Inferno 7006

7 OUT OF THE FIRE

Greg immediately felt a bit overstimulated.

For a moment all his brain could remember was the instant of his death, back when he'd been impaled on a spear. Now some kind of shaman was screaming at him through a cloud of greenish smoke. Gathered around the shaman was a group of tribals, their skin pallid and grey.

"What more, my lord?" gasped the shaman. Greg could not make any sense of this question.

He tried to get up, and realized that his body wasn't behaving like he'd expected. That prompted him to look down. His skin was green and scaly, and his hands were enormous talons, with poison dripping from the fingertips.

He tried to get up again, and reflexively flapped his wings, which was when he realized that he had wings. They felt big.

"Hello, everyone," he said.

The shaman cowered.

"My lord," he gasped, "what else could you possibly demand of us?"

Greg had no idea. He decided that his best bet was probably to escape from the situation altogether, which was a lot easier now that he had bat wings. He flapped them twice, ascended into the air, and swooped away.

"Wheeew!" he gasped. He should probably have been more exhilirated at his newfound ability to fly, but his mind was in a bit of a tumult. Everything that had occurred in the Blighted Palace was returning to him. For one thing, he had to get back to Ithuria, because she was the only one who could find Corvel the Burnt for him and thus fulfill his quest. Also, he felt a bit of an obiligation to rescue Dalile. And also, he was now some kind of poison-lizard-bat-god, apparently revered by sickly tribals. That last one he hadn't expected at all.

He was beginning to think that necromancy was a fairly imprecise science.

He circled over the Blighted Forest a bit, admiring the way it spread out in every direction, consuming the horizon. At last he decided he'd better settle down. He swept back to earth, under the shade of the trees, and settled on a rock to think.

"Hmmm," he said.

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," he said.

An idea occurred to him. "Kitra?" he said doubtfully.

He waited, remembering how long this had taken last time.

He waited some more.

The obsidian sword blasted up from underground, did a loop in the air, and landed in his hand.

"Wow," Greg said.

He stooped over the sword-shaped hole in the ground and squinted. There was nothing to see except dirt, and in the utmost distance, total blackness.

"I guess that's where Hell is," he said. "I'm gonna need a lot of shovels."

"Wait a moment," he said. "I wonder if -"

*

"Shouldn't we get naked?" said Greg hopefully.

Sofia shot him a dirty look.

"This is scientific, not Satanic, Greg," she said.

"Whatever."

Six hours before that little exchange, Greg had come to Sofia's apartment, half-drunk and incredibly horny. In a perfect state for some friendly manipulation, Sofia had thought. And in fact he had been very useful. And the ritual had gone perfectly.

It was the aftermath of the ritual that Sofia hadn't expected. For one thing, she'd thought Hell would be a more interesting place than the dim grey cellar she'd ended up in; for another, she'd kind of counted on the Book of Khazaghul, First Sorcerer of the Ark of Infernal Shadows, coming with her. It had not. She'd arrived in Hell empty handed and on fire.

Luckily there'd been a big pool of dirty water in the cellar, which she had hastily rolled in, saving herself from burns and getting extremely muddy and wet in the process. She'd tried reciting the Ritual of Return from memory, but it hadn't worked. At that point she'd been pretty much out of ideas.

Shortly thereafter, a group of tall men with writhing balls of maggots where their faces should have been arrived in the cellar and grabbed her.

Not so much later, she'd been standing in a marble courtyard, wearing some jewels, a piece of pink silk around her hips, and nothing else. Her arms were tied behind her. Her mouth was stuffed with ballgag. There was a champagne tray strapped to her hips.

It wasn't at all what she'd expected from reading the Book of Khazaghul, First Sorcerer of the Ark of Infernal Shadows.

For a long time she'd wandered around that courtyard, offering champagne to demons and getting slapped on the rump as a reward. And then Greg had come into the courtyard, and then he'd been gone, and she had no idea what was going on.

Things weren't getting any better.

