Hellfire, page 8
part #9 of The Ironspell Chronicles Series
“Why didn’t the angel have to take you?” Vetr asked.
“I’m a daemon.” Tuzren scratched a horn. “I’m from a different plane of existence.”
“So, you could travel here?” I asked.
“Yeah, if I knew exactly where the entrance was.” He shrugged.
“But you’re a demon,” Vetr pointed out. “How could you not know?”
“I’m a daemon, not a Christian demon. That makes me a spirit from another plane.” Tuzren looked annoyed. “Usually we call ourselves demons, but the Watchers stole the name.”
“So, getting into Hell isn’t your specialty?” Vetr asked.
“Generally, no. Ask the archangel here. He’ll agree I’m not from here.”
We looked at Michael, who was watching us, but not getting involved in the conversation. “Well?” I said.
“He’s a demon, just not a Christian one. It’s a sin to consult with any demon, of any plane.” Michael looked bored, and pulled out a cigarette. He studied it carefully before putting it back in a pocket or a satchel. I couldn’t tell, because he’s an angel and a little on the bright side.
“What if you didn’t summon him and he just came along?” I asked.
“Still a sin, I believe.” Michael shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
“Can we skip the theology lesson and get going?” Elryn looked annoyed, tapping her foot. “What’s with the guy with the flaming sword?”
“He’s the gatekeeper here. One of you will have to challenge him to get through the gate. He doesn’t allow the living to enter.”
“Why can’t you challenge him, yourself?” Elryn asked.
“I cannot fight him.” Michael looked at me. “This is your first test, Ironspell. How much do you want to rescue Sabine? How true is your quest?”
With that the goddamn archangel disappeared, leaving us with the guardian at the gateway to Hell to contend with.
Chapter Nine
“Well, that just sucks.” Tuzren summed up my mood perfectly.
I stared at the Guardian of Hell and was thankful that I wasn’t up against something like Kerebos or Garm, the Hellhounds that guarded the gates of Hades and Helheim, respectively. I really didn’t want to harm a dog, no matter how hellacious the creature was. Yeah, pun intended. I could mental deal with a lone shrouded figure with a sword imbued with Hellfire. I didn’t know how the Vorpal blade would fare in a match against it, but I was pretty sure I was about to find out.
“Let’s all attack at once.” Vetr grasped my arm as I started forward. Ulf blocked my way in response. “I don’t care what the birdman says; there’s strength in numbers.”
“Yes, the Jotun is right.” Elryn nodded as she stepped to my left, next to me. “In battle there are no rules except to win. If we play by Heaven’s or Hell’s rules, we’ll die. Guaranteed. Better for us to attack and ask permission later when we are at an advantage. We all want to save Sabine and kick Azazel’s ass for kidnapping her. Let’s get this done and get inside. The faster we get in, the faster we get out.”
“We can take him.” Tuzren nodded. “Just be careful of that sword. It’s a Hellfire blade and they’re rumored to have some incredible powers.”
“Like what?” I glanced at the demon.
Tuzren shook his head. “This isn’t my domain, and I don’t have a lot of knowledge about it. But if the Archangel wasn’t lying, we just have to be true to our quest to defeat him.”
I nodded. It made sense. Our cause was just, by Heaven’s standards. I had no desire for anything else other than to save my mom. “I’ll lead; you back me up.”
With that, I charged the hooded figure.
I’ll have to give the Guardian credit, he didn’t even bother with the old Monty Python shtick of “What is your name? What is your quest? What is the airspeed of an unladen swallow?” Granted I had answers for that, but honestly? It’s just better to attack.
I drew upon my power from Muspelheim and willed the Vorpal blade to do its magic. I was, at best, an amateur swordsman, only having taken fencing in college. Drowslayer, my Vorpal blade, guided my arms in a fight. It feinted and swung low to cut the Guardian’s legs from out under him. The Guardian moved with blinding speed, evading my striking and sending a freaking ball of Hellfire at Elryn as she leapt into the fray. She barely blocked the fireball with a magic shield and sent her own fireball right at the figure.
