“What’s this?” he asked mockingly, his voice hissing the end syllables, “A trifling troublemaker in my midst?” His head tilted as he said this, eyes narrowing slightly.
Mara was speechless, too afraid to answer.
“I’ve not seen you before. New, are you?” He got no answer from the trembling girl. “Well? Answer me, changeling!”
“Yes,” Mara managed to choke out, attempting to nod her head.
“Ah, you have a tongue, after all. Pity for you, and an even bigger pity for me seeing as how you’ve been assigned here,” he observed. “You have been assigned here, yes?”
Not knowing whether yes or no was the better answer in this situation, Mara finally settled on “yes”.
“Is that all you can say?” he asked in a demanding tone.
“No,” she answered. Surprisingly this caused the creature to spurt out a laugh. It was quickly extinguished, though and his look grew serious once more.
“What is your name, changeling?” he inquired.
“Mara…sir,” she answered, adding the 'sir' as an attempt to get in his good graces and make things easier on herself.
“Well, Mara,” he replied cynically, voice grating, “welcome to Hell. I am Charun; best you learn it now, as I will not repeat myself, even to a tempting piece of meat such as yourself. From this point on you work for me, here in the furnaces. But I will not tolerate any philandering behavior here. Not from you, or anyone else for that matter. Be on your best behavior and try your best not to piss me off. You will not find yourself in a comfortable position if you do.”
Mara did her best to nod in agreement since her mouth felt welded shut by his tight grip.
“Glad we understand each other. Now, if you’ll kindly remove your hand from that bruised dick you’re clinging to, we can start you on your assignment.”
Mara’s eyes widened at his words as she glanced around, realizing that her hand was wrapped painfully around a wilted stub. The demon behind her had fallen silent and Mara didn’t bother asking why. Gulping, she uncoiled her fingers from the member and brought her hand back to the front, letting it hang limply at her side.
“Good,” Charun said, and raising his arm quickly, he brought it down in a swoop and Mara heard the unmistakable crack of a whip follow. “Release,” he commanded sharply.
At his command the hands which had been holding Mara up against the wall suddenly released her and she fell to the ground. As she stood up, she looked behind her to see the injured demon pull his self slowly back into the wall, nearly whimpering as he went.
“Perhaps you’ll learn to not mess with the new recruits until they can be fully assessed,” Charun said sharply to him before turning to Mara. Able to get a better look at him she noticed his leathery wings protruding from his back; they were nearly as big as he was. She watched him wrap the whip loosely around his neck and study her with interrogating eyes.
“Well, don’t just stand there like a bumbling idiot, follow me,” he said, motioning her to follow him as he walked off.
She did as he said, and followed him through the maze of fire and stone, all the while listening to him as he spoke of what to and what not to do and explained the life and duties of those residing in the furnaces.
Chapter Two
An orange flickering light illuminated the darkness for brief seconds as the flame erupted from Saraf’s reptilian mouth. The fire extinguished itself as quickly as it had ignited as his pointed mouth closed and the room was once again cast into blackness. Saraf finished his infernal yawn and abruptly fell back into sleep, oblivious to the pungent stench of smoke that now encased the surrounding air due to his fiery breath.
Looming shadows danced along the stone walls, forever bound in them, for means of pain and pleasure only to be known to their haunted souls. A solitary figure emerged from the far recesses of the wall, stepping back down upon the stone floor from the small iceberg where it had previously sat. The figure resembled that of a man, though it was anything but, if one could see beyond the physical attributes. His booted feet clicked on the stones as he made his way, at a leisurely pace, to the center of the room, where he halted in front of Saraf. The dragon was currently in a curled position with its heavy tail wrapped firmly around its front, clawed feet. No doubt this provided the beast with a needed form of security. Deep in slumber, it breathed in a steady rhythm combined with a shallow undercurrent that could only be heard while in close proximity to the giant creature. It released sounds every few seconds that could only be described as a resonating snore. The shadowy figure stretched out a steady hand to brush against the rough scales that adorned his favored pet, amused at the fact that Saraf’s fire could not melt the ice that was scattered about the room in various forms but could scorch the flesh of anything in its torrid path. The dragon did not stir at his master’s soft touch, but continued his much needed rest.
