Page 44 of Unbinding the Demon
Little droplets of dew dripped from the twisted boughs looming overhead, like the grievous tears of the trees' unsung bereavements. Sorrow itself seemed to whisper upon the abyssal winds, through the clanking trees, and across the cold ground. Pale, brittle blooms adorned the rocky soil like shallow blankets of dolor, cheerlessly shivering in the breeze. Each purple petal was enwreathed in death and frail, as if even the gentlest of caresses could reduce them to nothing more than dust.
My pale hand stroked the side of Sagacor’s soft neck, avoiding the more undead areas. Each short strand of ebony hair bent beneath my gentle touch as I lounged, peaceful yet weary, upon his broad, swaying back. Azathoth and Valarendrik strolled and engaged in conversation side by side at the front. Valarendrik was looking over the abyssal book and copying down some notes for himself.
The four of us traversed beneath the final wooded arches of gnarled branch and bough, trudging beyond the gloomy gates of the forest line. A steep cliff carved its way through the ground up ahead, where the hiss of crashing waves was faintly carried upon the breeze. The gruff, manly blabbering quieted down, and I heard heavy footsteps approaching, crunching over the loose stones and lifeless flowers. A large clawed hand brushed away the thin curtain of wisping hair that danced across my face.
“It’s time to get up, Buttercup. The decrescent pantheon is in sight.” My drowsy green eyes lifted to see his ethereally handsome face bathed in shadows, his dimly shining eyes and soft smile beaming at me with love and adoration.
“Can’t I rest for a little longer?” I yawned. All that sword training had tuckered me out, and all I wanted to do was sleep.
His warm hand trailed over my shoulder affectionately, then down along my arm, until he held my hand in his. “I’m afraid not. We’ve already dawdled about long enough. It’s time to complete what we came here for and return to Earth. The sooner, the better .” I didn’t know what he meant by that last part, but I agreed because I had not forgotten about my leftover tortellini waiting for me in the fridge.
Love twinkled in my gaze as I smiled back at him. “Alright.” I sighed, then I pressed a hand beneath my body to push myself up into a seated position and slip off the saddle.
Before I could right myself, Azathoth’s hand delicately latched beneath my chin, and his mouth pressed against mine. The nocturnal winds possessed his long swaying hair, using his silky obsidian locks to tickle and dance across my cheeks and arm. His velvety lips rapturously worshiped mine in graceful tides of waving passion. Then his kisses fluttered up along my nose, enticing small giggles to chime out of me until he reached my forehead, where he placed one last yearnful smooch.
His benevolent face pulled away from mine as his arms wrapped themselves around my body. “Come, my love,” he almost whispered, then eased me from Sagacor’s back.
He kept me from stumbling and falling flat onto my face as I gained my footing. The sword holster belt that was now wrapped twice around my waist clanked and almost slipped off. I looked down and readjusted it, ignoring him mumbling, “You don’t need that thing,” under his breath. I didn’t care if I needed it or not because I felt like a total badass wearing it.
As I glanced back up, I took a quick moment to take in my surroundings. We were on a high cliff which dropped off into a vast ocean of caliginous waters. Each passing wave seemed to rhythmically sigh out in anguish, an oppressive melody that threatened to lull one to madness. Opaque darkness marred where the sea kissed the saturnine skies, stretching beyond where the eye could see. Deep gulches carved by the marriage of time and rushing rivers cut their way through the rocky cliffs and poured violent torrents from their gaping mouths and into the sea.
A narrow stone viaduct, held up by colonnades of harrowing spikes, arched its way across the treacherous waters and over to a small island. The blackened stone was weather-beaten and disintegrative, threatening to crumble at any moment. Upon the island rested the precarious ruins of a Mephistophelian building, no doubt built by the demonic gods Azathoth had spoken about. Tall black spikes menacingly jutted up from its gothic towers and centric minaret. The darksome atmosphere concealed most of the finer details in shadow, but I could still make out the lofty pointed archway leading inside.
My mouth fell agape as I gazed upon the formidable pantheon. It was unlike anything I’d seen back on Earth. Valarendrik smiled in amusement at my overblown, dazzled facial expression. Then he took Sagacor’s reins and tied them to a gaunt tree. Sagacor nickered as he placed two clawed fingers on the reins and began to murmur something. More of that black mist eerily swirled out from his fingertips and flowed into the reins. My neck craned to get a better look, fascinated by his strange, shadowy powers.
