by Leo Romero
We’re riding along the underside of the Styx? That’s insane.
“Apologies,” Charon said, capturing my attention. “New riverways were laid down once Hell became active. It can be...confusing. Twisting and turning. Not how it was in my day. I would collect you at the source before a small ride down the Styx to the gates of Hades for Cerberus to greet you. Nice and simple. I blame the Romans, what with their roads and bridges and such nonsense. Pah, making things more confusing than need be.”
Charon got back to rowing while I was busy checking myself for third-degree burns. I was as cool as a cucumber. I stared down at the lava in confusion. Was that stuff even real?
I felt like reaching out and touching it but thought better of it. This Sharon guy had the magic when it came to that river of lava. I’d just have to have trust in him. Shame he was such a crazy SOB.
“Now, when it came to kinky buggers, you could not get worse than Dionysus!” Charon said, getting back on point. “A philanderer worse than his father! Not to mention a cross-dressing drunkard!”
I grabbed my forehead. I wished the boat had capsized for real back there.
Screw the world! The horsemen could have it!
Chapter 11
We continued along the river for what felt like an age, Charon gossiping non-stop about ancient Greece’s finest. We flipped over a couple more times, went up, went down, and even looped the loop. We bobbed along for a while longer before Charon brought the boat to a stop. He stabbed the boat floor a couple of times with his barge pole, and the lava rumbled. My eyes widened in terror as we were propelled upward by a gush of lava, acting like a geyser. We rose up in the air higher and higher until we came to an abrupt halt.
“Land ahoy!” Charon said.
I jumped into life. “What?”
“Hell. T’is not where you wished to go?”
I nodded.
Charon lifted an arm and pointed a bony finger to his right. My eyes fell on the rocky path parallel to the boat, a deep chasm either side of it. It wound up toward two huge, imposing doors set in a mountain of craggy rock. The gates of Hell. A shiver coursed through me.
“Home sweet home,” Draxil said.
I rose to my feet, and I got a head rush from being seated for so long. I grabbed my head while it passed.
Charon sighed. “Ah, remembrance of things past. To be a ferryman once more was a brief moment of joy. Many thanks for your custom, friend. No doubt it will be another millennia yet before another crosses my palm with silver.”
“It’ll fly by.”
“As long as I have the Bard to keep me company, I’m sure it will.”
I nodded, my gaze fixed on the gates of Hell.
“I pray you make it out of there unscathed,” said Charon.
I slowly turned to face him. “Thanks a bunch, buddy! Makes me feel much better about going in there.”
“My pleasure, friend. If you do manage to escape with your life, ring this, and I shall come and collect you.” He pulled a small copper bell from inside his robes. How much stuff did he have stored in there?
I took the bell and put it in my jacket pocket. “Thanks.”
“So long, friend. Oh, and do try to avoid too much trouble.”
“I’ll try,” I said as I clambered out of the boat and onto the rocky path. I faced the gates of Hell.
Behind me, Charon picked up his barge pole. “What does the silly bastard want to go to Hell for?” I heard him grumble to himself. “The youth these days...”
The boat shot down as the geyser of lava abated. I moved to the edge of the path and looked down. The boat and Charon fell for what seemed forever as they rejoined the Styx. Charon rowed off into the distance and vanished around the corner. I had another one of those shivers. I wasn’t exactly distraught to see the back of Charon and his damn mouth, but I was alone. In the depths of the Dark Underworld. Outside Hell itself. I turned to face the gates once more. Random balls of hellfire burned in the mountain face they were embedded in, illuminating the area. I gazed up; the mountain disappeared into darkness.
The whole place was silent, empty, bar an intense, low-pitched rumble, a machine-like churn that appeared to emanate from beyond those gates. I found it strange.
“How come there’s no one else around?” I asked Draxil. “Shouldn’t there be condemned souls here, entering Hell?”
“And give them the chance to escape before they’ve even entered?” Draxil retorted. “This is the entrance to Hell for those who are allowed to come and go as they please. Or for visitors.”
