Ah, but I supposed that had to be the way of things in the infernal depths: the torture of the unknown pressing upon us on every side, even so far into our quest.
“How much farther, do you think?” asked William. His voice sounded scratchy and hoarse, despite the water he’d consumed. The oppressive heat here meant we would require even more refreshment soon.
“Hopefully, not far,” I replied as he gripped my upper arm. We’d come to a place where the stone steps ended. The path continued downward, a steep ramp covered in coarse, dry sand that slipped and shifted around under our feet. Twice my foot slid out from under me, and though the first time I pitched backward into William’s arms, the second time I only saved myself from falling onto my face by slapping my palms into the wall at our side. After that, we changed the manner of our descent and pressed our backs against the wall, taking small sideways steps like mountain goats. The misty blue of the Abyss reminded us toward what we descended, and I had difficulty shaking off my worry—and curiosity—about my father’s solitary quest.
“What will you do when you find her?” William asked, I suspect to keep our attention on something other than the reality we faced. “Do you have a spell that brings someone back from the dead?”
Alarm jolted through my belly. “No, I don’t. Remember when I asked you to retrieve The Book of Conjuring for our journey, and you came back with my father instead?”
“Yes. I remember, Ellison.”
I huffed. “I’d hoped to find a spell, a conjuring to bring her back from death with relative ease. And then when my father insisted on coming instead of bringing the book, I’d hoped it meant he already had knowledge of the sort of spell I sought.”
“He must have,” William agreed, and paused in our descent. Across the path, supine and weeping, lay a naked soul. I stepped over it, and though ordinarily I might have felt pity and been filled with the urge to help, this far into the depths I could not fail to consider that these souls had been sent to torment for reasons I did not know. They had already been judged and found wanting, and it wasn’t my place to intervene in those affairs.
“I assumed he did,” William continued, stepping over the prone figure. More became visible along the path ahead, some huddled, some pacing in place. “I wouldn’t have accepted his assistance if I thought he didn’t.”
“Did you ask?”
“Well, not specifically, but—”
I huffed again, anger brewing. “It doesn’t matter, William. He’s gone, and even if he did know which conjuring to use, it’s of no use to us if he’s nowhere to be found. I’ll have to guess what to do, and even so, I’m not leaving this place without her. If that means I have to tear down every wall, pull up every stone, so be it.”
We’d entered a place where broad flakes of fire rained down like snow in the mountains, drifting slowly through the air and setting fire to the sand, which blazed and extinguished. I watched as a fiery flake drifted toward one of the unclothed souls, a woman with knees drawn to her chest, her face buried. It landed on her bare back and she screamed, unmoving, as the flame flared and then disappeared, leaving behind a blackened burn upon her mottled flesh.
“Faster,” I urged William, “if we value our hair and skin.”
“I could do without my hair,” William said as we sped our pace, waving our arms overhead to stop the flakes from finding purchase on our heads and limbs. “But I rather like yours.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but please move faster.”
We hurried, dodging and hurdling, flailing and twisting, and were nearly burned more than once, our waving arms unintentionally sending the drifting fire toward the tormented.
And then the path ended.
Nothing remained beyond our feet but the darkened void—we had finally reached the bottom of the pit, only to find it wasn’t the bottom at all. The hole in the ground was circular like a well, the drop sheer and the way beyond obscured by the ever-present mist that still rose from its center. Several poor souls sat along its edge. They, as though dwelling on hope at finding a way off this circular plain, beat with their hands at the fire that struck them, and pounded their palms against the flakes that touched the ground.
“Now what?” William crouched and leaned over the edge, and my breath caught in my throat. He wavered, unbalanced in his crouch, for he still lacked strength—it hadn’t escaped my notice how the gray of his pallor had deepened the further we descended—and I only exhaled once he rocked back onto his heels. “Check the other side, there must be a ladder or some way to climb down.”
I shook my head. “Not if this circle is their eternal resting place. But this can’t be the final stage of the pit, surely there’s more punishment beyond. We haven’t even reached the circle of the evilest dregs of humanity, let alone the Adversary’s own allies.”
We’d seen very few of the latter specifically, which was a curiosity in itself, but I didn’t want to invite worry. I wandered along the edge, peering inside in case the mist obscured a ladder or rope fastened tight against the interior wall.
“What if—” I shrieked in distress as a fiery flake landed on my forearm, causing the skin to swell and bubble. William immediately rushed to reach my side, but, in his haste, didn’t see the figure who had shambled down the path and now lay prone across the space between us, with head hung over the edge of the pit. William’s foot caught the body and he pitched forward, arms whirling, falling toward oblivion.
I screamed his name and reached for him, and his terrified eyes flashed an apology as he tipped over the edge. At the same instant, a black blur rushed past and dropped into the pit, and I fell hard onto my rear, certain that all I had worked for, all I’d ever loved and wanted, had just been lost in a single heartbeat.
“William,” I whimpered, my voice so weak I hardly recognized it. How had this happened? He’d fallen too fast for me to will a spirit to catch him and raise him up.
