“Well excuse the shit outta me for makin’ a funny-ass joke even if it doesn’t meet Your Royal Hostess’s joke standards!” Bill said as he frowned at me.
“It’s Royal Highness,” I corrected him. “Hostess makes Twinkies and Ding Dongs.”
“Whatevs,” he mumbled as he rubbed his stomach. “What I wouldn’t do for a Twinkie.” Then he glanced up at Tallis who was still ahead of us by about ten feet and frowned. “I’m sick of eatin’ Shrek food.”
I smiled and patted his arm in a feeble attempt to make amends. Then I took a deep breath and let it out, realizing I shouldn’t have jumped down Bill’s throat. Especially after he’d been a good friend and hung out in the front of the gym with nothing to do for two hours. “Sorry, Bill. I’m just really exhausted.”
“It’s okay, sugar nipples,” Bill responded with a big grin, his hurt feelings suddenly forgotten which made me wonder if they were really ever genuine in the first place. “So you were saying the deadlift was the worst,” he started, clearly attempting to mend our little rift. “How come?”
I smiled at him, grateful he was my friend and someone to keep me company in this godforsaken place because Tallis definitely wasn’t the sociable type. I sighed and tried to remember the worst part of my training. Ah, yes, the deadlifts …“Because it was so difficult to lift up the Intonker, and the thing looked scary as hell.”
An Intonker was yet another species of demon. Somehow, and I imagined it was probably against Afterlife Enterprises policy, Ael managed to collect ten demons of different species. Some of the more domesticated ones, i.e., the Handrels, were allowed to roam somewhat freely inside the gym. Because Intonkers were, apparently, easily angered and possessed foul tempers in general, all three of them were hogtied and used for exercises like the deadlift. The only other type of demon I saw was tethered outside the gym. It was tied to a tree, but had a long enough rope to allow it to chase people, thereby improving their running speeds.
As to the proper procedure for doing an Intonker deadlift, Ael ordered me to bend over with a straight back, then reach down and grab the ropes binding the creature before simply standing up again. But my grip on the ropes had to be wide enough that the demon couldn’t crane its neck around and sink its unlimited fangs into my arm.
Unlike the Handrels, that were somewhat harmless since they could only take a small bite out of you, the Intonkers weren’t. They were much larger, about the size of a boar, and just as thick. They were the color of deep swamp water and the texture of their skin felt like rough leather. Their faces were the worst part about them—completely hideous. Their squarish heads had jaws that were very angular and pronounced, with exaggerated underbites. Their fleshy jowls hung all the way down to their necks, sort of resembling a bulldog’s muzzle, but only slightly. They certainly didn’t share any of the bulldog’s charm though. Their myriad, razor-sharp teeth protruded every which way, filling their mouths until they looked like they were sucking on a cluster of white quartz. Their upturned noses were wide with broad, flaring nostrils. Their small, narrow, slit-like eyes glowed yellow and were very intimidating, to say the least.
“Shit, when I saw you pick that thing up, I thought for sure it was gonna bust through those ropes and swallow you whole,” Bill said with a nod.
“Oh really? Nice to know that your main concern was finding a Nintendo to play with.”
Bill was about to respond when the words faltered on his lips. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone which was currently vibrating with a text message. He flipped the phone open, a feat in and of itself, considering it was covered in duct tape from being dropped one too many times. His eyes went wide as he glanced up at me. “It’s from Skeletor Horn,” he said (his pet name for Jason Streethorn, the general manager of Afterlife Enterprises). I felt my heart drop.
“What … what did he say?” I asked, breathlessly.
Bill shrugged. “Looks like we’re headed back to the Underground.”
“Noisome the earth is, that receiveth this”
– Dante’s Inferno
FIVE
Looks like we’re headed back to the Underground.
They were eight words that I could honestly say I hoped to never hear again. But as a Soul Retriever working for Afterlife Enterprises, I also knew better.
“Yep, shit just got real,” Bill said, shaking his head as he sighed, letting it be known that he didn’t like the news any more than I did. But because Bill couldn’t be killed, the risks to him were nothing like what they were for me.
