Apostles of Doom

“We are through, sir. We have cleared the Abyssal Gateway!” Mister Cerenkov stated.

“What’s our status? Are we detecting any enemy combatants?” the captain barked.

“Negative. No sign of life, nor animus, on my sensors,” XO Stevensword responded.

“Sorcery detects nothing,” Helferth, the chief sorcery officer reported.

“Do a full sweep on the main viewing mirror,” the captain ordered. One of the crew adjusted some dials and the mirror began panning around them.

What a depressing landscape! Barabus thought to himself. The Abyss, at least where they were at in it, was a giant rust-colored desert. From what he could see at this altitude, it appeared to have very rugged and arid terrain. Large plateaus were intermixed with giant chasms and ravines, and some insanely tall and relatively thin pillars reaching into the sky.

Barabus frowned. Those relatively spindly pillars seemed to defy every law of geomancy that he knew of. Admittedly, as a soldier, his knowledge of the subject was cursory, but gut-level common sense told him that this place did not obey any normal rules.

He suddenly noticed that at lower altitude, there were brief bursts of light every so often in random locations. Some were so far away as to be sparkles.

“Sorcery, what are those lights?” the captain asked.

“Hmm… ” Helferth was studying a crystal ball. “They appear to be spontaneously erupting balls of fire and/or plasma.”

“Plasma?” Heron asked.

“Super-heated gas with a very large electrical charge,” Chancellor Alighieri replied. “Essentially the epitome of elemental Fire.”

Barabus blinked and looked askance at the chancellor. That was the second time he’d answered in a reasonable manner. Clearly, this place was disturbing him as well. Is that sweat on the man’s brow? If so, is it a good thing or a bad thing? Barabus wondered nervously to himself.

“All systems within acceptable limits, Captain,” XO Stevensword said.

“Internal air temperatures and pressures are as expected,” the chief enchantment officer reported. “External temperature at this altitude is approximately one half vapor point.” He paused for a moment. “Atmospheric pressure is roughly that of sea level.”

“At six leagues?” Heron asked. “That is not right.”

“That is what I am detecting,” Xerxes, the CEO, replied.

“This place does not seem to obey the normal rules of physics,” Barabus noted.

“A known problem on some planes,” the chancellor said. “We’ve tried to account for every possibility. So far, so good.”

“Hmm.” Barabus nodded. He now understood the sweat on the man’s brow.

“Very well. Close the gateway,” the captain ordered.

“Aye-aye, Captain!” Mr. Moorcock replied.

Within a few moments, Barabus felt a strange sensation of queasiness, an anxious nausea in the pit of his stomach. He breathed in and out, trying to ease this sudden anxiety attack.

“Portal closed. We are now firmly in the Abyss!” Mr. Moorcock shouted.

“Excellent!” the captain said, rotating in his chair to face Heron, the chancellor and Barabus. “Welcome to the Abyss, gentlemen!”

Barabus started to smile tentatively, even as he distantly heard a number of wails coming from various passageways leading to other parts of the ship. Multiple individuals were crying and shouting. It took him a moment to make out what they were saying.

“Tiernon! Tiernon, Lord! Why hast thou forsaken me?” Barabus made out one of the voices speaking.

“I can’t feel Saint Roderick’s presence!”

“Saint Hilda preserve us!”

“Almighty Tiernon! Where is your protection?”

“Forgive us for what we’ve done! Lord, do not abandon your servants!”

Barabus felt his blood curdling in his veins as deep-seated fear took hold of his stomach.

“Damn. I was afraid of something like this,” Chancellor Alighieri said in a slightly higher octave than normal.

Yes, the man was definitely sweating, Barabus noted.

Chapter 125

Oubliette

“In 41,972 MDT, we implemented the Orion protocol for all new entrants,” Phaestus said. “The Orion protocol is still the prisoner intake protocol in use today — or rather, the last time we had a new prisoner.”

“Although we did have a revision to it in 46,032,” Arg-nargoloth added.

“True,” Phaestus said, nodding, “and again in 48,344. Generally, whenever we have issues with an intake.”

Tom was hoping these dates would not be on a test. He had thought he had escaped going to school and taking tests when he was forcefully relocated to the Abyss. However, that was not the case with Tartarus. Who would have thought that Demonic Overlords had to worry about grades? Tom shook his head, smiling at the thought before noticing that Tizzy was making some very odd faces. Talk about being back in school!

The octopod was wrinkling his nose and making spitting motions with his mouth. It was, in fact, a series of severely disquieting grimaces.