At the same time, Vetr sent knives of ice screaming toward the Guardian. With a quick slash of his Hellfire sword, it absorbed the knives and then sent them roaring back right at Vetr. The Jotun dodged, putting up his own shield to avoid being a sliced, diced, and Julian-fried. “What in Hel’s name is that?”
“I think that’s the power of the Hellfire sword.” Tuzren flew next to us. “It absorbs anything that touches it and uses it as a weapon.”
I backed off and waved my friends to back off, too. I wasn’t willing to have their magic be slung back at them. “That’s a serious sword. Okay, no magic other than shields. We’ll have to use our blades.”
Vetr pulled out his war axe and smiled. Ulf bared his teeth. Elryn drew her short sword, and Tuzren landed on my shoulder. “I’ll keep shields on you all.”
And so, we attacked at once. I made another slash, this time from shoulder to hip. The Guardian did a quick thrust and stabbed toward my chest. A magic shield blocked it before it could contact my armor, I twisted and brought a quick upper cut that struck the Guardian at the wrists and cut through. His hands fell to the ground with the Hellfire sword, and dark blood poured from the stumps that had once been his wrists.
Elryn and Ulf leapt on him. Elryn slashing with her short sword and Ulf tearing into his body with knives for teeth. Black ichor sprayed everywhere. They pulled back as the Guardian keened so loud that the sound made me back off and cover my ears in pain. Elryn and Ulf staggered backward, reeling from the noise.
It was then Vetr threw more ice knives at him, slicing him literally to shreds. The screeching stopped as the Guardian dissolved into a puddle of goo. I stared at the bloody remains and then looked at Vetr. “Shit. Remind me to never get you guys angry.”
Vetr flashed his teeth, which gave me a cold shiver. “That was simple enough. How do we get inside?” He looked up at the door.
“Uh, guys, he’s not dead yet.” Tuzren flew to my shoulder.
To my horror, the puddle began to coalesce. “No!” I shouted and hurled pure fire from Muspelheim to destroy the thing. Tuzren flew off and sent a stream of fire at it as well.
Vetr raised his hand and frost and ice issued from his fingers. Fire and ice met on what was left of the Guardian and exploded into a display of sheer power. The Guardian flicked into life with his Hellfire blade and charged me with unbelievable speed. I barely got the Vorpal blade raised to parry the attack. The two blades flashed and suddenly, we were both weaponless.
Where the Hellfire sword and my Vorpal blade had been now lay a dark sword glowing with Hellfire. The Guardian leapt to scoop up the blade. Terrified, I reached for it and shouted, “Drowslayer!”
The sword that used to be Drowslayer flew into my hands as though tethered to me with a spring. I spun and slammed its blade into the Guardian. At the same time, Vetr threw his war axe at it. His axe tore through the Guardian’s robes and cleaved its neck. Elryn was right behind, cutting into the creature’s arms to maim it again. The Guardian collapsed in an ever-widening pool of gore. I summoned my powers and set fire to the remains as I did so. Then, Vetr destroyed what was left with frostfire.
Panting, I collapsed on the steps and stared at the spot where the Guardian had been. Ulf sniffed the remains. “Is it dead?”
“I think so,” Elryn said.
It is dead, Ulf agreed. Not that it was ever really alive.
“It wasn’t alive?” Vetr asked.
Nothing here is alive, save us. The wolf met the Jotun’s gaze. It will be back soon, so you need to find how to open the door.
I stared at the sword in my hand. It felt odd and slightly heavier than Drowslayer. I could sense the Vorpal blade’s power, but also something foreign and more sinister. It was as if it was a blending of my Vorpal blade, Drowslayer, and the Hellfire blade. Did the Hellfire blade incorporate my own sword into it, or would it return my blade? I held it and focused on trying to separate the two. Nothing happened. “Hey Tuz, what’s up with the two blades?”
Tuzren flew back to my shoulder to study the blades. “It looks like the Hellfire blade assimilated your Vorpal blade into it.”
I sighed in exasperation. “So, it’s a Borg blade. I can see that, genius. How do I separate them?”
Tuzren ran a finger along the flat of the blade. Hellfire and magic sprung up as he did so. He looked at me and shook his head. “I don’t think you can.”