“What kind of unearthly ensorcellment is he performing now?”
Azathoth chuckled at my bewildered naivety. “He’s using his shadows to cast a simple spell that will release the reins if Sagacor is ever in danger. He’s not coming into the pantheon with us since he’d make an easy snack for the vovin.” He squeezed my shoulders lightly, pulling my backside against his firm frame. “Speaking of which, you should probably say goodbye to him now. Once we go in, we won’t be coming back out.”
“Oh,” I breathed, as the realization of possibly never seeing him again dawned on me. A twinge of sadness pulled at my heart as I wandered over to the ghoulish six-eyed stallion. I hadn’t known him for very long, yet I had still grown rather fond of the partly decomposed fellow. Luckily, though, I had smuggled a parting gift along with me.
I grabbed our satchel bag from his saddle and threw it over my shoulder, then walked up to the side of his cadaverous face. Three milky eyes curiously peered down at my hand as I reached into the bag and pulled out a small red caedis fruit. He began to nicker and snort with excitement.
Valarendrik glanced down at the fruit, then smiled warmly at me. “Thank you,” his deep voice rumbled with a strange, thick accent. With Azathoth’s help, he had learned a few basic English words and had been trying to use them every chance he got. It was adorable, really.
“You’re welcome,” I responded with a small laugh as I gazed over at him.
Excitement beamed in his undead ruby eyes, and his smile turned into a wide, joyful grin, unintentionally flashing his unnervingly sharp teeth and fangs. The spiky bones of his crown happily twitched as he said something else in the abyssal language. He held one clawed hand out flat and pointed to it with the other.
“He’s asking you to keep your hand flat when you feed Sagacor, so he doesn’t bite your fingers off... Well , he didn’t actually say that last part, but you get the gist,” Azathoth hollered while standing at the edge of the cliff.
The caedis fruit rested snugly in my palm while I somewhat nervously held my very flattened hand up to his muzzle. His nostrils flared, and his short whiskers tickled my hand as he eagerly sniffed the fruit. Then he opened his large fanged mouth and gently munched on the crisp, juicy treat. I giggled and wiped my hand on my dress. As I stroked his fuzzy nose for the last time, I tried to swallow the lump of sadness in my throat. But something went wrong, and I messed it up, then began choking uncontrollably on my spit. A cadence of unladylike gags, wheezes, and coughs erupted from me.
Both Azathoth and Valarendrik watched my coughing fit with great intensity. I hunched over pathetically, my face a bright tomato-red and tears in my eyes. Valarendrik looked awkward as hell and wore an exaggerated expression of both confusion and concern. Azathoth, on the other hand, held a somewhat impassive expression, with utter amusement twinkling in his fiery eyes. The wind blew through their hair as Valarendrik seemingly expressed his worry. Azathoth shook his head and held up a knowledgeable hand, then muttered something that appeared to put Valarendrik at ease. Neither of them removed their observant gazes from me until my strangled chokes died down.
Phew!
Talk about embarrassing!
Azathoth raised an amused brow and glanced around. Then he held his hand out for me to take. “Are you ready to continue, my love?” The way the corner of his mouth twitched suggested that he was suppressing his laughter.
I scowled at him as I took his hand. “Yeah, yeah, don’t even say it!”
He grinned devilishly as he interlaced his fingers with mine and then began leading me across the perilous viaduct. Valarendrik eyed me with worry as I walked past, as if he were half-expecting me to abruptly keel over and die. His long, tattered coat fluttered in the wind behind him as he turned and began silently following along.
The abyssal winds whipped furiously through our hair and fought against every step we took, as though nature itself was trying to keep us away from the pantheon. Sea spray billowed violently, tossed up by the roaring waves. Each crashing wave hammered the colonnades beneath us, echoing with ferocity. Salty mist filled the air and created a damp film over our skin. My free hand reached up to hold my temperamental hair out of my face as I turned my head to look back at Sagacor. He was grazing peacefully on those crispy flowers, indifferent to us leaving.
Unbelievable... I just had a choking fit for that horse, and he doesn’t even care we’re gone!
My eyes then shifted over to Valarendrik, who was wistfully gazing out over the vast ocean as he strolled along behind us. He tucked some of his long, blowing hair behind his pointy ear, giving me a glimpse of the loneliness and sorrow hidden within the depths of his red eyes. It was as if the whirling waters stirred something very deep and painful within him.
