Hope's Light

Chapter 8

by Erisian

Book 6

 

If you have yet to read the saga - the tale starts here:

Into The Light

Hope you enjoy!

 

Chapter Eight - Knives

 

We rode for at least a couple hours if not more. At the speeds the trucks could reach, the wind’s whipping past in all the tunnels made further conversation with the guy next to me impossible - though before we’d pulled out he’d introduced himself as Santiago.

I’d told him to call me Jane, and neither of us were rude enough to point out that we’d obviously given aliases.

Having unloaded by the trucks into a sloppy line of hapless souls at what appeared to be a cavern’s dead end, Sergeant Yurglith graced us with yet more shouting.

“Listen up, worms! This here is your Harrowing. Prove your mettle, survive, and maybe the city of Dis can make better use of you than turning your sorry asses into bricks.”

That earned some puzzled and worried looks from the headlights-illuminated motley crew, though no one braved interrupting him.

Smart.

Pulling out a small metallic orb decorated with a few tiny colored buttons, he pushed a green one and it projected a three-dimensional image into the air before us. Little dots of red and blue blinked at the top with a pattern matching us souls, the two trucks, and the squad that had spread out in a semicircle preventing any rush in the only direction of travel seemingly available.

The monochrome green lines representing the ground beneath our feet expanded downward however, showing a maze of tunnels - maybe sewer infrastructure at the top - spiraling through the earth until opening into a massive cavern. As the view pulled back, the cavern gained resolution to reveal it wasn’t empty.

The expansive space filled with what appeared to be an enclosed town big enough to house thousands of residents, with two to three story buildings and streets running between them. A larger structure sat at the center, complete with defensive towers, moat, and battlements.

Yep, someone had built a medieval castle in the middle of an underground city.

The sergeant continued. “Your task is to make your way through to here,” he growled, pointing at the map where the tunnels ended above one side of the town. “With the rope we’re gonna give you, repel down to this rooftop and then cross through the abandoned city. The goal is to get inside that castle, see what’s in there, and get out the way you came in.”

I decided to play stupid and raised a just-released hand. “How abandoned is it?”

Yurglith smirked. “Good question. Go find out.”

A tall but lean guy in our line muttered, “Fucking recon.”

I was about to ask another question when the ground under us groaned and shifted. Not enough to knock any of us over, but having grown up in California I immediately recognized the swaying for what it was.

An earthquake. A small one, but still.

The guards didn’t spook at the quake, keeping their guns aimed at us - guns all with bright green LEDs just above their thumbs. But several souls crouched in panic, putting hands over their heads as the rocks above covered us with a thin layer of falling dust. The thought of crawling through tunnels suddenly became a lot less appealing.

“The faster you get this done,” said the sergeant while ignoring the shaking, “the sooner you’re back at our post. We may even feed you.”

As the stone under our feet settled, the multi-armed sergeant shouted to his crew. Two large duffel bags got yanked off their truck and dropped before us. Unzipping them revealed the promised rope and climbing gear - and also a pile of various energy launching weapons much like those the guards were holding.

“Gear up!” Yurglith shouted as he turned off the map. “And before you think of using those power-slingers against us, know that they’re coded to not fire within range of anyone in my platoon. Said range is about a hundred and fifty cubits, max. They also won’t work outside these tunnels and that playground below. You go down the hole in ten. Be ready!”

Interesting to know. Due to the unit conversions learned when last I was in Hell, that meant their range was useless beyond about two hundred and twenty feet. Or about two-thirds of a football field. Ugh. They’d be worthless for long-range sniping in that town.

As the more eager among us immediately huddled around the blasters, with the expected shoving and cursing as they greedily grabbed at them, I ignored all that and walked up to the sergeant. He raised a ridged eyebrow and barked, “What?”

I peered up at him. “Got any blades?”

“You got guns. Go grab one before they’re none left.”

“I don’t see any spare power packs. How many shots are each even good for? And you gonna give us time to practice with them before we go down that hole?” I pointed to the open manhole (soulhole?) near the dead end’s wall. Its heavy cover had been pulled off, resting only a foot or so away.

He chuckled. “And what kind of bladed weapon would you want?”

“Against assholes bigger than me, a glaive. But that won’t fit worth shit through those tunnels. Daggers, knives - heck, a machete would be nice. Likely a lot quieter than those boomsticks too unless they have a silencer setting.”

“They don’t.” He stared for a long moment then nodded. “You’re clever, little lady. But don’t be too clever.” Turning to his squad, he called out to them in demonic. “Give her something more to her liking!”

