by Mark Eller
Anithia placed her hand on his back and rubbed it in slow circles. This simple gesture was all it took to break the dam of Calto’s cracking resolve. Dropping to his knees, tears flowed faster as Ani knelt beside him, wrapped her arms about his body. As the muted sounds of raging hellborn died, Calto leaned into Ani’s embrace and let the pain of complete failure suck him under into darkest night.
* * * *
Omitan stood at the gates to Hell, waiting with trepidation for his call to be answered. The stench of decay and death clawed at his senses. He felt queasy, unsure of his chances for success. The atmosphere, he knew, made him feel this way. For all but a few it sucked away hope and replaced it with despair. Hell’s foul miasma kept hellkind alive, but others who were exposed to it for any length of time the miasma became a neurotoxin, a drain on the body’s defenses; just one more bit of misery Zorce had created with his foul otherworld science.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Omitan steadied himself. He had never before been to this awful place. Dark and lonely…Omitan had a moment of pity for those hellkind who had been trapped beneath Terra, but only a moment. Looking at the gate before him reminded Omitan why Zorce and his ilk had been banished. Blackened human bones littered the ground. Cracked skulls were set atop every post along the fence Zorce had built within his prison. A dismal place, one well suited for dismal souls.
The air stirred, twisted into a chaotic shape. From its center stepped a beautiful succubus. Bearing long dark magenta hair, smooth pink skin, and a perfect face, she smiled at him. Then she began to emit.
Waves of desire wrapped themselves around his body. Wiggling brown tendrils of manipulated nano sought entrance through his skin, sought to change him, sought to enslave his mind and poison his body, but they could not. His own power repulsed them, reached out and destroyed the tiny nano trying to control him. The succubus’s power continued to weave itself uselessly about his lean, muscular form for a several additional moments before retreating in failure.
Omitan smiled. “In my domain, I have gardens full of true flowers, bright and beautiful and pure. In my eyes, you are but a wicked weed in need of pulling.” Omitan raised his hand and a soft breeze blew the residue of the succubus’s poison away from his body.
Frowning, she placed her hands on her hips. “So! What does the pansy god want here at the gates of Hell?”
Omitan sighed. “I wish to speak to Zorce. It is a matter of great importance. I ask that he show me the courtesy of a safe entrance and safer exit. I am unarmed. I give my word my power shall be contained while within Zorce’s halls.” He spread his hands out in front of him.
The succubus narrowed her eyes and moved closer. Standing opposite from him on the other side of the gate, her gaze roamed over his brown woodcutter’s garb.
“What is this matter you wish to discuss with my lord, oh flaccid one?” Curling her lip, she gave him a withering once over.
Omitan stepped closer to look down on the woman’s face. Her eyes became half lidded. “My business is private and only for another god’s ears. Tell him I am here or do not. Either way, don’t continue wasting my time with useless inquiries.”
Releasing a short laugh, the succubus smiled wickedly. “For a god on his last leg, you are still surprisingly…audacious.” She flicked a sleek black tongue out at him and then vanished into the same chaotic twist of space from which she had arrived. After several long moments the gates of Hell swung open.
Squaring his shoulders, Omitan stepped through and walked on a wide road paved with rough hewn diamonds. He looked out over the landscape to see acrid smoke rising through the air. The underground landscape was suddenly filled with hordes of the damned being driven by demonic soulwrights. Most were twisted and bent and bleeding. Huge creatures with bat wings and long serrated teeth hovered above them, spewing acid upon their already tortured bodies.
Omitan sighed, feeling pity for the wretched beings Zorce’s minions had deceived with promises of riches and power and fame. Unfortunately, their choices had put them beyond the power of healing and light, except for the spawn. He pitied them the most. They were children given over to the dark lord for their parent’s greater glory. A tragedy for all involved.
Omitan walked through Hell’s landscape of nightmares, unable to judge the passing of time. From one instant to another, the scenery reformed itself into chaotic shapes. Buildings appeared and then flickered away. Tortured damned became scuttling crabs and then towering spires. Chaos ensued, nothing remained stable, and Omitan wondered if Anothosia’s pocket universe might be coming undone.
