalla remained still.
He wasn’t done with his interrogation. “You aren’t here because of Zorinda or Zorach, are you? Makraka perhaps?”
“None of the above.”
With Morgalla’s words spoken in confidence, Makrus was overjoyed. “Oh, how delightful. Delicious. That’s just what I wanted to hear.”
“My dear, plans are in place to finally secure my kingdom from the ever-watchful eye of the Dark One.”
“If the Dark One truly has that ‘ever-watchful eye’ as you said, why tell me your plans?”
Makrus chuckled. “Oh, how delightful. Such wit on you. Indeed, it is foolish to speak ill of our dark master out loud, but even he cannot see and hear everything. I learned that long ago.” The lord lumbered to a large, comfortable chair. “See, my father started a little scheme more than a hundred years ago. Mistress Zorinda, my master, charged him with mining the black metal that lies beneath my palace. After his death, I ascended to his throne. So long as I keep the black metal flowing to their armories, people like Makraka keep out of my business.” He chuckled again.
“Devious. But why not keep things the way they are? You seem to be doing well.”
“Well, there is the risk of
being discovered, you know.”
“You want to be left alone permanently.”
He smiled at her, but when another door opened, his face lit up. One of his servants, a human male, came in gripping a chain. At the end of the last link was a collared, wingless dracon who pulled at the leash.
“There’s daddy’s little devil,” Makrus crooned, leaning down and kissing the beast on its snout. The dracon returned the affection by licking his master’s face with its long, black tongue. “Who’s daddy’s Pookie? Who’s daddy’s widdle Pookie?”
As Makrus laughed, Morgalla looked up to the demon Bruk whose annoyance was bubbling over in his soul. He watched her and shrugged.
Makrus rose and approached his ladies again. One had a bottle and spritzed a fragrance on her master. Morgalla smelled it from where she was standing, and it wasn’t unpleasant. The demon approached Morgalla again, and she felt his eyes all over her body.
“Listen, female. You are in my domain, and my word here is law. I have many warriors, and your sword will be an asset to me. I expect everyone here to remember one thing: I am the master.” He turned to Bruk. “Isn’t that right, Bruk?”
Bruk’s response was immediate. “Yes, Master.”
Makrus then faced the women. “Isn’t that right, ladies?”
“Yes, Master,” they said in unison.
Makrus then focused on the human who had entered the room, still clenching the chain leash. “Giles?”
“Of course, Master.”
Makrus chuckled and smirked at Morgalla with a wicked grin. There was an intensity in his eyes that Morgalla could almost feel physically in her very heart. She took a step back.
“And what say you, child?”
“I…”
Morgalla fought an urge. It was as if his very gaze was trying to make her soul submit to him. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest as sweat formed on her forehead. She couldn’t stop breathing quick and shallow.
“There is strength in you, I see,” he said with a grin. “Fine, return to Hell. Return to Zorach and his iron fist. Avoid the gangs of demons looking to rape a young female like yourself.” His words and his grin sent chills along her flesh. “No matter, they all submit to me sooner or later. Giles, why not show our new friend to one of our guest rooms?