“You think?” whispered Nemis with quite a bit of sarcasm.
At the next intersection, he pointed to the right—they turned.
As they began walking this new direction, he muttered, “We have a few options at our disposal. Fight our way in, sneak in, or allow ourselves to be captured and brought forth before the leader, in which this final option will probably happen anyway. Which option sound best to you?”
“Umm, I suppose sneaking in, but I have no clue about how we’re going to get in there undetected.”
“Well, we’ll have to see about finding a route.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Keep walking.”
A few steps later, from out of nowhere yet everywhere around them, there came the sounds of loud, deep and echoing horns from all around the city. Although neither person had a clue as to why they were going off, other than the fact it was an alarm of some type, the citizens apparently did as they concurrently stopped in his, it, or her tracks…in order to turn and face at the pair.
Although Baltor was ready to draw his swords and fight in the very next second, he unexpectedly became teleported from one place to another, discovering that he now stood alone inside an old dungeon cell, in which a glowing-red orb that hovered five feet up in the air near the corner and provided a hint of light. He could still hear the horns, but now they sounded very muffled and quiet.
Upon closer examination of his jail—in which the floor, the walls and the ceiling were made of concreted brown bricks without a single window but one steel door—he noted that the floors were not only dirty yet nasty from quite a few stinky piles of feces and/or puddles of urine—there was no furniture, including a bed.
Finally yet most importantly, he didn’t have to glance down at himself to know that he was now wearing just his loincloth and nothing else—even his beloved swords were nowhere in sight, which only infuriated his anger that much more.
“Darkling great,” Baltor swore out with unreserved agitation. “Forget all this…this is too crazy and difficult…I’m going home where I freaking belong!”
Just after he had begun to form a mental image of his very own throne room in his very own palace on his very own world, in order to teleport home, he expected the rune to appear inside his very own mind…but, for the first time ever, this rune did not appear.
Although furious, he proceed with care around the excrements and over to the door—and once there, he slammed both fists as hard as he could into it, which power would have shattered most other doors to smithereens…but not this one. This door didn’t even dent or budge, nor was there even a slight sound from the impact.
Shaking his head in utter disbelief—especially because he had become imprisoned, weaponless, and just about naked in one split second—he closed his eyes and began to breathe deep in his nose and out his mouth.
Like every time before, a relaxing sensation slowly-but-surely began to course through his body, mind and soul. After taking a few such breaths, he felt calm.
The very second that his conscious mind had again begun to wonder at the location of all his belongings, only a few seconds later, he shockingly felt that his clothes, boots and helmet were back on his body, as if they had never been gone.
He next reached back behind his shoulders with his hands, and sure enough, they both felt the soft leather handles of his swords. At the same time, the lock to the door unlocked, the door opened, and in walked one of those large, red devils.
Baltor could see that this devil bore a strange type of runic symbol burned on its chest—none of the previous devils he had seen had any sort of rune. This time, he did not draw his swords, but slowly lowered his hands until relaxed at his sides.
Pointing its clawed finger at Baltor, the devil barked, “Hey—how did you get all your stuff back?”
“The mind is a very powerful tool,” he answered evenly, “but don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you, unless you attack me first.”
It laughed out in raucous tones, “Ho ho ho! Oh, I’m not worried—not at all. Even if you manage to slice my head off, both my head and body will re-grow separately and then you’ll be dealing with two of us…ha ha ha!”
Not sounding amused at all, Baltor asked, “So why are you here for?”
“Supreme-Devil-Lord Beeal is waiting to see you now. Escape is futile, so follow me.”
Baltor sighed, “Lead the way.”
Without even caring whether-or-not the prisoner was following right behind, the devil tromped out of the cell and turned to the right—Baltor followed.
This long-and-narrow hallway outside contained ninety-nine other cells on both sides of the wall, as well twenty other red-devil guards who patrolled the area. In between each cell door hovered a red orb. The devils stared evilly at the prisoner as he passed on by.