“Great, just great.” I stared at the sword for a long moment before sheathing it. “Do you think I can still use it?”
“I don’t see why not.” The little daemon shrugged. “You might have some extra powers with it, given the Hellfire. Of course, you might have some unexpected consequences.”
“Like what?”
He shook his head. “Not sure. Just be prepared for strangeness.”
I gave him my best glare, which is kind of hard when the person is a little over a couple of feet tall and sitting on your shoulder. “Gee, thanks.”
“No problemo.” He did the best Arnold Schwarzenegger impression I’ve ever heard.
Elryn facepalmed. “You need to keep him away from your online movie account.”
“Guys, the Guardian is coalescing again,” Vetr said. We turned to see the goo we fried start to bubble up.
“Speaking of Terminators.” I sent another blast of Muspelheim fire at the ichor and scorched it again. I looked around. “Where the fuck is that archangel? He was supposed to get us through the door.”
“Maybe he chickened out. He does have wings,” Vetr replied with a straight face.
I hear they taste a lot like chicken, Ulf quipped.
I rolled my eyes. Okay, I was picking up Elryn’s bad habits. I walked up to the door and looked at the chains across the ironbound entrance. There was no lock or knob to turn. No appreciable way to enter.
I used my magical sight to determine whether there was something I missed. No such luck. It glowed with a dark magic, but I saw no runes or magical sigils present. I tried to imagine how one would open the door to Hell. I looked askance at Tuzren. “You wouldn’t know how to open this, would you?”
The little daemon sighed. “You could always knock.”
I kicked the door with my toe and leapt back with a yelp. “Goddamn-son-of-an-imp!” I shouted as pain blossomed in my foot. I hopped around on one leg, holding my foot in my hand. Damn, they made those doors tough. I focused my healing magic on my foot and felt the pain subside as the bones knitted and snapped back into place.
“Next time wear combat boots instead of sneakers.” Vetr walked up to the door and pounded it with a gauntleted hand. His fist made no noise as he knocked against the door, He roared in pain as he pulled back his hand and cradled it. “What in the Jotnar’s names is this?” He concentrated on the hand and I saw the blue glow of Jotun magic heal it.
“Well, knocking doesn’t work.” Elryn crossed her arms. “Can you call Michael back?”
“Hey Michael! We’re sort of stuck here!” I shouted.
Nothing.
“Michael the Archangel! I humbly ask your assistance!”
Nothing.
“Michael! Michael! Michael!” I spun around, raising my hands in supplication. I had heard they liked that sort of thing.
I shut up and waited. It was deadly quiet except for the occasional burble of the Guardian trying to spring to life again. Tuzren torched it with his own version of a fireball. It crackled and sizzled under the flames.
After all my yelling, we half expecting a horde of demons to come charging down on us. When it appeared that they weren’t going to, I looked down at my blade. The hilt glowed with a red fire.
Maybe there was something to the sword I hadn’t considered.
I drew it and walked over to the door. Looking up at the door, I knocked on it with the pommel.
The door to Hell swung open.
Chapter Ten
We all glanced at each other as a hot breeze wafted through the doorway. I peered inside. The place looked oddly like a Human city, complete with high-rise apartments, businesses, and people milling around and going about their business.
I gawked. There was a Starbucks on the corner of one of the streets, and a McDonalds across from it on the first floor of the high rises. People, dressed in all sorts of garb from different centuries and styles enter the coffee shop and came out with what looked like Frappuccinos. Some were talking, others texting, and still others were on laptops working on something while drinking their espressos, lattes, or whatever drink they found handy.
On the streets ran the usual traffic, only the cars seemed to be out of date. I swear I saw a few Edsels, Gremlins, and Pintos drive by. Then, there were the muscle cars. AC Cobras, Mustangs of all vintages except modern, and even a rare Superbird or two. I gaped at the cars in shock. “This is Hell?”
“Actually, it’s Purgatory.” Michael appeared beside me, nearly causing me to go apoplectic. “The souls here are more the people who weren’t baptized or didn’t believe in our god, but were more or less in the Christian belief system. They didn’t really do anything wrong—they just didn’t do anything spectacular.”