Not wanting to be rude and stare, I lowered my gaze and turned to face Azathoth. “Do you think we could come back someday? You know, maybe to visit with them or something?”
Long silky locks danced across his face as he turned toward me. “Most definitely. Someone’s got to keep that freak of nature out of trouble.” He pointed over his shoulder at Valarendrik with his thumb. “Especially since every so often, the Tenverian queen sends search brigades out to capture him.”
A few small, loose stones rolled over the edge, plummeting to the water below, as my foot unintentionally kicked them off. “Really? Why wouldn’t she just leave him alone?”
He pulled me closer to his side, since I was a little too close to the edge for his comfort. “Because he was to be wed to a noble Tenverian woman on the day of coronation, but he fled that same day. To say that she was royally pissed off would be an understatement. She wants him to pay for the humiliation he caused.” He held up his palm, level with his bicep. “They usually just torture him in the dungeons whenever they catch him. But sometimes it’s far worse. On occasion, they’ll strap him down to a bed, fully naked, to be seduced by a bunch of horny Tenverian noblewomen.”
My jaw dropped slight disgust, and I tilted my head. “Well, I mean, that last part doesn’t sound all that bad.”
“Oh, but it is. He doesn’t consent to it at all. It’s practically rape.”
My expression turned to one of horror and outrage. “What the fuck? Why would they do something like that?”
“It’s because those two black stripes over his left eye are royal birthmarks, and the Tenverians will only accept someone who has the mark as their king. The queen cannibalized the last king right after Valarendrik’s birth.” Valarendrik tilted his head in curiosity when he heard his name. “Then she sacrificed his brother, so he’s the only one left who can pass on the mark. She needs him to produce an heir so she can finally kill him. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to break into that blasted castle, then slaughter my way through a sea of libidinous undead bimbos while yelling at him to keep his resolve and maintain his virtue.”
Wait... Maintain his virtue? Dafuq?
My eyes widened and shifted around awkwardly. “So, wait a minute. Is he a virgin?” I glanced back at Valarendrik, who noticed the weird way I was looking at him.
Azathoth grinned with mischief. Then, without breaking his gait, he leaned in as if he were about to spill the tea. “Indeed, he is.” His eyebrows bounced twice. “He’s quite possibly the only four thousand and something year-old virgin in existence.” He pointed at Valarendrik, unabashed and blatant.
Valarendrik’s ruby eyes narrowed at Azathoth, then he said something with unmistakable suspicion. Azathoth put his hand up as if he’d been busted as he replied to Valarendrik. A slightly embarrassed look that said, “Ah, come on, man, really?” flashed across Valarendrik’s face. Then he laughed with an effervescent gleam in his eyes and said something that sounded sarcastic.
Please don’t tell me he just told the poor guy that we were talking about his virginity.
“He just called me the abyssal equivalent of an asshole for talking about his virginity.... Then he mentioned that not only does he abstain to not pass on the royal mark but also because Tenverian women are so abhorrent that not even I’m willing to fuck them. Which is completely true, and that’s saying something considering I’m half incubus.” He and Valarendrik were now both laughing as we traversed through the massive, dark stone archway and into the menacing pantheon.
I started laughing too. But then that laughter faded, as I began to grow suspicious of what he meant by that. While we entered the large main room, I pondered all the things I’d learned so far about incubi. Like, why would it be problematic if they couldn’t control their fertility? Or what use could they possibly have for entering dreams?
The impressive architecture quickly diverted my attention from my contemplative thoughts. The stone room was desolate except for a single black plinth in the center. The dark, crumbling walls reminded me somewhat of the interior of old Gothic cathedrals. They stretched up elegantly to a large hole at the top of the central minaret, similar to the Pantheon in Rome. Huge black spiders the size of a bobcat scurried about the many pale cobwebs that were sloppily strung up along the dismal ceiling. Each one softly hissed at our unexpected intrusion.
Azathoth’s footsteps echoed upon the weathered stone floor as he stalked over to the empty plinth. His deep voice carried as he began reading the demonic inscriptions engraved into its sides. I swiftly shuffled along behind him like a frightened duckling.
I furrowed my brows, inspecting the strange pentacle-shaped hole in the middle. The engravings around it were bizarre, yet slightly familiar. “What language is this? It looks somewhat familiar.” I tilted my head as I looked over at him.
“It’s Enochian, the demonic language. Very ancient demons built this to keep the axe out of the wrong hands.” He blew some dust off the side. “That was long before The Abyss was deemed too unsafe for demonkind, though.”