Omitan fastened his gaze into the distance. Almost as if he were seeing a mirage in the desert, Zorce’s castle formed mistily before him before becoming a dark, menacing structure jutting up from the ground. It resembled a broken grave marker outlined in red against Hell’s wavering sky. Black stringy moss clung to its sides, and its windows glowed with flicking orange light. Omitan blinked once, then twice, and found himself standing before the moat surrounding the castle. How had he traveled so fast? Closing his eyes, he tried to clear his mind. He suspected a normal person could go insane if they lived here for very long.
After a few minutes, he turned away from the castle and tried again to look upon Hell’s landscape, but it was only more of the same, wavering un-surety morphing from one reality to the next. Once again facing the castle, he peered across the moat and saw a large black devil standing at the gate controls. The devil glared at him with eyes full of hatred and malice. Omitan could almost read his thoughts, for they were written clearly on the evil being’s face. If given the chance the devil would gladly tear Omitan to shreds and feast on his blood and bones.
Omitan shivered at the sight. This devil’s malice only reflected the smallest part of what belonged to Zorce. Zorce was a madman out for revenge against what remained of the seven gods, now fallen far from the time of their greatest glory. The dark god would not stop until he saw the remaining gods dead and the outer world torn asunder. Any remnant of the man Omitan once knew, of the other-dimensional scientist who once cringed before his grandmother’s stern will after the two escaped from their own reality, was long gone, lost in hate of every being who did not willingly kneel before him.
When the bridge lowered and slammed in place, Omitan steeled himself for the worst and walked across. Another devil had joined the first. A female. Like her companion, she had short, curved horns upon her head, but instead of black iridescent scales, hers were red. Her breasts were large and plump. Her nipples looked like they were made of perfectly formed black stones. Her hair was poisonous black barbs clacking against the side of her face.
The two did not part when he reached them. Instead, they drew closer together, blocking his entrance.
“Zorce says if you fail your bond by hand, word, or will…” The male devil paused and smiled, showing rows of razor sharp teeth, “…we may destroy your body and devour your soul. So, with this in mind, we wish you every ill-luck. It will be delightful to feast on a god’s entrails.”
Snickering almost like naughty children, they led the way into the castle. Shaking his head, Omitan followed. These threats from Zorce’s underlings did not concern him. Although he stood as the least of the gods, he was still a god.
They walked through darkened corridors, past rooms blocked by heavily studded doors. Behind those doors he could feel suffering and hopelessness, pain from hundreds of beings. Through the hallways drifted the screams of the forsaken. Once more despair welled within him like a tidal wave, dragging him under, suffocating his hope as so many of the damned had cast their hope aside long ago.
The three turned down several more corridors, some straight and seeming to lead off forever, others part of a twisted labyrinth which confused even his orderly mind. Along each of those corridors he encountered more cries of misery. Finally, they reached a large entryway. Before him, in the torchlight, an effigy of an impaled spawn burned on a large stone door. Jolson, he knew because of the hook-
handed arm. Rumor said Zorce and Athos hunted this spawn above all others. Another poor soul who had direly displeased Zorce, this effigy reflected the furious anger the Two held for the poor being.
The female devil walked up to the door, opened it, spitting acid on an already tortured being who hung on a hook at the entrance. The creature screamed as green fire erupted over its lacerated body.
Omitan shuddered as a faint hint of dark pleasure teased his mind. Hell’s dark miasma, its own peculiar malevolent nano, curled in lazy circles about his body, seeking an opening, wanting to seep into his soul and claim him for its own. Already, some small part had succeeded. He had to make this visit brief or he might never leave, might never purge his body clean.
“Enter, my fellowgod.” A rich, baritone voice reverberated through the hall.
