by Roy Bright
From somewhere out of the darkness, a voice bellows. “Good, Judas – excellent in fact. You are starting to understand, starting to get to grips with what you must do to control me, to submit to me.”
“Bring it, you piece of shit,” he says, angry, turning in circles trying to identify Azazel’s position.
The flash of white light returns, along with the taste blood and smell of copper, and as Judas crashes once more into furniture of some description he can’t help but think to himself, Well done, Judas. Well done you silly, gobby prick.
Twenty-Nine
In the far reaches of cold, uninhabitable space, millions of light years from Earth, four beings of immense power hurtle through the cosmos. Summoned with one purpose, one duty, for the Seals have been broken and whoever has done so will have control over them, with the ability to command them to do their bidding.
Beings as old as time, they are able to survive the harshest environment of space and travel from galaxy to galaxy. Their journey takes time, however, such is the distance they have still to cross – for despite all of their power, even they must conform to the laws of the universe. And so, to pass the time, they converse telepathically, drawing upon an energy that ripples through the universe, a conduit that allows access to a database, a cosmic library far beyond the understanding or comprehension of the lifeforms inhabiting the world for which they are bound. The universe itself is the supercomputer and they have a direct link to its central processor, its hard drives… its very essence, something that is available only to a certain few within the space-time continuum.
Shared among one another, they gorge upon the information at incomprehensible speeds, learning all they can about the period in time in which they will be interacting, wanting to know, to prepare themselves. They learn… everything.
One of them pauses. Something has caught his attention. A smile spreads across his face, and as it does one of his companions calls to him.
What is it brother, what has amused you so?
He stares at the information before him. This Iscariot seems… interesting. He may provide us with a modicum of entertainment.
The Horseman, Deaths’ smile is now at its broadest as he scans the data on the angel. His past, his betrayal, the first mission with Charlotte – everything.
Yes, he will provide much entertainment as we tear his world apart.
They smile to one another as they continue hurtling toward the Earth.
Thirty
Groaning, Judas rolls over, wiping blood from his mouth. His body pulses with pain. He hasn’t felt it with this much intensity since his defeat at the hands of Lucifer, and his mind drifts back to the battle with the Lord of Hell.
He groans further. He didn’t want to remember that.
He reaches down to his midsection and rubs it. Even though the wounds Judas received at the hands of Lucifer had healed without trace upon his ascendance, the mental imprint of them still managed to work its way into his mind from time to time – this being one of them. It was a little like the sensation that someone still feels in a lost limb: there but not there, begging to be touched, scratched, massaged. He runs a hand across his stomach once more, then props himself up on his elbow and stares into the direction in which Azazel stands, grinning at him.
“I see you’re thinking about Lucifer there, old boy!” he says, reverting to his human form and slicking back his hair with both hands as he walks toward him. “What an odd time to be thinking about the one who devastated you in battle. The only one to have truly hurt you. What an odd thing to think about while you fight me.”
Judas tries to smile but the pain means he can manage nothing more than a half-wince.
“What’s the matter Judas? You in pain, fella?” He laughs and kneels by his side as Judas struggles to get to his feet. “Now why would you be thinking about Lucifer? Is it because you are in as much pain as you were back then?”
“How could you possibly know these things?” Judas says, breathing heavily.
“Dear Iscariot. I am everywhere. I know everything. We demon swords are more than just weapons you know, we are keepers of time, every bit as much as the Ancient Ones. It is just that our destiny is to live our ‘down time’ here, within this unreality.”
Judas frowns, his forehead furrowed deep. Why did he refer to this as an unreality? He stabs the sword into the ground and uses it to push himself to his knees.
Azazel giggles, stands, and hops backward. “Ooo, I see you still have some fight in you. Okay, let’s see how much.”
The demon moves back, his motion theatrical while at the same time transforming into Lucifer.
Judas frowns again, staring at the creature he fought in the New Mexico desert: shirtless and covered in runic symbols. Something stirs within his mind, but before he has time to draw a conclusion from it the Lucifer version of Azazel attacks, motion-blurring behind him, almost catching him out and he has to be swift to avoid being struck. He raises his sword while at the same time spinning around to meet the one slicing down toward his head.
Imitation Lucifer bears down upon Judas, driving his face to his, grinning, his demonic teeth bared.
Their swords lock in a quivering cross, and Judas has to draw upon all of his strength to hold the demon at bay.
The thought returns, the notion that hit him a few seconds earlier, one so powerful that, even though he is under immense pressure from his attacker, he still finds the strength to engage the demon in conversation.
“You are not Lucifer,” he says, panting hard. “And you are not as knowledgeable as the Ancient Ones. You are a fucking liar.”
“Oh really,” Azazel says, his face angry. “And why would you say that? Haven’t I proven to you that I am fully aware of all your exploits, your misadventures, your failings? Have I not proven that my power is greater than those you fear the most, than the memories that haunt you?”
