Drummer Boy: Bat Out of Hell II: Back to Hell
Hi again, folks, Lady D here!
This section took a lot longer to finish than I expected. Like all the other parts, I wrote it over a year ago in February. When I got around to it this January, I didn't like it, so I threw it in the swamp, and rewrote it. That version sucked less, but it still sucked, so I threw it in the swamp too. The next version burned down, fell over and sank into the swamp all on its own, but the fourth version, that one stayed up. So I do hope you enjoy this significantly less swampy installment!
* * *
High above the surface of Tarterus, two nude women hovered. Although they both possessed wings, horns and tails, they couldn't have been more dissimilar.
The one with pale flesh was lithe and athletic, though not without an abundance of the feminine curves that left no doubt as to her sex. Her horns, uncurved, unridged, upward-thrusting spikes, were of the kind only depicted in murals, and had not been seen since the olden times. And her wings were unlike any seen before, breaking the light into scintillating colors where it passed through them.
Her companion, the one with skin of lustrous gold, could best be described as 'more'. She was a meatier woman all over, from her full lips and round belly to her thick, powerful thighs. This was most evident when it came to her stupendously large breasts. They projected proudly from her chest, defying the gravity of this world, and their vast, dusky bronze areolae seemed to gaze across the landscape along with the eyes of the women.
Until now, it had been merely another day for Jason in the Spine city of Sweet Reprisal. He had been going about his morning duties, bringing water to the residents on the upper balconies, when he felt the tingle in his horns: an electric resonance of excitement, spreading among his sisters. Looking up, he saw them, and was arrested by the sight of the strange visitors.
Rumors of the "Golden Avenger", the Winged wreaker of havoc, had certainly had reached his ears, but he had paid them little heed. The talk of warriors, he knew, tended to become more exaggerated the further they were from the front lines. And Sweet Reprisal, close as it was to the Brilliant Antipode, was so far removed from the battle front that Jason trusted almost nothing those returning warriors said.
Yet here, it seemed, was the rumor made real. The sight of this golden warrior, so much like the Bright Lady as to be blasphemous, inflamed his anger. The audacity of this pretender ... sacrilege!
But it was her pale companion that made Jason's stomach churn in disgust. Reminiscent as she was of both the Bright Lady and the loathsome humans... if the Golden Avenger was sacrilege, her companion was an obscenity against nature itself.
Yet, he found he could not look away. And though he could not see them, he could feel his horned sisters around him. They too stood stock still, staring upward as one, waiting for something to happen.
The pale grotesquerie spoke. "I have their minds," she said, in a quiet voice that nevertheless echoed throughout Sweet Reprisal.
Then she began to chant. Jason was no magister, but he recognized Arcanic speech when he heard it. The harsh music of that tongue reverberated in the air. While she chanted, black liquid fell from her lips. It dripped from her chin, oozing down to splash onto her breasts, her stomach, and her legs, before ultimately down to the sand below, where it formed sizzling craters of darkness, from which arose noisome clouds of vapor.
The uneasiness in Jason's stomach increased, and he felt himself suddenly, violently ill. He fell, retching, to his knees. The contents of his stomach emptied out of him, half-digested breakfast splattering onto the balcony floor, and pooling around his feet.
Fighting back the urge to vomit further, Jason looked down into the courtyard, and discovered most of his sisters in the same state. Only a rare few among the convulsing Spines stood their ground, shakily attempting to ready their weapons.
Then, panic. Deeply felt, and blindingly unreasonable.
They shouldn't be here!
Jason's mind cried out.
This shouldn't be! I must get away!
Down below, his horned sisters began to run. Belongings discarded, duties forgotten, some still in the process of regurgitating, they scattered in all directions. They collided with each other, scampered back to their feet, and trampled those too slow to rise. Even the ones who hadn't succumbed to the nausea were not immune to this new chaos. Shouting, they swung their great clubs to keep the crushing mass at bay, or screaming, they fell beneath it.
Jason gripped the rail of the balcony, fighting the urge to jump down into the courtyard. He knew that death awaited him, if not from the fall, then from the writhing chaos below. But the urge to be with them was almost irresistible.
"Death," a voice said. Jason looked up. The golden one had spoken. Her wings beat more rapidly, and her thick mane of black hair whipped furiously around her head.
"Death," she said again, her voice breathy, as if she was tasting the word, and finding the flavor delicious.
"Death!" she said, and this time a glowing sword appeared in her hand. Its radiance was blinding, even for one such as he who had gazed into forbidden heart of the Brilliant Antipode.
Then the Golden Avenger descended upon them, preaching her gospel, a new revelation. Palladia would not save them. The time of The Three had ended. The Golden Avenger would liberate them, not with words, but with agony.
Light and darkness came for him, laughing rapaciously, rending his flesh, flaying his mind, and sucking the marrow from his soul.
* * *
Jason awoke to the sound of drums. Half-time on the bass and snares, syncopated fills peppered in every now and again, just to keep it interesting. Pretty soothing, actually.
Then all at once there came a great shout of many voices, followed by a warbly, buzzy sound from some instrument he couldn't define. It was incredibly loud, and at such a low frequency that he could feel the vibrations rumbling his lungs.
It startled him, so much that he fell right out of the suspenders. Fortunately, he only had a couple of feet to fall. He had been, he realized, hanging by his wrists. The jolt to his senses had made him jerk, freeing his wrists. He landed on the stone floor, knees-first.
"Jesus fuck sonofabitch-!" Jason shouted. He fell backward, clutching his smarting knees. This was a bad move, as he was only inches away from the wall to begin with, and he cracked the back of his head against the stone. Blinded by pain, everything else, including the music, kinda got drowned out for a few seconds.
Jason let himself slump against the wall, taking deep breaths to get his pain under control. Once he was able to think somewhat rationally again, he cautiously flexed his legs. Knees were still a little tender, but nothing seemed to be broken.
"Bright spot there," Jason muttered. "Not everything's bad."
Just then the bass dropped again, and sympathetic vibrations sent the iron links of the room's suspenders into a rattling cacophony.
"I take it back," Jason said aloud. "I hate this place. I hate it so much."