Currently she was in a small marble room, lit by a few dim torches, and tied spread-eagled and stark naked between two posts. Across from her was another girl in a similar predicament. Between them were two men wearing purple suits. The two men had twelve eyes and about sixty fingers between them.

"It's just getting boring," said one. "I was thinking maybe – what about boots?"

"What about boots?" said the other.

"I've heard boots are popular. Boots with high heels."

"Why?"

The first man shrugged. "Who understands any of this, really? It's the Duke's domain, not ours."

The second man sighed. "I miss the swamps sometimes, to be honest."

"No you don't." The first man snapped his fingers. "I'm thinking tall boots. Like so."

Sofia shuddered. Thigh-high boots with spiked heels had just materialized on her legs.

"I guess it does have a certain aesthetic appeal," said the second man. "Anything else?"

"Hm." The first man squinted. "Collars?"

"Sure." The second man snapped his fingers. A leather collar appeared on Sofia's neck.

"There," said the first man. "That's new and interesting, don't you think?"

"How should I know?" said the second man. "I don't have a goddamn penis."

The two men left. Sofia was left alone with the other woman, who now also wore boots and a collar.

"Listen to me," said the other woman the moment the men were gone. "I am Natalia, Lifewitch of the Sunwater Valley. I have a plan to escape this vile place."

"I'm ready to hear it," said Sofia fervently.

"It will require a certain amount of degradation and horror," said Natalia, "but I'm reasonably certain it will succeed. Can I count on your help?"

Sofia thought about those odds, and then realized that they were vastly better than any odds she had currently.

"You can count on me, sister," she said.

"I hoped so," said Natalia. "Later tonight we will be in the service of the Dire Lord Skriol, He Who Walks Upon the Deeps. I have arranged it so. Our opportunity of escape will come there."

"Okay," said Sofia. "God, I sure hope you know what you're doing."

*

Later in the endless night that passed for time in the Court of Filth, Sofia was led into a dark garden, where arcane fires burned with the scent of brimstone. It was populated by throngs of demons in crisp black suits, whose batlike red wings fluttered, skeletal, in the light wind. Natalia was already there: chained by the wrists to a crossbar, naked, her mouth locked open by a ring gag. Nubile serving girls tiptoed through the courtyard, wearing scraps of pink silk and carrying trays of black goblets.

The Dire Lord Skriol stood at the head of the courtyard. He looked essentially identical to all the other demons present, except that he was at least a head taller, and he had a set of jet-black antlers growing from his head.

"It is a night of bleak festivities," proclaimed the Dire Lord. "Companions, let us drink to the cause of subjugation and suffering!"

A cheer went up from the assembled demons. Sofia groaned. She was not liking the sound of this.

Demons dragged her to a table and bent her over, binding her wrists behind her back. One of them was twirling something between his fingers. It looked like an extremely fat white worm, as thick as her arm, with some kind of metal binding that squeezed it tightly in its centre.

She didn't have long to wonder what it was for. One of the demons pulled her mouth open, and the other stuffed the worm in, until the metal ring was pressed against her lips. They ran a cord through the ring and tied it to her head. The worm squirmed in her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat.

"Mmmmmrg," she said. It was a disctinctly unpleasant feeling. She could see the other half of the worm wriggling in front of her face.

They dragged her to her feet and turned her around. She watched, sickly, as the Dire Lord Skriol himself approached Natalia, who writhed helplessly in her bondage. He placed one deathly-white finger on her crotch and caressed her cleft.

"You're about to have a remarkable night," he murmured. He raised his other hand to her breast and crushed her nipple between two fingers. She groaned.

"Bring the libation," he ordered.

Another demon hurried to his side, carrying one of the black goblets. The Dire Lord raised it to his lips and drank deeply.

"Aaaaah," he sighed. "Dark wine stolen from the pits of darkest lusts. It inspires a sexual fervour in the drinker that cannot be controlled."

He lifted the goblet to Natalia's lips. She squealed and writhed, but she was helpless to escape, and the thick wine entered her throat. She gurgled and swallowed.

