Barlowe, Wayne - God's Demon

Sargatanas strode on, outwardly oblivious to all around him. But the small bone plates of his face were ceaselessly shifting, agitated and angry.

"By now, my friends, you must be wondering why we walk these streets rather than take wing." He paused. "It serves to remind me. Hell is punishment. Punishment is why we are here. Ours and theirs," he said, nodding toward some souls. "But I see no reason to surround myself with filth and decay in Adamantinarx. We are on foot because we three must remember the differences between our own city and nearly every other city in Hell. Especially this city. Too many centuries have passed since we were last here. I, for one, had lost touch with the place, with its character. That character is a reflection of the demons in charge. It says as much about them as it does about us."

Valefar suddenly looked puzzled. "Does it, my lord? I ask because I do think, after all these centuries, Eligor is warming to this place. Just last month he told me that he missed his trips here. He said that he really could not wait to come back."

Eligor's mouth opened.

"Perhaps we should make this an annual pilgrimage then, eh, Eligor?" Sargatanas said earnestly.

Eligor was so surprised that the most he could do was vehemently shake his head. Sargatanas and Valefar looked at each other and smiled.

The streets around them broadened, though the conditions in them hardly-improved. Monumental statues commemorating the fallen heroes of the War rose from ornate pedestals too thickly, Eligor thought, to connote anything more than insecurity and forced patriotism. They entered a district of larger, more imposing buildings. These were part of the mayoral complex of this ward, and hanging high above them was the unfamiliar aerial sigil, Valefar told them, of the general Moloch.

"He is never in residence at these palaces; he favors the Keep," Valefar said, and added, "so that he can be at his master's feet at all times."

"Bitter, Valefar?" asked Sargatanas.

"No, my lord, simply aware."

"I think it is time for us to take flight and meet the Prime Minister. I am feeling well enough grounded in this place."

They opened their wings and in moments were flying over the city. Eligor was grateful to be up and out of the streets. The hot air was refreshing compared to the clammy, close air of the city.

Hours later, as they drew close to the Keep, Eligor could see activity; the sky was filled with demons swarming around the towers and spires, while in the flat courtyards other administrative clerks and court functionaries bustled to and fro.

The three demons dipped down, sweeping low over the wide, incandescent lava moat known as Lucifer's Belt. It was an artificial defense, and Eligor saw the open mouths of the conduits lining the far embankment that carried the magma up from the depths and poured it into the surrounding channel. Mulciber's genius again. Eligor could feel the shimmering heat when they landed at the foot of the Keep, and it barely diminished as they climbed the long steps to the gate itself.

Valefar, in his capacity as Sargatanas' Prime Minister, approached the captain of the sentries and made the formal announcement of their arrival. The demons waited briefly until a small door in the great gate opened and the many-horned secretary to Prime Minister Agares ushered them inside.

* * * * *

It was strange, Adramalik reflected, strange that suddenly so much should turn on Astaroth's faltering wards. Agares had been informed weeks ago of the departure of Sargatanas and his caravan. That was unusual; it had been six hundred years since his last journey to Dis. So long, in fact, that Beelzebub had grown petulant about the unorthodox, charismatic Demon Major and his evident lack of respect.

And now waiting with him and Agares in the Rotunda was a messenger from Astaroth. Spies in Adamantinarx had been informed of Sargatanas' intentions, and when news had reached Astaroth in his crumbling capital, Askad, the messenger had been hastily dispatched. He had flown the entire trip without pause and was still trembling from the effort. His wings were shredded and Adramalik saw tiny smoking pits upon his skin from embers that had buffeted him; he had apparently taken the most direct and perilous route.

When he landed he had been brought straightaway into Agares' chamber and met almost immediately by the Prime Minister. There they had spoken for some time, and even though Adramalik could not hear the conversation, he knew, afterward, that the messenger was here to strengthen his lord's alliance with Beelzebub and weaken Sargatanas'.