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Descent Book 3: Descent Into Hell
Descent Book 3: Descent Into Hell
Descent Book 3: Descent Into Hell
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Descent Book 3: Descent Into Hell

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Disaster has been averted, but only at a terrible cost. Where once 5 sentient races populated the Earth, now only 4 remain. Can King Gregory strike a bargain with the devil to bring back the Elves, or will the consequences of such a deal prove even more catastrophic?

This is the third and final installment of Phil Geusz's novel Descent, now available as a trilogy.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 3, 2013
ISBN9781301951666
Descent Book 3: Descent Into Hell

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    Descent Book 3 - Phil Geusz

    Book 3: Descent into Hell

    Written by Phil Geusz

    Copyright Phil Geusz 2010

    Published by Legion Printing Publishing at Smashwords

    First Printing August 2010

    Published by Legion Printing and Publishing, Inc, Birmingham, AL

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    All right reserved. No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without explicit written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    Smashwords License Statement 

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    I

    On good days, it could be wonderful to be the Guild-King. On others, it was a living nightmare. Sadly, this wasn’t one of the good days. I squirmed a little on my ill-fitting throne, then assumed a pose of solemn dignity as my subjects kneeled in front of me.

    The condemned will step forward, my major-domo directed. Immediately gray-haired Marjorie Davis, a distant relative, was pushed forward in chains. Once she stood directly before me, a guard forced her down upon her knees as well. There was no question that force was employed; Marjorie fought it with everything she had.

    I sighed aloud. This was going to be a wretched affair. Utterly and totally wretched in every imaginable way.

    Has the condemned prisoner any last requests? the major-domo boomed out.

    No, Marjorie answered, her back straight and proud.

    Will the prisoner plea for mercy?

    No. Never!

    The members of my Court looked to me for guidance, as was right and proper. It was obvious what had to be done. But it was going to be so terribly hard!

    Andrew was seated at my right, so that he could help me along if necessary. Greg! he hissed. "You've already made your decision, and it’s the only one possible under the circumstances. So act on it!"

    I crinkled my nose but didn’t reply. Both of us were convinced that Marjorie was guilty beyond any reasonable doubt, and a jury of her peers had agreed. Furthermore, she’d shown no remorse for her crime. It was almost as if she were deliberately daring me to do what came next.

    Or perhaps even pleading for it.

    Greg! Andrew hissed again.

    I waved a silencing paw at him. My job would be done—I owed the Guild nothing less. But I needed to be more certain in my heart first. No matter how many advisors I had, or how much I trusted them, not one of them could ever be certain for me. This was something I had to do for myself. Certainty was a terrible burden, but one that went hand in hand with a crown. I took a deep breath, held it a moment…

    …and it was time.

    Sister Marjorie Davis, I asked in my most solemn, official tone. Did you in fact attempt to desecrate the Elvish Memorial?

    She stood mute, as was her right.

    Sister Marjorie Davis, did you openly and deliberately defy our royal command?

    More silence followed. Sister Davis, I finally continued. "This is a matter of great import both for you personally and for the Guild as a whole. A royal command isn’t something to be trifled with. This Guild was originally formed in large part for the explicit purpose of imposing the rule of law upon the practice of magic. You’ve been judged to have willfully defied this law. If deliberate lawbreaking is tolerated even once, then all laws soon become meaningless. And, as you well know, the world cannot afford the breakdown of law among mages. Have you nothing to say for yourself?" Come on! I urged her silently. Please, Cousin Marj, admit your guilt and tell us all that you’re terribly sorry. Explain to the world that the reason you hate elves so much is because they murdered your husband. All of us could understand, then! We could forgive you, and levy a lesser penalty. We want to forgive you! But if you fail to speak for yourself, if you refuse any kind of defense, if you simply stand mute and filled with hate, then my hands are tied! Can't you see that I don’t want to go through with this?

    Andrew elbowed me. He wanted this unpleasantness over as badly as I did. Still, it wasn’t him that was about to have to do something awful to another human being. It was me. I shook my head, then rose to my feet. Guards! I ordered. I wish to speak privately with the prisoner. Bring her to the throne, then leave us. I require no protection from her.

    A murmur whispered through the Hall, and Andrew inhaled sharply. Greg! he whispered urgently. I don't think—

    Give us a moment alone, I repeated, making my wishes unmistakably clear.

