Chapter LIV: Descent

The demon’s breath was fetid and hot. It was a stench such as no other, like rotten meat on open flame, enough to curdle milk with a single sniff. Such a vile odor would likely paralyze a man if fully exposed. What Ryu’s dragon-sharp nose could pick up as he ran was more than enough to keep his legs moving.

His feet barely touched the ground as the scenery rushed past him. The flapping of wings and the howls behind him spurned him ever onwards. The Dragoon’s lungs burned in his chest, and his breath came only with great effort. Moving forward was becoming increasingly difficult as the chase wore on. Bo streaked past him, eyes darting backwards constantly in preparation to fend off the creatures if they grew too close to Ryu. Against the horde at their backs, anything the wyvern might hope to accomplish was futile.

Whisper-thin shafts of sunlight broke over the mountains of La Theine, muted though they were by the unceasingly gray pall caressing the sky. The appearance of the sun sent a shiver down Ryu’s spine as his legs struggled to remain in motion. He had been running for hours without eluding his pursuers. They came at him doggedly, unceasingly, their howls cutting the air all through the night. Demons never tired.

Something struck his thoughts through the bond, and he shot a backwards grimace at Bo as they continued their flight.

“This is not my fault,” he argued, the wind from a demon’s sword stroke brushing against his neck as he ran. Bo’s expression was answer enough to the Dragoon’s assertion.

“I had no way of knowing!” Ryu defended, hoisting Mezraq, the twin-bladed spear Bahamut had bestowed upon him, over his shoulder. In a symphony of motion and coordination, he planted the weapon in the ground even while running. Hurtling himself forward, the Dragoon vaulted away from the relentless attackers behind him. Bo planted his wings at his sides and shot forward, struggling to keep up with Ryu’s evasive maneuvers. Still, the tiny blue wyvern was more than able to avoid the frenzied and random attacks of the demons pursuing the duo.

Bo’s reference, Ryu knew, was to his decision to stop in one of the villages of La Theine. Hoping to find more than the meager scraps of food and water he had been living off of the first few days of his trek to the tomb of King Ranperre, Ryu had broken from his path and made for a small town he remembered being in the area.. Home to a community of loggers and miners, it was a quaint stop in between San d’Oria and Selbina, situated near the labyrinthine caverns called Ordelle’s Caves. By the time he arrived, it was clear the picks and axes of the Elvaan town had long ago fallen silent.

To call the La Theine village a ghost town would not have been wholly accurate. A ghost town would hold within its emptiness the sorrow and loneliness of a community long ago abandoned. The memories embedded within the stone and dirt would silently mourn those long forgotten, creating a pall of melancholy and the unmistakable echo of loss. It was distant and unseen, something that left those who passed through with a sense of unease, of sorrow. The town Ryu came to had no such distance to its loss. It was clear and present.

The buildings had been shattered down to the last thatch hut. Every house and home was torn asunder, every public building smashed to its foundation. The signs of struggle were minimal, only the ever-present stench of blood soaking the ground. Claw marks rent into the sides of the ruined structures were the only evidence of who the perpetrators had been. Even without definitive proof, Bo could smell the demon presence in the village. Curiousity overriding caution, Ryu had proceeded into the ruins. If there were survivors, he had to help them. As carefully as he could, he had crept into the San d’Orian town. It had not been careful enough.

What really surprised him were not so much the demons still lurking in the town, but that they were actively searching through it when they spotted him. One moment Ryu had been scouring the darkened streets for some sign of life, the next a howl rang out and a dozen pairs of glowing eyes cut through the night. The option to fight was a fool’s choice. Just as quickly as they began running towards him, Ryu bounded off with all the strength in his legs in the other direction.

Now it seemed he had run all night. He was no closer to losing them than he had been an hour ago, or an hour before that. The demons were relentless, and they called out for his blood. He had no flight left in him. Not even panic was strong enough to drive him forward another step. One of the many peaks of La Theine rose up in front of him. In the distance, he could see the spires of the Crag of Holla reaching skyward. The plateau was a place of vast natural wonder and beauty for those who took the time to appreciate it. The thought came to him that if he failed in his mission, there would never be anyone to left to marvel at nature’s beauty ever again. His brow knit in concentration. A plan communicated itself to Bo even as it formed in his own mind. The distance between himself and the rock wall in front of him closed in an instant.

He soared up the cliff wall, leaping backwards as the Mezraq came into his hands. Legs carried him straight up, and at the apex of his ascent pushed him back off again. He spun the weapon at a blinding pace, and the demons leaped out of his way as the Dragoon came crashing to the ground. Bo streaked in front of him, flame bursting from his mouth. A wall of fire erupted around Ryu, holding the demons at bay. The flames dyed Ryu’s burnished armor red and orange as he let his spear rest in the flames, heating the metal like a smith would iron at the forge. The thought brought a memory of his linkshell to him. He wondered if Forge the Galka was alive somewhere, fighting against demons the same as he. Howls from his adversaries brought him back to the present. He bared his teeth at the ring of demons circling him. This would be no easy task.

