The Nether (Solo)

[Cyrus the virus]

Time didn’t seem to move in the Nether. Life and death did not exist, only an eternal existence for those who dwelt within. Fyshrie, the green skinned, muscled demon, had slashed a serious of deep wounds into Luc’s side before they had struck their bargain, and it would not heal, did not infect. It only burned constantly. The bleeding never slowed, but blood pumped out constantly.

If ever there was a better definition of hell, Luc would have been amused to hear it. In constant, paralyzing pain, the mage was already wishing he was dead – and it had been only a few hours. If he dared kill himself, though, he’d be stuck with the pain for eternity, as his soul would be unable to leave his body. It made the idea of living in a realm of demons all the more frightening, especially considering his magic was limited by the lack of earth and water.

Fyshrie stood near him, curving horns topping his bald little head. Their bargain was simple – the demon would let Luc live if the mage could take him from this dimension, a fear Luc had never considered until he was on the brink of being devoured bit by bit. Even now he could see the hungry lust in the demon’s blood red eyes. Were he revitalized it would not be an issue. As of now, he was exhausted and lacking even a bit of magical power.

So much had happened in the past few days. Venerus the wizard had fallen, risen again, and sent a dragon to attack Radasanth. With power Luc could hardly fathom, the wizard had brought Suravani’s Oasis to the Nether. Through a glyph that he found through hours of study, Luc was able to open a gate to the dimension of the damned, and here he, Edward Judorne and Venus/Delta had defeated Venerus’ true form. Attacked from behind by Fyshrie, whom Luc had demanded to take them through the Nether’s maze, Luc was trapped in the Nether with no escape.

Now it was up to him to find a way to get back to Althanas. With Fyshrie giving him no time to rest and no room to escape, Luc realized he needed to find the demon’s way back as well.

There were no libraries in the Nether, no spell components. Just the remains of a dimension long since void of life, ruled by an ancient dragon that even the Gods had been unable to kill. Escape seemed impossible – Luc was being resigned to a fate far worse than death.

“How long will you take, human? Fyshrie is not patient and that blood smells fresh.”

Luc shook his head, shuddered from a shock of pain, and calmed himself with a breath. “It will take time, I must search this realm. It could take a day or it could take weeks, or whatever passes for time here. But it will happen, and we will escape this misty hole.”

Fyshrie snorted. “Best be quick.”

The mage wanted to be. He wanted to escape the Nether as quickly as possible, and didn’t mind the idea of dragging Fyshrie with him, as long as the demon didn’t turn on him as soon as it smelled the clean air.

“Is there a way to repair my body?” he asked. “This wound limits me severely, and will slow us down.”

Fyshrie snorted louder. “Human will move fast or will be my meal.”

Luc noted cautiously the demon’s lack of answer.

[Cyrus the virus]

A scream broke the silence. Echoing throughout the realm of the Nether, it pierced Wyodyl’s ears and caused the demon to spin toward it. All he saw was mist, grey and thick, and no sign of any impending doom.

Sighing, the red, lean creature resumed his trek down the ominous road forward. Framed by high, black walls of adamantine, the misty ‘valley’ offered the final few hundred yards to the lair of Glimmerfang. Just thinking the dragon’s name made Wyodyl squirm and shake, but seeing the creature was a necessary evil.

Grey, leathery wings twitched on the demon’s back, then rose to flap and carry him up to avoid a series of blackened corpses. Wyodyl knew they were not dead, precisely. He wondered if Glimmerfang would do the same to him at some point in their strange relationship.

He heard the dragon’s breathing before he arrived in its presence. Around an adamantine corner, Wyodyl whirled and spotted the creature, bigger than a castle and more powerful than an army. No longer was it encased in adamantine with only its head free. The wand of the wizard, Sasarai, had freed the beast. It was a terrible occurrence for the inhabitants of the Nether.

Clad in massive, golden scales as hard as steel, the dragon’s body rose and fell with timely breaths. The demon approached cautiously, taking a minute to walk about the beast’s massive frame. He knew better than to think it was asleep.