“Why is Jason ordering us to go back to the Underground now?” I inquired, angry and worried at the same time. “We just got back!” I yelled at Bill as I shook my head. My stomach had already plummeted to the ground. “Does Jason expect us to leave right now? Tonight? Tomorrow? What?” I didn’t wait for Bill to respond, but started vigorously shaking my head again as I started to seriously freak out. “I’m nowhere near ready to go there again! I still can’t defend myself!” My voice sounded panicky as I turned to face Tallis who was already looking my way, his face expressionless, as usual. “My training has barely even begun! I mean, shouldn’t Jason know that?” I threw my hands up in the air as I railed at Bill again. “What does his text even mean?” But Bill just shrugged as if to say he was just the messenger and didn’t appreciate being shot.
“I would take it to mean that we’re goin’ back to the Underground,” he said with another shrug and a sigh.
“Lemme see,” Tallis ordered as he motioned for Bill’s cell phone. Bill didn’t say anything as he handed the phone over to Tallis who studied it for a few moments. He was, no doubt, trying to figure out where the soul who needed retrieval was located. Mission texts from Afterlife Enterprises always included a live map of whatever area of the Underground City the soul happened to be in. The map acted like a homing device by reporting the soul’s current location in real time. So that way, no matter where the soul went, we would be able to track it … er, him or her.
“Circle Two,” Tallis said with a nod as if he were familiar with that area of the Underground City.
“What’s in Circle Two?” I asked. I was annoyed that I couldn’t recall the answer myself from Dante’s Inferno. Dante’s book was given to me by Afterlife Enterprises upon my acceptance of the position of Soul Retriever. The book was intended to serve as my guide through the Underground City, even though it was way outdated, and definitely slanted to Dante’s own prejudices at the time, i.e., the fourteenth century. Bill and I had a tough time sifting through Dante’s explanations of each level of the Underground because the Underground City wasn’t comprised of levels at all. Rather, it was laid out just like a city, with buildings, streets, and various “citizens” walking about. Tallis explained the discrepancy by comparing it to our own world—just as Earth evolved over time, so did the Underground City. So today, it was just that—a city. After surviving my first mission, which took us to the Underground City’s carnival of nightmares, I could only wonder what lay in store for us now.
As to Circle Two and what awaited us there, panic started to breed inside my stomach and made me feel like I might throw up. Not to mention the sweat that was already beading along the small of my back and hairline. I not only felt sick, but also clammy and wet. Images of our previous trip to the Underground City suddenly overtook me as memories of the demon clowns, Ragur and Kipur, flashed through my mind. To make a long story short, I’d come very close to losing my life on that trip.
I started to feel faint.
“The sewer,” Tallis replied as he handed the phone back to Bill, although his facial expression was still unreadable. “Circle Two is the sewer aqueduct o’ the Oonderground City.”
“Great,” Bill grumbled as he shook his head. “Love me some shit smell.”
Tallis crossed his arms over his chest and looked my way, appearing preoccupied, like he was pondering something. Then he started to nod as if something were suddenly occurring to him. “The
good news is Ah know a shortcoot inta the sewers,” he started.
I frowned, not seeing why he seemed so pleased with that information. Shortcuts into a death by sewer didn’t exactly cheer me up very much. “Why is that good news?” I asked.
“Aye, ’twill give oos some time,” Tallis responded. “Streethorn believes we have ta traverse the River Acheron ta the aqueduct, a four-day’s journey at the verra least.”
“Four days?” I repeated, my mouth dropping open. The memories of our last voyage through the haunted forest reappeared in my mind. Suffice to say, the expedition to the Underground City was almost as bad as the Underground City itself ...
Tallis shook his head. “Ah can git oos there in one day.”
I was quiet for a moment. Stifling the ray of hope that suddenly blossomed, as Tallis’s words started to register, I cautiously asked, “Does … does that mean you’re going to go back down there with us again?” I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. I was deathly afraid any hopefulness I harbored might suddenly be smashed to smithereens if Tallis said that I’d misunderstood him and he had no plans to escort us anywhere.
