BURN IN HADES (17 page)

“One, two, three…” The next number eluded her. “One, two, three…” She got stuck again.

“Four,” said a voice.

She spun her head around, side to side and found a smudge on the frosty canvass. A Nothing clutched to the snowy rock. It squirmed as if it were alive. She stared in disbelief and blinked in an effort to fight the hallucination.

Nothings never spoke or moved. They were nothing after all, only remnants of a shell of a forgotten soul who had died twice. It was the worst state of being. She’d rather have been born a squal than to ever be a Nothing. Being a Nothing wasn’t being at all. It was just there, hollow and ashy, sucked dry of anything resembling life. It definitely couldn’t have spoken. The mountain was screwing with her head. It wouldn’t have been the first time the underworld had gotten into her mind.

She turned away from the Nothing and gazed out into the grey clouds which blanketed the underworld from her perspective way up on the mountainside. A dark splotch swirled over the area where the Inferno would be. That blemish twisted, and the clouds opened like a curtain and uncovered the mountain of fire. She sat up amazed at the view, but assuming she was still imagining things that weren’t actually happening.

A face waded within the smoke that spewed out of the volcano. The devilish profile swayed and rippled in the heat waves. It stared at her, into her, and through her. The hairs on her body saluted.

Only the master could venture so close to the Inferno without being smote. It was his domain. She scooted backward and bumped the wall behind her. Unlike an angel meeting their father, a demon meeting the master was never a good thing. When the master wanted what he wanted out of a demon, he took it.

For the second time in many sleep periods, the Inferno erupted. The entire underworld below her released a collective gasp. Molten lava spouted into the sky and slipped down the volcano into the fiery pits of Hell.

The explosion appeared more devastating than the previous one when the Nwa-Efé had dropped her off the colossus, but she remained unaffected by it because of her height above the underworld.

The clouds snapped back together and veiled the Inferno once again. The obsidian mountain shivered. Pebbles rained down from above. The mountain cracked and chipped under her. The shelf where she was sitting broke off.

She scrambled up and tumbled backwards twice, slid down the mountain on her back and sailed off a slope into the openness. She grabbed at air. Her legs flailed through the red clouds for several hypnotizing seconds.

Hours’ worth of climbing progress erased as she dropped. She slammed onto the mountain on her back. Bones snapped. She screamed with all the agony of those who had suffered at her hands.

She continued to slide downward on her broken spine until she collided with an outcropping in the mountain. Her legs flipped over her head and she landed on her stomach, still sliding.

She plunged her bank nakhs into the wall one by one, fighting the pain in her back. The tiger claws sank into the obsidian. The blades scrapped the crust and sliced up shiny rock, leaving behind slashes on the face of the mountain, and she jolted to a stop twisting her back more.

Her legs swung side to side above the nothingness below. If she had a heart, it would have hammered at her chest then. She dangled there, broken. The sound of her ragged breath washed over her. If her tear ducts weren’t frozen, her cheeks would have flowed with rivers of emotion. Her cry exploded, dry and bitter.

“You have work to do.” Disappointment waved in the master’s voice, but it was a Nothing who was speaking. It peeled itself away from the mountain, leaving pieces of itself still attached to the rock. It stood over her, crumbling and chipping away in the wind. She grew curious, but not too anxious to find out what work it was speaking of, but didn’t dare question the master.

The Nothing reached for her as if it was going to help her up the ledge, but it simply placed its palm flat against her back. Warmth filled the area where it touched her. The pain lifted as if her spine had never shattered. A sudden burst of energy flowed through her muscles. She regained her numerical skills. The frostbite in her limbs thawed.

She hung there stunned for a few seconds, not because she had been miraculously healed, but because Master wanted something out of her. She didn’t want to find out its agenda, but knew she would eventually, whether directly or indirectly. The master always won, and demons always lost.

“Take this gift and do not delay,” said the master. “Climb!”

The Nothing returned to its home within the rock without offering her a hand up the ledge.

