The cracking desert highway ahead of us seemed to be created by ages of heat and pressure. The very furnace that created the unusual terrain served to erode it as well. The pealing cracking surface shared traits with dry cracked riverbeds. Our footsteps crushed the brittle curling edges, audibly announcing our presence. The acrid sulfur sky suffused everything here. My senses, once sharp, were now dulled as calluses to a workman's palm.

Across the broken plane nestled in a lowland sat a small hamlet. To the south of the town a channel carved by ancient water and recent warring. Bleeding cactus formed the Norther border. A curtain of oily smoke set as a backdrop for the buildings, spreading slowly like an irrigating wound in a slow moving river.

The Tailor, whose tracks we had been following these last days, made no attempt to conceal his path. Whether it was arrogance or ignorance made no difference. It was not the track that made pursuit difficult it was the denizens of this realm.

His tracks diverted from the road on the outskirts of the town. He crossed the open ground to the trench. We found a small cache in a recess in the trench. It looked to me like some sort of supply cache for fleeing refugees. The Tailor moved on down the trench after that. What he took or why he stopped in there I may never know.

As we neared the town I glanced back at Calais. He was hawkishly scanning the area ahead. Then I noticed his empty quiver. Gods we need arrows. I had seen a banner hanging from one of the buildings in town. It looked like a military insignia. The cluster of arrows in the banner gave me an idea. Perhaps it was a company of archers that had bedded down here? I snapped out of my deep thought only to discover Calais looking at me. "Everything alright?" he said with mild concern.
"Yes." I told him purposefully. "I have an Idea." I said with a wink.

I motioned for a halt. Calais came forward and we climbed the dirt walls up to a level where we could see the town again. As soon as I peeked above the rim I could hear the moaning of the damned. Twenty or so of them were being herded into town by an enormously fat demon. It lingered for a moment near the center of town then settled down to rest. Behind it lay the archer's banner and an open workshop. I could make out barrels stacked against one wall. Were those fletchings? I pointed it out to Calais. He agreed that we should risk it, but we should move the others to the far side of town before entering. He pointed to the inky smoke they veiled the view west.
"We could use the smoke to conceal our approach." He said coolly.

As a matter of course we dropped the others near a damaged metal bridge that crossed the trench. We then approached the center of town. The damned were actually aiding us, as their moaning garnered the attention of the reclining demon.

Our efforts in evading the notice of the demon were rewarded. The barrels were filled with arrows. I thrilled at the reward. We filled our quivers and exchanged in quiet conversation. For a moment I forgot the oppressive nature of hell. The timber of his voice tickled my insides. Oh how I wanted to throw my arms around him. Then the reality of our situation returned. How much I had come to resemble this place. My hair, skin, wounds, and scars all covered in ash. Streaks of sweat formed tiger stripes of grey and black on my body.

With a full quiver and the image of myself as a feline predator I was ready to continue. I leaned forward and kissed him. I could feel his need for release welling in that kiss. My lips and tongue buzzed with anticipation. Pained moaning from the damed souls redirected our focus.
"We needed to rejoin the others." He suggested with some dissapointment in his voice.

The trench continued in a westerly direction. Flat planks crossed over the trench at regular intervals. Cadaverous demons and devils lay across them at time or down on our foot path. There had been battle here recently and often. Some of the decaying dead were skeletal and crushed and buried with perhaps years of traffic.

We stopped briefly for rations. The warm water skins did little to relive my parched lips. I rifled through my pouch and found an old puchino bean among my provisions. How long had that been there. I held the roasted nut close to my nose. I breathed deeply, welcoming the memories of Elded's Cross. I opened my eyes only to find Lilith looking at me. I feigned not to see her and she soon averted her gaze.
She was a liability in every respect. If she was aligning herself with us she would be dead weight. If her previous alliance still held then she could get even closer to us now, the men I mean. I still do not trust her. Soul or not she is a temptress and her proximity is a distraction. Seeing her in my clothing and Calais' cape only served cover the wolf in sheep's clothing. She had not earned our kindness, nor proven her worth. I'll burn those cloths before I wear them again.

The others stirred, it was time to get moving. With a nod from Calais we returned to our positions. Me verifying the trail, he scanning ahead for danger. Ahead of us I could hear crumbling rock and the soft thump of hurling stones finding purchase in the pulverized streets of Mox. Leviathans creaked and chirped with the fanfare of a portcullis rising.

