This is the fifth chapter of Diabolical Ascension, the saga of Zeraga Baal'khal, the Doomfire. Discretion is advised due to graphic content.
The fourth chapter, Onto Darkened Paths, can be found here:
The first chapter, Awakening, can be found here: https://talesofvalorandwoe.wixsite.com/zeragabaalkhal/post/diabolical-ascension-i-awakening
Image credits (in order of appearance): Petr Joura
Baal-Kephor and Maraduamnaa traveled through a forlorn mountain pass; the surrounding monoliths of austere gray rock nearly blotted out a sky that was only a shade lighter. The sun was bleak and white, a crown of dead winter that did little to drive back the shadows.
“Are we almost there?” Baal-Kephor asked, nearly growling.
“Oh yes,” Maraduamnaa replied, “It should only be a little further now.” Truth be told, the glayruk had expected the spell of teleportation to bring her and her companion closer to their destination, much closer, but she knew better than to say anything about that to him, and using the power of Ag’graaza to travel to one’s destination was always a dangerous prospect at best.
Baal-Kephor snorted derisively as he flexed his grip on his sword and his inferno rifle. He was all but certain that the chance to catch Zeraga and Zamyyr had now been lost because of this jaunt to the mortal world of Argoron. Nine cycles had already passed since Baal-Kephor had sought out Maraduamnaa after being defeated by the Doomfire, again, and there was no telling how many more Fangs of Azazel had died during that time; Baal-Kephor would not have been surprised to learn that the whole legion had been mustered for the task he had originally been sent for. Still, Maraduamnaa had been adamant that the allies of hers who would have the best chance of defeating the Doomfire and his cohort were to be found here in the Mountains of Everflowing Silver.
Baal-Kephor would believe that when he saw it.
After about another hour, the pass steeply descended as it widened into a valley that was miles wide and went on until it vanished into the greater mountains beyond. Tracts of rust red sand covered much of the valley’s floor, and from the sand rose many clusters of ramshackle walls and buildings in a clashing panoply of different architectural styles, as though more than a dozen eras of time had been slammed together.
Baal-Kephor and Maraduamnaa slowed their pace as they continued forward; rocks slid past them with every step. Once they were about halfway down the slope, they stopped at the sound of more crunches from behind and turned around. Higher up on the slope stood a group of nine humanoid animals, larger than Maraduamnaa but smaller than Baal-Kephor. Four of the two-legged beasts were lions, and three were wolves; the remaining two were a red-haired ape and an albino leopard. All of their eyes gleamed with an eerie sense of primal awakening. They bore a range of weapons and armor that was as varied as the architecture below. Lamellar and chainmail were worn together, as were ringmail and embossed leather. In particular, the red-haired ape wore a battered iron helmet to which had been affixed a pair of bone horns, and he gripped a nodachi in his left hand. Bladed and blunted weapons of all shapes and sizes occupied the hands, shoulders, and belts of the other beasts.
“Lady Dua Mara,” the ape said, his voice low and rich, “your presence is a most pleasant surprise.” He genuflected before the glayruk; the other beasts followed suit.
Maraduamnaa smiled as she basked in the reverence. Clad in her shining orange feyrferreus scalemail, bedecked in an exotic and scintillating panoply of jewelry, and bearing her ashen-skull shield, she radiated power and regality. Her sickle-like sword of purple metal hung from the left side of her thick, ruby-encrusted belt, and the teeth upon the sword twitched excitedly. “You are too kind; I am but a humble emissary of Vo-Yek. I would, however, ask that you accompany my servant and I down into the Valley of Torrential Screams. We have business with Seth Zhar Ral.”
A flash of irritation surged through Baal-Kephor at having been referred to as a servant. And yet, he couldn’t deny it. He had made the pact with Maraduamnaa; he could feel its presence even now, an inky, tenebrous thing at the back of his mind. A sense of guilt congealed within him. Admitting failure to his legion certainly would have been catastrophic, but…
“Of course, Lady Dua Mara,” the red-haired ape said, “It would be our pleasure to accompany you; we were just returning from patrol.”
The nine two-legged beasts formed a roughly circular formation around Maraduamnaa and Baal-Kephor with the red-haired ape at the front. They all then proceeded down the slope and into the valley.
Who is Vo-Yek? Baal-Kephor asked, telepathically reaching out to Maraduamnaa as they walked.