“A group has formed. One hundred demons, some of them Balshuu. They intend to approach soon.” Wyodyl said in the demon tongue.

Glimmerfang’s breathing shifted and its eyes opened, exposing golden, slit eyes each double the size of the red demon. The vertical pupils stared at Wyodyl, showing him his own frightened reflection. The dragon said nothing, and the demon turned to make his way back the way he’d come.

When he was back in the grey valley, mist thick around him, Wyodyl finally allowed himself to exhale.

[Cyrus the virus]

Fyshrie and Luc’s interaction was short. Bullet-quick answers and equally fast responses were all the mage had at his disposal, which made it difficult to gain any kind of understanding of the Great Nether. Fyshrie’s answers were short as well, and seemed to be growing even shorter as the minutes went by. Luc could tell the demon was already growing impatient.

A sea of blood seemed to be constantly pumping out of Luc. He’d managed to remove his tunic and tie it awkwardly around his chest, but it wasn’t helping very much. He was afraid that soon, he would collapse and never rise again. Taking a deep breath, Luc tasted nothing but choking smoke.

All he could see was dark, thick mist and the charred ground beneath him, jagged with pebbles and rocks that had been there since the spawning of the Nether itself. As time went by, though, he saw light in the distance. Soon, as each agonizing step was taken, he began to hear the sounds of battle. They were approaching a great melee, an eternal struggle of demon, orc, goblinkin, humanoids and more.

Only when they reached the apex of an overlooking cliff did Luc get to see the source of the sounds. The mist seemed to part here, to grant the human and his demon master a visual unhindered by smog. Thousands, perhaps over a million tiny figures clashed atop a mountainous pile of inanimate bodies, laying unable to move but still feeling the pains of their death wounds. The clang of metal rung a hundred times in any given moment and echoed up to them. Luc could not discern sides, for there were none. This was not the battle of two armies, but a melee free-for-all.

“What are we doing here?” Luc asked breathlessly.

“Fyshrie wants you to see. This is hell, yes? But beyond,” he said, pointing to a cliff opposite theirs. Luc had to squint, but he could make out the outline. “Leads to community of people like you, humans, elf, dwarf. Perhaps they provide human mage with spell to learn.”

“That’s a good idea,” Luc said, mind racing about the possibilities of bringing his demon captor into a village of people on his side. “But how do we cross the gap?”

Fyshrie looked at Luc stupidly, the demon’s eyes bulging in anger. “You fly, I seen you! Take us across now, human!”

Luc couldn’t think of a way to deal with Fyshrie’s anger quickly enough. In a fit of rage, the demon forgot the possibility of escaping the Nether and let his hand fly. His fist, powerful enough to break stone, caught Luc square in the face and sent him off his feet, flying backward to the edge of the cliff. Fyshrie, like a child who realized he was about to break a priceless vase, sucked in his breath and retracted his limbs.

Luc, meanwhile, was out instantly, the hit breaking his jaw and nose. His lifeless body stopped at the ledge, an arm draped out over the open air. Slowly he slid, more and more, toward his doom. Finally he began to fall, but Fyshrie was there in time, diving for Luc’s foot and catching him at the ankle. Unaware of his strength, the demon’s claws dug deep into the mage’s flesh and tore at his skin.

With hardly an effort, the demon pulled Luc back onto the plateau and set him against the cold, jagged ground. “Hey!” Fyshrie yelled, but the mage didn’t react. Flustered, Fyshrie pulled the human off the ground and set the limp body on his shoulders.

“Oh no, oh no, human hurt! Need human alive,” he mumbled to himself. “Human town have healer, perhaps! Perhaps… Must try! See!”

With a great bound, Fyshrie leapt from the cliff. He plummeted for several seconds until he crashed, hard, until the ground. Barely buckling from the massive drop, the demon grunted and with powerful, long strides he made his way toward the melee. He would need to pass right through if he was to get to the other side.