He found the ritual room a bustle of activity when he stepped in. Eris was muttering a small incantation as she plunged a needle into Gwen’s arm and drew it out. The single drop of blood beaded on the tip of the needle sparkled before dropping into the small fetish the witch had made. Syn and the high elf were having a quiet, but heated discussion about whether or not the pale elf could wear her weapons.
It was the silent little demon who hid in the corner watching everything with bird-bright eyes that drew the young man’s attention. Her gaze shifted to him as he approached, and she bared sharp little fangs.
“You care about Simon.” He said it as a statement not a question, but the demon’s eyes frowned in confusion.
“He’s important to Mother’s plans,” she said in a hiss. “If not for that I wouldn’t care if he lived or died!”
“Oh?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why don’t I believe you?”
The little demon hissed and bared her fangs once more but said nothing as he turned back to observe the witch’s work.
“Everything’s ready,” Evelyn said a minute later, as she pushed a thick lock of dark hair back behind one ear and scanned her notes one last time. “There’s one thing you should know, Lord. The return portal will take ten minutes on our side to open, but that could be one minute, ten seconds of five hours on the other side. There’s no way of knowing in a place outside of time.”
“She’s saying you can’t rely on it for escape,” Meryl voice was grim as she went on. “When this portal’s open, the dead may not pass through but anything living may… and there’s more than the dead in the lands of Hell. So, don’t open it anywhere stupid.”
“Got it,” Logan said, he shouldered his pack as Ly’Synthia handed it to him and scanned the group who would be traveling with him.
“You knew who would be coming… didn’t you?” Evelyn asked softly as she stepped in front of him and took her place corner of the pentagram. “How?”
“I’ve been having dreams or waking visions,” Logan replied. “Fate’s hand is on all this. All I did was to force them to reveal themselves.”
“You can’t toy with these forces Logan,” the witch whispered fiercely. The eyes of the others watching with concern but unable to hear what passed between the two. “Even Gods fear the Fates. Players with fixed positions on the board are never to be trifled with.”
The sweet and gentle young man she knew was absent from the hard eyed gaze that pinned Evelyn in place. He was finally accepting the title they’d thrust upon him, and instead of being put off by his commanding gaze; she felt her body trembling. Here were the first glimmers of what he was becoming, and she found it very pleasing.
Very pleasing indeed.
“I’m tired of being pushed and prodded. Especially when I have no idea what direction it’s toward. The Fates are no enemy of mine, nor are they friend. What they gave yesterday will be taken tomorrow, you said it yourself. And they have intent. That I mistrust.”
The witch’s expression was concerned, but she nodded up at Logan and patted his hand, sending a silent prayer to her goddess to watch out for the young man in the trials ahead, and turned back to the circle.
Talk of the Fates had set a stir amongst the elves, but the little demon girl watched Logan with more interest as the witches and Meryl began their incantations. The high elf looked the most offended, but Jex’Amina wasn’t far behind. Ly’Synthia on the other hand stared at her lord with the same worshipful expression she seemed to always hold, while Becca lounged against a bookshelf looking bored as she fiddled with the hilts of her blades.
Dawn sat against the back wall, hands clasped before herself as she prayed to her god that her son would return safe, while trying her hardest not to stare at the creatures out of myth and legend that stood around her. The psychologist was taking things as well as anyone could, accepting demon-girls and high elves with the same aplomb, but whenever her eyes strayed to witches with their identical eyes and massive, heaving bosoms, her eyes would bulge and cheeks heat.
Chapter 16
Logan put the rest of them out of his mind and focused on what he knew about the task at hand. That was frustratingly little, but he fingered the fetish Eris had fixed to his belt, reassuring himself it was there, as the purple and black magics leapt into existence. The witch’s chanting wove throughout Meryl’s words of command and the magic snapped into place with an angry hiss.