After a moment’s hesitation quickly squelched by the sergeant’s stern impatience, a few items appeared from their personal armaments. A pair of boot knives three inches in length was offered, and to my surprise an actual machete as requested - along with a double-edged slender dagger, and even a single-edged seven-inch blade almost exactly like a Green Beret’s ‘Yarborough’ knife complete with belt sheath.

Much to the amusement of the sergeant, I took the entire lot. Even flipped and caught each one a few times to get a sense of their balance.

They weren’t bad. Not great either, but not horrible.

Turning to the souls, the bags of things that went zap lay empty and a few of the larger guys had wrapped coils of rope around their chests like bandoleers. Santiago was bent over examining the contents of a smaller backpack, laying out a set of tools including carabiners and other items I wasn’t familiar with.

I may have been stuck on the Rock for a couple years, but there hadn’t been much call for actual rock climbing. Scaling ladders we’d used, sure, but I’d never had to ascend the ice volcano at the center.

At least, not by using hands and feet.

Stepping past the grinning idiots busy fondling their new power toys, I moved to Santiago and pointed at his new gear with the machete. “You know how to use all that?”

“Yes.” He looked up, noting the various knives now tucked into place. Shaking his head, he pulled one of two pistols from his waistband and held it out. “Take it. As you can see I have another.”

“No thanks. I don’t trust any weapon someone can turn off remotely.”

He turned it in his hand, considering. The light on its side blinked red.

“Here.” Retrieving one of the knives from my boot, I offered it along with the Yarborough. “You should always have two backups you can count on.”

Inclining his head in thanks he took them, fastening them into place. “You do not trust the guns, but you trust me?”

“Trust? No. Work with to mutual advantage? Yeah.”

That earned an evaluating nod, and he began returning the climbing tools into the pack.

While he did that, I moved away from him and the others to be closer to the manhole. Taking a knee, I bowed my head as if in prayer - knowing that would look pretty darn weird considering where we were.

Except I wasn’t praying.

Hiding the glow from eyes against a forearm, I scanned the tunnels below us. Sure enough they weren’t empty. The traces down there weren’t demonic or strong enough to be classified as devils, but there were hell-beasts of some kind scattered throughout. Having memorized the projected map, it was clear we would come across them on the way to the exit.

Yeah, that wouldn’t do.

I lifted my head and sent out a thought. “Tsáyidiel!”

“My Queen?”

“There are critters in the tunnels. Some trigger-happy idiot will just as soon shoot a comrade down there than the actual target. When you can do so without being observed, get in and clear the path, then wait near the exit to that caverned town.”

“If I do I will be unable to protect you from the, as you put it, ‘trigger-happy idiots.’”

“I’ll be fine. Right now we need to protect them from themselves.”

“These are evil men, my Queen. Their souls are bathed with the blood of innocents. You wish their protection?”

“I…yeah, for now. The more of them that make it back, the less suspicion will be on my cover.”

“As you command.”

There was a brush of wind and he was on his way.

No one saw a thing, not even me.

Making tracks back to the sergeant who was busy taking a smoke break with his demons, I gestured over a shoulder at the open hole behind. “Hey, there’s no light down there. We’re gonna need flashlights.”

One of his extra hands still holding the map device flipped it to me. “Push the yellow button.”

Catching it, I did as instructed. The baseball-sized orb immediately lit up as if it was a free-floating lightbulb. I pushed the button again to turn it off. “What’s the blue and red buttons for?”

“When you reach the target, push the blue and wave it about. It’ll record the surroundings. And if you happen to be the last survivor about to get creamed, push the red one.”

“Let me guess: it goes boom?”

He again gave a toothy grin. “Yeah. And if you return without it, you’ll wish you’d been in its range.”

Charming.

Looking back at the souls all now staring at me, I pointed at one. “You! Yeah, you. Did you get all that?”

The guy, who was Asian and with the way he moved probably had some military training, nodded. “Yes.”

“Great.” I underhand tossed the device to him. “You get to be in front.”

“What? Why?” Having grabbed it from the air on instinct, he then stared at the orb wide-eyed like it was a hot potato.

“You’re the shortest, you’ll block less of our only light for those of us stuck following your ass.”

Wanting to object, he looked around only to find that the rest of the souls either agreed or didn’t want to be first. Santiago and a few of the others openly chuckled.

The sergeant, deciding that was the cue to send us on our way, bellowed, “Form up!”

