5Hell Bound Saints
Children of a Southern Storm.
Prologue
"Are you Calidor Blight?"
Calidor stiffened at the question, especially since he had recently made a narrow escape from Balxthin and his hired assassins. A blood hunt had been called upon his head and it seemed that every demon in the eighteen hells, greater and lesser, would try to claim the prize. Moreover, Calidor could tell that something was suspicious about this demon.
"Who seeks him?"
The frog-like demon stepped forward and boldly dropped the spell that hid his true form. "Aye," he said, letting the spell die away. "You are indeed the one I seek."
"And you are?"
Calidor watched as the man's elegant hands came out of the folds of his white robes to unclasp a catch, letting the garb fall to the floor with a heavy thud. Calidor blinked in astonishment, his jaw went slack as he saw a human, and not just any human.
A living breathing human in the ninth level of hell, and this human was standing stark naked. With nothing more than a few red and gold tattoos that marked select portions of his pale, beautiful skin.
Long auburn red hair cascaded down his back and lip-length bangs obscured his face. The human pushed the stubborn strands back with a slender finger to reveal a set of emerald green eyes. The human was stunning, and Calidor's demonic body reacted wildly to the brash nudity.
"Who am I?" asked the human in a wickedly erotic voice. "It has not been so long that you have forgotten me already."
"Melthoran!" Calidor's hands worked their way over one of his consort's more private tribal tattoos.
"We haven't time for that, master; I'm here to free you."
Chapter One: With Good Intentions
Earth 597.
"The Age of Faith"
The 5th Day of the Month of the Bull.
"Welcome, Melthoran, please do come in."
Mal nodded his thanks and stepped into the stuffy hut. The smell of the swamp seemed to vanish beneath that of burning incense. The trudge to the secluded shed was nothing compared to the one he would soon have to make, but first things first, he needed the tools to make this journey; tools that only Idrean could give him.
"So what brings you, Melthoran?" Idrean asked smoothly as she sprawled along a length of pillows. She indicated another set of pillows across from her and waited for Mal to sit.
Mal glanced at the offered seating and moved toward the spot. He looked Idrean up and down gathering what he could of her. He knew not to trust her; Calidor had made sure he learned the lesson of trusting demons the hard way. "I need to break into hell."
Idrean could see by the expression on his face that he had already given this much thought. "Why would you want to go to hell?"
Mal really didn't want to tell her, but he needed her help and wouldn't risk not getting it. So he regaled her with the story of how he got his master sent to hell and how he was going to get him out.
Idrean listened intently for the next hour, she could see that Mal was hell-bent on doing this, never-mind the fact that Calidor was a demon, a master demon at that, and he had very little to fear in hell. "Melthoran, are you sure you want to do this?" She didn't know why she bothered to ask, it was not as if he would change his mind, and it was not as if she had wanted him to; but still whatever happened, she could at least say that she tried to talk him out of it.
"Yes… and I don't have much time, Idrean, I have aged a year every week from the moment that has passed."
Now that she thought about it, he did look older. "Fine then, you must carefully do as I say."
Mal made a mental note of all she had told him, but now came the hard part of the deal. She had told him how to get into hell with his soul intact but she hadn't given him the tools to do so.
"I know what you're thinking, Mal, and you are correct. I want you to do something for me while in hell and then I will give you the tools you seek."
A grim expression plastered Mal's face. "What?" Mal asked dispassionately.
Idrean smiled, she knew she had him. He was desperate, and a fool in love; in love with a demon of all things. We are a loveless lot, she thought to herself, but she would not say as much to him. She needed him, two souls was all she needed to become a master demon. Two freed souls from hell under her command and then she'd attain the mantel of master demon and all the power that came with it.
"When you go to hell, you must bind two unclaimed souls into this gem and then shatter It." she handed Mal the orb with care. "Mal, it is important that the souls be free, they cannot be claimed by another demon; do you understand?"
