by Langland, J.
"Then why eat?"
"I don't know. Habit I guess."
"Wasteful habit. Demons don't need to eat. We get enough energy from the heat in the air around us. Course, we can if we want to. Munching a little wizard or two for breakfast is always a fun thing to do." He took a deep pull on his pipe and grinned at Tom.
"No thanks. I suppose I should try and fly again," Tom said doubtfully.
"Just try short, low level flights at first. It's a lot easier."
"I guess," Tom said, not really wanting to, but knowing that he'd better learn, if he was going to be in this psychotic state for long. Or was it neurotic? He was definitely aware he wasn't perceiving things quite right anymore, did that make it neurotic? or did the fact that he was having hallucinations automatically mean he was psychotic. His stepfather had been a clinical psychologist, andTom had often visited his office and talked to him about different types of crazy people. It was quite different being one of the crazies now.
However, Tom just thought, I fell asleep and I still seem to be here. Everything seems to make sense and is rationally connected, assuming one can accept the premise of a demon plane and a bunch of wizards kidnapping stoned kids from parties. Now, am I actually out of my mind or really here? Tom had read enough fantasy novels to know that the major characters, who were transported to fantasy realms, often spent a great deal of time disbelieving in the world around them, and therefore managed to get into a lot of trouble.
So, thought Tom, would it be better to disbelieve in this place and say this is all a dream and possibly get into a lot of trouble, if it's real; or do I accept that everything is real, and risk falling even deeper into my personal insanity? Reeling from the weight of thoughts he had never expected to have to face in real life, Tom giddily began to wonder if there was actually any way that he could determine if his whole past life had been a dream and that he was now awake.
No, he thought, pulling himself together suddenly, Boggy assured me that I had lived somewhere else as a normal person, thus this is either a new place, or a dream, and my past definitely real regardless of the situation.
"Hey, are you going to fly or not?" Tizzy interrupted his thoughts suddenly. He quickly realized he had just been standing there going around in mental circles while Tizzy waited on him to start trying to fly.
"Well how do I start?" Tom asked. Since, Tom rationalized, anything based on a false assumption was true, then if he was crazy and this world a dream, then anything he did was correct, so it couldn't hurt to believe; whereas, if this world was true, it could be very dangerous to disbelieve. He decided, therefore to accept his situation as real, until more convincing proof became evident later.
"Simply relax and start walking. As you walk think about walking upward at the same time, think of gaining altitude. Once you start rising, you can stop your legs, but just continue to pretend you're walking. For you it should be easy. Me, well I had to get used to my extra legs as well."
Refusing to simply say, `right,' or `yeah,' or `OK,' again, Tom simply did as he was instructed. He began walking towards the mountains. As he walked he pretended he was also climbing stairs. Shortly, he could no longer feel his legs touching ground, so he looked down. He was walking about ten feet above the ground. Tom was so pleased by the easiness of flight, that again his wings started to falter. This time however, he quickly looked forward, and tried putting all thoughts but those of walking forward out of his head. It worked, he started going forward again, he wasn't gaining altitude, but he wasn't losing it either. Once again he began to think of rising, and once again, he did. He simply couldn't stop being amazed at how easy this flying was, if one didn't think about it.
"Good job, good job," Tizzy said as he flew up beside him. "We've only got fifty kilometers to the mountains.”
"What!" Tom said as he stopped and turned to face Tizzy in midair, then promptly fell.
Actually, it wasn't quite as bad as it had sounded at first. As Tizzy showed him, once he managed to get airborne again, demons could fly considerably faster than a normal man could walk. In fact, the mighty wing muscles of a demon, combined with their not quite material state, allowed them to fly, as Tizzy explained, much faster than a horse could run. As they picked up speed, Tom conservatively estimated their velocity to reach about thirty-five miles an hour, or about fifty-six kilometers per hour. Which, since Tom had no way of judging time, meant that it took them only about an hour to reach the base of the mountain range.