And then an incredible thing happened, and I am certain you will accuse me of embellishing the tale. I promise, I do not. Because as I took a shuddering breath, the distress of William’s final cry ringing in my ears, a massive, black foot crested the edge of the pit. And then came a second. And then a snout—two snouts? Three! The rest of the beast climbed out and William slid from its back onto the ground, bewilderment plain on every feature.
“Hund!” I cried, then thought better. “Cerberus. Please forgive my forgetful mind,” I said with a shallow curtsy. The beast whined—I do not know from which head, but I’m sure it doesn’t matter—and lowered its central snout to nudge William forward. He came toward me, lips uncertain whether they should smile or grimace, as Cerberus struggled to fit on the narrow edge of the pit.
“What happened?” I embraced William the moment he came near enough, squeezing as tight as my strength allowed. “I thought I’d lost you.”
He shook his head. “I was falling and then … I wasn’t. I assumed I’d hit the bottom and break my neck at any second, when something grabbed my coat and tossed me upward. When I felt fur beneath my fingers, I grabbed hold, and the next instant I was here again.”
I looked past him to Cerberus—and gasped. For in the flash between gazing on William and back at the monstrous canine, he’d shrunk back to the size he’d been at our first meeting, tall enough for his head to rest against my shoulder. And as for his head, he once again had but one, not three. Where did the other two go when he existed at this size? It is a question I imagine will never be answered, but which I spared perhaps more thought than necessary.
“He saved my life. I don’t know how or why, but if he hadn’t followed us here, I’d be nothing but a pile of broken bones.” William sighed, and my insides quaked to think how close I’d come to losing him. “Should we pet him, to say our thanks? Is that acceptable?”
I regarded him curiously. “Of course. Why shouldn’t we? Cerberus is a dog, not a demon.”
“Not just a dog. A hellhound. Notice how
the flakes of fire have stopped falling around us with him near. He is of this place.”
“Ah, but a loyal hellhound, which isn’t a thing I’d ever have thought possible.” I crossed the path to offer Cerberus my hand. He lay down on his belly, sniffed my fingers, and lowered his head to receive a scratch between the ears. “And hellhound or not, he’s a creature quite obviously starved for affection and understanding, and I’m happy to give it.” To Cerberus, I said, “thank you, dear one. And thank you for defending us against the beast in the hall of greed. You are indeed a good boy, and I’m quite relieved you emerged unscathed.” I peered at his sides and saw no wounds. “Though I wonder whether you can endure scathing here at all, being a guardian. Can you be injured? What is death to a guardian of the dead? Curious.”
William joined me and scratched beneath the hound’s wide jaw. Cerberus’s tail thumped with delight. “He belongs here, Ellison. I know you, and I know what you’re thinking.”
How could he? I frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And before he could press on, I crouched to look into the eyes of this precious beast. “Cerberus, do you know how we might descend safely into this pit?”
“Ellison.”
“Hush. I’m not speaking to you.” I waited and repeated the question while pointing to the murky Abyss. Cerberus’s gaze followed my finger, then he whined. “Please. We have to find my mother. If you cannot help, I’ll find another way, but rest assured I will descend.”
With another whine, he rose to sit upright on his haunches.
“Ellison.” William’s voice grew sterner. “He’s a dog.”
“Shut up, beloved,” I said, and as if to defy William’s frustrating disbelief, Cerberus barked once, sharp with finality—and began to grow.
“Quickly,” I said, grabbing hold of the fur on his side. “Climb on his back and he’ll take us down.”
William stared. “I don’t … this isn’t … ”
“Oh, stop gaping and climb aboard.” At his hesitation, Cerberus lowered his head, took a flustered William by the coat between his wickedly sharp teeth, and flicked his head backward to toss the kingdom’s crown prince onto his back. William landed on his stomach, splayed in an undignified manner, and struggled to sit upright as I struggled not to explode with laughter.
“If you ever speak of this to anyone,” he growled as he finally sat aright, “you will surely regret it.”
I did laugh then, no longer able to hold back—but my laughter died just as quickly when I remembered that he had few friends remaining to whom I would tell such a story. Only those very close to the crown prince should be allowed to hear a tale of his undignified attempt to mount a hellbeast, but who could I tell now apart from Samia? Even Cromer was too far away to share the story with, but perhaps someday after his return.
I swallowed the hitch in my throat and leaned forward to wrap my arms around one of Cerberus’s three necks. I could hardly reach even a third of the way around, but I dug my fingers into his coarse fur and held on tight as William locked his arms around my waist.
“We’re ready,” I murmured into the beast’s neck. “Let’s descend.”
Cerberus stood, turned toward the pit, and dove into the mist.
26
The Circles
We fell and fell, and my cheeks and nose grew cold in the constant barrage of mist. It seemed we would fall forever and never reach land, our stomachs eternally launched into our throats—but then the mist broke apart and we dropped onto a flat stone platform. Cerberus was not as graceful as a cat, but we weren’t jolted too much and remained firmly in place as he padded around the platform’s edge. Then he lay down so we could slip from his back.