What he also failed to take into account was just how badly the demons wanted to kill him. It was badly enough that they were willing to throw themselves into dragon’s fire to reach their quarry.

In an instant, they were upon him. Claws and fangs tore at his armor. They fought one another in their effort to get to him. The back of his head was jarred against the earth, and Bo screamed out fruitlessly as it attempted to free him. The demons swarmed over him mercilessly, rending and tearing. He vainly raised his arm, trying to get the Mezraq up in defense, but the weight of the demons was too much. One of them brutally smashed its clenched fist into the side of his head, and his senses left him. The next thing he knew, he felt like he was falling, endless darkness all around him, and then, nothing.


There was water dripping across his face. That was the first sensation that tugged Ryu back into the world of consciousness. Bo’s reptilian face was peering over his, fear in his liquid eyes. Ryu tried to call out his name, but a wave of naseau swept over him. He couldn’t focus properly on anything. The drops of water pelting him at a steady rhythm were all that was keeping him from drifting off once again. His body felt like lead. The idea of moving was enough to bring darkness into the edges of his vision once more.

Bo suddenly hissed, whipping his neck around to face something Ryu could not see. If there were a monster of some kind, or more demons, the Dragoon knew they were done for. He raised his head with all the effort he could muster, trying to make sense of Bo’s warnings. In the confusion of his own thoughts, however, he could scarce make out those of his ally.

The wyvern’s head lashed out, biting at something unseen. Ryu heard a startled cry, and was surprised enough by it that he somehow found the strength to roll onto his side. Standing but a foot away from him, garbed in simple spun robes and shoes, was a hulking Galka. Despite the threatening wyvern hovering around him, the Galka’s expression was stoic. Unnervingly stoic, Ryu felt, almost to the point of being empty altogether.

“Welcome,” the Galka intoned. “Please, come with me, if you have found your strength.”

“Who are you?” he asked suspiciously, pushing himself away from the Galka. The question visibly surprised him, and he stood up while eyeing the Dragoon nervously.

“Well?” Ryu pressed. “Is it that hard a question?”

“It has . . . “ he chose his words with care, “it has been a long time since questions were asked by any in this place. Forgive me.”

“What are you talking about? Where is “this place?”

The Galka did not respond. Bo’s neck arced around from behind Ryu, teeth bared at the stranger.

“I am Aboroth,” he said, folding his arms into the sleeves of his robes. “The master has requested an audience with you in the throne room. Please accompany me.”

Ryu and Bo exchanged a glance. All around them there was nothing but inescapable rock wall. The Galka stood before he only path leading out in any direction. Their options were clearly limited.

The path they took descended noticeably, and the Galka, whom Ryu perceived to be a Monk of some kind, led them ever downwards. The rocky decline spiraled towards an open cavern far below. As they neared, Ryu’s ears picked up a sound of rock being chipped away at. The closer they came to the bottom of the winding path, the louder and more cacophonous it became. They cleared the final bend, and Ryu nearly lost his balance at what he saw. For a moment he was sure whatever injuries he had were causing him to hallucinate. How was he even walking? Wasn’t he on his back, unable to lift his own head just minutes earlier? Surely he was still there, he thought. This was some fevered dream.

There were hundreds of people in the cavernous expanse. There were men and women, children and the elderly. By and large they were Elvaan, with some smattering of Hume and Mithra. Some wore the simple clothes of farmers, others dressed as woodsmen or miners. Mixed amongst them were a large number of men wearing what was unmistakably the uniform of a San d’Orian Royal Knight. They bore no armament, however, only pickaxes and carts. The entire body of people was concentrated in one mass effort to mine the depths of the caverns in which they toiled. The men hammered away ceaselessly at the giant rock walls, the rocks they unearthed being carted away by those not strong enough to swing a heavy pickaxe. Ryu’s eyes, beginning to sharpen again with the strength the Wyrmking had gifted them with, could make out the beginnings of defining features appearing in the wall. They were not mining, he realized. They were carving something, some enormous effigy which would be birthed from the cavern itself.

Ryu could also make out the expression on the faces of those engaged in the ceaseless labor. From the slender Hume maiden lifting rocks from the ground and pushing them up into the carts to the silver-haired Elvaan bearing the sigil of the San d”Orian army, not a single one had a glimmer of life in their eyes. They worked mechanically, without word or pause, the sound of rock breaking against steel a never-ending chorus of their effort. The sight chilled Ryu in a way he could not describe. Bo sensed it too, perhaps even more acutely, and through the bond Ryu could feel his unease at being where they were. Something about this entire scenario was very, very wrong.