We did so, Santiago deliberately placing himself behind me in the line. Appreciating my comment about the limited lighting, the larger men shuffled to the rear. The two biggest (one pale and the other deeply-tanned) threw hands to see who’d be stuck at the very back.

Paper beat rock, and the prone-to-sunburn offensive lineman became our caboose. Sadly our lead car didn’t toot like a train as we proceeded into the hole and the dark.

Hey, I at least would have chuckled.

 

~o~O~o~

 

Behind me someone grumbled. “Why the fuck is the ground so sticky?”

It had taken awhile to work our way through the sewer levels to reach the transition point to the tighter tunnels. The entrance to those was disquieting - as instead of the obvious industrial construction we’d just passed through, the wall and passage beyond appeared more to have been, well, chewed through.

This had led to another argument about how to read the map, a repeated discussion which quickly had become tiresome. Having memorized the stupid thing, too often I’d needed to shout to the idiots which direction to go.

I don’t think they appreciated the back row guidance very much. Tough.

But these lower tunnels through the dirt were tight and claustrophobic as heck, and even near the middle like I was only the barest of flickers from the orb at the front could be seen - along with the tiny lights on each of the guns which had switched to green once we’d gone down a level. What was really fun was that whenever the front leaders paused, the rest of us would inevitably shove our faces into the rears of the soul directly before us. Santiago apologized to me each time, but as it kept happening that almost became comical. I might have even laughed if it weren’t for being dust-choked, rock-scraped, and busy wondering again why the heck I was putting up with all this.

It was in these rock tubes that I’d earlier sensed the lurking hell-beasts, and Tsáyidiel had indeed been thorough in clearing them out - hence the complaints from the crew.

“Yeah, and it smells worse than the butt of this dude before me.”

“Shove your nose further into that ass then and shut up!”

“Hey, up yours!”

“I ain’t the one in front of you, good luck with that!”

“Shit, man. Ain’t like any of us have had a chance to shower.”

“Hey, lightboy! What the fuck are we crawling through? Your mom’s menstruation hole?”

“Damn, tha’s nasty!”

Our reluctant leader stopped to wave the light around at the walls, causing another round of face-to-butt collisions. “Uh…”

“Well?”

“It’s purple gunk. Think something died and got dragged away somewhere.”

“How fresh?”

“As fresh as that guy’s mom!”

“Zip it back there! Lightboy, is it from a recent kill?”

“Uh, maybe? Yeah, I think so.”

“No wonder it reeks.”

“We’re sittin’ ducks here, man!”

“Fuck this shit!”

Sensing their panic rise, I added my own shout to the mix. “Keep it together, boys! Caboose in the rear, crawl backwards and if you hear anything scurrying towards us, shoot first and ask questions later. Everyone else, every ten feet lean hard to the left - let some of that light shine past so the caboose can see if anything is there!”

“Hell nah, screw that! We should book it as fast as we can!”

“Don’t be stupid!” I barked. “Point lead needs to check around each corner! Or else we could run into whatever the hell it is that lives down here!”

“Don’t call me stupid!”

“Then stop being an idiot!”

Sounds of a scuffle came from behind. “I ain’t taking no shit from some smart-ass bitch! Let me past!”

“There’s no room, asshole!”

Santiago’s voice cracked out. “Children, enough! We keep going! Anyone not moving forward, shoot them. And please, do it in silence, we do not know what may be listening.” His timbre made it obvious every word was meant.

The train of lunkheads kept going, this time - other than the occasional grunt - in blessed quiet. I think the thought of beastly things hearing them scared them straight.

Either that or Santiago’s sinister and chilling overtones.

Another hour of creeping along in the dark and the line again halted.

This time though, no one called out about it.

Our orb-wielder, in a more hushed tone, spoke. “Need the guy with the climbing gear. Think this is it. And pass up the rope.”

Fortunately the passage here wasn’t as tight as many of the other spots, and Santiago was able to squeeze past. If we hadn’t lined up smallest to biggest (for the most part), he wouldn’t have fit.

After handing on the coiled rope, I unslung the larger canteen and took a measured swallow before tugging on the pants leg of the guy in front of me. He looked back, and after some light flickered enough past everyone for him to see what I was offering, he took it to also take a swallow.

He was smart and didn’t chug it. With a nod he handed it back.

Having to ration the water made my chest ache. I missed Twitch and his bottomless waterskin.

Low whispers filtered down the line. “Guy with the gear says he needs the girl.”

Well shit.

