Barlowe, Wayne - God's Demon

Beelzebub, the Prince Regent of Hell since its founding, must accept the fact that there is now a rising power that threatens my sovereignty. A demon has come to shake me from my throne!'

The words hung in the air. Adramalik looked over at Husk Faraii and saw that the saliva had pooled upon his thigh and was now slowly dribbling downward. Agares, too, was staring at him.

'Dis is now deprived of Moloch's standing army; it is ash upon the winds as we speak. My Great Summoning Pits are, for the moment, impotent ... my conjurors sit idle at their edges, waiting for them to bestir themselves. But I am sure the same can be said for him; it will take some time for his allies to gather their armies. It was nothing short of genius for him to use his souls.'

'It was disgusting, my Prince,' said Adramalik vehemently, forgetting himself. 'An army of skin-sacks! It was an abomination worthy of no demon; imagine, demons ... no, angels Fallen ... destroyed by that filth!'

'You speak of 'angels' and 'abominations.' Just where do you think you are?' asked Beelzebub.

'But to use them as he does is to become as dirty inside as they are.'

'To use them, you fool, was to annihilate my army!' Beelzebub roared, the buzzing making the Chancellor General's painful head throb. Agares splashed backward as the Prince rose in a roiling cloud from the throne and rematerialized seconds later below, before Faraii. High above, the hanging skins flapped agitatedly. Slowly and with apparent affection Beelzebub reached out a hand and began to caress the seated demon's face, wiping the drool from him with the fluttering wings of a hundred flies. The act seemed to soothe the Prince. He turned to the Chancellor, who had bowed so low that his upper robes hung well into the crimson puddles.

'I was there,' the Prince said. 'I was at the Flaming Cut. At least,part of me was there. Look and understand, fool.' He extended his left arm; it ended in a stump of angry, milling flies. 'I wanted to see Sargatanas for myself, see his 'brilliance' with my own eyes, and so my Hand, formed into a simple legionary, marched just behind you ... no farther than I am to you now ... all the way to the Cut and into battle. Did you think Faraii chose his own moment to betray his lord?'

Adramalik shook his head. He had truly never guessed.

'In the chaos of Moloch's destruction I changed sides, I became one of them and returned with them to their city, and even now, even as we speak, I search the streets of Adamantinarx. Do you know why?'

Adramalik knew what was coming.

'Because you failed to bring her back to me!'

Adramalik staggered. In the haze of pain that suddenly swept through him he wondered if he was going to walk from the Rotunda or finally be destroyed.

But the moment passed. Beelzebub continued to stroke Husk Faraii's face.

'What have I done ... ruling in Lucifer's stead ... to deserve this ... but what Lucifer himself would have done?'

'It is as you say,' the Chancellor General uttered through clenched teeth. 'You have ruled just as Lucifer would have done. With firmness and steady resolve.'

'And so I shall continue. I fought at Lucifer's side against the armies of the Above. If I cannot destroy the rebel Sargatanas I do not deserve to rule in this place. I will not use the souls of Dis to fight a demon ... their lot is punishment, not empowerment. But I, too, can call upon allies.'

He would risk everything to compete with Sargatanas! He will bring Dis to its knees!

But Adramalik glanced over at Agares and held his tongue.

'Allies, my Prince?'

'Lucifuge Rofocale, Lords Berith, Carnefiel, and Malgaras, all have pledged their support; their legions are forming at this moment. Together they will form an alliance that will bring my army back to full strength and more.'

'And who will coordinate them, my Prince?'

Adramalik sensed the answer and felt his spirits sink lower than he could have imagined. This responsibility would surely take him down the path to his destruction.

Beelzebub looked sharply at Agares and then back at the Chancellor General. 'I thought that would have been obvious ... Prime Minister.'

Chapter Twenty-Six

ADAMANTINARX-UPON-THE-ACHERON

Hannibal woke with a start.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes; he knew immediately that he was not as he had been, not whole. Weakly he tried to sit up, but he heard Mago quietly tell him to lie still. He was in an unfamiliar room somewhere, he guessed, in Adamantinarx. Which was a relief, because it told him that the battle had been won.

His entire left arm was gone, traded, he saw, for the immense hooked weapon that lay ominously on the table nearby. It was as long as his arm had been. Strange that it is here, the instrument of my loss.

But stranger still was the tarnished and pitted disk that lay next to it. It was Moloch—or what was left of him. A spoil of war, a prize beyond measure, and, clearly, left for him as an honor. But what, if anything, could he, a soul, do with it: wear it around his neck? He would have to ask Lilith or Eligor.

'Tell me, Mago. Tell me what I missed.'

'You are fortunate, my brother,' Mago said plainly. 'Fortunate to have survived Moloch and more so still to have had the First Consort, herself, attend your wounds.'