Chapter 7 (Part One. Before the Banishment)

Chapter 7 (Part One: Before The Banishment)


Belial and Lucifer silently strode the busy streets of Hell, the large city neons glared intimately across the cold cobbles.  Every doorway seemed to have a drunk demon sitting on a step drinking their poison like it would be there last.  Neither Belial or Lucifer gave them acknowledgement.

At the end of the long street stood the barracks.  A looming building a dark silhouette, set with gargoyles and gothic arches surrounded by a tall black metallic fence, each cylindrical pole looking like a pike waiting for a head to be set upon it.  There were dim flickering lights in the small windows of the eastern tower, and a glaring beam from the doorway to the main hall 50 yards ahead of them.

Belial Breathed deeply, and began to walk the jagged gravel path, back to the cause of his anxiety.  Back to the tiresome tyrannical suffering that he imposed on his Warriors, and back to the hypocrisy he wielded in the weapon against tyranny.

time seemed to pass as familiarity merged with his thoughts as he trod the marble floor toward the arena in which his warriors trained.  Each warrior wielded two swords, the mark of Belials company.  They were rigorously put through their paces, strained and pushed from the moment they awoke, to the moment that they slept, this made them rugged and very intimidating to look at, each carrying a multitude of scars and fresh cuts mirroring Belials own determination to win this war.

Belial did care, he cared too much.  That was why he left, the stresses and strains of passion aren't always positive.  They can rancour and writhe within you, piercing thought and breath until yo9u no longer live for the fact you are alive.  You live for those that have died around you.  Every wall toward the arena contained monuments to Astaroth and Incubus, the two fallen who's prophecies did them no service, and gave them no victory.

The large thick oak door to the arena opened to reveal a surprisingly still company of men wielding their rapiers in a salute to Belials return.  The hatred came back in floods.  he had never desired to be a leader, just a warrior, he held much contempt for the tribute they were offering him, he never deserved any of it.

Belial picked up two swords from the cabinet beside him.

the arena had changed little, the floor was still the same rusty dirt surrounded by the short metal circular fence where warriors daily would challenge each other to duels and large fights.  The steely black punishment cage still stood prominent at the back, and the walls were still the same dark brown colour of viscous swamp water.

Belial stepped into the middle of the arena and pointed his sword at a young acolyte.  "I have never seen you fight young demon, maybe it's time you illustrated the ways of Belial, against Belial himself."

The young acolyte needed no further invitation, without reluctance he moved to the centre of the ring opposite Belial.  Belial saw in his eyes a confidence and an agression that came with daily sparring.  A long scar cut across his cheek down to his prominent chin.  His oppoent was stocky and blonde with a fierce crimson colour eyes, dressed in the black and red garb of Belials order.  there were no decorations on the acolyte, it seemed he had won very little, but fought very hard, his muscles taut and scarred.  But his confidence was intimidating.

The young acolyte struck first, a swift arc cutr through the air aiming for the left shoulder of Belial.  The acolytes other hand simultaneously lunged forward in a vicious stab toward Belials midriff.  A good start, but one that Belial was equal to.

He dropped his should onto the low blade and ducked past the wild swipe to his left using his free sword to place a gash on the opponents calf.

the blonde demon roared in anger rather than in pain and proceeded to fire a series of fast and wild blows raining in on Belials head.  Again he was equal to this tactic, and move swiftly behind the opponent.  Ordinarily Belial would have thrust his sword through the back of his opponent rendering him immobile until medicine was applied.

Belial simply dropped his sword and swore loudly and violently.  

Lucifer looked at the expression on Belials face and swore weariness and anger there.  

"What is your name?"  Belial roared at the Acolyte.

"Aamon sir."

"Ready yourself weakling, you are coming with me to battle tonight along with your two lieutenants.  That might teach you a thing or two about fighting."  belial strode from the arena.  "You are worthless creatures.  the war is pending and this is the best you could provide in my absence?"  

Lucifer saw Belial leace the arena and just as swiftly, he too was gone.


The End

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