Page 9 of Lake of Sin

When I stood shakily on Marchosias’ thigh, thunderous applause erupted before us. I squinted against the light and saw all of Marchosias’ tournament had given up their battle to witness my destruction. The two giants were roaring and clapping wildly. The imps leapt in the air, and the lesser demons cheered for my display. I shivered and glanced away with shyness, but Marchosias cooed and gently nudged my head back toward them.

It said, “You have proven to them that they were right, too. Faith can always be shaken, most especially after so much time.” Marchosias’ hot breath curled over my neck. “Heaven is not worth it. We will celebratehere!”

It roared, and the cheer was answered. The whole arena lit up with joyous celebration. Marchosias grabbed me and stood, hefting my still recovering body in the air. It put me up on its shoulder.

“What is next for the human?”it asked me.

“I need to find a Prince of Hell,” I said, and it nodded.

It brought forefinger and thumb to its lips and whistled shrilly. A cry sounded from the air, and two bobbing shapes moved ever closer. Not imps, though.

But cherubim!

The strange creatures that had previously flown away were back, their many heads swivelling in interest, four sets of eyes boring through me. They flew close, and I knew what to do, stretching out my arms for them to grasp. They latched, and I was pulled off Marchosias’ back. All the weight of my bodystrained against the sockets of my shoulders, but I did not mind the pain.

I craned back to look at Marchosias as we departed. It stood and unfurled its beautiful wings, and I heard trumpets start up again, all their discordance stripped away, so they sounded nearly heavenly.

4

Isomehow slept whilst the cherubim transported me, and by the time I had awoken, they were long gone.

I opened my eyes to find I was horizontal once more, asleep atop a bed of grass and tiny black flowers whose petals were long and wet.

I peeled myself from the ground, groggy with exhaustion. A circular castle tore through the sky, the red haze of the horizon forming a halo glow around the sharp black edges of the jagged structure. It was unlike the castle occupied by Malphas, which had appeared oily and deeply inhuman. This seemed familiar and human. It looked to be carved from a black sandstone, and it had a great many banners flying from its turrets. A castle wall surrounded the central keep, and it rose out of a hillside that abruptly ended in a cliff, a natural defence, as one would expect across much of Europe.

A crowd had gathered. Demons and hags and all manner of creatures danced around maypoles at its base. I walked closer until I became part of this crowd, and no one paid me any mind. They were cheering. They cried out, “For the great Prince Vassago! We bless him! We bless him!”

The cheers were oddly genuine, and they seemed out of place in Hell until I considered the hierarchy of Earth seemed apparent in both Hell and Heaven.

The hags I recognised as the same type who had fed me the flower—the food of Hell—and I approached them with ease. Perhaps I should have felt fear, should have quaked to approach such a creature, with its long nails and stringy hair. But she turned as if to greet an old friend and cried out in excitement, reaching out as I approached. When I was close enough, she grazed those nails over my flesh and said, “You are the one my sisters spoke of! You are the one here for King Asmodeus! You are the one!”

She took me by the wrist, fingers long enough to wrap easily around the join, and she pulled me through the crowd. I guessed there were about a hundred demons in attendance of various lesser ranks, though I could only guess at their functions in Hell and in the kingdom of this Prince. Ribbons streamed from the maypoles in bright colours, and those same black flowers dotted the grey-green grass. The joy was infectious. My heart began to race as we picked our way through the dancing crowd. I must have smelled enough like Hell not to offend anyone’s noses, for no one looked to me except to smile and grin and sayVassago,a name spoken like a prayer, like a greeting or an oath. Everything smelled like spices and amber, and I did not mind that my body touched that of many demons. There was nothing sexual about those instances: it was the first time my naked body had been touched platonically. The first time my nakedness sparked not even a hint of shame in my mind.