“Thank you kindly,” I said, stroking his fur as I waited for William’s insides to drop back into place. His complexion had taken on a greenish hue, and he waved at me to look away. I pretended not to hear the sounds of dry heaving on the other side of the platform.
I stood beside Cerberus, who slowly shrank down to his gentler form as I gazed out to see where the descent had taken us. If I had thought we’d come a far distance into hell, I had no concept of its depths until that moment.
The land was formed like an enormous funnel, with mountain peaks and valleys lying ringed around and inside its basin. Each mountain looked smaller than the next, but it had to be a trick of perspective as each area—the remaining so-called circles of hell, I suspected—descended deeper and deeper, leading travelers toward a great yawning void in the center marked by giant towers. The true Abyss. The longer I gazed toward it, the more my skin began to crawl, as if whatever awaited us there felt my eyes upon it and returned the stare. I shuddered at a pricking sensation on the back of my neck, but when I raised my hand to scratch, the sensation vanished as if the Abyss had looked away.
My stomach lurched with a hint of nausea. I did not relish the thought of reaching that final pit, but there were horrors enough to survive before even approaching it—for the mountains and valleys were not the grass and tree-covered delights of the world above, but rather furbished with fire, or pitch, or nothing at all. At this height, I could make out few details, but those were enough. I looked away, turned my gaze up instead, but it didn’t help. Swirling shadows covered the ceiling, though the masses were broken apart here and there by sharp, rocky spikes that stabbed through.
“Even the ceiling demands we descend toward the pit,” I murmured. “My father spoke truth. There is no way back, even if we desired it.”
I did not want to go in there, not for any reason—not even to indulge curiosity. We needed to stay far, far away from its edge.
And that is why I knew, with growing horror, that we would find my mother within. Trapped there, torn from her peaceful rest and given to the suffering reserved only for the worst, most vile dregs of humanity.
Cocytus, the final circle.
I drew back my shoulders and dug my fingers deeper into my canine companion’s fur.
“It’s all right to be afraid,” I said. Cerberus nosed my hand so that it slipped over his head. I obliged with a few scratches behind his ears. I was afraid when Celia took Edward. I was afraid when I saw Charlotte and Victoria die at the palace balls, only to find them alive and well again at home. I was afraid when I conjured my first spirit. And I was afraid when I found the prince’s ring in the pocket of a borrowed coat.
I had been afraid before, and still I had conquered.
I would do it again.
“We need to find a way down,” I said as William joined me to overlook the land. “The theme of the day, I suppose. My mother is somewhere down there.”
William sat, dangling his legs over the side of the rocky ledge. “Where? That’s a lot of ground to cover. It will take us days to get through there, and we’re sorely lacking in food and water.”
Water! I’d stopped thinking of water after passing the water skin to William many hours earlier. I smacked my lips together and pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, surprised to find all parts moist and not at all lacking for drink. When had that happened? My skin felt supple and soft, whereas William’s complexion reflected his body’s thirst. Lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He looked older, more worn, but I figured that a good meal and a refill of our water skin would set him right again.
Something edged the back of my mind—an insidious inkling of doubt—but I pushed against it and set it aside.
“I see water in some of those valleys,” I said. “When we reach one, I’ll call a spirit and force him to make it safe to drink. Or I could call one now, even, and demand it. Shall I?”
William’s eyes widened. “I’m not sure that’s a wise idea.”
“Why? Because of how Oliroomim tricked us on the bank of the Styx? I assure you, I won’t allow him to attempt it again.”
“No, it’s not that,” he said. I looked sharply at him as he spoke. “You’ve called on these powers quite a bit sinc
e we’ve descended—you opened a portal to hell, after all—and you may need them yet again to save your mother. Shouldn’t you be resting your strength? Maybe making use of them as a last resort?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stared at him, incredulous, until he looked away.
“Have I acted in a manner that offends you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Did I use my abilities on impulse, for my own gain? Or did I act to save our party from an even worse fate?”
“I know, you acted to save us, but—”
“Have you revoked your willingness to lend yourself, your renewable life essence, to pay the price of my conjurings?”
“Of course not, Ellison. You’re not listening.”
But I had heard him clearly, and his words had left no doubt of his intent. “You think I am too corrupted.”
His silence said more than his speech, and I blazed with fury. I also know that words said in anger do not always issue forth with clarity, so instead of speaking I stomped my foot, exhaled sharply through my nose, and began to descend into the closest valley with Cerberus by my side. I trusted William would follow.
I don’t know what I would have done if he had not.
27
The Inferno
We had thought we’d seen horrors above. Truly, we had no idea what a horror was, for those first circles were nothing but a babe’s playroom compared to this place.
Descending into the first valley, we finally saw what had been lacking above: fallen angels, those betrayers of the Almighty, engaged in the torturous punishment of damned souls. The damned looked human still, but their physical forms existed for naught but to be bruised, torn, and broken by their new masters. I didn’t want to look, but how could I not when we were beset by the sight at every side?
Cinderella's Inferno Page 15
