[The Celestial Wars] Chapter 1.22

Belial watched as Avis flicked his head from side to side, before the boy decided on the path that led back down into the family levels. He sat very still, long after Avis had left his visual sight. His power gave him the ability to see anything he wished within the borders of Chaos and for a few minutes he entertained himself by watching the Mystallian stumble from one cavern to another, desperately searching for anyone he could mentally dominate into a guide.

It was with no small amount of satisfaction that Belial cleared the caverns of staff and family on either side of the Mystallian long before Avis walked into them—for no other reason than to watch his son-by-marriage’s growing frustration. He even restructured the walls and ceilings so that vast stretches and turns were all identical, just to antagonise him further. The ploy worked better than he hoped, for Avis tilted his head back and roared his frustration at the ceiling, then slammed his fist through the nearest stone wall. That boy is sooooo like his father, the supreme demon mused with a smoky snort of laughter.

However, as entertaining as it was to watch his son-by-marriage turn himself inside out, he knew he had to acknowledge his silent but steadfast Military Commander still standing at his side. He hadn’t left, which meant the situation bothered him enough to stay.

It also meant things were about to go to the next level.

Belial rose from his throne and flared his wings, then cracked his neck in several directions. “You have been my champion since the beginning of creation, Beelzebub,” he declared without turning to look at the demon in question. “Speak your mind.”

“Four Highborn Hellion Guards, Milord?” The words were spoken in disbelief. “It only took six to destroy all of Teon, and they amassed an army thinking it would save them. I know you love your family, but none of them warrants this level of protection.”

“Columbine does,” he corrected, wondering if Theodrick had had a similar discussion with his champion; the first of his crystalline warriors he’d so originally named One.

“I do not understand.”

Belial knew this. After all, his champion hadn’t heard Columbine’s Upper Realm command that notified both the Shifter and the Bender of her existence. He himself had choked when he heard her feminine voice on a level that only he and Theodrick had previously shared. “Cora lost her arm reaching too high for a weapon she had no business going for and being sapient, the weapons wall wanted to kill her for being so audacious.”

Beelzebub nodded. “I know this, Milord. Even now, the girl’s wherewithal to see past the pain of her impending death long enough to sever her arm and thus escape that fate … it continues to astound me.”

“Then you may cease your sycophantic praise. Cora’s survival had nothing to do with her. It was all Columbine.”

Beelzebub frowned again. “I still do not understand.”

“Cora was dying. The wall was killing her, as it was supposed to. That was, until Columbine commanded it to stop.”

Instead of comprehending, Beelzebub’s confusion intensified. He opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it shut again. Belial could well understand his perplexity. No one except Belial and Theodrick were supposed to be able to command that weapons wall, and certainly not a tiny, little girl-child.

But rather than offering any further information, Belial folded his massive arms and watched his champion struggle with the enigma he’d been presented. The warrior’s gaze searched the room for the elusive answer he refused to bring himself to ask. Any time now. Belial almost grinned when Beelzebub froze, indicating the only possible explanation had finally dawned on him. Shock swept across the ancient warrior as he swung back to face Belial, his mouth hanging open incredulously.

Belial met that stunned silence with a nod and a superlative smile. “We have been waiting a long time for her, my friend, and now, she is here. Finally.”

Beelzebub closed his mouth, then licked his lips with his forked tongue, his chest heaving on the revelation. “But we obliterated her army and killed her champion, Milord! I never expected her to be so … young. She is but a babe. Totally and utterly defenceless—”

Belial curled his lip and held up one taloned finger. “We took out the garbage,” he corrected. “And given we are all still alive to talk about it, one must assume it was all part of a bigger plan that not even we are aware of.”

That seemed to settle Beelzebub, for he drew in a deep breath and calmed himself. “Is four all you wish to send, Milord?” he asked, completely reversing his earlier opinion of four being too many. “I could dispatch a full contingent or two to go with them. Ensure absolutely nothing comes anywhere near them …”

“Four will be enough,” Belial insisted. “Enough questions will be asked over the presence of a mere four. Any more will cause the pantheons to make unnecessary assumptions that will get them killed. Let the guards know their only priority during this time is Columbine. Any threat to her will be dealt with as if the Well of Hell itself was being threatened.”

“And if that danger should extend to her family?” Beelzebub asked, not in defiance of his lord but for clarification. “Currently, she is a well-balanced child with two loving parents who sees existence through the most adoring of perceptions. Should those circumstances change for the worse, she may evolve into something very few of us will survive.”

Belial hadn’t thought of that. Children were always so impressionable—girl-children even more so—and these first years were ludicrously important to their long-term development.

If Columbine saw the Known Realms’ violent reaction to her father being inside their territories firsthand, she might grow to hate them all. No, he amended. She would grow to hate them all, and once released, that hatred would spread faster and more catastrophically than any plague. Her formative years needed to be protected as much as she did, for all their sakes.

The next words out of his mouth made him sick to the stomach. “Protect the entire family unit … yes, that includes her father,” he added with a near growl when Beelzebub quirked an eye ridge mockingly. “Columbine is the ultimate priority, but for her emotional well-being, include the rest of her family travelling with her.”

Beelzebub dipped his head. When he straightened again, he couldn’t hide his smile. “The Weaver is finally here.”

Appreciating that statement and what it would mean for all their futures, Belial matched that grin and nodded. “She is indeed.”

* * *

For a place that normally swarmed with demons, Avis wasn’t happy about how long it took him to find one that he could use as a guide. It was almost as if they were all deliberately hiding from him—a fact he knew was not the case, for he checked the memories of the first creature he finally came across and found no duplicity involving him. They just … hadn’t been where Avis was.

