Amorlia

by Chris Wichtendahl

  The Third Hell

  Artemis leaned against the broken remnants of a brick wall, panting. Her arms ached from swinging her sword and throwing her blades. She held all three blades fanned out in her left hand while gripping her sword in her right. She wiped a bit of blood off her chin with her torn sleeve, though the cut on her lip had already healed. Cautiously, she looked around the crumbling wall. She appeared to be in the ruins of a city, though it was no kind of city she’d ever seen before. The air was a sinister dark red, which cast everything in a bloody glow. Screams and moans filled the air, following her as she ran, and everywhere was that vile scent. The gang of rapists she fled rounded the corner. Somehow, they had grown in number. Each had his own large spider demon feeding hungrily on their sin. “Pretty pretty!” the leader called out, “Come and play, little pretty!” When she did not respond, his voice grew even more harsh, “You cut my head off, bitch! Do you know how hard it is to find your own head, let alone put it back on?!” Artemis braced herself for another fight. She’d been fighting this gang, and a few others, since she came to this Hell. She hadn’t even had the time to look for the door, as she was spending all her time dodging rapists and murderers. She heaved a weary sigh as she realized she was only halfway through her journey. If things were this bad in the Third Hell, how in the world was she going to get through the Sixth? “Pssst!” a voice hissed from the other side of the wall, “In here! Quickly!” Artemis squeezed her eyes shut tight. Another “helpful” stranger. She put her hand over her chest, feeling the hard edges of the Passage Crystal under her gown. She would be happy to finally return from this journey, if only to be rid of this thing that everyone wanted. Still, she could use a respite from the chase, and she did still need to find the door. She moved quietly around the edge of the wall, to the exposed “interior” of the ruined building. A woman sat in a torn and stained armchair, her gaze fixed on the flickering images on a strange box attached to the wall by a long thin wire. Her clothes were in tatters, and a trail of welts and bruises covered her body. She shivered, though the temperature was warm to the point of stifling. An ape-sized spider demon hung onto her back, its mouth buried in the base of her skull. As Artemis approached, she could see that the demon’s eight legs were embedded in the flesh of her body. It pulled its head free and looked at Artemis as she approached. Its face was the most human of any of the demons Artemis had seen, though it still had the round leech mouth filled with sharp teeth. It hissed before it spoke. “Hello, meat,” it said softly, “do not think this one will protect you. She has watched your battles with the other Damned souls, and seeks your protection instead.” “Shh,” the woman mumbled, staring at the flickering screen, “my show is on.” The demon laughed before returning to the base of her skull. Artemis came to stand next to the chair, trying to ignore the crunching and slurping sounds. “I am-” she began to introduce herself, but the woman interrupted. “Artemis, Princess of Vega,” the woman said, her voice a monotone slur, “on a quest to rescue her true love from the villainous Queen of the Underworld.” “How do you know?” Artemis asked. None of the other damned souls had know who she was. “I’ve been watching you,” the woman replied, lazily gesturing at the strange box, “on TV.” “Tee... vee?” Artemis repeated the odd phrase, “What is-” “Doesn’t matter,” the woman said, eyes still focused on the box. “Now you’re here, you can protect me from the gangs. They have at me once a day at least. I can escape them for a while in here, but eventually they find me. If not for TV and my medicine, I don’t know that I could bear it.” The demon reared its head again with a laugh. “Oh, you’d bear it. You’d bear it because you have no choice.” It looked up at Artemis, “This one killed her babies. She wanted to run off with the husband of her best friend, but felt tied to the needs of her children.” “Don’t...” the woman whispered. “Shut up,” the demon advised her, then said to Artemis, “She smothered her little babies, five years and two years they were, then threw their bodies in the woods and blamed it on a drifter! Her man didn’t want her after that, so she killed him too. Then her best friend. Then she just started killing for fun.” It cackled and resumed eating. “Doesn’t matter,” the woman muttered. She pulled a syringe from under her tattered rags. It contained a viscous greenish-brown fluid and what looked like hundreds of tiny insects. A thick cord encircled her upper arm, and the woman took one end of the cord in her teeth, pulling it tight. She drove the syringe in a vein and pushed the plunger. Blood seeped from the corners of her tightly closed eyes as the contents of the syringe filled her arm. “Nnnnngg... ooohhhhh,” she sighed and smiled. Her head lolled against the back of the chair, the cord fell from her slack mouth. She offered the syringe to Artemis, looking up at the princess through half-lidded eyes. “Medicine,” she murmured, smiling, “Feels good. If you can’t protect... makes what’s coming... easier...” Artemis shook her head and backed away. The woman had already gone back to staring at the box. The screams and moans became louder, the smell more overpowering. Artemis turned... And the gang was there. “Pretty pretty,” the leader cooed. To the others, he said, “You lot start with that one,” he pointed to the damned woman in the armchair, who barely even noticed the men were there. Artemis swung her left arm and let fly the blades, taking the heads of three of the men. They returned to her hand and she threw them again, beheading the others. Only the leader stood before her, and she beat him soundly with her sword before catching the blades. The headless men wandered about, seeking their heads, their demons wailing from the loss. The sound of the demons’ cries cut across Artemis’ soul like jagged glass. She had to get out. While her tormentors writhed and scrambled about, she took a moment to reach out with her new senses, looking for the door. She found it, though to reach it she would need to cross this entire broken city of the damned. She returned the blades to their pouch and the sword to her belt, and began to run. Moments later, a new voice joined the omnipresent screams of this Hell and she knew the gang would be after her again. As she ran through the shattered city, other damned souls lurched from the shadows, some to attack, others to beg for defense. She ignored them all, even knocking them aside if they tried to slow her progress. Finally, she reached the door. It was made from strips of bloody flesh stitched together with barbed wire. The handle was a living hand that gripped hers as she opened the door. The moaning scream of the hinges joined the keen of the Third Hell and she leaped through the open door... ...into a maelstrom of terror and pain.