Baltor’s guard led him first through that hallway, as well a half-dozen additional hallways that contained more cells, orbs, and guards, until finally they came across a spiraling staircase that went up.
It took them nearly ten minutes for them to arrive at the top of the stairs. After traversing this next straight-and-narrow hallway that ended about a half-mile down, there stood a pair of gold doors, guarded by two fifty-foot-tall black-devils, each with a red, glowing rune on its powerful chest—these doors were closed.
Once Baltor’s guard had neared, about three minutes later, the doors opened on their own.
Inside this unbelievably exquisite throne room—literally one hundred times the size of Baltor’s—it had been decorated with the most beautiful and exotic furniture, artwork and treasures he had ever seen. Three elephant-sized wolf-beasts sat on their haunches on the royal-red carpeted floor in the room’s middle, surrounding and protecting the one-and-only kingly throne, made of gold and partially covered in red velvet. These wolf-beasts were far uglier and vicious up close!
Baltor could not help but notice the middle-aged man, perhaps forty, who casually sat sideways on this throne, with his feet kicked high up in the air. He was built like a tank, and his muscle definition could clearly be seen through his very distinguished clothes—a blood-colored collared shirt with a white, fluffy tie, black pants, black knee-high boots, and a black wide-brimmed hat with a long, red feather sticking out of it. His curly, blond hair reached halfway down his back, and the goatee on his flawless, handsome, smiling face was twelve inches long. Out of everything regarding this man—really this Arch-Devil—the thing that “stood out the most” were his eyes: they looked like they could barely control the seething rage inside.
As the guard began to near the throne, he called out, “Supreme-Devil-Lord Beeal. Your guest has arrived…”
“Excellent,” Beeal chimed aloud, “you may go.”
“But sire?”
“Go.”
The guard did not question again, but proceeded to head for the sole exit in this room.
Beeal henceforth sat up in his seat, until sitting proper. Once so, he sounded like a friendly diplomat as he greeted, “Welcome, Sultan Baltor Elysian, from the planet of Sharia. I have been expecting you.”
Looking both surprised and confused, Baltor asked a handful of moments later, “You’ve been expecting me?”
“Certainly,” Beeal replied right away and with a devilish smile, “I’ve known about your presence since you landed on my beach. Ever since have I been carefully studying everything about you…my, my, my, you are such a fascinating creature.”
Baltor did not know how to respond, so he did not say anything.
Without losing his smile, Beeal continued, “So you’re here to rescue a friend…hmmmm? Some friend you are, or should I say, some friend you have.”
“Yes to all the above,” Baltor simply answered.
“I also see you’ve gotten your armor and weapons back,” Beeal stated, just before he sighed. “I do remember that I clearly ordered my guards to lock all that up for safekeeping, especially those beautiful swords of yours, and yet…you somehow have them
back! Most fascinating.”
“Thank you, Beeal,” Baltor said with a nod.
After sitting up in his seat in the blink of an eye, Beeal’s facial expression turned from “pleased to peeved!” His index finger pointed just-as-fast at Baltor, just before his mouth yelled with anger, “You will give me the common courtesy of identifying me with my hard-earned rank, as I have done with you, Sultan Elysian!” His words echoed off the walls a half-dozen times.
Baltor delivered a slight bow, before stating sincerely, “My sincerest apologies, Arch-Devil Beeal. I meant no disrespect.”
Beeal sat back, before his face cleared of all anger, even his eyes. Once again sounding pleased, Beeal stated with a crooked smile, “Close enough. Thank you, Sultan.”
Baltor asked, “Instead of doing all this social chitter-chatter, can we please just get to the point of this here meeting, please?”
The Arch-Devil rose to his feet—his smile was gone once more, with the pupils in his eyes flashing “fire” for a few seconds! At the same time, the wolf-beasts next to him began to growl quite angrily and menacingly…ready and eager to hear the order to “attack!”
