Erich dropped Harold’s body on the pile. He was the last of the corpses from the stairwell, giving Erich a moment to rest, sweat rolling down his face and chest as he caught his breath.

  Finally, after he felt a little better, Erich began picking up rocks from piles of rubble that were still left over from the battle between Sathis and Major Nettlewisp. One by one he began piling the stones around the heap of bodies.

  Cremation was the more traditional way of dealing with corpses, but Sathis was an expert capable of materializing the element of fire. There was no way that someone like him would have carried a flint and steel around, and even if he did there was no wood or oil to start a fire.

  Minutes blurred together, and almost an hour later his work was done. The stone cairn covering the body wasn’t much. It wouldn’t stop an ordinary scavenger let alone the mutated creatures that stalked the dark, but it was the best that Erich was able to manage with the resources he had on hand.

  He reached into Sathis’ pack, pulling out the last wrapped field ration and canteen. Erich chewed on the unleavened bread and dried meat, washing the desert dry food down with his last gulp of water.

  Carefully, he packed the canteens back into the backpack before slinging it up and over his shoulders. He looked around the cave one last time, making sure that there wasn’t anything that he was missing.

  Satisfied that there wasn’t anything more for him to find, Erich picked up Sathis’ sword and the glowstone. It only took a moment for him to slip the glowing rock into the webwork of netting on his pack’s shoulder strap, and then he was out of excuses.

  There was no reason for him to remain in the cave but his own fear and meaningless sentimentality. Erich took a deep breath, holding it for a second before releasing it.

  He walked toward the staircase, anxiety drying his tongue and pricking at the palms of his hands. Erich had never been part of an expedition to hell. Those were rare, and survivors were rarer. He knew from stories that the demons that infested hell were numerous, vicious, and powerful. Mages that could communicate with hell’s denizens could gain great power from forming contracts with them, but he was neither a mage nor a scholar.

  Erich reached out and touched the crystalline walls of the staircase. He invested a sliver of mana into the glowstone, and the entire structure lit up like a torch. Longingly, Erich looked upward at where the staircase wound up the inside of the spire toward heaven.

  His footsteps echoed through the empty passageway, the only sound in the silent and eternal night of the bridge between worlds. One after another, the stairs glowed silently under his feet as Erich walked down the tight spiral of the staircase, his left hand extended toward the central pillar that ran down the center of the spire.

  It took about five minutes for the first whiff of sulfur to assault Erich’s nose. His legs were beginning to burn from the repetitive exertion, but years of effort in the Green River training yard kept him comparatively fresh.

  A minute later, a dull orange glow from below began to accompany the smell of rotting eggs. Heat began to build around him, and Erich’s breath began to burn his ragged throat. Sweat beaded on his forehead, each step was slightly more difficult than the one before it.

  Then, the exit to the stairwell was looming in front of him. It was a cave, much like the one he had come from, but lit by a blood red light. The walls of the cavern were smooth, unblemished by the titanic fight that had half destroyed the cave in the unclaimed lands.

  Cautiously, hand on the hilt of Sathis’ sword, Erich stuck his head into the cave. There wasn’t anything there but featureless walls that led outward to the landscape of hell.

  Erich’s clothes and armor stuck to his chest, fused to his body by the near constant sweat buildup that had plagued his descent. Without thinking he reached for the backpack only to catch himself. All of the canteens were empty. If he wanted water he’d need to find some, and fast.

  A second quick glance confirmed the safety of his immediate surroundings, and Erich walked slowly toward the entrance to the cave. He paused just inside the opening, peering out as he took in the sights of hell for the first time.

  Despite the ruddy light that seemed to emanate from the landscape itself, the rocky landscape was surprisingly blue. The cave was at the base of a rocky spire, much like the one he’d entered in the unclaimed lands, but its surroundings were dramatically different.

  He was in a valley. Near the bottom, greenery surrounded a narrow river, but the rest of the canyon was orangeish rock stained with large splashes of blue. If he strained his eyes, Erich could see puddles of bubbling liquid near the center of the of the luridly colored patches of stone.

  Beyond the orange and blue rocks, the walls of the valley stretched up toward the sky. None of them looked completely unscalable, they were at roughly a forty five degree angle and thirty or forty feet tall, but it would be incredibly difficult for anyone to climb up or down them. For better or worse, the spire and riverbed were more or less isolated from the rest of hell.

