by Megan Cutler
“Lerissmos died two months after the rockslide at Emden,” Arimand said before the clan leader could speak. “I took his place.”
Thail's knees buckled. No one bothered to catch him. His head slid into his hands and he unleashed a low, keening wail. “Lerissmos is dead? If I'm here, he must be in Hell's deepest pit!”
Eselt silenced the man with a soft grunt and a wave of his hand. He circled the newcomer like a lion waiting for the right moment to pounce. He wouldn't be able to confirm Arimand's identity. He'd have to settle for confirming his story. “I want you to tell me about something that happened in Onroth,” he rumbled.
Thail opened his mouth to protest, but Eselt spoke over him. “I heard a story recently about a young soldier, crushed in a rockslide and carried home to the funeral pyre.”
Thail's pale eyes widened. “Only he wasn't dead.”
Eselt halted. “What did you say?”
“He wasn't dead,” Thail said with more confidence and a hint of excitement. “When the fire started to burn, he sat up. He was coughing a mad storm before the Healers came. They said he was a mage. That his magic kept him alive until it could make him better. It was like an old-time miracle.”
The Vorilia clan leader's eyes locked on Arimand's. “It's true,” he whispered.
“It's true,” Arimand agreed.
“Sulard, find some food for our guest. I may have a proposition for him later. Kimuli, recall the rest of our messengers. By nightfall, if possible. Wardel, I want the clan ready to depart first thing tomorrow morning.”
Eselt's lieutenants sat in stunned silence, staring at their leader until he clapped his hands and sent them scrambling. The three men nearly tripped over each other in their haste to fulfill the commands.
Before Arimand could slip away, Eselt seized his arm and hauled him toward Kaylie's tent. “We'll need to plan the first leg of the journey. Make sure the stores are overstocked…”
Arimand nearly fell flat on his face as Eselt propelled him through the tent flap without pausing to announce himself. Kaylie glanced up from her mending and Arimand cast her an apologetic look. His mind still reeled, trying to make sense of the last few minutes.
When Eselt realized what he'd done, he hung his head. “Please, forgive me, my lady, I didn't mean to barge in. But we've just confirmed Arimand's story!”
“I never doubted,” Kaylie replied primly, setting her sewing aside.
“The expedition will begin at dawn. My men will work around the clock, if necessary, to ensure speed and-”
“You've already spoken to every member of the clan?” Kaylie interrupted. “They all want to go?”
Eselt's jaw tightened. “I'm leader here. They'll go where I tell 'em to.”
Kaylie retrieved her sewing and set it on her lap. “I won't.”
“What do you mean?” Eselt scoffed.
“You heard me.” With slow, deliberate movements, she jabbed her needle through the cloth and pulled it out.
“Arimand said you wanted to go.”
“Arimand consented to taking the risk. I don't have to ask if you share his disposition. But I will not allow you to order the rest of the souls in this camp into greater damnation on my account. This journey will only move in one direction.” Her voice was hard and cold. “Every member of clan deserves to make this choice.”
“But we'll lose days! Do you have any idea how long it would take to get everyone to agree?”
Kaylie made several neat little stitches before she replied. “Those that don't wish to come can stay behind. They work for you because you provide them with a better afterlife than they'd have alone. But you don't own their souls, Eselt, and neither do I. I'm not entitled to their efforts, even if I'm not damned. You can lead the expedition however you want, but I won't agree to go unless everyone traveling with us is aware of the risks and wants to help.”
Eselt sputtered.
Arimand had never seen anyone other than Dwenba dare to speak to their clan leader that way. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. He didn't imagine he was back in the man's good graces just yet. Gently grasping Eselt's elbow, he pulled him toward the exit.
“Maybe it's for the best. Dwenba needs time to work her magic, and we don't know yet where we're going. If you want, I'll organize some kind of clan gathering this evening.”
Eselt stared at the tent flap, as if he were still contemplating a retort. “Yes, yes,” he said at last. “Do that. We may have all the time in the world. Then again, much like your soldier friend, we may not.”
