Barlowe, Wayne - God's Demon

As soon as what was left of the victorious Great Army of the Ascension had returned, Lilith excitedly left her chambers to seek out Sargatanas. Apart from the lines of returning soldiers, the streets as well as the landings leading up to the palace steps were relatively open. Once before the huge doorway she saw that her progress was not going to be so easy; small groups of demons gathering down on the plaza below had formed into larger crowds and were waiting to enter. Once inside, she found traversing the palace corridors difficult; the milling about of demon clerks eager to hear of the battle slowed her progress to a crawl but also allowed her to hear snippets of battlefield news. Sargatanas had, she gathered, been brilliant against the worst Dis could marshal. He had been wounded. And some of his generals, along with their armies, had been destroyed.

Lilith made her way toward the Audience Chamber, but she soon found that she was far from alone in that goal. When she arrived at the outlying arcades she could see that a huge crowd had gathered around the base of the dais; it seemed as if Adamantinarx had emptied its streets and avenues into the great circular chamber.

Tales of the passing of Valefar found their way to Lilith in incomplete fragments, shreds of conversation caught as sad whispers in halting Angelic from the murmuring crowd. She had taught herself the language from books but never heard it spoken and wondered why now it was; when she had pieced the words together she had to stop and, supporting herself by a column, catch her breath. It had been hard not to let slip anything about their shared past in Dis; it would be harder still not to let her grief show. He had been an extraordinary demon, she thought, wise and undeniably noble. And now he was gone, leaving that other noble demon Sargatanas to fight his noble war without him.

As she moved toward the foot of the dais the crowd parted for her, but-still, she heard quite a bit. The battle had been won, but by all accounts the price had been heavy. The complete destruction of Adamantinarx's military backbone—the phalangites—the end of Earl Bifrons, and the resultant chaos within his legions that had led to their massive casualties all had left the city weakened. At least the same or worse can be said for the state in which Dis must find itself. The Fly must be enraged! How happy that makes me!

Lilith climbed the steps noting that more demons were coming down than going up. All who passed her saluted in some manner or another, each according her the honor as was their custom in their own wards. She spotted Zoray, deep in conversation with three other officials, and went to him. He disengaged from the demons and greeted her warmly as she gained the top of the dais, but she could sense immediately that something was wrong. Clusters of conversing demons obscured her view of Sargatanas, but Zoray navigated through them until both he and Lilith stood before the throne.

Bathed in the red light of the oculus, it stood empty, flanked dutifully by Eligor's Guard.

"I thought you should see for yourself, my lady," Zoray said softly. "He has not been seen since the first day of his arrival in Adamantinarx. He ordered that the court language be changed to Angelic in Valefar's honor and then he was gone."

"Is he injured?"

"Yes, but it did not seem to cause him too great discomfort. It was but a flesh-wound, deep but not debilitating. He would not let anyone minister to it, though. And there is something else."

"Yes?"

"I saw him the day he returned. His appearance was shifting so rapidly, so awfully, that were it not for his sigil I would have scarcely recognized him. The seraph has never been further from him."

Lilith looked at the throne and shook her head slightly. His misery at Valefar's loss must have been consuming him.

"Is he in his chambers?"

"We think so, but there is no way to be sure. Perhaps you ..."

"If he wishes to be alone then it would not be my place to intrude," she heard herself say with apparent conviction. But Lilith knew what she would do. And she knew where she would look first.

"Tell me of the Soul-General, Zoray."

"He is terribly wounded; Moloch's Hooks dug too deep; he cannot possibly heal himself. On the battlefield he was patched up, but we have not been able to do much more. We have purged and safeguarded the traitorous Baron's quarters and Hannibal now lies within. But he is not well. My lady," Zoray said gravely, "we are not accustomed to healing souls and we are not certain he will survive."

"Then I must go and see what I can do; I have some knowledge of them and may be able to help him." She pressed Zoray's arm and turned away. And then, so as not to arouse any undue suspicion, she said over her shoulder, "Zoray, if he should venture out ..."