There But For The Grace (25 page)

The damned in that section, now unsupervised, scattered. I’d have preferred to be the only one heading towards the edge of the circle, since I didn’t want to draw attention, but I didn’t have much say in the matter. Instead, I pulled my wings in and tried to blend in with the damned. Eventually, there was distant noise behind us, but there was also enough of a prison break at this point that no arrows came at the small group with me. I figured that they either just had their hands that full, or they assumed that the Bull Demon guarding the gateway between circles would make sure no one escaped. Unfortunately, much as most single Demons wouldn’t worry me, there was a distinct possibility they’d be right.

***

Dante had called the Bull Demon a Minotaur in his accounting of the layers of Hell. His appearances had also helped to spread tales of Baphomet making appearances when called upon, or helped to spread the confusion about whether Marax took the form of a bull that could have the head of a man, or the other way around. The guardian of the gateway between the punishments for the violent and for the heretical was bad enough: a creature of massive strength, endless spite, and little intellect, always happy to vent his rage on would-be escapees. Most of those spirits would just end up back in the Phlegethon, but he’d be quite content to just kill a weakened Angel as well.

We made it all the way to the doorway without anyone pursuing, though I was sure if I couldn’t make this quick, someone would be on us soon. Most of the souls I was with stopped their rush at sight of the massive Demon—fully eleven feet tall, filling the entire gateway. There was a barred portcullis of black iron behind him, but that wasn’t nearly the obstacle the giant was.

I surged ahead of the rest, drawing my sword. The giant exhaled a cloud of toxic mist, which set the people nearest me to coughing so hard they collapsed, clutching at their throats or eyes. The Demon seemed surprised when I didn’t even pause, which let me get the first swing in, leaving a deep gash in his stomach. I’d hoped to do worse, but his flesh was harder than steel. For something so large, it moved quickly, and I wasn’t able to entirely avoid the backhand, which sent me flying. Before it could follow up, others, circumventing the lingering gray mist, tried to reach the portcullis. The Demon grabbed two of them at once, dashing the poor souls together before discarding the bodies. By the time it was tearing the head off a third, I was back on my feet and charging.

This time I caught him across the lower back, and then again with a stab to the side as it turned. I sidestepped its downward smash and cut down, driving my blade into its wrist, resulting in a gush of black blood from the wound. He caught me with the other hand, though, the fist slamming me back into the wall. By the time I’d gotten to my feet, he was on me in a full charge. I barely managed to avoid being impaled by a lowered horn, but the massive shoulder still caught me, smashing me back into the indestructible barrier again.

He raised both hands to smash down on me, but I kicked out hard at one ankle, taking his foot out from under him. I rolled aside as the monster fell forward, smashing his head into the wall. I was still too unsteady to move quickly, though, and got caught by a flailing arm, going flying back, dragging along through the dirt and stone ground. The Bull Demon stood again, bellowing all the way, before assessing the twin situations. A couple of the damned souls were trying to fit between the bars of the portcullis, while I was trying to use my sword like a crutch to stand. I was the more immediate threat, but if anyone actually escaped, whoever served as taskmaster to this guardian would punish him. I thus had a moment longer to get to my feet and recover, while the Bull Demon attacked the near escapees before they could finish squeezing between the bars. There was another exhalation of the gray mist, dropping a couple more of the damned and forcing the few others still standing to back away from the portcullis. After that, he paid them no more attention, coming for me again. I tried to time my leap as best I could, just as he lowered his head. The horns missed me again, and I was able to vault over him, though I landed poorly. I was getting back up as he came around and rushed again. Unable to fully get my balance enough to vault him again, I lashed out with my sword at his head level and side-stepped. The edge of a horn tore into my chest, leaving an ugly wound, then I was knocked aside by his shoulder. I rolled out of the way before he could trample me.

