Our Lady of Perdition

The Seventh Circle - Violenza

We continued up the mountainside. The two men below us on the volcano's slopes continued their screeching, the echoes of their argument growing fainter but never quite dying down as we ascended. 

"How much could be left?" I asked. 

"I hope we're almost done. I can smell the smoke in the volcano, so it's got to be soon." 

I sniffed the air to confirm if he was right, but then I caught a whiff of something else. I shook my head - no way it was real - but the scent still lingered. I crawled a few more steps, breathed in deeply again, then asked, "Hey, Bugs, you smell gas?" 

I heard his nose sniffle. "Kerosene." He hurried to catch up to where his hands were next to my heels. "Hell's doing it to us again, isn't it?" 

I grimaced. "Probably." 

We scrambled up the side of the mountain until the fuel smell was nearly unbearable. I rubbed my head, wondering if a headache was coming on, then stopped as I felt my free hand touch a liquid that evaporated quicker than water. It smelled strongly, had to be the kerosene. 

Heavy steps, like those of a horse, sounded as they thumped against the floor. "Who approaches?" the voice asked. 

We said nothing. The voice was strong, frightening. 

A man grabbed my chin. His fingers were smooth, knowing, gentle. "Are you here to join the rest? It would throw off my numbers, you see. God likes the number seven, and I'm used to six, myself." 

I shook my head, but the chin remained in his strong hand. "No, sir. I'm not here to be tortured." 

"Yeah, wise guy," Bugs added. "We're here on the authority of Our Lady, and we're looking for a way outta here." 

The man let go of my chin. "Well, as long as you're not one of my mortal enemies, I suppose I shouldn't kill you... too quickly. It's unlikely you're as innocent as your lips now claim, but perhaps your lies will be tested more in the next realm."  I heard his muscles creak with power as he stood, his boots stomp in the kerosene mud. "My name is Tatanka, but most of your kind just call me The Bull. Now back up a few steps - the show is about to begin." 

A whimpering cry came from the darkness. I couldn't tell who - or what - was speaking, but I squinted despite the futility. 

"Please, don't," the voice cried. "I can't take it anymore. Don't make him watch, please!" 

The Bull grumped a bit. "It has to be done, you know. Besides, I have it on good word that people who've sinned such as you deserve it." The Bull lit a match, which I feared would catch the fuel-laced air on fire, but it just flickered in front of his face. With the small fire illuminating him, I could tell The Bull was an Indian of some sort, tribe uncertain with no paint or feathers or anything. His hair was long but put up, and his muscles were so big they outstripped anything I'd ever seen before. 

"Now hold up," Bugs said, pushing The Bull as if he weren't a frighteningly big man. "I ain't going to argue with you much, seeing as no one we've met wants to get out of their punishment, but I ain't going to just sit back and let you light yourself on fire." 

The Bull smiled. "I'm not going to light myself on fire, friend. I'm an expert at this, and we're standing in a safe place. No, we're here for something grander. We're here to watch the birth of a nation." 

More voices in the dark cried out. I discerned shadowy bodies in the air, but I couldn't quite do more than count the six of them, and that might have just been because The Bull had already told me the number.

The kerosene caught flame immediately, and it spread in six directions. It danced its way around six wooden poles and flickered up to the top. Kerosene-drenched men screamed in the flames of the burning crosses, begging for mercy. Their white robes and masks vanished in a flash of fire, ashes dropping to the ground beneath. The faces of each man were white,