“Visitors? When’s opening time?”
“Hell is always open for those foolish enough to venture here, Stone.”
“You mean fools like me?”
“Like us.”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. Ahead of me was the last place an angel should be. I stared up at those monstrous doors in apprehension. I didn’t wanna go near there. I turned in a circle. Nothingness greeted me. A horrible, empty void of pitch black.
“Time waits for no one, Stone,” Draxil kindly informed me.
“What’s waiting for me in there, Draxil?” I asked.
“Hell. What else?”
“I mean, once I’m in, how am I gonna get out?”
“We’ll face that problem at the necessary time.”
“That’s not reassuring, Draxil. I mean, what if something happens to me in there?”
“Then we have failed in our mission, and the horsemen will destroy Earth.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“I will be your guide, Stone. I know that infernal place inside out. I will keep watch over you.”
“You better.”
“I will. Now go!”
I took a deep breath of hot, dead air, and set off up that winding path. As I went, I was getting this creepy vibe that the darkness surrounding me was closing in, like it had hands that were crawling up behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck sprang to attention like tiny soldiers. I felt like a prisoner heading for the gallows. It was depressing, the lowest point of my life, heading straight to Hell. I held up my light hand and tried to get light magic going. Nothing, not even a sizzle. On the other hand, my dark palm buzzed with a violet mist. I could feel the bile and anger brewing inside me, even though I wasn’t having angry thoughts. It was like an auto-response. I was heading toward the pit of hate itself and just being there was triggering the dark magic I’d been infused with. There was nothing good there, no light side. Just an eternal shadowy darkness that felt like it had a life of its own.
Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I’d be walking toward the gates of Hell. It was surreal, dream-like. I wished it were a dream, and that I’d wake up in my bed, and as an extension, for the whole angel thing to be a dream too, so I could just get back to playing poker with my buddies. No such luck. This shit was real.
“How the hell have I ended up here?” I said to myself.
“Bad luck,” Draxil answered.
I grumbled under my breath. As I drew near, those doors grew larger like they were living things. Then I saw that they were moving. No, writhing. I made out faces. Old, young, men, women. Twisted and tormented, strained with anguish. They wailed soundlessly before melting back into the doors for new faces to form. The agony encapsulated on those visages made my skin crawl. Were they locked in there for eternity? Man, it made me want to become a monk just to make sure I didn’t end up like them. Mind you, that would mean giving up worldly pleasures like beer. I didn’t know if I could live without beer.
That rumbling intensified to the point where it was like a little imp in my head was shaking my brain up and down. My dark arm tingled with more intensity. My fist clenched and unclenched of its own accord, now shrouded in violet mist, raring to go.
Down boy! Down!
I looked from my evil arm up at the gates now towering over me. Up so close, I could see they were flesh-colored, riddled with blue veins and purple arteries. They pulsed and
throbbed like a heart. Those faces continued to emerge and swirl before waning. I stared at them in sorrow and disgust in equal measure.
“Can all creatures end up here?” I asked Draxil, gazing up at those colossal gates.
“Only those with souls. Humans.”
“Fae?”
“Pah, they have no souls. The creatures borne of magic are just that. Magic.”
“What happens when they die?”
“The magic inside them floats back to the magical ether to reform into new beings.”
“They’re reincarnated?”
“It could be described as such.”
I sighed and looked around for a handle or a doorknob or something. There was nothing. “How do we get in?”
“The etchings on your arm are the key.”
I pulled up my jacket sleeve to see cyan light blazing off my forearm. I held it out ahead of me toward the gates. The light from the etchings grew more intense, so intense I had to squint against it. The gates pulsed and throbbed faster and harder in tune with my etchings. There was a harsh tear as the gates pulled apart. They eased inward, exposing Hell beyond. I watched them go, my heart thudding hard. A visceral darkness spilled out from the widening gap. Its tentacles reached my feet and greedily ate them. It ran up my body, bringing with it a crypt-like iciness. I closed my eyes briefly and shivered, hating the sensation, my instinctual response to be repulsed and sickened. The bile in my stomach turned.
