Prologue #2
As the ferry drifted down the River Styx and slowly began its turn onto the River Phlegethon, the black, murky water slowly changed. It smelled of petroleum and the surface burned around the boat. The deeper the boat traveled, the hotter and higher the flames became.
The man peered over the side, straining to see past the inferno that burned before him. He was sure that the flames would consume the boat before they reached their destination.
Yet, the ferry drifted through them, unaffected.
The Harbinger stood as still as death, looking out past the flames. His wings stretched out from his massive back, spanning across the width of the boat, the tips now singed from the flames.
As the boat glided through the river of fire toward its final destination, the man had to know what this creature was that held him.
“Are you death? The grim reaper? The devil?” Black eyes immediately met his.
“For you, I am all those things and more. Your very soul now belongs to me and it is mine to do with as I see fit.” The demon slowly turned back to look at the approaching shore.
“Then you can be bargained with, I would presume.”
No matter their background, each soul he brought across Phlegethon thought that bargaining would gain them passage to another, better place. In the countless millennia that he had been taking souls across, no bargain was ever worth consideration, but all tried.
Again, the creature turned to face the man. This time, his eyes were no longer the black, endless pools that had faced him before. They were now as blue and clear as a summer’s sky. “I have riches beyond your wildest dreams, what could you ever have that I would want?”
The ferry hit the shore with a clank as the ferryman wrapped the chain around a post. At a second glance, it was not a post at all, but a pillar of skulls and bones stacked at the river’s edge.
The creature grabbed the chain that was around the man’s neck and pulled him to his shaky feet.
Fear overcame him and the man’s legs refused to move, his muscles freezing in protest. With a tug of the chain, the man lunged forward, tripping over his own feet into the back of the creature that held him.
This new land made the place they had just come from look like a paradise.
The sky was no longer a swirl of black and red, but an ominous gray-green that kissed the molten landscape; fire and stone encompassing his line of vision.
The creature pulled him toward two massive gates made of human bone.
The screams of pain and despair could be heard beyond the gate.
The man pulled on his chain, begging the hell spawn to stop his forward trek. “Please, again, I beg you. I can give you something no one else can. All I ask is that you let me go here. I’ll make my way on my own.”
The gate and the payment for this soul laid within reach. Yet, something in this human’s voice made him pause. He had been offered everything and anything to bring a soul back, but never had he been asked to just let a soul go. Here at the gate of Nephtal, of all places.
“Why would you have me just let you go? You have crossed over the river of fire, there is no way back. All hope for you is gone.”
“My soul is damned, I know that. But, in there…” he nods his head toward the tall gates, “I won’t be able to even attempt to make up for the sins I have committed.”
The creature pulled the chain, dragging the man’s face up to his own. “There is no do over, your time has come. Your soul has been damned to this place.”
He continued his walk to the massive bone gate, dragging the man behind him; kicking, screaming, and begging to be set free.
Finally reaching the gate, a creature of massive proportions stepped out, pushing the immense gate open. This new monster, an odd combination of wild boar and almost human, stood twice the height of the one who dragged him across the river.
Its skin was black and scaled, appearing almost grey with the dirt caked into his features. Greenish pus oozed from welts around its wrists, ankles, and neck where huge shackles bound the creature to the gate.
“Please, there’s a girl I know you would be interested in.” The man tried to dig his heels into the burnt and smoking ground.
The demon stopped, looked at the man he had chained, and laughed. “A woman? You expect me to let you go by offering me a woman?” He laughed once more, condescendingly, and continued through the gate.
The Harbinger dragged the man passed the gatekeeper to a small tent just on the opposite side and pulled him past the threshold.
Silently, the soul wondered what creature he would see next.
He expected a cloven footed devil or another winged beast, but what sat on the other side of a golden desk was neither of those things.
Leaning casually back in the chair with her perfect, black, stiletto heels crossed on the top of the impressive gold desk was a woman, her make-up and features model perfect. Her long, blonde hair was neatly pulled back in a high ponytail.
She wore a white, button-down shirt that barely closed over her ample breasts and a black pencil skirt. The man eyed the woman and followed the lean curve of her legs to her thigh, revealing the lace at the top of her thigh-high, silk stockings.
She looked like an angel in the otherwise hellish nightmare. She could have been his angel sent from heaven to save his damned soul. But, the fiery glint in her deep brown eyes led him to believe she was anything but the angel he saw seated before him.
She stood as they walked in, giving the creature that dragged his chain a devilish and familiar smile.
“Hello, Harbinger.” Her voice was sultry and oozed sex.
The Harbinger slipped the end of the chain over a six foot tall spike in the ground. “Hello, Pesta. Where’s my payment?”
Pesta tossed a sack of gold onto her desk, continuing to eye the Harbinger that stood in front of her. He reached for the sack of gold but was intercepted by her hand running up the length of his muscular, tattooed arm.
“I’m sure you’ve had a long, hard journey, wouldn’t you rather something a bit softer and hotter than gold to soothe your weary bones?
The offer of my bed isn’t something I give to just any…
man.” She ran her tongue over her perfect, red, glossy lips.
“I’ve told you before, Pesta, I never mix business with pleasure.
” With that, he picked up his bag of gold and turned to leave.
The man he had brought in stepped in front of him, a feeble attempt to block his path. The Harbinger raised his arm to backhand the man out of his way.
The man quickly whispered into the Harbinger’s ear words he never thought he would hear—an offer too good to turn down.
“What’s your name human?”
“It was Laird.”
With his arm poised to strike, he instead flicked the chain off of the spike, leaving the man free to escape into an eternity of pain. The man stood still for a heartbeat, staring into the Harbinger’s still blue eyes. “Well, Laird, I would run if I were you, she’s not as angelic as she looks.”
The Harbinger casually walked out of the tent, past the gate, and back to the ferry, holding out the coin that floated above his hand to Charon.
As the ferry drifted back toward the River Styx, he heard Pesta screaming for someone to stop the man that now ran past the boned gate and into the fiery landscape.
Timoteus folded his wings against his back and relaxed himself into the ferry as it floated back through the fiery river. He reflected on what that man had said. A female Harbinger had never existed, yet he was intrigued by his statement.
“Her name is Jenna, she’s one of you.”