To the Victor goes the Spoils/Continued

Author’s note: I own nothing! Boo!

It was the quiet time in hell, if there is such a thing. Leviathans rotations were the most consistent movement to be seen, the cenobites were still lying low. They had something to protect now.
It was several weeks after the courtships, and the successful breedings were just starting to bear fruit.

Most cenobites had not left their private quarters in the last fortnight. The rules of hell forbade it. They had been obliged to protect those they had bred for only the night they lay with them, before the females in question went on their way, but today was a time for silence so as not to disturb the queens. Topec watched with wary eyes from the battlements of the labyrinth, a silent sentinel. This day did not relieve the Gash from their duties; they had been summoned and so were not here to keep the balance. He would guard hell alone.
A soft scrapping sound, he turned to regard it. Along the wall below him the engineer scampered past, dropping pieces of something in its desperation to keep from falling from the wall. The objects in question hit the ground with a slight thud until it turned the corner and was gone. A small smile, even the engineer was nervous this day. Its scraping claws vanished down the passage, leaving him in silence once more. Topec turned his eyes to Leviathan, back to the Labyrinth, and… what?

Something was running down one of the other passages, a strange creature at best. Topec knew, as did all of hell, that mortals were not the only creature to open the box these days. Other races from other worlds had discovered it as well, and hell now had a rather diverse manasury. But he had not seen this before. And old need rose in him, dormant since he had given up his throne, a need to acquire this soul, trace its flesh with his blade, taste its suffering… he smiled, not a completely uneventful day after all!

He began his hunt. The soul was navigating the maze with a single minded persistence, treading a strait course; perhaps logic was with it, for it seemed to be making its way to the maze’s heart. Right then it struck him, fear. Thick in the air, it was a taste upon his tongue, a feeling in the bottom of his stomach, pungent, tangible fear. Not his own, no… it was coming from that thing! It was a threat; it was a threat to Leviathan! It had been more then a millennia it seemed since the Horrif, servants to Behemoth, had invaded hell. But with every sense equipped to him he recognized the danger.

Exstapis was not here, nor were his order. Topec braced himself, shut his eyes. He had not summoned his own order for years, but the memory was strong with him. In their own sections of hell Butterball, Chatterer, and the Female lifted their heads in shock, but the call was out. Topec blocked the creature in the maze, he placed himself before it, drew his blades. The Horrif glared him down, and hissed.
Chatterer emerged to its left, Butterball and the Female came from behind. Topec drew blade, the others followed. They were given no warning.

The creature charged them; extending long claws it attempted to cleave its way free. Topec braced himself, dodging was not an option; he could not allow the creature further passage. Blade met bone, it was stronger than he had assumed and forced the blade from his hand. Topec ducked the next swipe and reclaimed his weapon; beside him the Chatterer had moved forward and drawn blood. The Horrif screamed, an ear piercing cry that had all of hell recoiling as the silence was broken. In response Topec roared and plunged forward again, abreast with his lieutenant he sliced a curved arch, severing an arm from its joint. Wailing the Horrif retreated, dark liquid with a metallic odor splashed the stones.

Butterball moved up from behind and seized the creature by the throat; Topec twisted his blade in his palm, and severed the head. As the gaping maw hit the ground with a thud the body continued to writhe. It spasmed in its death throes like an insect that had been sliced in two, twitching, even as it spouted foul ichor onto the walls and dirt. Then it was still. Everything was still.
Chatterer and butterball were watching the corpse with thinly veiled distrust. His lieutenant was at his side still, her eyes on him, but quiet, solemn. This was a sign, first, the demon in their own realm falling prey to the fallen God’s advances, and now on the most important day of their year, a Horrif attack. From the hidden passages the other cenobites came, heads lowered, eyes dark. But one by one they grew colder, leviathans will intertwining their own. This would not be repeated, defenses would be improved, and the labyrinth would remain secure. Hell would function on as it always had.

The Gash had returned, Exstapis came forward and observed the fallen offender, his eyes met Topec’s and remained there. They would guard again now. Topec surrendered the post, a weariness in him that had not been there before, the first question in his mind of if he was still strong enough to defend leviathan. The blade had been forced from his hand… it could have cost him his life.

Author’s note, EXTRA: In response to review. I think that Dreamer would be able to remove the cigarette, don’t you? So that she could put in a new one when the old one burned down? Or maybe in hell cigarettes burn forever..? heh, well sex wise it would be really awkward! :)