Judas closes his eyes and pushes against the demon with a burst of power, then ducks to the side, evading its attempt to slice into his face with its weapon. The misplaced attack causes Lucifer-Azazel to overreach, almost stumble forward, allowing Judas a window of opportunity and he takes full advantage of it, returning an attack of his own, swinging his sword in its direction. The demon blurs backward away from him. Judas wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and scowls at the creature. “You have proven nothing to me, demon. I am starting to understand. You are not all-knowing, not one bit. You simply have the ability to access the dark reaches of my mind and draw out past memories, then mold them to your will. You are not as powerful as the Ancient Ones, you fucking pathetic liar.”
Azazel reverts back to human form. His face is like thunder, cockiness replaced by anger, furious with Judas’ taunts.
“Pathetic? You call me pathetic, boy?” He straightens up, taking a deep breath and screwing up his face. “How dare you speak to me like that, you lowly dog. You are nothing to me, nothing but entertainment – something to relieve my boredom. But if it is my true form, my true power, that you seek, then so be it Betrayer. I will show you who I really am, and then I will devour your fucking soul over and over for the rest of eternity.” He shapeshifts, his limbs molding into his body, his clothes shedding and dropping to the floor. His skin color deepens into a muddy gray-brown with scales forming along its surface, and his size grows massive, transforming into a gigantic dragon serpent with fierce yellow eyes. He blazes at Judas. “Pathetic am I, Iscariot? What say you now, Betrayer? What say you of my real self, my true form? Are you scared, little angel? Do I terrify you?”
In truth, Judas is scared and his face shows it. He glances from left to right, then starts to back away from the terrible creature that continues to grow ever larger in front of him.
“Oh, are you looking for cover? Do you think that having somewhere to hide will save you?” Azazel roars with laughter. “You really are worthless, aren’t you Iscariot? And you still haven’t figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” h
e shouts, his face contorted with anger. “What are you talking about, beast?”
Azazel laughs once more and coiling his lower half, he leans over toward Judas causing him to retreat further.
He considers running, but where would he go? There is nowhere to run to or even hide. There is nothing to do other than stand and fight. But something that Azazel said still nags at him, still tugs at the back of his mind. What hasn’t he figured out yet? He looks at the ground, his eyes darting from left to right. His lips purse together and he breathes out through his nose, hard.
“Awww, what’s the matter little man?” Azazel says, hissing. “Have you still not got it? Do you need some help? Should I make this a little more… interesting?”
The ground around Judas shakes and cracks. Fissures of steam erupt as the featureless cavern breaks apart. The area beneath him tilts and yaws causing his arms to flail as he tries to maintain his balance. He stumbles back, almost letting go of the sword, then turns and runs to the opposite side of the cave as it continues to change and mold into new surroundings. A crevice rips open in the wall ahead of him, stretching upward as large chunks of rock break off and plummet to the ground. More splits appear and soon the entire wall has crumbled to the floor, revealing a barren landscape with rivers of bubbling and spitting molten lava.
The tremors cease, and as Judas turns in circles, looking all around, he starts to understand the place that Azazel has conjured. Hell itself.
He turns back, aware that he has taken his focus off the serpent, but it has disappeared, nowhere to be seen anywhere in the mountainous landscape. He turns again and there in front of him, where it hadn’t previous, stands an immense fortress of iron. Foreboding, terrifying, with an evil presence shimmering around it like a veil. He takes a deep breath and advances toward it, aware that it is the only refuge available for miles around, albeit an unwelcome one.
As he draws closer to the structure, the ground explodes a good distance behind him and out of it bursts Azazel, his transformation into the dragon-serpent complete. He rises into the air on massive wings.
“Fuck!” Judas shouts, turning back to the fortress. Aware that his heavy steel weapon would only slow him down he discards the sword and sprints toward the structure, using every ounce of strength available to him in a desperate attempt to outrun the demon. Terror floods into him as he feels the dragon-serpent approaching. He dares not turn back to see how close it is, fearful that it will have a damaging effect on his ability to outrun it. Instead he buries his head further into his chest and powers his legs forward with even greater intent. He tries to open his wings but he cannot. It seems that Azazel has somehow prevented him from using them within The Nether, another of the demon’s cruel jokes, and so he can do nothing but race over and around rocks in his path, the larger of which force him to scramble across them. He hears them explode behind him as Azazel grows even closer, smashing his way through the landscape, and he is very aware that the demon is now almost upon him.
The entrance to the fortress looms up ahead. Huge iron gates jutting out in front of the gateway covered in spikes with hundreds of bodies attached to them that writhe and scream in agony. The Song of Hell. A horrifying composition to accompany the terrifying pursuit.
He narrows his eyes and presses on. He might just make it, he is almost there.
Calling out, his eyes widen as he rises into the air, caught upon the snout of the dragon-serpent Azazel as it catches up with him and scoops him up.
Azazel cackles, powering him into and through the gates, obliterating them, exploding spikes and bodies everywhere, the screams of the tortured souls reaching a new level of cacophonous agony.
