Qing’s fingers traced the unyielding haft of his glaive as his eyes roamed around the surrounding jungle. It enveloped them like a living, breathing entity that seemed to resist their every step. Ahead, Jenny’s axes flashed in what muted sunlight had found its way through the canopy, carving a path through the dense foliage. Her laughter, punctuated by the thud of falling vines, echoed back to the group, grating on Qing’s nerves.

“By the gods, I love this thing!” she said. “It’s like cutting through butter!”

“I’m oh so happy for you,” Qing said, turning to scan the stretched-out line of their party. The vulnerability of their position gnawed at him. He could blast through the jungle with magic, but even with his regeneration, the cost in mana would add up, and he refused to leave them defenseless if real danger struck.

With a slap, he squashed an insight using his forehead as petrol station, splattering the fat bug. The jungle pulsed with life around them. Chattering creatures hidden in the canopy, the distant roars of unseen beasts, and the constant, maddening whine of insects filled the air. Yet, aside from mosquitoes the size of small birds, Qing hadn’t actually spotted a single animal. Yet the hairs on the back of his neck refused to settle. Something was watching them, he was sure of it.

Their group of thirty trudged on. Jenny led, with Qing not far behind. Knut, Rowan, and Aria secured the rear, while Morgana and Ghida guarded the middle with Queen Ruqiya. The sailors they’d brought from the ship were scattered throughout, lugging supplies and looking increasingly uneasy. Cedric refused to take orders and wandered along the line as he pleased.

“You’ll never get away with this,” Captain Thundershield’s voice cut through the jungle sounds. “You’ll die a mutineer’s horrible death. Blood will run from every orifice in your body, and—”

A meaty thud silenced him, and Qing turned to look.

Morgana stood over the captain, her fist still clenched. “Shut up,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “The louder you are, the less chance we have of survival.”

She turned to the sailors carrying the log to which Thundershield was bound.

After the captain’s second escape attempt, they’d decided walking privileges were off the table.

“The men won’t stand for this treatment. They are loyal—”

“You just lost speaking privileges,” Morgana said, stuffing a gag into her father’s mouth.

Qing nodded approvingly as sweat trickled down his back. The humidity was oppressive, even in just a shirt. He marveled at Jenny’s resilience, still clad in full plate armor.

A piercing shriek split the air. Qing whirled, glaive raised, but saw nothing. The entire column froze, eyes wide and searching.

“It’s nothing. Keep moving,” Qing said after a moment. “And the faster we move, the faster we’ll be out of this jungle.”

A sailor near the back snorted. “As if hurrying to enter Hell is supposed to motivate us.”

“You think it’ll be worse than this?” another asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Quiet.” Rowan’s sergeant’s voice cut through the murmurs, silencing them effectively.

Then, between one chop of Jenny’s axes and another, the jungle gave way to a clearing. Qing froze, his hand shooting up, fist closed, halting the column. Before them stretched an area the size of a city block, filled with what looked like statues.

But these were no ordinary statues. Massive boars with quills like spears, apes that dwarfed any human, fangs long as daggers, panthers with nine tails, they all stood frozen in poses of terror. Serpents, vultures, and bizarre hound-like creatures completed the macabre menagerie.

The acrid stench hit Qing as he stepped into the clearing, burning his nose like ammonia. It was as if the statues had been recently cleaned, yet they looked ancient. Every single one faced the same direction, towards the looming mountain on the horizon, split down the middle as if cleaved by a giant’s axe.

“What could have done this?” Qing asked as Cedric materialized beside him, humming softly.

“Hell,” Cedric said.

“Here?”

“Its influence is seeping into the world,” the wizard said.

“Could they be from the first incursion into Hell? Back when they locked the Devil away?”

“Doubtful,” Cedric said and strode to a petrified panther, striking one of its tails with his staff. The appendage snapped off, crumbling to dust as it hit the ground.

“See?” Cedric said. “These are too fragile to have lasted hundreds of years. We’re close enough to Sylvanwatch that they would have discovered this, yet not a single statue looks touched.”

Queen Ruqiya joined them, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Whatever caused this must be related to the destruction of the castle,” she said. It was the most she’d contributed since they’d left the ship.

“Maybe,” Cedric said. “I fear the barrier to Hell is thinning. The closer we get to the mountain, the worse it will get.”

Qing’s hand rested on a monstrous ape, its arms raised as if trying to ward off some unseen horror. “Any chance we’ll end up like these?”

Cedric peered into the statue’s eyes, his brow furrowed. “I feel no lingering magic. The area seems…safe. It could be a random release of pent up energy bursting out here, petrifying them all.”

“Maybe a demonic monster scared them all to death,” Jenny said, walking up and kicking an ape to dust.