I opened my eyes again to see the gates were fully open. The etchings on my arm dulled slightly.
And now Hell awaited me.
“Go inside, Stone,” Draxil ordered.
“Here goes,” I said and took a tentative step toward the darkness. I breached the threshold, and it actually felt like a feral animal was chewing me up. As I went by, those faces in the gates glared at me, wide-eyed, some of them shaking from side to side as if to say ‘no, don’t go in there!’
The terror and concern etched into their expressions was stark, a vivid warning. But there was no turning back now. I briefly closed my eyes. Please let me come back out alive.
The darkness swallowed me whole, and I was an angel in Hell.
Chapter 12
I waved my hands out ahead of me, trying to claw through a darkness that felt like cobwebs smothered in ancient coal dust. But it was an illusion. I couldn’t touch it, but in my mind, it was definitely touching me, tickling and scraping my skin. I squirmed and wriggled, but the sensation wouldn’t leave. All the while, the gates were closing behind me, any small amount of light from outside diminishing by the second. Panic signals fired in my frenzied mind. Beetles and roaches crawled over my skin, climbing in my mouth and up my nose. I swatted them off and spat them out, but they kept on coming, their legs tickling and clicking in my ears.
The final remnants of light were cruelly cut out as the gates closed behind me, and I was alone in that void, my skin continuing to crawl, the rumbling churning away like the heart of a demon.
Where the hell am I? I screamed in my mind. The tick-tick-click of insects continued unabated, pushing me to the brink of insanity. I threw my head back and screamed out in the darkness, my arms outstretched. The etchings on my forearm flared into life, and bright-purple mist streamed from my palm. The effervescent glow from the etchings sent the darkness retreating like a scared cat. It slinked back, taking the insects and crawlies with it.
I snapped open my eyes. Hell’s foyer stood ahead of me; a wasteland of rock and fire. A rocky, barren path led into the distance, vanishing into a colossal wall of flames that illuminated the vast cavern in a blood-red glow. Broken and decrepit monuments stood to attention either side of me. Arches etched with arcane symbols. Effigies of demons once guarding the pathway, now broken and forgotten. A thing with tentacles sprouting out of what remained of its head glared down at me with hateful eyes. Its lips were pulled back in a snarl, its fangs clenched, snout wrinkled. I cringed back against it, half-fearing it would come to life and attack.
I turned in a circle, gathering everything in. There wasn’t much. Just flames and darkness and walls of fire. And that was when I realized the walls of flames were in the shape of a crude circle. The First Circle of Hell?
One thing was clear about that place. There was no life anywhere. Only this strong sense of death, the aroma of it permeating the rotten air. Sulphur and ashes. And that constant rumble, that unpleasant pressure on my mind.
I was alone. Trapped in Hell. Dread swelled in my mind, but I tried my best to keep my cool.
“What now?” I whispered to Draxil. The moment I did, the eyes on the statue looming over me ignited a bright, scarlet color. The tentacles on its head started to writhe like Medusa’s snakes.
“What is your business here?” a voice rasped from the statue. The sound of it made my skin crawl.
“It’s Atazoth,” Draxil told me. “He guards the gates and the portals that connect the Circles. Do not trust him!”
“Thanks for the warning. I was just about to give him my Facebook password.”
“State your business in Hell, stranger!” Atazoth rasped louder.
“Show him your etchings and tell him you wish to enter the Fourth Circle,” Draxil told me. “Don’t tell him where you received the etchings.”
I pulled up my sleeve and showed him my demonic ink.
Atazoth’s scarlet eyes glowed brighter. “The etchings of Hazatar,” came that voice. “From where did you receive those?”
“Uh—”
“Don’t tell him!” Draxil snapped.
Man, what do I say? I had to think of something.
“I...got it from...my local tattoo artist,” I said, not knowing what I was saying. “He’s uh, a fan of these parts and all things Satan. In my world, we mark ourselves for all kinds of reasons. I’m a traveler of worlds and dimensions. I want access to the Fourth Circle. Hence why I have these arcane markings. Now, let me pass.”