He is the patron demon lord of the city of Ancra-Vo-Yek. Maraduamnaa, too, was learned in the art of telepathy; it was a necessity when one lived in the Thirteen Hells He is quite war-like even as far as demons go. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him; Arioch makes no secret of his hatred of Vo-Yek.
And is that why you chose him as your patron?
I never said that he was my patron, only that I am an emissary of his.
Are those not the same thing?
I will not elaborate any further on the topic.
Very well. Tell me of Seth Zhar Ral; is he the lord of Ancra-Vo-Yek?
He is the strongest of them, yes, and so I suppose he could be called the ruler of the city, as much as the city can be ruled.
Mild distaste emanated from Baal-Kephor. And you are certain that you have his support?
Of course I am. Maraduamnaa giggled salaciously. He quite enjoys my pleasures when I deign to let him partake.
A moment of silence passed before Baal-Kephor spoke again. Is he a beast… like them?
Oh please, don’t tell me you’re going to judge me when you are nearly a beast yourself. Half of you is covered in scales; you have big, leathery wings; and your face would give most mortals nightmares.
This trip had better be worth it.
You need not worry about anything in that regard.
The dilapidated, protean city of Ancra-Vo-Yek came grew larger and larger as the travelers can closer and closer. The front gate was a monolithic lattice of barbed iron bars with thick hinges on the left side. Extending from either side of the gate was a wall of bricks of many different shapes, sizes, and colors; perhaps the only quality the bricks had in common was that they were all thoroughly eroded. The walls themselves stretched for miles across the red sands. Beyond, the tops of the city’s buildings, as kaleidoscopic as the walls, formed a jaggedly undulating plane of weird angles.
The ape-beast walked up to the door, and it rasped and groaned as he pulled it open. “After you, Lady Dua Mara.” He gestured to the city within.
“You are much too kind.” Maraduamnaa fluttered her lashes and briefly averted her gaze. “Please, I desire for you and your companions to accompany my servant and I to the abode of Seth Zhar Ral, that I might speak of your great honor to him.”
The ape-beast puffed up his chest, and his gaze hardened with solemnity and reverence. “It shall be as you say, my lady. Let us make haste.”
You don’t expect that we will have to fight Seth Zhar Ral, do you? Baal-Kephor asked as he, Maraduamnaa and the nine two-legged beasts entered the city.
No, Maraduamnaa replied, but arriving with a retinue in tow will certainly deter him from entertaining any detrimental ideas.
I see. Baal-Kephor paused. These beasts that are with us… Are they demons?
In a manner of speaking, yes.
What do you mean? I don’t feel the presence of Ag’graaza intruding overly much on this place.
Isn’t that a good thing? Like I said, there is nothing you need to worry about. We are not in any danger.
Baal-Kephor gave no reply, instead turning his dour gaze upon the two-legged beasts; his eyes drifted between them. Though they walked upright like him and Maraduamnaa, they had jagged, loping gates, especially the three wolves, and they kept their clawed hands low to the ground as though they were forcing themselves not to walk on all-fours. Baal-Kephor’s gaze fell upon the leopard next, and for a moment, the two pairs of red eyes locked. Malevolent, predatory glee flashed across the albino beast’s face; Baal-Kephor felt as though the leopard were imagining what it would be like to feast upon his flesh. The devil maintained his austere façade but could not deny the unease writhing within him.
Rationally, he knew that he should not be feeling any unease at all. He had been to all Thirteen Hells of Nyrrakhâ and seen all the manners in which the valahiyan, the damned, were flayed and tortured and forced to labor in conditions that would surely kill a living mortal. Beast-men were nothing new to Baal-Kephor, either; his native Addaduros was home to both minotaurs and packs of humanoid hell hounds called yu’uvgûr that existed in a transitory state halfway between lower mortals and higher devils. Some of those packs had even served alongside the Fangs of Azazel under Baal-Kephor’s command.
And yet, as the devil continued to look upon the two-legged beasts that surrounded him now, he knew that they would gladly devour him given the chance, and there could be no doubt that far more than the merely animal lurked within them. Baal-Kephor’s finger caressed the trigger of his inferno rifle, taking some solace in the superheated deliverance it could provide.
Many, many more two-legged beasts were gathered in Ancra-Vo-Yek. There were packs and huddles and throngs moving upon roads that were little more than cracked and eroded slabs of stone forcing their way between riots of decrepit and lopsided buildings, all of varying shapes and sizes and cobbled together from whatever materials could be found or seized. There were also mortals within the morass, namely humans, orcs, ogres, and minotaurs. Their armor and weapons were undoubtedly trophies of war and themselves bore many gruesome mementos: severed heads and cracked skulls; bones of all different kinds; and tracts of flayed skin of all different shades and hues, gobbets of dried gore serving as their charnel jewels.