I expected him to follow up at any moment, but instead, heard pained bellowing. He was crashing around, clutching at his face, and I realized that I’d managed to rake my blade across his eyes before he hit me. While he was struggling, I dragged myself towards the portcullis, leaving a trail of blood as I did. I had to use the wall, as well as my sword, to stand up. I was about to try my hand at cutting down the gate when I heard the bellowing stop and the snuffling begin. Though black blood was still streaming from his face, the massive Bull Demon was sniffing at the air, trying to locate me again. One huge hand smashed aside one of the damned who was trying to sneak past him, demonstrating how efficient his other senses were. I tried to lift the gate, to see if there was a quicker solution, but it wouldn’t budge without a lot more effort. Likewise, all I accomplished in testing my sword’s edge on it was distinctly getting the giant’s attention. I had to turn away, however slowly, to face the charging Demon as he came back at me. I’d gone over him before, like the Minoans of old, and was pretty sure it wouldn’t work again, even with him blinded. So instead of going high, I went low. As he came near enough, rolled to the side and stayed crouched, swinging my sword. True to my guess, he kept his head higher so I couldn’t get over him, but that allowed me to avoid his horns, and strike at his ankle level with my blade. He pitched forward with all his momentum, crashing at full speed, head-first into the gates.

When the Demon rose again, pulling his horns free of the black iron, he took a couple of the iron bars with him, while others were bent and deformed. The Demon shook his head, trying to reorient himself. I dove at the gateway and pulled myself through. A couple of the damned followed through, while at least one other didn’t make it past the Bull Demon. I could hear his screams behind me as I dragged myself out of the circle of punishment for the violent and into the realm of the heretical. I sat up as soon as I could, looking at the gates behind me. The monstrous Demon was showing signs of recovery but, between the blindness and the impact, hadn’t caught on to what had happened yet, while others were still trying to scramble around him to escape.

I left them to their own devices and started the steep ascent. Unlike the passage between the Seventh and the Eighth, this, at least, was no vast cliff, but it was still a steep incline, meant to mark and separate the two at the borders. The most difficult border still lay further ahead of me, but for the moment, this was trouble enough. I had to eventually sheathe my sword, hoping nothing would come after me too soon, and clutch at my chest and the fresh wound, while pulling myself upward with one hand.

***

I could hear the voices behind me not long after, cresting the top of the severe slope. I couldn’t identify them initially, but at least didn’t pick out Gadreel’s. The way before me was a vast plain, full of fiery tombs, with flames and smoke of varying intensity. There were occasional guard patrols of Demons here, and no doubt, they’d bring plenty more people in soon in search of me and the other escapees who came with me. Gadreel and his Fallen would also doubtless come this way soon, but for the moment, I had just a little time.

The first thing I absolutely had to do was stop the bleeding. In addition to the obvious dangers, it also left a trail that they didn’t even need hounds to follow. I wouldn’t escape anyone that way. I pulled myself up, having to use my sword as a cane now, and moved to the nearest tomb with truly white hot flames. The damned soul trapped within might be rendered invulnerable to the heat, even if they felt at every moment as if they were burning alive. I managed to use my blade to strip away a portion of the white-hot metal of the door, and used it to cauterize my wounds, biting down on the hilt of my sword to keep from screaming.

With the bleeding stopped, I cut open the tomb door, finding it giving way much more readily than the black iron bars below had. These were designed to stop single mortal souls, not Angels or the occasional frustration of the bull Demon or similar beings. I moved to the next tomb, cutting it open as well, and down a row, adding to the escapees they’d have to track down, and leaving a false trail, before I ventured further into the maze of flaming tombs, hoping they’d take a while before resorting to hounds.

Gadreel might not be sure how injured I really was, or how much blood I’d lost, so I hoped he might think I’d head straight for the barrier. For now, I had to rest, or I’d collapse. I finally found a few likely looking tombs, the metal walls kept heated, the insides likely so hot that breathing would become torturous—but without the active flames from beneath. I cut into the doors and released the grateful prisoners, though I hushed them and told them to hide for as long as they could. I couldn’t offer them any longer-term solace, but it was something, both a temporary respite for them, and, ultimately, for me.

The inside of the tombs was, indeed, well beyond mortal comfort, but wasn’t going to hurt me. I’d done my best to leave as little obvious damage as I could to the door, and closed it behind me. Rest came slowly, with every sound snapping me back to attention, but eventually, exhaustion, blood loss, and injury caught up to me.

