Tribulation (4 page)

Sam ignored
most of it. He’d seen it before and while disturbing, he’d become
quite inured to it. After a quick scan around, it was time to get
to work. Clearing an area roughly in the center of the nave, he
produced some chalk from a pocket and quickly sketched the outline
of a pentagram. Working from the inside, he was conscious of the
fact that if this didn’t work, he was potentially trapping himself
in. A pentagram wouldn’t, but a pentacle would. All it took was for
him to connect the points of the pentagram with a circle.

Before he could
complete the circle, he fumbled the chalk and dropped it, watching
helplessly as it rolled away out of reach. He didn’t dare stand to
retrieve it for fear of disturbing his pentagram. He clucked in
irritation, wishing that the chalk would somehow just return to his
hand.

Something
happened. He saw it out of the corner of his eye. At first he
thought he was seeing things and then he realized that yes, the
chalk had just moved by itself. Nothing had touched it. There was
no wind inside the church to stir it. The chalk had moved of its
own accord, exactly at the same time he had wished it was in his
hand. He decided to experiment. What did he have to lose? There
wasn’t exactly anyone around to laugh at him when he failed.

He closed his
eyes and concentrated, reaching out. In his mind’s eye, he could
see the chalk. He concentrated harder and began to get a sense of
the feel of it – could actually feel it like it was physically in
his hand. He willed it to come to him, to move, to return to his
hand. Gritting his teeth with the effort, he felt the chalk move in
his mind and knew that he was succeeding. A light touch on his
fingertips confirmed it. He opened his eyes and looked down. The
chalk was where he’d known it would be, right next to his fingers.
Sam smiled in satisfaction. That was some party trick. There were
certainly benefits to being a half-demon – especially a demon
Prince. He’d remember this one. It could come in handy some
day.

He took a deep
breath and used the chalk to draw a circle around his pentagram,
instantly transforming it into a pentacle and imbuing the symbol
with the power to block mental and demonic physical attacks. In his
case, it also served as his own trap. When he was growing up in
Jacob’s Ladder, Sam had often slept safe within the chalky outlines
of a pentacle. It had been worth it, to finally sleep without
dreams, free of his father’s constant mental bombardment.

Of course, his
master, Hikari or Aimi had been around then to free him by simply
breaking the outline. But now … well, now there was no one.
Potentially, he could break free but it would probably take every
ounce of strength he possessed, leaving him weak and vulnerable for
days if not weeks. And even then, it wasn’t a given.

“This better
work,” he said aloud. He’d prepared and thought it through
carefully and was confident that he had a good chance, but of
course, he’d never done this before either. It wasn’t something
that you could practice. He’d traveled the other way before - from
Hell to Earth - albeit with help from Joshua. He’d even traveled to
Earth to Hell before but that was through a portal created by the
Lemure. He’d never actually done this all by himself before.

”Draw the
pentacle, visualize the place and will yourself there,” he
muttered.

Sam still had
some questions. Were there certain designated emergent points in
Hell, much like the churches were on Earth? Could he just visualize
any place in Hell and will himself there? In all fairness, during
his last visit, Sam hadn’t seen much of Hell, intent as he was on
hiding or escaping, so his options were fairly limited. Besides,
much of Hell looked alike. How did you tell one part of it from
another?

Sam sighed and
decided to play it safe. He would visualize, or at least try to
visualize, the place where he’d emerged last time. Surely that
would work? Surely.

He felt a
niggling doubt but decided to ignore it. He had to do it. For his
mother’s sake. For Grace. In any case, he was committed now,
trapped inside the pentacle. As a last exercise in procrastination,
he checked that his backpack was secure, that his Katana was
strapped to the outside of it and his Wakizashi was securely tucked
into the belt at his waist. They were exactly in the same places
they had been fifteen minutes earlier. With a shrug, he sat down,
crossed his legs and closed his eyes.

For a few
minutes, nothing happened. He found it hard to concentrate, his
mind slipping away onto other, more pleasant memories. The pentacle
blocked all the psychic energy that the demon-infested Earth was
now suffused with. It was a pleasant change from the usual constant
mental barrage. He’d missed this feeling. Of course, the remembered
feeling gave way to other memories: memories of Aimi; of shared
pleasures, of caresses and kisses, of her smile and the way her
long hair seemed to dance in the breeze. Grudgingly, he tore his
mind away from thoughts that served to torture him. What was the
point in remembering something that could never be again? Aimi was
in Heaven and always would be. A place where he could never go.

The thought
made him angrier than he anticipated, wiping out the happy, mellow
memories. Without warning, his mind was channeled to a darker
place, a place filled with flames and terror, a place he couldn’t
deny felt more like home than any other he had known. Hell.

He locked on to
the thought, squeezing his eyes tighter in concentration. Something
was happening. A movement, a translocation. All at once, he felt
different. Stronger. More powerful. He took a deep breath and hot
gaseous sulfur filled his lungs. Smiling tightly he opened his
eyes, knowing full well what to expect.

Sure enough, he
was once again in Hell. But it wasn’t in a place he recognized.
Suddenly concerned, Sam stood quickly. The flames of the pentacle
were dying already, its power exhausted. He stepped over the
outline without restriction and gazed around him. His mouth dropped
in awe.

He was standing
atop a rocky finger. Hundreds of feet below him was a sea of raging
fire. It surrounded the rocky outcrop he was on completely and went
on for as far as the eye could see. Hot winds buffeted him, blowing
the hood from his head as if to tell him that the need to conceal
his heritage was unnecessary here.