  The Fourth Hell

  Artemis sat, knees up to her chin, and shivered. Her sword and blades lay next to her, unused. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and buried her face in her knees. “It’s just the dark it can’t hurt me, it’s just the dark it can’t hurt me,” she chanted to herself over and over. She heard a thump, then a loud clank and a scream, and she closed her eyes tighter. She couldn’t see anything in the pitch darkness of her surroundings, and a terror she hadn’t felt since childhood gripped her heart like a vise. “I’m a big girl,” she tried to chant through sobs, “th-there’s n- nothing... to be...” “Ssssssooooo much hssssss...” a horrible whisper surrounded her, “Sssssoooo much to be afraid of hssssss...” Artemis felt something slither over her leg and she screamed. Snakes frightened her almost as much as the dark. A tiny voice in the back of her mind complained that she had not been frightened of snakes nor darkness for many years. She wanted to listen to that voice, but the rising terror began to drown it out. All she could think about was wanting to go home. She also wanted her father very badly. A sinister laugh echoed through the darkness and the cold slithering thing began to crawl all over her. She struggled to escape. Her hand brushed her sword, sending a jolt through her body which caused her birthmark to flare. Her fear was gone, and she grabbed hold of her sword. The darkness cleared and she found her blades. She held them ready and stood, kicking the snake off her foot. Her fear began to burn away as she looked around. She was in a small cell with featureless white walls. She dropped the blades into their pouch and
kept her sword ready. A heavy door swung open, leading her out into a long hallway. The hall was lined with doors identical to the one she’d left. She stood before the one next to hers and looked through the tiny window. A woman sat inside, screaming in horror. “How did you get out?” She turned toward the voice, and saw a man. He bore an extremely ugly monkey on his back. The monkey was roughly the size of a small child, and held on to the man with long sharp claws. It chewed on his neck with razor sharp teeth. The man wore a uniform, and Artemis assumed he was some sort of guard. “Answer my question,” he said, “how did you get out?” “Um,” she looked around, still disoriented by the lingering vestiges of her fear, “I just, uh, walked out?” “Oh, we’ve got a cheeky one here, we do,” the guard said to his demon. The demon paused in its feeding to laugh. “Just shove the meat into another cell and be done with it.” The man stepped forward, then back, cringing a bit. “I... I don’t want to,” he looked around, as though trying to find someone. The monkey demon mocked its host, “Aww,” it said, “what’s wrong? Hmm? If you can’t do the job, you can go back in the cells yourself.” “No!” the man shouted, “No, I-I-I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” He glanced nervously at Artemis, “Come on,” he said. Artemis shrugged. Not having any better ideas, she followed. She did so warily, and kept her grip on her sword. “Where are we?” she asked as they walked. The man did not answer, but his demon turned to Artemis, blood dripping off its chin, “This is the Fourth Hell, meat,” it said, “In these cells, those who lived by the rule of fear face their own for all eternity. Tyrants, politicians, fearmongers, corrupt healers, controlling spouses and parents... anyone who used fear to increase their own power is here. This one,” it indicated its host, “must think you were sent to torment him. He used fear to maintain a hold over three different wives. He kept one so terrified, she didn’t leave their house for nearly a decade.” “So, what is he afraid of?” The monkey demon laughed, “Isn’t it obvious?” it winked before returning to its meal. Artemis studied the guard, “It’s women, right?” she asked, “You’re afraid of women?” “What I fear is none of your concern,” the damned soul spat at her, “it’s your own fear you’ll be facing. Ah,” he stopped, “here we are.” Before Artemis could react, he shoved her through an open cell door and slammed it shut. She heard the lock slide closed as she stood. It did not become dark, and there were no snakes. She wondered what- “Artemis,” a familiar voice spoke to her, “it is time to let him go.” She turned around and saw Father Jorrin looking at her, a sad expression on his face. Her surroundings had changed as well. She recognized the master study at the Solarian monastery. “Father Jorrin?” she was confused, “How did... where...” Something was wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what. The old priest lay a comforting hand on her arm. “We will all miss him, child, and you did the best you could, but his soul is lost. There is nothing that will cause him to wake.” He wiped away a tear, “We must let him go.” And then she was by Kael’s side. Her love lay on a long marble slab, his skin dry and grey, his muscles atrophied, his breathing shallow and labored. She began to cry. He would never wake, she had failed, he would- “Artemis?” She turned and saw Kael standing in the doorway, healthy and fit. He looked on her with pity, and a mild irritation. “Artemis,” he said, “I did not mean to interrupt, but I-” “Oh, Kael!” She ran to him, throwing her arms around him, “I’ve missed you so much! You have no idea what I-” “Artemis,” Kael pulled her off him and pushed her to arms’ length, “what are you doing?” “But,” she was confused now, “but you were... and I...” Kael sighed, his impatience clear, “We’ve been over this. I marry another tomorrow. I had hoped you would attend, to wish me well, but I can see now that you-” “Nice try,” Artemis said with a wry smile. She turned and shouted at the ceiling, “Nice try! But I conquered this fear too! What else do you have?!” “Artemis...” She turned, and Pym hung from the wall, pinned there by spears and arrows, his blood pooling under his dangling feet, “You dragged me into your war and it killed me, Artemis. You killed me.” Artemis laughed, and the scene dissolved, leaving her once again in the bare cell. “That is the best you can do?” she called out, “you will have to try harder! I am the Daughter of the Moon. I have defeated my Shadow. I know myself. My fears have no power over me!” She looked at the door to her cell. It was the same red door she’d been seeing throughout the Hells, only this one was covered in a single piece of bloody human flesh, stretched over the door and nailed to it by rusted metal spikes. The handle was the shrunken head of a human fetus. She approached the door, feeling strangely optimistic. This Hell had not been quite so bad as the others. Perhaps it was her prior victory over her Shadow, or she was finally coming into her new powers, but she opened the door to the Fifth Hell with renewed confidence. Therefore, she was completely unprepared for what happened next.