Ancra-Vo-Yek’s denizens dealt in arms and armor; precious gems and metals; drugs both harsh and sensual; and many more wares besides. The coffles of slaves throughout the city had males, females, and those in-between, and there were sickening contrasts between those who had been beautified and those who had been brutalized. The resultant heady cocktail of scents and stenches was something Baal-Kephor tried to ignore.
Maraduamnaa, however, was smiling as she surveyed the sights in the same manner as a mortal queen in her favorite garden enjoying roses that smelled not unlike some of the drugs and slaves being hawked. Welcome to Ancra-Vo-Yek. the glayruk said to Baal-Kephor, her voice flowing with suave condescension.
The devil made as much of an attempt to ignore the glayruk as he did the rest of Ancra-Vo-Yek. Even Domentior, the Fourth Hell of Nyrrakhâ, with its fetid bogs and swamps brimming with ripened rot and voracious orgies of cannibalism, was somehow less repugnant.
Maraduamnaa, Baal-Kephor, and their retinue arrived at another iron gate that was similar in size and build to Ancra-Vo-Yek’s main gate, and many skulls were chained to it. The gate was the only break in a wall that looked as though it had been raised from a singular slab of gnarled earth, bending round and round until it connected to the other side of the gate in a crude imitation of a predator serpent coiling around its prey. Beyond rose a stone fortress that appeared like a protean horror with its cavalcade of flying buttresses about the perimeter; great corbels carved in the form of demoniac faces; and stout parapets bristling with spikes. Crowning the fortress was an enormous iron head that, by itself, was twice as large as Baal-Kephor. The face looked like that of a gaunt, senescent man with a long, full beard, and his expression was a silent roar of hatred. A pair of antlers, appearing like twisted tree branches rendered in metal, sprouted from his forehead.
A chill ran down Baal-Kephor’s spine at the sight of the head; he recognized it as having originally been part of one of the titanic god-engines manufactured in Dis, the Third Hell of Nyrrakhâ.
The front gate began to shift and writhe as though the metal were being liquefied; a nondescript face with eyes like smoldering embers emerged. “Who comes before the fortress of Lord Seth Zhar Ral?” The voice was thunderous and resounding.
“Lady Dua Mara.” The glayruk stepped forward with her head held high and an imperious expression upon her face. “And she demands an audience.”
Saying nothing, the face melted back into the gate, its eyes leaving behind strands of smoke as they disappeared, and the gate then sank into the earth. Maraduamnaa, Baal-Kephor, and their retinue passed through the threshold, soon arriving at the iron double doors at the front of the fortress. Upon each door was an opulent engraving of a large dragon skull gripping a blood-red axe in its jaws below which were crimson patterns of lines and angles.
The doors opened soundlessly, seemingly without any catalyst at all, revealing a dome-like vestibule of jade. Onyx and gold patterned the floor, and many portraits hung from the walls, exquisitely depicting locations that Baal-Kephor had never before seen and was not even sure existed. A circular stone table styled in the same protean, demoniac fashion as the outside of the fortress sprouted from the center of the floor; upon it were arranged burnished golden platters bearing meats, cheeses, breads, and fruits, and there were also large, gem-encrusted urns from which rose tendrils of dark, purple-red steam.
A succubus stood next to the table. She was full and voluptuous; her lacy, nearly sheer purple dress clung to her form and concealed very little. Wavy pink hair flowed down from her head, brightly framing a face with pupilless black eyes, a delicate nose, and plump crimson lips. Bat-like wings that were as black as her eyes sprouted from her shoulders.
“Lord Seth Zhar Ral welcomes you to his humble demesne,” the she-demon said, “and asks that you enjoy the refreshments he offers while he finishes his present endeavors.”
“And how long will that be?” Maraduamnaa replied with an edge in her voice. Any mortal would have withered before her gaze. “Lady Dua Mara does not like to be kept waiting.”
The succubus’s tone turned saccharine. “Unfortunately, I cannot say. My lord was not expecting your visit, but he does know that you are here.”
Maraduamnaa’s expression did not change, and she did not give any response.
