Barlowe, Wayne - God's Demon

Looking far ahead between the two camps, the Chancellor General saw what appeared to be a distant wall, low and long, and, he imagined, hastily thrown up. Behind it troops of some kind could be seen scurrying back and forth. Even though they were faintly illuminated by the suspended sheets of flame, he could not tell what kind of infantry they would be meeting shortly.

Moloch cast out the command to pick up speed and suddenly, at his urging, Adramalik's soul-steed was galloping, racing over the ground-skin in huge, bounding bursts. Exhilarated, he watched as the distances between the armies rapidly closed. He could now plainly see the small figures, cowering in fear, he was sure, behind the wall, and to his complete astonishment he realized they were souls. By Abaddon's Pit, this is unheard of! Bringing in dirty larvae to fight against demons!

Directly behind them Adramalik thought he could discern a motley array of legions, including a few composed of pike-wielding demons— most likely Sargatanas' phalangites. Is this all that he has brought to face us? The battle with Astaroth and the occupation of his wards must have stretched his resources more than I thought. The phalangites are tough veterans ... but souls? How desperate is he?

As Adramalik and the speeding cavalry drew closer he began to see more and more legions waiting in the wings. Distant and without any demon's sigil of possession, they were concealed within summoned smoke, he imagined with some dismay, so as not to alarm the onrushing forces of Moloch. Obscured by clouds in the far gloom, high above Sargatanas' lines, Adramalik even thought he saw airborne troops, but he could not discern their numbers. And suddenly it seemed to him as if the day might not be won so handily.

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With Metaphrax Argastos in command of his Flying Guard, circling overhead, Eligor felt at some ease accompanying Sargatanas to the front. There Eligor's flyers would stay, concealed in the clouds, ready to pounce if and when needed.

His eyes fell upon the dark shapes of Baron Faraii's Shock Troopers as they lumbered in a purposeful, ominous wedge ahead, parting the massed legions by their mere presence and making easy transit for his lord, Lord Valefar, and himself. The generals—Demons Major mostly—followed behind, and Eligor examined them in all their occult martial splendor, bedecked in their hardened armor and every manner of physical ornamentation. He paid particular attention to Lords Bifrons and Andromalius and finally to Lord Furcas, who hung closely by Sargatanas, looking concerned and somewhat uncertain. Eligor had not been privy to all of the intricacies of his lord's plans but had enough of an awareness of the broad strokes to know the importance of the corpulent demon's role.

Arriving at the front and protected by the Baron's iron-eyed forces, the general staff saw the growing line of Moloch's cavalry begin its advance, gathering speed in the distance. Above them tiny sigils flared to life and command-glyphs began to dart from officers to soldiers. As they passed silently along the length of the bordering walls of flame they caught the light in such a way, Eligor noted, as to make them look like a glowing, onrushing flow of lava—an illusion enhanced by the vaporous cloud of steam that trailed off them. It was an amazing spectacle and he decided that if he survived this battle, he would write down his impressions back in his chambers in Adamantinarx. Just to remember the day eons hence.

Eligor's gaze moved down to the few hundred small figures crouched behind the newly erected wall. None had a weapon in hand, and because of this he imagined that their nervous tension regarding the onrushing cavalry must have been extreme. Yet they held still, each one a soul-centurion, each one awaiting the proper moment when he would be called upon to issue their all-important orders. That moment was not far off, the Captain reflected, as he just began to hear the rumble of footfalls across the plain. His keen eyes, the eyes of a flying demon, picked out the many scarlet-clad figures that he knew, from his trips to Dis, to be Knights of the Fly. And then his eyes fell upon the general at the head of the flowing carpet of cavalry. Reflexively, Eligor tightened his grip upon his lance.

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