that it would bring.
* * * * *
Eligor dove down toward where Valefar had been standing, the sense of urgency pounding in his head, the hot air screaming beneath his wings as he tried to gain speed. He had finally spotted the demon lord amidst a carpet of retreating demons, found him by the fire of his blue-flame sword. Moloch, Eligor had also seen. The ex-god was struggling to stand, propped up by his broken wing-stilts and burned by a hundred cuts. Valefar stood before him, legs apart and sword-arm outstretched, but something was not right, because as Eligor descended he had seen the sword leave the demon lord's hand and fall to the ground. And then, to Eligor's horror, he had seen a brilliant flash followed by a gathering whirlwind that began to obscure the field in a funnel of ash that grew in intensity, making his and his fellow Guardsdemons' rapid descent extremely difficult.
When he alighted he knew that what he had feared, what in the back of his mind he had tried to deny, was true. Valefar was nowhere to be seen and Moloch was still alive, panting heavily, blood streaming in a hundred rivulets, single Hook raised defiantly. At bay and swiping at the Flying Guard who were harrying him with their lances, he was dangerous yet.
The Guard Captain, momentarily in shock, saw his lord's sigil through the wavering sheets of wind-driven ash and the countless fleeing enemies; Sargatanas was nearly at hand, and Eligor knew that his lord would be all too eager to confront Moloch. But as that thought crossed his mind, Hannibal's steed leaped upon two legs into view, the general pulling hard upon the reins, making the creature drop quickly down on all fours. Without hesitating, Hannibal sprang down from the saddle and attacked the ex-god, swinging the sword that Sargatanas had given him with a fury that Eligor had never conceived possible in a soul.
Moloch, spent as he was, was no faster than Hannibal in his defensive moves. They traded blows and parries and then one long, raking attack caught Hannibal on his shoulder, twisting him around and tearing a gash that peeled the soul's left arm to his knee and lodged the Hooks in his ribs. Moloch tried, futilely, to disengage the weapon from the soul's body for a killing blow but in the effort brought Hannibal to within striking distance. Caught on the weapon and grimacing with pain, he leaned in even closer to the bent form of the ex-god and with a single vicious one-handed chop severed the snarling head from its neck. Immediately the ground began to shake, knocking Hannibal and those demons around him off their feet, and Eligor, some paces away, took wing and watched Moloch's body collapse inward in a red flare of light and disappear.
When the shaking of the ground had subsided, Eligor rushed to the Soul-General's side, pulling him to one knee. Carefully Eligor pulled the giant Hook from the terrible wound. Hannibal held himself up by his sword and raised his eyes to Eligor's.
'So you see,' Hannibal said weakly, 'it is not so hard to kill one's god, after all.' His eyes closed and he slumped against the demon's leg.
Eligor nodded respectfully; he knew what Moloch had been to Hannibal and understood what the soul had achieved. Eligor waved some of his Guard over to surround Hannibal and instructed them to bind his wounds. The Soul-General was still alive, and Eligor carefully watched glyphs-of-healing being created to keep him that way until they returned to Adamantinarx. Eligor was uncertain about the soul's ability to heal himself; these awful wounds had been inflicted by a weapon with unimaginable properties. When he looked up he saw the welcome form of Sargatanas standing before him. Apart from a fist-sized, oozing hole in his armored side, the Lord of Adamantinarx was unharmed. Eligor watched him move slowly to where Valefar had stood and saw Sargatanas reach down to pick up the demon's sword. The fires of its blade grew, spreading briefly over the hilt and onto Sargatanas' shaking hand. The strong blue light etched the profound sadness of his face forever upon Eligor's mind.
Eligor began to search through the rubble and ash for Moloch's disk. When he found it, a dark, heavy, and tarnished thing, he brought it to his lord, who regarded it for a moment.
'Keep it with him,' he said quietly, indicating Hannibal. 'I am sure he will want it.'
Eligor's eyes began to search the ground where they stood. Steam began to form in their corners, hindering his efforts.
'I ... I do not see
Sargatanas scanned the ground as well, finding nothing.
Turning away, the demon lord looked up at the curling zephyrs of ash that rose high into the olive sky. Eligor could almost feel the enormous grief that was taking hold of him.
'Perhaps, the winds have taken it.'
Chapter Twenty-Four
ADAMANTINARX-UPON-THE-ACHERON
Valefar's empty chambers seemed like another world altogether to Eligor as he sat glumly at the Prime Minister's enormous bone desk. The absolute silence, the transparent wisps of smoke that drifted in the slowest of curling eddies from the tiny crack in one of the windows, the dull sound of the heart-clock, all contributed to the overwhelming sense of absence.
It had been weeks since Eligor's return to Adamantinarx, and the sense of loss at the passing of Valefar was keener than ever. Before he had locked himself away in his chambers, Sargatanas had told Eligor to go and sort through the Prime Minister's belongings and papers, to gather the important documents of state and anything Eligor might want as a keepsake. Sargatanas had asked for nothing himself; the chambers were to be sealed, and their contents were to be left as they were. With that imparted he had turned and headed to his chambers, a dark and somber figure in a now-emptier realm.
Eligor shifted a heavy stack of vellum documents to one side of the desktop. He had chosen one of Valefar's aides, a Demon Minor named Fyrmiax, to assist him in what he knew would be a difficult task, and he could hear the demon in one of the far rooms rummaging about. Sargatanas had yet to appoint a new prime minister, and Eligor knew that it would not be this demon. The position had been equal parts administrative and honorary; Eligor suspected that it might be some time before the position would be filled.
He pushed himself up from the desk and, with a sigh, began to make piles of the documents, stacking them by the door so that Fyrmiax could load them onto the small bone pull-carts that waited in the corridor. As Eligor went from one chamber to another, he saw innumerable poignant signs of Valefar's presence, objects or arrangements of objects that gave the impression of just having been used. The case his sword had been kept in lay open upon his pallet, the imprint of its light form still visible upon its cushioned interior.
Moving farther into Valefar's private world, Eligor caught sight of the cabinet behind which he knew the hidden compartment lay. Inexplicably, he felt a compulsion to open it and look within it for one last time. Its existence was
