It was obvious the patrolling centaurs did not expect anyone to break out of the trance their boss conjured.
Quentin briefly considered running away; he had successfully broken the violent spell, but he quickly dismissed the idea, concluding that it would be wiser to wait.
"Rejoice and be glad, for you have been chosen for the glorious march," Juron continued its speech.
"This is Mount Vocaghter in all its fiery splendour. Up there above those beautiful dark clouds is your destination."
If it was going to be a race, Quentin intended to weave his way upwards through the crowd, but before he could execute his plan, the whipping centaur, seemingly reading his mind, trotted right up to his side.
The breath seized from Quentin's lung as he pulled off his best impression of a mindless, angry human.
The Whipping Centaur bent towards him, its mouth emitting a stench that almost killed Quentin before the stupid task even began.
"You, I'll so enjoy killing."
It whispered before trotting off.
Quentin awarded himself a mental medal for keeping his act intact.
Juron was obviously having the time of his life, because since he began its speech, he hadn't stopped grinning.
"You will all have to make it to the summit of Mount Vocaghter. Because we are not savages, we have provided these wonderful steps. You do not need to climb like monkeys, nor do you need to worry about falling to your deaths."
Quentin did not notice the stairs earlier when he saw Juron, but now he was pretty grateful that he did not have to climb up the lava mountain with his bare hand.
A shimmering apparition appeared, glowing just above the heads of the condemned.
"The only thing you need to worry about is being the last person when this clock timer reaches 0," Juron continued.
"Now, the rules to this simple game are really easy; in fact, there's really only one rule. Do not be the person on the lowest level when the hour timer reaches 0."
Now, all through Juron's speech, Quentin had thought he was the only one that broke out of the trance, but he was wrong.
Somewhere up front, something shot up into the sky, its wings shining a silvery orange. Quentin was captivated by its beauty.
"Reaching the top is the goal, right?" The flying creature spoke as it swiftly moved through the air.
"Then allow me to bid you all farewell."
Quentin understood its goal: to fly to the mountaintop and avoid the dangerous route and stress of walking.
But as soon as the flying creature went past Juron's head and began its accent, lava shot out the side of the mountain, completely drowning the creature's right side.
With an ear-curling scream, it plummeted straight to the ground, wriggling in pain as it cried.
Juron seemed to find the amusing aspect of the incident, erupting into laughter, with his minions following suit. The sound of their laughter in direct contrast to the shrieking of the poor birdman.
"I guess there is one more rule. Don't try to be smart with me. Use your fucking legs and march up this mountain."
With that, Juron turned and galloped up the stairs in prestige fashion, leaving the cursed souls with its minions.
Once Juron was out of sight, the counter dropped to 59:59, and the entire camp woke up. The entire camp burst into life as the race began.
Those at the front of the group thanking their luck as they ran, while those at the rear gritted their teeth in agony, trying to catch up.
Before long, Quentin got to the first step. Being so far away from the base of the mountain, he did not realise how massive the steps were.
From the looks of it, one step was about half the length of a football pitch.
Quentin shuffled along, the weights of his injuries making him curse under his breath, his calf still bleeding from the wake-up whipping he got, his back bare, open to the wind and its biting effect.
The guard centaurs trudged behind the group slowly, their faces bearing the most vicious looks. Quentin anticipated a tumultuous journey ahead.
'I definitely shouldn't have said I'd kill that schmuck.'
Quentin continued up Mount Vocaghter. A sizeable portion of the group had run out of sight; the ones that trailed behind with Quentin were a bunch of older beings, sick and weak creatures, and lastly the birdman.
Quentin was genuinely surprised that he had the will to continue up the mountain after half of its body had burnt up.
'Calm your heart, Quentin; get a bearing of your situation.' He thought to himself, taking in deep breaths. 'Juron's presence makes everyone violent and mad, so I just can't go around speaking freely with these creatures.'
Quentin shoved his way to where the birdman was struggling with its accent. Coming up to him, Quentin winced at the gravity of the damages. Burnt beyond repair, its beautiful black feathers were a shadow of their former selves.
'One thing I know for sure is if I can trust anyone in this unfortunate place, it's this birdperson.'
"I'm so sorry about this, but if it's any consolation, you..."
The birdman couldn't hide his shock.
"You, a human, broke out of Juron's violence spell?"
Quentin felt a twinge of pride; he suffered a lot to get out of whatever Juron did to him, and he was ecstatic to hear someone give him some sort of credit for it.
"It was no big deal. You seem strong enough to talk, so please tell me what the hell is going on here. Are we in hell?"
"Was not a big deal, you say?" The birdman said, eyeing Quentin's beat-up body up and down.
"I do not know your name, and yet you quiz me with questions?" he continued.
"Oh, forgive me. Name's Quentin," he said, stretching out his hand for a handshake.
"Fool, keep your hand to yourself. This dumb brute must not know you aren't like the others."
Quentin withdrew his hand, briefly frightened by the sudden outburst.
"The name's Eagon, and you should not worry about my injuries. I am a phoenix; all I need to do is die in order to return to my original form.
Hearing that the birdman had some sort of fail switch calmed something in Quentin's heart.
'Wait a minute; I know I'm kind of a good person. Maybe not the best out there, but not bad enough to be here.'
"I think there has been some kind of mistake, Eagon. I should not be here."
"Here?"
"Hell. I shouldn't be in hell. There has to have been some sort of fucked-up mistake."
"Hell? Boy, you are not just in hell; you're in the seventh circle of violence." Eagon said in a hushed tone as they advanced to the next level, "There are no mistakes, and even if there were, mistakenly ending up in the seventh circle of the inferno is just not possible."
Quentin put up his mindless act as a centaur trotted up to them, not too far in front. Screams echoed across the hot mountain.
"Foolish Eagon. Your defining flaw has always been your faux wisdom."
Eagon ignored the centaur and continued with his tedious walk.
"The death you crave will never ever be given to you." The centaur laughed as it continued on its way, leaving the two to their solitude.
"You are a pretty popular one, huh?"
Quentin asked as he looked up at the fiery timer. Less than 10 minutes remained, and the two unusual partners were still at the lowest level.
"Eagon, I have to pick up the pace, and since you're the only one who's sane around here, I cannot leave you behind."
"You worry too much," Eagon replied.
"Well, when you die and wake up in a hell like this, you can worry less than me... Seventh circle, god damn, what did I even do to deserve this?"
"This race brings out the worst in people. You think being at the rear end is bad? You don't think those in front have probably figured out by now that incapacitating a fellow competitor and leaving them stranded on a lower step is the surest tactic to use?"
Quentin heard what Eagon said; he knew the seed of violence Juron had sowed into the hearts of these poor beings, yet he was sceptical to believe they'd do something like that to one another.
"Eagon, that's really just a foul thing to say. We're all oppressed, and I reckon we'd team up to take down these dumb horse people before we turn around to kill ourselves."
Eagon looked squarely at Quentin. Being face-to-face with him, Quentin could clearly see how messed up the lava incident was, but he was equally impressed at Eagon's healing abilities.
"You really aren't meant to be here," Eagon said. "How did you end up here, Mister Quentin?"