Gathering his courage, Omitan walked into the chamber, seeing walls covered in gold and diamonds. The floor stretched before him like a river of darkness. Omitan placed his foot upon it hoping its appearance of fluidity was an illusion. The floor held. He walked toward where Zorce sat naked on a throne made of the same flowing darkness as the floor. His thick member, a barbed, erect pole, brushed against his shoulder. His feet were propped on the back of a beautiful wood nymph,
Omitan started when the nymph set her sad gaze on him. She was Galia; the nymph charged with watching over Anithia when she was a child. The poor creature looked at him piteously, fear shadowing her once perfect pixie face. Red welts crisscrossed her arms and legs, dried blood caked her upper thighs.
Omitan shivered with anger. He fastened his eyes on Zorce, forcing himself not to display his rage, his fury over Galia’s abuse and pain. “What are you doing with one of my caretakers?”
When Zorce straightened, his taloned feet scraped across the nymph’s back and dropped to the floor. She whimpered as blood dripped down her sides. “Your caretaker. This creature belongs to me now, my one time friend. What business is it of yours, gardener, how I treat my possessions?” Zorce’s face split into a wide grin, his black lips stretching over row upon row of pointed teeth. Omitan knew the devourer of souls issued him a challenge.
Drawing in a deep breath, Omitan steadied his resolve. He didn’t dare make a hostile move or speak an ill word in another god’s domain, especially not this one. When the time was right he would return for the poor nymph. He would give her honor and heal her in his eternal garden.
“You are correct,” he said, ignoring the baited challenge. He kept his voice carefully neutral. “Galia is not my purpose for coming here.”
Zorce’s eyes narrowed as he leaned back into his throne. Once again, he rested his feet upon the nymph’s torn back. “Then why have you come?”
“I am here to reason with you, to plead for your retreat. You had no right to desecrate my temple in Grace or to burn Loc Mir. I have not interfered in your squabbles with the others, not since your banishment. I never saw it as my place to interfere, but now…you have gone too far. You must stop your rampage. Your single-minded desire for chaos will eventually destroy the world, making it unfit for even you to live upon. Already, changes are being made. Time has ceased flowing in an even line across Yernden, creating pockets where mere weeks pass for some while others experience months or perhaps days. In a few places the seasons are unstable. You must desist in your destruction and recall your hellborn before it is too late. Once you leave Hell everything will fall in upon itself. The anomaly Anothosia created will cease, your kingdom will fall to ruin, and you will have no place left to run once the virtuous gods defeat you again., and they will defeat you. Once the world has fallen to your hellkind there will be no further reason for them to withhold their anger. They will no longer care if the next battle destroys the little your hellborn leave standing.”
Zorce carefully folded his hands in front of him in a mock position of prayer. “Oh dear. Have I ruffled a few feathers upstairs?” He tilted his head sideways, a bemused expression upon his grotesque features.
Omitan’s frown deepened. “This is not a game Dr. Zorchester. What you and Athos are doing is very dangerous. The scars from the last Godwar have barely healed, and now you wish to tear them open again? The world can‘t survive it. I beg you to stop. I am willing to forgive you for destroying my temple and forest if you retreat within your given boundaries.”
Zorce’s laughter echoed through the chamber, hollow and empty. “Let me get this straight. You risked your own person and came all the way into the heart of Hell to abjure me to play nice?”
Zorce did not give him time to answer. Instead, he rose like a dark, foreboding mountain, and casually kicked the nymph away. Her delicate body flew through the air to smash against the far wall. She landed on the floor, her body a spill of broken bones and released entrails. Thick stains and blood splatter marred the wall where the poor creature hit.
Paling, Omitan looked in horror at his servant’s remnants as her nano field pulled free and dissipated away. His body was stiff with shock.
“How dare you come here with all your useless philosophical garbage about why I can’t rule the outer world!” Zorce snapped. “I am a god, gardener. The rest of you so called gods can claim yourselves my equal, but you are not. I created the nano to my needs, to my body, to my DNA. You othergods have only side splashes of my power, a pittance, because my grandmother failed to murder every last trace of those who carried our special genes. Even so, like the others, you do have power. Join me and live. Defy me and die. You would be a fool to waste what my science has given you.”
Zorce’s voice echoed through the vacuous chamber, sending cold chills down Omitan’s spine.