He’d done it –
he’d transported himself to Hell – just not to the right part.
Something had gone wrong. Instead of arriving in a place he vaguely
recognized, he was now trapped and isolated with no way of
escape.

What the Hell
was he meant to do now?

Hell

“…
to the land of
deepest night, of deep shadow and disorder, where even the light is
like darkness."
Job 14:22

S
am took stock slowly, carefully evaluating the
situation like Hikari had taught him. Sure, he was in Hell, but
that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. For one thing, he felt great,
and that was certainly a positive. And it wasn’t like he was
trapped. He could just craft another pentacle, visualize the church
he’d just come from – for that matter, any church he remembered –
and will himself back to Earth. Couldn’t he? But then a niggling
thought intruded, sowing the seeds of doubt in his mind. What
happened if it didn’t work properly, as it clearly hadn’t this
time? What happened if he found himself back on Earth surrounded by
demons and demon-worshippers? Or worse – what would he do if he
found his ability to transport himself no longer worked. He’d be
trapped in Hell for ever.

He sighed,
silently berating himself for his self-doubt. The last thing he
needed to do right now was start speculating on things that hadn’t
even happened yet, and may never transpire. What he needed to do
was find practical solutions.

He looked up.
Miles above was the broken rocky ceiling that served as the upper
limit of Hell. Lit by the burning fires below, it was bathed in a
warm, flickering glow. Tiny, insect-like shapes fluttered near it
but Sam knew that it was deceptive. They must be hulking Astaroth,
lesser Princes of Hell, soaring on the hot currents of air. There
seemed to be other shapes up there as well. Sam wasn’t so naïve as
to think he knew every type of demon. The ancient tome of
demonology given to him by Hikari long ago contained details of
many different types but it was hardly comprehensive. Sam had
encountered the more common ones but he was certain that Hell had
other surprises in store for him.

Still, the fact
that these flying demons soaring above him appeared to be several
miles away was another positive. It would be an absolute disaster
if he had to fight wave after wave of Astaroth, trapped on this
island of rock. Even he couldn’t fight them off forever; eventually
they would wear him down. But so far, his appearance had gone
unnoticed. Sam wanted to make sure he kept it that way, so couldn’t
stay here. It was only a matter of time before a passing demon
spotted him and raised the alarm.

In recent
years, he’d learnt to shroud his mind and presence from other
demons using a kind of glamor ability. It had come in handy on
Earth of course but now it was about to get a proper workout. He
wasn’t sure whether it would actually work in Hell, but he was
about to find out. He concentrated, putting the glamor in place,
leaving it to operate on automatic without conscious thought. If it
worked, great. If not, then he’d deal with the consequences when
they occurred.

That done, he
checked out his immediate surroundings. The rocky finger was only
about ten feet in diameter – not much larger than the now invisible
pentacle that had brought him here. He took a few careful steps
over to the edge. His first impression had been largely correct.
The outcrop was at least two hundred feet tall, surrounded by a sea
of fire. What he thought of as the nearest rocky shoreline was, if
he had to guess, probably five miles distant. It wasn’t really a
shoreline though – more like a towering wall of rock. And that was
the nearest one. When he looked around, the other shorelines seemed
to be ten or even twenty miles away.

He focused on
the wall closest to him. Even with his enhanced vision, it was hard
to make out any detail. He thought he could see ant-like figures
moving up and down the wall, but he couldn’t be sure. Last time
he’d been in Hell, the scenery had been similar but different in
one crucial way: the precipice he’d looked over last time had had
islands of rock floating amidst the fires of Hell. On these
islands, the cursed human inhabitants of Hell had been subjected to
continuous torture. Where he was now, apart from the one piece of
rock he’d been lucky enough to emerge upon, was absolutely free of
rocky islands. And he was starting to consider himself lucky.
Imagine if he’d actually emerged in the sea of flames? Although
immune to some forms of fire and resistant to others, Sam doubted
even he’d be able to survive in that sea for very long. He scanned
the sea with renewed interest. The fires were almost solid, but
like a sea, had peaks and troughs. It undulated like something
alive, hurling hot gusts of sulfur-redolent air straight into Sam’s
face.

He was about to
give up when he saw movement, movement that wasn’t part of the sea.
He watched again, more carefully this time, focusing on the area
where he’d seen the earlier movement. There! A tail, reminiscent of
a serpent, broke the surface for a moment. It was almost the same
color as the fires that surrounded it but more vivid, a brighter
hue of orange and red. If Sam’s sense of scale was correct, just
the tip of tail that he’d glimpsed must have been at least twenty
feet long. That meant … Sam gulped. No wonder there were no fire
demons resident in this sea. Sam didn’t blame them. If there were
fire serpents over a hundred feet in length living in this sea,
then he wouldn’t want to be in there either. The residents of Hell
weren’t exactly inclined towards friendship with one another.

Sam shook his
head despairingly. Even if he could survive in these fires, he
didn’t fancy his chances against massive fire serpents. Crossing
the sea was clearly out of the question.

He examined the
rocky precipice again. Nothing. The landscape of Hell seemed to be
a uniform black volcanic rock. The rock he stood upon looked
exactly the same as any other piece of Hell. No help there. A
thought occurred to him. Lying flat on the rock, he dragged himself
to the edge and looked over and directly down the face of the rock.
The rock was broken and cragged - perfect handholds. He could
easily descend - but to what? A smile slowly appeared on Sam’s
face. Down at the very base of the rocky finger, down where fiery
waves lapped at the edges, there appeared to be a platform. Sam
didn’t know what the purpose of it was but it was definitely better
than sitting here.

He stood up,
adjusted and tightened his backpack and swords, and began the long
climb down.