Chapter Six: A Path to Follow
With every member of the clan crammed around the central fire, Vorilia looked much larger than usual. Even the children waited in eager silence to hear their leader's announcement.
Arimand stood in shadow at the far edge of the gathering. He had little personal stake in the proceedings. He would see Kaylie's spirit released from Hell no matter the cost, even if he had to go alone. He suspected Eselt felt the same.
His eyes scanned the crowd. How many would share their resolve? Dwenba stood at the front of the circle, her face ablaze in the firelight. The twist of her lips suggested a lengthy diatribe perched on the tip of her tongue, awaiting release.
Kimuli stood at the back of the inner circle, arms crossed in front of his chest. It didn't surprise Arimand to find Sulard beside him, one elbow propped against his smaller companion's shoulder. The taller man might have been murmuring something in Kimuli's ear, but it didn't seem to improve the hunter's sour mood.
Like himself, Wardel stood apart from the rest of the group. Arimand had never directly interacted with the man, but he seemed thoughtful, as if he knew what to expect. Beyond him, so deep in shadow Arimand almost missed him, stood the nervous, twitching Thail. His head darted back and forth, seeking hidden threats. Arimand wondered if the man's experience on the battlefield caused his anxiety or if his time in Hell had broken him. Had he yet divined what Eselt had in store for him?
The clan leader had gone to great lengths to ensure this meeting remained a clan affair. There had been a tight guard posted all day and Arimand suspected Eselt had already thoroughly discussed the matter with each of them. Now he clomped to the center of the circle and the crowd parted to make way. He hefted himself atop a crate situated just outside the fire's reach, putting his head slightly higher than the rest of the crowd.
“My fellow clansmen and women…” A hush fell over the gathered throng. “As many of you are already aware, we have sheltered and protected an innocent soul for some months now. After a long and difficult search, I've discovered a way to free her from this terrible fate. The lady calls us to answer; who among you will accompany her on her journey from Hell?”
A murmur passed through the crowd, heavy with disbelief.
“Who could guide us?” someone demanded.
Another voice rose from the crowd before Eselt could answer. “When do we leave?”
“What about the children?” Dwenba shouted over the growing chatter.
They weren't the questions Arimand expected. What would happen to those who fell behind? To those captured by demons? Or to the rest of the party when Kaylie departed?
I suppose we already know those answers.
Eselt waved his hands for silence.
“We will leave when all is prepared. We will take only those who wish to go. Soon, Clan Vorilia will be no more. But I will not leave any of you to flounder. We will find homes for everyone who stays behind, especially our treasured children.
“As to who will lead our expedition, I intend to.” He fixed his gaze on Arimand and the crowd swiveled in unison. “But Sir Arimand knows the way.”
When did I acquire a title? It was especially jarring when he recalled the look on Eselt's face when the two of them spoke earlier, shortly after Arimand reported the arrangement of this gathering.
”Don't forget who runs this clan,” the short man had growled, grabbing the collar of Arimand's shirt and hauling him clo
se. ”I'm in charge of this expedition, and I only intend to follow your advice if it makes sense. So you'd better find a way to present proof of your friend's claims along the way.”
The title was probably for show; he shouldn't expect to hear it often. Still, expectation fell heavy on his shoulders. Arimand didn't want to be the center of attention. He was no great leader; his damnation was proof of that. Yet his resolve didn't waver. He drew a deep breath and started forward. The crowd parted for him just as it had parted for their leader. He stopped next to the crate, turning a slow circle, meeting the eyes which stared back at him.
“Eselt speaks true. I know the path, but the journey will be perilous.”
The leader of the Vorilia Clan formed a fist and lifted it skyward. “Who will answer the lady's call?”
A great cheer split the night. Fists pumped the air in exultation, as if Eselt had promised the entire clan a way to escape. If there were dissenters among the crowd, none voiced their complaints. Dwenba stood silent among the revelers, though her expression didn't suggest displeasure.