The dark god rose with languid regality and stepped down from his dais. His heavy footfalls clacked as his taloned feet struck the floor. Zorce’s obsidian body rippled with muscle. Pale white and muddy orange streaks of lightening danced around his dual horns. He flexed taloned hands grown as large as Omitan’s head and then squeezed them tight, piercing his palms. Dark, viscous blood welled from the wounds and disappeared as it hit the floor. Walking over to the nymph’s body, Zorce stomped his foot down upon the remains and ground them beneath his foot until they were liquid.
“This is what I think of your pathetic ideology.” Zorce leered at Omitan, spittle dripping from his mouth. “So, do you have anything else you wish to say to me? Any other pleading or will you accept your inferior lot and set your face against my floor? Tell me the secrets of your passage to my realm. Tell me of the hidden door even I can’t see, and I will let you live after everything becomes mine.”
Omitan breathed deeply, sorrow and rage pulling at his insides as the floor sucked in Galia’s remains. What a needless waste of life. Frowning, he focused on Zorce, reassured in what he must do. Zorce left him no other choice.
“You will regret murdering my servant.” Omitan’s voice was a calm whisper. He would not let Zorce goad him into making a fatal mistake. “Of all your crimes, this one angers me the most.”
“Are you threatening me?” Zorce’s eyes burned hellfire orange, and his face took on an expectant grin. A small twitch started at the corner of his left eye.
“No threat,” Omitan reassured, remembering the strictures placed upon him by Zorce’s two devils. “A premonition only. I came here to preserve the balance, to give you a warning. But it appears you have already thought this through. You have made your decision. I am sorry this is the path you have chosen to follow.” Omitan shook his head sadly. He had hoped to avoid an all out war. He had hoped he would not have to openly choose sides, but his hope had just been destroyed. There would be no peace. There would be only war. There would be only death.
“Get out then,” Zorce ordered. “I’ll give you a head start before setting the hounds on you.” Stomping his foot, he gave Omitan a promising sneer.
Omitan wasted no time. Turning, he ran from the chamber to enter the confusion of corridors. Being a god and not a lesser being, he forced the walls to open before him, bypassing traps and snar
es he suspected had been set in place after he entered Zorce’s chamber. Within minutes, he burst from the castle, leaped the mote, and raced across Hell’s landscape, his mission seemingly a failure.
But it was not. Omitan had gained exactly what he wanted, admittance to Hell. Despite what Zorce and his devils thought, the forest god had not entered Hell without weapons.
With a quick movement, he loosed the strings on his belt pouch as his feet chewed distance. The pouch was filled with his special seeds…hopefully the seeds of Zorce’s eventual destruction because they had been blessed by Trelsar, changed so they could grow and thrive in Hell’s toxic atmosphere. He flung them far and wide, each seed burrowing into whatever surface upon which it fell.
Omitan flew across Hell’s landscape, his god speed carrying him swiftly toward the gate. In the distance he saw its blackened frame beginning to close, starting to twist and warp. Behind him, howls of hate and hunger filled the air. The hounds were on the loose. Upending his bag, Omitan let the rest of the seeds scatter as he redoubled his effort. He became a blur on Hell’s road. As the gate was about to close, as its dark, twisted evil was about to seal him in forever, Omitan burst through the narrow opening and exited on the other side. He skidded to a halt.
Howls of rage came from behind the gates. Demonic laughter echoed through the blood red skies. He turned to see a dozen or more hellhounds clawing and slavering at the gate, their eyes ablaze with malicious intent.
Omitan sighed relief. It was done. He hadn’t wanted to be a part of Trelsar’s plans, but he could not allow Zorce to destroy his beautiful lands and the caring creatures who looked after them. Bowing his head, a tear slid from the corner of one eye as he prayed. He prayed for the loss of his faithful servant, Galia. He prayed for Anithia and the other refugees who hid in his sacred caverns, and he prayed for those he knew would soon perish in the fight to come. But most of all…he prayed there really was a god and that somehow He still cared about a planet forsaken by everyone but its embattled inhabitants.