Cinderella's Inferno

by F. M. Boughan

  “Be not deceived,” he said, but I desired no further conversation, and so I passed beneath the arch.

  The instant we crossed the threshold, everything changed. No longer were we surrounded by quiet darkness in a peaceable sort of afterlife. A gust of wind screamed past our party—quite literally screamed—and blew onward in a puff of white smoke. But that wasn’t right. Wind had no voice, save that given to it when rushing through trees or buildings, of which there were neither in this place. We walked without speaking, wondering at the dearth of spirits. Had we not seen so many only moments before coming to the arch? Where were they now?

  In time, we came to a wide, open plain covered in greenish-blue dried grass. It was empty, save for one sight of note: rising into the air directly ahead was an enormous, gray whirlwind.

  It rose like a pillar, far across and so much taller than my eyes could take in at once, spinning and twisting. As we came closer, I noticed how we took greater and greater care with each step, for the air seemed to grow heavy and foreboding as we approached. My throat thickened, and a strange warmth bloomed inside my abdomen. I glanced at William in alarm only to find him staring at me, mouth agape like a hooked fish. I looked to the others, who stared at the column—save for my father, who strode unburdened with his brow furrowed. The howl of revolving wind grew louder, but the closer we came, the clearer were the wind’s screams. It wasn’t simply the shriek of blowing air that came from the whirlwind … rather, it was the sound of many anguished voices.

  The whirlwind was made of spirits. They moaned and cried out in despair, in words I recognized and many I did not. I narrowed my focus on the spiraling column and saw the spirits were enduring a torturous existence as they spun inside the tumultuous winds.

  These spirits reached for each other, clawing their way through the winds like birds fighting against stormy air, hands outstretched in desperation. They struggled to reach one another and then, the instant before they might touch, were blown apart by a mad gust, a current that separated their contact. They found no comfort, no rest, and yet they could not—or would not—cease striving to reach the object of their desire. I found myself stepping closer to William as their agony became mine, but in a … strange and unexpected way. The warmth spread to my belly and elsewhere. William’s fingers brushed my own and I gasped at the pleasing sensation of fire crawling across my skin.

  No. Not here, not now. Not when we had already made a promise to each other.

  “What’s happening?” I breathed, my words tense and strained. Sweat dotted my forehead and neck, and my legs grew weak as the longing surged with unbidden thoughts of William’s kiss inside the prison. Of his hands upon my bare flesh, his lips at the nape of my neck. His fingers trailing the length of my back as he one day lowers me onto the marriage bed, hovering above me—

  “No!” I shouted the command and withdrew my hand. What was I thinking? Where were these thoughts coming from? I couldn’t indulge in pleasures while my mother suffered, let alone break my promise with William. Something was wrong. But when I looked at William to express concern, I had only a chance to take a breath before his mouth found mine. I might have resisted, but his skin against my own sent all other thoughts spinning away like a Kreisel. All my thoughts were William, William, William.

  And then, coarse fur brushed my fingertips and the whine of a neglected canine cut through my delirium, pulling me back to what was true. I was in control, not this place—for what else could it be that had this effect on us?

  “Lust,” I said, the answer coming easier now that I had a measure of clarity. Rather than respond, however, William lunged forward, and I pressed him back. A low growl from Hund’s throat caused the prince to pause and, once I was certain my betrothed had been momentarily pacified, I turned to the others.

  They stood at the edge of the whirlwind, mesmerized.

  I rushed to my father’s side first, intending to draw him away, but he needed no assistance. He regarded me with sadness instead.

  “She’s not here. This place belongs to the uncontrolled, to those who lust after forbidden flesh.” My cheeks warmed to hear my father speak of such a thing. Had he seen William and I just now? But he smiled gently at my embarrassment. “Oh, daughter. I know we’re not much for speaking these things aloud, but if we can’t talk of it here, of all places, then where? Carnal desire isn’t a sin, but a part of us. Your paladin can confirm, as I’m certain he’s read the Song of Solomon, yes?”