Tizzy was an interesting companion on the flight, since he would fly ahead, then fall behind, dash right and dash left and occasionally come alongside with an obscure comment on some of the local geography. All in all he found Tizzy to be good at keeping his mind off their altitude, and his as yet unresolved questions about his own sanity. In fact, he was somewhat relieved to note that if he was crazy, then Tizzy was crazier.
The river Styx, when they passed over it, was quite impressive. It seemed to wind from horizon to horizon across their path, and was located about halfway between the mountains and where he had landed. The river was black, darker than any river he had ever seen on Earth, and much wider. The river had to be several miles wide, he imagined that the Mississippi was probably about the same width, but he had never seen it, except from thirty-thousand feet in an airplane. It was also quite violent, which puzzled Tom, he had always expected really wide rivers to be fairly calm, but this one certainly didn't seem to be. It seemed to be as turbulent and violent as a white water river, like the ones that raft trips were taken on. However, there didn't seem to be any actual `white' water in the Styx, even the foam was a black color. Perhaps there were some silvery streaks on the crests of the waves, but he couldn't be sure from one hundred feet above. The river also seemed to be slightly out of focus for some reason, and this didn't help matters any. He was unable to see any boatmen on the river, and he couldn't see how any boat could traverse that river.
Tom had, after the first fifteen to twenty minutes of flight, gained enough confidence to fly higher above the land. As Tizzy pointed out, a fall certainly couldn't kill him, it could only hurt him; however, Tom greatly desired to keep his requisite pain to a minimum, so he kept his altitude at about one hundred feet. He had to admit there was some beauty in this `hellish' land. Not normal beauty, but a grim, impressive beauty, in the huge desert and towering pillars. The streams of lava, highlighted everything and the arcing flames and immense fireballs, seemed to punctuate the majesty of the view below him.
His most treacherous moment in the flight occurred when one of the great fireballs all of the sudden ignited right in front of him. He had simply been flying along, when all of the sudden he saw a small light in front of him, and then there was this roaring fireball. As if he was walking, he sprang back, out of the way of the fireball, and stood there an arm’s length away from its edge.
He could feel the heat on his face and chest and he realized that it had to be incredibly hot, but he felt only mild discomfort from the intense blaze. In all, the fireball must only have lasted a few seconds; however, it seemed to go on for several minutes. Only after the ball had shrunk back to a small flame and then out of sight, did Tom realize that he was hovering in midair. He hadn't fallen; maybe, just maybe, he'd finally be able to get the hang of this flying business.
Eventually they did reach the base of the mountains. "Here we are!" Tizzy exclaimed. "We actually made it, and you still have all your parts."
Tom looked speculatively over at Tizzy, wondering for a moment about the demon's comment, and wondering how much of the confidence he had seemed to show in Tom had simply been faked. "So where do I go from here?" Tom asked.
"Why anywhere you want to live."
"Just go pick out a cave, anywhere?"
"Well, any uninhabited cave.'
"How do I tell which ones have demons in them?"
"Easy, every demon makes his personal mark above the entrance to his cave, just don't go in any marked ones."
"How man
y caves have demons in them?"
"Oh, I don't know, not all, certainly not even most of them."
"Well, I guess I'd better start looking," Tom said, not knowing really where to look, since he couldn't see any caves at the moment.
"The best ones are over there." Tizzy pointed beyond the first layer of mountains, deeper into the range.
"Very well, I guess I'll start looking."
"Yes, I always say..." Tizzy's voice drifted off a little as he seemed to look off into space for a moment, puffing on his pipe. "Sorry, gotta go." With that, the small octopodal demon vanished into thin air.
"Hmm, guess I'm on my own." Tom said. He supposed Tizzy had just been called off to see his `accursed master.' Tom flew up higher in the air so that he could pass over the mountains. The mountain range seemed, like the river, to be larger and more imposing than any he had seen on Earth. The mountains were all jagged, torn and extremely rocky. None of the close ones had snow, which was to be expected if the temperature was two hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It did appear, however, that some of the more distant mountains did have white on them. Thinking back on what little geography and geology he'd had, Tom guessed that those mountains would have to be incredibly high for the temperature to drop from two hundred degrees to the point where snow could exist.