A total of twenty-one periods of sleep on the mountain and she still hadn’t reached the summit somewhere in the black clouds. She still didn’t know exactly where on the mountain the realm of Mictlan rested. She had been blindly following the legends and stories she had learned.

About an hours’ worth of climbing above her, she spotted an archway carved directly in the rock face. It led directly into the mountain. That had to have been the entrance to the realm of Mictlan. If not, it would at least be her pit stop. She wanted to get the hell off that damn mountain. It continued to jut up into the sky; the summit remained out of view.

Through the archway stood countless flags staked in the snow, waving in the piercing wind. They were the flags of souls who had conquered the mountain before her, all aged and ripped. The wind sliced her cheek, leaving a paper cut-like slit.

She pulled the veiled hood over her face, and followed the stone path into the realm of Mictlan. Numerous Nothings littered the bending trail. There were more burned souls in that area than she had seen anywhere else on the mountain. What burned them all? She halted.

Soosh.
A projectile flew her way. She leaned back and sliced it out of the air with the bagh nakhs. The broken pieces of an arrow fell into the snow.

Another one darted out from the snow on her left. She chopped it out of the air. A barraged of arrows shot at her from either side. She sprinted forward, ducking and swatting, dodging and rolling until no more arrows shot out.

Those arrows weren’t shot by anyone. She would have smelled them. They must’ve been automated. Apparently, the Mictlan security system didn’t end with the squals, the river, or the mountains. It may have just begun. She’d tread carefully from here on out.

Clem Balfour must’ve truly been in love with Manauia. That’s the only reason any soul would go this far and endure such booby traps. Love made souls do stupid things. Diamond Tooth was fortunate that she was incapable of loving anything.

She continued along the winding path, this time stepping cautiously through the crunching snow, her eyes peeled for danger, and her nose flared for warning scents. She detected something in the air. It smelled like an animal or beast of some kind. The stench grew stronger the longer she followed the path.

She reached another area where Nothings where scattered about in the powder. Hairy beasts that resembled disfigured elephants slogged over the Nothings. Their snouts sank into the chests of burned souls and seemed to drink whatever essence remained inside. The beasts had no eyes, yet they all turned their attention to her presence as if they saw her. They raised their snouts.

She prepared to shoot them, but hesitated. Their nature appeared non-threatening. They surrounded her and sniffed at her chest curiously, specifically over her heart. If they wanted to suck her heart dry they were out of luck. She didn’t have one. They plodded away empty snouted.

She followed the trail around a bend, crossed a narrow path of stone that led into the city and finally entered the realm. The reddish-blue gloom there welcomed her and made her feel much more at home than the bright paradise of Mag Mell. But the realm was less icy than she had expected. Dry earth cracked underneath her boots as she passed buildings built of bone. The pyramids of Mictlan were shorter than those in Amenthes and had flat tops. Carvings of skulls decorated them.

Unlike the righteous in paradise, the spirits of Mictlan were aware of her presence. Each native she passed halted their harvesting duties and construction work to watch her stroll by. It became obvious that they weren’t used to visitors and didn’t like strangers.

She stepped off the main road. She didn’t mind their stares. She liked all eyes to be on her, but it was best not to attract attention.

Members of the Tribulation gang, decked out in their trademark white uniforms, lounged around a temple. They stood out in stark contrast to the vibrantly colorful garb of the Mictlan natives.

The lively bunch of soldiers harassed every native woman that walked in and out of the temple, laughing and joking. Diamond Tooth could smell the native women’s disgust. Strangely, she didn’t spot any Mictlan men. The Tribulation must’ve slaughtered them all and took the women.

The fact that Clem Balfour ran with that gang instilled more confidence in her that she would find him there. But the gang would never give up one of their men. Even if they did squeal after a bit of torture, there would be too much of a chance that they’d tip off Clem Balfour and he’d disappear again. The quickest and easiest way to find him would be through Manauia—whoever and wherever she was.

Diamond Tooth cut across the road to avoid any interaction with the Tribulation gang members. One of the soldiers whistled at her. She kept walking.

“You,” said the soldier. “Come here.”

She walked faster. He raced up to her and grabbed her arm. She shot a glance down at his grip on her, and held herself back from burning him.

