Barlowe, Wayne - God's Demon

Eligor enjoyed all of his time in the Library, but he truly enjoyed the moments, as today, when he would encounter his lord buried behind a stack of enormous volumes, slowly turning the thick gray pages and poring over some forgotten passage. He kept his powers sharp and Eligor watched him occasionally scribing an old glyph in the air repeatedly, incorporating its essence into himself.

Eligor picked up the nearest book and began to read, taking notes as he did, but it was not long before the low and measured intonations of his master's voice distracted him. The Demon Major was focused and Eligor studied him, trying to view him objectively. Eligor was so used to the towering demon that it seemed he never pulled back to actually look at him.

In the uneven light of the candles Sargatanas was an imposing figure, dark and potent, with thin coils of steam rising from him. After the Fall, many demons had faces that seemed in keeping with their true being—tortured, prideful, and violent. Sargatanas was not among them. His massive head was deeply sculpted, bony, and strangely handsome. Even without its nose, the long face in repose still bore much of what had made it angelic, noble. Floating a few inches above his head were the three small horns of his rank. These, Eligor knew, could be withdrawn for protection and were considered a great prize if taken in combat. Over the eons Sargatanas had filled a small cabinet with those of his enemies.

He was clothed in his ruddy flesh-robes, his customary raiments when he went about the palace. The glare from his fiery pectoral sigils highlighted the prominent veins and creases of the thick garments that crossed his upper torso and flowed into the wide cloak that trailed him. Beneath them the fused rib-carapace bore a hole, ragged and sharp edged, where the demon's huge heart had once been. A slowly pulsing glow, not unlike that of a cooling furnace, illuminated the terrible wound, and like the persistent flames that played upon his head, this inner fire, like that of all Demons Major, was slave to Sargatanas' temperament, gathering in brilliance when he was angry. Such was not the case, now, as Eligor studied him. The studious Lord of Adamantinarx, book splayed before him, was at ease.

This was the Sargatanas that Eligor was most accustomed to. But he had seen that other side of his lord, the fierce, turbulent personality that none in Adamantinarx, and only a relatively small number in all of Hell, could withstand. His fury could be immeasurable, and the changes it wrought on him physically were astounding. Eligor remembered sudden, organic metamorphoses that rendered his lord utterly unrecognizable. The more agitated he became, the more rapid were the shifts. Such was the fearsome power of a Demon Major. They were changes that a Demon Minor could not fully comprehend, and, to be sure, Eligor himself sometimes found them frightening.

"If you like, I will stand up so that you can get a better view," Sargatanas said, looking up, a twinkle in his silvered eyes. He rose up from his seat, enormous. "But I will turn away so that you can continue staring surreptitiously."

Eligor laughed. "I am sorry, Lord. I was trying to look at you as if I had never met you before. I wondered what Faraii and all the others must have thought upon meeting you."

"Why, they are supposed to be completely awed, Eligor," he said, a hint of mockery in his tone. "I am not so different than any other Demon Major, am I? Surely you have better things to do than to sit about in such 'deep' thought. How is the northern border these days?"

"Secure as always. To be truthful, Lord, I was also trying to remember you as you were. I only saw you in the Above a few times, and those were from afar."

"That is strange, Eligor. I was trying to remember that, myself, a while back. I almost could. Much time has passed." Sargatanas sat back down. An unidentifiable expression clouded his features.

Eligor closed his book. He could see some deep emotion working at his lord.

"Tell me, my lord, if you would. What was he like?" Eligor asked. "I was just a lance-wing in the War. I never met him. And you were so ... close to him."

"Him. Him I can remember. After all this time. I can see him just as he was. Lucifer," said Sargatanas. "I have not said his name aloud in millennia." The Demon Major paused, looking up toward the vaulted ceiling. "He was the best of us, Eligor. Something truly special among us. He shone with ... with a ferocity that made us pale by comparison."

"Everyone I have spoken with, or read, says the same of him," said Eligor.

"He was beloved by the Throne and he knew it. But that was not enough," Sargatanas said as if he had not heard Eligor. "He was not content. There was something that he had to fulfill. He called it ... his restless vision."

Eligor looked quizzically at Sargatanas.