Silent Requiem (Tales of Ashkar Book 3) Page 13

  “Hey, you all right?” asked Gilbel, and Quinn realized that he must have held that same frown just then.

  “Are you sure that we should be going in there?” Quinn asked, ignoring the question in favor of more pressing matters.

  Gilbel smiled nervously. “Oh, yeah. With the blood of—I mean with that weird thingy of yours we'll be just fine. That's where your friends are, anyway… probably… I think.”

  Quinn narrowed his eyes at the demon, but shifted his attention to the giant gate ahead. They were almost to Bastion Return's entrance, and if the demon was right, he could not turn back no matter what. He heard grunting and the sound of metal striking earth and looked down below at the boiling lake. It seemed that construction in Hell was an indefinite procedure, which kind of made sense in a way. If damnation was perpetual, then surely everything else was.

  Quinn expected to see a cruel taskmaster barking orders and punishing workers who were behaving disobediently or not being productive enough, but found that the image he was seeing was far from that.

  The pit of lava was actually further down than Quinn thought, and he estimated it to be several-hundred feet below. Streams of lava flowed downward like fiery waterfalls to the bottom, and a network of ramps and catwalks made of the same metal were connected all the way down. In the center was a crude pulley system that lowered a platform to any of the connecting ramps.

  The productivity was plentiful. He witnessed hundreds of figures—some like Gilbel, others who looked like aeuviai, like titanai, and still others who Quinn did not recognize—performing tasks of many kinds. Smithing, building, carrying, and so forth. Some of the objects being worked on were massive, appearing like huge battering rams or large ships meant for sailing.

  They were all made of the same material, the metal that was used for nearly everything forged. At the edges of the circular precipice that Bastion Return was built atop of were more demons striking earth with tools and mining anything precious. That must have been where all the metal came from.

  “Pretty cool, right?” asked Gilbel excitedly, as if everything before Quinn was a product of the demon's work. “Wait until you see it from the inside!”

  “I… guess so?” Quinn returned with a smidgen of befuddlement at all that was around him. From what he was gathering, Hell was more than just a place where those who lived sinful lives went. What use did crafting weapons, armor, and other tools of war serve? “Are there other factions?”

  “What do you mean?” asked the demon.

  Quinn scratched the side of his head. “Well, what are all these weapons being built for and why this heavily fortified city? Are there other groups of demons out there who you're fighting?”

  The demon did not answer immediately, and it was clear that he was being very careful about the words that he was going to answer with. “No, it's just us. Unless we're talking about the Shadow.”

  Quinn furrowed his brows. “Shadow? What is—?”

  He caught himself before he finished as the two stopped and looked up to marvel at what lay before them. They had reached the city. At the end of the bridge was a large, circular platform with no direction to go other than forward to the gate or backward to where they came from.

  They walked a few more steps and stopped just in front of the massive gate to the entrance of the large city. It was far larger than Quinn felt was needed, unless the demons had to fit things much, much larger than themselves through. Of course, there was no shortage of spikes jutting out from the gate in addition to redundant chains.

  Over the gate was a massive arch connected to the high walls on either side. Above that arch was a fortified alcove reminiscent of one of Arcadia's guard towers. The two of them waited for a few moments until a skeletal head poked out from the large, rectangular slit from the alcove.

  “Who's down there?” commanded the demon.

  “Just a couple of guys,” Gilbel answered quickly. “Nothing to see here, just a couple of regulars, you know?”

  The demon above inspected Gilbel very briefly before moving to Quinn, and his gaze stayed there for far too long. Quinn peered to his left nervously, though Gilbel shook his head an inch from left-to-right in a quick, discrete fashion.

  “Peel back that hood, will you?” called down the skeletal figure. “I want a good look at your—”

  Gilbel muttered something that was unintelligible to Quinn, and the demon above silenced immediately.

  Quinn raised a brow. What the demon had just spoke sounded like a spell similar to the ones that he used to say with his grimoire. It appeared that Gilbel wasn't as helpless as Quinn had initially thought of the demon. First, the ability to stop the demonic energy from spreading further toward his body. Now, freezing another demon in its tracks with a few words. Even the most unassuming of demons had tricks, it would seem.

