Into The Fire

Into the Fire by James Hampton Belton © 2009 Orlando had been walking across the desert for so long now, he had lost track of the days. He was running out of water, his food was gone, and he was tired. The vision of Ellen in his dark dreams drove him onward despite his discomfort. The morning sun rose in the sky, and the heat began to build. Orlando scanned the horizon, looking for shelter from the blistering furnace. This far out into the wasteland, even the cacti were few and far between. He pulled his hat down on his head and looked eastward, into the sun. On the horizon, he saw a cairn. By the time he reached the stones, he had sweated out what little moisture he had had left in him. His mouth felt like it was as dusty as the track he walked. He dragged himself up the slight slope to the hilltop on which the cairn was built and fell gratefully into its shade. It would give scant shelter at noonday, but for now, he allowed himself to drop off into sleep in its cool shadow. Orlando's dreams were always troubled. As he slept, he saw his sister dressed all in red, standing in the hall of the goblin king, his black hand on her arm. She stared lifelessly, her beautiful face expressionless. Orlando raged against the goblin king, but he was powerless to affect the dream. He awoke when the sun had fallen low in the sky. His throat felt like leather, and sickness, which had washed over him in his sleep, tainted his flesh beneath his dry and cracking skin. He opened his canteen and sipped carefully. The water seemed to absorb into his tissues before it reached his stomach. The waves of nausea abated, and he regained his control. He staggered to his feet, reeling drunkenly, and steadied himself on the stones of the cairn. The track led on. The setting sun at his back cast Orlando's shadow further and further ahead of him, until it was a thin black line on the trail, separating sand and stone lit by the bloody red glow of the sunset. Still Orlando walked on, his boots kicking up the dry dust of the place, tiredly pursuing his vision. Something appeared on the horizon. At first, Orlando thought beyond all hope that he had come upon a human habitation. Then he realized that it was just a rock formation. And then, as he got closer, he realized that the path ran through the middle of a ring of standing stones. The power's of the earth could be dangerous, and Orlando was tempted to go around the ring. He stopped before the two huge pillars that stood like tusks on either side of the narrow track, daring him to cross into the circle. A flicker of motion within brought him fully alert, and he dropped into a crouch, his hand on his weapon. A fire burst into life at the center of the circle. Orlando watched warily as shapes danced within the flames. And then, a form he knew stood among them. Ellen, her body wreathed in fire, beckoned to him. Without thinking, he stepped forward. The vision of his sister remained, but a darker shadow rose up behind the flames, and Orlando felt himself grow cold. “Ellen!” he cried. “She is mine,” said the demon. Its skin was as black as night. It's inky form was silougheted against the standing stones, which were lit by the glow of the fire. Only its eyes glistened in the light.

“No,” said Orlando. “Release her.” “She is beyond this world now,” it said, its voice sounding like the hissing of snakes, the burbling of noxious gasses in a swamp. Orlando drew his blade. The demon laughed, and he saw it had the head of a goat and the body of a man. “I am beyond such things,” it said. “I am immortal.” “What must I do to get Ellen back?” asked Orlando. “There is nothing you can do to bring her back,” it replied, and Orlando felt cold despair well over him. “If you wish to be with her, you must give your soul to me. Release you life, end you grief and suffering on this mortal wiel, and you can be with her.” “Where is she?” asked Orlando. “She is inside the fire,” it replied. Ellen beckoned to him, smiling seductively. Orlando shuddered, both repelled and attracted. He felt the sickness awakening within him. “You are a lost soul. Surrender your life to me, and you can be with her for all time,” said the demon. The sickness rose in Orlando. It overwelmed his humanity, tearing at his soul, filling him with self loathing. He felt all expression leave his face, turning it to stone and the madness filled him. The demon must have seen it burning in his eyes, howling in his soul. “No!” it said. “This cannot be.” Orlando laugh, and it came out as a horrible, deep throated chuckle. The demon quailed back from him, and the fire went out. He found he could see perfectly well in the darkness. The demon was trapped by the ring of standing stones, and had backed to the very edge of the circle. He took a step toward it and the darkness broke free of him and smashed the demon, tearing at it. For just a moment, it stood against the onslaught, then shredded like paper and dissapeared, keening faintly. Orlando felt the power leave him, and he crumpled to the ground at the center of the circle. He could no longer see anything; even the stars were lost to his sight. Unconciousness rose and he fought it weakly before succumbing to it. *** When he awoke, the sky was lightening in the east. The circle was overgrown with desert grasses, the standing stones fallen and weathered. Where the demon had made its last stand, he saw the bleached skull of a goat, tangled in the weeds. As he lay still, a hare hopped into the clearing, its nose twitching at the smell of him. The sight of game roused his hopes. He reached for his sword, and lifted a blade shrunken and blunted by rust. The hare ran from the clearing. No matter, he realized, he could smell water on the air. He stood and saw the dessert transformed. It was not the lush green of his homeland, but there was life here once more. In the distance, he could see trees. Stepping out between the two stones that remained upright, he continued east, toward the land of the goblins. Soon he would stand before Arawn; soon he would have Ellen back.