Wielding a Red Sword (37 page)

The hellhounds slowed and paused, then walked slowly on toward the group, tracked by the arrowheads. When they reached the center, Mym approached. He touched one and phased in.

The animals were willing. They hated Hell as much as the human souls did. Most animals retired at death to their own Afterlives, but some few were caught up in the human system, particularly those who had been pets or associates of man. They wanted to be free of it just as much as the human souls did.

Then we shall include you in the reckoning, on the same basis as the human souls
, Mym thought to it.
I, the human Incarnation of War, pledge this
.

I, the representative of the animals, accept this
, the hellhound thought back.
How may we serve you
?

We require transportation
.

We can provide it
.

So the pact was made. The two hellhounds loped away.

In an hour, two wild horses galloped in. Their dark manes flung out and their nostrils snorted steam; they were killer equines, damned for killing men. But for this they were tame.

Ligeia, being a princess, knew how to ride well. She and Mym mounted. “You know what to do,” Mym called to Diana as they rode away.

The horses galloped to the nearest ford and crossed the Acheron. People afoot would not have been able to do it, because of the foulness of the water, but these horses were toughened to it. Then they carried Mym and Ligeia to the checkpoint of their region of Hell.

This was simply a guard station at the intersection of several paved roads. A demon guard stood there, holding a flamethrower. It was obvious that any soul who tried to pass this point would get burned. Spiked fences extended from the checkpoint away across the terrain, and Mym knew that those would not be subject to passing, either; Hell surely had ways to make a fence tight. The only interruption of such a fence would be a river, which explained how the canoe had gotten them through.

They rode up on the wild horses and dismounted. The demon’s gaze followed them, and its flamethrower was ready. Mym took a step toward the checkpoint, then seemed to hesitate. “I don’t think we can go this way,” he said to Ligeia.

“Oh, and I did so want to be alone with you,” she said, speaking the line they had rehearsed.

They started to turn away. “Halt!” the demon cried.

They paused. The thing had taken the bait! “Oh, don’t let that demon get me!” Ligeia cried.

“Where were you going?” the demon demanded.

Ligeia turned, evincing a fright that was not wholly feigned. “I just—nowhere,” she said, trembling.

The demon’s red eyes glowed more brightly as he surveyed her body. Drool dribbled from a tusk. Demons might be incapable of such human emotions as love, but they could compass lust, and Ligeia’s figure incited that. “You can be alone with me, wench, and I don’t care who watches!”

“No!” she cried.

The demon aimed the flamethrower. “Come here, wench—or fry!”

Reluctantly, Ligeia approached the demon. Then, just as it was about to grab her, she screamed.

The demon dropped like a clod of manure. Mym hurried in and hauled it out of the box. Then he took the flame thrower and fired it, playing the flame over the demon’s body. Foul smoke went up as the body burned and vaporized. In a moment, nothing was left.

Mym waved his arm in a signal across the field. Immediately the hidden Amazons rose up, running toward the checkpoint.

A demon was coming down the road, evidently off duty from some mission of malice. “Hey, get back to work, you sluts!” it cried. But the Amazons charged right at it and, in a moment, had overwhelmed it and hacked it to pieces. The revolt was on!

Diana arrived at the checkpoint. “Take over,” Mym told her, presenting the flamethrower.

“No demon shall pass, Mars!” she said, thumping her chest on the flat right side with her fist. “We’ll mop up those remaining in this sector, never fear!”

They led the wild horses through, and Mym and Ligeia remounted on the other side of the checkpoint. They galloped toward the next one.

Mym was pleased. This first mission had gone smoothly, and the upper echelon of Hell had not been warned. If they could take out the other four as readily, the revolt would succeed before Satan even knew it was in progress.