Baltor did not reach for his swords, although he was ready to do so.
Perhaps ten hold-your-breath seconds passed, which timeframe felt an eternity to Baltor, before the devil’s posture relaxed and he sighed. After sucking a deep breath, Beeal looked and sounded rather disappointed as he said, “Fine…but I must say that you humans are so dull in the fact that you can’t stop to chit-chat once in a while. Rush-rush-rush.”
As he began to walk closer, his expression abruptly transformed to business-like, just before he asked, “Fine then, you want to get straight to business? Let’s make a deal, Sultan Elysian…I’ve ruled this Plane of Hell for the last millennium. And though the Crimson Wars you see outside my Capitol once proved a great source of entertainment for me, this war will never stop as it is somehow beyond even my control—I think the Chief of Devils Azalea is responsible. To be honest, I’m sick and tired of hearing these explosions. I want more…much more.” By this time, he stood only five feet away.
Baltor shook his head a few times, in order to try to air out the confusion going on in his brain, which actions did not work whatsoever. He therefore asked, “What more could an Arch-Devil possibly want that his very own hellish plane?”
Hearing that question, Beeal began to laugh evilly—the beasts were cackling as well, sounding just like hyenas.
Once he had stopped laughing, he lightly clapped both hands together, before answering without an ounce of humor, “Why…there are eight grander planes!”
“What do you want me to do for you? Kill all of the other Arch-Devils, so that you can be the quote-unquote ‘top dog’?”
Beeal sighed, “No… Just the Arch-Devil of the Second Plane—his name is Set. It will take me at least a millennium or two more to gain enough power to wrest control over the Third Plane. By then, I may have someone else like you working for me…maybe even y-o-u.”
Baltor considered agreeing to “the devil’s deal,” but for only a moment. Instead of answering, he asked the question that had been lingering in his mind, “What about Nemis?”
“What about her?” Beeal asked oh-so-innocently.
“Well…I need to take her with me to the next plane, as she is my teammate,” Baltor said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Furthermore, what I also need from you, if I were to agree to your deal, is for you to magically ensure that she and I don’t get detected by Set once we land on his beach. Last but not least, I need you to enchant both of my swords so that they can actually kill this Arch-Devil, even temporarily…then you and I have a deal.”
“My, my, my,” Beeal replied, “you ask a lot, Sultan Elysian!”
After releasing a single chuckle that did not sound amused one iota, Baltor replied evenly, “As do you, Supreme-Devil-Lord Beeal.”
Extending out his hand, Beeal said with a crooked smile, “Deal.”
Baltor extended out his own hand—in the next moment, as they shook hands, he unexpectedly began to sense that Beeal was attempting to psychically probe into his mind! Though he tried to yank his hand away with all of his strength, even with his superhuman strength, he couldn’t release the grip—he yelled, “Stop!”
“Relax, Sultan. I’m just trying to extract some information about you…in particular, I want to know what immortal race you belong to, although your human disguise is nearly perfect.”
By the time he had finished speaking, Baltor only then felt his mental defenses beginning to collapse under this devil’s superior mental offenses—acting only under instinct, his free hand grasped his sword, drew it out of its sheath, and sliced off Beeal’s hand!
While that hand dropped to the ground, Beeal’s other hand grasped and clutched at his handless and blood-pouring wrist, while crying out in agony and pain! Two seconds later, that wrist had already grown a brand-new hand, and he stopped crying. All the while, the wolf-beasts had not only risen to their feet, yet were now rushing hardcore at Baltor!
As for Baltor, he had not waited around, but had already rolled a half-dozen times to safety, before assuming the ready position with swords drawn and facing them all.
Beeal began to clap his hands while laughing, “Ha ha ha….very clever…bravo!”
Sensing that the wolf-beasts were about to leap onto Baltor, in order to tear him to pieces, he added, “Hold your tracks, my friends…this is my fault because I did not ask his permission.”