The figure removed his hand and let it drop to his side before turning to leave, blond hair swinging around him in an arc as he did so. The smoke that had been encasing the room had begun to evaporate, making the scenery much clearer to his azure eyes. Newcomers had a difficult time gaining their sight down here in the infernal region, yet this tall foreboding figure had arrived at its creation making him all too familiar with the dimness with the dimness into which he had been cast down. All around he could see the intricate designs carved into the walls of the seemingly circular room, designs of chaos. Of beauty as he saw it, the beauty of innocence collapsing upon itself and surrendering to the ways of depravity and corruption. How he longed for that day.
As he walked to the heavy steel door, the sound that his boots made was not the only sound reverberating off the towering walls. He could hear screams, moans, the unmistakable sounds of tortured soul pleading for forgiveness, something that will never come. Ah, they always pray a bit too late, he thought as he stopped at the door to listen for a moment, feeling exceptional that he could hear these sounds, for many others could not. He always liked to savor them. The sounds were endless, yes, but they could not be heard everywhere. Only in certain regions and Saraf’s holding chambers was one such place. The screams played upon his ears like the sweet music he used to listen to while residing above, in that other place. Though, instead of sweet song, he now preferred the sounds of agony to alleviate his boredom.
That was his biggest problem now, constant boredom. He had noticed of late that it had become increasingly slow around here, and the silence was more than he could bear. There had been no assignments for him in what seemed like ages, though he wasn’t sure exactly how long, since there was no such thing as time here. He had wandered the halls and numerous chambers until he had exhausted all possible escape routes, leaving himself even more vacant than when he had started his task. He concluded that all he needed, perhaps, was some sleep. Maybe after a nap he would wander down to see Charun, it had always been a past pleasure of his to sit in on one of Charun’s torture sessions. But that was later, Charun’s chambers were a long way off and he would need Saraf and Inigo to get there, both of which were already sleeping in their corners. With that, Belial closed the large door behind him with a pale hand and made his way to his chambers for a quick repose.
***
Philotanus had tired of searching the halls for Belial per the Lord’s request. He had no idea why his master was being summoned to the Lord’s chambers and was not the least bit curious as he rounded a sharp corner to continue on his quest. He also knew that if he did not find Belial quickly, he would be subjected to endless forms of dreaded unpleasantness, even by his standards. Belial had not been in his chambers and no others had caught sight of him, or so they claimed. Philotanus knew he could not trust low-level demons in their hurried answers. They were forever practicing their deception, but he had been taught by one of the best. Belial was the ultimate deception in his self, beautiful and elegant in his appearance yet scheming and malevolent in his mind. Philotanus knew he had much to learn from him and was quite a
nxious to continue his training, but that was another matter saved for another time.
He had been pondering this as he walked, not paying much attention to his surroundings and he slammed into something solid, being thrown back by the force. Belial merely hissed at him as their bodies collided and Philotanus fell to the hard floor, landing on the wet grime, soiling his clothes. He glanced up to see the more powerful demon staring at him with annoyance etched into his regal features. Philotanus thought it best to just get right to the point with him, since he seemed to be in a rather unpleasant mood already.
“My lord, you’ve received a summons from the Great One. He commands your presence in Eastern Region where he awaits with Charun. He says it is a matter of urgency, my lord,” Philotanus informed from his lowly position.
“Was the nature of the request revealed, Philotanus?” Belial inquired, raising an eyebrow in mock interest.
“Nay, my lord. Only that you are to go to Bael’s chamber for a meeting of sorts, lord. They expect you there forthwith.”
“Very well, that is all, Philotanus,” Belial replied with a gesture of his hand waving his assistant off, before turning to go.