For it was no secret exit from Hell that Mym had sought. He knew there was none. He had acquainted the leaders of the major sections with his plan for an organized rebellion, occurring virtually simultaneously in several regions, so that the demonic forces would be unable to concentrate on any one. There were a thousand damned souls for every demon, and only the tight organization and repressive tactics of the demons kept the souls cowed. As long as the major sections of Hell were sealed off from each other, no revolt could succeed, because the demons
would wipe it out by concentrating their force. The other sections would be unable to assist, if they even knew what was going on. Then, of course, there would be a brutal extra ration of torture for all those who had participated in the uprising. The thing about torture in Hell was that there was no necessary end to it; what would cause a mortal to die in agony merely caused the agony here. Those who did the equivalent of dying woke again the following day, for a resumption of the torture. And the demons were adept at easing up just shy of that momentary relief, so that there was no period of unconsciousness. No, it really wasn’t worth it, making trouble in Hell!

Of course they could not come at the next checkpoint from the central road; the demons would know immediately that two souls mounted on wild horses did not belong there. They had to cross at the rear and approach from inside. This checkpoint had merely gotten them into the region of fire; it had not given them freedom of Hell’s highways. But since they did not have to follow the devious river channel, they did gain time.

The wild horses, out of their territory, were not familiar with this region, but Ligeia had enough of a notion of it to guide them. They skirted the worst of the blazes and found the camp of the damned souls of this region. “It’s on!” Mym called as they galloped through. “Prepare the ambush! The Amazons are in control of their sector!”

There was immediately activity in the camp, as the souls moved out. They would remain hidden until Mym and Ligeia did their job, as would the Amazons.

In due course they emerged from a region of smoldering grass to come in sight of the checkpoint. Here the demon had a firehose, for a flamethrower would hardly stop those who were acclimatized to fire. The water that the hose would squirt was poisonous and would cause any flesh it touched to die and rot. This was just as effective in its fashion as the flamethrower at the other site.

At this station there were two female demons. The vulnerable-girl ploy would not work here; demonesses were no less lustful than the males, but their tastes differed. So for this one Mym made himself invisible and walked up alone. He carried a sharp knife that the Amazons had
given him, fashioned from a fragment of bone. Again he wondered how there could be bones where there was no mortal flesh and no true dying; he could only conjecture that Hell was stocked with all manner of repulsive things, including bones.

His foot struck a pebble, and the nearer demoness looked up. She opened her mouth—but Mym leaped at her and cut her throat before she could speak.

Mistake! The slash drew no blood. The mouth screamed warning to the other. Mym hacked away at the rest of the neck, severing the head more readily than he would a human head, for demons possessed no bones. But the severed head continued to scream, even as it rolled on the ground, and the arms flailed at him.

The other demoness caught up the water hose and turned on the water. She swept it in an arc, to catch whatever was there. The blast of it caught Mym dead center and knocked him back. But he retained his invisibility. Because he was an Incarnation, he was immune to the poison. He grabbed the decapitated demoness, used her as a shield, and advanced on the other.

Demons were not noted for spooking, but this sight of her beheaded companion advancing purposefully on her caused this one to stare. Then she dived for the alarm signal, to summon help.

Mym let the headless one go and flung himself on the other. She could not see him, but now she could feel him and she fought savagely, scratching at him with her claws and biting at him with her teeth. Tusks were just as dangerous on a female as on a male, but his cloak protected him from injury. He got her down and held her there. “Firefolk!” he yelled. “Here to me!”

In a moment the damned souls closed in and quickly tore apart both the whole and the partial demoness. Another sector had been liberated.

They mounted the wild steeds again and headed for the next. So far there was no general alarm in Hell—but that last had been close.

They proceeded to the next checkpoint. This one had a male and a female demon. Mym and Ligeia approached them together, but before they got close enough to act,
the male did a double take. “Hey, didn’t I see you at the mesa?” it demanded. “You were—”

Mym charged. He managed to take out the male, but not before the female had struck the alarm button. Then Mym dispatched her, and the damned souls took over the checkpoint.

But the damage had been done. The alarm had been sounded, and now the demons would be alert. Three sectors in rebel hands were not enough; they needed five, by Mym’s judgment. Five would stretch the demon forces out thin enough to resist; four was doubtful, and three insufficient.

