by Mark Barber
Dionne watched as the false image of the demon turned his back and walked off to the north, soon disappearing into the shadows. He stood alone, staring down into the fire, confused by how in the world he had been left feeling as if he were the one in the wrong. He had turned his back on an offer made by a creature of the Abyss, and every tale he had ever heard about offers from demons always ended in misery. But then again, they were just that: tales. Myths. Stories conjured up as Basilean folklore. Lies.
What if Teynne really was telling the truth? Certainly, Dionne had never seen any evidence of dishonesty from him. Was it fair to judge somebody based on their form, no matter how terrifying? He had trusted many soldiers in his time whose perfect uniforms made them out to be the stuff of legend, stalwart, dependable heroes who fought for the honor of Basilea and the Shining Ones above. Yet, when the Hegemon betrayed Dionne, when the Duma had the audacity to pronounce him a traitor, all of these heroic soldiers turned their backs on him. Only the rank and file, the mud and blood covered men with their broken noses, scars and tattoos, they were the only ones who loyally stood by their captain. Appearances meant nothing. Loyalty was everything.
“Wait!” Dionne called out into the night. “Just wait a damn moment!”
He ran off to the north where he saw Teynne stood impatiently on the pathway ahead of him, his arms folded defiantly.
Chapter Eight
A fine drizzle cascaded down from an iron-gray sky above as Dionne willed his aching legs to continue the climb. On the narrow mountain path ahead, Teynne continued to lead the way at a solid pace, just as he had done for the past week now. After taking a boat across the Anerian Wash, the two had traveled up through the Mountains of Tarkis along the east coast of the Province of Solios, closing with the very northern boundary of the entire Hegemony. Days of travel with little food or rest had left even Dionne weary, but it was a weariness he was well accustomed to after years of traveling, a weariness that returned to him like an old friend even though his body did not welcome that friend as readily as it might have a decade earlier.
Up on the path ahead, Teynne stopped and turned to face Dionne with a smile.
“Do you feel that?” the devil masquerading as a man smiled.
Dionne shook his head. Teynne closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, his smile growing broader. Dionne looked out to the east and over the Low Sea of Suan where the first few miles of the familiar seascape were visible through the misty line of moisture that blotted out the clean line of the horizon. The island of Ge was just visible, although its characteristic coastal fishing villages were hidden behind the midmorning mist atop the jagged mountains, the uniform cold gray punctuated only periodically by the dull green of vegetation. Dionne turned to look to the northwest where, penetrating up through the fog somewhere ahead, was the Mountain of Kolosu, the spiritual home of the entire Hegemony.
Up on that very mountain peak was the home of the Shining Ones themselves, the gods of all that was right and just in the world of Mantica. When Dionne had first turned and run from the accusations that were leveled against him following the disaster of the Defence of Samirik, his plan had been to climb that very mountain. Whether it was to seek redemption or vindication, he had never really decided, as a series of unexpected events had stalled his progress until his band of loyal soldiers had set up camp not far from the spot he stood at now with Teynne. They were only a stone throw from where the two paladins had found him years earlier, and where the next disaster that punctuated that phase of his life had unfolded. He had never even gotten close to finding his redemption. Dionne gritted his teeth. There was no way that all of these events could have passed by the Shining Ones without their notice; not so close to Kolosu. Perhaps everything Teynne had told him was true. Perhaps the faith of the Shining Ones was a fallacy. It certainly seemed that way as he looked up into the fog that hid the home of these so-called gods.
“We’re here,” Teynne said as Dionne approached, “this is close enough.”
“Close enough for what?”
“To go home,” Teynne smiled, his red eyes twinkling with something between a friendly warmth and a simmering danger. “I can feel the pull of the Abyss from here. It is not much, but it is enough to get home.”
“You can open… a portal?” Dionne asked.
“Of sorts.”
“Then why wait this long? In fact, if you have such powers then why wait for anything? You say this world is corrupt and you wish to cleanse it, so why not open your portal right into the very heart of the City of the Golden Horn and pour your armies forth?”