When we burst from the crowd, the hag let go of my arm and gripped her skirts with both hands. She hefted them high to expose two mottled shins, and she climbed up a rocky incline balanced against the black stone of the keep’s wall. There, she turned and exclaimed loudly, “Have faith, all ye! A human hasdescended into Hell by choice, here to please our Lords, here in proof of humanity’s true nature! Celebrate him and rejoice!”

The demons in the crowd cheered for me and only doubled when she added, “He was once a priest! Now, he has forsaken God entirely to dedicate himself to this place! My sisters have said so!”

The joy became too much. Many large demons dropped their maypole ribbons and ran for me. With grace, they plucked me from the ground and hefted me high above their heads. Great clawed hands took care not to pierce my skin, and a hundred voices came together to beseech the Prince for his attention.

“A guest for Prince Vassago! A guest for Prince Vassago!”

The chant floated up the way I had once imagined prayers would, only this time, the pleading was answered. A crack sounded from high above, and we all craned up to see a window had been opened from the keep. The distance meant we could see nothing but shadow, and even then, the window was roughly pulled shut. Moments later, another window opened from the turret—a strange sight, for it appeared like a cube of stone simply vanished, replaced by impenetrable blackness. From this darkness emerged a ladder made of rope and wooden panels. A primitive thing, well-worn and fraying. It dropped quickly, the panels clattering against the stone, and I realised belatedly there were no visible doors to this Prince Vassago’s keep. There was no point of entry save for this rope, and even then, it did not descend all the way.

The demons around me cheered. I could feel their swell, and I craned to look as a sea of reaching, leathery hands popped up from the crowd. They were pushing me upwards, helping me reach the end of the ladder. I gained control of my senses and scrambled to grasp the rope.

I will say this of that moment: I thought of brotherhood. I know it is strange, and I know it seems like very littlehappened, but for a man whose entire life was spent in service to an institution built upon such kindness, whose institution had failed him, whose brothers had been closer to watchful spies than family—to have a taste of a community, however strange or beastly, filled my poor empty heart.

I took hold of the ladder and lurched as my body weight shifted, but I climbed with purpose, even as my limbs shook and the flimsy ladder wobbled beneath my weight. I gazed up and saw impish faces peering out at me from the dark. Abruptly, their heads swivelled back into the hole and then back out again to me, and it was as if they had received an order, for they began to heave the ladder up with me braced and clutching.

Moments later, I reached for the dark, and their tiny hands wrapped around my arms and pulled me into the turret. Pitch black greeted me. The hole I had climbed through opened into a dark tunnel. The smell of mildew clogged my nose, but I scarcely minded it. I leaned out of the hole and waved down to the gathered crowd of demons, who leapt up in joy at the sight of me; I thought blasphemous things about the Saviour and thought to compare myself to him. I felt greed and a new lust fill my heart. Could I be a messiah to this realm? Or would I always be an elevated pet?

Many demons, like Marchosias, only enjoyed my presence for the proof of human depravity I brought with me.

“Come,” a rough voice prompted. The imps were staring at me, their golden beady eyes the only things I could see in the dark. The wet slapping of feet guided me. I followed along helplessly, feeling dog-like in how I trailed. Occasionally, light split through a seam in the stone, and I could see the tunnel was as I expected—stone and empty, meant for these creatures to walk through. As such, the ceiling began to lower, and soon, I was forced to squat and crawl if I were to continue following them. Seeing me on my knees gave the creatures joy. A chitteringlaughter started up as soon as I went down, and one of the imps began to pet my head as if I truly were a dog.

“Good boy,” it told me. A flash of light revealed its yellowed teeth, filed to sharp points, a smile splitting its face wide. The impish head sat atop a stout body with leathery brown wings and a forked tail, only unlike the other imps I had seen in this realm, this one wore—finery.

I blinked. Darkness enveloped us again, and I crawled awkwardly forward, wincing as the cold stone roughened my knees. At the next seam, the light showed me I had been right. All the imps were dressed, wearing simple short surcoats in cream and embellished with black. The sight was absurd! More than anything, seeing their clothed bodies made me anxious. Hell had been separated from Earthly ways.

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