While taller, I was definitely skinnier than Santiago so managed forward without too much trouble. And I was thankful that the macho idiot still mumbling outraged commentary was further back.

Frankly, the guys enjoyed having me squish on past, what with the flashes of grinning teeth whenever the light hit right.

At the front Santiago had taken point, and carefully used his pack to keep the orb’s illumination from spilling out the hole we’d arrived at. With the glare from the orb, I couldn’t see anything through it - but there was definitely an airy draft and a sense of a wide open space.

“What’s up?” I asked as the front-man crept backwards to give us more room.

“This.” Moving the orb and pack, he lit up three bolts driven into the rock just inside our crawlspace - each with clips attached and loops of rope converging into a knot that had another clip on it leading to a longer loop of rope.

Except that Santiago was holding the other ends of that longer loop - ends which had all been neatly sheered.

“That’s not ours, is it?” I asked. The rope I’d just handed over had been a deep red.

Whereas what he held was black.

He shook his head. “No. These anchors were already here.”

“So we’re not the first to go this way.”

Dropping the sliced cord, he covered the light. “Are demons capable of flight?”

“Yeah. It’s rare, but some can.”

“Then we would be sitting ducks on such a line.”

I shifted from being on one knee to crouching upon both, then leaned forward to stick my noggin out the hole. What I really wanted to do was power up and take a solid look around, but then I’d become a floodlight flaring out over the town below. Except I didn’t have to.

“Beloved Hunter.”

“I am here, my Queen.”

“Are there signs of creatures airborne or in the buildings below?”

“There are tracks, my Queen. But currently I do not detect any.”

“Understood.”

Pulling back up, I turned onto my side. “I don’t hear anything.”

Santiago touched my leg. “An owl is silent when in flight.”

“Look, this is supposed to be a demonstration of our survival skills, right? A test.”

“Only according to what they informed us. They could easily have lied.”

“And they also could have killed us - you know, mashed us to stones - the moment we each got off the boat.”

“True.”

“Which means this whole area could be a common testing site, hence these anchors still being here.” I thought for a moment. “Hmm. Demons don’t like taking risks unless absolutely ordered to.”

“And?”

“The drop is what, a hundred feet? One-fifty? That’s still in range of our guns. They attack that way, they’re wide open. Why risk it for some stupid test?” No, I wasn’t about to mention demonic wizardry and the various protection spells they could use. Anything that powerful and Tsáyidiel should have noticed.

“What of the offal in the tunnels? Were those from demons?”

“Hard to say. Could just be Hell-critters. Maybe they cleared them out for us.”

“And these critters - can they also fly?”

“Maybe? I don’t know much about the wildlife of this realm. How much rope we got?”

“Three coils of about sixty meters.”

Oh. How to tell someone you’re from America without saying you’re from America? Use ‘feet’ as a unit of measure like I just had. “So if one gets cut, we could lower another.”

“Provided someone remains up here.”

I thought about it. As defensive positions went, the narrow tunnel wasn’t bad. It wasn’t Spartan-last-stand worthy, but anything shot would just plug it up more. “Leave three or so behind? If that can’t hold against whatever spilled that purple gunk, we’d be breakfast on the way out anyway.”

“A reasonable assessment.”

“Good. You tell the boys. They won’t listen to me - at least, not unless I do something drastic to force ‘em to.”

He paused, and I wondered if I’d said too much. Finally he asked, “Do you have a specifically dramatic action in mind?”

“Not particularly, no. Why?”

“Simple curiosity.” He turned and began whispering to the guys in the line.

Santiago’s plan was quickly agreed upon. Not everyone had been happy about it, especially the three biggest guys who had metaphorically drawn the short straws to remain behind. Their strength was going to be needed to help safely lower us inexperienced rope climbers, and of course to haul us back up. Not that I blamed them for not wanting this duty, as to follow the demon’s instructions we had to take the map orb with us. They’d be stuck at the end of pitch black tunnels without so much as a matchstick.

It was also decided that Santiago would go down last so he could make sure the rope was secure for each trip and act as the belayer. He’d also then be the last back up and would bring with him the third rope along with the packed grappling hook - since only he had training on how to use it properly. Just in case. Besides, we might need it to scale that castle’s walls.

Speaking of the castle, it actually had lights along the battlements. From this distance they weren’t bright, but the familiar glow of enchanted crystals dotted the towers. Killing the light from our orb, we waited long enough for eyes to fully adjust - and the fort’s dim illumination was sufficient to make out the outlines of rooftops below us. Comforting, this - we didn’t have to plunge down the line into total unknown.