  William blinked at my father’s address, as if trying to shake off a long sleep.

  “Caught? Interesting. Take care with him, Ellison. You and I … well, you said it yourself to Charon. These others, however … ” His gaze flicked to Peter, Lorenz, and Samia. Samia stood stoic, unaffected. How could that be so? But Lorenz watched her with a blatant longing, and Peter … what was Peter doing? No, my eyes didn’t deceive me.

  Peter reached for the whirling column. A womanly spirit, shapely and enticing with black eyes and a welcoming smile on her red lips, waited for him inside the whirlwind.

  “No!” I cried. “Peter, stop! Father, help me!”

  “Hold him back!” My father ran with me alongside the swirling winds, waving and shouting at the others, but William and Lorenz remained stiff as statues and consumed by their own agonies. Samia bolted after us, but she had stood further afield.

  “Lila,” Peter whispered. “Is it really you?” And in that moment, I knew we were too late. His fingers brushed the edge of the spinning winds, and in an instant, he was taken. The vortex sucked him inside and sent him twirling end over end within its center. The woman he’d reached for spun alongside him. They grasped for each other, desperate for the other’s touch.

  A gust of wind shot past me—but no, it was William, lucid now and calling his friend’s name. His hand stretched out, as if to snatch Peter from the storm and draw him back, but Lorenz grabbed William’s arms from behind as a cry rose from my throat.

  “You can’t save him!” Lorenz shouted. “He’s gone. He made his choice.”

  “A rope!” William cried, twisting in Lorenz’s grasp. “Search for something to throw so we can pull him out.”

  “And risk drawing out the wrong person?” Lorenz waved at the column. “Do you even see him? How many spirits are inside this storm? How do you know the rope and the person at the other end won’t be pulled inside also?”

  “We can’t lose him. He can’t be gone.” William yanked his arm from Lorenz and stared into the winds. “He was just here a moment ago.”

  “Any one of us might have succumbed,” my father lied, though I knew it was a kindness. “He was lost the moment he gave himself over to lust.” He stopped in front of William, blocking his view of the winds. “Aleidis isn’t here, and we all stand risk of being taken by our desires. We should proceed.”

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?” William took his medallion between two fingers, as if it could reach into the whirlwind for him and draw out his friend. “Shouldn’t we be safe?”

  My father rubbed his chin with the back of his hand and grimaced. “We’re far removed from divine grace here, son. Nothing and no one is safe.”

  Samia clapped William on the shoulder. “Come, Will. This isn’t your first loss in battle, and it won’t be your last.”

  William blinked at her. “We’re not in battle.”

  “Maybe not in the way you think. Not all battles are fought with swords and shields—or even medallions carrying heavenly favor.” She walked away slowly, Lorenz weeping silent tears by her side, and returned to the main path. It continued to slope downward, descending into further darkness. Everyone but William proceeded. He remained, staring into the whirlwind.

  His gaze darted back and forth, and my heart cracked with such force that I did not know how it might be mended. I tried to offer comfort by taking William’s hand, but the contact of flesh on flesh still burned with an exhilarating need, so I released him and stepped away.
<
br />   “We must continue onward,” I said. “There will be time to mourn once we’re above ground and stand in daylight.”

  William’s head shook from side to side, a small and gentle motion, and for a moment I saw him as a young boy, vulnerable and unsure.

  I didn’t care what consequence it brought—I opened my arms and he fell into them, though briefly, for we still had far to go.

  And so, we descended.

  16

  The Hunger

  We escaped the driving winds only to find ourselves confronted by the impossible—but who am I to say what is or isn’t possible, after all that I’ve lived? As we descended along the craggy path, I felt the early drops of a light rain. The air grew thinner as a chill caused me to shiver, the cold hitting the back of my lungs and forcing a cough. More raindrops landed on my face, stinking of copper and sulfur.

