The Satanists

by Philip R Benge

  Towers slowly regained his feet, then he walked across to Rob and struck him, but Rob just stood there looking at the heavily built Satanist with contempt.

  “Enough, Jonathan, tie his hands behind his back and then deal with the other two men, remember to gag them, we do not want them interrupting the service. Minutes later the three men were pulled into the east transept of the church, bound and gagged, and forgotten, for the moment.

  “Right we have no time to spare, we must power up the Mist of Glairmore, put the younger girl upon the altar.” Parkston ordered. He refrained from using her name, that would make this too personal, guilt at what they were about to do to his two nieces was beginning to surface.

  Marjorie Parkston and Moira Bourbon walked to the altar and quickly cleared it of the items left there by the builders, and then Towers appeared carrying Stephanie Parkston. She was naked again and thankfully unconscious, having fainted for real this time; too ensure that it was not another trick Mrs Knightly had given her a powerful sedative, this would also make Stephanie`s last moments a little easier, Towers now laid the limp girl upon the altar. Simon Parkston now brought the Mist of Glairmore across to the altar and placed it on the floor beneath the neck of the young girl.

  Rob and his two friends, who had now awakened, could only look on in disgust, both at their inability to stop this obscenity from happening, and at the Satanists who had sank so low as to sacrifice a human being on an altar to the dark goddess.

  “Gather around followers of Lord Lucifer, for we are about to take a great leap forward in our glorious quest for power.” Parkston called to the Satanists who all moved eagerly towards the altar.

  “Oh glorious Goddess Hekate, receive this sacrifice from your devoted followers, we dedicate the blood of a virgin girl to you alone, please look upon us favourably and provide your glorious power to the Mist of Glairmore.” Parkston cried out in exaltation.

  Hekate had not abandoned her faithful followers; a swirl of bright orange lights first appeared, and then a body took form within the lights as the form of Hekate began to appear. This time it was before the altar upon which Stephanie Parkston lay unconscious, and finally they all saw that once again Hekate had chosen to honour their mass with a personal visit. She looked at the still body of the offering, her face bore a manic smile, although she was here for reason of her own, the anticipation she felt for the imminent sacrifice, and in her honour, filled her with an erotic rapture.

  “Wondrous and Powerful Goddess, accept this offering.” Parkston cried out to Hekate.

  Rob turned away, unable to look on as Parkston pulled out an ornate knife and slit the throat of the unconscious girl, he would have uttered a groan, if he was not gagged, but his heart sank further than ever before, and he prayed to god to save Evelyn from a similar fate. When Christina and Cassie had been about to suffer a similar fate, at least he had been free, and had been actively doing something in an attempt to save them, this time he was bound, gagged, and had almost given up hope of ever seeing his young wife again.

  Simon Parkston watched enthralled as the blood drained out of the young girl to fill the Mist of Glairmore, as the last few drops fell he was actually having an orgasm. A whirling ball of energy rose from the artefact and circled around every person within the ruined church, a small thread breaking of the main ball of energy to enter into each person it touched, even Rob and his two friends felt the energy surge through them.

  “Thank you most magnificent of goddesses, thank you for this protection you extend to us, for we are about to travel to a dangerous world to win a marvellous and powerful prize. This we do in your honour.” Parkston cried out to Hekate.

  Hekate looked at the Satanists and smiled, for she had plans of her own, and they differed in one crucial aspect from those of the Satanists kneeling before her in adoration, she wanted the Ark for herself. She had learned of the Satanists plans from one of her most devoted followers, a member of the coven who had long been a priestess in the service of Hekate, however she would not be going with the Satanists to Tartarus, the dangers in that hell dimension were far too great.

  **********

  In the hell dimension of Tartarus, the ancient gods looked on in wondrous anticipation of their release, all was proceeding along a path that would create an opening in their prison walls, and allow them to return to Earth. Once there, they would resume their rightful place as the lords of Earth, Heaven and Hell, a position that another god had usurped thousands of years in the past.

