Page 5 of Hell-Bound

A trickster, wicked smile—an intrusive thought.

This line of thinking confused Renata. She couldn’t place why she had this—they were just there. She wondered if she should abandon these beliefs until it proved otherwise necessary to have them. It seemed somehow unfair of her to react so harshly to people she hadn’t had a chance to talk to.

The only table with a lone inhabitant had been pushed into the corner of the tavern. It was occupied by a middle-aged Human scanning the common room. He was handsome, with long white hair that he’d secured in a low tail. When his eyes landed on Renata’s, he smiled and waved her over.

As Renata hesitantly moved towards him, she smelled the musty scent of spilled drinks mixed with the delicious aroma of boiled potatoes.

Her favorite?

She even enjoyed the sticky feeling under her boots.

“Good afternoon. Renata?” he said, tilting his head toward her and gesturing to the available chair across from him.

“Leonardo?”

He smiled slightly.

“Yes, I’ve been looking forward to our meeting.”

He sat stock-straight in his chair, looking her up and down as if searching for something.

“You’ve made a long journey. Please, let me buy you a drink. I’ve heard you’re quite fond of ale.”

Renata furrowed her brow and sat.

“I’m starting to get nervous that everything keeps saying that about me.”

Another smile.

“Oh, don’t worry. All of us have our vices, and from what I hear, it only makes the stories about you all the more celebrated. You’re something of a folk hero outside of that small town of yours. The Defender of The Planes, they call you,” he said, leaning back thoughtfully.

“Uh, yeah. I am sure it does,” she said, punctuating the statement with an awkward smile.

The man cleared his throat as if equally embarrassed, perhaps thinking Renata would’ve been flattered.

“That ale, then.”

As a round-faced waitress set two frothy ales in front of them and Renata found herself wishing she were there for pleasure. The violin was calling to her, and the tankard was alluring, dripping with sweat. She craved losing herself to the atmosphere.

“I guess you’re wondering how I know about your predicament?”

Leonardo’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“Well, let me get right to it—I am a member of an organization called The Gilded Triangle. We are worshipers of Nainaur. More importantly, we workagainstinfernal beingsthat occupy the deepest layers of the planes of hell.”

Bells went off inside Renata’s head.

Yes, this was information she had heard of, the simplest version. Nainaur good. Hells bad. She knew that there were a lot of people in her village who worshiped Nainaur. There were several temples to him. Her parents even had a small mantle with incense to ward off spirits from The Hells.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not religious. I don’t think praying would—”

“I apologize for the misunderstanding,” he said, holding up a hand. “I’m not here to convert you—not yet, anyway,” he murmured. “The Gilded Triangle believes you’ve had some involvement in The Hells.”

Renata wet her lips. “You’ll have to explain. How do you know this?”

Leonardo blinked patiently at her.

“Oh yes, thememories.” He cleared his throat. “Where to start? Mortals—those from our plane—often fall into temptation and sign contracts with infernal beings, mostly Devils, in exchange for their souls. We, The Gilded Triangle, try to help these people by finding areas of ambiguity in their contracts, taking advantage of these, and setting their souls free. Souls that Nainaur can then redeem.”