  “En utte Lion,” shouted Gilbel up above, and the skeletal figure's expression shifted to that of shock. “Gish tote bulgil. Gish tote bulgil, vi hul desn riuil.” If Quinn were to guess, the demon almost had a heart attack, though not from a spell. It rushed out of sight, and it wasn't long before the gate started rumbling.

  En utte Lion. What does that mean?

  “Let's go,” beckoned Gilbel, who had rushed under the still raising gate to the inner contents of Bastion Return.

  Quinn rushed inside also, and discovered that it was just as spiky on the outside as it was on the inside. The most striking image was that of a large spire in the city's center, built on top of a steadily rising set of structures all rising and culminating at the top like a ridge. The structures were built side-by-side, which made it all seem like just one big one. Like below, ramps and catwalks were built at the edges, with figures moving in-and-out of rectangular-shaped holes like the School of Eight's Grand Library. Rather, it was more like several Grand Libraries put together.

  The outer rim, close to the walls of the city, consisted of a much more open space. Small settlements dotted the streets. It kind of reminded him of Arcadia, if someone had thrown a bunch of chains everywhere, drizzled it with the bony spikes of the largest of behemoths, and set it on fire.

  “Let's get to the Lord's Throne,” said Gilbel as he moved toward the central spire.

  Quinn scrambled after the demon, lest he find himself surrounded by hungry demons again. He soon realized that he already was, with dozens of pairs of eyes turning in his direction as they passed the inhabitants of Bastion Return.

  He easily recognized some of them as aeuviai, titanai, and that of Gilbel's nature. He also noticed a few mounts, mules, and loyal monsters that reminded him of Garjuun, though they were not all quite the same. Some of them had tails, others did not. Some had longer heads with sharp teeth, and some had shorter heads and thicker bodies.

  There were other types of demons who he was unfamiliar with. Some of them floated in the air and reminded him of the kinds of ghosts that were passed around at the School of Eight to spook others.

  He also noticed some demons who were furry, with powerful claws and massive maws. Initially, he had thought them Hellbeasts like the others, but they were bipedal and stood upright with slight hunches. They had long limbs, a hairless tail that actually split into two tails ending in what looked like bulbous tips, and a set of horns that rose from their temples and curved upward. The horns reminded him of the ones that aeuviai had.

  Most of the demons were curious at Quinn's presence as he drifted by. Others had clear displeasure strewn about their faces, and he wondered if he was going to be attacked then and there. No attacks flew in his direction, though he did catch the word 'Shadow' thrown around a few times. He did not stop to question them.

  “Why does everything seem so… organized?” asked Quinn as he caught up to Gilbel. “And why is the place that we're going called the Lord's Throne? Oh, and one more thing. Where are my friends?”

  Gilbel groaned. “What is this? A first date? Spin me some more questions while you're at it.”

  Quinn wasn't moved. �
�I thought that you were proud of this place. Looks pretty sordid to me.”

  The demon stopped in his tracks and cocked an eye at Quinn. The gaze held, and Quinn could not help but smile sheepishly. “Pretty good, for a human.”

  “So, how about you start showing off this place again like you did not too long ago?” Quinn continued.

  “If God, or whatever it is that you believe—what do you believe in?” asked the demon, like he realized for the first time that there was something that he did not know and the realization hit him like an angry Garjuun.

  “Uh… I don't really know anymore.” Quinn responded. “Given all that is around us, what do you think that I should believe in?”

  “I believe that it's up to you to decide.” continued Gilbel. “Think about this: if your god was right next to you, would you do something he or she deemed disappointing? That answers your first question.”

  Quinn stopped for a moment to think about the answer. “No, not really.”

  “Good,” Gilbel said.