  The Fifth Hell

  A low whistle sounded and grew steadily louder until the ground next to Artemis exploded in a shower of rock and dirt. She was thrown to the side and fell into a shallow hole. A soldier looked down at her briefly, and fired out the top of the hole. She sat up slowly, rubbing her head. “What was that?” she asked. “Artillery,” the soldier grunted, “Bastards know they’re beaten, they just don’t want to admit it.” Artemis looked over at him, and noticed something strange. “You have no demon,” she gasped. The soldier laughed, “Haven’t for a very long time now. Whatever demon may have been mine is over there, struggling to keep us here.” Artemis raised an eyebrow. “We’re at war, darlin’,” he drawled, “This Hell is for soldiers and leaders, those that waged war in the most horrific ways. For myself,” he squared his shoulders with pride, “I put the torch to an entire village, just to watch ‘em burn. I knew there weren’t any enemy soldiers hiding in it, I just wanted to leave a message.” He laughed again, “And let me tell you, there’s nothing like a burned-out village and charred corpses of women and children to send the right message to your enemy.” His eyes narrowed and he glared at Artemis, “Speaking of enemies,” he growled, “who’s side are you on in this war?” She glared back at him. “Mine,” she said. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and roughly grabbed her arm, shoving a pistol in her ribs, “That’s the wrong answer. You’ll come along with me to meet the Leader.” He led her through a large armed camp. The uniformed souls of the damned walked or sat about, some cleaning their weapons, some taking their leisure. In some places, soldiers coupled openly, as there were many women among the ranks. She also saw scenes of terrible depravity. Soldiers wore necklaces of demons’ teeth, eyes and ears. One group had captured a demon warrior and tortured it as a game. They laughed and lay bets on who could inflict the most pain without killing it. The demon wailed and looked up as she passed. “Meat!” It cried out, “Save me, meat! I’ll make it worth your while! We know what you’re after! We can ease your passaaaaAARRRGGHHHH!” A damned soldier had driven a hot coal into its eye, laughing as she collected her winnings. The soldier who led Artemis through the camp eyed her warily. “One of the living,” he observed, “and the demons think they can help you. Help you with what?” A stony silence was his only answer. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged, “the Leader will get it out of you. There’s none can keep a secret if the Leader wants to hear it.” They walked a little further, finally coming to a large black tent. Two guards stood at rigid attention when the soldier and Artemis approached. “I’ve a prisoner to bring before the Leader,” he told them. “Leave it here,” they ordered, “we’ll get it to him.” They took turns leering at Artemis, one even licking his lips. “Hey,” the soldier pulled her closer to him, “you’ll get your piece once the Leader’s done with her,” he grinned maliciously, “and once I’ve had a go, of course.” “What’s going on out there?” a voice called from inside the tent. “Prisoner to see you, sir,” a guard answered, “a woman.” “Let her in.” The guard lifted the flap, and Artemis walked inside. The soldier that had captured her was barred from entry. She ignored the argument that flared up behind her, focusing
instead on the man before her. He was short, balding and paunchy. His features were bland in their ugliness, though he made attempts at distinction with a thick mustache. It didn’t work. “So,” he said, not looking up from the papers on his desk, “you are a spy for the demons.” “No.” He looked up at her, tired eyes blinking, “You are not one of mine,” he said. “Thankfully.” “Mm. It says here,” he flipped through some papers, “that you are living. Is this true?” Artemis nodded, not even wondering how he could have a file on her when she’d only just been captured. She’d given up wondering about a lot on this journey. “What business does one of the living have in Hell?” he asked her, attempting to look intimidating. He failed. “My own,” she