The man-demon grinned broadly and let out a long laugh, his lithe arms folded across his chest.
“If only it were that easy, friend! If it were so, it would be done by now, I assure you! But sadly no, that is not how the transference of energy works. Portals require much power, and that power depends on the size of the portal, the duration it must be opened for, and the distance it must cover. Indeed, to move from the Abyss to a gateway in the mortal world, we also need somebody with a portal stone to establish the gateway at the other end of the tunnel. Normally we rely on loyal servants hidden across the mortal world to achieve this, but today it is I who carries such a stone. There are limits to even the powers of the Wicked Ones and those who serve them. If it were not so, then the portals could be used to crush any opposition in exactly the manner you describe.”
Dionne nodded slowly as his labored breathing returned to normal, the musty smells of the mountainside moss filling his nostrils.
“So what is the reality of it all?” He asked as Teynne took a small, smooth stone of obsidian black from a pouch on his belt.
“The reality is that I am now at the very fringe of my connection to the Abyss with a portal stone so small. From here, I will open a gateway for the two of us to travel to the Abyss. If I wanted something bigger, grander, able to bring forth an army or even travel much further from the Abyss, I would need a larger portal stone or greater assistance from the Abyss itself. The ritual to activate such a stone is also significantly longer and more complex. But from here I can get you to your new home.”
“Remember that this is temporary,” Dionne warned, his eyes narrowing.
“Of course,” the demon nodded. “Come, time for us to go.”
Dionne had not stopped to consider what he was expecting in the summoning of a gateway, but whatever it was, he found himself disappointed by the normality of the process. Without ritual or theatrics, Teynne held one hand out and a small, dull spark appeared at head height a few paces ahead of him. The spark moved down to touch the rocky ground, drawing a straight line in space ahead. The line opened into a yawn, creating an oval with a shimmering outline; through the oval, Dionne saw a land that had been seemingly crafted from the worst nightmares of his childhood.
A landscape of ugly, black rocks was punctuated by rivers of glowing red lava, while immense chains of black iron held masses of rocky land in place. The skies were blood red, partially blotted out with thick clouds of sulfurous black. Winged demons with skin of vivid scarlet flew across the skies, while bulbous land-based counterparts stood watch on the mountains of black below as lines of screaming men and women, clad in rags and chains, blistered and burned, were whipped and forced to stagger and limp in line toward the tallest mountain in the distance.
Without a word, Teynne stepped through the gateway and instantly transformed back into his true form of a towering, red-skinned Abyssal Champion. He looked back through the portal at Dionne and grinned a saw toothed smile that somehow seemed friendly to him, even trustworthy.
“Follow me, friend,” Teynne said, “all is well now.”
Drawing himself up to his full height, one hand by his sword, Dionne stepped through the portal and into the Abyss.
The searing heat of the cutting winds and the stench of sulfur immediately hit him. Looking over his shoulder, Dionne saw the now comparatively idyllic vision of the drizzle-covered Mountains of Tarkis disappear
as the portal sealed itself before disappearing altogether. From his vantage point atop a jagged precipice, as far as the eye could see, the land was made up of the same blackened mountains protruding through lakes of burning lava, populated by the lines of damned, tortured victims in chains who trudged painfully and aimlessly toward the central mountain on the horizon, while red-skinned Abyssals of differing shapes and sizes patrolled their flanks.
The dreadful moaning of the tortured victims was occasionally drowned out as walls of fire shot up from the lakes of lava with a roar, falling back down again to spit yellow-hot rocks scattering across the blackened shorelines of the jagged islands. Horned creatures clad in scraps of armor took turns to drag men and women out of line, seemingly at random, to stab at them with pitchforks or flay their skin raw with vicious, barbed whips. Three-headed dogs, nearly as tall as a man, were let loose by their demonic owners to violently maul and tear at victims in the line.
