Tom Lloyd - The ragged man

At last they arrived at the crossroad where the burning wheel hung up above. Mihn started to press on, ignoring the tortured soul, but he was dragged to a halt by Isak, who stopped suddenly and stared directly up at the shrieking figure, the first time he had properly engaged with his surroundings since the chains had been dragged from his body.

Mihn felt the bile rise in his throat at the cruelties that must have been inflicted on Isak to produce so many scars. The only part of his body untouched was the rune burned into his chest; otherwise the torturer had been indiscriminate. His nipples, genitals and lips all bore signs of vicious abuse, his teeth were twisted and broken, his finger- and toenails torn out. The wider expanses of flesh were carved with a jagged script, one Mihn had never seen before, and scars caused by the spiked chains that had bound his body overlaid everything else like bloody shadows.

'Come,' Mihn said softly, urging Isak to keep moving.

Now the white-eye needed little encouragement. His eyes started to focus and his mouth was part-open, as though on the point of a sob that never came. As his great limbs started to shake Mihn tightened his grip on his lord.

Escaping the gate itself proved easier than he had expected. The chained beasts might not have been able to see Eolis, but they could sense the power of the sword and as they instinctively backed away, the gate started to lift. Mihn walked Isak carefully between the beasts, quickening his pace to clear the gate as they retreated again, pulling the gate shut behind them.

But there was no time for Mihn to pause and congratulate himself. From the steps of the Mercy's silver pavilion Mihn could see daemons of all sizes lining the three gates, staring after them with unreserved hatred. A flash of lightning raced across the gates and Xeliath appeared for a second or two, standing halfway between the gates and the pavilion.

She was dressed for battle in glittering crystal armour, and as she surveyed the arrayed armies of the Dark Place she gave a short laugh and spat in the dirt at her feet. The daemons began to clamour and howl furiously, beating at the ivory gates and stamping their feet so hard Mihn felt the ground shaking.

'Fuck all of you!' she yelled, directing an obscene gesture towards the largest of the daemons with her left hand, the one that had a Crystal Skull fused to the palm in the real world.

The cacophony increased tenfold, but the Yeetatchen white-eye turned her back and vanished into the darkness. Mihn didn't wait to see what response this elicited but hurried to the river, where flames were lapping against the bank. Instantly the boatman appeared before him, veiled and silent.

'Bear us across,' Mihn commanded.

'Each must pay with a soul. Will you give your own?' the boatman asked in a deep, inhuman voice.

Mihn reached into the neck of his tunic, pulled out the two silver coins strung on a chain and held it out to the boatman.

'I offer two souls.'

The association of souls with silver coins in Ghenna had come from the practice of laying the dead out with a silver coin in their mouth to draw up part of the soul. Daima had assured Mihn that the two men these coins belonged to were already in Ghenna; they would leave the question of ownership to the boatman and whichever daemon held them.

The boatman stared at Mihn for a while, then at Isak. At last it snatched the chain from Mihn's hand and drew the skiff up to the bank, stepping back to make room. Mihn helped Isak in first, making him kneel for safety before stepping swiftly into the remaining space himself. His caution was well justified as the boatman pushed off the moment one foot had touched the seat; only his superb balance and a firm grip on Isak's shoulder stopped Mihn from pitching over backwards into the fiery river.

The boatman laughed loudly as Mihn crouched at his feet but he poled the barge around and to the other bank with a dozen languid strokes. As soon as they touched land Mihn leapt out and dragged Isak with him. They set off up the short path to Ghain's summit, enduring the boatman's callous laughter until it faded on the wind.

With every step Mihn found himself weakening, the strength seeping out of his muscles as he gradually submitted to the terror inside him. Freed of his chains, Isak had regained a measure of his former strength and at the summit it was he who drove the pair over it. Though he had not spoken, nor really registered Mihn's presence, the white-eye survival instinct was a force in itself.

Once over the crest, Mihn dragged Isak to a halt. He leaned on the larger man and forced himself to stand upright as he gasped for breath. His hands were shaking, with fear and fatigue. The air was thin up there and it took a minute or more before his heart slowed its frantic beat and his lungs stopped aching. Isak stood motionless beside him, looking down on the desolate slopes of Ghain. He said nothing; Mihn couldn't tell if the white-eye even saw the empty miles ahead of them. Only the occasional spasm running through his body made Isak look more than a reanimated corpse, but Mihn had hardly expected cheerfulness or laughter.

I walked into the Dark Place and I lived, Mihn thought, using his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his face. He looked back. There was no daemonic army pursuing them; not even the boatman was visible, but he didn't want to wait around. A daemon-prince might fear Xeliath's Crystal Skull as much as the rest of its kind, but it wouldn't be afraid to send others in its stead.

'Come, my lord,' he said with a sigh, forcing his legs to take the first few steps down the empty slope. 'We are not home yet.'

The journey downslope was far easier than the ascent, and the further they got from the gates of Ghenna the faster they moved, ignoring the dead landscape around them The silver pavilions were empty, though Mihn thought he could sense some presence in the air that he assumed was the Mercies. Isak, feeling it too, lowered his head and tightened his grip on Mihn's arm, but they passed freely, finding themselves a step closer to the Land. Ghain itself appeared abandoned, for they walked a different path to that of the dead, and if there was pursuit, it was far enough behind to leave no trace.

They stopped once, after all of the pavilions were behind them, when Isak began to huff and whimper like a frightened dog. He kept his head down, staring blindly at the ground, but a swirl of wind wrapped around them and he looked increasingly pained and fearful.

Mihn hauled him onward, until he saw the reason for Isak's terror and dread descended over him too: there, on the horizon, stood the vast black doors of Death's chamber, set in a huge, weathered stone frame attached to nothing. A great darkness hung above it, black as pitch.

What if I open that door and there is nothing but Ghain's wilderness on the other side? He shook the thought from his head and upped their pace, his own sheer determination overriding Isak's shaking reluctance. As he neared the gate Mihn saw the darkness above it start to shift and a loud clanking of chains rolled out across Ghain like discordant temple bells.

'Now would be a good time,' Mihn muttered under his breath, 'assuming you aren't too tired after insulting every daemon in existence.'

A clap of thunder came as response and Xeliath flashed into existence, appearing at their side and walking in perfect time, as though she had been with them the whole journey.

'They needed a reminder of how things are,' Xeliath commented lightly, spinning an ivory glaive in her hand before letting the weapon rest upon her shoulder.

Mihn looked at her. The chestnut-skinned girl was as heartstoppingly beautiful as when she'd spoken to him in his dreams. The visor on her crystal helm was raised enough for Mihn to see a contented little smile on her face.