Anthony, Piers - Tarot 3 - Faith of Tarot

by Faith of Tarot (lit)

  Carolyn's horror had abated, for she was young; now she glanced about, intrigued by the scene. Lee stood with eyes closed in seeming meditation. Brother Paul decided not to attempt to engage any of them in conversation. Actually, this was probably about as peaceful as Hell could get.

  "Shall I tell a joke to pass the time?" Therion inquired. "There was this time when God got horny and went to Earth and knocked up this Jewish girl, and as a result—"

  "Christianity," Lee said. "Why don't you try to be original for a change?"

  A boat cruised by on a parallel course but traveling faster. Ripples rocked the raft. Therion frowned. "Watch where you're slogging, duffer!" he yelled.

  "Go soak your snout!" someone yelled from the boat.

  Therion swelled up with delighted indignation. "Osculate my posterior!" he cried. "Your waves are slopping my gunwales."

  "Yeah? Try these waves, peckerhead!" the other bawled. The boat looped about, accelerating to an unholy velocity. Now the ripples became rolling waves. They overlapped the raft's rim, sliding across to soak the feet of the five standing people and the bodies of those still lying under the benches. The latter got up hastily, cursing, for the water was not crystal clear; it was gray with pollution and it stank. Brother Paul observed that there were objects in it that resembled—yes, they were fecal matter.

  Therion reached down, scooped up a dripping chunk, and hurled it at the boat. His aim and force were excellent; the turd scored a direct hit on the shoulder of one of the passengers.

  There was an undecipherable roar of rage from the boat. The passengers stooped to scoop out their own ammunition. In a moment a small barrage of feces scored on the raft.

  "Of course you realize this means war," Therion said, grinning with the sheer joy of battle. He squatted beside the altar, not hiding but rather straining to produce fresh ammunition. Brother Paul turned away in disgust; Therion was very much the fecal personality, and this was manifesting more openly as Hell drew near.

  Others on both crafts were quick to follow Therion's example. Why should they seine the murky water for used shot, when superior grade and personalized material was so readily available? Soon the air was filled with stinking blobs. One person after another was hopelessly spattered in brown.

  Amaranth straightened up, becoming interested in the proceedings. "Oh, shit!" she said. She spoke the truth: a mass of the stuff had scored directly between her breasts, breaking up and dribbling down her white torso.

  Carolyn went around the altar to her. "I'll help you," the child said.

  Surprised, Amaranth just looked at her, neither moving nor speaking. Carolyn scraped off the main mass with her fingers. She turned half about, holding it, looking across to the boat.

  "Uh-uh!" Brother Paul warned her.

  Reluctantly, Carolyn dropped the mass into the water, then stooped to rinse her hands. Then she scooped up a double handful of water and held it up for Amaranth to use to cleanse herself somewhat. "You dear child," Amaranth murmured. Then, choked, she did not speak again, but splashed the water on her front.

  Why hadn't he helped? Brother Paul asked himself. And answered: because Amaranth had suffered herself to be defiled in his eyes. She had lain with the shit-conscious apostle of Satan. And if that had been unplanned, it was only the alternative to the far worse crime she had known about: the execution of this same child who now was helping her.

  Carolyn, in her blessed childlike naivete, had forgiven Amaranth. Brother Paul had not.

  Something massive but soft struck him on the back of the head. He knew what it was before he scraped it off. Once before he had acted immorally—and had had his soul rubbed in shit for it. This time he had passed what might have been an unfair judgment and been similarly punished.

  Now only Lee remained untouched by fecal matter. He stood in meditation, eyes closed, proof against all incursions. Even on the border of Hell, there was that of Divine grace about him.

  The two craft separated and the battle died out. No one had gained by it; they all were going to Hell anyway. Perhaps this was merely part of the initiation: a necessary degradation, immersion in filth. As if physical soiling could set the scene for spiritual soiling. As perhaps it could. "Dirt thou art," Brother Paul murmured. "To dirt thou returneth." Was Hell the grand compost for filthy souls?

  The bank of the river arrived. But there was no need to disembark at the landing; tracks led out of the water, and the roller coaster ride resumed.

