Amorlia

by Chris Wichtendahl

  Faery

  Artemis looked around her in wonder. The colors of Faery were more vivid than any she’d seen, and every sound was musical. There were scents she’d never smelled before, and even the very air itself tingled on her skin. Luminous beings and giant talking animals wandered about, and she found that if she concentrated, she could not only hear, but see, smell touch and taste their thoughts. A beautiful woman made of fire approached her, smiling. “Greetings, Artemis Vega,” she said in a warm melodious voice, “and welcome to Faery. I am a Fire Spirit and I shall be your guide.” Artemis fell into step beside the burning woman, marveling at how she hardly felt the heat of the fire. She made mention of it to her guide. “Of course,” the Faery woman laughed, “I am living fire and burn as hot as I need to, with a friendly warmth or the heat of passion.” “What is your name?” Artemis asked. “My full name would scorch even your formidable mind to ash,” the Fire Spirit answered, “but you may call me Sar.” “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sar.” Sar smiled brilliantly, “And you as well, Princess.” They walked a while, Artemis taking in every delight to her senses. They walked past roaring firefalls, massive volcanoes of ice and forests made of clouds. They passed two ancient trees surrounded by a fence, and guarded by a being that looked remarkably like Kael, save that she was female, with skin and wings of different hues. “What are those,” Artemis inquired, “and who is that?” “Those are the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge,” Sar explained, “They are guarded by Gloriel, one of the last of the Sol Ky Taan, an ancient race. Theirs is a long story,” she said, leading Artemis away, “and not one we have time for today.” Artemis looked back over her shoulder at Gloriel and wondered. She did not have time to wonder long, for Sar had led her to a magnificent structure, and the only artificial one other than the fence around the Trees. It resembled nothing more closely than a smith’s forge. The sounds of industry came from inside. “Herein dwells one who would assist you,” Sar told her. They entered the dwelling, which was warm and inviting, with various machines and parts of machines strewn about. Other parts and tools were stacked neatly on shelves. Across the room, near the forge itself, a strange-looking creature labored over a workbench. It was as though someone had made a perfect replica of a man using metal and gears, or rather, it was as though someone had improved on the design of man using metal and gears. Light shone from within the metal man, illuminating a network of lines etched into his skin. He turned, gazing at them with twin glowing lenses and smiled a clockwork smile. “Ah,” he said, an echo in his voice, “you are here at last. I trust Sar has given you a proper tour?” “As much as time allows, beloved,” Sar commented, granting him a light fiery kiss. She turned to Artemis, “This is my husband,” she said by way of introduction, “Emfex.” Emfex extended a hand of gears and wires, “I am a Techno Spirit,” he said, “living technology. I am a recent addition to Faery, for all that I have always been here.” “Excuse me?” Artemis arched an eyebrow as she shook the mechanical faery’s hand. A hint of understanding formed in the back of her mind, but Emfex was talking and she didn’t think on it too heavily. “Never mind,” he waved his other hand. “Now,” he said, “I understand you are to traverse the six Hells and gain entry to the Underworld in order to rescue your true love. Is this so?” “It is,” Artemis nodded. “Excellent,” Emfex smiled, “True love. Nothing beats it in all the Worlds.” He and Sar smiled at one another. “But,” he held up one finger, “the realms of darkness are not to be tread lightly, nor without the proper equipment.” “No?” Artemis grinned. She liked Emfex. “No indeed. Fortunately,” he said, “you have me.” He reached up above his workbench and pulled down an ornate belt with three pouches hanging from it. From the second largest, he removed three curved blades with no handles. “Throwing blades,” he said, “made from charmed silver. They’ll only harm their intended targets, and will return to you once they’ve hit their marks.” Artemis took them, examined them appreciatively, then handed them back with a smile. Emfex reached into a smaller pouch and pulled out a handful of black pellets. “These are made from explosive powder,” he told her, “the same stuff used to make guns fire. Very handy in certain situations.” “Like what?” Artemis asked, curious. “You’ll see,” Emfex answered with a wink. “Finally,” he opened up the largest of the three pouches, “there’s this.” He held out a coil of long thick rope that glinted in the firelight with a metallic sheen. “This rope is unbreakable, will always find purchase, and will only release its grip when you want it to.” He stuffed it back in its pouch and handed the belt to Artemis, who fastened it around her waist. “Thank you,” she said. “Happy to help, my dear,” Emfex smiled. “Oh,” he said, “one last thing.” His metal fingers pulled a small pink crystal on a silver chain from inside a compartment in his metal plating and handed it to her. “It’s pretty,” Artemis said, turning it over in her fingers, “What is it?” “It is your way home,” Sar told her. “The doors between the Hells usually only go one way.” “Down,” Emfex interjected. “Yes,” Sar continued, “down. If one wants to travel back up through the Hells to Faery, a Passage Crystal is needed. Keep it safe,” she warned, “as it is the only way back, and every demon, wraith and damned soul in all the Hells will be after it.” “I will,” Artemis promised, putting it around her neck and tucking it under her gown. “Well,” Emfex said, “that is all I have to offer you, Artemis.” He offered his hand again and she shook it. “Use these gifts wisely, and you should fare quite well indeed.” “Thank you again,” Artemis said, smiling, “I really do appreciate this.” Emfex grinned and waved the comment away, “Anything for the Daughter of the Moon,” he said. And then Artemis and Sar were resuming their journey. They had not gone far when they approached a large forbidding red door, built into a jagged spire of rock. “The door to the First Hell,” Sar said ominously. Then, placing a flaming hand on Artemis’ shoulder, she offered a warning, “Be wary of those you meet in the First Hell. They will not seem so fearsome, nor terribly evil. They are not, compared to those of the later Hells, but never forget that they are still among the Damned, and for good reason. Once you step through that door,” she gestured at the red door, which seemed to pulse slightly, as though breathing, “trust no one and nothing.” Artemis nodded silently. Now that the end of her quest was upon her, she realized how daunting a task lay before her. Suddenly, she missed Pym very much. She stood a while longer, then squared her shoulders, thanked Sar and grabbed hold of the twisted metal handle. “Nothing for it now but to do it,” she muttered. With one last farewell for her guide, she turned the handle and opened the door with a loud sickening creak. Then, muscles tight and teeth clenched, Artemis Vega went to Hell.

