The War of All Wars Read online

  Nemis had begun this conversation by asking, Baltor…what do you think about the idea of me using my time-freeze scroll as soon as we arrive in the throne room? It may stop the angels, and possibly this next Arch? Remember though it may not work at all, as we both know that time simply doesn’t exist in many hells.

  He responded, Excellent idea! Can’t hurt to try.

  She replied, Thanks…I agree too. How much longer do you think this ride will last?

  He was about to answer, but just then, most unexpectedly, the river split into two different directions—down-right and down-left. They had no choice which direction to choose as the water had already pushed them to the left; and only minutes later, this new waterslide transformed into a waterfall that proved to be “bottomless!”

  I don’t know, became Baltor’s response. Patience is a virtue.

  True, true.

  And bottomless this steady-and-solid waterfall remained for the next two weeks: until finally, they splashed into a twenty-foot deep pool of water and crashed into the fortified concrete below it.

  Unaffected by the fall, it was only then that they stopped holding each other’s hands, so that they could swim up to the surface. They did.

  After swimming outside of the foamy spray from the waterfall, they both began to look around as they floated in the middle of the fifty-foot wide river, which river flowed in two different directions at the very same time.

  One way was toward the heart of the city that was forty thousand miles in diameter, filled with skyscrapers on both sides that were all made of a reflective black glass…a few of them reached five miles tall! Of course, there were thousands of metallic bridges linking the two halves of the city. Furthermore, there was an equally powerful waterfall on the far, far, far side.

  The other way this river flowed was toward the very borders of the city, which was only about ten thousand feet away from their current location as the water continuously poured off the edge. Beyond the city was blackness.

  In fact, that same blackness consumed the skies, except for the one dull, red sun that hovered over the center of the city. In other words, “a very dark and shadowy environment” was presented overall, especially the further you were away from the center.

  In the smack center of the city, there stood a white-bricked castle that stood at ten miles tall and fifty miles away.

  Chaotically spread everywhere and flying all about on feathery wings were hosts of anti-angels—they looked exactly like angels, both male and female, but all possessed angry-looking faces, and all wore black robes and halos. Unlike any of the previous cities of Hell they had explored, however, there were no strange monsters or black-robed figures walking about—no one but the anti-angels.

  Unfortunately, neither Baltor nor Nemis had enough time to take a closer look at anything, to try and hide on land, or to do anything at all; for only two seconds after their heads peaked above the waters, two angels that had been flying about two thousand feet away instantly spotted them!

  Already were those angels flying toward their location at their top speed of forty miles per hour, while simultaneously calling out, “Hosts—hear our voice and gather here—get the intruders! Kill them.”

  Using telepathy, Baltor said as fast he could, We’ve got twenty seconds until those first two angels arrive, so listen up. I’m going to teleport us directly to the Arch, wherever he is…hopefully in the throne room. Once we’re there, protect my back while I fight him and rip his heart out…cool?

  Cool… she telepathically said, although she physically gulped down all her fears.

  By the time he had finished speaking, he had already visualized the image of Phistopheles and received his rune—he straightaway began to draw it out into the air, with his left-index finger.

  Only five seconds before those two angels arrived with glowing-black swords cocked back in order to swing and kill, a portal opened up halfway in the middle of the river.

  In the next moment, Nemis swam through the portal with Baltor following right behind—once on the other side, he instantly willed shut the portal still flooding out water. There was no turning back now.

  Now, they were inside an even-larger-than-the-last throne room, which had a disgusting-looking throne sitting in the middle about two miles away, made entirely of bloodied-up human body parts that were moving all around, including heads—sitting in the throne was a six-hundred-foot-tall version of the holographic image he had seen—Phistopheles!

  In a voice that sounded just like ear-popping thunder, Phistopheles called out, “Kill them.”

  Baltor’s swords were already in hand, swords forced to deflect dozens of angelic swords flying from all directions—the angels did not just swing his or her swords, yet had also begun throwing them like spears!