  "Now for the grand tour," Therion said contentedly. "We cannot do justice to all the aspects of Hell in these few minutes, but we can glimpse a fraction in passing." He smiled, and it was not a nice expression. "Don't forget that Satan and His minions are themselves deities whose only crime was to lose out in palace politics. For a long time the Horned God was worshiped in His own right—and some remain true to that faith to this day." Meaning himself.

  The platform swept into an exotic gallery reminiscent of the bowels of the Great Pyramid. Ancient Egyptian pictures and pictographs decorated the walls, and there were large, grim statues guarding every alcove: griffins, hippopotami, crocodiles, pigs, tortoises, and serpents. Human-headed birds perched on stone branches near the ceiling.

  A line of people stood, each in a short skirt and headdress, waiting for assignment. The demon in charge had the body of a man but the head of a strange beast with an elongated snout. "That is Set," Therion explained. "He has the head of an Oryx. He is the God of War, brute force, destruction and death. Even the Hyksos invaders feared him; they tried to placate him, calling him Yahveh, but in Egypt he was finally dethroned and called Satan." He shook his head. "A sad conclusion for such a noble God."

  The craft shot through the wall and into a new chamber. Here there was a huge bird-footed, four-winged monster, standing on his hind feet. His front claws were hooked over a wall, and his canine face peered into the enclosure where a multitude of creatures struggled to escape. Most had the bodies of human beings and the heads of animals: lion, dog, bear, sheep, horse, eagle, snake. Some wore the scaly skins of fish. Heaped in the corners where the scrambling feet had scuffled them, were the remnants of a feast: shards of pottery, fruit rinds, bread crusts and human hands and feet. "The God of the Chaldeans laughs at man's puny efforts to escape his fate," Therion remarked. "Laugh, Anu, laugh!" And awful sounds of mirth filled the chamber. "The Sumerians, Accadians, Assyrians, Babylonians and the like had well-developed religious mythologies from which the Hebrews plagiarized freely. The Creation, Eden, the Tree of Life, the Deluge, the Tower of Babel, the destruction of cities by fire, Sargon-in-the-Bulrushes, the twelve signs of the Zodiac, the symbols of the Cherubim—all recorded on tablets before the Bible was written. Even the Holy Trinity of Ea, Bel and Ishtar, with the Goddess represented as a dove—"

  But the carriage plunged through another wall. Suddenly the hot air was filled with huge buzzing flies. "Ah, this must be the abode of the Phoenician God, Baal Zebub, Lord of the Flies," Therion said happily. "Later corrupted to 'Beelzebub', and changed into a devil in the time honored practice of losers. But he was actually no worse than—"

  They went past another wall and into a room dominated by a giant erect phallus. "The lingam of the Brahman God Siva, part of the Trinity of India," Therion exclaimed with joyful recognition. "Symbol and instrument of the creative faculty and the all-devouring fire, evolved into the rod, staff, scepter, and Crozier. Maybe we'll catch a glimpse of Siva's consort, the multi-armed Goddess Kali, the Power of Nature and the ruthless cruelty of Nature's laws. In her honor the Thuggees killed thousands of—"

  But again the scene changed. "Oh, come on," Therion protested, annoyed at last. "Each of these fine Hells deserves a lifetime of attention, and we are getting bare seconds. Stop, stop—let's look at one more carefully!"

  The platform screeched to a halt, almost throwing them off. They were in a long, narrow cavern, with room only for the tracks and a footpath littered with obstructions: rocks, bodies, jagged fissures from which noxious
fumes drifted. A line of bedraggled people marched slowly down this path, harassed by demons. "Hm—not sure I recognize this one," Therion admitted. "Must be a convoy, a transfer of personnel from one unit to another."

  The platform moved along at walking speed, pacing the depressed marchers. The demons ran up and down the line on either side, screaming at the humans, kicking them, beating them with whips and clubs.

  Carolyn stared wide-eyed, her mouth half open in dismay. Amaranth's reaction was more specific. "Stop it!" she cried. "Leave those poor people alone!"

  "This is Hell," Therion said. "Sinners are supposed to suffer."

  Brother Paul and Lee were silent, knowing it was not their place to interfere. Hell would indeed be a failure if it were pleasant. This was one of thousands, perhaps millions of similar punishments, yet it was hard to tolerate.