Dionne looked up at the towering figure of Teynne who watched with a grim smile of pride, his arms folded across his muscular chest and his wings tucked in behind his back.
“Who are they?” Dionne demanded, pointing at the endless lines of the amassed hundreds of suffering victims.
“Sinners,” Dionne spat, “larvae, fleshlings, the eternally damned. They are the murderers, rapists, corrupt leaders, and cheats of a thousand years. They deserve their fate, every one of them. You have heard stories, no doubt, of Abyssals taking the innocent from their beds at night and dragging them here into the depths of the Abyss?”
Dionne nodded.
“Nonsense and lies!” Teynne growled. “This is the order of Mantica! This is the unsigned pact between the Shining Ones and the Wicked Ones! There must be a place for the sinners, they must answer for their deeds. And we, we are the guardians of this place, and we are chosen to ensure justice is served. There is only one way for a good man to enter the Abyss – he must willingly choose to do so, as you have just done. This is not a place of nightmares for the undeserving, there is no hell for those who do not deserve it! Only the cruelest, foulest sinners end up here!”
Dionne cast his eyes over the lines of defeated, dejected, and vacant-eyed slaves who continued to trudge on mechanically as they were beaten and whipped. He searched for sympathy for them and found none.
“This is the First Circle,” Teynne continued, “the uppermost of the Seven Circles of the Abyss. This is the place that straddles the path to the other circles from your mortal world; this is the tear across the mortal world of Mantica. But it is also much more, for the Abyss is both a physical place but also a spiritual and incorporeal one. You look around and you see hell; that is as it should be. This is the nightmare for those who deserve it. But there is more to the Abyss, so much more than your priests will have taught you as a child. The Abyss is agony and fire to those who deserve it, but it is also beauty and warmth to those who earn it. If time permits, I might choose to show you a different Circle of the Abyss.”
Dionne looked down from the rocky precipice and watched in silence as the denizens of lower Abyssal continued to torture the endless lines of the damned. A hunchback with a mouthful of viciously sharp teeth and horns sprouting from its head suddenly turned to look up at where Teynne and Dionne stood. The creature let out a yell and pointed. The cry of alarm instantly attracted the attention of dozens of other red-skinned creatures who abruptly stopped their activities and sprinted over lakes of fire and razor edged rocks to form a mass of hellish monsters at the foot of the raised ground. Dionne instinctively reached for his sword as the wall of creatures formed below him, but Teynne held out a hand to stop him.
As one, the Abyssals dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. Teynne nodded in approval.
“Arise,” he commanded, his tone more regal. “Your lord and master has returned.”
The ranks of clawed, horned creatures silently stood; a few flickering fork tongues or shifting tails were the only signs of movement from the otherwise surprisingly disciplined mob. A spark of shimmering light suddenly appeared to Teynne’s right and another gateway was opened. Dionne had a moment to glance through and saw a confused landscape of unearthly beauty, with skies of rich turquoise atop a shifting landscape of green and blue vegetation unlike anything he had seen in his years of travel. A being stepped through the gateway and instantly dropped to one knee in front of the Abyssal Champion as the portal closed.
The being was undoubtedly female, her appealing physique accentuated by scant armor of spiked metal that barely covered her red-skinned form. Her seductive appearance and facial beauty was marred by curved horns sprouting from her forehead and leathery wings folded at her back. Dionne recognized her as a temptress; a high ranking and powerful succubus, an Abyssal that was conjured into being by the base and deprived thoughts of evil, lustful men. At least, that is what he had been taught in a version of events that he now doubted more with every passing day.
“My Lord Champion,” the temptress said, her voice hushed and respectful, “I answer your summons.”
“Arise,” Teynne gave a curt nod.
The figure of twisted beauty stood and shifted her black eyes over to regard Dionne with interest.
“Dionne, this is Am’Bira. She will attend to your every need as we find a way to work together.”
Dionne looked at the temptress, his base thoughts stopping his answer from leaving his mouth. The temptress paced forward with a seductive swing of her hips, leaning in to regard Dionne.
