by Megan Cutler
“We concluded our negotiations with a toast. I checked the wine, of course. He must have laced it with water from the river Lethe. I'm not sure my powers could have detected it, even if I had been looking for such a specific threat.” It hadn't actually harmed her, after all. “Perhaps I should have known better than to drink it at all. I should have been more suspicious of how smoothly the meeting went.”
“He did keep his end of the bargain,” her father pointed out as he set his fork aside. His plate was empty.
Kaylie's was still half-full, the contents rapidly cooling. She forced herself to eat a few more bites, keenly aware of waste in a way she hadn't been before.
“I'm not sure he ever intended to harm our people. I think now he meant to lure me into Hell, though I can't fathom why. The Lethe took everything from me. I woke up on the shores of the Styx believing myself dead and damned like everyone else. I lost access to my power because I couldn't remember its presence, let alone how to wield it.” She cursed herself now for not trying harder to follow Moril's advice. Her own disbelief had hindered her magic.
“So we were right to send Moril after you.”
Kaylie squeezed her eyes closed. If her beloved hadn't followed her, he wouldn't be trapped in that abyss. At every step of the path she could have prevented this tragedy. Why hadn't she been more careful?
She found sympathy in her father's eyes when she looked at him again. “Yes,” she admitted. “My next memory is of waking on the shores of the Styx. I met a man there named Eselt, who took me into his clan and protected me.” She told the rest of the story as quickly as possible, avoiding some of the dire moments as well as her growing affections for Arimand, focusing instead on the most relevant details. There would be more time for discussion later. Besides, she didn't feel like baring her soul at the moment.
“I'm certain now the King of Hell disguised himself as a damned soul.” She didn't dare speak Arimand's name. If it was an alias of the devil, it might well draw his attention to their conversation. Everyone knew that speaking Lucifer's name acted like a beacon, echoing their words to his ears, but Kaylie didn't know how many of his other names bore the same effect. 'King' was such a common word that scrying for the phrase 'King of Hell' would be nigh impossible, even for a god.
“He convinced me he could free my soul to Heaven and I fell for it, fool that I am.”
“An empty mind is easily led,” her father soothed. “Without experience to draw on, how could you have determined otherwise? From what I understand, he fooled your companions, did he not?”
“That he did.” Clenching her hands into fists, Kaylie laid them on her lap. She fought to maintain the dignified royal air she'd been taught to present no matter her current emotional state. Beneath that thin veil, she seethed. She could not rest, not truly, until Moril returned home.
“Father, Moril's failure to wake likely indicates that he has been taken to the dungeons beneath Chelal Ogdul. We must find a way to free him.”
Her father's eyes darkened. “You know not what you ask, Daughter.”
Kaylie bit the inside of her lip against a sharp retort. She straightened her back, squared her shoulders and set her jaw. “I have spent more time in Hell than any mortal can claim. I could re-write every tome our family has written on the damned realm. No one knows better than I what I ask.”
Her father did not recoil from her ire. “And who will do this deed?” he countered, his voice sharp as a whip. “You alone possess the power necessary to breach Hell's border. Am I to send you back when I have only just recovered you? When you cannot say the full intent of the devil's plans? And leave Corvala at risk of losing its sole heir?”
Kaylie's cheeks burned. In her desperation, she had lost sight of her responsibilities. Moril hadn't risked his soul to cast her back into danger, but that only increased her determination to set him free. When the safety of her people was assured, when the war had been dealt with and things returned to normal, there would be time to bring him home. But how long could the mages sustain his body before it faded or their spells failed?
“There must be a way to send someone in my stead. Moril was able to go.”
“We believe Moril could only follow you because you were already in the damned realm. Your own studies prior to your departure concluded there is no way to open a door for the passage of others. Should you transport another soul to Hell and return without them, you would only be stranding another innocent. Moril knew the risks. He and I spoke of this exact eventuality and agreed on the proper course of action.”