  The First Hell

  “Who are you?” The question startled Artemis, who didn’t sense anyone approaching. She looked around the dull featureless landscape and finally saw a sad-looking man dressed in outdated business attire. His face was grey and slack, and he had a generally listless air about him. She remembered Sar’s warning, and regarded him warily. “You just came through a door, didn’t you? Do you have a Passage Crystal?” He was getting closer, and Artemis noticed a small worm- like creature with spindly arms and vestigial human facial features perched on his shoulder. Its mouth was round and filled with razor sharp teeth. It seemed to alternate between whispering in his ear and sucking on his neck. Upon closer inspection, the man had several nasty-looking welts on his neck and shoulders. “It wants to leave, I think, yes?” the creature hissed, “Wants to get to Faery, and maybe to the Summerland.” It laughed, a terrible grating sound, and attached itself to the man’s neck, biting and sucking before looking up to taunt him again. “You are Damned, little soul. Damned Damned Damned.” The man was crying, “But I didn’t mean...” The creature laughed again, mocking him. “It didn’t mean! It didn’t mean!” It chewed the man’s earlobe, hissing to him, “Little Damned soul had his big machines. Couldn’t find Engineers to power his machines. Used blackrock instead.” Artemis gasped. Blackrock
fumes were toxic. It was forbidden even to mine blackrock, let alone burn it as fuel. “I thought it would be okay,” the man whimpered, “I didn’t mean-” “Didn’t mean!” The creature cackled its horrible little laugh, “Blackrock made machines go, made big smoke too. Big smoke poisoned rivers, air and little children in the village, yes?” It sucked furiously at his neck before shrieking, “But it didn’t mean!” It hissed at Artemis, as though noticing her for the first time. “Go away, meat,” it said. Artemis backed away, nearly tripping over someone. She turned, and a little boy looked up at her. “They’re demons,” he said, pointing to his own small creature. It was much smaller than the other one, and not as articulate. It gurgled and hissed as it sucked the boy’s neck, but did not speak. “What is it doing?” Artemis asked, grimacing. It looked like it hurt. “It’s feeding,” the boy told her. “On what?” “Sin.” “Sin?” She was incredulous, “What sort of sin could-” “I liked playing with fire,” the boy sighed, “I would spend hours just burning things, watching the flames...” A wistful look came over his face, though it was quickly replaced with one of sadness, “One day,” he said, a slight hitch in his throat, “I was burning part of the wall in my room. It... it burned more than I wanted. The whole house caught fire. Papa tried to put it out, but it... he...” the boy’s face fell, “He couldn’t,” he whispered. “What happened?” Artemis felt her heart go out to this sad little boy. The tiny demon continued feeding at his neck. “We all died,” the boy said, “Papa and Mama, and my little sister Joya, they went to the Summerland. I...” his voice caught again, “I came here.” “What is this place?” Artemis asked, looking around. Everywhere she saw sad men and women, demons latched to their necks, wandering aimlessly. “I know it’s the First Hell, but I don’t-” “It is the Hell of unintended consequences,” the boy said, “Reserved for people like me, who act without thinking and cause misery to others.” He looked up at her quizzically, “But who are you?” he asked, “You’re not a soul, like me. You’re a living woman. What are you doing here?” Artemis saw no harm in sharing part of her mission with him. “I need to find the way to the Second Hell,” she told him, “I am on a very important quest.” “I can help you,” the boy said eagerly, “I can help you find the door. Maybe,” a note of desperation entered his voice, “maybe if I do good things here, I’ll be able to go to the Summerland someday.” “I hope so,” Artemis tried to sound encouraging, but thought she heard the little demon snicker. The boy led her through the vast unchanging land of the First Hell. Other souls approached, with demons of their own. A woman who had killed her baby while in the throes of a drunken binge begged Artemis to take her along to the next Hell. “I deserve worse than this!” she cried, “My baby! Oh, my baby!” The demon at her throat mocked her and cackled, and she ran crying into the endless distance. A young man who’d made his living selling a false cure that accidentally poisoned an old woman, a soldier who had slaughtered his entire troop, thinking they were the enemy and a prostitute who’d driven a man to suicide all approached Artemis on her journey. All of them were covered in welts, their demons feeding hungrily. Some wanted her to rescue them, while others, like the mother who’d killed her baby, wanted worse punishment. All eventually ran from her, the mocking laughter of their demons hissing in their ears. At last they reached the door. It was red, like the first one, though slightly more twisted. When Artemis touched it, it felt vaguely like skin. As she gripped the handle, she felt the little boy tug at her gown. She looked down. “Please,” he said, “I know you have a Passage Crystal. Can you... can I...” Artemis felt tears well up in her eyes, “I’m sorry, but I can’t give it to you. I need it to return home when my quest is over.” “Please!” the boy begged, his own eyes wet, “please just... just lend it to me, okay? I promise I’ll send someone back to you with it. I promise!” “I-I can’t,” Artemis wept. “PLEASE!” The boy clutched at her gown, and she could see the demon at his neck grow larger, “I promise to give it back! Please!” Artemis pulled her gown free of his grip, sobbing as she turned the door handle. The creak was even more sickening as it mixed with the cries of the young soul. “DON’T LEAVE ME!” he screamed, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt them! I didn’t mean to!” He fell to his knees, weeping uncontrollably. As Artemis hurried through the door, tears running down her face, she thought she heard the boy’s demon squawk, “It didn’t mean to!” Unbidden, a thought entered Artemis’ mind as she left the little damned boy crying at the door. It would only get worse from here.