He was now flying over the first mountains. He was higher than he'd been, since any time after he fell off the pillar. He guessed he was still not as high up as the pillar had been, but this mountain had to be at least nine thousand feet high. He guessed this by the time it took him to fly to the top, based on what he estimated his speed to be, about twenty miles per hour. If this mountain was nine thousand feet, then some of those further in had to be twenty thousand feet high, and those snowcapped ones would have to be higher than Mount Everest.
He tore his eyes off the distant mountains, and began scanning the valley below him, now that he had passed the tops of the first mountains. Occasionally, he spotted what appeared to be dark spots on the sides of mountains. The first one he saw, he swooped towards, and saw that it indeed was a cave, this one had some sort of strange circled `Y' engraved above its entrance. Apparently, it was occupied. He continued on, when he saw a cave that was situated in what looked like a convenient location he would swoop down on it, to see if it was marked.
To his dismay most of the caves that he examined in the first few valleys were marked, or else they were extremely shallow. So he flew on, he had searched for what felt like several hours, when he spotted a large cave near the top of an extremely high peak. He flew up on it in a sweeping arc, the more he flew, the more impressive looking tricks he learned.
This cave was definitely large. At the mouth of the cave was a fairly large overhang of rough stone. The mouth itself was about twenty feet in diameter, and as far as he could see, extended a long way into the mountain and down. The cave seemed to be inaccessible, except by flight, since below the overhang, the gray rock of the mountain dropped drastically downward for well over a thousand feet. The best thing about this cave, however, was the fact that Tom was unable to detect any markings around the cave mouth indicating that the cave was occupied.
What a stroke of luck, Tom thought. He landed on the ledge and turned to look out over the valley. Looking back the way he came, he was amazed to note that he could no longer see the plains. Apparently, he'd flown a lot further than he had thought. True, his wing muscles were a bit fatigued, but nowhere near being exhausted. "I guess one just has to go to the ends of the world to find a good home these days," Tom said to himself.
As he looked over the valley he noted that there didn't appear to be any other caves in this valley, which suited him. For some reason, he felt totally satisfied being alone, and he really had no desire at the moment to see any other demons. Well, Tom thought, if I am alone here, then this shall be my kingdom. In a mock imperial manner, the King of the Valley viewed his new land. Truly, looking out over the majestic, rocky valley and the rugged range of mountains, he did feel like a king.
As he was surveying the valley, Tom heard voices calling his name in the distance. Commanding him to attend. Slowly the world began to fade around him, as the King of the Valley was forced to return to slavery.
Chapter 10
The image of the valley was slowly replaced in his mind by that of the tower room into which he had first appeared after traversing the color world. As the valley dimmed and the room came into focus, he was able to note that he was standing in the middle of a five pointed star inscribed within a circle. Tangent to the circle at each point of the star were smaller circles with stars inscribed in them also. In each of the smaller stars was a three legged metal stand with a small bowl on top. Each bowl contained glowing embers which gave off strange noxious odors. He also noted that each brazier was made of a different metal: gold, silver, platinum, a white faintly glowing material, and a dull gray metal unlike any other that he'd ever seen.
Arranged outside of the circles were three individuals, an old balding skinny man, the woman who's face he'd seen in the circle that had summoned him, and the face that he dreaded, the one called Lenamare. The old balding man was about six foot, but not yet bent with age, and weighed in the neighborhood of about one hundred and thirty five pounds, although it was hard to tell since he was wearing a large purple robe. His face was basically skin and bones, his nose long and pointed. He head was shaved except for a mustache and goatee. His gaze fell upon Tom, hesitant, yet determined.
The woman appeared to be in her mid-thirties. Not a great beauty, her features were too sharp for that, yet she had an aura of command about her, that he imagined would pass for strong charisma, if he were more inclined to be sympathetic with her. She was quite tall, about six-two and around one hundred and fifty pounds. Her reddish brown hair was done in a spiraling braid above her head. She wore a black gown trimmed in red, and cut and highlighted so as to reveal a good deal of her ample breasts. She stared at him in a manner of contempt, mixed with a trace of caution. By her stance she felt herself in control, but also she clearly yielded to the third person in the room.