Kaylie's heart thundered in anticipation of the answer. She scrambled to find words to interrupt, but they evaporated as they passed her lips.
“In the event you returned alone, Moril asked me to remove your temptation to return for him.”
Kaylie could not force her lips or tongue to function. She had to be dreaming. She pinched herself beneath the table, but it changed nothing aside from leaving a slight sting in her thigh. “What are you saying?”
“I am sorry, dear child. But if Moril is not back by sunset tomorrow, he must die.”
Chapter Twenty-Four: Trapped in the Dream
“You cannot do this, Father!” Abandoning all pretense of decorum, Kaylie swept to her feet, knocking a ceramic dish to the floor. Shards shot across the room.
“I can, and will do what I must to protect Corvala.” Her father's expression was unyielding. He may as well have been carved from stone.
No temper tantrum would move him. She needed to provide a logical argument.
“Moril has been in your service since he was old enough to wield a sword. Is this how you intend to repay his loyalty? The years he spent protecting our family?” It was hard to keep her voice from pitching toward panic.
“Make no mistake; I understand the consequences of this decree. Were the two of you wed, I would have considered him my son. Moril was a great man. The entire kingdom will mourn his loss. He knew his duty and he filled it. For that, he will be remembered.”
Was. Her father's choice of words enraged her. Kaylie wasn't ready to think of her beloved in the past tense. She clenched her fists tighter, driving her sharp nails into the tender flesh of her palms. “Allow his body to live, that's all I ask! At least give us a chance to comb the libraries, to consult the mages, to try. I promise to keep myself out of danger. I've no desire to return to the damned realm, but we cannot simply abandon-”
“You said it yourself, Kaylie,” the king's tone was ominous as he slid to his feet. “You are now the family expert on Hell. Do you honestly believe you can find an answer that will not put you at risk?”
Her mind raced for an answer. But she could think of nothing that would not be a lie. Short of summoning the Angelic Avengers for aid, she could think of no way to breach Hell's borders and remain in the mortal realm. And the old gods were notorious for refusing to answer prayers, despite Corvala's grand history.
Her silence seemed to satisfy her father. “Say your goodbyes, Daughter. I do not want you to witness what must come to pass.”
~*~*~*~
Agony threatened to split Moril's skull before he opened his eyes. The pulsing throbs beneath his temples made him long for cold oblivion. His arms ached. His back stung. His feet struggled and failed to find purchase. He opened his eyes slowly.
The prisons of Sammorc might be paradise compared to this. His brief glimpse inside one of the fortresses had revealed huge cells crowded with chained prisoners and well-lit hallways patrolled by demon wardens.
The catacombs beneath Chelal Ogdul were vast beyond comparison, though he recalled only brief flashes of his journey through the tunnels. The only light came from torches and lanterns spaced so far apart they left wide swaths of shadow in between. Without the eyes of a demon, it would be impossible to navigate those corridors.
While the brutes dragged Moril and his companions through the dark stone corridors, screams and sobs emanated from every closed door. He couldn't guess the location
of their cell and wouldn't know which way to run if he could get out.
Moril tried to lift his head with a slow, smooth movement, but it didn't spare him the stabbing sensation in his skull. His body hung suspended from a pair of thick chains attached by manacles to his wrists. Kaylie's companions hung beside him, their backs pressed to the cold stone walls of their prison. Moril wasn't sure how many had survived. He counted heads, but the cell seemed to have a different number of occupants every time he woke.
“Best go back to sleep, lad.” The scratchy voice belonged to Eselt, former leader of the expedition to free Kaylie from Hell.
They had shared a few whispered conferences since their arrival in Chelal Ogdul. If only Moril had been able to approach Eselt in human form from the start, his mission would have been easily fulfilled. From what he understood, Eselt had been fiercely protective of his fiancée during her tenure in Hell.
“Oblivion is better than what you'll find here.”