  All around his body could be seen small bolts of lightning, which weren’t actually lightning bolts, but a result of his swords contacting and deflecting all the other metallic swords. All the while, he—step by step—made his way toward the throne.

  At the same time, Nemis continued utilizing her martial-arts skills—rolls, kicks, punches, blocks, etc.—frequently she used her staff like a weapon in deflecting those swords flying her way.

  On the thirty-first second of combat, all the while still fighting the angels, Nemis asked frantically, Baltor…watch my back so I can read that scroll…okay?

  While fighting his most-fiercest battle in his entire life, Baltor answered, Gotcha…I’ll protect you!

  With that, she stopped in her tracks, knelt to the ground, and furiously began to dig in her magic pocket for her scroll. Meanwhile, he stood right over her, and continued to protect them both from the swarms of angels that were all trying to obliterate the two of them into oblivion.

  Upon locating the scroll, nearly ten action-packed seconds later, she pulled it out, unrolled it, and began reading it aloud.

  Forty equally-action-packed seconds later, she completed it, and the scroll dissipated into a cloud of ashes.

  In the next moment, every single angel froze in his or her tracks, whether on the ground or in the air, as did the angels’ swords freeze—only she and Baltor could move!

  Oh, and one other individual still moved about—Phistopheles. In the next moment he was already on his feet with his hundred-foot-long sword drawn, just before he roared aloud, “You sneaky little asses—what the hell have you done to my forces?”

  Baltor answered nonchalantly, “What needed to be done, Your Arch-Devil.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “In a nutshell, Arch-Devil Phistopheles,” Baltor answered, using the same tones. “We got two choices here, as I see it. One, I can rip out your heart, kill you, and open the portal, so that me and my friend can get to the next plane of hell, which is all we really want to do. Or…two, you can peacefully allow us to pass.”

  Phistopheles snarled aloud, “What business do you have in any plane of hell without permission?”

  “My business is to rescue two friends of ours on a higher plane of hell than yours…you already know why, at least in my case.”

  “Once a living person with a soul has died, and comes here, that soul belongs to us forever…there’s no way of changing around that ‘golden rule!’”

  “Ah,” Baltor sighed, “That’s exactly the problem, your Lordship—the two friends I’m talking about never died…instead, they were magically teleported here as prisoners.”

  Not sounding angry anymore, but instead uncaring, Phistopheles stated, “I see…and why should I give a damn about your two friends, or even the two of you for that matter?”

  “Because…if you don’t let us go, your angels will permanently be statues…”

  “What? You don’t have that power!”

  “You think I’m bluffing? Screw this, sir…let’s go! You’re going to die…even if for only a minute! Trust me that I will make it the most painful minute you’ve ever experienced in your life…”

  With that, Ba
ltor began to zoom toward Phistopheles at the speed of shadow—between all the frozen angels! He estimated it would take him two minutes to reach the Arch-Devil, which meant that the angels would then be unfrozen.

  Even though Phistopheles continued to remain unafraid, for the first time in his entire existence did he feel “a deep and cold human chill” crawl up and down his spine. The remote possibility entered his supra-intelligent head that this more-than-human creature might not be bluffing!

  Ten seconds later, he lowered his sword before calling out, “Whoa—whoa—whoa. Hold on now…let us be reasonable together.”

  Baltor stopped in his tracks and listened, but he did not sheath his swords, nor did he look happy at all. He looked furiously determined!

  Phistopheles continued, “If you release my angels, I will no longer have them attack—”

  At that moment in time, because it was sixty seconds after the spell had first started, it ended—the angels were no longer frozen in place.

  Seeing that his angels now moving around, Phistopheles said, “Thank you… Hosts, return to your posts!”

  While the angels returned to their posts, Baltor switched to telepathy as he answered in respectful tones, Your Lordship, you are most welcome.