My gaze shifted over to Valarendrik, glimpsing him slashing an aggressive spider into mere ribbons within a matter of seconds. “Why would the demon gods hide the Teloch Axe in The Abyss, anyway?” I asked, pretending that I didn’t just see that horrifying sight. “Did demons used to travel here often?”
“It’s possible, but I don’t actually know the history. My guess is it’s because no sane demon would ever willingly come to this place and find it.” He noticed my intrigue and continued. “There’s no fire here, nothing worth fucking, and dark abyssal essence can corrupt or kill us. I was trapped in this awful world for five thousand years, and no one even thought to search for me here; that’s how unlikely it is for a demon to enter The Abyss.”
“But you came here willingly.” I ran my finger over the intricate stone inscription, wondering why demons would have bothered to build such an elaborate place just to hide a stupid axe.
He peeked up at me with a maniacal grin. “I’m not a sane demon, love.” He began to focus and mumbled along as he read the engravings. “ Once the blood moon falls decrescent, insert the dark crystal into the keyhole to unlock the chasm of death... What the fuck?” A vicious growl rolled in the back of his throat, then he angrily said something to Valarendrik. Valarendrik shrugged and replied, seeming unbothered while standing among a harrowing pile of shredded spiders.
My eyes shifted slowly as I examined my surroundings. “What’s wrong?”
Azathoth sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It says to open the chasm which leads to the vovin, we have to wait until the blood moon is in its decrescent phase; then insert some mysterious dark crystal into the plinth. And Valarendrik just informed me that the next blood moon isn’t for another fifteen years!” He threw his hands up in aggravation.
“So, we need a dark crystal, you say? You wouldn’t happen to know any Skeksis, would you?” I joked, while tapping my chin.
“What the fuck is a Skeksis?” He raised a curious brow, then shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind, I don’t have the time or the patience to hunt down some surreptitious crystal, which probably only Satan himself knows the whereabouts of, then wait around for fifteen fucking years to complete some byzantine rigmarole created by the ancient demonic gods! ... Fuck this!”
I jumped back with a gasp as he abruptly kicked over the plinth like an enraged maniac, causing a loud crash to resonate throughout the room. It broke in two as it smashed to the ground, with dust and little pieces of stone flying out around it.
I clutched my head in a panic. “What the fuck are you doing!?”
His arm waved wildly while he pointed toward the far wall with a firm gesture. “Get back against that wall and stay there!” he demanded with a downright crazed gleam in his eyes. He then rushed to say something to Valarendrik.
Valarendrik nodded while replying and crossed the distance to me in a hurry. He very gently placed his hand on my upper back, then led me against the wall. Azathoth began flapping his wings, causing a slight breeze to fan all around the room as he flew upward. I watched in bewilderment as he shot up and vanished through the massive ceiling hole.
My head craned up like an alarmed turkey to get a better look. “Where the fuck is he going?” I asked quietly, even though I knew Valarendrik couldn’t understand me.
I tried to take a step forward, but his hand shot out to block me. “No.” He spoke in a soft voice while keeping his eyes on the ceiling.
In a flash, Azathoth plummeted back down through the ceiling. His wings formed a sturdy shield, bracing himself for impact. He then smashed through the stone floor like a fucking cannonball. A thunderous blast boomed throughout the room, frightening all the skittering spiders back into their dark crevices. Valarendrik ducked protectively in front of me. He used his body and a swirling cloud of wispy black mist to block the large chunks of stone and debris that went flying all around from the explosion.
Holy smokes!
The dust settled, and Valarendrik’s shadowy shield dissipated as we peeked over at the massive, jagged aperture in the middle of the floor. Stone crumbled around the rubble-lined edges while the dissipating dust cloud swirled around it. A large, clawed hand emerged from the hole, gripping the edge. Azathoth’s disheveled, dusty head popped up, revealing a wickedly satisfied grin.
“Alright, it’s open. Let’s go!” He pointed down with excitement. With a brief look of confusion, he reached up and removed a small piece of stone that was impaled on one of his horns. He threw the useless rock aside with little care.
Valarendrik nodded in approval, and I’m pretty sure he said something along the lines of “good work.” He paced over with silent steps, then dropped down in one graceful motion, with his hair and coat swooshing into the darkness behind him. I staggered across the room after him, warily approaching the hole. A small shriek rang from my lips as Azathoth leapt up and swooped me into his arms. He then yanked me down into the darkness with him.