Bleeding cactus had closed in over the rim of the trench. Bright crimson streaks ran down the sides of the trench pooling at our feet in a pulpy mud. Calais signaled me to stop. Ahead I could make out a domed building. The marble walls all but collapsed. Crackling fire flickered from brazers within. Shadows danced against the few standing pillars. Several figures were within. Calais signaled for me to follow him.

The trench we had been following undercut the rear corner of the temple floor. Moving topside we put the trench between us and whatever resided within. My heart rate climbed as I nocked an arrow. The others positioned themselves near some fallen palisades that were now acting as a ramp to the derelict structure. Celeste and Enzo were poised on the ramp awaiting our signal.

At the center of the temple stood a cloaked man with sweeping bull horns that ended in sharp points above his brow. Before him knelt two bearded devils. The cuts and abrasions of recent combat still flowing with lacquerous luster. As the robed commander raised his hands his power manifested in the kneeling figures. Both erupted shedding the skins of their former station. From the splitting skins of the bearded devils emerged creatures thoroughly covered in spikes and horns. They howled in pain at the abrupt metamorphosis. To my left I heard the palisade logs shift under Celeste's unstable footing. I was not alone. The devilish commander craned his head their direction. His rage at the interruption obvious in his burning eyes.

I heard the tension build in Calais' bow string and answered with my own. The music of the bow string was about to play. A huff of air escaped his lips as he let fly his arrows. The commander was nearly toppled with the impact. Recovering his balance his gaze locked on us. A noxious fog appeared all around the commander. Casper's magic laced words trailing behind it. I let fly my own contribution of arrows into the transforming barbed devils. Even as my arrows were in flight I could see more of their kind answering an unspoken summoning. Where there were three, now stood seven, no eight. The cloud of death Casper had stung them with did not render its full effect and the hoard was recovering from our attack. Celeste launched herself headlong into them followed by Enzo and his icy breath. Calais' barrage of arrows had disrupted some form of magic the commander had been crafting. Poised for shot Calais waited for another opportunity to pay him similar kindness. With nary a gesture he vanished. I scanned the horizons straining my eyes to see where he had gone. Experience has taught me that those who command in hell don't retreat lightly. He would be close, ready to pounce.

An unfamiliar sound came from behind me. Lilith was mouthing words to trigger her magic. She seemed novice in her application and no effect was visible at the conclusion of her actions. "Useless, she is utterly useless."

Behind her I saw the commander materialize. He was at the crest of the trench standing over Casper. Before I could bring my bow to bear on him he was on Casper. With a savage fury he tore into Casper. The rending attacks sent blood and spittle flying from the defenseless wizard. Another howl escaped the devil commander. This one tinged with satisfaction as he drove his spikes deep into the fading wizard.

Above in the temple Enzo and Celeste engaged in their well choreographed dance of death. The devils were no match for their combined attention.

Below Corman had been assisting with the assault on the barbed devils in the temple. He turned to see Casper's ravaged body clinging to life. He hesitated briefly. Then realized he was not close enough to render assistance before the commander would finish what he had started. The wizard would have to save himself. His pale complexion and blood soaked body told the story. He would be dead in seconds if he did not respond. Calling on his deep magic the mage balled his fists to focus his magic. A prism of color unfolded behind the frothing devil commander.
What was he doing? That is an immobile barrier. My shoulders slumped. Was that his answer? Then I saw a curl of a smile on the wizard's face. A lance of energy shot from his fists forcing the devil commander back through the scintillating wall of light. As he passed through the layers of the wall waves of colored energy scored his flesh. His body convulsed and racked. Gouts of flame, sparks of lightning ravaged him as he passed through the layers. He emerged on the far side of the wall. Smoking, no steaming. His eyes rolling in their sockets.
"How was he even standing?"
Then I saw what Casper already knew. His mind had been stolen by the last layer of the wall. Madness had been his undoing.
In his madness he began to run away from us, arms flailing at his sides. Calais ended his suffering with a single arrow.

The wizard had been gravely wounded, but Corman was seeing to his wounds. Another day in hell. How long would we be here on the trail of Hell's Tailor. I pressed close to Calais and held him for a time. I looked up and met his gaze. There is was again, that warm smile. I would suffer all that hell had to offer for that smile.