Her stern expression spoke volumes. "Yes!" Mal didn't like this but if it was what he needed to do to get his lover back then so be it. "Is that all?"
"No, this must be done before you leave hell; should you leave hell without doing this for me, you will continue to age a year for every day that passes that you are not in hell, until you die."
Mal scooped up the bag of trinkets she offered him and headed for the door. The perfumed smoke in Idrean's hut was starting to make his skin crawl.
Mal heard Idrean call to him just as he pulled back the latch on the door. "Study the spell book, Mal; it may save your life."
Mal simply nodded and stepped out of the door. If any of what Idrean had said was true, he would have to prepare for a harsh journey and time was against him. He took a quick look at his reflection in his shield. In only a few seconds when the moon hung high in the night sky, he would age again. He had watched the first time but now he couldn't, he threw his hood over his head and marched on. He could feel the shift of flesh and hear the snap of bone as his muscles moved. He even stumbled as he grew in height and he could feel the bulking of his muscles. He hoped Calidor wouldn't mind so much.
The thirteenth level of hell
The last thing Calidor remembered was the look on Mal's face before being wisped in to the hell fire void. The child he had taken under his wing, raised, and protected. He had given the boy eternal youth, and all he had asked for in return was complete and utter loyalty, and he had been betrayed.
Mal had claimed to love him and foolishly Calidor believed him. Humph! The love of a human, he muttered to himself. Just then a breeze touched his naked skin, and awoke the painful sensation reminding him how cold he was. That alone was a testimony to how alive he was, if he were truly dead, this wouldn't hurt so much and if he didn't find shelter, he would be truly dead soon enough.
He hated being back in hell and of all the eighteen hells, why did he have to land in the thirteenth level of the abyss, naked. Calidor looked around, he was weak, he needed to feed, he needed clothing, and most of all he needed to get out of the thirteenth level of hell.
Earth 597.
"The Age of Faith"
The 9th Day in the Month of the Bull.
Mal had crossed many foreign lands and several thousand miles of fierce blowing winds to reach the lands of Caelsent and come to the Dancing Teeth Inn. The inn was big and rowdy with lots of commotion going on. Living with a demon lord had taught Mal to be attentive. He spotted the swindler at the far end of the bar and the group of thugs by the door, not to mention the bar-wench with the sticky fingers.
This will be a quick stop, Mal thought, as he peeked into the bag that he got from Idrean. Pulling back the flap he whispered. "Am I going the right way?" He knew he must have looked like a nut talking into a bag and even more so as he listened with intensity for the reply.
"I don't know; where are we now, young master?" replied the voice from the bag in an equally quiet tone.
"Caelsent." responded Mal, "but where do I go from here?"
"North, but I advise you to get a good night's rest here in the inn, young master."
"No! I don't have time." Mal looked up into the mirror, he had worked a powerful incantation that allowed him to move as quickly as he had and still time was sparse. Tonight he would age again and the sooner he got to hell to find Calidor, the better. His hair was longer, his jaw was more firmly set and he could hear the bass tone to his voice. Calidor would hardly recognize him. Gone was the young looking boy of twelve, now he was a young man of eighteen.
"Mal, listen to me, the journey from here on out will be hard; take this last night and rest your body, strengthen your mind and learn the spells I taught you, young master."
"Those aren't spells they're more like a dance." scoffed Mal at the memories of motions the so-called spell book had taught him. "Besides I've already told you, I don't have time."
"Young…"
"No, we're leaving… Now!" Mal scooped up the bag he had paid for along with his four water skins and went on his way.
The thirteenth level of hell
Two weeks later.
Calidor cursed his luck. He was weaker now than when he'd gotten here; he was running on the last reserves of his Demonica. Two weeks of hiking in this frozen wasteland and nothing, if he didn't find shelter and food soon, he was really going to die, the kind of die that said don't pass hell, do not suffer for eternity, go straight to oblivion. The kind of dead you don't return from.