The room's other occupant was Lenamare. A man who Tom would not forget, a face he was sure would haunt his dreams for weeks. Lenamare was the shortest of the three at around five-ten, yet he stood tall and arrogant. Under his robe he seemed trim and slightly muscular. His gray eyes were the same color as the unknown dull gray metal brazier. His hair was a dark brown interspersed with thin hairs of white, like white crests on a dark brown ocean. Lenamare looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, yet his stance bespoke that of youthful strength and arrogance. His glance was cold, totally in control, with no room for doubt as to his mastery. It contained no possibility of ever even understanding the concept of fear, or submission.
All the pain he had felt in the color world seemed, to Tom, to be the sole responsibility of the man before him. He could easily understand how Boggy would want to obliterate his master. Tom still didn't exactly feel like ripping Lenamare to shreds, but he certainly wouldn't have minded returning a little of the pain that Lenamare and his associates had inflicted on him. Tom took a step closer to Lenamare, intending to try and stare the man down. Tom felt confident, that with his superior height and new found strength that he should have little trouble in intimidating this man who was five to six feet shorter than himself. However, as he stepped forward, his hoof encountered resistance. He looked down and saw that his hoof was blocked by some invisible barrier at the edge of the circle. As he looked up quickly, he caught a slight smile on Lenamare's face which seemed to mock his attempt to get closer to the wizard. The smile seemed to be so mocking, that for an instant Tom simply wanted to smash it off the man's face.
"Know, Demon, that thou canst not cross these barriers that we have set for thee. Thou art our servant, thou hast succumbed to my will, Thou wilst obey my orders and those of my lawful assistants," Lenamare said commandingly to Tom.
Tom tried harder to push his foot through. When
this didn't work he stepped back and pushed with his hands against the invisible barrier. As hard as he tried, he couldn't make the barrier even seem to flex.
"Try as you will demon, thou art trapped and thou art mine." Lenamare smiled, and then quickly twisted his fist in a counterclockwise gesture. Pain exploded in Tom's chest. It felt just like what he'd imagined an incredibly severe heart attack must feel like. It was almost crippling, he began to buckle, to go down on his knees, but out of the corner of one of his eyes, as he bent over, he noticed a cruel grin on Lenamare's face. No! Tom thought, I will not give him the pleasure. Stiffly, Tom gritted his teeth and slitted his eyes. Using all of his strength, he forced his legs to straighten to their normal position, and he raised his head to stare directly into Lenamare's eyes.
Lenamare's grin faded, and his eyes became more serious. Eventually, after what must have been only a few more seconds, but which seemed like eternity to Tom, Lenamare nodded, and released his fist. The pain suddenly vanished from Tom's chest. Slowly, he relaxed.
"So, Tomasedwardperkinje, be defiant. But know that was but the mildest of the tortures and pain I shall inflict on thee, if thou dost not obey my commands. Jehenna, the binding."
The woman called Jehenna raised her right hand before her; in it she held a ring. Softly she began chanting something that Thomas couldn't make out. Before his eyes, he almost seemed to perceive the green smoke rings that he had seen the other day. "...by the ancient rites we command thee, be unto us our slave. Let they who hold this ring control thy fate as surely as Lenamare the Magnificent. Ek rios et veltos dok run se falos." At this point Lenamare and the old man joined in. "Rieman et sveltos, kriolbus nek vistrum, Dominae set servitus. Creistes, sen feltos. Rhiallan mak velddrum. Nor fiels sans bartos, kryptos nos vermumn. Thou art ours, thou art ours."
Now Lenamare spoke alone, "by the power of my will, by which I command thee, Tomasedwardperkinje, I hereby relegate my authority to the wielder of this ring. Let the wielder's command of thee be second only to my own. Let all know that today, as forever, thou art bound. Bound by my will, and bound by this ring. May thy soul be trapped in the Neverending Loop of Confinement, ad verti sig fallum. Dros Faustus tan Varn, sid Ekelios, fel Mephistum."