  “What is this?” William drew the back of his hand across his forehead as the force of rain increased, falling harder and harder until we had to shield our eyes to see the way ahead. The others did the same, staying close to the wall as we descended. I worried about the rain turning the ground to mud and compromising our path, until I realized that, despite the pelting waters, each drop vanished into the earth the moment it struck. The ground didn’t loosen, turn thick with mud, or present any consequence of its existence—the rain merely existed to annoy, frustrate, and torment. “How can we be rained on underground? Nothing about this makes sense.”

  “You thought hell would make sense?”

  “I suppose not, but I’ve read the Revelation of John, and it didn’t make mention of a lust-inducing whirlwind or a … snow storm? Did the rain just turn to snow?”

  I squeaked, quite unintentionally, as a frozen, wet glob smacked into my eyebrow. Water slid into my eye and I tried with moderate success to wipe it away.

  “I don’t think the rain knows what it wants to be,” I mused. “Rain, hail, or snow? I’m not certain it matters, it all stinks.”

  He sighed. “Regardless of what it is or isn’t, I’ll be happy when it’s over. I think we’re due to stop for refreshment and rest, but we’ll need to find someplace dry first. Maybe start a fire to warm up a bit.” He shivered, which I found most curious—for though I was cold, and it had been as long for me as for any of them since the last meal, I felt not the least bit of hunger nor desire to rest. If anything, I felt more sated and rested than when we’d started our journey.

  “We should ask the others,” I suggested. “I’m not convinced that starting a fire in here is wise.”

  “And why not? It’s not as though we can burn the place down, though we’ve yet to see any hellfire. That’s the part I can’t quite understand.”

  Of all we’d seen so far, that was what he couldn’t understand? I might have teased him about it, but the loss of Peter was a fresh wound and I didn’t wish to dig my fingers in and cause further pain.

  “I’m sure there will be hellfire enough before we realize,” I said. Even so, there was something that bothered me about this place I couldn’t place my finger on.

  The rain refused to let up, shifting to sleet and snow and back to rain, relentless as it drove against us. Every so often, I caught a glimpse of misty fog rising to our left, a reminder that we descended into a pit and were not merely wandering across the plains of earth. And since rain can easily disorient and at times obscure the way, we each kept one hand on the wall to our right. As much as we knew our destination, I believe none of us desired a solitary visit—head-first, no less—before our imminent arrival.

  “I’m going to ask the others about stopping for dinner,” William said, and pressed ahead as my father and I fell back.

  My father left the safety of the wall to walk beside me. “Do you know where we’re headed, my daughter?”

  I resisted the urge to shake my head. “We descend until we find her, however far that takes us.” I thought for a moment, then looked askance at him. “Do you know?”

  He shrugged. “I only know that we haven’t yet come close to reaching the true horrors of this place, and we’ve already lost one of our party.”

  “He’s gone forever, then? You don’t think he’ll find his way back to us? I didn’t want to give William false hope, but I wasn’t sure.”

  “He’s gone. He made his choice.”

  That didn’t sound right. “Choice? But I don’t think he chose at all. None of us chose the way we felt, we were all affected by that place. Weren’t we?” He raised one eyebrow and waited, pausing on the path. “All right, so you weren’t. But I was.”

  “Were you, truly? Or are you simply a girl in love who allowed herself to be caught up in the permission of the moment?”

  My cheeks grew warm at that, but I couldn’t deny his point. “I pulled away first. William remained affected. I thought I’d been lured, but you may be right. I might have been taken in by the atmosphere.” I pictured the others, their expressions, their postures. “And Lorenz was deeply taken by Samia, but she … she resisted.”

  My father smiled, but he looked thoughtful rather than happy. “I suspect that lust is not a vice that affects her the way it does the others.”

  “Doesn’t affect her? Is it not a … human need?” Why, oh why, was I standing here, discussing this with my father?