  By now, they had reached one of the large, oval-shaped openings that fed into one of the main central structures. The sound of demons toiling once again filled his ears as they entered into a long corridor with several large, square-shaped rooms on either side. Lining the walls were braziers molded in the shape of skulls, with fires raging within skeletal mouths opened wide. On their way down the corridor, Quinn caught glimpses of stores of weaponry, armor, and similar machines of war that he had seen being worked on when they had crossed the bridge. He tried to stop and inspect some of the rooms further, but was yanked by Gilbel's surprisingly strong hand each time.

  “So you want to know why it is called Lord's Throne?” asked the demon, the tone of his voice reminding Quinn of a parent speaking to a child. It was like Quinn had a short attention span, and the question diverted his attention from what was around them to Gilbel instead.

  “Sure,” answered Quinn as he pulled tighter his hood. Eyes continued to stay fixed on him as he passed the inhabitants of Hell. A small crowd had gathered behind them, and followed their every movement. Even demons thought him out of place, a thought that brought a smile to his lips when before he might have frowned.

  “It's easy, the currently free Lord takes his or her place atop the throne and commands the legions of Hell,” Gilbel explained. “Remember who I said was in control right now?”

  “Lion, right?” Quinn answered.

  “You got it,” praised the demon.

  Quinn stopped once more and poked his head through a doorway less-than-inconspicuously as his eyes darted from inside the room to Gilbel's face several times.

  The demon appeared visibly annoyed at Quinn's actions, and reached over to pull the human away.

  Quinn darted around the demon, rushing past him before Gilbel could grab his wrist. Gilbel muttered a curse under his breath and chased after the speed-walking human.

  “Are those Hellbeasts?” Quinn asked as he jerked his chin to one of the bipedal beasts. The creature was not pleased at Quinn’s gesture in the slightest.

  “The furry ones are called Zorvinai, like I told you,” said Gilbel as he caught up to Quinn and once again took point. “The floaters are Rimasai. You do remember our conversation, right? Just add ai to whatever spawn they are.”

  “Why ai?” asked Quinn.

  “Why I oughtta?” added the demon, though Quinn gave him a puzzled look. “It was a joke. My goodness do humans even have a sense of humor? Oh, just forget it. Ai means child in K'oreth. So, child of Zorvinus, child of Rimas, so on and so forth.”

  Quinn sighed in disapproval. “You really should stop doing that.”

  “What, the jokes?” Gilbel defended. “Come on, this is Hell. Might as well enjoy it here. It's not like we have anywhere to go for all of eternity. Right? That's what they say on Ashkar. Eternal perdition and all of that good stuff.”

  “No, no, no,” corrected Quinn as he wagged his index finger in the air. “Every time that you say something, half of it I don't understand, which means that I come up with five more questions.”

  Gilbel shook his head. “Uh-uh. No take backs. You wanted to know all about this place, so it's my time to show off. Take it, little human.”

  If that last portion was an insult, Quinn did not let it sway him. “You're half my height, remember?”

  The demon did not respond, for they neared the end of the long corridor and were presented by a wide space that was the center of the set of structures at the heart of Bastion Return. Directly in front of them, adjacent to them, and at the opposite corner of the area were the three other similar metallic, multi-layered buildings that culminated together.

  Directly above them was the floating spire that shot up into the sky, with large chains connected to each of the four structures. Ramps connected from the rooftops of the structures to the entrance of the spire.

  In the center of the open area was a circular hole that marked the entrance to the vast network down below, with the pulley system Quinn noted from earlier attached to the spire as well. It was manned by a few larger, more powerful looking titanai who hoisted the chains up-and-down, which in turn moved metal platforms down below.

  “Let's hurry, Lion awaits my counsel,” ordered Gilbel as he nearly flew into a sprint toward one of the ramps that ascended upward.

  Quinn stared at the demon's back incredulously. “Wait, you want to speak to—”

  “We've no time to waste,” interrupted Gilbel, who was already halfway up the nearest ramp. “After that we will find your friends, I promise you.”

  Steeling himself, Quinn started after the demon. He peered over his shoulder, noticing that the congregation of curious demons had stopped at the foot of the ramp and remained looking up at him as he ascended. Up and up they went, each ramp leading up to a platform like a large balcony.