  Phistopheles said, Ah, the notorious Sultan Baltor Elysian…I’ve heard about you, although I’ve never seen your face, which is why I did not recognize you and ordered my angels to attack…my apology.

  After nodding his head one time, Baltor said, No apologies needed, sir. Well, we must be off as we are on a time crunch. Will you now please open the gate to the next plane of hell?

  Yes…I will open it now. Once you leave, ensure that you do not come back ever again, unless it is to stay here forever.

  Without any further delay, Phistopheles flipped a little switch on his throne—it began to slide to the side. Underneath where the throne had originally been, there existed another hole, in which they heard underneath the sounds of rushing water. Baltor and Nemis were already walking toward the hole, hand in hand.

  En route, Phistopheles said telepathically, Good luck with your quest, although I doubt you’ll be successful. What you’re doing is a “fool’s quest” going against impossible odds.

  Having switched back to verbal, Baltor replied, “We’ve been quite successful so far.”

  Now bearing a small devilish smile, Phistopheles answered, “That is true…good point.”

  Returning a wicked-looking smile, Baltor added, “And trust me that we have many more powerful cards up our sleeves we haven’t even begun to use…although the card we used today on your angels was the most powerful one we had in our arsenal!”

  Phistopheles laughed, “Touché!”

  Now sounding confused, Baltor asked, “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a French word from the planet Earth, used in verbal and/or fencing contests, which basically means, good strike or good one…”

  “Thanks for that little lesson, Your Lordship.”

  By this time, he and Nemis had arrived at the hole—Baltor looked back and could now see deep into Phistopheles’ pitch-black eyes on his black-bearded face, and vice-versa.

  He could have jumped into the hole, but chose not to. Instead, he continued to look Phistopheles right in the eyes, as he said, “Well, Your Lordship, the time has come for us to say our farewells.”

  Phistopheles nodded his head before replying, “I suppose it has, Baltor. One final thing…if you ever want a job working for me as the head of my security, let me know—I like your fearless style.”

  “Thank you for that proposal and that compliment, Your Lordship. I will take it all under consideration once I have fulfilled my mission. Good day to you!”

  “And an evil day to you,” Phistopheles concluded, just before Baltor and Nemis jumped into the hole and they were flushed away down the waterslide.

  This waterslide lasted for nearly a month’s worth of time, in which there were dozens of periods where they moved at speeds greater than ten thousand miles per hour.

  CHAPTER VII

  Once that scarier-than-hell timeframe had ended, they were both blasted into the next level of hell—this time, the watery river dumped right off into a huger-than-huge lake of steaming lava about a thousand feet below the tunnel’s mouth! Of course, this was all possible due to the temperatures that remained two thousand degrees plus, the water evaporated long before it could reach the lava-lake that spanned for tens of thousands of square miles…

  It was most fortunate that Baltor had managed to brace his two feet and free hand onto the tailpipe’s exit, or there might have been some major problems for the two upon landing in the lava—if not death! Just as fortunate, Nemis wore her black cape that protected her body.

  While holding onto her hand as she dangled below, Baltor telepathically said, Pull out the carpet, so we can fly on that.

  Okay…

  Because she had but one free hand, it took nearly five minutes of time before she was successful with this difficult feat.

  After she had climbed in front of the now floating carpet, he climbed in back—without any further delay, by her willpower, the carpet flew out the tunnel’s mouth.

  Already had they observed and noted that hell completely existed in an underground environment, comprised mostly of rivers and lakes filled with flowing lava—intermittently spread here and there were small-to-medium-sized landing strips of steaming magma that chaotically jutted above the level of the flowing streams. Can’t forget to mention the countless amounts of souls swimming in that lava. They howled and screamed away at the top of their lungs, over and over again! For the moment, there were no demon-guards or monsters posted anywhere they looked.

  Through the gut-wrenching noise, including the sounds of fire crackling and boiling steam, Baltor heard Nemis’ voice excitedly say in his head, If you’ll recall when we first met and I told you my story—this is the very hell my mother was cast into! She’s got to be here somewhere.