Philotanus nodded a quick reply before scrambling up and heading off to continue his skilled assault on mortals, tempting them to commit acts of sexual deviancy.
***
Belial headed back to the tower he had just left to retrieve Saraf and Inigo. He would need them to make the journey to the Eastern Region where Lucifer was waiting. He wondered what he could possible want after all this time. It seemed they hadn’t kept company in the same room in over a millennium. They went about their own business and had gone their separate ways some time after the Fall. Belial could never imagine why, since he had come to look upon Lucifer as a sort of mentor back in those days. Yet, much time after they had been cast out of their old home, he had gotten the inexplicable feeling that Lucifer did not want Belial around him. Perhaps it was that he blamed much of the revolt on Belial, thus making him responsible for the exile in which they all found themselves. You never could take any responsibility for anything, could you, Lucifer? Belial thought as he walked through the heavy wooden door of the tower once again, the smoky air hitting him full force as he advanced. Saraf must have let out one of his flaming yawns again, he thought as he moved to awaken the beast, making sure to stand beside him instead of directly in his path so as not to be the victim of a scorching in case the dragon decided to get spooked and flame him.
“Saraf!” his voice boomed in the room and would have echoed about if there were such things there. “Inigo! Awaken.”
Saraf’s eyes darted open at Belial’s command while Inigo’s blinked lazily, their amber depths cloudy from sleep. Inigo opened his mouth in a yawn but did not generate fire the way Saraf did. Instead, a long pink tongue rolled out and hung over the lower part of his mouth before curling back up inside it as it’s jaws clamped tightly shut.
“Arise,” he commanded while gesturing with his hand. He walked to stand in the center of the room so as to give the animals room to rise. He heard their claws scrape against the stones as they rose to their padded feet. Towering figures of muscled force loomed over him as they positioned themselves in front of his chariot. He climbed aboard and relaxed within its encompassing walls and braced himself for the ascent.
“To the Eastern Region,” he called as the two winged reptiles took flight and shot up through the circular tower to the high opening. They emerged effortlessly, followed closely by Belial’s chariot. Their leathery wings stretched across the open air as they flew above the labyrinths below toward the Eastern Region of Hell.
***
An imperial throne sat empty atop a cobblestone platform, its usual occupant now descending the old stone staircase that connects it to the carpeted floor below. His large feet, encased in knee-high boots of black and red leather adorned with carnassial spikes, advanced down each worn step in a timely fashion. Though the man connected to those booted feet was quite large himself, with a considerable stature of about six and a half feet in the air and befit with a thick girth, his feet touching the steps caused no sound to be heard, giving the impression that he was walking on air or just possibly light as a feather. The only sound was the soft click as his black scepter touched down on each step beside him. He was quite graceful for someone of his size and though he was foppishly attired, the expression on his face was most certainly not. A sneer had been permanently etched into his facial muscles and his light brown hair was pulled tightly back from his face, making the scornful look more harsh than usual. His black breeches fit snugly around his muscled thighs and enhanced their appearance as his legs moved, never increasing tempo once. A silver-buckled belt rested comfortably around his waist. If one were to look closely, they could see the serpent carvings of the buckle intertwined infinitely. A crimson shirt covered his upper torso, but just barely as it seemed its silk was so delicately thin. Its sleeves reached his wrists with a hint of ruffle and it was properly tied at the base of his thick neck. A floor-length cloak made of the finest velvet topped off the ensemble. Its shade was a swirl of red and black and it perfectly accented his elegant air. Adorned with various jewels cascading down the lengths of the sides, it had but one threatening aspect, that of two small jagged horns protruding from each shoulder.