“If it pleases you, Lady Dua Mara,” the red-haired ape said, “my men and I would like to partake of the food and drink; it has been many hours since we last fed.”
The glayruk gestured apathetically toward the table and the succubus; the beasts were immediately advancing, predators falling upon their latest prey. They ate in a more civilized manner than Baal-Kephor had expected, gently picking at choice morsels from the table, eating bite by bite and washing it all down with sips of hot wine.
Does Seth Zhar Ral normally keep you waiting? Baal-Kephor asked, telepathically reaching out to Maraduamnaa.
No. the glayruk replied dryly. He is normally much more eager to see me.
Perhaps he has found another to satisfy his carnal desires?
Maraduamnaa laughed sardonically. That was already a given. Seth Zhar Ral has never had a shortage of whores who will bend themselves into whatever position he desires.
If I didn’t know better, I would almost say that you are jealous.
Not jealous. Maraduamnaa gave a dismissive grunt. Impatient. You were the one who didn’t want to come here in the first place; the longer we have to wait, the more time Zeraga has to evade us.
True, but now that I’ve had a chance to see what kind of aid you’re actually offering, I’m starting to think that it might be better if we confronted Zeraga outside of the Thirteen Hells. Perhaps if there was a way we could arrange for him to be on the Forsaken Slaughterfields of Tartarus, or even Gaar’izok’no-lok…
Plausible deniability was never part of our deal. Besides, if we are able to deal with Zeraga while he remains in Addaduros, we will be well positioned to attack Azazel afterward, and then you’ll be an archdevil. That is still what you want, isn’t it?
Baal-Kephor gave no reply. He already knew the plan well, had replayed it dozens of times in his head since arriving in Argoron, and still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in over his head, that he had sealed his fate not only by making the pact with Maraduamnaa but furthermore by stepping through the portal she had opened only a few hours after the consummation. Had he acted too rashly? It didn’t matter now; the die had already been cast.
An hour that felt like an eternity passed before the succubus said that Lord Seth Zhar Ral was finally ready to see Maraduamnaa, Baal-Kephor, and their retinue. A large red door with two columns of three panels then appeared at the center of the vestibule’s back wall. Everyone walked toward it as it soundlessly opened.
Beyond was a trapezoidal room not much larger than the vestibule; the shortest wall was the one through which the succubus accompanied the eleven new arrivals. Crucified corpses, mostly humanoid, covered the overwhelming majority of the two side walls while large, bestial, and altogether more demoniac corpses were staked upon the back wall, the largest of the room’s walls in both height and width. A large, stout throne of vibrant blue stone was set against the bottom center portion of the back wall; upon it sat he who could only be Seth Zhar Ral, Lord of Ancra-Vo-Yek.
He was a hulking man clad in iron full plate and a half-tabard of chainmail. No helmet covered his head, and he wore his crimson hair in a topknot through which was woven a panoply of skulls. The crusts of darkened scars running across his tanned face told tales of many savage battles. A trio of tiny, claw-like horns curled out from the left part of his forehead; his eyes were dark and brooding; his mouth was fixed into a scowl. His right hand was sheathed in a gauntlet while his left was enlarged well beyond mortal proportion; the bright red star of chaos upon the palm of the hand, pulsing with a mixture of blood and sorcery, was wider than his head. Each of the fingers upon his left hand ended in a claw that resembled his horns.
Next to Seth Zhar Ral and his throne stood three succubi clad in varying shades of purple silk garments that left their chests bare. The pair of towering, heavily armored ogre huscarls standing next to the throne, their skin burnt red from the demonic blood that flowed through them, were monoliths of flesh, metal, and barely-chained aggression.
“Lady Dua Mara.” Seth Zhar Ral tilted his head and gave a rakish grin. “It is truly a pleasure to have an audience with you again. I see also that you brought a companion, as well as some of my own soldiers.”
Maraduamnaa returned the grin. “Your soldiers so graciously accompanied my servant and I here, ensuring that no harm came to us during the journey.”
“I see. So, what is it that brings you here?”
“The four hundred and twenty-eighth incarnation of Zeraga Baal’khal has made himself known. I would see him dead.”
“Interesting… I did not realize that you had a quarrel with the Doomfire.”
“He’s been a thorn in my side as of late.”
“I see.”
“I will most certainly make it worth your while to help me. Besides,” –Maraduamnaa gestured to the beasts— “I have already found some eager recruits.”
“But, they are ultimately not yours to command. Just because we have had alliances in the past does not mean that I will agree to another one.”