"Bring over the other maiden," bellowed the Dire Lord.

Sofia was dragged over, struggling, and forced to her knees at Natalia's feet. The Dire Lord smiled and siezed her chin.

"Your evening will be eventful too," he said, "though, I fear, not as pleasurable."

Her ankles were chained to rings in the floor; her face was dragged to Natalia's crotch, and the wriggling end of the worm was thrust between the writhing woman's soft lips, into the already-wet orifice beyond.

Sofia struggled, but she couldn't move, and her face was pressed firmly to Natalia's groin. There was no chance of escape. The other woman was already moaning in desperate ecstasy, grinding herself against the worm, slathering her wetness against Sofia's face.

Sofia wondered if this had really been the plan, and if so, how this was going to help them escape, and if Natalia had known about the dark wine and the thick worm. She could have warned me, at least, Sofia thought, as Natalia shrieked in ecstasy.

*

That night seemed to last an awfully long time.

The demons drank and drank from their black goblets, and gnawed raw meat from black bones. The dark wine flowed thick and deep. It wasn't long before the serving girls had their silks torn from their bodies and were thrown across the tables. The demons fucked, reveled, roared, and at one point set all the tables on fire, gathering around to spit into the blaze.

But the centrepiece of the evening's entertainment remained Sofia and Natalia, the two naked women in the centre of the courtyard, one shrieking in unbearable ecstasy, gushing her endless climax on the face of the girl who was chained between her legs. For hours and hours her sexual fervour rose without limit, while Sofia tried weakly to endure as the woman ground against her face and while the worm tormented her throat.

The demons gathered around them in a circle, chanting atonal songs in an unspeakable language, drawing power from their conjoined suffering and ecstasy.

And then they were torn to pieces.

With her face thrust into Natalia's crotch, Sofia couldn't really see what was happening. But she could hear the screams, and she glimpsed spraying black blood and severed limbs from the corner of her eye.

There was a mighty CLANG, and Natalia's chains burst. The two women fell to the ground. Natalia continued to writhe and grind, moaning, while Sofia struggled to free herself. But her hands were still bound behind her back, and she was bound firmly to Natalia's thighs. Struggling was useless.

They lay on the cold stone for only a moment. Then someone was dragging them away, and throwing them into a glowing portal that had materialized in the centre of the courtyard.

And then there was darkness.

*

Sofia blacked out for a moment. When she woke, someone was gently tugging the worm out of her mouth.

"Uuuuck," she gasped.

"Greetings, maiden," said the man before her, a huge slab of muscle in a leather tunic. "I am Ragak, beastslayer of Nordholm and descendant of Thorok. Who lies before me?"

Sofia spat out a mouthful of slime.

"My name's Sofia," she said. "Where the fuck are we?"

Their surroundings were a corridor of dark stone, lit only by patches of phosphorescent moss in the walls.

"The Labyrinth," said Ragak. "One moment. I must attend to my consort."

He leaned over Natalia, who was lying nearby, now utterly unconscious. He put his palm to her forehead and shrugged.

"She'll sleep it off," he said.

"Do you know her?" Sofia asked.

"Of course," said Ragak. "I have travelled with Natalia of the Sunwater Valley for many years, even unto this land of horror and death."

"What happened back there?"

"In the Court of Filth? It is difficult to explain. When I found myself in the Labyrinth, I knew that a great opportunity stood before me, for the Labyrinth is the source of an arcane and mystical power, if one is able to harness it. Its full potential is beyond me, but by walking its halls in particular patterns, one can form portals to wherever one wishes. It's an art I gained from this enchanted ring."

He showed her a ring on his finger.

"So you made a magic portal with a ring?" said Sofia, feeling slightly dazed.

"Essentially," said Ragak. "I brought a creature of great evil with me as well – one of the myriad nightmares that stalk the maze, brought to life by its awful power. It provided enough of a distraction for me to escape with both of you."

He hefted Natalia over one shoulder.

"Now we must go," he said. "I know a wise man who can lend us aid, if we can reach him."