Eselt leaned toward Arimand and spoke in an undertone. “This should prove our dedication.”
“Indeed,” Arimand murmured, stunned by the strength of the clan's response. He never imagined so many would willingly follow him into danger. “Shall I tell her?”
“Please. I don't want any more delays.”
Once more, the crowd parted for Arimand, though they looked at him strangely as he passed. A few hands reached for him, fingers momentarily brushing his arms and chest.
“Hear me,” Eselt's voice boomed behind him. “The lady wishes only the willing to accompany her. Tomorrow we will break camp and make for Port Dech on the River Phlegethon. Everyone will have the length of the crossing to make their decision. Until we part ways, things will continue as normal, though our goals will be different…”
His voice faded as Arimand entered Kaylie's tent. The guards didn't even challenge him. The lady waited just inside, her green eyes wide in the lantern light.
“It seems they have decided.”
Arimand offered her a thin, tired smile. “Have you changed your mind?”
She glanced toward the tent flap. A thin line of firelight fell through the gap between canvases. “There'll be no deterring them now. I never imagined so many would be willing to risk their eternity for me.”
“No one's going to force you to see this through, my la-”
“Just Kaylie.” She extended one freckle-speckled arm and drew the tent flap aside.
Eselt still stood on his crate, explaining the method by which the clan should approach him with their answers in the coming days. The crowd listened with rapt attention. Arimand could see the glint in every eye from here.
Kaylie let the flap fall closed. “For better or worse, our courses are set.”
~*~*~*~
Despite Eselt's convictions, there were delays. Dwenba found market opportunities they couldn't pass up and put her foot down. Arimand seconded her suggestions. Kaylie tried not to giggle at the veins protruding from Eselt's neck when he relented.
Refusing to lose more than one day, Eselt put everyone on double duty. Several clan members wished to remain in Blalt, which kept their leader busy. It wasn't that unusual for people to shift clans or take up residence at port, but Eselt needed to make a show of trying to keep them. In this case, to make certain they received beneficial arrangements. During his absence, Kaylie brazenly strode from her tent to assist with the workload. Between helping the clanswomen note and pack new inventory, she organized messages, assigning the camp children various tasks.
Eselt stalked over to the supply tent around mid-morning, just after Kaylie finished assigning a new round of messages to her eager young assistants. “What in blazes are you doing?” he growled, scowling up at her. “Anyone could see you. You know how dangerous outsiders are.”
Kaylie snorted. “With everyone scurrying about like chickens escaped from the coop, no one's going to notice me.”
Eselt crossed his arms, preparing for a fight. With amusement, Kaylie noticed the thick veins protruding from his neck again.
“These things aren't your concern. Go rest in the shade and let us take care of everything.”
“Nonsense. You don't have spare hands to waste. Did you think I would sit in my tent for the next several weeks while everyone else works their fingers to the bone on my account? It's about time I earned my keep around here.”
When Eselt opened his mouth to protest she added, “Don't worry, I'll scream my loudest and highest-pitch if a stranger so much as looks at me askance.”
She managed to keep a smirk off her face when Eselt narrowed his eyes. Barely. He threw his arms in the air when he relented, disappearing between the crooked rows of tents.
As the day wore on, farewells were spoken. Crates were loaded and lashed to the backs of rickety carts. Kaylie helped prepare dinner, retreating to her tent only when the first chill winds began to howl.
Shortly after a child retrieved her empty bowl, Eselt poked his head through the entrance flap. “We're about to discuss the route to the exit, my lady, would you like to participate?”
She nodded. She expected only Eselt and Arimand to enter, but several others followed in their wake. Kaylie retreated to her cot to make more space. Eselt gratefully flopped into the armchair, sinking into the tattered padding.
Arimand held the flap open for the rest, whom Kaylie recognized only from conversations overheard by the fire. Sulard strode straight to the center of the room and claimed the rug. Kimuli joined him, prodding the taller man until he yielded several extra inches. The newcomer, Thail, scurried through the door like a rat looking for a place to hide. He knelt beside the armchair, one leg raised, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Wardel was the last to enter. He chose to stand just outside the circle formed by the rest.