A weaker demon would welcome oblivion, but not Calidor; he was going to escape… again. He just needed to gather his strength and he couldn't do that if he didn't feed. The problem was that there was no one to feed on.
"Are you lost, little Demon?" asked a sinister voice.
Calidor must have been weaker than he thought; he didn't even sense the fledgling sneaking up on him.
"May I drink your blood?" sneered the man.
Great! Of all the entities to come along, it had to be a blood sucker, not even a real demon. "No!" Calidor barked with a leer of his own. "You're a disgrace to all Demons, beasts in human form… who drink the blood from the living; but you'll do for now."
Calidor gave the vampire little time to do anything but squeal. He drew out what little Demonica he could and tossed the whelp aside. What power he received was little but if he used it with care he could get two, maybe or three days out of it; but still he was weak and should a full blood demon come along now he'd be done for.
Calidor turned to look at the tall blond haired, fang-faced vampire. "Listen, Vampire, I'll make you a deal. I'll give you some of my blood, making you stronger, faster and more durable if you become my hell bound soul." Calidor could see the man deliberating over the matter and then he heard a faint sound.
"What was that?" smiled Calidor, pleased with himself. He had heard the words but he wanted to make the Vampire say them again. It pleased him to know that even in hell, while weak and being preyed upon, he was still the superior.
The young Vampire gritted his teeth and forced himself to repeat his words. "I said yes!" he whispered.
"You'll have to speak up, boy."
"YES!"
Calidor laughed, the boy had spunk. "Good, then come feed.'
Walking over, the vampire took Calidor's wrist. He took two deep gulps of demonically charged blood. Calidor could see the demon marks that would state his claim starting to mar the man's skin. The power he was using would alter the man forever, binding his soul to him in ways that were irreversible.
Still he was taking a risk, using his Demonica when he had so little to begin with. Other demons would feel his power, note his weakened state, and come to drain him of what power he had left. He should not be doing what he was, but it was necessary. He was running low on Demonica; now more than ever and he couldn't feed from his new charge again for another two or three days.
The Vampire looked at his new master, and felt the strange element of death about him. "What's wrong?"
"I am weakened." Cal knew that he needed to keep Demonica in him or he would die. He had just given precious amounts of it up, but without help his death would come sooner rather than later. In fact, Calidor had poured much of his remaining Demonica into the binding. He needed this one to be strong, strong enough to fight off pureblooded demons that would be lured and strong enough to keep him alive. The freezing frost of this blasted hell whipped at Calidor like never before, there was no turning back now, and that vampire was his best hope.
"What's your name, Vampire?"
Lapping away the last traces of blood and catching the Demon bodily before him lest he fall to the ground, he replied. "Neico."
Neico was surprised at how strong he had become, the man felt like nothing to him and he was fast, far faster than a vampire of his age should be.
"Well then, Neico, help me to my feet."
Neico stood, putting his newfound strength to the test, and hoisted Calidor to his feet with ease. He smiled, never before had he been so powerful.
Calidor smirked. His new hell bound was all that he wanted and more, at least physically. "You like. As well you should. There is much more I can give you, my Neico, but first, you must get me out of here."
Neico tilted his head; he could have sworn he heard something. He pulled his Demon to him supporting all of Calidor's ample weight. Taking his cloak, he wrapped it around Calidor to stave off some of the cold. The strange blood that droned through him was more than enough to warm him.
Calidor grunted in pain. "You must learn quickly to control your newfound abilities, my Neico."
"I heard something and now I can smell it, it's near and it smells of burnt cherry wood." Neico took another sniff of the air.
"Demons, they're coming." Calidor said matter of factly.
"No, we're here."
Earth 597.
"The Age of Faith"
The 12th Day of the Month of the Bull.