Tallis frowned at me. “Aye, lass, ye are hardly prepared ta go; ye jist said so yerself.”
“Thank you,” I answered automatically, completely ignoring the fact that Tallis was regarding me like I was a halfwit. “Just add that cost on to my list of what I already owe you,” I said, reminding myself and Tallis, for that matter, that we still had to account for the ton of money I already owed him. That ton of money had come about because Tallis wasn’t particularly charitable, and therefore, didn’t work for nothing. Instead, we’d agreed to the sum of fifty thousand pounds that I would pay Tallis to accompany Bill and me to the Underground City the first time around. I also promised to pay Tallis for training me in the art of sword fighting, the sum of which now escaped my mind. At any rate, I was sure that the total well exceeded fifty thousand pounds. Luckily for me, Afterlife Enterprises had to foot the bill. And, no, Afterlife Enterprises hadn’t exactly been informed of their involvement in this arrangement, but I didn’t care. After being granted a constantly full bank account as part of my benefits package when I accepted the job, I planned to use that benefit to the nth degree.
“We can discoos the particulars later,” Tallis announced. “For now, we have three days in which ye will do naethin’ boot train with yer sword.”
I swallowed hard and nodded to show my agreement. Even though training with Tallis was no walk in the park, by any stretch of the imagination, at least I’d be spared Ael’s torturous physical boot camp for a few days. Seeing how every one of my muscles was already aching, any reprieve from Ael was a relief in and of itself. Although spending so much time with Tallis didn’t exactly thrill me either. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Tallis … well, sometimes I didn’t—when he was being a jerk, for example. But there were also times when he seemed like he wanted to let me in, as a friend. Still, most often, whenever Tallis and I spent too much time together, we got on one another’s nerves. Big time.
“Shit,” Bill announced with a sigh as he eyed Tallis and frowned. “That means we’re gonna hafta stay in your shitbox accommodations again, doesn’t it?”
Surprisingly enough, a smile broke across Tallis’s face as he turned to me and answered. “Aye, it does.”
***
For the next three days, I trained, and trained, and trained some more. Bill and I stayed in Tallis’s shack and Bill acted like he was on vacation by sleeping in late every morning and going to bed even later. I was up at dawn every day with Tallis’s sword in my face. At the end of the three days, even though I was no master of the sword, I was certainly much better off than before.
The first lesson Tallis taught me, which took me a while to grasp, was simply relaxing. Tallis explained the perils of being tense while in combat and taught me how to control my nerves so I could remain cool and calm at all times. He showed me how to keep my muscles loose by teaching me how to control my breathing. It was like a form of meditation, but meditation for combat purposes. As Tallis explained, if I was too wound up and tight while fighting, I wouldn’t be able to act with speed. And slow reactions could be fatal. I thought about it, and it made sense because when it came to Tallis and his skills, speed was probably number one on the list.
After my lesson in relaxation techniques, we worked on maintaining balance and quick footwork. Tallis taught me to always keep my feet shoulder-width apart, and move with my legs spread without allowing my feet to come close together. My stance was imperative to my equilibrium because without balance, I was as good as dead. Tallis showed me how to slide my feet, rather than lift them, and to keep my posture straight and my chest and torso forward. That was to help me keep my balance whenever I took a swing. We must have practiced the correct fighting posture for half a day.
My next lesson was becoming aware of my surroundings and taking stock of everything around me. Tallis referred to surroundings as my assets and my liabilities. Was the sun behind me or in front of me? Could I use the angle of the sun to blind my enemy? And speaking of the enemy, Tallis told me to watch whomever I was fighting and to take mental notes. Was my opponent cautious or boastful in his attacks? Was he skilled in his approach? Or a novice? Tallis believed that everyone had a fatal weakness and my responsibility was to figure out what that weakness was ...
But perhaps the most important factor in assessing my situation was speediness. I would only have a few seconds to make critical judgments that might doom or save me. After assessing the situation properly, my next lesson was to engage the enemy with care. In general, Tallis thought it best that I wait to be attacked, rather than vice versa. Because I was inexperienced and Tallis would be along for the ride (at least for my next mission), I focused mainly on defensive moves, rather than offensive ones. By engaging defensively, I would be able to maintain control and focus. Tallis spent the first full day of our training just teaching me how to dodge his blows. If that sounds easy, believe me, it wasn’t. I ended up with a vast array of bruises up and down my legs to match the ones on my arms.