answered. “Now I have a question, why are you at war with the demons of this Hell?” The Leader laughed, “Why? Because war is all any of us know. When I came here, the souls of this Hell were being pit against one another in pointless conflict, to serve the amusement of our jailers.” “So you rallied the Damned to you and rebelled.” “Of course I did. I do not fight for anyone’s pleasure, man or demon,” he sniffed, “I am the Leader.” “Right,” she said. “The soldier said the demons were struggling to keep you where you are. I take it the war goes well?” “Quite,” the Leader bragged, “This entire Hell is ours. The demons have retreated to the door to the Sixth Hell. They mean to keep us from it at all costs.” The mention of the door gave Artemis pause. If it were a point of contention in this war, that would make it harder to get to. She asked the Leader why they wanted it so badly. “Because the Sixth Hell is the one that matters,” he said. “It is where Hell’s royalty dwell, where all the business of the Damned is administered. If we could take the Sixth, we would control them all.” She nodded, smiling sensually, “I see,” she said. She moved closer, taking care to swing her hips a bit more than usual. She leaned over the desk, letting her gown fall open slightly. “I have need of the door myself,” she said softly, sliding closer to him. The Leader failed to look away from the glimpse he was getting of her breasts. “Am I correct in assuming you propose an alliance?” he stammered nervously. “No,” Artemis said, brandishing one of her blades, “I’m afraid you are quite mistaken.” The Leader looked up just in time to have his head sliced from his shoulders. Finding passage through the camp was rather easy after that. The Leader had created something of a personality cult around himself. The common soldiery worshipped him, and even his officers were lost without his leadership. The promise of his head’s safe return was enough to make the damned give her a wide berth. “And you will return me once you reach the edge of camp, right?” The Leader was very nervous. Like most of his type, he was a coward, and once stripped of power, he fell to whimpering. “Of course I will,” Artemis promised sweetly. It was a promise she did not keep. Upon reaching the outskirts of the demons’ camp, she produced the head for the sentries to see. The demons of this Hell were squat and brutish, man-like creatures. They grunted and laughed at the sight of their adversary’s head. “Tell your commander I come to parley,” Artemis said, steel in her voice and her eyes, “I will give him the ultimate bargaining token, and in exchange I will be granted full passage through the door.” The sentries grunted again, nodding and laughing as they led her to their commander. It stood slightly taller than its subordinates, though not much. It agreed to lead her to the door in exchange for the Leader’s head. The army of the damned would agree to any terms to get it back, including unconditional surrender. When she arrived at the door, she was startled by its appearance. It was red, but it was the deep red of stained wood. The handle was made of perfectly cut crystal, and it made no sound when opened. She tossed the head back to the demon commander and stepped through to the Sixth and final Hell. ****** She sat at one end of a long formal dining table. She wore a long tight black dress, and had diamonds in her beautifully coiffed hair and around her neck. A liveried servant set a plate before her and refilled her glass. On the plate was a collection of eyes, two hearts and a brain. She took a sip from her glass, rolling the blood around on her tongue before swallowing. She speared an eye with her fork and put it in her mouth, luxuriating in the exquisite taste. “Is everything to your liking, my dear?” a tall, handsome and elegant demon asked from the other end of the table. He had long blond hair that fell past his shoulders, and was dressed in the latest finery. Candlelight gleamed off the polished points of his teeth as he raised his glass to her, who raised her own to him. “Everything is delightful, my husband,” she said, returning his smile.