They burst into a courtyard and the demon snaps its head upward, launching Judas forward into the fortress’s main doors, sending him crashing through the wooden barriers that splinter under his weight. He tumbles across a stone floor and into a huge staircase, slamming up against the first step. Broken and dazed, unable to move, he stares at the ceiling as his body undergoes a spontaneous repair. If Azazel were to sweep in through the entrance and attack him, there wouldn’t be a single thing he could do to prevent being devoured and he knows it. He groans and glances around, aware that this moment is likely to be his last.
Nothing happens. Azazel does not burst through, there is no attack.
Judas flops back against the steps and breathes out hard. As the last of his repairs completes, he looks around and becomes aware that he has come to a halt on the precipice of a pathway with the staircase he is resting against leading up the side of a wall. The ground to the right hand side of the staircase is broken and missing as the rest of the room has long since crumbled away. He leans around the staircase and looks over the crooked edge to see the soft glow of lava far down below, and he realizes how lucky he has been to have hit the steps and not skid over the edge.
He looks back to the entrance. Still no Azazel. “Oh great, more games?” he asks quietly, propping himself up. He looks up at the stone flight of stairs and sees that they lead up to an archway, illuminated by a warm and peaceful white light that invites him to ascend. “Well,” he says, standing up, “that’s false advertising if ever I saw it.”
Although his sense of humor remains intact, he is still filled with a sense of dread and he checks around and behind him once more before climbing the stairs with trepidation. He stops and closes his eyes as Azazel’s voice echoes throughout the chamber.
“I want to play a game…”
“Really?” Judas says, arms outstretched, “Stop your bullshit, demon, and cut to the chase.”
Azazel roars with laughter. “Seriously, Judas, this has been more fun than I have had in centuries and I intend to enjoy it to the fullest. Would you care to see what is behind door number one?”
Taking a deep breath, his attention fixed on the white light of the archway above, Judas capitulates, climbs the steps, and then steps into a larger chamber. Ahead and far below him he sees an enormous stone maze. “For fuck’s sake,” he says, groaning.
“Enter my maze, Alice,” Azazel says, his voice enticing. “Come see what delights I have for you.”
Judas wipes his face and sighs, then starts the steep climb down. Now and again he is forced to stop and test the surface with his feet, such is the instability of the ground. Occasionally a step crumbles under his weight, forcing him to grip onto the rock face and it’s at times like this that he really wishes he had his wings.
At last he stands at the entrance to the gigantic maze and he gets a true feeling for its size – the entrance alone has to be 100 feet high and 50 feet wide.
“I wonder what’s lurking in there”, he mutters, as he steps inside.
He moves slowly through the maze from passageway to passageway, feeling as though he has been wandering for hours, frequently forced to retrace his steps as he winds up at one dead end after another. His patience is starting to wear very thin.
“What’s the fucking point of this?” he shouts into the air. “I’d rather just fight you.”
Silence.
“Answer me, demon. Answer me and show yourself!”
More silence.
He flops against the wall and slides to the floor where he runs his hands over his face in frustration, dirtying it further. He sits that way for a time, his knees up, his arms draped over them, staring up into the blackness and wondering how high the cavern walls stretch for. He laughs at himself for even considering such a thing, it’s not as though climbing would be an option, so what did it even matter? He closes his eyes and shakes his head. For crying out loud, Judas. You are losing it. Seriously, what is the point of all this?
“The point?” Azazel’s sly voice says, splitting the silence. “There is no point, Iscariot. What is the point in you?”
“What do you mean, what is the point in me?” he says, lifting his head up.
“Well, you think you are the world’s savior, its answer, but it seems that you’re not nor will you ever be.”
> He laughs. “Your mindreading skills are dwindling, fool. I’m not this world’s savior and I have never considered myself to be. That’s her job.”
“Is it? Is that what Gabriel told you?”
He frowns. What was that supposed to mean? He looks around, still not able to pinpoint Azazel’s location.
“True, it is Charlotte’s job to bring the world out of darkness, to guide it. But it is not her destiny to save it. That is yours alone, Judas. If you can defeat me, that is.”
He stands up, angry. “That is not the prophecy and you damn well know it, beast. Charlotte is the one to save the world, she is the one to bring humankind back from the brink, and she is the one to show them the way.”
“In the original timeline, maybe – but not here.”
The hissing voice comes from his left. He turns to it and moves forward and as he does he hears the rasping of scales against the ground. He stops, waiting for the next sound.
Silence.
He probes further, hoping to entice the demon into moving again so that he may get another fix on its position. “What do you mean, not in this timeline?”
The slithering changes position. It is now behind him.
He turns around.
Azazel hisses once again. “In the original timeline, the priest Mallory never betrayed her and so she went on to save humanity and all its wretchedness. But that never happened because of Father Mallory’s intervention, the pathetic and weak old fool, and as such his involvement altered future events. But you know this, Iscariot, Gabriel told you.”
“He never said that it would alter Charlotte’s destiny though.”
Another direction change and the slither is now to his right. He turns again.
“No, he didn’t, did he? Now what’s up with that? Why didn’t he ever mention it? Why didn’t your precious Council?”
Judas purses his lips and shakes his head.