These were Eselt's trusted advisors. The men who organized hunting parties and enforced his orders. Of course Arimand joined them the moment Thail confirmed his story, but she was surprised to find the stranger among their ranks.
When everyone settled, Arimand abandoned the tent flap to complete the circle. Using a stunted stick, he drew a series of seven concentric circles in the dust on the floor. Everyone leaned forward to watch, casting long shadows in the lantern light.
“When Dwenba and I finished at market, I spent the day chatting with members of the clan. Combined with the information my former companion gave me, I think I have a pretty good idea of Hell's layout.”
“We'll start with the rivers.” He drew a large X across all seven circles. He labeled one with an S and the other with a P. He placed a smaller x where the S line ran through Hell's outer circle.
“This is us, at Blalt, on the Styx. We know the Acheron runs around the outside of Ethilirotha, which isn't of concern except that its water will become less accessible the deeper into Hell we travel.” He drew a final ring around the others and labeled it with an A.
“The next river is the Cocytus, which sits between the third and fourth circles of Hell. At least we think it does, based on the legends. We'll have to cross it, at some point, and we should probably plan to drink from it. I imagine its magic isn't much different from the Acheron's. Sorrow, lamentation, it's all the same.” He thickened the line between the third and fourth circles and labeled it with a C.
“Aside from the Phlegethon, we shouldn't have to worry about the rest. Legend says the river Lethe flows between the sixth ring and Hell's center, but only demons dwell there. Besides, the Lethe can only be crossed by the King of Hell's grace. The source of the Styx is said to lie beneath the King of Hell's manor, Chelal Ogdul, but since we can't risk being tainted by its touch, it doesn't much matter.”
“Is that why we're headed to Phlegethon?” Wardel interrupted.
“Eselt and I discussed this before the meeting. Distances in Hell are vast and we need to cross three full circles. It will take forever to reach the exit if we travel by
foot.”
“And we wouldn't be able to defend ourselves,” Eselt added. “I've heard rumors of the city. There'd be no safe passage if we had to cut our way through the streets.”
“But why Phlegethon?” Kimuli demanded. “The damn river is on fire.”
“Would you rather lose your mind?” Eselt countered. “One splash from the Styx and we'd all forget what we were trying to do.”
“We wouldn't get far,” Wardel agreed.
Kimuli turned his head and spat. Several sharp glances cut his way and he seemed to realize what he'd done, scrubbing at the wet mark with one sandal. “How are we going to navigate a river that burns?” he grumbled, voice dripping disdain. “I'd rather lose my mind than burn to a crisp.”
Kaylie shuddered. If a damned soul fell into the flaming river, would they burn forever? Bodies in the afterlife seemed designed to endure far more punishment than their mortal counterparts. But surely there was a limit?
“All we need is the right kind of boat,” Wardel reassured with quiet confidence. “Let me worry about that.”
“We are going to need a lot of wood.” Eselt stroked his scraggly beard. “Make sure everyone keeps an eye out while we travel. If we minimize our fires during the crossing, we'll have a considerable stockpile by the time we arrive.”
“I'm sure Dwenba will be pleased.” Sulard grinned.
“She ain't in charge,” Eselt huffed.
As silence fell, all eyes returned to Arimand. He prodded the fourth ring of his drawing before marking it with a V. “Our destination lies in the fourth circle. Vankorin. Vankorin over Mavakorin if we want to be precise. The trapped lands over the pits. Based on the story my companion told me, the surface of that ring is empty. The demons and the damned dwell below. But almost every inch of the surface is laden with traps. It will be, by far, the most dangerous portion of the journey.”
“What kind of traps should we expect?” Wardel asked.
Arimand shook his head and lifted both hands, palms turned upward. “I'm not sure. My informant didn't elaborate and, at the time, it seemed inappropriate to prod. According to legend, they're designed to funnel souls to the pits beneath, but the books I studied didn't give many details.”