“But maybe if we strike where unexpected,” Mym said.

They entered the sector of perpetual snows. The demons knew they would try for its opposite checkpoint next. Therefore they planned to go for the one by the region of forgetfulness instead.

To do this they had to cross the Acheron, the River of Sorrows. The fence went right up to the bank and down into the river, and the horses balked at entering the water. There was no shallow ford here; the fluid was deep and ugly. Mym was sure there would be much sorrow to the horses if they ventured there; the various boundaries of Hell were effective. But there had to be a way to cross; after all, the river was not that broad.

They tracked down the stream and found a region where the water coursed shallowly past a series of projecting stones. The horses stepped across these, practicing inhuman balance, and reached the farther shore. Then they followed it up past the region of the fence—and discovered that it was an island. They had not yet crossed the River of Sorrows.

They walked along the island, trying to find a way to cross the rest. They came upon an old, deserted building. It had a steeple with a cross on it.

“A church!” Ligeia exclaimed, astonished. “What is that doing in Hell?”

Mym, of course, was not a Christian. “I suppose artifacts of any type can be here. If a church happened to be—what do you call it, excommunicated—”

“I suppose so,” she said doubtfully. She opened the door and went in, and Mym followed, curious about this anomaly.

Inside it seemed empty—but Mym’s sensitivity to minds alerted him. “Something is here,” he said.

Ligeia passed along the central aisle, feeling the air above the pews with her hands. “Yes, there is something—ghostlike—some presence—”

“Ghosts—in Hell?” He touched a region she had indicated and felt it. “No, not exactly. These are mere thoughts. Instead of people, or spirits, there are only thoughts here. One thought per person.”

“Each thought in lieu of a person,” Ligeia repeated. “I wonder why? And why do they stay here, alone and quiet?”

Mym phased in to a thought. It was of suicide.

“I think these are people who committed suicide,” he said. “They aren’t quite damned, but Heaven doesn’t really favor them, so they are here in limbo.”

“But
I
committed—” she said.

“And you were damned for your other crimes—killing the other people in the airplane. Rightly or wrongly. Otherwise you might have found yourself here.”

She nodded, agreeing. “It really isn’t a bad place. Or a bad situation, being a thought.”

“But we can’t stay,” he reminded her. “We have other business.”

“Yes …” Almost reluctantly, she followed him out of the church.

They found a fallen tree that spanned the stream. The horses walked up it, employing their uncommon balance, and jumped down at the other shore. They were across the river and through the fence, too.

“The suicides,” Ligeia murmured as they rode away.

“In a church on an island in the River of Sorrows. I suppose that’s fitting, somehow.”

“If they had reason to do it, it doesn’t seem right to send them to everlasting torture,” Mym agreed.

She seemed satisfied with that, but remained pensive as they rode on.

Now they were in the region of forgetfulness, bounded
on the other side by the River Lethe. The demons at the checkpoint, true to form for this region, had forgotten to be watchful, and Mym took them out without trouble. The damned souls of this region took over the checkpoint.

Four down; one to go. This one was in the frozen region, bounded by the River of Lamentation, Kokytus. They had no trouble crossing its ice—but they knew they would not have the advantage of surprise this time.

“If we make this one, we shall be successful,” Mym said. “If not—”

“I love you, Mym,” Ligeia said. “If I never get out of Hell, I will still be better for that.”

“I will not leave you in Hell,” he said. They leaned over, each riding a wild horse, and kissed.

The final checkpoint was indeed expecting them. Demons were ranged along the fence on either side of it, standing in the snow, each bearing a flamethrower.

They drew up at a distance, concealed by snow-covered trees, and considered. “No way we can get there unchallenged,” Mym said. “If I approached invisibly, my footprints would show in the snow; in any event, I couldn’t overcome several hundred demons.”

Snowbeard, the leader of the snow movers approached. “You have the other four regions secure?”

“True,” Mym agreed. “But without this one, I doubt the revolt can be successful.”