  About five hundred feet away, a two foot high column of obsidian crowned in yellow paint jutted out of the stone. Erich flanked around one final time before adjusting his backpack and setting out toward the marker.

  The climb down from the spire was difficult, but not impossible. His boots skidded and slipped on the orange gravel that covered the slope. At least twice he had to catch himself, arms pinwheeling as he lost control on his way to the floor of the valley.

  Erich paused next to the first marker, his mouth opened as he struggled to breath through hot and stinking air. Now that he was at the bottom of the valley, he could see the plants that lined the river, and none of them resembled the one she remembered from Hollendil. The tree trunks were too smooth, covered in dark, viscous sap, and their leaves were too thin and too long. Nearer the ground, thorn covered brambles and creepers filled every inch of the gaps between the trees. The only exception were a handful of waist high purple flowers.

  Nothing grew near the huge flowers, and even from a distance Erich could smell the sickly stench of rotting flesh. Mentally, he made a note to avoid the plants no matter what.

  He could already see the second marker five or six hundred feet away. It stood just outside the narrow strip of forest that clung to the center of the valley. Erich glanced from the thick wall of green back to the marker.

  Theoretically, the spire behind the cinderborn lines should be a little bit more than a day away. At least that’s how far it would have been in the unclaimed lands. Practically, the terrain of hell was much more difficult to traverse, meaning that the journey would take longer. Realistically, he had no idea if he would be stuck in hell for a couple of days or a couple of weeks. More importantly, the likelihood that Erich would run into an opponent or a pack of opponents was astronomically higher in hell.

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  At the moment, he was out of food and water. He could probably walk for a day without sleep or sustenance, but even that would be a stretch in the sweltering heat. If Erich ran into any monsters after the first couple of hours, he would be too weak and delirious to help himself.

  He looked at the marker one last time before turning to face the forest. The strange trees, thorned creepers, and dangerous looking flowers didn’t seem inviting. Worse, he couldn’t see more than a couple feet into the foliage so any number of predators or monsters might be hiding just out of sight. Despite all of Erich’s misgivings, it wasn’t like he had a real choice. Either he risked it now or lost everything later when he couldn’t even lift his sword to defend himself.

  Erich drew his sword. The blade felt natural in his hand. Almost like he was born to carry it. Without even thinking, he shifted to the double handed grip of Magma Blossom as he began walking toward the forest. His feet automatically slipped into the cadence of the sword style, short quick steps that would let him regain his balance if he slipped, or transition into an attack with equal ease.

  A quick slash from the sword cut apart some of the vines, and Erich’s backswing removed the rest. He was careful not to invest mana into the attacks, hoarding the power just in case he ran into a monster of some sort.

  The thick ropes of foliage fell away, revealing a gap between the first layer of trees that led to another wall of green. Erich brushed aside the dangling vines, wincing as the thorns still managed to scrape his forearm despite his battered armor.

  Another series of slashes opened up the path in front of him. Erich had to turn himself sideways and duck to avoid the brambles that stretched between the trees. This time he managed to proceed without any additional scratches, and fairly quickly he settled into a rhythm. Hack with his sword to open a path, pause for a second to assess the direction he was moving, and then continue.

  Erich only had to stop once, after he came across a clearing with one of the giant flowers in it. The instant he smelled the charnel scent of rotting flesh that marked the plants, he immediately turned around, suffering another scratch on his cheek and a half dozen on his left arm.

  He winced. Trickles of blood were beginning to bead up from the cuts. Erich reached up, smearing the blood across his sticky face. It didn’t hurt much, but sweat was starting to seep into the scratches, causing them to sting more than they should.

  Sathis’ sword whistled through the air, cutting apart another curtain of the heavily barbed vines. The heat, humidity and the stench of sulfur was making his head throb, and his arms were beginning to burn from the constant effort it took to hack his way through the undergrowth without using mana.

  Another slash cleared the path completely, and finally Erich was able to see the small river that ran down the center of the valley. It was barely fifteen feet wide, and the water was an unnatural shade of red. Hopefully the color was from the river reflecting the ruby light that covered everything in hell rather than some sort of sediment or additive to the water.

  Erich reached up, wiping the blood and sweat from his face again. The cuts on his head and arms were beginning to ache, and he had to squint his eyes against the throbbing in his head in order to make out the details of the river in front of him.