The wolf-beasts had already stopped in their tracks, only a dozen feet away, though they continued to furiously bark, and growl, and drool.
“Will you please tell me your race, Sultan Elysian?”
“No, sir…some things are better left unknown.”
“Fine then, be that way,” Beeal said with a hint of dissatisfaction. That face cleared right up, just before he stated, “Sometime in the future, that is if you manage to survive the other eight planes, I want you to come back and find me…I feel that you and I would get along famously and would work well together.”
“Perhaps,” Baltor responded, while sheathing his swords. “But I doubt it will happen. I already have other plans.”
Instead of replying, the Arch-Devil turned around and began walking toward his throne. While enroute, he snapped his fingers one time, just before saying nonchalantly, “As per the deal, your swords now have the power to kill Set.”
He snapped his fingers yet again: in the next second, Nemis appeared only a few feet away beside Baltor. She was clothed and with all her gear, including her staff.
“Where—where am I?” she asked, looking slightly dazed.
He put his index finger in front of his lips, in order to silence her—she clammed up.
Beeal snapped his fingers a second time—this time, both Baltor and Nemis glowed a black color, but for only another second.
Nemis was about to ask what had just happened, but again, Baltor gestured for her to keep silent—she did.
Meanwhile, Beeal pushed a button on his throne, which began to tilt backwards until the top rested one inch above the floor. A large, circular hole existed underneath where the bottom of the throne had once been, and they could all hear the sounds of flowing water below.
It was then that Beeal turned around to face Baltor and Nemis, just before giving a little smile. “If you do not fulfill your part of the deal, Sultan Baltor Elysian, I will personally come find you and feast off your body and soul for all eternity, no matter your race.”
After giving Nemis a little wink, he added right away, “As for you, young and beautiful mage, perhaps one day you might want to also join my ranks, but that is a subject for you to think about in the future…but not now. Go.”
Without another word spoken, Baltor clasped her hand as he guided her around the wolf-beasts that were in the process of backing up, and up to the hole.
Once there, they jumped into the river. Before it could flush them down to the next
plane of hell, Baltor’s mind clearly heard Beeal’s voice say, Remember our deal, Sultan.
CHAPTER II
After a most thrilling ride down one single waterslide that twisted and turned in nearly every direction—especially downward—and lasted almost an hour’s time (if time existed), Baltor and Nemis were both dumped a dozen-or-so feet below the depths of the River Styx.
Right away they swam their way back up, and once they reached the surface but a couple of seconds later, the very first thing to capture their attention was the fact that they were now surrounded by thousands and thousands of miles of desert just about everywhere they looked. Jagged mountains were the backdrop.
Instead of taking a thorough look around first, Baltor pointed toward the riverbanks on the left side, just before dog-paddling that direction. Nemis followed right behind.
Even before reaching dry land, a handful of seconds later, they had observed and noted all the “other trivialities” about their current surroundings, but of course, not in the same order: One, the only source of water poured out of an “invisible pipe in the skies.”
Two, that same water poured into the fifty-foot wide river that oh-so-gently flowed two opposite directions upon a perfectly straight line beyond vast stretches of desert sand dunes and/or small groups of palm trees. Unlike the previous plane where all the vegetation was dead, all of the vegetation around here was green and vibrant.
Three, to their left, there stood the single largest structure that either person had ever seen, possessing the shape of a triangle that was as wide as it was tall—five hundred miles tall, Baltor’s mind calculated! The river spanned for a grand total sixty miles before draining into the very middle of this structure.
Four, there was an extremely bright, white and hot sun positioned directly over this structure, which structure proved to be the sole sign of civilization around here.
And five, they discovered with relief that there were no wandering creatures, souls, demons, monsters, or devils to be dealt with, yet. In fact, the only life forms at all to be discovered were the vegetation including palm trees, and the two of them—not even bugs, birds or fish.
The War of All Wars Page 7