Ruqiya turned to Qing. “What have you brought my daughter and me into?”

Qing met her eyes unflinchingly. “That which is necessary.”

“You do not seem to value her life.”

“I do. More than you know. But it is the privilege and the responsibility of the strong to protect the weak,” Qing said, ending the conversation with a gesture for Jenny to lead the column through the petrified statues.

As the men carried Captain Thundershield by, his eyes locked onto Qing’s, burning with hatred. Qing responded with a grin, tapping his forehead in a mock salute.

I wonder what awaits that man in Hell.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

As they pushed back into the jungle, it seemed to close in around them even tighter, and the air grew so thick it felt like a soup. Each breath became a struggle for the party, and the laboured breathing sounded loud.

Suddenly, the undergrowth around them erupted in a frenzy of motion.

“Monster vines!” Jenny said, her voice nearly drowned out by the men’s terrified shrieks.

Thick, ropey vines, their surfaces covered in razor-sharp barbs, lashed out with terrifying speed. In seconds, five members of their party were ensnared, being dragged into the jungle.

Qing’s hand shot out, grabbing the sailor next to him.

He couldn’t risk an Arcane Explosion. The sailors weren’t exactly volunteers here, and the system might identify them as enemies, like it had done with the prisoners inside the Augrian Pyramid. The man in his grasp writhed in agony as the vine’s barbs cut apart his flesh.

With a grunt of effort, Qing yanked the sailor towards him, simultaneously swinging his glaive in a wide arc. The magical weapon sliced through the vine, but the damage was done. As the man collapsed against him, his wound showed the white bone of his arm.

To his left, Morgana’s repeating crossbow clicked, repeatedly. Bolts whistled through the air, and one even severed a vine.

“You have to help get Jimmy and Umbagu back!” a sailor shouted, staring into the jungle where two men had disappeared.

Qing stepped forward, but the screams of the men suddenly cut off, and an eerie silence descended, broken only by the soft thud of severed vines hitting the forest floor and the groaning of the wounded. He halted, knowing it was already too late for Jimmy and Umbagu.

Knut appeared at his side, his face grim. “Is there anything here not trying to actively kill us?” he asked.

“If saving the world was easy, everyone would be doing it,” Qing said, but he couldn’t force any levity into his tone.

Knut’s brow furrowed. “That makes no sense.”

“I know,” Qing admitted with a sigh. “It was one of my father’s favorite sayings, and I can’t think of anything actually appropriate to say about this hellhole.”

“This isn’t even hell,” Knut said, his voice low.

“As if I need reminding,” Qing said, turning his attention to the injured sailor. He drew down energy from above and cast Divine Light. The flesh of his mangled arm knit together slowly, but finally the blood stopped flowing, and the man’s breathing evened.

“Thank you,” the sailor said, sitting up and weakly flexing his healed arm.

“Welcome. God knows we need to stick together in this place.”

As they pressed on, the jungle seemed to grow more malevolent with each step, and any time the canopy offered a glimpse of the sky, the split mountain loomed larger. The very air felt hostile, and strange, and the column huddled closer, every shadow seeming to hide a potential threat.

As they trudged on, Qing’s skin prickled with an unseen energy, and he looked to the side of the path. The air seemed to shimmer. He blinked, wondering if he was simply tired, but then he felt it expand. “Watch out!” he said, reaching for a sailor walking past, but in an instant, the shimmer expanded out to touch the man. Ruqiya screamed as the man’s body began dissolving, particles floating away like dust in the wind. Qing lunged, pulling the man back, but his arm, neck and head had already vanished.

“Dimensional rifts,” Cedric said, walking up to shake his head at the bloody mess by Qing’s feet. “The barrier between worlds is weaker than I thought.”

Qing stood at the edge, his heart pounding, an impotent rage growing in his chest. “Stay on the path!” he said through gritted teeth. “Keep a single, god damn, file!”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of constant vigilance and mounting dread. There was a wrongness in the air that set Qing’s teeth on edge. By the time the light faded, everyone was jumping at the slightest sound or movement.

“We make camp here,” Qing announced as they reached a small clearing. “Jenny, Rowan, start clearing the area. Ghida, Ruqiya, we’ll handle the fire.”

Qing walked in expanding circles, casting Firebolt, incinerating the vegetation in a wide circle around them. The smell of burning foliage filled the air as Ghida and Ruqiya joined in, their combined efforts creating a flat and bug-free ground to camp on.

With grim efficiency, they set about fortifying their position. Qing’s glaive flashed in the fading light as he felled trees, imbuing each stroke with Smite. The sailors, fear overruling their exhaustion, worked hard, digging the logs into the ground to form a crude palisade.