  “The Key might open a portal anywhere along the energy barrier oh mighty Kronos, how will we know that they have entered Tartarus?” A Titan cried out in despair.

  “It matters not, you dolt of a Titan, for we only have to guard the golden Ark of Baʿal Berith, and they will come to us.” Kronos replied and he sent such a look of contempt at the Titan that it almost made it shrivel up.

  **********

  In the ruined church, the Satanists were ready to proceed with the next step, to use Evelyn Parkston to charge up the Key of Tartarus. At the height of this part of the black mass, Moira would use the Key of Tartarus to open a portal within the energy barrier that kept all the inmates of the hell dimension Tartarus securely locked away.

  Rob struggled with the tight ropes that bound his wrists, but to no avail, he could only look on in painful agony as another young girl was laid upon the altar, she was also naked, and thankfully, Evelyn was also unconscious. Parkston approached the young girl and poured a liquid between her lips, it was a drug that would ensure that she did not awaken during the ceremony, something of humanity still resided within the Satanist`s dark heart.

  The Satanists now began to pour a powerful brew from a large glass jug into the pewter goblets that they had brought along with them, the brew came from the punch bowl in the courtyard of the manor house. The jug had been airtight, but now the brew was open to the air, a thin yellow plume began to rise from it, and this was the signal for the Satanists to drink their exotic concoction. They downed the smoking brew in one go, then throwing the pewter goblets to the floor with a clatter, they once again began to tear off their clothes, and then to dance before the altar, what followed was a bacchanalian orgy that finished only when Simon Parkston uttered a loud chant that rang around the old church.

  “There is only one ruler of Earth and the heavens. Lord Lucifer, Lord Lucifer, Lord Lucifer.”

  The chant ended here, normally they would have dedicated the sacrifice to their dark lord now, but this time they were using the young girl to power up the Key of Tartarus.

  “Oh wondrous Hekate, goddess of witchcraft, accept this sacrifice that we your people offer up to you, fill this device with the energy only a goddess possesses so that we might use it to honour you again.” Simon Parkston cried out.

  Hekate now moved forward to the altar where the Key of Tartarus lay, and she laid her hands upon it; the Satanists gasped in awe when the Key now began to glow, brighter and brighter. Hekate was growing visibly weaker as the device drew more and more power from her. Finally, she wrenched her hands away from the Key and sank to the floor of the church looking very pale and exhausted.

  The Satanists gasped in fear, however, Moira now picked up the Key of Tartarus, for it was now her turn in the drama, however, even she could hold back a gasp of wonder when she felt the power running through the device. She now held the device high above her head and called out in a loud voice.

  “Key of Tartarus, create a portal in the eternal walls of the world that you helped to create, and let us walk through it into your realm, take us to the Fortress of Kronos.” Her cries ending in a slightly hesitant voice, but all the time she concentrated upon one thing only, the Fortress of Kronos.

  Moira was feeling a little unsure, as were the other Satanists, now the time was upon them. Not only because of the danger posed by their actions, should any other god or demon get wind of what they were doing, but also to enter a high security hell dimension of one’s own accord, well it seeme
d just ludicrous in the extreme.

  However, Moira could feel the energy pulsating through the device created by god himself; and then a beam of light leapt forth from the Key, striking the very rear of the old church. A new pair of doors suddenly appeared at the rear of the church, they slowly opened, and as the Satanists looked out through them, they saw a dark and forbidding land waiting for them, one lit up by a red sun slowly climbing up through the alien sky. Its glow lighting up a large and rather forbidding fortress that dominated the land before them, although a long line of smoke partially obscured their view of its walls.

  Jonathan Towers looked in awe at the scene before him, until Moira shook him violently, recovering his composure, he now switched on the Mist of Glairmore, and a fog instantly appeared around all of them.

  Rob looked more worried than ever, for from her words it now appeared that Moira Bourbon knew more about the Key of Tartarus than even Lord Asbaritch suspected. Rob desperately hoped that the young Satanist still possessed some smidgen of sanity; otherwise, the world that he knew would be truly in danger.