“What are they doing?” Ryu asked Aboroth, and again the Monk looked surprised at being asked something outright. He recovered much faster this time, however.

“They are doing what they must,” Aboroth told him, not even turning to regard the workers. “Please do not fall behind. We are nearly to the throne room.”

Aboroth stepped through the end of the winding corridor, and Ryu paused to take in what he saw on the other side. His feelings of confusion, awe, and revulsion translated themselves through to Bo in a way that made the wyvern snort and shake its head, trying to process the human feelings. Looking at what the Galka had described as the throne room, Ryu had trouble processing his own thoughts.

Atop a throne roughly hewn from the granite wall itself, a Tarutaru sat idly. His lips smacked as he crunched down on some enormous fruit he held, big enough that he held it in both hands. His white robes were stained with its juices, and a ring of rind and pulp surrounded his lips. He flicked a dark eye disinterestedly at Ryu’s approach as Aboroth gave a deep bow, side-stepping away from the diminutive king of the underground world. At his feet were no less than six women, none of whom appeared older than eighteen, in various degrees of undress, some holding food for their leader, others simply lying at his feet. The dead looks in each of their eyes was frightening.

All except two, and it was a difference Ryu picked up on right away. Sitting slightly further away from the others was a woman in white silk, her gown held tightly against her slim figure. A short crop of brown hair fell just past the Hume girl’s eyes, which held an obvious spark of wariness and, Ryu thought, warning. She appeared younger than the rest, but it was clear whatever happened to them had not yet taken hold of this girl. The Dragoon made a note of it as his eyes shifted to the other woman by the throne that seemed to still hold life within her. She was the only one standing.

A violent green cloak hid most of her features, but it was clearly a Mithra behind the hood. Fangs showed in her smile as Ryu approached, halting at what he judged to be a safe distance. The Mithra leaned in closely, whispering something in the Tarutaru’s ear. He listened, no interest showing in his face, and then waved his hand dismissively. With a belch, he tossed the half-eaten fruit in his hands aside. It rolled to the ground, its juices sloshing across the stone, and with disgust Ryu realized it was rotting even as he looked at it. He shuddered at the realization that the Tarutaru had been eating the fruit of the Marlboro.

“So,” the Tarutaru let out, leaning back in his deep throne, “You are here now.”

It was hardly what Ryu had been expecting. “Were you . . . waiting for me?” he asked, not knowing what to think.

The Tarutaru gave a short, barking laugh, and then sucked the juice from his fingers. “I’m aware of everyone who comes here. It is my custom to greet them personally. Did you see the great works I have accomplished?”

That last sentence at least made some sense to Ryu. “You’ve been keeping those villagers, and those San d’Orian knights, you’ve kept them safe, right? Is that what you’re doing?”

A slow smile crept over the Tarutaru’s face. With a wave of his hand, one of the girls at his feet held up the food in her hands. He plucked some away greedily, popping a grape into his mouth and sucking it down. The Mithra by his side whispered something to him again, and he nodded. Ryu had a very bad feeling about what was transpiring in front of him. Bo lay crouched at the ground by his feet, wings pressed against his back and teeth bared. He was not alone in his unease. He noticed the brown-haired girl at the edge of the dais now watching him with intense hazel eyes. Something was clearly happening.

“Aboroth,” the Tarutaru called out, and the Galka came forward to meet the call. “Show our newest guest and his pet to their room. Let them regain their strength before we further discuss their situation.” The last word struck Ryu like a blow. He opened his mouth to protest, but something stopped him. It felt like it came through the bond, but somehow he knew it was not. He looked down at Bo, but the wyvern had not taken its eyes off of the Tarutaru, a soundless snarl coming from its azure lips. That reaction alone was enough to let Ryu know he was not safe here.

“Come,” Aboroth told him, gesturing towards the way they had come. He wanted to speak out, but something told him not to. It didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t quite shake it off. The Tarutaru looked at him with a glimmer of interest, and the Mithra continued smiling behind her hood. Nodding his head towards the both of them, Ryu turned to follow the red-robed Galka. Nothing was right here.

They were quite a ways away from the throne room when he finally found his voice again. All at once, he could suddenly speak what was on his mind. He did not speak right away, still trying to absorb all he had seen. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of the endless toil in the caverns around him. Aboroth only moved on unerringly, guiding Ryu towards the chambers promised to him.

“Where am I?” Ryu asked, following Aboroth down the tunnels they had been directed towards. “And who is that man on the throne?”

The Galka gave a chilling look over his shoulder as he regarded the Dragoon. He paused only momentarily, and then resumed marching forward over rock and stone, guiding Ryu towards his designated chamber.

“You are in hell,” Aboroth uttered mournfully, “and he is the Devul.”