Reality rent aside, and the world was split asunder. Unlike with the Cauldron’s portal to the Realm of Fae, the gateway they opened now seethed and writhed, trying to tear free of their control. The small room was filled with a fetid reek and Logan coughed, his stomach lurching as it nearly heaved the contents of his lunch up onto his feet.
“Quickly!” Meryl hissed, arms quivering as she added her will to that of the witches.
“Be safe!” Gwen called from the far side of the circle and Evelyn watched Logan step past her with worried eyes until the young hero turned and she noticed the excitement burning deep within his pale blue eye. He was shouldering the guilt and responsibility, but a large part of him was looking forward to the quest, and that reassured the witch, though she couldn’t say why.
“Keep Dawn safe. We’ll return as soon as we’re able.” There was more in his eyes, but it was too much to be said in words and there wasn’t enough time. Snatching him close and ignoring Meryl’s angry hiss as she struggled with the magics, Evelyn stole a heated kiss from her lord’s lips before he leapt through the dingy gray portal on the heels of Ly’Synthia.
Becca offered the witch a wink before waltzing in after Logan, but the demon girl ignored them all as she followed the human, her sharp claws flexing with each step as her dark eyes darted around constantly. Iyllia hesitated, her upper lips rising in a rictus snarl as she felt the deathly aura rolling through the gate and got a full face of the awful reek.
“This is madness… I should have ignored the bastard and gone home… To Hell with some fat little mortal…”
“But you didn’t ignore him.” Evelyn said, “It was the first good thing you’ve done in centuries I imagine. Don’t falter now girl. Or were you happier with the lies you once lived?”
The proud elf didn’t deign to answer the witch, but her haughty air was a touch unsure as she edged forward through the gate. The elf wasn’t fully through before Meryl let out an annoyed hiss and helped her on her way with a blast of wind and let the gate snap shut with a sigh of relief.
“That was easier than I thought it would be,” the ancient sage said.
Turning to take in the mis-matched collection of women left behind, the witches were a bedraggled lot, hair in disarray and sagging with exhaustion like Meryl, the spell had taken more out of them than they’d let on to Logan and the others. Dawn looked lost as she sat on a bench, a line of rosary beads clicking through her fingers as she muttered silently to herself, and Jex’Amina couldn’t decide whether to be jealous or relieved that she hadn’t gone.
“We should get it ready in case they find the kid quickly. The beacon could flash any minute or hour-.” Reaching up, the sage gripped her skull as a stab of pain shot through her brain and to the center of her soul and where her mind met her magic.
Jex’Amina crumpled to the floor first. The dark elf’s head struck the floorboards so hard Dawn let out a shocked little cry and looked over, only to see the witches toppling over a couple seconds later, with hopeless, horrified expressions painted on their beautiful faces. A sharp gasp drew her gaze to the black-haired little sage, who sagged to her knees and gasped, her fists thumping into the ground as she fell forward.
“What’s going on? Is it Logan?! Are they ok?”
“The Left Hand of God has Fallen… to join the Right,” the ancient dark elf gasped, her voice so pain filled, and horrified Dawn filched. “Balance between heaven and hell… upset… An immortal’s blood spilled!”
The last words rose in a cry of shock. Her back arching and face rising to the hea
ven’s above and Dawn saw the little elf’s features for the first time, shocked as most were as their cherubic beauty, before the sage tolled over, unconscious.
“Hello…?” Dawn asked, rising to her feet and looking down at the five unconscious magic users and looking around the shadowy witch’s hovel with even more anxiety than she already had.
A dim flash drew her attention to the table where the redheaded witch had been working, to the gemstone she said would be the beacon to signal their return. Dull and lifeless just a moment before, it began to glow with an insistent light.
As irritating as the little elf had been since first meeting her, Dawn couldn’t deny how effective she’d been. Being a female in a male-dominated profession, she’d learned to appreciate a woman who could speak her mind and didn’t care who heard it. Finding a pulse on the elf’s neck, she was reassured to see her breathing easy.
“Heaven help us,” Dawn whispered, before pushing up her sleeves and getting to work.
