"Kneel!" Orlog demanded, and Isolde suddenly realised that the witch was down on one knee before the serpent's head.
"What is this?" Isolde asked as her eyes became more and more mesmerized.
"The abyss!" Orlog hissed. "The devourer of souls, what goes in, does not come out."
Isolde swallowed hard as she knelt next to Orlog.
An unnatural breeze blew through Isolde's hair and she could hear the flames behind her sputter. The thick air condensed around her until it was hard to breathe. She could tell Orlog felt it too because she lowered her head further. But Isolde didn't feel the fear, she raised her eyes and looked at the throne. A swirling mass of black shadows danced around the seat, and slowly formed into something humanoid, physically there, but ethereal as its body shifted and danced like a shadow. Two flaming eyes fluttered open where the head should have been and darkness swallowed up the throne behind it as the form of great black wings spread out.
"Did you bring the ruby soul?"
The voice was chilling, as though it came from three or four different throats at once. Isolde heard the question, but she didn't know how to answer, it was like the thick air around her had choked her throat.
"Did you bring the ruby soul?" the voices asked again.
Isolde nodded and managed to break the spell.
"I did," she said.
"Good, then give it to me." As the voices spoke, the shadows morphed and a dark arm spread itself over the abyss from the throne to reach out to Isolde.
"No," she said defiantly, "not for free."
"For what, then?"
"For my mother's freedom, and for the freedom of Marco de Scopa."
The arm curled back and whisked away into the air as thunderous laughter screeched out from the throne. Orlog snarled and cackled and turned her crooked head to Isolde.
"Who are you to make demands here?" she barked.
"Silence!" the voices demanded. "A soul for a soul is fair, but two for one is a bargain I cannot do. Bring them forth and make her choose."
Like clockwork, the devil's command was obeyed and her mother and friend were brought forth by demonic hosts. Isolde jumped to her feet at the sight of her mother and she screamed as the demons tore her back. She looked so fair, yet broken and betrayed. Her white hair was knotted and frayed and her eyes cast downward.
"What have you done to her!?" Isolde screamed at the shadow on the throne.
Silence answered her and the witch laughed. Isolde glanced back at the prisoners, her mother's eyes would not meet hers, but Marco's were full of fear as he looked back and forth from her to the abyssal throat of the stone snake.
"Choose!" demanded the voices.
Isolde's mind raced, how could she choose? She needed her mother, it was why she came but how could she leave Marco here? Her head started to spin and go light. She could hear her name being called but she was phasing out. Louder and louder, Isolde... before it dropped away and she was back in the hall.
The first warning...
Harald had done his job, she had to do hers. She had to make a choice.
CHAPTER XIII
Harald flashed the fire with the bonemeal and called out to Isolde through the veil of the netherworld. He stopped himself from continuing and eased back from the sacrificial fire. He felt sick inside. Another corpse destroyed, another chicken cut apart for the sickening ritual. As he sat back in the flickering shadows of the tomb he heard scratching from far behind him. He twisted his back and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Again, scratching, like rats. But he knew there were no rats down here, it was only him.
"HELLO HARALD!"
The voice shocked Harald to his core, he knew it at once and sprung to his feet.
"By Holy Hēr's name, I demand you to yield and flee to the darkness in which you came!"
"BUT I AM ALREADY HERE, HARALD. I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE, IN THE DARKNESS, IN YOUR MIND!"
Harald was panicking, he didn't have time for this. He had only a few precious minutes before he had to pull Isolde back again.
"I TOLD YOU, SHE WOULD DIE, I TOLD YOU, YOU WOULD DIE!"
As the voice rolled away, Harald felt the tight grip of claws close around his neck. He reached around to pry them off but could feel nothing there. His heart was thundering as he struggled to exhale his breath. Sharp nails dug into his skin he felt his head go lighter and lighter. He had to get this fiend away, he had to summon Isolde back before it was too late.
***
Isolde's eyes flickered between her mother's down-cast face and Marco who looked at her with steady eyes. They're gazes locked, and without words, she understood what he was trying to say. He had accepted his fate, he knew what she was going to do, and even though it was all so obvious to her, Isolde still hesitated.
"Choose!" the voices demanded.
Isolde turned back to the shadowy form.
"Show yourself, Bezhaal. Do not hide in the shadows like a cowering foe. Show me your true form," she said.
The shadow cackled and murmured and screamed in a cacophony of vile voices that seemed unsettled with her words. She watched the shadowy darkness swirl, and the flaming eyes sparkle and hiss like water splashed on a flame. The air grew thicker and with one sudden rush, the shadows were sucked in before exploding back out to show Bezhaal in all his glory.
Isolde stepped back from the sudden intensity of his appearance. The demon king was both beautiful and terrifying. Sun-kissed skin merged with dark muscular features. Strong arms ran up to sculptured shoulders and fine leathery wings spread out from behind his form. But it was the beast's eyes that captured Isolde, beautifully blue, like azure crystals sparkling at the bottom of a riverbed. They were wicked things, sucking her in with feigned innocence where everything around them spoke of sadistic intent.
