“It is—compared with the rest of Hell. Though wandering, eternally lost and miserable through the mists is not pleasant,” he said. “The whole region is ruled by Azmodan the Absent, so named because he is almost never here. He is one of the seven.”
“One of the seven what?” I asked, intrigued despite myself.
“The seven Satanic Archdukes or Great Demons. The Princes of Night and Shadows who rule over the seven circles of Hell respectively. They are in constant conflict with each other—each seeking to better his position and raise his status by infiltrating the territory of the others.”
“Sounds…fun,” I muttered.
“It is anything but,” Laish said seriously. “The endless disputes and battles for domination—the Blood Wars as they are called—have been raging since before your world began.” He sighed. “And they will probably still be raging long after it ends.”
“The Blood Wars? And you commanded a legion in them? Why did you stop?” I asked.
He sighed again. “You have no idea how tired of warfare and combat you can become. After several millennia, I simply decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. I retired to my little estate in Hades—which looks much like the Plane of Irresolution, by the way, although not nearly as foggy—and kept to myself. I like it better that way. That is where I was when I heard your call and came to help you the very first time.”
“So, what—you came to help me out of boredom?” I asked. “Because you were tired of sitting around the house?”
“Initially,” he admitted. “But then something kept me coming back. You kept me coming back, Gwendolyn.”
“What—me?” I half turned to face him again. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Laish. I’m just an ordinary human girl.”
“Mon ange, you are anything but ordinary,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear. “As to the reason I keep coming back to you and cannot leave you alone…” He shook his head. “I wish I knew the answer to that myself.”
The burning ruby eyes looking into mine were suddenly too much. I turned around again and sat up a little more, making sure to keep distance between us despite the uncomfortably pleasurable rubbing between my legs.
“Tell me more,” I said. “We’re going to cross over the river Styx—is that right? And then where to?”
“The City of Baator ruled by Tiamat the Exacting, another of the seven. But we must pay the price to pass from the first circle to the second circle before we can cross the river.”
“Pay the price?” I didn’t like the sound of that at all. I turned my head to look at him again. “What price? Like some kind of a toll?”
“You will see,” he said neutrally. “In the meantime, simply enjoy the ride. You can lean back against me if you like—I won’t bite, you know.”
“I know.” I could feel my cheeks getting hot and I turned around again hurriedly. “But I’m fine. Just fine.”
“If you’re worried that I will take liberties I will not—not yet, anyway. It isn’t time for that,” he murmured.
When will it be time? I wanted to ask but I kept my mouth firmly shut. I felt like I had been waiting for the other shoe to drop ever since he’d taken my hand and transported us both to the Shadow Lands. When exactly would he think was the right time to exact his ‘payment’ and what would he want to do?
Better not to think about it.
Instead, I concentrated on the swirling mists around us and the dull thunk-thunk-thunk of the huge horse’s hooves as they struck the ground. But behind me I could feel Laish waiting, biding his time. Getting ready to do whatever he wanted to me.
The thing that worried me most wasn’t that I didn’t want him to touch me, however. No, what worried me was that I might not want him to stop.
Chapter Ten
Laish
We got to the river much more quickly than I had originally calculated, when I thought we would be journeying by foot. The Demon-steed was placid enough under my touch—it dared not be anything else—and I was almost tempted to keep it for the rest of our quest. I did not want it simply for the convenience but also because it forced my little witch into a closer proximity to me than I guessed she would normally come on her own.
Though she tried to sit stiff and straight, keeping her distance from me, she couldn’t manage it entirely. The horse’s swaying gait ensured that every so often she would be jostled back against me, her smooth, bare shoulders pressing against my chest.
Each time this happened, Gwendolyn rested against me a little bit longer before resuming her rigid posture. The feel of her soft, curving body against mine and her warm, feminine scent in my nose was intoxicating. I was sorely tempted to sweep her hair to one side and kiss the side of her neck. Or perhaps, to let one of my hands drift from the reins and slide up to caress her thigh.
I kept my impulses strictly in check, however. Gwendolyn still feared my touch and I didn’t want to feed that fear—though she would have to get over it soon enough.
In fact, the time was coming even sooner than I had calculated. The distance that would have taken at least a day on foot, was covered in a matter of hours on Yerx’s steed. Before I knew it, we were coming to the banks of the river Styx, its pitch black waters flowing sluggishly as tar.
“Whoa,” I said softly, pulling the horse up short as we came to the banks. Though I still entertained thoughts of keeping him, I was aware that it would be difficult to bring him through the terrain of several of the seven levels. Also, a beast his size was not exactly inconspicuous. Reluctantly, I decided that I should send him back.
I dismounted first and then held up my arms for Gwendolyn. I saw the little war that went on in her face as she looked at my outstretched arms. Part of her wanted to refuse my help as well as my touch but she was still frightened of being on the unfamiliar animal. I wondered what had happened to her to make her so afraid of horses. Just another mystery to add to my little witch’s past. I swore to myself I would solve all these riddles in time—then maybe I would be free of her spell over me, whatever it was.