Just mostly unknown.

One by one we went, which since we didn’t have actual harnesses was not a pleasant experience. Santiago looped the rope around each traveler such that it wouldn’t get free, but yeah - that meant anchoring between our inner thighs.

Advantage there to me. Provided the rope didn’t slip all the way up, anyway.

We really should have been given harnesses for this. Since it was a straight drop, we couldn’t even use the side of a cliff to balance against. While on the way down, I added that demonic sergeant to an ever-growing list of folks needing a good butt-kicking.

The rooftop itself was atop a two-story structure, and fortunately for us was nice and flat. Upon arrival, after freeing ourselves from Santiago’s many knots, we tugged on it so he could pull the rope back up for the next dangling victim. Then we took lookout positions on each floor. Not having a gun, I stayed on the roof, going down on a knee to peer over the side towards the castle.

There really wasn’t much to see, and the lack of streetlights was going to make choosing the best route towards the center tricky. Still, in terms of cover and safest approach, I began planning an approach.

Which is when one of the souls kicked my boot with his. “Gimme water.”

From voice alone, I knew it was the one I’d called stupid. “Should have brought your own.” I shifted weight off the knee pressed to the rooftop, and fingers adjusted their position on the hilt of the machete I’d kept out.

“You got two, bitch. Share.”

I slowly rose and turned to face him, keeping the blade flat against a leg. While I did he backed off and raised a blaster rifle to point at my chest. Our eyes locked, and I gazed past the dark complexion and punk-style spiky hair to the serious insecurities and fear within. “We going to have a problem?”

“Ain’t no ‘gonna’ about it. And gimme that jungle slicer you holdin’ there too.”

Three things came into focus. First was that Santiago was still on his way down. Another was that the other men in their various mismatched outfits had all stopped what they were doing to watch with absolutely no intentions of interfering. “You really don’t want to pull that trigger.”

“Way I figure it, as we already be in Hell, there ain’t no more worry ‘bout what’s right or wrong. So why not just blow your brains all over the place, eh?”

“You really do lack in the intelligence department, don’t you.”

“Don’t disrespect me, ya slut! Maybe we all take turns playin’ wit’ you first - you’d probably like that! Ya know, I bet you would!”

Over half of the others on the roof stepped forward with anticipatory grins, and waves of lust filled the air as if the wind had shifted from a nearby garbage heap. Shielding against it, I stayed silent.

Lowering the gun’s aim to my stomach, the idiot smiled just as lecherously as the others. “How ‘bout you strip and give us a dance first.”

“Why don’t you focus more about what all those demons are going to do to you if you don’t finish this mission.”

“Fuck the mission. I want to see your naked ass.” He raised the gun again. “Do it!”

“That’s a solid nope. So go ahead. Shoot.”

“Don’t think I won’t!”

“I doubt you’ve got the balls, asshole.”

The finger twitched and, whether he really meant to or not, pulled the trigger.

Except nothing happened.

You see, the last thing I had spotted was that the LED on the side of his gun currently blinked red.

While he gaped in surprise - and indeed tried to pull the trigger again - I was already in motion. A looping high kick to the face sent him stumbling, followed with a spinning back kick directly to the solar plexus. I didn’t exactly pull my strength either.

I may have been irritated.

He launched backwards going fully airborne, his ass landing first then skidding along the roof before tumbling up over his head from sheer momentum. Having chased after, as he began to weakly groan and roll over, he found me standing over him with the machete’s point held dangerously close to a certain spot between his legs.

I didn’t exactly catch his reaction in detail, only peripherally. This was due to staring down all the other disgusting men who’d been eager to participate. Most however were too busy fumbling with their guns to keep attention focused on me.

Like the weapon dropped by the idiot now flirting with castration, theirs also blinked the same shade of crimson.

Behind the jerk, Santiago dropped to the roof. Not bothering undoing ropes first, he stepped closer to us. “Is something the matter?”

“Yeah,” I said. “We have a problem. The guns are disabled.”

“I see. Then I do believe we have much to discuss.” With a look to me for my nodded permission, he then offered his free hand to the would-be rapist and murderer. I took a step back.

The young man with the cracked ribs winced, but took the hand and got lifted - albeit unsteadily - to his feet. “Thanks, man, I-”

He never had the chance to finish the statement.

With instant speed and professional accuracy, Santiago used the Yarborough to open the guy’s throat side to side.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading...and for commenting!

- Erisian