  He grinned, seeing the discomfort on my face. “Some people require more sleep than others. Some require more food than others. Some require more connection than others. We are not all the same, and isn’t that a blessing for us? Today, Samia’s lack of natural desire was a boon to our quest.”

  I thought I might ponder on this more some day, when we were not deep beneath the earth fending off the horrors of the dead. “Speaking of food, are you hungry? William ran ahead to see if the others might like to rest once the rain eases, which—” I held out my palms and only a light sprinkling of water bathed their surface “—it appears to have already done.”

  “Hungry?” My father looked down the path, but the rest of our party was no longer visible. “I have no desire to eat, but we should find them quickly.”

  “Why?” A rush of fear came to my chest at his stricken words. “What harm is there in a moment’s rest?”

  He didn’t reply but urged me to follow him. The path grew steeper, but our feet were nimble and true. Finally, Hund’s eyes glowed yellow in the darkness, and the canine barked once as we came into view. His tail whipped back and forth, and he spun around himself before darting down the path further. We followed, legs pumping, until the others were once again in sight.

  All three of our companions sat slumped against the rock wall, hands pressed against their stomachs. Lorenz’s legs splayed out in front of him, while Samia had curled into a ball, head buried between her knees. She groaned as we approached. William, my dearest heart, remained the most upright of the three, but his head tilted against the rock behind him and his eyes were closed, anguish written across his face. Their burlap sacks lay nearby, and a sinking sensation filled my belly. Then I noticed the crumbs.

  They dotted the front of William’s tunic and Lorenz’s beard. The cloth wrappers containing our bread, cheese, and meat for the journey lay empty on the ground. Lorenz clutched what appeared to be the stem of a carrot in his fist, and as I tried to make sense of the mess, he absently raised his arm and slammed the carrot stem into his mouth. He chewed, unblinking, and swallowed it in seconds. Then he too began to groan.

  “What’s wrong with them?” I breathed the words as if attempting to convince myself that the scene before me wasn’t real. That I wasn’t seeing what I feared I saw.

  My father grabbed Lorenz’s burlap pack and tore it open. “It’s empty.” He tossed it back on the ground. “Check the others.”

  “Empty! We had enough provisions for a week!” I tore open Samia’s pack. Also empty. William groaned as I reached for his, but it didn’t sound like the groan of a man who’d eaten his fill. Everyone’s cheeks were flushed and bead
s of sweat dotted their foreheads and noses. I held my breath as I opened William’s bag, and my heart sank to see it was also bare. Then, his stomach growled. “He sounds hungry, but that can’t be possible. They look ill and their stomachs must be full to bursting. What will we do?”

  My father kicked the boots of each, telling them to get up. They didn’t listen, but Hund took the opportunity to lick their faces of the salty crumbs.

  “This must be gluttony,” my father sighed. “We descend toward the judgment of gluttons, and none of them have escaped its effect.”

  Marvelous. “And yet they still feel hunger.” Lorenz, I noticed, had begun to eye my father’s bag. “How much do we have in your pack?”

  “Enough for you and me both for one day, maybe two, if we eat sparingly.” Lorenz rolled onto his side and began to rise to his feet. “We need to get through this circle and into the next.”

  “Lust, gluttony … I can’t say I’m eager to find out what follows. I wish I had as thorough an understanding of this place as you.”

  “You read Dante in your schooling, did you not?” His frown deepened. “Have I been paying a tutor for nothing? Falling in love does not negate the importance of a good education, no matter who the object of one’s affections may be.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks, for I had read the poet’s work as part of my lessons … however, I couldn’t say I recalled much of it, as that had been many years ago and my Italian had never been particularly proficient.

  My father sighed and gestured to the path beyond. “It’s all right, Ellison. I’m your father, I’m supposed to be concerned about you. However, I suggest we continue. These three will follow soon enough, when their hunger calls them on. We might clear the way and make it safer for them to proceed, hmm? Come.”