Far to the south in the lands known as Iscalio, in the vast deserts that dominated the land- known as the Scarlet Sands - was a secret place about a three-day's journey by camel from the Dancing Teeth Inn. A daunting set of mountainous peaks, called the Midnight Steppes could be seen in the distance. This area, most agreed, held some of the harshest terrain found anywhere. However, as harsh as the land was, life did exist in this intense region, although not always apparent to the outside observer.
Almost as proof of this, a lone Mal, clad in thick white robes and cloak was currently making his way across the region, riding a shaggy-haired camel. Today marked the third day that Melthoran had marched across the harshness of the Scarlet Sands, the entire time having been battered by blasting sandstorms. Astride the camel, Mal obviously rode with a tremendous purpose, seen by the pace that he kept.
"Young master, try again."
Mal looked at the talking book in his possession with discontent. Learning magic was far harder than he had thought it would be and he had so much to learn in so little time. He now recalled why he quit the first time. "I'm tired of waving about in choreographed motions, saying words that I half remember, damn it."
"Young master, if you…"
Mal sighed, "I know, I know. If I mess up I could die." Mal recited the words and the move again half-heartedly.
"I can see that you are quite unwilling to perform, young master, so how about I quiz you on your knowledge of hell?"
"That's a degree more preferable than the song and dance of spell casting."
"Fine, but you have been coming along rather well, young master; if you would just focus I'm sure you would get it."
Mal grumbled that he never wanted to learn magic in the first place. In fact, if he didn't need it to rescue Cal, he would forgo his lessons all together.
The book could see that Mal was in his head again for the fifth time today. "Young master! Pay attention!"
Mal's head snapped to the direction of the voice, and a grim expression covered his face. "Do not ever yell at me, Archimedes, or I'll burn your pages."
Archimedes scoffed at the reprimand and then a sudden quake of fear hit him when he recognized the look in Mal's eyes. "You wouldn't…"
Mal simply raised an eyebrow waiting for the book to finish speaking. It was then that Archimedes noted that he hadn't said the two words that he normally did. A fact he was quick to repair seeing as how Mal's expression kept growing colder with each passing second. "Young master…"
Mal smiled and turned his head to continue leading the camel before instilling what he hoped was the fear of god into the damn book. "I was raised by a Demon, Archi, I'd do a lot of things most people wouldn't."
Mal could have sworn he heard the book gulp which helped to eliminate some of his temper. In truth he knew Archimedes was right, though he would never tell him that. "So quiz me already." That was as much of a, 'you're right' as Archimedes was going to get.
Archimedes looked up at his young master and began to do as he was told. "Do you remember what a Demon's life force is, young master?"
"It's his Demonica, Archimedes."
"And, young master, Demonica is what to a demon?"
"Their source of their power."
"Very good, young master, now for some tougher questions."
In the thirteen level of hell.
Calidor could hear Neico gasp in surprise and felt a sharp pain when Neico squeezed him just a little too tightly. Calidor fought back the urge to yell out in pain, more so out of shock at how fast the other denizens of hell got to him so quickly. The land was barren, nothing but snow blanketed the landscape for as far as the eye could see. Where did they come from? He wondered.
The small army that stood before them all had on the red robes of the winter guard. They didn't look to be very powerful but they did have numbers and the Marilith seemed to be a competent leader.
The large attractive female, with six arms that spanned from her head to her waist, moved to the front of the crowd. From the waist down she had the massive body of a snake with coiling green scales. She held in front of her a scroll and read from it. "Calidor Blight, you are hereby charged with the crime of being a renegade." She looked at the demons she had with her. "Take him."
The horde of demons moved in, weapons ready. However, they were not prepared for Neico. One of the demons took a swing at Neico, hoping to separate Calidor from his grasp. His fist connected with Neico's face causing blood to spill from his now split lip.
The demon must have thought that would be enough to deal with the tainted human but Neico grinned at the surprised look on the demon's face when he realized that he didn't fall to the floor lifelessly but instead leaped back a safe distance to put himself between the horde and his demon.