“But the pagan gods take their own.” I pointed out.
“True.” The archangel nodded.
“What’s with the cars and the buildings?” Tuzren hovered above us and zipped around to get a better look at the city.
“Purgatory’s inhabitants got bored. A lot of engineers end up here. None of the pagan gods wanted the automobile discontinued models, so they ended up here. The auto salesmen are in one of the lower levels of Hell and fix people up with the cars they want.”
“Seriously?” I stared at the angel.
“What do they use for money?” Elryn wondered.
“Their time in Purgatory, of course. The salespersons trade the years they have left in Hell as the price of the car. The buyers sell their souls here and add extra years to their punishment. In other words, they increase their stay in Hell or Purgatory for the car.”
“It’s like an auto loan,” I muttered. “You’re on the hook for five to seven years for a car.”
“Try five to seven millennia.” Michael crossed his arms. “Everything you see here that you buy costs time in Hell.”
“Even the Frappuccinos?” Vetr looked longingly at the chocolate chip Frappuccino a blonde-haired woman in a business suit sipped as she sat at an outside table and texted someone.
Michael nodded. “Even the Frappuccinos.”
“Why is a Starbucks here at all?” Elryn’s brow furrowed as she looked over the traffic and the milling crowds. “I thought this was a place of torture and fire.”
“It used to be.” Michael sighed. “But that was before the engineers and the CEOs got involved. The engineers found enough tradespeople to manufacture items they designed and soon the HVAC techs installed air conditioners and the civil engineers designed roads and buildings.”
“They did all this?” I stared at the city.
“They’ve had an eternity to design and work on this.” The archangel shrugged. “They even have 5G cell towers.”
“How’d they get all the equipment?”
“Heaven didn’t want the technology, so Hell’s logistics and procurement engineers wanted it. We didn’t see any reason to not send the technology down here because it often made Hell for living engineers.”
“Blue screen of death,” Tuzren quipped.
Michael nodded. “Plus dropped calls, lack of cell service, and slow speeds. Now, Hell designs, develops, produces, and ships the latest technology.”
“How?” I stared at the archangel. I couldn’t imagine Heaven allowing Hell such power over technology.
“They have front men and women who have connections to Hell. You already discovered one of their servers on the Earth’s side of their network.”
“But how do they get the goods between Universes?” I mused. “They must have a Gateway.”
“Of course they have Gateways. Some of the bigger Gateways are in Silicon Valley, Seattle, China, Japan, New York, and Detroit. As long as the dead don’t leave Hell, the Watchers can do what they want.” He looked annoyed. “Do you want a lesson in Hell’s logistics and materiel or do you want to find your mother?”
I looked chagrined. “Listen, I was kind of expecting Dante’s Inferno, not Township. How are we going to find Sabine in a city, let alone nine layers of Hell that look like something out of Metropolis.”
“Call her.”
I stared at the archangel. “What?”
“You have your phone, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but…” I slowly drew my phone out of my pocket. To my amazement, it showed full bars. I scrolled through the last phone numbers I received and punched “send” when her number came up.
It rang a couple of times before she answered. “Tell me that you’re not here in Hell trying to rescue me.”
“Uh, hi mom, nice to hear from you, too.”
“It’s Sabine. What in Hel’s name are you doing here in the Christian Hell?” She sounded exasperated. “You better not have brought Fenrir…”
“Did he bring the Wolf?” I heard an off-phone voice speak.
“Of course he didn’t…Did you?” She spoke to the other voice, and then to me.
I looked at Ulf, who gave me a wolfy grin. “I…uh…”
“Fuck, Bob! I thought I raised you to think for yourself. I don’t need rescuing! Go home and take Fenrir with you. I can handle things here.”
“Give me that phone.” The off-phone voice sounded irritated.
“Oh fuck no.” Sabine was clearly speaking to the Watcher nearby. “I told you, you don’t get to talk to my son, and you don’t get to boss me around anymore.”
“I should just kill you,” snarled a voice I recognized as Azazel.