    My uncle shook his head. "I do understand, son, he whispered. But keep in mind that delaying the inevitable is a form of cruelty as well."

    I nodded at him. I'll do it, Uncle, I whispered back. If I have to. But only when I’m good and ready. First—

    —you must be completely certain in your heart. Yes, Gregory, I understand. And just so you know, I feel a lot sorrier for you than for her.

    I nodded again. Thank you. Now, please leave us. Andrew bowed formally and retired a short distance away. Then the guards brought up Marjorie, and left her kneeling at my feet.

    Well? I asked. Are you ready to talk to me yet? Or must I do that which you know I’d rather not?

    My distant cousin knelt in silence.

    "For heaven's sake! I hissed. Do you understand what’s about to happen to you? We know about your husband, and we understand. All you have to do, even now at this very last moment, is stand up and explain that you were driven by the need for revenge and are truly repentant. Then I can get you the help you need, instead of..." I shook my head again, unable even to speak the words.

    Finally, at long last, Marjorie looked up and met my eyes. Gregory, she whispered. You were a beautiful baby.

    These were the first words she'd spoken to me since her arrest, though I'd visited her cell many times. You helped care for me, I replied. Though I was too young to remember.

    The prisoner smiled wanly. I'm sterile, your highness. Childless, and now always will be.

    I nodded. I know. And I'm sorry. You'd have made a good mother.

    Ken wanted to adopt. But I sought the genuine experience or nothing at all.

    Your husband was your whole world, wasn't he? I answered. "Marjorie, I understand why you did what you did. Everyone does. But the law is the law! And unless you admit guilt or can be proven insane, I must do what comes next."

    Marjorie smiled. I hate them, she explained. I hate the elves with all my soul, and I'm thrilled they’re all dead. Even the children.

    But... I spluttered.

    "I'm not crazy, either. There's nothing at all crazy about hatred, at least when it's justified. Not one of the doctors found me insane, though they tried every trick they knew. Because I’m not, you see. I just hate, is all. And for excellent reason."

    Marjorie, I pleaded. "Please! Why are you doing this to yourself, and to me? I know that you don't hate me!"

    She looked away. "No, Gregory. I don’t hate you. No one does, not anywhere. Nor is there an ounce of hatred to be found in your heart, either. Which is why you’ll never understand me. She paused, then met my eyes again. I’ll freely admit my guilt; I do so here and now. But that’s not what you’re really after. I'm not in the least bit sorry for what I tried to do, except in that I regret that I failed at it. I'd do it all over again in a minute; release me and see if I don't! Nothing that anyone can ever say or do will ever stop me from trying to destroy those statues until I can’t try any more. I'm twisted and bent inside with hatred, Gregory. Warped beyond all repair. I'm not sorry, you see. Not even just a tiny little bit."

    I bunched up my forepaws into fists and pounded on the arms of my throne in frustration, public image be damned. Everyone in the room knew what I was up against, and they also knew that I didn't want to Unmake her any more than they wanted to witness it. Damn it, Marjorie! I exploded. We can get you help!

    She barked a single syllable of bitter laughter. "No, your highness. You can only help those who want to be helped. And I want to hate the elves forever. Forever! With all of my heart and soul! Her eyes were glowing now. I'm a powerful sorceress, young Gregory. One of your finest. If I set my mind to destroying those statues, the odds are good that in time I’ll succeed. Won’t I?"

    Yes, I admitted.

    Well, then! She grinned. You seem to have run out of alternatives, your highness. Perform the ceremony.

    It was only then that I began to understand. You... You don't trust yourself, do you? And you've figured out...

    Her mouth wrinkled in disgust. Yes, I've figured it out. And so have half the other mages in the Guild. Why else would reversing a basilisk's spell suddenly become such a high priority? She paused, her rage transforming her normally soft and loving features into something sharp and angular. Give me half a chance, and I'll smash those statues to flinders! I'll break their heads off, then dissolve them in acid. I'll-

    Suddenly Marjorie’s mana began to swell and blossom, so I reached out and snatched it away from her. "Damn you! she hissed. And damn the Guild spells that control me! You'll bring 'em back to life, won't you? Let 'em skulk through the woods again and make more old women into widows..." Then she was weeping, her tears a corrosive distillation of rage and sorrow and black, black hatred.