"Choose," he said, and his voice was clear and steady. Spoken with confidence and calm, without the hint of any accent or struggle. "Will it be your mother or your friend. Who will you trade for the soul of the Black Witch? Who will you let live so the other might suffer?"
Isolde shook her head slowly in disbelief. This was it, this is what she had been waiting for.
"Free my mother and give me safe passage, and I will give you the ruby."
"It is a deal," he said, "now hand it over."
"No," Isolde said, "you free her first, and then I will hand it over."
"It is done," he said, and with a click of his slender fingers, Bezhaal released whatever hold he had on Isolde's mother.
She watched as her mother's long face turned upward, she smiled at her daughter as white light began to break through her skin. Isolde swore she saw her mother's lips mouth the word love before she faded out of Bezhaal's dark realm.
"Now hand Orlog her soul."
Isolde wiped a tear from her eye and looked back at the menacingly beautiful Bezhaal. Orlog stood to her feet and reached out with her open hand as Isolde slipped into her jacket and felt the rough cut ruby.
Where is Harald...
She needed to hear his voice before she could make her move. The eyes of the demon and witch were on her. She had no time, she had to do it now. She pulled the ruby out of her jacket.
"No!" screamed Marco.
He ripped free of his demon guards and vaulted across the floor to Isolde. With a hip to her side, he pushed her out the way and ripped the ruby from her hands. Isolde crashed into Orlog as the witch shrieked and Bezhaal gasped in shock.
"Forgive me!" Marco cried as he dived into the gaping mouth of the stone snake.
Isolde watched as they blue chaos of the abyss vomited up and swallowed him whole, the hands and faces ripping out from the nothingness to tear him downward. Her heart was hammering, this is not how it was meant to be, and the deafening shriek of Orlog made her wheel around.
The witch's body was cracking open, the deep scars and engraved runes exploding with black light. It streamed out of her as if purging the evil from whatever was left of her form. She cried out and the black turn
ed to the deep blue of the abyss and flowed from her mouth and eyes. With a single, silent, cataclysmic boom, the light flashed out and then was sucked back in to her, swallowing the witch whole until nothing was left.
Isolde stepped back, she had no ruby anymore. No bargaining chip. Where was Harald!
"Take her!" Bezhaal's voice boomed, and the demon guards rushed Isolde.
She clicked her fingers and ripped them to shreds with her sword before turning back on Bezhaal. The beautiful man clapped softly, stood from his chair, and with outstretched wings, vaulted over the abyss and landed before Isolde.
"That was a nice trick," he said with hatred in his eye, "but let me show you a better one!"
***
Harald's face felt like it was going to explode. His tongue was bulging and his eyes felt like they were going to burst. He desperately tried to pry the invisible fingers from his throat but it was no use. He thrashed himself across the floor and crashed into the heaped bones and dust. His vision was waning, the darkness was creeping in around the edges of his sight.
He gagged and pleaded in his mind for release as white light came streaming in, was this death? The pain was abating, the light was growing, and suddenly his neck was free and he could gasp air as a thunderous voice boomed around him.
"Daemonum et revertetur in umbra!"
The light faded back and Skaldi stood before Harald, his eyes white and scanning the darkness of the crypt's corners. The old man's hands glowed white, and his lips were turned up.
"Skaldi..." Harald managed to whisper through a hoarse throat.
"Get up, you fool, summon her back before it is too late!"
***
The fire pits exploded to life, sending great pillars of flame high into Bezhaal's throne room. The heat was intense, Isolde could feel it searing her skin as she stepped back from the approaching demon king.
"You liar," Bezhaal spat. "We had a deal, you and I, a pact to benefit us both."
Isolde spat at his feet and rose her sword high at his beautiful body.
Bezhaal cackled and laughed at her. "You are in the land of the gods now, Isolde. What is your mortal blade going to do here? What can you do to me?"
Her eyes flickered to the sword and the blade's engravings flashed in the red light of the flames. She remembered the words Skaldi had explained to her, and for a moment she seemed to be back in his cabin in Eyndale.
"in god's hands..." she said without thinking.
The demon king laughed again and stepped forward.
"In god's hands?" he said with sickening confidence. "Don't you know, little girl, no god can protect you now. I am the only god here!"
Isolde stepped forward to meet Bezhaal with a wicked smile breaking across her face.
"That is not what it means..." she said.
Bezhaal stopped his advance and seemed to grow in stature. Slowly swelling so that he doubled the size of Isolde. But it was no use for him, she took another step forward, keeping her blade poised at his heart.
"I am a creator of life," she said, "all mothers are gods."
The demon hissed at her and lunged forward. Isolde thrust her blade out, keeping her eyes locked onto Bezhaal's, as the force of his weight came bearing down on her. She felt the blade pierce his flesh and scrape through his body. With both of his great hands, Bezhaal thrust Isolde back and she flew to the ground with a crash. She watched, horrified as he pulled her blade out his chest and threw it back to her.
The wound closed over without a drop of blood, leaving Bezhaal's chest as smooth and perfect as it ever was. She snatched up her sword and circled the beast. He watched her, with steady eyes and a wicked smile.
"What are you going to do now, goddess Isolde?" he asked, mocking her collapsed confidence.