  A buzzing sound, like the mosquitos back home, filled Erich’s ears, but he couldn’t see a source. He shook his head, trying to clear the phantom noise but only succeeding at doubling the pounding of his headache.

  Finally, he gave in. Erich didn’t see any monsters lurking in the river, and although the current was brisk, it wasn’t moving so quickly that he was worried that it would drag him off of his feet and pull him downstream.

  Wobbling slightly from a wave of dizziness and pain, Erich dropped to one knee and removed the pack from his back. He undid its clasp, pulling out one of the canteens. Erich gripped the flask in his right hand and tried to pull the stopper out with his left, but for some reason he couldn’t grip onto the cork tightly enough to remove it.

  Sweat dripped off of his face, and Erich’s vision swam. Without thinking he brought the canteen up to his mouth and bit into the cork, removing it easily with his teeth before spitting the chunk of wood into his left hand. He leaned down, dipping the container into the river.

  It burbled as the reddish water filled it, the sound barely audible over the buzzing that was growing steadily louder. Belatedly, he realized that he should have tested out the water with a stick or his sword to make sure that it wasn’t acidic or boiling hot.

  Despite the sweltering surroundings and the thick, foul air, the river itself was surprisingly refreshing. It was a bit chilly. A welcome change from the humidity and heat that felt like it was crushing his skull.

  Erich stood back up, holding the full flask in front of him. This was it. The moment of truth. He was in hell. An environment famous for its hostility toward both its own denizens and outsiders. He had no way of testing whether the water was good to drink nor to purify it magically if it wasn’t.

  The world spun and wobbled around him and Erich blinked rapidly, trying to clear the biting sweat from his eyes. It was hot out. So unbelievably hot. His clothes and armor rasped over his skin, suddenly too tight and itchy.

  He touched the canteen to his lips. Erich knew that he should be more cautious. That he should try to start a fire. Boiling the water wouldn’t remove magic or poison, but it was still much better than drinking the liquid raw.

  Buzzing filled his ears, drowning out the questions and doubts. Erich couldn’t stop himself, he opened his mouth and tipped the canteen upward.

  Water splashed across his tongue. It was cool, but the taste was foul. It was like there was something rotting upstream. Still, Erich managed to choke it down.

  The liquid slid down his tongue before it began to roil in his stomach, kicking and bucking like a living creature that was trying to escape. Erich clamped his mouth shut, trying to think of anything but his body revolting against the water. After a couple of seconds, his nausea began to subside so he took another drink from the canteen.

  The second sip wasn’t nearly as bad. Erich was ready for the foul taste, and he managed to choke the water down without too much difficulty. By the time he took the third, he’d more or less acclimated himself to the taste. It was still unpleasant, but he didn’t have the urge to throw up the moment he swallowed any longer.

  Erich dropped down to one knee after finishing the first canteen, dipping the container back into the river to refill it. The movement made his head throb again. His vision was still swimming, and Erich’s forehead felt like it was burning up.

  He frowned slightly. It was almost like he had a fever. At first he had assumed that he was feeling unwell due to the heat and dehydration, but after drinking a full canteen of water, things weren’t any better.

  His arm still hurt. The buzzing sound was louder, to the point that it was hard for him to hear his own thoughts. His face felt like it was on fire and-

  Erich’s line of reasoning ground to a halt and he looked down at his left arm. The scratches from the vine were puffy and swollen, the skin around them an angry read that seemed to pulse in time with his heart. He reached upward and touched his face.

  The other cut from the vine was just as inflamed and his skin felt like it was on fire despite a thick coating of sweat.

  He wobbled back to his feet. Erich’s breath was hot in his throat. Once again he felt the urge to strip off his clothing in a vain attempt to cool himself, all while the buzzing around him grew in volume.

  Erich looked upward toward where the sound seemed to be coming from, squinting his eyes at the red glow that covered everything. His vision swam for a second before he froze.

  Almost twenty creatures, orange humanoids that were about four feet tall flitted through the air on hummingbird wings. Each of the figures had four arms, each ending in a trio of sharp looking talons. Their mouths were dull red beaks, the edges serrated to the point that they resembled fangs.

  Adrenaline coursed through Erich’s body, dispelling the fog brought on poisonous thorns. The creatures were too small to be lesser demons, but they didn’t resemble any sort of natural animal, and that could only mean one thing.

  Imps. An entire pack of them.