To the Victor goes the Spoils/Continued

Author’s note: I own nothing. Damn. Damn-daMn-dAmn-damN-Damdiedamdable-damididoo. Somebody Help Me!!!

He slept it seemed forever, drifting to and fro in the tide of Leviathan’s light until without warning, the light withdrew. A strange coldness closed in around him, he began to sink, the ability to feel and the need to wake drifted away. Something called him, stirred him enough so that he fought to rise…
He woke gasping, feverish, a haze before his eyes. Something was not right. Angelique still slept, but her brow was furrowed, soft whimpers escaped her lips. He waited, sensed nothing amiss with her. It was the labyrinth, it had to be. Had the defenses misfired? Was there danger? It was too still…
He shook her until she woke, her eyes met his, unfocussed, a light sweat shone on her face and shoulders. When she spoke it was weak. “Topec… I feel…”
“Hush. It is not you.”
“Dreamer, where is dreamer..?” she seemed to tilt, laughed tipsily. “She’ll be so mad at me, ‘cause I didn’t wait for her. And I, and I…” Topec stared in shock as she failed to rise, her eyes tearing up. “…I’m afraid.” Her pupil’s dilated, she shivered. “Topec, I’m so afraid… I cannot feel fear, but I am…” he grabbed her hands to stop their trembling.
“Be. Still. Look on me, I tremble not, nor should you.” She stared past him, unseeing, her fingers curled into his flesh as she clung with a blind instinct to him. He pulled away, cried out as she ripped a strip from his chest. She curled inward, shook and moaned. He could hear her cry mirrored from all the corridors of hell. This was… Horror. He listened for the call of the God, hoping for answers. No call came.

No bell tolls,

No beam of light…

No… No Leviathan?!

Leviathan! Where was Leviathan?!

Panic seized him in its jaws, knocked the wind out of him. The demon quaked at the realization that Leviathan may be compromised, had been muted. His legs shook as the walls themselves seemed to reach out to swallow him. The human deep within surged forward into an opening void.
(You fool! You’ve no time for shellshock now! Move! Move to the God!) Topec focused on the small, insistent voice. “…Spenser, you have been silent so long…”
(There’s not time to exchange pleasantries Demon, Hell is falling as you stand there.) The labyrinth groaned, Angelique gave a high wail, looked threw him in stark terror. (Don’t look at her! She cannot help us, nor can our son, there is too much Demon in him.)
“He has the chains…”
(Remain calm, you must claim the chains again, and be quick. Do you remember the trenches? How quickly we sprinted from one to the next? Run again Demon!) He stood, the stag reared in cenobite skin again, anger and fear laced his breath. (Run as we are! North wind of hell and swiftest of the Gash, run Damn you! RUN!) He bolted, leapt atop the walls as the labyrinth shifted in defense, shutting down passages and sealing doors.

In the sky above Leviathan was calling his Gash to him, but none could hear. The Horrif was almost at the maze’s heart. Not the same as the one from before, his rank far higher. A servant for at least a thousand years, a Priest of Chaos. His shadow stretched behind him like a grotesque cowl, filled with the malice of his God, Covering the Labyrinth in despair. He gave a savage screech, the walls crumpled before him. And he was not alone. Two ran at his sides, mere shadows of him. Their hooves struck the ground hard enough to make the stones spark, their gaunt equinine heads tossed with madness.

Topec sprinted, coiled and leapt from rafter to rafter as the doors closed behind him, not fast enough to stop the Horrif’s advance. His lips drawn into a snarl, his eyes slits, his breaths deceptively calm. He was reaching his limit, soon his speed would peak, then slacken, he would loose sight of his enemy. He pushed harder. There! There they were!
Their stench filled his nostrils, their forms burned into his memory. He sprinted hard and with a leap sent himself flying into the Horrif’s path. The horse-like demons reared and pawed the air as Toped curled his lips back and gave a deep, demonic growl. It rolled across the stones like thunder, shook the ground as Leviathan tossed his voice into his servant’s.

The Horrif stood silent, one beast made as if to move forward but he grabbed its mane. It tossed its head and reared, he forced it down, held it there until it retreated from him. “…Are you, the Black Pope of Hell?” Quiet, measured, composed. Not what Topec had expected from a Horrif, even such an old one.

“I am known by many names.” In the back of his mind Spenser chuckled.

The Horrif smiled, he bowed lightly at the waist. “Well, Black Pope of the many names, I am Matthias. Prince of chaos, and Son of the great Shapron, King of this Labyrinth.”

