As Darkness Falls by Riley Storm
Chapter Forty-One
Abaddon towered over us, easily fifty feet tall or more. In one hand, he gripped a wicked-looking double-bladed ax, the shaft of which was as wide as I was tall. The gray metal of its edges glowed with etched runes.
Three giant horns sprouted from the twisted human-like face of the demon king, his features larger and thicker than they had any right to be. Pure-black eyes looked down upon us, no pupil to give away the direction of the beast’s focus.
We all but cowered on the ground, our best efforts barely able to let us move our heads. The dank oppressiveness of the demon king was a physical thing, its icy fingers pushing us down simply with his presence.
It was over then; we knew it. Certain death was all that awaited us at this creature’s hands. We watched it come as one cloven hoof the size of a small house stepped forward, the ground trembling at his approach.
We had failed.
Then, all at once, the hand smashing us flat lifted.
Beside us, Vir fought back. We watched as he grew in size, bristling with a vibrant, lively power that flung back the hand of Abaddon. Blue energy coiled around his limbs as he stood taller and taller, spear in one hand, the sword he never used strapped to his waist. Gold armor appeared around his shoulders and down to his torso, while those mysterious darkened bracers on his forearms solidified from the energy.
His wolf’s head sprouted from his human face, angry and defiant. The horns that jutted from his head were just as impressive as those that Abaddon sported, even if there were but two. Fire replaced his eyes, and when Vir slammed the butt of his spear into the ground, a crack in the ground raced out from him toward the demon king.
Perhaps it was just us, but we thought the red-skinned beast hesitated, slightly unsure. Although he was still taller than Vir, there was no denying the sheer power the god was preparing to wield.
“Stand,” Vir commanded as he stood opposed to the demon.
We rose to our feet, our lips peeled back in a wordless snarl. Compared to the two beings in front of us, we were nothing, a mote, a speck of dust to be swept aside, but we weren’t going to go down without a fight. We doubted any mortal would survive a fight between these two beings.
Then, Abaddon surprised us. He lifted one clawed hand, palm outward.
“Peace, Champion.”
The voice of a demon king was like the sound of a mountain speaking. So deep and powerful, like boulders grating against one another, it reached down into our very bones and sent them shuddering.
“There need not be combat,” Abaddon continued, his eyes sweeping over the field of corpses. “There has been much of that already. Come peacefully, and you will be treated as guests.”
Our ears were nearly bleeding by the time the demon finished speaking, his voice just as powerful as his presence. Vir’s power did not seem to protect us from it.
Nearby, Aaron stiffened at the words. Our two-footed mind fought its way to the surface, and a curious whine emerged. We wanted to know what that meant.
“He’s offering to treat us as guests,” Aaron said. “If we accept, that means that Abbadon won’t kill us, and neither will Hades.”
We fixed Aaron with a look. There was a plan that our human mind had, and we knew we weren’t going to back down from it. Our parents were in danger. They came first.
Aaron shrugged at us. We knew he understood what we meant. That we weren’t leaving without the Idol. Yet his response was decidedly bland. The words “your funeral” echoed in our human mind.
We growled at him, doing our best to remind him that he was under contract. He glared. We returned the look, pawing at the ground.
“Fine,” Aaron said angrily, then turned to Vir and Abaddon. “We accept.”
“We are your guests, then,” Vir said, his power subsiding. He swiftly shrank back to a slightly-above-normal human size.
“Very well,” Abaddon said, and without waiting for permission, he reached down. His clawed hands dug into the dirt, and he scooped us up in one massive palm.
We whined nervously, but our companions made no move to resist, and so we didn’t either.
I tore my mind free of the meld and, despite my wolf’s reluctance, pushed her back inside me. Grimacing, I pushed through the pain of the shift, feeling the wounds on my side and leg anew as the skin stretched and pulled taut in new directions.
“Damn, that always sucks,” I grunted as the transition finished, leaving me crouching naked in the palm of a demon king as his wings drove us higher and higher into the air.
Just where I always wanted to be. In the hands of the beast.
The slow metronome beats of the giant wings were almost enough to put me to sleep. Determined not to do that, I shuffled slightly so I could peer through the fingers. My eyes squinted against the moving air as we flew through the sky, and I looked ahead of us to see where we were going.