“I would if I could.” Moril swallowed, attempting to ease his sore throat, but his mouth had turned into a desert. His stomach growled and clenched, a reminder he hadn't eaten in days. He couldn't count the number of cuts, bruises and scratches covering his body, earned during the many hours of torture he had endured since his arrival. And a vast number of days stretched ahead compared to those which lay behind.
“Awake, I see.”
Moril gritted his teeth as the King of Hell sauntered into their cell, a wicked grin on his face. That eerie, otherworldly light still illuminated his red skin. He wore his bat wings folded about his shoulders like a cloak and he had traded his tattered clothing for a nobleman's finery. Its colorful embroidery was so detailed, Moril could barely stand to look at it.
“It would be a shame if you missed My visit. These moments are special.”
“Be gone, foul creature.” Eselt spat in the demon's direction. How did his body summon the moisture?
The spittle fell short of its goal, splattering uselessly on the uneven floor.
Lucifer clicked his tongue. “Is that any way to treat your host? And when you've so many questions to ask of Me?” He produced a golden goblet out of thin air and settled backwards. A padded leather armchair materialized to catch his weight. “It's generous of Me, isn't it Moril, to offer the condemned a chance to question their captor?”
“Don't rise to his bait, lad,” Eselt hissed beside him.
Moril inclined his head slightly. He knew better than to speak without thought. If only some portion of Kaylie's power remained with him! Landing a single strike against Hell's lord would please him eternally, even if it did no lasting damage. He was not yet broken.
“We did agree on one question, didn't we, Eselt?” Moril didn't wait for the other man to answer. His eyes narrowed on the demon as he sipped from his glittering chalice. “Why Kaylie? What did you want with her?”
Lucifer's smirk vanished and his blood-red eyes narrowed. He must have expected his prisoners to beg for mercy. Perhaps Moril had struck a nerve.
“I thought he was going to answer the question,” Eselt jeered into the silence.
“Silence, scum.” With a flick of his wrist, the King of Hell summoned a demon from the shadows. With a malicious grin it stalked forward, striking Eselt across the chest with a whip. The short man only grunted in response.
“If this is the answer you so desperately seek, then it is the one you shall have,” Lucifer announced as the demon swung its cruel whip a second time. “Kaylie was to be My bride.”
Moril barked a laugh. “She would never have agreed.”
The whip struck a third time. Eselt panted, resisting the urge to scream.
Lucifer's grin returned. “Wouldn't she? She was quite smitten with Arimand. She had already admitted she didn't wish to leave Hell without him. What if he had asked her to stay? She might be here now.”
“Her love for you would have been a lie.”
The whip cracked again, as if to highlight Moril's retort. Eselt choked on a muffled cry.
Lucifer sipped from his goblet. “Why should I care? I am the King of Lies. Besides, the most powerful lies are born from truth.”
Moril bit his tongue. There was no point disputing the demon's words. No doubt he had received only half an answer, probably to bait him into making a fool of himself. Unfortunately, when Moril remained silent, Lucifer turned his attention to Eselt.
“I practically handed her into your care, My dear Eselt. All you had to do was give her back to Me. But you simply could not. Always the righteous protector.” As Lucifer rose, his jeweled chalice and comfortable chair vanished. He pushed his demon minion aside and slid a sharp claw down one of Eselt's cheeks before a blood-red hand clamped around his neck and squeezed.
“Do you remember the day you called Me a liar? Come to think of it, I was lying. It just wasn't the lie you anticipated. Isn't this a glorious experience, Eselt?”
Eselt choked and sputtered, unable to respond. He thrashed, wrists twisting against their manacles. Had he been alive, he would have suffocated by now. But Hell offered no escape from such torment.
Moril turned his head. The sharp motion drove a spike of agony through his temples, but the least he could do was offer his companion some dignity.
“Poor Eselt,” Lucifer taunted. “There's no one left to beg mercy for you. You can thank this one for that.” As the King of Hell released Eselt's neck, he delivered a backhanded slap to Moril's face. His sharp nails bit flesh at the end of the swing.