His gut instinct blamed Belial. It could never be proven, and he certainly wasn’t going back to ask, but something told him his father-by-marriage was behind this latest round of aggravation.

Nevertheless, he had a demon’s mind firmly under his control now, so he was set. The legless demon he followed had a long, scorpion tail curled over its back with its head attached to the tip where the barb should be. It never looked back at Avis as it slithered along, leading him down the twists and turns until things started to take on a hint of familiarity.

When he saw Clarise hurrying down the corridor towards him, he released his hold on the creature and ran to her. “Is everything alright?” he asked, catching her easily around her shoulders and drawing her close.

Clarise wrapped her own arms around his waist and hugged him in turn. “Everything is being organised as we speak, beloved. Frash and Tilu are gathering our things and Gingen and Diviten are preparing the girls. Uriel has given us access to the demonic stables and will personally select the best demon steeds for us to ride. The first part of our journey will be by raft over the Akheron River.”

Avis frowned in concern. “The Akheron?” he repeated, certain he’d misheard. “Why in the realms would we trek all the way through the Nine Levels to use the Akheron when the Cocytos River is just outside The Well?”

Clarise seemed pleased that he knew the geography of her home capital. She wouldn’t have been so thrilled to know the knowledge came from every level and sublevel of Hell being burned into him with acid during his time amongst the Damned. His jaw tightened with the memory. Literally.

They’d etched the map into his back while he was on his hands and knees and forced him to replicate every line on the floor at their feet with the blood of his own slashed fingers. More than once. But that, like other unpleasant aspects of his life, was history to be learned from, not dwelled upon. He forced his teeth apart and worked his jaw until the tension completely left him. Ancient history, he reminded himself.

“Why does that concern you, Avis?” she asked.

Avis didn’t want to answer that. To do so, he’d have to explain all the different hells contained within those damned levels. His beloved wife may have had a small inkling since she knew about things like The Walk, but he doubted her innocence could handle everything that went on out there. And the girls would’ve had no clue at all.

If that didn’t make him the greatest hypocrite in existence, that he wanted to protect them from the ugly truth when all along he’d wanted them to make their stands, he didn’t know what did. But none of the darkness he’d once endured was going to touch them if he had his way. “I would have thought Cocytos would have been the better choice. I mean, it’s right outside The Well …”

Clarise slid to his side and wrapped her left arm around his right. Not as intimate as a moment ago, but close enough that it would do, for now. “I did mention that to Father, my love, however he has specifically forbidden us from taking the Cocytos River. Something about the misery of its waters potentially affecting us or vice-versa … or something. To be honest, he was not making a whole lot of sense on the matter.”

Avis stared straight ahead; his shoulders squaring and his gaze sharpening. Belial was making plenty of sense to him. To go anywhere near the Cocytos River was to invite a suicidal level of melancholy upon oneself.

The river itself was imbued with misery, and misery was an emotion. After his brief introduction to whatever was attached to Columbine’s essence, he knew his precious little girl would be inundated by the emotion. Probably crippling her beyond recovery. The thought of her suffering so horribly sent a very real shiver through him.

He jerked when a gloved finger pressed into his cheek. “What are you thinking, beloved?” Clarise asked, running the finger down to his jaw while staring up at him.

Pushing those disturbing thoughts aside, he genuinely attempted to smile. “Nothing that won’t make me sound like a raving lunatic,” he promised, dancing around the truth without lying. He tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips into her hair. “So, how long before we head out?” Yes, he was deliberately changing the subject. Too bad.

At least Clarise didn’t argue with him. “Our things are already being taken to the stables at the entrance of The Well. Even if we take our time, we should arrive well ahead of the girls and be ready to depart soon afterwards.”

Dawdling with the most beautiful woman ever created at his side was the last thing Avis had in mind. As far as he was concerned, this was their honeymoon—their real honeymoon—and like every newly married male that came before him, every second counted.

Besides, she owed him for that earlier cock-blocking, and he intended to collect. “And if we went back to our rooms first?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows and licking his lips very suggestively. “After all, you did promise to make it up to me, sweetheart.”

Clarise stared at him for a moment, then clapped her free hand over her mouth, but couldn’t suppress the burst of laughter that bubbled up from within. “Avis, you are incorrigible!” she giggled through her fingers.

Not technically hearing a denial in that, Avis grew bolder and moved into her space, dominating it with his sheer size. He stared down at her, his free arm snaking around her cloak to hold her close. “So, do we have time to go back for one last … dance in our old apartment before we go, M’lady?”

Her amusement gave way to sensuality as she lowered her hand from her face and rested her chin against his chest, her eyes glued to his. Just as he thought she was going to concede, she shook her head slightly, those golden dancing with mischief. “I am afraid not, beloved,” she purred against his sternum.

The admission would have derailed his hopes, had she not worn a saucy grin that belied her words. “But fortunately for you, you had the good sense to seduce and marry a Highborn Hellion who is able to commandeer the use of any cavern around us I wish—any time I wish.” Her smile turned just as flirtatious. “That is, provided my beloved husband is up to the task of … dancing well enough to satisfy us both in little more than a cave.”

Normally, Avis despised challenges. They were a threat to his capability and no matter who said them or how prettily they were worded, he always made sure the person who issued them lived just long enough to regret it. But Clarise’s first attempt at sexual innuendo had his body soaring from piqued interest to a rock-solid mass of wanton desire in two seconds flat and he barely held in the ungodly groan. Releasing one arm, he twirled her away from him; swatting her backside as her cloak flew up to reveal it. “Get me to that cave, sweetheart, and I’ll show you a dance you’ll never forget.”

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

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