The Road to Hellfire by Michael Panush

Author:Michael Panush [Panush, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781620072400
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Published: 2013-02-28T08:00:00+00:00

When Cane’s eyes peeled open, he saw he was held between two outlaws from Jasper Stokes’ band. Lord Sixham stood in front of him, the burning staff held in his hand. More of Stokes’ road agents flanked him, both holding up blazing torches. The fire from the torches and the green flames on Lord Sixham cast dancing shadows against the abandoned buildings of Sanctuary, which shifted and turned with each passing second. Sixham’s face was fixed in a cold, malevolent smile as his eyes followed the dancing flames.

Jasper Stokes stood off to the side, watching everything. Barnaby Bennet was crouched on the ground, still shivering in terror. The outlaws of Stokes’ gang stood around them, all watching in excited silence. Their horses were tied to hitching posts, a little down the block from the center of the main street. Cane glanced down and saw his own guns, lying in the dust. If he wasn’t being held down, he could almost reach out and touch them.

“I wanted to wait until you were awake, before I slaughtered you,” Lord Sixham announced. “I wanted you to feel pain and fear as I sliced you apart and sucked in your souls. It’s unimportant for the ritual, but I wanted you feel pain and fear anyway.”

“You do sure spend a lot of time thinking on me,” Cane muttered.

“Indeed.” Lord Sixham shrugged. “It’s revenge, I think. In London, you stopped the worshipping of my Thanatolian Brotherhood. You even reduced our place of worship to rubble.”

“You was cutting down innocent folk in the street!” Cane roared.

Lord Sixham kept his eyes on the flickering glow at the end of his staff. “It was but a small tribute to the Gods of Death. Once I take your souls, I shall join the ranks of those fearful deities and grant them a wondrous harvest.” His smile faded and his eyes seemed far away as they watched the flames leap and dance. “Then everyone shall know of the glory of death and I will receive my rightful place as a prophet.” His smile did not return. “I don’t know if I want that. But I do long to send others into the black void of death.” Sixham raised his staff again. “I’ll start with you.”

He drew closer, when Barnaby Bennet’s voice rang through the ghost town. “Mr. Sixham, er, Lord Sixham, rather!” Lord Sixham stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at Bennet. “If I could have a word?” Bennet came to his feet. “You mentioned that you are the prophet of some newly arrived religious order?”

“Yes…” Lord Sixham agreed.

“Ah. Well, that is quite fortuitous, I must say.” Bennet took a shaky, unsure step towards Lord Sixham. He moved like his bones were made of glass and he was afraid they would shatter. “You see, I am a writer of no small skill. After you achieve godhood you will doubtlessly need someone of my skills to spread your holy word.” He rested a palm on his flabby chest. “And I hereby volunteer my own considerable services.

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