    I see, I said at last. "You do know in your deepest heart what's right. But you don't trust yourself any more. That's what this is really all about. Isn't it?"

    "I hate them! she hissed. Hate, hate, hate!"

    Thank you, I replied. Now I understand what you’re doing, and why. And perhaps I even admire you for it.

    She laughed through her toxic tears. "Admire me all that you want to, Gregory! But please, let’s get this over with. Then her voice softened. Truly, I’d not have wished this upon you. I won’t fight it any more than I can help."

    Thank you, I replied, meaning it. And even more, thank you for helping me to understand.

    She laughed one last time. Don't mention it. Then she stood, bowed, and rattled back to her appointed place.

    It was traditional for a Guild King to speak before an Unmaking; I took a moment longer to find the right words. Now hear your king! I began, voice loud and firm enough to carry to every corner of the Hall. Marjorie Davis has admitted her crime, but her only regret is that she didn’t succeed. Further, she claims that she’ll make another attempt, if ever she’s allowed the opportunity. We all know that her actions were fueled by terrible, perhaps even justifiable rage. But poorly thought-out enchantments cast in the heat of anger are precisely what that this great Guild was formed to prevent. Magical acts can echo down the corridors of time forever. Our responsibility is therefore terrible, and the punishment for the gross abuse of magic is firmly fixed by ancient law. It’s our solemn duty to use mana only for the ultimate benefit of the Humanities, not in pursuit of personal vendettas. So we are taught as apprentices, and so we live as adults. But our Sister, Marjorie Davis, has seen fit to defy this wisdom. No matter what her justification, she has broken with us and refused to return. There is only one possible course of action open to me. Let every one of us gathered here today bear witness to what comes of personal vendetta.

    I turned to Marjorie. You are no longer our Sister, Marjorie Kristen Davis. You are no longer of our Family, nor are you of our Blood. Prepare to be Unmade!

    Thank you, she mouthed silently.

    Then I concentrated with all of my might, reaching out with the muscles of my mind and gathering unto me vast, endless swirls of pure mana. I let the maelstrom build up, up, up into a vast, unstoppable whirlpool of energy. There were more than a few gasps at its sheer size; nothing like it had been seen in centuries. Or perhaps ever. This was the first time I’d ever revealed my true potential. But the more powerful my mana was, the quicker and more merciful the punishment would be. I compressed the mana into a column-shaped vortex, then with a thought centered it on Marjorie.

    "Aaaaahh! she screamed as her mind was shredded; every memory of the Guild and its secrets were being deleted from her brain. Aaaaaaaahh!" It was a heartrending scream, more than I thought I could bear. But despite it all I focused the mana and destroyed her utterly, until there wasn’t a trace of latent power left in her and she was rendered utterly mundane.

    Marjorie continued to grab at her head and scream for quite some time after the true scrubbing had passed. It was all the loose ends rearranging themselves, perhaps; her few purely non-Guild memories seeking to make sense of each other. Then, quite suddenly, she smiled and spoke. Where am I? she asked.

    Among friends, I answered around the lump in my throat. Friends who will take good care of you from now on.

    Oh, she replied. Then her head tilted to one side. Do I know you from somewhere, bunny?

    Yes, I answered. We met once, a very long time ago. Marjorie had been in the Guild for over a half-century. Virtually everything she’d ever been or done was wrapped up in Guild business. And now I'd taken all of that away from her. Even her much-beloved husband had been a mage, so she wouldn’t remember him either. A lump rose in my throat, and I very much wanted to weep; a thousand years of tradition carried me through the next few moments, where nothing else could have. Our once-sister, now harmless, was assigned a guardian and new home. What was left of her would never lack for love or material things.

    Then the special disciplinary meeting of the Guild was adjourned, and I was free to go cry my eyes out in the Royal chambers.

    The next morning found me out in the driveway, washing my Dart. I could’ve—probably even should’ve—paid someone to do this for me. In theory, my time was far too valuable to waste on manual labor. But I liked washing the Dart, and both Misty and Smokey had underscored the importance of maintaining a balance between Duty and the simple joys of life. I'd had a rough evening dealing with the Unmaking, and there wasn’t anything earthshaking on my platter. So I called Delenica, my administrative assistant, and had her cancel everything for the day. Then I backed my car out into the morning sunshine and

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