Cedric stood off to the side, gazing at the mountain, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the staff, small sparks of magic flickering with each strike.

Is he filled with dread or yearning? His entire life, he’s worked to fight evil. For the first time, he gets to take the fight to them. Or is he afraid of what awaits on the other side?

Qing approached him, wiping sweat from his brow. “Cedric, we could use your help with the defenses.”

The wizard’s eyes flicked to Qing, a flash of disdain crossing his features before being replaced by a neutral mask. “Spend my mana to make camp? Have you lost your mind?”

Qing felt his jaw clench. “Every pair of hands helps.”

“And these hands are conserving energy to do the work a thousand men cannot. Do not weaken them on tasks lesser men can accomplish with a bit of sweat.”

“You know what I think, Cedric?”

“I am sure you will tell me.”

“I think you regenerate mana just fine, and all this talk of conservation is a thin excuse for laziness.”

A thin smile curled Cedric’s lips. “Laziness?” he asked. “Did our fight with Wazir teach you nothing? Send a thousand men against someone like him, and they would be crushed like ants. No. It took our combined magical power to bring him down. A warrior does not chop wood with his longsword, nor does a general use his mages to set camp.”

“We are all equal, Cedric.”

The wizard snorted. “A noble sentiment. Naïve, but noble.” He stared into Qing’s eyes, and he had to fight not to break the man’s gaze. “I have seen empires rise and fall, boy. I have watched generations live and die. These are all mayflies to me, brief sparks in the dark. What matters is the mission.”

“So we’re all expendable to you?” Qing asked.

“Expendable? Yes, of course.” Cedric said with a smile. “But more than that, you are necessary. Each has a part to play, a purpose to fulfill. But make no mistake. To succeed in your quest you have to willingly sacrifice any and all of them.”

“You are wrong,” Qing said. But part of him knew it was a wish more than a conviction.

“In time we will see,” Cedric said, and turned to gaze at the mountain once more. “But what we will not see is the last living member of the Kine Ashguard setting camp.”

As night fell, the jungle came alive with new sounds – screeches, howls, and other noises kept people staring into the foliage. The fires in the center of their camp seemed pitifully small against the vast darkness that pressed in on all sides.

As the night deepened, Qing organized the watch rotations. “Morgana, you take first watch with Aria,” he said. “Rowan, we’ll do the second with Ruqiya. Jenny, grab Knut and Ghida for the third.”

Jenny’s brow furrowed. “What about the wizard?” she asked, jerking her head towards Cedric.

Qing’s lips tightened. “He won’t stand watch. But wake him if there’s an attack,” he replied. “He’ll have to fight then.”

With the camp as secure as they could make it, Qing finally allowed himself to rest. He lay on his bedroll, the incessant buzz of insects and the crackle of the fire filling his ears. The smell of smoke and damp vegetation filling his nose.

Despite his exhaustion, sleep eluded him. His mind raced with questions and concerns.

What will Hell be like? Do they know we are coming? Did they send the Kraken to stop us, or was it just pure bad luck?

He tossed and turned.

From the book of the Ashen Witch we know humans can survive in hell. They spent eight days there, fighting their way through legions of demons. Will those be there waiting for us at the entrance now?

Then Qing’s thoughts turned to King Sharyar. By now, he should be sending troops through, creating a diversion to draw attention away from Qing’s group.

How effective will it be? How much can demons see of the mortal world?

Cedric claimed he could smell agents of evil, but given his performance so far, Qing wasn’t inclined to put much faith in that ability.

The thoughts chased each other around Qing’s head until, finally, exhaustion claimed him.

A few moments later, Morgana’s hand on his shoulder jolted him awake for his watch.

Groggily, Qing rose and began his circuit of the camp. Queen Ruqiya fell into step beside him, while Rowan took the opposite side of the perimeter.

As they walked, Qing studied Ruqiya out of the corner of his eye. The queen’s face was drawn, her eyes sunken with fatigue. Yet there was a determined set to her jaw that spoke of an inner strength, and she still radiated beauty.

“How are you holding up, fighting to rid yourself of the green dragon’s addition?” Qing asked, breaking the silence.

Ruqiya’s hand unconsciously went to her chest, rubbing as if trying to scrub away an invisible stain. “Every waking moment, my skin itches,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It only stops when I’m in the arms of my love.”

Qing nodded. “Yeah, you and Knut seem to have reconnected well,” he observed. The Queen had barely left Knut’s side since being reunited.

A small smile flickered across Ruqiya’s face. “We have a decade to make up for,” she said. Then her expression hardened. “But that is not my interest. Tell me instead of your plans for my daughter.”

Oh.