She didn't know what to do and he knew it. She cursed herself, where was Harald? She needed to get out, now!
"Why?" she cried out, backing up slowly toward the throne. "Why me? Why my mother and family?"
"Why, why, why?" he chatted back. "Because I needed an outlet. A way back into the world of mortals. I don't really care about you, you really are just a fly to me, to be swatted away."
"No!" Isolde cried out. "That's not true, tell me why you have hunted me."
"No, really," he said taking a step toward her, "you are nothing too me. A pawn in a bigger game. Orlog was the one who wanted you. I just wanted the baby inside your belly to spread my faith and bring me more souls."
"You lost him," Isolde growled and thrust her blade menacingly at the demon.
"No, no, no, Isolde, not yet. He has still been touched by my grace, even if the witch is dead."
Isolde saw red. The rage boiled up and over and she exploded forth at the beast with a flurry of blinding blows. Bezhaal dodged every one and grabbed her by the wrists. She felt his power as his fingers clamped down so hard that her bones felt like they were bending in.
"I will whisper in his ear," Bezhaal said softly as he leaned into Isolde. "And I will make him do things you cannot imagine."
Isolde screamed out, the force of her soul, all her strength, everything within her rushing to the surface. She felt the strength of life itself flow through her veins and she let it consume her being. She broke Bezhaal's grip and took the beast by his face and ripped him past her toward the snake's mouth. He cried out in fear as he hurtled toward the chaotic pool, and managed to catch himself on the lip of the abyss.
"You will have nothing!" Isolde cried out and with a mighty leg, kicked Bezhaal square in the chest and sent the beast sprawling backwards into the mouth of the serpent. She watched his legs give way and his hands grasp out in the air in front of him before falling back and being ripped down into the nothingness. Even as those haunted hands dragged him down, the demon-king still fought for his freedom, thrashing in the waters and fighting his way back up. Isolde never smiled as she watched Bezhaal sink away, she just watched with hatred in her heart as one of the world's evils was swallowed up.
As the waters lapped up the last tips of his fingers, there was a great shift in the ground below her feet. It was like a cataclysmic earthquake, shaking the keep to its foundations. The stonework shuddered again and she came crashing down to her knees as the great stone pillars began to give way all around her. Isolde's heart was pounding, flames were spitting up from flipped fire pits and masonry exploded on every side. The walls collapsed and she saw the sky open up all around her. A great pillar crumbled, spitting chips of gravel into her face and the ground shunted violently as the stone floor waned to the side.
She got to her feet as the flooring collapsed beneath her feet and she dived out into a free fall. Terror wiped her mind free of thought, she was frozen as she fell with nothing to catch her below. Bezhaal's kingdom opened up miles below her as she plummeted down with the falling stonework and masonry. The ground was racing upwards and she could see great chasms ripping the city apart and swallowing sections of slums whole.
And then it came. Like angels sent to bear her up once more. The heavenly voice of Harald calling her name. Isoldeee... Isssoolldeee.... She felt the lightness in her head. The ground was coming closer. She could see it, yet her vision was whiting out. Isssolldeee....
CHAPTER XIV
Isolde gasped and ice water flooded her lungs as she opened her eyes to the stone roof of Heroth Nuir's cavern. She felt herself be hauled up and out of the water and a rough hand beat her back as she coughed up a lung full of water and phlegm.
"It's alright, my darling. We got you safe now," came Thodin's deep voice.
"Snorri," he said, "get the others!"
She sputtered out the last of the water she had breathed in and rolled onto her back on the cold stone of the temple's underworld.
"Is it done?" Thodin asked with anxious eyes.
She managed to nod as Snorri came back leading Skaldi and Harald.
"My Isolde," Skaldi cried out and came down to her with a crunch of his old knees. He scooped up her soaked head and rested it on
his lap.
"Is the witch dead?" Snorri asked.
Skaldi turned to the dwarf and snapped, "give her room, let her breathe. She needs rest and the answers will come in their own time."
Isolde closed her eyes and saw herself falling again. The demon, the witch, it was so real. She fell into an exhausted sleep right there in Skaldi's lap and never felt herself being carried back upstairs. By the time she woke, she found herself in a bed of warm furs with a roaring fire keeping away the cold. Her body ached and she tenderly touched her wrists. They were bruised dark purple, Bezhaal's last grip had left its mark, but it would fade.
She slipped out of bed and opened the room's door to the main hall of the temple. The light was low and only some of the monks were chanting. It must have been deep night. But still, she saw light flittering from beneath Vis's door, so she crossed the hall and made her way to it. As she creaked the door open, warm air flooded out and all her friends stood to greet her. Each one embraced her and she held them tight, trying to absorb the love they were giving as if to revitalise what was drained from the netherworld. Finally, Harald came and took her in his arms, and she buried her face into his chest and burst into tears.
"Shh..." he reassured her and put a comforting hand on the back of her head. "It is done now."
She looked up at Harald and saw the deep gouges and red rings around his neck. She gasped at the sight and put a hand on the wounds, but he took her fingers away and guided her to a chair by the fire instead, telling her it was alright.
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