Barlowe, Wayne - God's Demon

Valefar snorted and threw up his hands.

'Look around you,' Sargatanas said with a sweep of his hand. 'Does it look to you as if I need another army?'

Hannibal knelt, head bowed. Just as he had feared, the Burden was approaching his head, sliding through him inexorably. Wincing from his wounds, and with some effort, he shook his head. 'Your legions are beyond impressive, Lord. Their capability is so far beyond any army I ever led that I cannot imagine withstanding them.

'However, like pieces set upon a board, they are predictable once seen. The army I offer you can be that board, unseen until you need them, and therefore unpredictable. No one knows better than you, I am sure, the advantage gained by the careful manipulation of the battlefield, the very buildings and streets under your enemies' feet. Of course you could do it on your own or delegate it to one of your generals, but even that would take your attention away from your pieces ... your demon legions. Nor do I think you could find a demon happy with the task of leading ... us.

'Given the ... authority, I could lead them as I've led others ... before.'

'What makes you so sure that they will follow you?'

Hannibal hesitated and then reached into the cavity in his side. His fingers closed upon the small statue, feeling its familiar, comforting shape. He pulled it out and held it up before the demon lord.

'She has led me this far. I must believe that she will help me lead my kind.'

Sargatanas' eyes widened. To the amazement of Valefar and the other demons, he reached under his fleshy robe and brought forth a statue nearly identical to the one in the soul's hand. Only Hannibal seemed unsurprised, having witnessed the moment of its discovery.

'I have seen her visions. They are glimpses of the Light ... of Heaven regained.'

'Mine are visions of freedom,' Hannibal said. 'If freedom begets redemption, then I can't complain. If not, we'll take it anyway. And stay right here.'

'You are quite the opportunist,' said Sargatanas. He regarded the statue in his bone-covered hand, weighing it. 'I have been told that others like these are out there, but only you have understood its implications, have shown yourself able to do the exceptional by bringing it to me. Perhaps you can be exceptional, as well, upon my fields of battle and under my banners. I will give you your army, Hannibal Barca. And, with it, someone to accompany you, to watch over you, to mold the souls you need however you see fit. Go and gather your host. When you are ready you may join my legions.'

'Thank you, my lord.' Hannibal bowed with some difficulty, top-heavy as he was with the weight of the Burden.

'You will truly thank me in a moment,' the Demon Major said, raising a hand. It glowed with a small but intricate glyph that shot out and touched Hannibal upon the Burden. For an instant, more pain seared through his already-weakened body, but it subsided quickly, replaced by a growing feeling of lightness, and when he looked down, shaking, he saw that his chest was covered with a thick, black liquid that flowed more profusely as the orb began to dissolve. Moments later a large deforming cavity was the only evidence of the cumbersome Burden he had carried. His collapsed head tilted unnaturally until the flesh and bone began to fill in, and when he was completely mended Hannibal, mouth agape, eyes round, knelt before the demon lord almost as one reborn. At Hannibal's feet a large puddle of malignant blackness had pooled and begun to congeal.

Valefar stepped forward, turned to one of the attending winged demons, and indicated the pool that had once been Hani's Burden. Light-headed, Hannibal heard him say, 'Have that jarred and returned to the Wastes with the proper ceremony.'

Sargatanas lowered his hand and silently looked the trembling soul up and down. Satisfied, he turned quickly to resume his review, his burning robes trailing a thin, rising vortex of steam. A messenger approached him, and Hannibal could not help but hear their conversation.

'Lord,' the trooper said breathlessly, 'I have just now come from the border. Lord Astaroth has launched a massive attack on our western margin.'

'Is there any evidence of support from the Prince?'

'No, Lord.'

'Our losses, so far?'

'Demolishers are eating away at the buildings on the edge of Zoray's Thirty-fourth Ward. Lord Astaroth's reconnaissance was good; with no true resistance there he has made substantial gains.'

DEMOLISHERS - (acrylic on Gessoboard) - Part of the vanguard of Dis' army is its intimidating force of various engineering 'vehicles'. Demolishers are among the largest soul-constructs found in Hell, each massive creation composed of hundreds of compressed souls. So heavy that they need supernatural augmentation to move, they are lumbering, building-crushing tanks capable of chewing their way through soul-bricks and natural stone alike. Only the thickest-built archiorganic structures can withstand the Demolishers which is why each is commanded by a powerful Demon Minor wise in the invocations necessary to further weaken them.

Part of a private collection, this commissioned piece seemed, at first, impossible. As there are no vehicles or real machines in my Hell, I was confounded when the buyer asked me to invent a Hell-tank. The only solution that satisfied my world's internal logic was to riff on the concept behind Agares' steed as depicted in the INFERNO book. In that painting, the demon is seated upon a mount that is entirely composed of mashed-together souls, their multiple legs providing the locomotion. Once I licked that conceptual problem the painting was fun to execute. As I had just recently finished GOD'S DEMON and there was a scene involving Demolishers, this painting provided me a rare and serendipitous opportunity to envision a kinetic battle scene in Hell.

Sargatanas waved the trooper away and then turned to the massed soldiers.

'Legions,' he shouted, his voice like a pure trumpet, 'the first move in our campaign has been made for us! We are at war!'

And Hannibal heard a martial cheer spring from thousands of inhuman throats and rise to the heavens, a cheer as he had never heard before.

After conferring for a moment, Valefar turned away from his lord and looked back at the soul. The Prime Minister was shaking his head, an expression upon his bone-plated face that seemed amazed.