Barlowe, Wayne - God's Demon

The javelins were now arcing higher, whistling up over Adramalik's head and landing among the rearmost mounted demons. Without waiting for orders, they were breaking and heading back toward their camp, forming up into ragged, surging groups, which suddenly found themselves heading directly into their own oncoming legions. Adramalik saw javelins hitting his demons, blasting their heads from their shoulders, sinking deep within their chests, and blowing them asunder, the shattered chunks of their bodies falling all around him. The din of destruction seemed ceaseless, the missiles limitless, until Adramalik had finally drawn out of range. Decimated as the cavalry was, he knew, as he plunged ahead, that those legions marching directly in their path were about to experience the unchecked impact of the panicked battalions. He saw his Knights issue hasty orders and thought he saw the great formations begin to turn. But he knew it would be too late.

A thousand steps back from the wall the two forces collided and, just as he had anticipated, the foot soldiers suffered beyond measure. Trying desperately to evade the cavalry, Moloch's legions' orderly ranks were torn apart, dragged under the hands and feet of the frantic mounts, and crushed into rubble. Adramalik's own soul-steed leaped and dodged wildly and he dug his horn-shod heels in to stay atop it. Growling, he shook his head angrily.

The destruction lasted just as long, the Chancellor General guessed, as it took Moloch to realize that a complete disaster would ensue if he did nothing. Adramalik was waiting for the order, and when it did rise into the sky he raised his saber high overhead, pointed it downward at the back of his steed's head, and plunged its fire-hot length deep into the beast's skull. As it crumpled to the ground with a whining exhalation of breath, he felt no remorse, no sense of loss. These were souls, skin-sacks;

they were meant to be used and destroyed. Let the Abyssals pick at it, he thought as he extricated himself from the saddle and walked away.

Looking across the field, Adramalik saw the other cavalrydemons dismounting from their now largely inert soul-steeds. Some demons were hacking angrily at their twitching bodies in a rage of frustration.

With the destruction of the mounts, the havoc within the beleaguered legions of Dis ended abruptly and for a few moments the only sounds were those of the seriously crushed soldiers crumbling away. Adramalik and the other cavalrydemons found themselves standing among the barely controllable legionaries whose fury had been aroused by the frenzy of annihilation that had swept over them. But so cowed were they by the presence of the scarlet-armored Knights of the Fly that they dared not act on their rage.

Adramalik ordered his Knights to integrate themselves and the remaining dismounted cavalry into the legions and to assume command. Thus bolstered, the legions would come closer to their original strength and under the leadership of his Knights, resented as they were, might regain their confidence. Or so he hoped.

The Chancellor General saw the cohesion of the legions returning and then saw Moloch approaching, baton in hand, striding easily upon his wing-stilts over the rubble and towering above the infantry. The anger was written upon his blood-dark face and his eyes bore something aside from the normal film of resentment. Is it disappointment? Adramalik could barely repress his satisfaction.

"What,

Chancellor General? Have you something to say?"

"Not I, Grand General. But our Prince surely will."

Moloch snorted.

And then, almost to himself, the ex-god said, "Even without the cavalry we have sufficient numbers to absorb casualties. We will overwhelm them and finish this ... in the name of the Prince."

For a moment the two demons' eyes locked. Would it be so hard, right here and now, to order this legion to destroy him—to send him to the Pit where he belongs? They would obey me ... and follow me into battle. But, Adramalik reasoned, there would be too many questions from the Prince regarding his champion, too much suspicion. There were easier ways.

"This does not end here," Moloch rumbled, thrusting the top of his baton into the Chancellor General's chest. Adramalik reflexively grasped its end and shoved it aside.

Perhaps not here, General, but soon.