  The Second Hell

  The door slammed shut behind her, and Artemis looked around. It was hard to focus on anything, as the landscape changed subtly every few seconds. Trees would become people which would turn into hideous sculptures, then back to trees again. The ground shifted beneath her feet, though it was solid enough as she walked on it. She felt dizzy. “Hello!” The voice was bright and happy, and when she turned, the woman who spoke was smiling. She looked older than Artemis, and was dressed in the court fashions of the Land Pacha from half a century ago. At first, Artemis could not see a demon like the ones she’d seen in the First Hell. Then the woman’s flesh rippled and bulged, and a long thick creature that resembled an overgrown millipede burst out of her skin. It was the length of a full-grown python, and it crawled across the smiling woman on miniature human legs, over her chest and around the back of her neck where it perched on her shoulder. It had four small arms near its head, which was also vaguely human along with the round mouth full of sharp teeth. It glared at Artemis through four pairs of tiny black eyes. “Why is this meat here?” it asked the woman. “I don’t know,” she answered cheerily, “I was just about to ask.” “Lying bitch,” the demon spat, “open your mouth.” The woman complied, and the snake-like millipede demon crawled inside and down her throat. Amazingly, this did not appear to cause much discomfort for the woman, who simply looked at Artemis and smiled as her throat roiled and stretched with the demon’s passing. “So,” she asked brightly, “why are you here?” Then she did a curious thing. She flickered, and was suddenly two steps to her right without ever having moved. The surroundings spun sickeningly for a few seconds then stopped and began to pulse. Artemis staggered back a few steps,closing her eyes and holding her head. “I don’t... I don’t...” her thoughts spun through her mind, daring her to catch them, “I don’t know? Why don’t I know?” “It’s the way of [GARBLE] you are,” the woman flickered, shifted and was suddenly uncomfortably close to Artemis. “This is Discordia, the Second Hell. Where all is deception, lies, trickery, deceit, madness [GARBLE GARBLE GARBLE] quite chaotic.” She smiled, revealing two rows of sharp yellow teeth, “Would you like to chew my face?” The world spun again, shifted hue and continued pulsing arrhythmically. Artemis was on her knees, no longer able to stand. Random thoughts flickered through her mind, but none of them made much sense. She felt drunk, but not the pleasant kind of drunk. She felt as though she’d been drinking straight whiskey for three days. She tried desperately to hold on to her mind, but it was starting to melt away, “Wha...” she slurred, “Whas place? You... who? Gotta quest... go.” She began to crawl, slowly and with great effort, across the churning ground. A door. Yes. There was a door she had to find. It would get her out, and she could go find... she couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. Find the door. Get out. The demon crawled out of the smiling woman’s ear and cackled, “What’s your hurry, meat? Don’t you want to stay here among the liars and the cheats? Look at this one,” it indicated the woman it coiled around, “she never said a true word to anyone in her life. Lied to her own kids even, got them so turned around they never knew which end was up.” It tore a hole in the woman’s throat and crawled in, then poked its head back out through the hole, “She was an adulteress too,” it told Artemis, who had abandoned crawling and now simply weaved back and forth on hands and knees, her head hanging down. The demon kept talking, “Cheated her lover out of all his money while she was at it.” It cackled again, “They’re all liars, meat. Remember