  Chapter Seven

  The Hell Dimension of Tartarus

  Simon Parkston led the way into the hell dimension, a hot and rather humid world, with an all-pervading smell of sulphur and something else, it was burning flesh, the evil mixture making them all want to retch. Marjorie Parkston followed on behind him, she was holding on to him as if her life depended upon it, which it might, and fear plainly the only emotion she was capable of feeling right now, and no longer filled with a desire to steal this world`s mystical powers.

  Rob, Gerry and Father Pritchard were dragged to their feet and pulled through the pair of doors into hell, and each of them worried about the sort of fate they could expect in such a place. Moira was the last to leave the safety of the ruined church, but it was not fear that held her back, she just wanted to experience the moment without anyone getting in her way. After walking just twenty feet into Tartarus she stopped and turned to face the ruined church, she stopped for a moment, surprised to see that almost the whole of old church had entered the hell dimension, and not just the new doorway at the rear of the church, as she had surmised would happen. Only the front of the church was missing, the building tapering off within a diaphanous veil that was wrapped about the far end, she could even see the ground of this world through it. Moira`s reason for turning back to the old church was to ensure that the dimension they returned to was the same one that they had just left, one without any of the ancient gods rampaging through it.

  “Wondrous Key of Tartarus, I order these doors to be closed shut and locked.” Moira cried out solemnly. Then she threw a small glass phial at the door, it smashed against it spewing out a red liquid, she had concocted the potion before leaving the ancient manor house. Moira Bourbon looked every part the Hollywood screen adventurer, with the Key of Tartarus hung around her neck, for earlier she had tied a short length of rope to it so as to free her hands, she wore a safari style hat upon her head, and had a sharp dagger slipped into her belt.

  The other Satanists turned at her loud words, and a terrible fear ran through them when they realised that the way back was closed to them without the Key. However, their looks of hatred, aimed at Moira Bourbon, were brushed aside by the young Satanist, who despised them for this act of cowardice.

  To their left, not more than two miles away from them, they could see an active volcano; it reached far up to the dark red sky above, belching out smoke and ash that hung across this world, dimming the light and making this terrible world seem very much like the one of Dante`s book . A stream of red hot lava could be seen running down the volcano`s flanks, and flames now erupted from its massive crater, adding a definite reddish tint to the Satanists` skin and clothing.

  Behind the old ruined church a line of volcanoes were also belching out smoke and ash, thankfully for the moment the wind was blowing it away from them, although none of these volcanoes appeared to be throwing out rivers of lava. It appeared that the Key of Tartarus had placed them exactly where they had expressed a desire to be, in the middle of the most terrible of all the hell dimensions.

  In front of them lay the way to the fortress, but the ground on either side of the track was pockmarked with vents, and a sulphurous smoke slowly leaked out of them. The land that stretched all the way to the fiery volcano was filled with more of these vents, all adding to the terrible smell, and the sulphurous air coming from all of this volcanic action making it hard to breathe.

  To their right was a range of hills that hid the land beyond, however, screams and groans were reaching them from this direction, and it had the effect of making Simon Parkston feel rather fearful, trepidation now filled his heart, his resolution was disappearing fast. He came to a sudden halt upon the narrow track that led from the old ruined church, and led straight towards the fortress before them. He looked back at the young Satanist who had instigated this perilous quest, and who was second only to him in satanic powers amongst his coven. His face showed the fear that was now pounding away within his heart, for the sight before them, that he had only just seen, was truly terrifying. A wide track led from the hills to their right, straight through a long ragged line of smoke that slowly rose up to the sky above, and then the track continued until it finally disappeared amongst some low hills on the far horizon. On the other side of the smoke, they could see a pair of massive wooden doors; they were firmly set into the cyclopean walls of the fortress, which was now only a minute away. However, the wind now chose to change direction, it blew the smoke clear of the road, and what Simon Parkston saw stopped him in his tracks. Like a scene straight out of a movie about ancient Rome, crucified people stretched for as far as the eye could see. They were all still conscious, and all crying out in agony, this was their punishment for the crimes committed by them during their mortal lives. Of course they were dead, however, they were still capable of feeling pain, feeling thirsty, which was a constant desire in this hot dimension of hell, one that would never be satisfied.

