Page 4 of Hell Sent

Lord Nirlan chuckled, watching with awe. “What a brute. Look at him go.” He leaned closer. “Can you understand me, or not?”

Azreth bent low to examine the seam where the barrier connected to the floor. He could sense the magic continuing through the ground beneath him. He would not be able to dig under it.

“I think he can,” Lord Nirlan said, either to himself or to the other man. Then, after a pause, “It’s missing an arm. Of all the demons in every hell, thisis the one you brought me?”

The robed mortal finally spoke. His voice was low and serious. “The spell is not like an arrow I can easily shoot where I wish. It is not so simple to dictate what comes through it.”

“Of course. Wonderful.”

Azreth raised his hand, connecting to the web of magic that, to his relief, coated this world just like his own. He plucked at the strings of the spell holding together the barrier. It was strong—more complex than any magic he understood. He had no hope of unraveling it.

Instead, he curled his fingers into a fist, summoning a blade of magic. The mortals’ eyes widened, and the lord took half a step back.

Azreth jammed the blade into the barrier. Or, he tried to. The blade dissolved into nothing when it touched the barrier.

The mortal lord relaxed. “You’re quite violent, aren’t you?”

Azreth exhaled heavily, finally looking down at the man.

He would wait. His keepers would slip up eventually. And then he would destroy them.

* * *

Azreth had seen mortals before,but only a handful of times. They were kept as feeding slaves whenever they were captured in the hells. On a few occasions, he had crossed paths with one of them trailing another demon. It had made him burn with envy. He was fairly confident he could milk a single human for decades without killing them, if he was careful—and if he could tolerate the ugliness of the slaves. All of them had a wide-eyed, hollow look to them, like their minds were already dead and their bodies had gone on without them. He was disgusted by how sad and small and helpless they were.

He’d never fed from a mortal, but he knew they were easily frightened and easily controlled. He also knew that feeding from them was nothing like feeding from another demon. Nariel had fed from mortals before. When he’d asked her about it, she’d looked wistful and said it was like comparing freshly killed meat to dry, moldering bones.

That was what he’d heard, at least. That was what he imagined as he watched the human lord and his mage coming in and out of his chamber over the next few days. He envisioned killing them in various ways, and he thought about how lovely their agony would taste.

The bald mage, whom the lord called Eunaios, spent many hours painting enchanting runes all over the stones of the walls and floor. Now that he’d summoned and trapped Azreth, he was beginning work on a new spell.

Eunaios would work alone, in silence, for hours at a time without glancing up at him, but whenever he did, he looked nervous. Azreth stared straight back at him, hoping his fear—which was difficult to feel through the barrier—would intensify. It did, but only enough to whet his appetite.

After a long session of painting on the floor, Eunaios stood up, wincing as his joints cracked. Rubbing his lower back, the man looked over at him. Azreth was surprised when the mage actually came closer.

He stopped right beside the cage, squinting at him with a challenge in his eyes. “You always watch me. Why? Do you think you can intimidate me?” Eunaios said, his voice muffled by the barrier.

Azreth didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

Eunaios backed away, and Azreth thought that was the end of the interaction, but he was only fetching something that hung from a hook on the wall. A metal baton.

“Do you know what this is?” the mage asked, brandishing it.

Azreth just looked at him.

Eunaios pointed the baton toward the cage. Azreth had time to register the runes carved into it and the gathering of light at its tip just before lightning shot from it. It passed straight through the barrier and struck him like an iron sword. His vision went white as pain jolted through him. The next thing he knew, he was crumpled on the floor. Azreth panted, trembling.

“Do you even know what power I have?” Eunaios said, sounding far away. “I alone brought you here. Not Nirlan. It was I who summoned you here, and I who will bind you. Look at me again, demon.”

Slowly, he looked up at Eunaios. The baton exploded into crackling lightning again. Azreth tried to summon a shield to block the attack, but magic only sparked uselessly at his fingertips. He’d not fed, so he still had no power.

The lightning cut through him, burning him from the inside out. He tried to crawl backwards, but he hit the back of his cage.

Finally, the attack stopped.

“And now?” the mage said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “Look at me again. Do you dare?”

Azreth began to look up, then stopped himself. He kept his eyes on the ground, bracing himself for another attack.

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