that.” It slid back down into the woman’s torso, and she simply pulled out a needle and coarse thread and began sewing her throat back together. “Oh, that one,” she chuckled, “it does go on.” She finished sewing, and crouched down next to Artemis, a gentle hand on the disoriented princess’ back, “You know I’m not a liar. You trust me,” a wicked smile showed her pointed teeth again, “don’t you?” Artemis looked blearily up at the damned soul, “Trus’? Yuh-yeah, trus’. Can’t... can’t walk.” The woman’s smile widened, “Oh, well, why don’t [GARBLE] help with that, honey?” She helped Artemis unsteadily to her feet, and her eyes fairly glowed at the sight of the Passage Crystal, which had slid free of Artemis’ gown. “Ooooh,” the damned woman said, “there it is.” “Wha’?”Artemis looked down and grabbed at the Crystal, “N-no,” she mumbled, trying unsuccessfully to tuck it back in to her gown, “‘S mine. ‘mportant.” “But you said I could have it,” the woman pouted. The demon crawled out of her mouth, said “liar!”, then crawled back into her ear. “I did?” Artemis couldn’t remember doing that, but right now she was having trouble with her own name. Then, as suddenly as it had left her, clarity returned. Her birthmark flared, causing the damned woman to cover her eyes and stumble away. Artemis felt her mind clear, and her balance was restored. A piece of knowledge slid into place, and told her that the new senses her mother had mentioned were helping her to bring order to her perceptions of this Hell. But she knew it wouldn’t be long before even they were overwhelmed. Already, she could feel her concentration starting to slip. She tucked the Crystal into her gown and drew her sword, slashing at the damned woman. “Get away!” she yelled and ran off. She stumbled through the Second Hell, desperately seeking the door. She could feel it ahead of her, though she couldn’t figure out which direction, as direction meant nothing in this place. More of the damned approached her as she ran, offering aid and comfort. As her senses clouded again, Artemis almost trusted one of them. He was handsome, save for the even larger millipede demon that hung from his left eye socket. It told her that he had been a merchant in life, but that he had also cheated people out of their money with rigged games of chance and false charities. He’d once conned an entire village into donating their money to a local orphanage, even going so far as to employ the orphans to aid his scheme. Artemis was about to let him lead her away when she saw the door. “No,” she said, stepping back from him, “No, I have to go.” He lunged for her, “No, wait! That’s the wrong door! I can show you the right one, just give me the Crystal!” Artemis staggered to the door and groped at the handle. The red of this door was dripping, and the handle was made of bone. It shook in her grip and the door screamed as she opened it. She lurched through and collapsed on the ground on the other side. The door slammed shut and she felt her senses return. Her mind was clear and her thoughts were her own. She didn’t look around, but lay where she’d fallen and caught her breath. A foul odor wafted toward her, a mixture of blood, semen, sweat and fear. She grimaced. Then she heard the voice. “Pretty pretty. Come to play with me, pretty?” She looked up and saw that she was surrounded by a group of sweaty men, all of them panting and fondling themselves. Many of them had knives. Demons the size of small apes that looked like spiders latched on to each of them, sucking at the bases of their skulls. The one who’d spoken shuffled closer and leered. “Come to play with all of us, I think.”