Logan wasn’t sure what to expect when he stepped into purgatory, but an empty riverbed and weed covered hills wasn’t it. The stench still assaulted his senses, carried on a light breeze, along with a cloud of dust, but wasn’t as intense as it had been.
He found himself in a small depression in the midst of low rolling hills. The dry grasses and weeds covering the hills was broken up here and there by skeletal trees and bushes that looked long dead. An arched sign stood a dozen meters away. Its faded lettering was nearly illegible, but Logan could make out where it had once said ‘Welcome!’ if not the smaller words beneath it.
“A fell place,” Ly’Synthia observed, her spear held in the ready position.
“Scout the area,” Logan said, as Syn stepped through the portal followed by a strolling Becca.
“We already know what direction to go,” Becca said and when Logan cocked an eyebrow in question, she pointed to the fetish tied to his belt which stood out from his body, pointing towards the faded sign. “I’d say we go that way.”
“Ly’Synthia,” Logan said with a nod for the dark elf who started off, her eyes scanning the dusty ground and hills for signs of life.
“They are attacking my Simon!” The demon’s screech was so loud Logan flinched and raised a hand to try to quiet her, but the next cry was even louder, and her baleful eyes implored him. “Can’t you feel the assault on his mind?!”
“There’s no magic here, how can he feel anything? Now shut the fuck up while we…” but Becca trailed off when she saw the look on Logan’s face.
“She’s right,” he said, cocking his head to the side and frowning in the direction the fetish pointed. “It’s like a dark storm I can feel but not see… I can’t sense what it’s focused on though.”
“My Simon,” the demon whimpered.
“Can you sense anything Syn?”
The tall dark elf frowned and shook her head as she thumped the butt of her spear on the ground, a look of frustration passing over her features quickly. “I feel nothing in this place… but emptiness.”
“Nngh,” Iyllia grunted in agreement, before a frown of annoyance stole onto her face.
“You feel the same as Syn?” Logan asked the high elf, whose frown only deepened before she answered.
“All connection to Fae is gone. You’ve brought us to damnation itself, man. What did you expect? Let’s get this farce over with…” she glanced with distaste to a flake of ash that had settled on her shoulder and tried to brush it off, only to have it smear across her pale skin. “I feel unclean in this Realm, as if the eyes of something cruel were undressing me and sizing me up for the slaughter.”
“Nngh,” grunting in agreement before catching herself, Syn was careful not to look at the high elf as she continued hunting the ground for tracks. “There are faint impressions of tracks, but the winds have wiped most signs away. All heading in the same direction.”
“Keep your weapons close,” Logan said, reaching up to loosen his sword in its sheath. “We can’t be sure what to expect.”
With a nod, Syn ranged out ahead. Unwilling to march at the human sides, the high elf joined the dark in scouting their path, while Dystra fell behind. Logan tried to ignore the tickle in the back of his throat from the dry dust filling the air but an annoying, hacking cough began and wouldn’t disappear no matter how much water he drank from the bottle in his pack.
“It’s even more flavorless than normal,” Becca observed as she slipped her own bottle back into her pack. “Don’t think we can expect any five-star meals here. What do you think?”
“It’s not too bad,” Logan said, “At least you’re not a walking tomb this time.”
“That did suck,” Becca said, then shrugged. “Train ride was still the best vacation we took. All the wonderful sights…”
“Dancing on the roof…” Logan grinned over at his friend.
“Meeting new and interesting people…” Becca grinned back. “I wonder whatever happened to Kaiser. You think he survived?”
“I’m certain of it,” Logan said, his smile slipping.
“And Moran’D’Dreth,” Becca asked with a sly wink. “Wonder what that sucker is up to.”
“Sucker?”
“Blood sucker, cock sucker, whatever… From the way you described her she sounds like both.”
Logan was quiet after that, but his thoughts weren’t. The Vampire Queen was a reminder that he played with powers far deadlier than simple monsters. His mind was turning over these problems and others when he spotted Syn frozen in place, an expression of awe etched across her beautiful features. It only took a minute for them to catch up to the dark elf and see what shocked her.