  On the opposite side of the platform was another ramp jutting out from the side of the building, with a similar opening on the left just above the opening that they had exited out of not long ago. As he passed the opening, he peeked inside, and he felt déjà vu washing over him; the corridor was identical to the one just below them, with rows and rows of doors that led to rooms he presumed also served as armories.

  It wasn't long before they were at the top of the building, and they stepped onto the last ramp leading up to the start of the spire. Quinn looked down below at the base level, which was a couple hundred feet below him, where the platforms descended into the pits. From up here, one could take a good look at the surrounding areas. The land was mostly barren of course, but an odd anomaly caught Quinn's eye to the northwest.

  A bright light, white and pure, stood atop the horizon beyond. Quinn had never seen anything like it before, and was perturbed on the grounds that such a thing could exist in a place like this. The light, while relatively small and difficult to make out, seemed to be collected in a deliberate form.

  “That's what we call the Prison of Luyce,” said Gilbel, following Quinn's eyes toward the northwest. “Locked in there are the four other Lords.”

  Quinn nodded thoughtfully as they continued moving. The light continued to captivate his attention, not just because of how bright it was compared to everything else, but because of how misplaced it seemed. Down here, in the depths of darkness and woe, was something that shone brighter than anything that Quinn had ever seen. It stayed in the back of his mind while his eyes—and thoughts—diverted to something else.

  They had reached the end of the ramp, and were now entering the spire itself. Once again they were presented with an oval-shaped opening large enough to fit through something several times larger than Quinn. As they stepped inside, he noticed three other openings along the walls which connected to ramps leading down to the other structures below.

  Sets of large pillars ran down the room that held in place another level above along with lines of intricate candle holders standing taller than Quinn. At the center of the room was a wide staircase that rose toward the far
wall and ended at an upper level that branched to the right and left. The upper level ran the length of the wall back toward where Quinn stood and connected with the ceiling above.

  “This is the inner sanctum,” Gilbel said, his voice echoing across the cavernous room. He then pointed to the ceiling. “Above is where the throne lies.” The demon headed toward the staircase, and once again Quinn followed at his heel.

  There were no guards here, just like there weren't any anywhere else aside from the gate of the city. Even up here at Lord's Throne, nobody barred their path. Nobody questioned their intentions. It was odd. Everything here was odd. The city was just a stockpile of weapons, and every demon inside worked toward one goal.

  Only those demons at Vaikar's Heartrend acted like how Quinn always thought that they would. Even Zavalin, Xai'jet, and Garjuun, bound by his spells to serve his bidding, seemed like they would run rampant across Ashkar and tear it apart if they could. Was he wrong?

  “What is the purpose of Bastion Return?” Quinn asked as the two stepped up the stairs, but Gilbel did not answer. Instead, the demon continued on their upward path with ardent fervor, as if with every step he was closer and closer to the eclipse of his dreams.

  Quinn narrowed his eyes as he followed behind the demon, but decided to let the sentiment go. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he turned his head to look at what lay on the second level of the inner sanctum. Like the level below, pillars and candle holders lined a path toward the back, lighting gentle embers that illuminated the otherwise dimly lit room. At the opposite end of the room was an oversized throne, expertly crafted and adorned with, unsurprisingly, a demonic influence of spikes and grim design.

  It was empty, though a figure stood next to it that was about the size of Quinn and would not have fit properly on such a large throne.

  “He's not here…” muttered Gilbel in disapproval as he moved toward the figure next to the throne.

  Quinn wasn't so preoccupied with the lack of the Lord of Hell's presence, instead gazing around at all that he could lay eyes upon. Beyond the throne, at the far wall, was a grand mural of five figures. Each reminded him of the five different types of demons, and he guessed that they were the Lords of Hell. They were rendered in a fashion that did not depict a realistic image, but rather an artistic and exaggerated piece. The light from candles flickered upon their expressions, casting an eerie feeling over the room. It was like all five of the figures would jump out of the wall at any moment.