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?
Chapter Three
“… to the land of deepest night, of deep shadow and disorder, where even the light is like darkness."
Sam 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 naive 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.
Some indeterminate time later, Sam reached the bottom. He was sweating and his fingers were torn and bleeding, but he’d made it. It hadn’t been the easiest of climbs — the rock was treacherous and kept crumbling away even after he’d tested it, but here he was. He had also discovered something interesting during the descent. The sharp, volcanic rock here in Hell had the ability to pierce his skin — something that would have been impossible on Earth. At first, he’d thought that the rock must have contained a high content of iron but that made no sense. He certainly couldn’t sense or smell iron, which he often could. Also, all demons were extremely sensitive to iron. Why would Satan create a place that was filled with it? It might have been a cruel little joke, something that his father would find amusing but it would also serve to continuously antagonize his followers. Not to mention that it would probably inconvenience Satan himself.