  He answered back, I remember.

  She added, Also, for your information, unless things have changed, this is the same hell where Arch-Devil Refisol exists…

  Baltor’s mind reversed the letters, getting “Losifer.” Only a second later, he asked, Oh yeah? Good to know.

  So we should just call out his name…per Tiamat’s instructions, yes?

  Umm, ya. But before we do, I have a question.

  Yes?

  Do you feel confident that the Arch will release your mother to us?

  After sucking in a deep breath and releasing it, a worried expression crossed her face. She said, I hope so.

  While nodding his head, Baltor replied, Sometimes hope is all we got…

  You’re right…

  He delivered a heartfelt smile before he asked aloud, “Well…should you or should I?”

  “I will handle this one.”

  “Okay.”

  Nemis yelled out, “Arch-Devil Losifer! My friend and I come in peace…we need to speak with you about an extremely important matter! We know about the Vompareus, and their threat to all our universes, realms, heavens, and hells. It is only a matter of time before they are successful with their quest, and then they shall take over everything.”

  After a short pause without interruption of any kind, including from the arrival of the Arch-Devil, she continued, “My friend and I need to pass through until we reach the final plane of hell. It is there that we shall rescue his friend and mentor, Trendon Harrn, so that he and Sultan Baltor Elysian can re-trap the Vompareus back into the Realm of Darkness. Please, Losifer, come to us, so we can share a little talk…I have something else I’d like to ask you about.”

  Most unexpectedly, an atomic bomb exploded about two thousand feet from their position—still facing the explosion Baltor rose to his feet on the carpet, and drew his swords.

  Once that explosion had dissipated, which blast radius hadn’t hurt either Baltor nor Nemis, there stood a seventy-five-foot tall humanoid of a mascul
ine angel with feathery wings that glowed black—on his head was a most-beautiful crown made of platinum and titanium, which crown contained a vast array of imbedded jewels! Inscribed on the front of the crown was the title and name: “Lord of Lords—Losifer”

  Instantly, all the souls began to bow before this Arch-Devil, sinking their heads below the lava lake…meanwhile, Losifer hissed like a menacing snake, Yes…?

  Nemis answered, “Lord of Lords, in a nutshell, my name is Nemis Harr’n. My mother’s name is Gylva’stes Harr’n. The last I knew, she was on your Plane. I was wondering if I could get her back?”

  Losifer replied telepathically, I know…she’s still here, residing in my palace. I will assist the two of you to the next plane, as I am symbiotic to your cause—Tiamat and I had nice lunch yesterday, and she said you two would soon be arriving. But, what do you have to offer in exchange for your mother’s life and soul—she is very much of value to me, as very-very-very rare is the occasion to acquire such a good soul?

  Now sounding worried, Nemis asked, “What do you want?”

  Hmm…I don’t know. How about after the two of you are all done with your escapade, you give me one thousand years of voluntarily service, Nemis? At the end of a millennium, you get your life and your years back…your mother will be freed the second you agree to my deal.

  “Why do you want me?”

  While sniffing the air, Losifer answered, Why not? I like the way you smell…very delicious…so do we have a deal?

  Switching to telepathy, Nemis answered, First of all, no kinky stuff…sorry but not going to happen. Second of all, I need to see my mother before you release her, which leads to my third condition, I will be teleporting with her back to her home—once I’m confident that she’s safe and comfy inside, I want to come right back here so that I can continue to help Baltor with his quest…deal?

  Even though Baltor had wanted to object to the amount of years she would have to spend here—an entire millennium—the truth of the matter was that he could not. Not that he couldn’t-couldn’t, but felt that he shouldn’t-couldn’t get involved with this deal. After all, in the end, she would be getting all her years back. However, she had to know that she would not be able to see her mother again in life, as elves only lived a millennium-and-a-half at best.