  A child stumbled over a sharp projection and almost fell into a fissure. The woman behind him grabbed his arm to steady him. "Get your hand off!" a demon cried, whacking her across the head with his club. She staggered and fell half into the crevice herself, one leg rasping across the sharp edge. Blood flowed. The demon laughed.

  Then another demon came. He caught the woman's arm and steadied her, helping her across the crevice. "I'll get a doctor if there's one available," he told her. "I can't promise, but I'll try."

  "Fool," the first demon said. "This is Hell! You'll fry yourself if you don't shape up."

  The second demon turned his back and went about his business. The first demon returned to his business, kicking at lagging people, shouting insults at them, and in general expressing his nature.

  "Strange," Brother Paul observed. "Even among demons there are human differences."

  The path rounded a corner and ended at a double door. The condemned souls were herded through the right door; Brother Paul could see an escalator beyond it going down. The demons, their tour of duty complete, passed through the left door. The tracks paralleled this one; he now witnessed the fate of the demons.

  Lo—the demons stripped off their uniforms. Their forked red tails were part of the costume, and inside their cloven-hoofed shoes were human feet. They pulled away masks, and the horns came off. They were human beings.

  A genuine demon sat on a minor throne. As each pseudo-demon came before him, he gestured thumbs up or thumbs down. The thumb-ups were wafted gently through an aperture in the ceiling from which colored lights and jazzy music leaked; the thumb-downs were dropped through a trap door in the floor.

  The demon who had clubbed the woman was a thumbs-up; the one who had helped her was a thumbs-down. "See," Therion said as both disappeared. "When in Hell, you'd better do as the demons do—or pay the penalty."

  Brother Paul felt sick at heart.

  But now the track looped about to pick up the people who had been marching. They too were stripping away costumes—and lo! they were demons in disguise!

  Carolyn could contain herself no longer. "Miss Demon," she called to the woman who had been struck, now a healthy female demon with cute hoofs and horns and tail. "If you're not really a person, why did you—I mean, the man who helped you, he—"

  "He was found unfit for Hell," the lady demon answered. "That trap door goes straight to Heaven."

  All the people on the platform stared. "But—" Therion began.

  "If you act like a demon just because you think you are in Hell," the lady demon informed him, her pointed teeth showing in a knowing sneer, "you will surely soon be in Hell. But if you are a misfit, we have no use for you. That man who helped me obviously had no idea what Hell was all about."

  Brother Paul exchanged glances with Lee as the vehicle resumed speed. What an infernal test of character!

  Therion seemed shaken. "I didn't know that anyone escaped once he got in this far," he said.

  "I suspect Satan is more discriminating than we know," Lee said.

  They passed through a dizzying array of Hells. They saw people being boiled in oil, hung by their tongues, buried headfirst in burning sand, caged in boxes of immortal scorpions, disemboweled among flesh-consuming worms, thrown off high cliffs, wasted by terrible diseases, and suffering all the torments diabolical minds could imagine. They saw the Hell of the early Christian Gnostics, contained by a huge dragon with its tail in its mouth, with twelve dungeons ruled by demons with the faces of a crocodile, cat, dog, serpent, bull, boar, bear, vulture, basilisk, seven dragons' heads, seven cats' heads, and seven dogs' heads. The condemned souls were sometimes thrown with pitchforks into the open mouth of the dragon or stuffed into the dragon's rectum. They saw King Ixion, who had lusted after the wife of the Greek God Zeus and in punishment was spread eagled on a fiery wheel, his limbs and head forming its five living spokes. They saw Hades, Sheol, Gehenna Tophet, the Hindu Naraka with its twenty-eight divisions, the Moslem Fire with its seven regions each containing seventy thousand mountains of fire, each mountain enclosing 70,000 valleys, each valley 70,000 cities, each city 70,000 towers, each tower 70,000 houses, each house 70,000 benches, and each bench 70,000 types of torture. Brother Paul brought out his calculator to figure out the total number of tortures this progression represented, but got distracted by new visions of Hell and had to give it up.