“You would deny an emissary of your patron and another opportunity for glory?” Maraduamnaa’s voice was at once velvet-like and razor-sharp.
“I said no such thing. I first want to know what you will give me in exchange for my aid.”
“Would an inferno weapon be enough?”
Indignance reared up within Baal-Kephor. You cannot seriously be offering to give one of the most powerful weapons in the Thirteen Hells to a servant of chaos.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
“I would be lying if I said that wasn’t a good offer, but I presume also that you are not offering me the weapon of your servant.”
“No,” Maraduamnaa replied, “but you already know my ability to produce the things I promise.”
“Yes, yes…” Seth Zhar Ral’s voice trailed off into pensiveness.
A moment of silence passed before the barbarian lord spoke again. “I will take you up on your offer, but seeing as how you are not going to give me that which is already before us, I will require something else as well.”
“I will give it my consideration.”
“Recently, I have been made aware of a golem deeper within these mountains that was sculpted in the exact image of the Doomfire. It is located in the ruins of a city that was once populated by an alliance of men and frost giants. Yet, whenever I send my soldiers to retrieve the golem, they come back with only empty hands and broken minds. They cannot even describe what they saw; anything more than nonsensical fragments is beyond them. That, by the way, was why I was not able to see you and your servant immediately. I was conferring with my council to determine how to proceed.
“Now, however, I propose a deal: you, your servant, and my beasts who are with you now bring the simulacrum of the Doomfire back to my throne room, and I will gladly lend my forces to the cause of slaying the four hundred and twenty-eighth incarnation. Once the Doomfire is dead, then you will provide the promised inferno weapon.”
“And what if we, too, should fall victim to the insanity of which you speak?” Maraduamnaa replied.
Seth Zhar Ral chuckled. “I’ll admit that I do not expect the beasts to come back, but you and your devil are surely possessed of stronger will, and you are a capable sorceress besides. Speaking of which, why is an emissary of Vo-Yek keeping company with a devil?”
“He has turned his back on his kind and follows his own path now.”
Seth Zhar Ral chuckled. “Just as the fallen angels turned their backs on Xa. Fate works in strange ways sometimes, eh?”
“You make gests about things that happened before even your great-grandfather was born.”
“And?” Seth Zhar Ral’s eyes gleamed with malevolent humor. “Do you accept my deal or not?”
Silence dominated the room as Maraduamnaa pondered the decision.
Baal-Kephor’s heart was pounding. Are you sure that we should take this on? Aren’t there other mortals on other worlds who will aid our cause much more easily?
Oh yes. Maraduamnaa replied. However, I was also not wrong in thinking that Seth Zhar Ral would be able to provide the best aid. The chance to use Zeraga Baal’khal against himself will not come again.
But it is only a replica.
A powerful one. You heard all of the same things I did.
Yes, yes. Baal-Kephor dropped the topic; Maraduamnaa had already made up her mind, and there would be no arguing with her.
Aloud, the glayruk said, “Very well. I accept. Where are the ruins of which you have spoken? If one of your magic wielders can scry the location, I can teleport there.”
“If only it were that easy,” Seth Zhar Ral replied, “I can only give you a map on which the location was marked, and I was lucky to even get that much. The insanity gets worse with every warband I send.”
“Very well; I suppose that will have to do.”
Seth Zhar Ral sent one of his succubi away to fetch a copy of the map. The demoness vanished and soon returned bearing a tightly rolled parchment scroll that was approximately the length of her forearm. She presented it to Maraduamnaa, who took it, unrolled it, and began to study it. It was drawn in a crude, rigid style, and the names were written in Ancra-Vo-Yek’s dialect of the language of demons. The route to the ruins was denoted by a winding crimson line that danced between the mountains, eventually ending in a red X.
After a few minutes, Maraduamnaa rolled the map closed, turned toward Baal-Kephor and the beasts, and said, “Let us make ready to leave. Time is of the essence.”
“That it is,” Seth Zhar Ral replied, grinning wider. “I look forward to your triumphant return.”
Maraduamnaa said nothing as she, Baal-Kephor, and their retinue left the throne room of Seth Zhar Ral, the door closing behind them.
Baal-Kephor couldn’t help but draw a comparison to a coffin being slammed shut.
The End
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Next Chapter: The Blackguard's Altar https://talesofvalorandwoe.wixsite.com/zeragabaalkhal/post/diabolical-ascension-vi-the-blackguard-s-altar
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