“Where you going so fast?” he said. “I just wanna know your name.” He released her arm and ogled her up and down. “Longs legs you got there. Where’ve have you been all my afterlife? Can buy you? Just for tonight?” Obnoxious grin slithered across his face.

She stepped away from him.

“What’s the matter?” he said. “You too good for me? You dirty whore.”

She would have burned him right then and there, but the rest of the soldiers would gang up on her. Not that she couldn’t take them all, but it would be an unnecessary detour from her goal, and could possibly scare Clem Balfour away if he was around. She was already drawing too much attention just by being present in the realm.

She closed her eyes focused on Manauia’s scent. She picked it up easily as it was a true name. It stank with the repugnant stench of love. She hated the aroma, but its strength was growing, getting closer, fast.

Diamond Tooth snapped her neck up and down the road, searching. A wagon full of Tribulation soldiers slid in front of the temple. The men tossed a woman off the side of the wagon. The woman plopped into the dust.

“You savages!” she said, sobbing.

The soldiers rode away hooting and hollering. The woman picked herself off the ground.

It was Manauia. She was dressed like all the other women of Mictlan, a tight ankle-length skirt with slits up the sides that revealed a lot of leg and a bare midriff top that showed off her flat stomach.

Diamond Tooth followed Manauia down the dirt road to a modest house made of bone. A giant bat sat perched on the roof of the house.

“You’re a very long way from Xibalbá,” said Manauia.

The bat shrieked and flapped away. Manauia stepped inside the bone house and shut the door.

Diamond Tooth waited awhile before slipping into the home through a rear window. She found the home pitch dark, but she possessed the ability to see clear as day in the darkness. The bedroom she was standing in was filled with the bland, generic odor of Clem Balfour’s false name. He had been there not too long ago. He had been with Manauia on the bed.

Manauia entered the bedroom waving a lantern and walked right past Diamond Tooth. She caught a whiff of the lanterns history. It smelled of delicious turmoil. It had been handed down to Manauia from a soul that cherished her, most likely Balfour.

Manauia sat the lantern on a table and its flickering light landed on Diamond Tooth.

Manauia gasped and jumped back. “Who are you?”

“I’m looking for Clem Balfour.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name.”

Manauia reached for the lantern. Diamond Tooth shoved the woman to the floor before she could grab the object.

“Lying will only make this go from bad to worse.” Diamond Tooth wrenched Manauia from the floor and smacked her with the back of her hand. Four red slash marks grew on her cheek and dripped red.

“Tell me where he is,” said the demon.

Manauia caressed her sliced face and shuddered. Diamond Tooth slapped her other cheek. The woman twirled and fell onto the bed. Her top ripped open in the fall. She gripped her torn garment and closed the gap exposing her flesh.

Beating the woman lifted the demon’s spirits a little, but Diamond Tooth remained more focused on the information surrounding Clem Balfour than anything else. Finding him before he eluded her again was her top priority. After the hell she went through to get to Mictlan, she wasn’t about to go soft on a woman just because she was a woman. Diamond Tooth raised her clawed fist.

Manauia held out her trembling hands. “Stop! I don’t know where he is. He packed his objects several sleep cycles ago and left with his gang.”

“Which company? Where’d they go?”

“Tribulation’s Third Hussars, under General Simeon. They left for Kurnugia many sleep periods ago. That’s all I know. I swear.”

“How many sleep periods?”

“I didn’t count. I never count my sleep. But that wouldn’t have helped you anyway. Clem rarely sleeps. He’s always on the move.”

Diamond Tooth snatched Manauia’s lantern from the table. “This is an object isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Manauia. “It was a gift.”

“From Balfour?”

“Please don’t take it.”

Diamond Tooth gripped the lantern’s handle and stepped out of the room. The world blurred around her and when she halted, she found that in just a few steps she had already crossed the narrow path of stone outside of the realm.

She stood there in amazement, gazing into the lantern’s flame. A couple more steps and she flew past the heart-eaters, zipped through the lane of shooting arrows and the forest of rippling flags.