“Come, Gwendolyn,” I said in a low, commanding voice. “Unless you’d rather dismount yourself.”
A stubborn look came into those bewitching green eyes.
“I think I can manage.” Lifting her chin, she began to clamber off the steed’s broad back.
I frowned. I admired her stubbornness and independence, but those two qualities might get her killed when we entered enemy territories. Perhaps a small lesson in obedience was in order.
I was still standing by the Demon-steed’s head and a quick tug of the reins caused it to stamp and snort, shifting its considerable weight to one side.
Gwendolyn gave a little shriek and tumbled off—right into my waiting arms.
“Careful, mon ange,” I murmured, pulling her close to my chest. I savored the feel of her lush body pressed against mine as I held her. Gods, she was the most tempting little creature! I wanted her badly—much more than I should. I knew many of my kind would have simply taken what they wanted by force but I did not relish such encounters. I preferred to bring her to me slowly, step-by-step—although if the way she was struggling against me was any indication, she had other plans.
“Let me go!” she demanded. “You did that on purpose.”
“Perhaps.” I set her on her feet at last and she straightened the red silk dress I had chosen for her. It clung to her beautifully, outlining her full breasts and the taut little points of her nipples as well as the rounded curves of her ass and hips. Truly, she was lovely. Especially when her eyes bright with irritation and her cheeks were flushed with anger as they were now.
“You need to stop. I’m not putting up with your foolishness the whole way through Hell.” Gwendolyn straightened her dress with quick, angry motions. Then she crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding the tantalizing sight of her tight nipples pressing against the thin red silk. I wondered idly if she didn’t like the feel of my eyes on her—
or if it was her own reaction to our closeness that bothered her more.
The horse, which had been standing quietly on the banks of the Styx, chose that moment to lean over and investigate her hair with its nose.
“Oh my God!” Gwendolyn jumped toward me with a little gasp and wound up pressed against my chest. I put my arms around her obligingly and tried to smother a grin.
“He’s simply scenting you, mon ange,” I told her. “I think he likes you.”
“Well, I don’t like him.” Gwendolyn shivered and stepped away from me.
The horse nudged her again, snorting gently as it pressed its nose to the back of her neck.
“Cut that out!” she exclaimed, turning around.
“I’m telling you, he likes you,” I told her. “Here, give him this.”
Reaching into the air, I pulled out an apple—a rather large one as the steed was built to carry a twelve foot demon.
Reluctantly, Gwendolyn took the apple from my hand. “Really? You want me to feed him?”
“Really.” I nodded at the horse. “Go on—give it to him.”
I watched with interest as the horse lipped the apple from her palm and crunched it messily. Such animals were usually fed on living flesh—which I did not tell Gwendolyn—but this one seemed to have retained enough of its mortal ancestry to enjoy other things as well.
Gwendolyn asked for another apple, which I obligingly produced. As the horse ate it from her palm, she tentatively reached up and stroked its glossy black neck. She had to stand on her tiptoes since the animal was so massive but she did it without fear.
“Good boy,” I heard her murmur. “Are you a good boy?”
The horse snorted and nudged her again with its huge head—clearly Yerx’s massive Demon-steed was taken with my little witch.
I must confess I was impressed—not just by Gwendolyn’s mastery of her fear but by the fact that the horse came so quickly under her sway. It was the second animal from my realm which had shown itself partial to her. Cerberus, of course, was not to be trusted but he had surprised me in his attentions to the little witch. Could it be she had some power over the denizens of Hell? Or were they simply unable to resist her innate goodness, much as I was unable to resist myself?
Gwendolyn fed the horse several more apples and then I decided it was time to send him on his way back.
“Enough,” I told her, taking her by the arm to lead her a little ways away. “I must send him back to the Great Barrier now. Back to where he belongs.”
“What, so he can carry that nasty big demon around all day?” she protested. “No offense to your ‘friend’ but he must weigh a ton—literally! That can’t be good for the poor horse’s back!”
“I thought you didn’t like him,” I said dryly, eyeing the horse which was sidling up to us, trying to get close to Gwendolyn again.
“Well maybe I changed my mind,” she said defensively. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him and it would be a lot easier riding him than trudging through Hell on foot.”
“He’s a very noticeable steed,” I objected. “Riding him would draw unwanted attention and make it much easier for the Hellspawn to track us.”
“But that thing is already on my trail,” she objected. “And if we’re mounted on the horse when it finds us, I’m sure he could outrun it. We’ll actually have a better chance of getting away and staying safe if we keep him.”
I saw that she really wanted to keep the horse. Despite myself, I was charmed all over again by her courage. She loved and befriended even the most fearsome creatures—it made me hope, deep inside, that maybe she might find love in her heart for a monster like me as well. I could deny her nothing—still, I pretended to deliberate.
“Well…” I murmured, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Please, Laish?” She put a hand on my arm which I liked a lot—she hardly ever touched me voluntarily and I badly wanted her to.
“All right,” I said at last, taking her hand in mine. “If it means so much to you.”
“It does.” She squeezed my hand. “I don’t know why, but it does. Thank you, Laish.”
