The baby whirls, and of course it isn’t my brother. I knew as soon as the shout left my lips that it wasn’t. It’s the same general size as Art, but green, with lice for hair, fire in its eye sockets and small mouths in the palms of its hands — the demon I saw when I first came to Lord Loss’s world.

The hell-child spits out a mouthful of webs and hisses at me. I glare at him, hating him for not being Art, for raising my hopes and then dashing them. Not afraid. Despite the fact that I’m not much of a fighter, I’m confident that I can take this demon. He ran once already, which makes me suspect he’s not the bravest of his kind.

“Come here,” I mutter, stepping towards the hell-child, thinking he might know the way out. The demon shows his teeth and takes his own menacing step forward. But then he hesitates, glances around, and darts away.

I grin viciously. I’m through being meek Kernel Fleck, unable to take care of himself. It’s time for payback. With a wild whoop of abandonment, I give chase.

I race through the maze, hot on the demon’s heels, reckless with excitement. Taking corners without slowing, I bounce off the webby walls more than once, stick for a few seconds, then tear myself free. The hell-child squeals as he runs. That goads me on, makes me eager to catch up with him. The loneliness and uncertainty have vanished. The chase is everything.

I almost catch the demon a couple of times, when he hits walls and sticks to them. But he pulls free each time and escapes. His back and shoulders are covered in webs. I’m caked with them too, but I don’t stop to wipe them away.

The demon disappears around a corner to my right. When I turn, I see we’re at the start of an extra long path, and at the end of it... light! Too soon to tell if it’s daylight or the light of a fire. Maybe it’s the glow of some demon. But I race towards it regardless, focusing more on the light than the hell-child now, anxious to leave the darkness behind.

Almost at the end of the path. I can tell now that the light is coming from overhead and it seems to be widespread. A dull, yellowish light.

The hell-child darts out of the maze and off to the left, out of sight. I’m at the exit a few seconds later. I pause before stepping out, in case it’s a trap. I let the light of the marble fade, then replace it in my pocket. I flex my fingers — nervous now that I’ve stopped — and cautiously nudge out.

A rocky landscape. There are lots of hills and mounds, and steam spurts out of the ground in many places. The stench of sulphur is thick in the air. In the near distance runs a river of bubbling lava. I know what it is because I’ve been to museums and seen videos of volcanic eruptions. I can’t see the source of the river, but it can’t be far away, since the lava’s red-hot and liquid, flowing swiftly.

I spot the hell-child running towards the river. I’d like to explore, but I’ve got to maintain my focus and keep up the chase. Perhaps the demon knows where Dervish and Shark are, or Cadaver. Maybe he’s Cadaver in disguise!

The hell-child reaches the river of lava and stops. Turns and faces me. Squealing louder than ever, head thrown back. I close in on him, ready for him to break left or right, trying to outguess him.

The demon stops squealing and glares at me. He looks like he plans to attack, but then, surprising me, he takes a step back — onto the river of lava. Steam rises from the demon’s feet, and seconds later they burst into flames. But the hell-child only laughs and blows on them, extinguishing the fire. With a grin at me, he skips across the forty or fifty feet width of the river, jumping off at the other side, only the top of his head visible now.

I stop at the lava’s edge. The heat is incredible. I feel my skin redden. I use magic to cool it, but even with the help of magic it’s hard to bear. I stare at the lava uncertainly. If the hell-child was able to skip across, I probably can too. But what if I can’t? What if my magic fails me? If I venture out onto the lava, and things take a turn for the worse, I’m finished. This body will rot away and Lord Loss will imprison my soul.

Trying to work up the courage to test the lava. I look left and right, in case there’s some other way to cross, like a bridge or tunnel — but there’s nothing. The river stretches as far as I can see in either direction.

As I’m looking around, my eyes flick up, to see what the sky i

s like. But instead of a sky, I find myself gazing at the hideous face of Lord Loss! It’s huge, filling my entire field of vision. He’s laughing, though I can’t hear him. I freeze, horrified by his immense red eyes, the pores and cracks in his skin, which look like moon craters and valleys when magnified to this extent. Then he pulls back and Beranabus replaces him. He’s almost as ugly when seen from this perspective.

The magician is shouting at me, pointing with a finger the size of a battering ram. It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s gesturing to a spot behind me — trying to warn me! I whirl defensively but too late. I catch sight of a winged demon with a red, lumpy body, hurtling at me through the air. I duck instantly, but the demon has judged its flight perfectly. It hits me hard in the chest, driving me off my feet, backwards — into the river of molten lava.

MARBLEOUS

SEARING heat. I scream and thrash, splashing lava up into the air. I go under, immersed in the fiery liquid, feeling it fill my mouth, nose, ears, burning away the soft flesh of my lips and ear lobes, destroying my eyelids, setting to work on the jellylike globes of my eyes.

I come up. Spit out lava. Scream again, tongue crackling, throat pinched tight, sizzling eyes wide with terror. I don’t try using magic to protect myself. Panic has taken over. I’m helpless. Caught by the river. Lost.

I start to sink. My legs kick out automatically, like when I’m swimming, to keep my head up. Gasping for air. I feel my toes burning away, and the acid of the lava eats its way through the wall of my stomach. A few more seconds and it’ll all be over. I’ll just be scraps of flesh and bone smeared across the surface of the river — then nothing.

I hear a shout to my left, but I’m not able to look over. I’m going under. No lower legs left to kick with. Bones are showing through the flesh of my fingers. The skin of my throat is peeling back like burning paper.

Then hands snake around the remains of my chest and I’m hauled out of the lava. My lidless eyes focus blearily. It’s a woman, her face contorted by my ruined eyes. She’s yelling, but my ears are full of lava. I can’t hear what she’s saying.

The woman pulls what’s left of me out of the river and races with me to the edge, dumping me on hard, cold land. Falls beside me, her feet and shins on fire. She slaps at the flames, then stops, stares, quenches them with magic.

I’m bubbling away to nothing beside her, covered with lava that’s still eating through my flesh. When the woman has put out her own flames, she turns her attention to me. Shouts the words of a spell and waves a

hand over me. The lava explodes off me in splatters, out of my nose, mouth and ears. I take an unbelievably welcome breath of air, then cry out my agony to the world.

“Kernel!” the woman yells. “You have to help me! The damage is too great — I can’t repair it by myself.”

I’m gasping like a dying fish, unable to respond. I never thought there could be so much pain this side of death. The woman casts another spell. A cool wave washes through me, numbing me to the worst of the torment. I draw back from the brink of painfueled insanity. Lay my head down, moaning weakly instead of screaming madly.

“Use magic,” the woman urges me. “Help yourself. Restore the flesh that’s been burnt away. It’ll hurt like hell, but you have to do it.”

Tags: Darren Shan The Demonata Fantasy
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