Once we reviewed all the defensive strategies until I was blue in the face, we moved on to the offensive ones. Tallis taught me how to keep my opponent “on point,” which meant learning how to extend my sword in a short, quick movement toward my enemy’s throat or eyes. The movement had to be fluid and done in a split second because the goal was to take my enemy by surprise. As Tallis often reiterated, surprise was always an ally in a fight.
When on the defense or the offense, I kept my elbows bent and close to my sides. Tallis explained that inexperienced fighters often stretched their arms out, which only impaired their ability to thrust and parry quickly. It was my sword that needed to be extended toward my enemy, never my arms.
“Measure twice, coot once,” Tallis reminded me as we walked through the Dark Wood. We were now on our way to the sewer aqueduct of the Underground City. After walking for at least four hours, my legs already felt like jelly. The landscape had also changed—the lushness of the forest where Tallis lived having given way to the charcoaled remains of long dead trees.
“Is that like sayin’ two birds in your hand is better than a big ol’ bush?” Bill piped up, chuckling to himself. “Or maybe it’s like killin’ two pigs with one bird?”
I frowned at him and my eyebrows knotted in the middle. “You mean, killing two birds with one stone?”
“Um, no, I don’t,” he answered in a high-pitched, girly voice while fluttering his eyelashes. I had no idea whom he was pretending to be. “I’m talkin’ Angry Birds, yo.”
“Historically speakin’, a sword fight ended with the first blow stroock. It could take only thirty seconds, lass,” Tallis continued as if Bill never interrupted him. “Boot fightin’ demons can be even quicker, Besom, because they possess abilities ye dinnae. Ye moost be quick an’ skilled.”
“Okay,” I said, sighing over the enormous obstacles ahead of me. “Does, um, Donald or
Donnchad or whatever his name is, have any immortal friends who might want to possess me?” I asked jokingly, but then didn’t think it was such a bad idea.
Tallis frowned at me, which, I guessed, meant no. “Ye moost be certain o’ yer aim, fer ’tis verra likely that if ye miss yer first strike, yer enemy will take advantage,” he continued.
“Which means, your enemy will knock you the fuck out!” Bill added before he started punching the air like he was a boxer. “I’m gonna knock you out,” he sang, not sounding a bit like LL Cool J. “Bill said knock you out!”
“Thanks, Bill,” I grumbled as I scanned the forest of dead trees on either side of us. I wanted to make sure that none of the enormous spiders that attacked us the last time were scheduling another visit.
“Seriously, Lils, what is up with Tido and his Jesus shoes?” Bill asked as he indicated Tallis’s brown leather homemade sandals. I was spared the need to answer when Tallis interrupted.
“We have arrived.” He stopped walking and ran his hands over his sword, which was still in its scabbard, looped around his chest. Then he patted his sporran with both hands before dropping his attention to my sword, which was also looped around my chest, in the scabbard Tallis lent me.
“Um, where’s here?” Bill asked with a glance around himself, probably taking note that the forest was exactly the same on both sides as it was a few feet away. Nothing but the hollowed remains of what once appeared to be a thriving forest. As to how the Dark Wood became the Dark Wood, I wasn’t sure. But Dante also referred to it, so I imagined it always looked this way, even back in the fourteenth century.
“The entry ta the short coot,” Tallis answered in an annoyed tone. Without another word, he turned around and walked a few paces forward, his strides long and purposeful, as if he were counting his steps. Dropping down on his haunches, he dug up two palms full of dirt, rising as the soft earth sifted through his fingers. Then he reached beneath his kilt, unintentionally giving me a glimpse of his muscular upper thigh, as he retrieved a blade. He dropped down to his knees and held his right arm out. With no hesitation, he sliced his forearm and blood gushed out, dripping from his arm and sinking into the ground below.