“You are welcome,” I said simply. “And now, if you can tear your attention away from your new pet long enough, I believe the ferry has arrived.”
Gwendolyn pulled her hand from mine and turned quickly, scanning the sluggish waters of the Styx.
Sure enough, a long, flat barge appeared out of the mist, coming slowly toward us. It was captained by a tall figure shrouded in tattered black rags. His face was hidden by a black hood but I had traversed the Styx often enough to know what he looked like beneath that ragged veil.
“Charon,” Gwendolyn breathed as the barge came to a halt, crunching against the pebbles of the shoreline. “So he is real.”
“Indeed,” I murmured. “Are you ready to cross, Gwendolyn? Few of the living ever have.”
“I’m ready,” she assured me. “I’ve got this.”
She dug around in her bag for a moment and then seemed to find what she was looking for. Stepping forward, she tried to hand something to the skeletal ferryman.
Charon simply shook his head.
“What?” Gwendolyn frowned. “What’s wrong? Why won’t he take it?” She held out her hand and I saw an antique silver piece in her small palm.
“You are not dead,” I explained. “Only the souls of the dead must pay for passage across the Styx. A living human may pass for free—as long as you are accompanied by a denizen of the realm.”
“Oh, all right.” She shrugged. “Should we bring the horse aboard first—what’s his name, anyway? Did your, uh, friend say?”
“This is the same steed Yerx rode through the campaigns we fought together,” I said. “As I recall, his name is Kurex.”
“Kurex, hmm? I like it.” Gwendolyn turned to the horse. “Here, boy. Here, Kurex.”
At the sound of his name the massive horse nodded his head and snorted. He trotted over to the little witch and nuzzled just behind her ear with his nose, blowing gently.
“Good boy.” Gwendolyn stroked the arching black neck again and I couldn’t help feeling jealous. Why was it so easy for her to trust anyone and anything but me?
“Give his reins to Charon,” I instructed her. “He will lead Kurex aboard the ferry.”
“And he’ll be okay?” She looked at me anxiously.
I nodded. “He will. He is used to traversing this river.”
“All right then, good.” Reaching up, she caught the black leather reins as though she’d been doing it for years and led the horse closer to the ferry. This time when she held out her hand, Charon reached for what she was handing him. I noticed that Gwendolyn was careful not to touch his skeletal fingers as she gave him the reins.
Kurex was loaded onto the flat barge-like ferry in short order and the only thing that remained was for Gwendolyn and myself to climb aboard. It seemed a simple thing and yet I knew it would be a problem. I considered warning my little witch of what was to come, but then I thought better of it. She would have to learn on her own or she would never believe me.
Gwendolyn was about to find out exactly what was required in order to pass from one circle of Hell to the next and I was certain it would not make her happy.
* * * * *
Gwendolyn
I know it sounds crazy considering my childhood trauma, but I was really getting fond of the elephant-sized horse. Maybe I just have a soft spot for animals but the way he nuzzled me with his nose and begged for more apples just melted me. I was a little worried he might nip my fingers with that huge mouth of his but he had been extremely careful, delicately lipping the huge apples Laish conjured for me out of my palm and crunching them with messy delight. And for my part, I found I really enjoyed feeding him.
I had never thought I would like a horse after my broken-collarbone incident but it occurred to me that maybe I had been too quick to judge. I was genuinely glad when Laish said we could take the big guy with us and not just becaus
e riding beat hoofing it—no pun intended—through Hell by a long shot. I still had the problem of the way the saddle rubbed me in the wrong (right?) way, but I would learn to deal with that, I promised myself. In the meantime, I was just glad we got to keep Kurex a little longer.
Once Charon (who was even creepier than I had ever imagined) had loaded him onto the flat, black ferry, the big horse stood quietly, watching me as though he was waiting for me to come aboard too.
“It’s okay, boy,” I told him. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
I really didn’t like the idea of getting on board that ferry—not just because I was pretty sure the only thing under those tattered black rags of Charon’s was an animated skeleton, either. I was also weirded out by the idea that the only people who crossed these black, tarry waters were already dead. Also, I’m not the best swimmer in the world and I didn’t like to think what might be in that black goo waiting to get me if I fell in.
Still, there was no other way to get to the second circle of Hell and time was wasting. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, meaning to place my foot on the ferry.
But I couldn’t.
Frowning, I tried again but with the same result. There was something in the way—some invisible barrier that I could feel but couldn’t get past.
I tried again, this time leaning forward with my upper body. Again, the invisible wall met me and kept me from stepping foot on the boat. I felt it in every direction, reaching up with my hands and pressing my palms to its smooth, invisible sides. It occurred to me that I must look like a mime—and not a very good one, either.
At last, I gave up on trying to find the edges of the wall and turned to Laish who was watching me quietly with absolutely no surprise on his chiseled features.
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “I thought you said I could ride for free since I’m not dead. Why can’t I get on board?”
“I never said you could cross for free, mon ange,” he rumbled. “Styx is the barrier between the first and second circle of Hell and you may not pass through to a new circle without first paying the toll.”
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