I jutted out my chin, even though my heart was hammering. I wanted to look arrogant and full of pride, qualities I was sure would go down well in Hell.
“The etchings of Hazatar are an ancient secret. Only the most foul can wear them and not go insane.”
“Well, that sounds like me to a tee. The foul part, not the insane part. At least not yet.”
“Yet you reek of light and divinity. You cannot pass through the portals. Your soul will flay and render in the slime. Turn back. Discard the etchings. This is not the place for you.”
I was suddenly offended. Not the place for me? Who the hell did this asshole think he was?
“Hey, asshole!” I shouted up at him. “I’ve spent an age stuck in a boat on a stinking pit of lava listening to the ramblings of an insane ferryman to get here. There’s no way I’m turning back now. I want into Hell. Now I can’t believe I’m actually saying that, but it’s the damn truth.” My legs started to shake with rage. My dark arm juddered. Incandescent ire burned in my mind like an inferno. Without me even trying, dark, violet steam swirled off my hand; the etchings glowed and twisted and turned. I glanced down at my hand; a giant globule of pure hate was hovering over my palm, bloated and angry.
“Now if you don’t let me in and take me to the Fourth Circle, you’re gonna get this fat shitball right in the face!” I sneered. I bounced the ball up and down a couple of times as I sized Atazoth up.
Atazoth arched his head back as a leery grin spread up his face, making two tongues pop out of his mouth and wiggle in opposite directions. “Ha! You are amusing. It will be a joy to watch you succumb to your fate! Come, worm, enter the Circles. You will regret it, and your eternal suffering will be a brief moment of pleasure. Step forward.”
Was this guy for real? Laughing at me and insulting me. Worm? Maybe I should throw the shitball at him anyway!
The tentacles on his head writhed with more ferocity, and the ground just ahead of me opened like a sinkhole. I hopped back in fear, much to the delight of Atazoth. His cackles grated on my nerves. My reaction was i
nstinctual. I slung the shitball right at the asshole’s head. The ball exploded on impact, the purple gunk splattering over him. There was a hot sizzle and steam, which stopped his laughter dead.
I gave him a nod. “Not laughing now, are you?”
“Fool. You cannot harm a statue with dark magic.”
My grin faded.
“Now who is no longer laughing,” Atazoth said, that purple gunk still sizzling off him.
I pulled out Bam Bam, aimed at his head, and pulled the trigger. One of Atazoth’s tentacles obliterated under the impact, leaving a small cloud of ancient stone dust hanging around his head. I blew the smoke off Bam Bam’s muzzle and holstered her. I nodded in appreciation. “Good to know bullets work against you. Now, be nice, or I’ll waste the rest of you.”
“Hmm, maybe you have what it takes to survive the portals,” Atazoth told me. “Very well. The Circles await, vagrant.” The sinkhole had by then widened into a small, circular pit, filled with a clear, syrupy liquid. “Enter and meet your eternal doom!”
Man, a regular ‘welcome’ would do. This guy really had to brush up on his PR. I stepped to the edge of the pit and looked down. That gloop bubbled and undulated. “What do I do?”
“You enter the pit of molten cartilage, fledgling, and meet your—”
“Doom,” I finished. “Yeah yeah. I got it!” I stared down at that gunk in apprehension.
“You’ll have to go in, Stone,” Draxil told me.
I sighed. “Yeah, I know. It’s always the same. Fight the demon, save the world, jump in the pit of molten cartilage.” I took a deep breath. “Here goes!” I reached out a foot and shifted my weight onto it. By the time alarm bells erupted in my mind, I was falling down into that pit. My foot hit the gunge; it was soft and mushy.
“Going down!” Atazoth said and burst into cackles.
The molten cartilage sucked me up like quicksand. The world turned thick and gelatinous as I was pulled down, the echo of Atazoth’s laughter receding in my mind as I went.