Topec’s eyes were cold. “The Shapron that Tec Pozep slew at the Great Divide?” The Horrif smiled,

“No, his Son, who escaped hell and followed our Lord into exile. However I’m impressed by your grasp of history. Or were you there? You seem too young to have been, at least your flesh…” he laughed, a soft, light sound. “I had hoped you were still alive, they claim you are the last of the old one’s left. Your maker, Agonis the blood crowned would have been a pleasure as well, but we knew of his death.” Matthias smiled, “…and of his murderer.” Topec did not respond, he was cold and still, his eyes reflected no light.

“My Lord bid’s you leave, you are not welcome here. Son of Shapron.” Spencer sighed, (Well, he’ll love that bit of news won’t he?)

Matthias smiled, his eyes grew blacker, his lips drew back to reveal a cold grin. The back of his robe rose into the air and spread behind him, fluttered lightly in the cold wind of hell. He extended his hands to cup the bottom lips of the two creatures. “I can see that, and I will respectfully withdraw. But surely you will allow me to deliver my gift? These stallions are carved by my own hand. Let us see how you handle them!” The steeds reared and screamed, deadly hooves flailed in the air, heated breath misted from their nostrils. Maddened they sprang upon him, giving him little time to dodge the pounding hooves.

One snapped at his shoulder, tearing the leather before his blade sliced its muzzle. It whirled away as its companion brought his hooves down almost upon Topec’s back. (To close demon, your letting them get to close.) He whirled, robe wafting around his feet, deftly a blade flashed across the steed’s muscular tendons. Shrieking the beast fell to the dust, writhed on the ground and tried to regain its feet. (Better--ow!) A wet snap; merciless teeth sank into Topec’s ankle, ripping away flesh and muscle to barely miss the bone. ( “Be still! You are only distracting me.” )The other stallion galloped forward, blood running from his nose, and trampled his fellow below cloven hooves as bared teeth snapped at Topec’s throat.

Cornered into a wall by the maddened creature Topec dashed below the flailing hooves. One struck his shoulder, sending him tumbling into the dust. Dazed, he rolled to avoid being trampled; his hand pulled a larger blade from his belt. The other stallion was attempting to stand, his sliced tendons shaped by chaos knitting back together as his brother battled. They watched him with deep-set gleaming eyes, white and soulless as any in hell. Almost in tandem they began to circle, coming ever closer to where he stood, and waited. It was time, they were healing too quickly, and he needed to focus on the one who had brought them! The chains bent, hearing his invocation, his prayer to Leviathan for their skill. (Call them! Call them again!) They answered.

Both stallions screamed as the hooks slipped into their flesh, wound about their throats and legs, restraining them. Mathias laughed delightedly; he rose from his seat, gave a polite bow of farewell, and leapt into the air. One rumble of thunder shook the labyrinth and like a giant black serpent he vanished into a schism. …The haze slowly lifted from the creatures of hell, order returned and with it the voice and light of the God. Leviathan shone down on Topec, calming the demon, repressing the human until he was balanced. As the passages opened the Gash sprinted to Leviathan’s side. Exstapis fell to his knees, head bent in supplication. His broad shoulders bowed in grief, and shame. Leviathans voice boomed to the Labyrinth, calming those still reeling. Topec’s own Order had arrived, looking no less ashamed then the one of present.

A Whicker of pain came again from the constrained beasts. They tossed their heads as the Engineer approached them, snapped at his arms. Topec still looked up to the sky. His work was far from over, defenses were not strong enough, how had leviathan been silenced? How could that one be so strong? Or was he still too weak? Was the flaw in himself? What would Leviathan’s judgment be on Exstapis, the Gash; did he want to lead again? Could he? A hand settled upon his shoulder. Elactrice had appeared from nowhere and nuzzled lightly against his throat, her shoulders still quivering. His son lay all too silent in her arms; he gave a small whimper, hiding from the black light. Something choked Topec, a lump formed in his throat. Hiding, afraid, his own son and all the rest of hell surely the same. Another set of hands. His consorts looked quietly to him, hardened and angered, eager to fight. But their eyes were haunted still. They looked to him, his Gash looked to him, His son looked to him, and his Gash as well. Leviathan looked down upon them all.

This was his Hell, his Consorts and heirs, his Gash and his God. He could not fail. The chains clamored for the kill, they whispered, ‘Let them come, to the victor goes the Spoils.’

Author’s note: Plot thickens, Hell is going to war. Dreamer might have to wait for his anger to cool before she gets hers. Poor dreamer… On the bright side Spenser makes me smile!