Moril tasted blood on his tongue; something to moisten his mouth, at least. “It wouldn't matter. A creature such as you is incapable of mercy.”
Lucifer backed away, lips curled with disgust, eyes flashing challenge. His demon servant knelt in the shadows, awaiting further orders while the devil scanned his suspended captives. His eyes fixed on Dwenba.
Instantly, Moril regretted his words. The party's sole female member was least deserving of the demon lord's ire. She had not escaped Hell's tortures since their arrival, though she had yet to speak.
Lucifer laid a slender finger at the base of her chin, his sharp nail turned aside, resting mere inches from her neck. Dwenba tried to shrink away, but her chains restricted her movement.
“Don't-” Moril started, but Lucifer spoke over him.
“You were kind to Me during my human tenure, Dwenba. And you were a fine companion to My intended.”
“Leave her alone, you wicked wretch!” Eselt snarled, earning a coughing fit for his efforts. “You have… no reason to… torment her!”
Moril opened his mouth to voice agreement, but the words fled along with his breath and the rest of his senses followed. Fire ignited across every inch of his body. It burned quickly, leaving a numbness tingling in each of his limbs. He felt adrift, robbed suddenly of whatever anchor allowed others to orient themselves within the universe.
With dread certainty he knew the force binding his living body and soul had been severed.
He recovered slowly, at first aware only of intense pain rooted in his neck and chest. His body felt strange and foreign. It took great effort to move his fingers and toes. Rich laughter filled his ears as consciousness returned.
“What did he do to you, lad?” Eselt's gruff voice guided him through the last of the haze.
“I?” Lucifer purred, laying one hand against his chest. “I have done nothing. In the land of the living, Moril's mortal fire has been smothered. Without a body to return to, his soul will remain Mine for eternity.”
“Damn you,” Moril muttered. But it was an empty curse. It was no ill turn that King Serdray had fulfilled his final request. A sharp axe, a swift strike and all of Kaylie's temptations would be forced to evaporate. She was home. She was safe. It was a worthwhile sacrifice. How long that would sustain him, he didn't know, but he had fulfilled his mission. For now, it was enough.
“That is My job,” Lucifer snorted. “Let us return to the topic at hand; this baseless allegation that I am incapable of mercy.�
�� He snapped his fingers and the chains binding Dwenba disappeared. His demon servant rose and stood at his side, but neither touched the woman.
Dwenba collapsed the moment her feet touched the ground. For several minutes she lay on the floor, head curled toward her chest, rubbing life back into her wrists and ankles. She rose slowly, bracing herself against the wall, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
Lucifer waited with surprising patience, turning to his minion only after she stood. “Take her up to the house. Support her if she needs assistance but leave her be otherwise. Make certain there is a hot bath and fresh clothing waiting for her when she arrives.” He flicked his fingers toward the door, an obvious gesture of dismissal.
The demon bowed and turned to leave without looking in Dwenba's direction. She cast a hesitant glance around the room, receiving several encouraging nods from the other captives before she followed. But was it relief or fear that made her comply?
“She will become a guest of Mine,” Lucifer announced when the door closed in Dwenba's wake. “No one will treat her poorly. Perhaps I will allow her to visit you one day and present proof of My claim.
“So you see, Moril, I can be merciful when I choose. It is My will and whim that rules here. Try to keep that in mind.”
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Way to Hell
Kaylie swept into her room and secured the bolt on her door. Unsatisfied a small strip of iron could hold intruders at bay for any length of time, she scanned the room for sturdy furniture she could move. A desk and a couple of chairs didn't make much of a barricade, but it would have to do. For good measure, she upended a bookshelf to block the servants' entrance.
She paused next to her bedroom window, staring for a moment at the bright horizon. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying not to relive the morning's events.
After the argument with her father, she spent the night scouring the palace library. She tore through every book that offered the remotest possibility of saving her beloved, but her father ignored every messenger she sent.