“He finds my form… upsetting,” she smirked.
“Then find something more normal to him,” Teynne barked. “Dionne, I have chosen Am’Bira for you because she is much like you. She, too, began her life as a mortal under the iron rule of the Hegemon. She saw sense and is now one of us.”
“But I am not one of you,” Dionne said carefully, concerned for causing offense to a sea of hellish creatures who had somehow demonstrated more respect to him than his own commanders in the legion. “We have but a temporary alliance.”
“My friend, I think we are past that now,” Teynne smiled. “Am’Bira, a more settling form for our new brother.”
Before Dionne’s eyes, the temptress’s bright red skin faded to a pale, conventional hue while her wings and horns faded away to disappear. Her jagged, revealing armor was replaced by tall boots of black suede, with matching gloves and a tight corset, a cloak of black falling from one shoulder. Her black hair framed the striking face of an eye-catching woman in her mid to late thirties. But that was not the part that stood out to Dionne. The woman’s belt buckle was a large metal block fashioned into the emblem of a blazing sun, but now defaced with a deep scratch across its surface. Dionne’s eyes widened. She had once been a nun of the Basilean Sisterhood. A sister who had fallen into damnation. He looked up at her to find her still watching him with interest.
“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” The dark haired woman issued a slight smile.
“We have?”
“Only briefly, some years ago now,” she confirmed. “You might not remember me, but I remember you.”
Dionne looked back across to Teynne. The towering champion looked down impassively, his arms still folded.
“Am’Bira will act as your guide,” Teynne declared, “for I have my own lords to converse with. Am’Bira will introduce you to your new soldiers.”
Dionne shook his head.
“This was not our agreement,” he said sternly, “we have a temporary alliance. I have not spoken to my men regarding this, and I owe them that much. Without me talking to them, they will judge you on your appearance, and attack you on sight. First, I must…”
“Dionne, my friend,” Teynne held up a hand to silence him, “sadly none of this will be necessary. All of your men are dead.”
“What?” Dionne demanded, his fists clenched as he took a stride toward the demon. “What did you do?”
“I did nothing,” Teynne said sympathetically, “they were killed by the forces of the Hegem
ony. Men of the legion and the paladin orders. Your men were all killed in battle near Emalitos, a week ago now. They stood fast, resolute, against a much greater force. They fought bravely to the last, for you.”
Dionne took a step back, his vision swimming in the hot, stifling winds of the First Circle of the Abyss. Losing his footing on the jagged rocks, he stumbled and dropped to one knee. Am’Bira stepped across and offered a hand to him. With a snarl of rage, he batted it away. Teynne drifted over and towered above him.
“Your loyal, brave soldiers were killed by the true villains in this sorry saga,” the winged devil said with sincerity. “The Hegemon’s deluded killers. For centuries now, since the mirror shattered and our world was torn asunder, the Shining Ones have deluded all mortals with deceit, twisted lies that paint us within the Abyss as mindless animals, things to be feared. Only the evil and the damned should fear us! We bring order and balance to the world where the followers of the Shining Ones bring only riches to the corrupt!”
Fighting to control his breath, Dionne looked up at Teynne as the Abyssal Champion’s outline was silhouetted by a wall of fire shooting up from the lakes of lava behind him.
“Your world is not fair, my friend!” Teynne snarled. “You know that! You tried to do the right thing many years ago, and you have lived as a criminal ever since as a reward for your integrity! Listen to the voice of reason, man! Your whole life is a lie, pedaled by the very bastards who dare to judge you and call you a criminal! They’ve taken your honor, they’ve killed the men who looked up to you as a father! You have nothing back there, nothing! But here? Here you belong! Here you will have respect and loyalty!”
Whether the hordes of lower Abyssals had moved up to form a circle around him or whether the land itself had lowered to meet them, Dionne did not know, but he found himself now surrounded by a sea of fanged, horned faces of red that somehow did not seem to pose a threat.
