Tartarus Beckons by Edmund Batara (reading an ebook .TXT) 📕

Tyler saw the demon was splayed on the chair with eyes closed. It was apparent that the magical process ruthlessly tore through his innermost being, possibly changed something, and in the end, left Asag terribly exhausted.

“Well, that’s done,” said Labiru nonchalantly.

“First time I’ve seen such a magical procedure for creating a geas. This one is spectacularly and painfully different,” commented Tyler.

“It is. For one thing, even thinking about breaking his word would result in tremendous psychic pain. A guarantee of sorts. Even Asag might forget his responsibilities once in a while. I can’t blame him though, it is, as he confessed, but his nature,” explained Labiru. “Though I doubt if he wants to be brought back to the place where Adar’s judgments are rendered. He told me it gave him nightmares for a long time. I didn’t know then that demons could have such dreams. Though it didn’t help that he was brought there with his form squeezed inside a tiny square dimensional space. It was the size of a thimble, if I remember correctly.”

Abruptly, the attention of the two was drawn by a moan from Asag. The demon had now correctly sat on his stone chair, back in the almost-regal posture he had adopted before, but his hands were rubbing his temples. His expression still bore traces of pain, and it was evident that whatever magic was used on him, such power had side effects which took time to wear off.

“By Dumuzid! That was an experience I wouldn’t mind not suffering again. Your world’s magic is indeed powerful, Labiru. If that’s merely a drop in Adar’s ocean of magical power, a spoonful would be the death of me!”

“Dumuzid?” asked Tyler. He had not heard of the name but assumed it was a Mesopotamian deity, hero, or yet another demonic creature.

“A shepherd god, also known as Tammuz. A major figure back then, considering sheep were important to Sumerian society. The consort of the goddess Inanna, a husband who failed to mourn her descent to Irkalla, the Underworld. I wonder why?” A slight snide smile appeared on Asag’s features. Then with a loud laugh, he dropped his punch line.

“Only, she came back, understandably furious, and sentenced him to spend half of the year down in Irkalla to be tortured by demons. There’s a valuable moral lesson there, and an interesting tale, but you won’t get it from me.”

Chapter Eighteen

Introducing a Demon

“Time to leave then,” said Asag with a very expectant smile. To Tyler’s amused observation, the demon fairly glowed with excitement and had already transformed back to its warrior persona.

I’d be shouting with joy if I was in his place. But I never did understand the minds of these dark creatures even after several encounters with them. The Aztecha ones were the weirdest though, reflected the mage. But this situation also means we now have a chance of leaving the mountains and get back on our original course, the observation followed.

Then he remembered the trio of rogues.

Shit. Those three have a different destination. A double request then from Labiru. Asag doesn’t know about the abandoned temple of Freyr. It’s a recent addition compared to his arrival in these mountains. The demon wouldn’t know how to get there even if he’s allowed to use his magic. And there’s that unacceptable appearance of his warrior self to fix, plus an acceptable explanation for his sudden presence.

“You do have to change the material of the armor and sword, Asag. Gold really doesn’t spell inconspicuous. And a new name for you,” said Tyler.

“Gold is so remarkable, you know,” answered the demon, as the precious metal in his armor and the khopesh changed to steel. “Some mortals say it’s a source of evil, but place a pile of the thing in front of them, and they’d kill their brother for it.”

“We’re humans, Asag. With all the frailties and weaknesses it connotes. That change in your appearance will do. Archaic, and I don’t know if that’s the fashion in arms and armor in the western kingdoms, but it’s a lot better than your old glowing self. And your new name, any ideas on that?”

“A new name? This gets better and better!”

Such enthusiasm over a name? wondered the mage.

“I see you failed to see the importance of such a simple event, First Mage,” smirked Asag, catching the mage’s puzzled face. “A name is a crucial element in one’s magic and destiny. It reduces to one word, or a few, all your twisted or altruistic – take your pick – ambitions and ideas about how you look at life and how life should treat you.”

“But mortals don’t have that luxury. Our names are selected at birth by parents,” answered Tyler.

“I know. That what makes a mortal’s life more interesting – whether such a creature could escape the name-cage its birth or foster parents unwittingly gave it. It is a rare occurrence when the name and nature of the newly born being coincide. Magic and fate do have a way of being wary and envious of a person’s name, and at the mistaken pretensions of grandeur that one has control over one’s destiny. You know what makes such a situation ironic?”

“Nope,” Tyler answered. The demon was going to continue anyway, whether the mage wanted or not.

“The name is not the mortal’s choice in the first place,” laughed Asag. “It’s an imposed contrivance built out of another’s hopes and dreams! Talk about trying to fit a sword in the wrong scabbard.”

“So, your name? We have to decide that before you leave,” persisted the mage. The demon was already becoming loquacious, yet Tyler couldn’t blame him. This must have been the first time over the millennia the creature had a decent discussion. Labiru’s talks with Asag were necessary inconveniences in the powerful entity’s mind, and the demon knew that little fact.

“Alal!” exclaimed Asag. “That’s my name for this new life of mine!”

“Alal?” asked the mage.

“The Destroyer!”

“Isn’t that too obvious?” commented Tyler doubtfully.

“Nah. Warriors back then