  At one place two grotesque demons investigated each soul. Carolyn called them "Monkey" and "Naked," mishearing the proper names Therion provided. If the person had lived a good life, his soul was drawn gently and painlessly from his body and wafted upward; but if he had lived a bad life, the demons ripped out his soul with terrible brutality. Further along they saw the Norse Goddess Hel, daughter of Loki, in her domain beneath the roots of the Great World Tree. Now it was clear to Brother Paul how heavily Dante had borrowed from Norse mythology to fashion his vision of the Christian Hell. Indeed, it was evident that Christianity itself had incorporated great chunks of Teutonic legend. They heard the enumeration of the myriad Princes of Hell: Lucifer, Beelzebub, Leviathan, Asmodee, Belial, Ashtaroth, Magot, and on interminably. All the Gods that past peoples had ever worshiped had become Christian devils, and it was obvious that contemporary Hell was extremely well staffed and could handle any emergency.

  At last the impressive, horrible tour was over. Brother Paul's head was spinning, and his companions looked dazed. Only Carolyn had adjusted moderately well; she was still close enough to the fantasy realms of childhood to accept more of the same. They had set out to see Hell; it was more than they had bargained on. Which, Brother Paul reflected, was about par for the course.

  Now at last their vehicle rolled up to the dread gates of the Devil's residence. A horrible clamor swelled in volume: screams of terror, disgust, anguish, and shock. The air was close and hot, and the odor of ozone became strong.

  They rounded a turn—and there was Satan Himself. He was huge, seven or eight meters tall, and His hands and feet were claws, and every joint of His arms and legs was the face of a monster from whose wide-open mouth the extension of the limb continued. He had a two-meter long phallus in proud erection, great bat-like wings, and long twisted horns. Snakes curled around each arm, and when He picked up a struggling naked person, the viper bit that victim in the crotch. He was carrying people up to His grotesquely tusked mouth and chewing them up alive. Simultaneously, He squatted part way, and from his meter-wide anus were extruded the shit-slimed, partially digested people He had consumed. As each dropped headfirst, being born again in Hell as it were, a minor demon snatched his brown-coated body and bore him down into the bottomless flame.

  "Master!" Therion cried. "Here they are!" He smiled triumphantly. "Now reward me with this one for myself!" He hauled on Amaranth's arm.

  Brother Paul stared. So that was it! Therion, having finally conquered his horror of women, now wanted to possess Amaranth permanently and was making his deal for her. For this he had betrayed them all!

  Satan glared down. Beams of brilliant light speared from his eyes to bathe the couple, even as Brother Paul's stunned awareness came.

  "And does the bitch want you
?" Satan inquired. His voice reverberated as though from a great distance. "Will she buy her freedom by going with you?"

  "Sure she will!" Therion cried. "She likes getting screwed!" And Amaranth, terrified by the presence of Satan, did not protest.

  Satan laughed. His two claws swept down and forward and snatched the two of them. "Here is your reward!" the Horned God bellowed as the serpents' jaws closed on Therion's penis and testicles and on Amaranth's pudenda. Twin screams of agony rent the air, sounding above even the background bedlam of Hell.

  "But You promised!" Therion cried as blood dribbled from his crotch. "I served You faithfully—"

  His plea was interrupted as Satan bit off his head, chewed up his quivering torso, and swallowed him in a single, noisy gulp. Immediately after that, Satan chomped down on Amaranth so that her severed legs fell into the flame on one side and her head and arms and part of one breast fell on the other. Satan smacked His lips. "Those who seek Evil and those who acquiesce to Evil—delicious."

  Now the talons came for Brother Paul and Carolyn.

  "No!" Brother Paul cried, and the child screamed. They clung to each other—but the terrible claws clasped each body, sliding on the mucus and diarrhea that coated Satan's nails, and wedged between Brother Paul and Carolyn. They were wrenched apart and lifted high in the steaming air. The two snakes slid down Satan's forearms, their venom-dripping jaws opening wide.

  "Take me! Spare her!" Brother Paul screamed.

  Satan hesitated. Both snakes halted, obedient to the whim of their Master. The hideous, huge face loomed close. "The price of her is two orbs," Satan said. And the python on Brother Paul's side lifted its tusk-like eyeteeth toward his eyes. Its skin was mottled, its other teeth irregular, and its breath stank of ammonia. "These—" The snake's head dropped toward Brother Paul's groin. "Or these. Choose."

  His sight—or his manhood. To save his daughter. The choice was worse than Satan's decision might have been! How could he give up either one?