Chapter 17
The gentle rolling hills gave way to a steep slope leading down to a field of massive buildings that stretched as far as the eye could see. Logan thought at first, he was looking at an ocean, until he noticed there was no shore only a wall of hundred story buildings that rose right from the dry, cracked ground.
The buildings were in slate gray, with narrow windows covering their sides that reached from the bottom floors to the top. Other than the windows there was nothing to differentiate one from another, which made it impossible to try to count how many there were. Each time Logan tried, he lost track after a few dozen.
“There must be millions,” Becca said, and the normally confident young woman’s voice sounded small and lost as she stared at the unending sea.
“A repository of lost souls,” Dystra said in a sibilant hiss. “Forgotten and ignored, like my own people.”
The demon spit to the side and glared up at the two elves towering above her. Ly’Synthia ignored the demon but the high elf shot her a glare and was opening her mouth to argue or cast an insult, but Logan spoke first, heading off their argument before it began.
“Finding Simon in all of that is going to be our fundamental challenge,” Reaching down, he pulled the fetish from his belt and frowned at the magic he felt tingling through his fingers. Eris had warned him the magic would be hidden from his senses in this place, and that what she’d tied into the fetish should work, but that he wouldn’t be able to manipulate it, as he had been able to in the Realm of Fae.
Only Logan could sense the magic in the fetish. He could feel magic within himself responding to the fetish’s proximity, but it was a subtle and faint thing. he might be able to reach into the small bit of wrapped cloth and change the intricate matrix of Fae within. Knowing little about the underlying principles the witch had employed, he would only ruin the spell if he tampered with it, but the possibility filled him with comfort as well as questions.
“The fetish is pointing towards the center,” Logan said, holding it up so the women could see where it pointed. “Syn, you carry it and scout us a path once we get down there. Stay close through. We have no idea what to expect and I don’t want us getting separated in there-.”
The ground gave a violent heave, throwing Logan and the women around. Becca and the two elves managed to stay on their
feet, but just barely, while Dystra and he were thrown down. Head ringing from where it had struck the hard ground, Logan had his sword out and was back on his feet before a second had passed.
Becca and the elves were faster. The high elf arched an eyebrow at the human girl’s glittering blades, and Logan saw she carried twin sabers of the same design, only longer. Syn held her spear cocked and ready to throw at the slightest sign of trouble, but Logan saw there was nothing in sight.
“What the hell was that?” Becca asked, but the elves were shaking their head and wore looks as disturbed as hers.
“Not in Hell,” Dystra said with a hiss of anger, then she cast her gaze upwards towards the featureless gray sky and barred her fangs. “The blow came from Above.”
“Above?” Iyllia asked with a sneer of contempt.
“Your Gods are small and puny things,” Dystra sneered. “But they have kept your people out of the real war. Not mine though. Mother still remembers the Fall and we hold to the old ways. The Blood ways.”
“Barbaric,” Ly’Synthia sniffed at the same time Iyllia said, “Savages,” and gave nearly an identical sniff of disgust as Syn.
The two elves glared at one another, but Logan ignored them and let his eyes bore into those of the little demoness. He knew the golden eyes had its own power, but he’d come to respect the effect a firm gaze could produce.
“What are you talking about?” Logan asked.
“The demon speaks of the First War.” Iyllia said with a sneer at the demon. “The ancient war between Heaven Above and Hell Below but she speaks nonsense. There is no way a demon could know.”
Dystra hissed in anger, and Logan turned on the little demon.
“Is what Iyllia say’s true? Or do you know more than she?”
“Believe your pretty elves, Lord,” the sneer in her voice was plain as she went on. “and I’ll keep my own counsel.”
Logan gave Dystra a considering look but realized she wouldn’t admit anything else, certainly not when the two elves were nearby. Turning to Syn, he motioned for her to lead on.
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