Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

310 :: JOHN R. MABRY
around his broad shoulders, but within the hood he saw the
kindly face of an old man.
No sooner had he passed into the kitchen than the next
guest arrived. Richard’s eyes widened at the sight of the massive
wolf with the tail of a serpent. From his great jowls he
vomited fire, blue-black flames that froze the air and made
the winter’s cold almost unbearable. This, Richard knew,
was almost certainly the infernal Marquis Talin.
Once more, Richard saw movement in the hallway, and
steeled himself against the next apparition. This one had the
shape of a man, in a long black cloak. Richard almost
breathed in relief until he looked into the hood of the cloak
and saw the face—not of a man, but of raven, its cruel beak
clacking open and shut in rapid, inhuman movements. Its
black eyes were soulless, and seemed to look past him.
Malack, Richard whispered to himself, naming the one that
governed forty legions of demons.
As these three dignitaries took their places at the table, yet
another figure stirred and entered, gliding through the doorway
and past the walls. This was the most horrible and glorious
of them all. Seated high upon a dragon, so high that his
crowns poked through the ceiling, another great duke of the
infernal realm took his place. He held a serpent in one hand,
and his face on one side was a beautiful youth, while the
other was most horribly scarred. This was the one he had
been waiting for, Richard knew. This was Articiphus, the
duke of Hell that had stolen Mikael’s spirit from his body
and had delivered two magicians to the Beautiful Gate.
Richard watched in awe as Articiphus descended from his
mount and took a place at the large oaken table.
Richard cleared his throat and tried to appear confident.
“Greetings, nobility of Hell, and welcome to my home.”
Talin’s wolf-head growled, but Batheliel spoke gently.
“Yours is a strange hospitality, priest. It has been a very long