The ground was rocky and blasted, sloping downward tow–
“Good Lord,” I whispered, stunned at what I saw.
The skin of Abbadon’s fingers near my mouth turned black, the color spreading several feet in every direction. Behind me, my companions gasped.
“I would take it as a favor,” Abaddon said, his voice filtering through the grip of his hands as he spoke to me directly, “if you would not use his name.”
Me. He was speaking to me. Personally.
“Um, okay,” I squeaked, knowing full well he couldn’t hear me. “Yup. Okay. Sure. No problem. I can do that. Yep. You got it!”
Nearby, Fred laughed.
I turned a glare on him, the harshest I could muster given the situation, but Fred just laughed it off. I’m sure the fact that I was crouching naked, using a knee to shield my tits from his view, didn’t exactly help my intimidation level.
Fred just laughed harder.
“I hate you,” I muttered, but there was no heat to my words.
Turning back to the “window” between fingers, I stared in shock at our apparent destination.
The Pits of Tartarus.
A single pathway led down from the rocky landscape that surrounded them, a corridor of rock that led to a giant circular column a mile or more wide rising from the pits themselves. On that flat bit of rock, a gargantuan castle stood, towering over the landscape around it. The scope defied belief. At the center was a spire that stretched hundreds upon hundreds of feet into the air.
I stared, noting that the very top of the spire was adorned by a single chair, allowing whomever sat there the ability to look out over the pits and the lands around for miles unobstructed.
Hades’s throne. It must be. I could think of no other thing.
My eyes were then dragged toward the pits themselves. A writhing, heaving mass of movement that surrounded the rock column, brilliantly lit by what appeared to be flowing magma below it. I stared, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
Something blocked my view.
“Don’t stare too long,” Vir said, his hand cupping my chin, turning my head away. “It’s not great for your soul.”
I shivered, wondering what would have happened if Vir hadn’t torn me away. It had been like standing at the edge of a steep drop, where that tiny part of your mind wondered what it would be like to jump.
We descended toward the castle, its walls taller than most skyscrapers and thicker than an aircraft carrier was long. They were made of solid black rock and appeared to be one single piece of stone. I could make out no seams whatsoever.
Landing in the courtyard, Abaddon set us down with unexpected gentleness, the rocks spilling out from his grip as he released them. We stood. I hated the fact that I was naked.
“Here,” Fred said, removing his shirt and tossing it to me.
“Thanks,” I muttered, pulling the black cotton over my head. He was larger than I was, and while it didn’t quite cover my crotch, it hid the ladies from casual view, and that was going to have to be good enough for now because a second demon was approaching, and we didn’t have time to play dress-up.
“Follow Azazel,” Abaddon rumbled.
Our new guide was much more human-looking, though he still had the trio of horns and cloven hooves. He also sported a tail and deep black facial hair that outlined a grinning face set by two yellow eyes.
“This way,” Azazel said, gesturing to the spire.
We walked into the castle, on alert. Into Hades’s castle. No big deal. Azazel took us down stairs that seemed to go on forever, heading deep into the bowels of the castle. I wondered if he was taking us to the dungeons, but neither Aaron nor Vir seemed bothered. They both walked straight-backed, without worry.
Like they’d been here before.
Okay, I thought to myself while my wolf whined with unease.
Something was still very wrong here.
Eventually, the stairs stopped, and we went down a stone corridor, lit only by torchlight. The walls and ceiling abruptly widened outward as we emerged into a room, richly appointed with thick tapestries on the wall, twin long tables running down the room away from us, benches sitting empty on either side.
Candles flickered on top of the tables, and torches echoed the look on the walls. Plates and cups and bowls of pure gold sat on the tables, waiting to be used.
At the far end of the room was an elevated dais. Upon which sat a throne of red steel, occupied by a man. A very normal, human-looking man. Yet, he couldn’t be human. For only one person would sit on a throne like that in the Underworld.
Hades.
“Well, damn,” I whispered. “Now I’ve met two gods.”
Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. I ignored them, my attention focused on Hades.
“Uh, guys,” I said, nodding at our host. “Is it just me, or does he look…not good.”
Hades was leaning heavily on one side of his throne, looking wan and tired. I’d never seen him at full vibrancy, but something told me that this wasn’t it.
“Something is very, very wrong here,” Aaron murmured.
At the same time, Hades lifted a hand and beckoned us closer.