Just as in Dante’s account, those within the tombs were granted visions of the future, of sorts. Unlike Iaoel’s visions, they weren’t necessarily accurate to events, and were often colored by the particular heresies of those trapped within, adding to their torments as they saw visions of what might have been, or the damage their beliefs had wrought. I received visions of a sort as well, with the same questionable accuracy. I couldn’t be certain what effect resting here would have on me, but the dreams, or visions, were certainly lucid ones.

I dreamed that I stood before a great door, cracked open. I could hear voices through it, but not those of Demons. Adelaide’s voice, and then a male’s. I couldn’t hear what Adelaide said, but the other voice was crisp and clear, if chilling. “It is not yet his time.”

In the dream, the doors cracked open, and a pale light filtered through them. Beyond, I could see shadows of people waiting. There were more muted words from Adelaide, and then another female voice, again, clear, but quiet. “Even I cannot storm the gates of Dis. But they don’t know that. As long as they watch the invaders from without, they may not see the one from within. And so we wait.”

I still couldn’t make out Adelaide’s voice, but she sounded at first upset, and then, perhaps, accepting. The doors opened wider, and I saw more movement from the three shadows beyond. A bit more, and I was able to make out Adelaide, standing with the Angel of Death and the Angel of War, waiting. Suddenly, Lucifer loomed behind them, reaching for Adelaide’s shoulder.

She didn’t notice that, and her amulet had been glowing from the start, providing no warning here. The door opened a little more, and Adelaide’s eyes widened, looking through the portal, before shouting, “Tab, look out! He’s coming!”

I woke with a start. It was quiet outside at first, but then I heard screams and wails, followed by angry shouting. I was far from fully recovered, but my thoughts were clearer, and my Angelic nature had allowed some small bit of recuperation. I channeled all of my limited healing power into closing my wounds and reinvigorating myself, wishing I had more knack for the art. At least I was able to stand, if a bit unsteadily, on my own.

“He’s here. He freed me from this one!” Came the voice from outside. A door creaked open nearby, followed by begging, pleading, and attempts at bargaining as the damned soul was thrown back into his prison. I still couldn’t get any assessment of who was outside, or in what numbers, but they’d find me soon. I stopped my efforts at healing, and readied myself, moving to one side of the tomb door as they searched the next nearest tomb.

As soon as the tomb door opened, I lunged, decapitating the Demon overseer outside. Another quick cut killed another Demon close to him, while my wing hit the throat of a third. That was all of the group that I was able to silence quickly, and an alarm went up. I killed the Demon who started shouting first, but the damage was done. The other two managed to ready their weapons and attacked, putting me briefly on the defensive. When one got over-aggressive, I put my sword through his neck and shoved his body into the other, taking his head before he’d gotten disentangled. I dispatched the one I’d hit with my wing while he was rising, finishing off this group.

There was noise all too close, more of them coming. I spotted one of the Grigori—not Gadreel, but bad enough. He shouted Gadreel’s name and started towards me, lifting off and flying towards me fast. More Demons appeared, obviously on a full-scale hunt, and joined in the pursuit. I limped along as best I could, ducking behind the tomb I had hidden in to rest, before heading for another, with all the speed I could manage.

Two Demons found my new hiding place first, but I silenced both before they could call anyone else over. I heard the Grigori shouting for the Demons to spread out and find me at all costs. A couple of the Demons questioned if he planned to defend them if they were called to task for letting damned souls out of the river, and he responded by assuring them that he’d kill them if they disobeyed. The voice of another of the Fallen joined in, calling out orders from another direction, once he ascertained what had happened, and the hunt was on.

There would be no more rest and no more chances to recover. I had to hope my vision meant something, for the next circle was an intensely dangerous one. Even before that, I had to find a way to get beyond one of the most intimidating structures ever built: the walls of Dis. Even before then, I would face one more rise, with no structures, and no cover. Anyone pursuing closely enough would see me as I climbed, and those on the walls would have a clear line of fire. Worse, all of those entrusted to watching the impenetrable walls were Fallen, with weapons far more dangerous than those of the Demons. The walls of Dis separated those circles designed for pettier, or simpler sins, such as lust, greed, or anger, from the more complex, such as the circle for the heretical where I was, the realm of premeditated violence I had escaped, and even greater depths beyond.