  Marjorie Parkston almost fainted when she saw the crucified citizens of hell, she would have turned and fled, except her husband now had a firm grip upon her arm, she turned to him and silently begged to be allowed to return to the ruined church, however, he ignored her while he struggled with his own fear. Agnes Parsons did not allow his treatment of his wife to forestall her though; she walked up to him and gave vent to her fears.

  “Simon, look about us, surely we should leave this terrible world while we still can, to venture further on would be the height of madness.”

  Parkston heard the other Satanists whispering similar thoughts, and he too shared many of the thoughts voiced by his friends, but he did not have to time to speak. Moira had appeared at his side, up until now she too had been busy scanning the vista before them, not only taking in the view but also looking for any signs that showed that they had come to the notice of the rulers of this hell dimension. When she had seen the crucified people she too had stopped for a moment, but only for a moment, she felt no compassion for the tortured souls before her, she assumed that they deserved all that was happening to them. She had the whole of her life before her, and soon she would have the golden Ark of Baʿal Berith, so she would be able come to a much better deal with her dark lord. Dismissing the suffering, she first turned to Simon Parkston to look into his eyes, into his very soul, or so Parkston felt when those hard green eyes met his own. Then she turned to the others, who were mostly still in various states of shock and fear.

  “What did you jerks expect when you agreed to join Simon and me on this glorious quest? You`re too old to have a nanny powder your little bottoms, so grow up now, and be damned quick about it.” Moira screamed. Then she turned back to Simon Parkston.

  “Simon, the fortress is there before us, unguarded, and we appear to have entered Tartarus unseen, thanks to the Mist of Glairmore. Let`s quickly move on, get the Ark and then skedaddle out of this prison before we too are invited to stay.” Moira said and
walked past the others, moving towards the Fortress of Kronos. The forbidding aura it was giving off was lost upon her; she simply saw a building that held her Ark.

  The Satanists looked after her, stunned by her harsh words, however, when Parkston was shamed into following her; they too hesitantly followed on behind, not wanting to be left behind, alone, especially as Moira had the Key. They moved forward in a single line, towards the road, now the citizens of hell finally noticed the thick fog moving towards them, and they guessed that it concealed someone or something. Immediately the noise of their cries grew even louder, and all of them were now crying out for help. Some were asking whoever was in the mist to aid them, while others conversely, wanted help to save them from these mist covered beings. The Satanists stopped and looked nervously about them for danger, for they had thought to be hidden from sight, yet these dead creatures apparently saw them through the fog. One other thought occupied the minds of the Satanists, some day in the future, would the fate of these poor tortured souls be their own fate.

  “What are you stopping for, move your sorry butts.” Moira cried back at the wavering line of Satanists.

  Her words got them moving again, the four Satanists carrying the shotguns hugging their weapons to their breasts, the feel of the cold metal comforting them, a little. They were spread amongst this small group, although none of them knew if the weapons would prove effective against the gods and demons of this terrible domain, but their presence did provide some comfort, even to those who were unarmed. As the walls of the fortress came ever nearer they could now see that they were indeed unmanned, or maybe the term should be undemoned, luck was still with them.

  Rob too looked away from the line of tortured beings; to do anything for them risked death from so many ways, not the least from the tortured beings themselves, for he thought that if they were released, there was a real chance that they would then turn upon their rescuers. Instead, he looked at the unmanned walls of the fortress, and he wondered if this was the norm in demon land, if so why were the massive structures built, maybe they were the result of the powerful black magic possessed by the rulers of this terrible land. If so the massive undertaking was not massive after all, merely impressive. He too searched the surrounding hills for signs of life, but all he saw here was cruelty and death, he then looked at the Satanists, and for a moment, he felt a certain sympathy for them, until he remembered the two girls whose lives had been cut so short.