Into the Abyss

As he opened the door, Jehenna looked up from the table at which she was working. The room was of medium size, designed primarily for the construction of implements of magic. The room was equipped with a small forge, with ventilation, anvils, engraving tools, jewelry tools and many other more esoteric tools. The table at which she was working was filled with engraving tools, and small vials containing powdered jewels.

“I’m almost finished. I’ve decided to make the talisman a ring. Mainly, of course, for the benefit of the strength inherent in the Neverending Loop of Confinement, which the ring so easily represents.”

“Good choice,” approved Lenamare. “I take it you’ve inscribed the standard bindings for combat manipulation of a fourth order demon?”

“Of course, I used Pertwinge’s Annulment of the Devious Destructive Demon, as well as Ekelios’ Ectonic Shielding. Not to mention attuning it to the Kristel’s Fourth Order Binding that I did yesterday.”

“Good, you’ve inscribed the ring?”

“Yes, as you can see for yourself,” she handed him the ring. “I admit, I did a rush job on the talisman, but it is perfect. It will allow any of us to command the demon with a minimum of effort during the battle.”

He read the inside of the ring where the demon’s name was inscribed, “Tomasedwardperkinje, fine. Odd name for a demon, but then they all are.”

“Who did you want to help us in sealing the demon? Trisfelt?”

“No, I felt he was a bit weak, when we first bound the demon, let’s use Master Hortwell. Elrose is busy planning the positioning of the other demons, and ensuring that they’re ready.

“Hortwell is in the dungeon with some of the students, I believe they will need a few hours to manage the inspection of the wards. I’ll send a messenger to Hortwell asking him to meet us in the same conjuring room we used last time, right after the evening meal?”

“Fine, I’ll be done.”

“Good enough,” and Lenamare left the room.

Chapter 9

Tom slowly came to. What a nightmare he thought, I’ll never smoke grass again. He kept his eyes tightly closed, he could feel the rocky ground around him in Reggie’s back yard, where he must have fallen while stoned. “Helloooo,” a voice shouted at him, “I can see you’re awake now, your wings moved.”

Oh shit, it’s not a dream, or it’s still going. Tom recognized Tizzy’s voice behind and above him. Slowly he opened his eyes. In front of him he could see his red, snout-like, nose and beyond that, the rocky Martian like surface of the demon plain, or was that plane? Tom thought weakly. He moaned as he tried to sit up, his muscles protested. They were still sore, but they didn’t ache like they had. “Aah,” he said as he accidentally sat on his tail, bending it the wrong way. He stood up, since as he now recalled, sitting was rather difficult.

“Slept like a bat you did,” Tizzy said. “’Cept, of course, you wasn’t hanging from your feet.” Tizzy’s voice was still distinct but a bit less shrill now, more grizzled. Did the demon have some sort of multiple-personality disorder? One could easily be excused for going crazy in this place.

Tom looked around; the desert seemed to stretch forever. Behind him was the pillar from which he fell, towering ungodly high and incredibly thin. Surely those pillars violate some law of physics? Tom thought to himself. In the distance to his right and before him was a range of mountains, apparently where he was supposed to be going. He searched for Boggy, but couldn’t see the little demon anywhere.

Seeing him looking around, Tizzy said, “Boggy got called away, he’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Called away?” Tom inquired.

“Yeah, you know, summoned, conjured, etcetera, went to see his favorite accursed master.” He waved his pipe; smoke was coming out of the bowl, apparently, he’d been smoking while Tom was sleeping.

“Right, I should have guessed.” Tom reluctantly began to remember all the things Boggy had told him. Eternal slavery, pain-dominated servitude, lifelong misery. What a thought to wake up to and to look forward to, thought Tom.

“Well, ready to fly again?”

“No. I think I’ll walk.”

“Take too long, and besides you’ll never be able to cross the Styx.”

“The Styx? As in river to the underworld, with the boat keeper?”

“You’ve heard of it? Yep. Favorite transportation of mortals, or at least dead mortals, through the Abyss. Travels the entire plane. And a major bitch to cross if you don’t fly.”

“I don’t know. Last time was not fun.” Tom looked down at the two holes in the ground nearby, where his legs had implanted themselves. “Besides, I really should eat something first.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No...” Tom said, realizing it was true. He hadn’t eaten anything in ages, and he’d been through a lot, but he was not hungry in the slightest.

“Then why eat?”

“I don’t know. Habit I guess.”