At that moment Cal realized that they could survive this. If Neico could give, just as well as he got, then there was hope but Calidor knew that he didn't stand a chance against so many pureblooded Demons. Not without a plan.
"Neico." Calidor whispered "If you could weaken some of them, I could draw out their Demonica and help you but you must weaken them first. Start with the Babaus. It's the one that reeks of decay and is covered in black leathery skin. Do not touch his skin…"
Calidor's warning was too late; Neico had sped forward with lightning speed to plunge his fist into the Demon's chest and returned with a body before anyone was the wiser. The Babaus didn't even have a chance to utter a sound before he was dropped to the floor next to Cal's feet.
Neico clenched his fist feeling a stinging sensation crawl up it, as acid started to eat away at his arm. Focusing the blood in his body, he healed the wound and went for the next Babaus; only this time he used an ax he had taken from the Babaus he'd just killed.
Calidor marveled at his creation, he never knew why other demons kept vampires as pets until now, for all their faults they were surprisingly very practical. Calidor drained what Demonica he could from the heap at his feet. It was a crime to take all a demon's Demonica but he was already a wanted man for becoming a renegade and that was the highest crime a demon could commit, so what was one or two misdemeanors. Calidor siphoned every drop of power he could and watched the Demon turn to ash.
The other Demons around worked themselves into a frenzy when they saw what he had done, an added bonus, thought Calidor, now they would not be so coordinated. Cal could feel some of his powers returning, not much but some, and just as the last of the demon's ash was swept away by the wind another body fell at his feet.
This time he looked up and was surprised at Neico's ability. He hadn't known the boy could fight so well. Neico we must go he said telepathically after draining the second Babaus Demon. Cal could see the order was returning and that they were mobilizing for a tactical strike.
Neico had just finished downing another of the weaker demons when he felt the unyielding command telling him to stop. The command was so forceful that he just managed to block a powerful swing from a bloated apelike demon, with razor-like claws. Trying hard and failing to fight off the command, he turned and dashed for his Demon.
Calidor had gained enough Demonica to survive for at least a month, which was more than enough time to escape the thirteenth level.
Neico grabbed Calidor, one arm hooked around his midsection, and ran full out. Calidor laughed as the cold wind whipped through his hair and the chill stung his face. Neico could hear the woman barking orders, even as the stretch of space between them lengthened. When he thought they were safe, he dropped Cal in the snow.
"What did you do to me?" demanded Neico angrily.
The rage in Cal boiled at being mishandled but he quickly reigned it in. "I made you more powerful." He smiled playing his game. It was rather pleasant to watch his new pet all roughened up and knowing that for all the power he now had, he couldn't do anything to harm Cal.
Neico clenched his fist. "Not that! You know what I mean." He ordered.
Cal loved this, though he knew that he should put an end to this soon. He could hear the familiarity of nobility in Neico's voice, which would explain a thing or two. "Whatever do you mean?" Calidor bit back the chuckle that threatened to force its way out of his mouth.
Neico grabbed Cal by the shirt and attempted to strike him. Cal only smirked as the vampire's hand stopped dead in front of him. "Now, my Neico, you know the truth. I own you. You are mine and know that, you have free will because I so choose to give it, honor me and you will have little discontent, dishonor me and hell will be the least of your worries. Now come, my Neico, I long for us to remain pleasant. How about as a show of my good faith; I will give you the chance first to do as I ask, instead of imposing my will on you. What do you say?"
Silence stretched between them for a long while. Cal's words broke the calm. "With that aura of command, what were you an Earl, Marquises, surely not as high as a Duke?"
"I am the Prince of Skara."
"Said with such conviction, you were the prince of Skara or have you forgotten you're dead?"
"Don't mock me, Demon." He barked in frustration.
"Take my offer, my prince, it's the last time I'll ever make it."
"Fine."
"Good, now we must go, we've spent too much time here. My Prince."
Neico could hear the mocking element to his voice, but there was something else, a possessive aspect to the word "My", a definitive claim of possession and pride.