Charun watched from the aisle below as the cape billowed softly behind Lucifer as he reached the last step. Though he was the infernal emperor he wore no crown. Nor did he need to, for his already menacing appearance and haughty demeanor made it quite clear what his position was. As Lucifer advanced toward him, Charun lowered himself to his knobby knees and bowed his bald head in allegiance. The emperor stopped but three feet away from the winged demon crouched in front of him. He extended a ringed hand out to him, palm down, and stood waiting not bothering to take another step forward so Charun could reach him easily. Charun lifted his head slightly and opened his yellow eyes to find Lucifer looming before him in a mocking stance. Charun instinctively raised and closed a gray-clawed hand around Lucifer’s pale one and brought it to his cracked lips. Lucifer’s face grimaced a bit under Charun’s rough touch. Charun bristled also, but his was directed inwardly, since to show distaste on your face in front of the Lord Lucifer would be viewed as blasphemous and subject one to harsh punishment. And since Charun was the chief punisher of sinful souls, he knew all too well what that punishment might be.
Charun’s discomfort stemmed from a different source than that of Lucifer. While Lucifer showed disdain because of Charun’s hardened skin, Charun was physically uncomfortable from the feeling of burning flesh as he gripped Lucifer’s hand. The flesh of the emperor, though unfelt by him, had the ability to cause first-degree burns on those it came in contact with when the emperor became even the least bit agitated. And Charun was feeling that scorching effect at the moment. He showed no physical sign of his discomfort, merely finished the submissive praise and then released his hand from the Devil’s. He waited patiently, still crouched, until Lucifer told him to rise. To which he complied, dutifully. By the time he did this, Lucifer had already walked past him and was headed down the black carpet towards the double doors of his chamber. Charun quickly turned to follow him making sure to stay a few steps behind.
“Have the ones I requested been summoned?” he heard Lucifer ask as he opened the doors.
“Aye, my Lord. I believe Belial is being retrieved as we speak, and the rest are already in Bael’s chambers in the East, my Lord,” Charun answered, his slightly hunched figure weighed down by his oversized wings.
Lucifer nodded curtly as he took in the information. He stepped out into the icy hallway, wind screaming as it whirled by eager to topple anyone in its destructive path. It did not affect him, though, he just stood there as if one with it. His clothes didn’t even move in the chaos surrounding them, his hair was still perfect. He just seemed so… serene. But Charun knew by now that was a careful glamour. Lucifer was all about outward showcasing. C
harun, however, was quite used to the blazing fire in the lower regions, so this coldness was quite unwelcome. His wings opened to shield him as they wrapped around his shivering body. Then suddenly Lucifer turned to him.
“I trust you will wait outside the chamber doors until I summon you?” He asked, though it sounded much more like a statement than a question.
“Aye, my Lord,” Charun answered, concentrating on keeping his teeth from chattering.
“Very good, see you there,” Lucifer answered as he raised his scepter with his right hand, and then brought it down in an arch around him. And then, Lucifer vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Charun to fly down to the Eastern Region alone.
***
The flight to the East was relatively short for Belial due to Saraf and Inigo’s speed, and he found himself leaning over the side of the chariot to peer down at the busy city below. Demons, young and old, were bustling about their everyday duties. Some were on foot, some rode atop various creatures, and some were in flight like him, though much lower. An alicorn swiftly flew by, its silver hair flowing freely as its hooves beat steadily in the air. He glimpsed Nybras atop his griffon, no doubt on his way to his workshop to procure pleasures for second order demons and the like. Belial half smiled at this and turned his attentions in front of him as he heard a crackling noise, just in time to see flames spurt from Saraf’s mouth. Apparently a winged inferior had gotten a bit too close to the dragon and Saraf had let him know in no uncertain terms that it was best to keep a distance. Belial watched with slight amusement as the young demon howled while dropping to the ground below, his left wing smoking profusely. Saraf turned to look at him and Belial gave him a slightly scolding look, but reassured his favorite pet of his amusement by throwing him a whole lapin that the dragon skillfully caught in his mouth. Inigo also turned his elongated head as if to say, what about me? But Belial waved a finger at him in a tsk tsk motion and simply said, “Make me proud first.”
The Threshold Page 3