The Heart of Hell

by Wayne Barlowe

She stroked the familiar’s round head and spread its triangular wings remembering how it had flown all the way from Dis to Adamantinarx to tell that city’s lord of her plight. It must have been a hard flight—its white skin was ember pitted and scorched from the journey. This task had no such urgency and she was confident the familiar would have no trouble keeping a discrete eye on the extraordinary soul during her journey.

  Lilith picked up a small chisel from her kit and poked her finger. She let a trickle of black blood dribble down into her palm and then dipped her nail into it and, with it, wrote a glyph upon the maquette’s body.

  “Go, Ukuku, go and follow her. Watch her. And show me her progress.”

  She was, for some reason, yet obscure to her, unwilling to reveal what she had learned at Dolcha Branapa. Was she so bitter toward the souls that even this act of kindness was beyond her? Perhaps. While she could feel pity and respect and even admiration for the soul, she could not reach out to help her. Not yet. She would have the soul watched and find the right time to tell her what she knew of her daughters. For now, she had other, more pressing issues at hand.

  Again, she dipped into the blood and drew the glyph onto the little winged thing. It leaped into the air, circling briefly on rapidly flapping wings. Lilith saw it find its target—back toward Dolcha Branapa—and she watched its pale form grow tiny and disappear into the distance.

  Lilith put her tools away, rose, and roused Ardat and the slumbering succubi. Wrapped in sleepy embraces around their weapons, they were barely recognizable since she had first encountered them. Armed and armored and clad now in white Abyssal hides, they looked potent and even a little dangerous despite the yawning and stretching.

  She smiled faintly. Her Sisters of Sargatanas. What could she make of them?

  A newfound sense of urgency permeated her every move now. The library of Dolcha Branapa had provided her with the last bit of arcane guidance necessary to find Buer. The old spellcaster had certainly found the most out-of-the-way spot to dwell, well past the last settlements and in the shadow of the foreboding Watchtowers that bounded in the known world of Hell. It was still a long way off and it was impossible for her, for the thousandth time, not to wonder how the thing that was Hannibal fared.

  Even as that thought crossed her mind she discerned roughly two dozen spots, growing larger with every moment, approaching in the flame-washed sky.

  “Weapons out!” She pulled her huge sword from its sheath and stood pointing it skyward. She was pleased to see her companions moving swiftly, forming a circle as they took in the aerial nature of the enemies that were nearly upon them. They looked to Lilith, wide eyed, for further orders but were shocked when she suddenly dropped her guard and smiled.

  “Lord Eligor!” she hailed as the red demon dropped from the sky. He knelt, folding his wings and bowing his head.

  “My lady! I am pleased to find you well.”

  Lilith looked at the demon’s face and saw a darkness there she had never seen before. Something was very wrong.

  “I am well. As are my companions. I see you did not travel alone. A Guard Flight? Is Adamantinarx at war?”

  “Not just yet, my lady. But the city … what is left of it … is in great peril. Lord Satanachia had Agaliarept—”

  “Agaliarept?” Lilith’s lip curled, remembering Beelzebub’s unfathomable Conjurer. “That nightmare?”

  “Yes, Satanachia thought it best to spare the thing. It has its uses. Such as locating you in this forsaken land. As I was saying, Satanachia is throwing every possible measure into defensive walls and battlements.”

  Lilith knit her brows. “Who is threatening the city? Surely no demon lords are left with the power to cause Adamantinarx any great harm.”

  “No. You are quite right. It is not a who, exactly. Something has been unleashed, something that imperils every living thing in Hell. We first heard about this from panicked traders who fled into the city babbling about legions of ‘Eaters.’ At first, Satanachia did not put much stock in the stories. Much is not right about Hell and much is cause for endless dark speculation and consternation. You know this. But this is different. Too many traders and travelers were coming in with the same tale. Flying scouts were sent out to the four corners of Hell and returned with reports of a massing of creatures, a vast army of … things unlike any demon, Salamandrine or Abyssal. Of creatures that split and split again and multiplied as they consumed everything before them. And they told of something else leading them. A true Abomination. Eventually, whispers from the Salamandrines came to our ears. Abaddon. And that is what we have whispered about since we learned of it. They say it is the coming forth, foretold in their legends, the Coming of Dark-fire. They have a sacred legend cycle that speaks of it … How Dark-fire Spirit Returns the Lands. It is an apocalyptic tale meant to give them hope, meant to end with them returned to their rightful place as lords of their land.” He paused. “Tellingly, it originated when we Fell.”

  Lilith was silent.

  “And that is not all. There is a demon with the creatures. We do not know who, but he is powerful. And feared.”

  Eligor let his words sink in.

  “We need you back in Adamantinarx, my lady. We need every possible warrior to combat this threat.” Eligor paused. “And we need the souls to take up arms.”

  “The souls. Again, we have to rely upon them. Except now there is no Hannibal. No leader to bring them together.”

  “That would be you.”

  Lilith frowned. “Perhaps. My opinion of the souls has changed since the fall of Dis. How long before the city is besieged?”

  “Perhaps six risings of Algol. No more.”

  “I am bound to find Buer. You know that.”

  “I do. And I know, too, that Hannibal does not improve with each setting of Algol. My Guard, in what used to be Dis, brings me tales of madness. That as it may be, Adamantinarx needs you more. And that is why I am here with a full Flight. I had no idea how many of you there would be. They will carry you and your party to Buer to speed your journey along. Once you have what you seek we will carry you back to Adamantinarx. We cannot waste any time, my lady. Do you know of Buer’s whereabouts?”

  “I think I do. Buer is in the Margins among the Eastern Watchtowers. Supposedly in a straight line toward setting Algol. I hope.”

  “Then we have no time to waste, my lady.”

  Lilith nodded and turned to Ardat. “Tell them to bring only their weapons. We need to leave everything else behind for the sake of speed and lightness. We leave straightaway.”

  As they watched the Sisters pile their belongings Lilith turned back to Eligor. He had grown in so many ways since Sargatanas’ Ascension. A Demon Major now, Elevated for his heroic service to Sargatanas by his new Lord Satanachia, he carried himself with more authority. And more gravity.

  “I came across a rather unusual soul recently, Eligor. Very impressive. Commanding even. She was with a rough band of Salamandrines. Remarkably, she seemed to be their leader.”

  Eligor cocked his head.

  “Really.”

  “Yes, she was searching for her daughters. She and her warrior-band had overpowered the sanctuary at Dolcha Branapa with hopes of finding out their whereabouts. It was … touching. The deep yearning she felt for them … What?”

  The demon was staring at her, mouth slightly agape.

  “Did she carry a straight sword? A sword both beautiful and made for a soul?”

  “Yes, that and one made for Salamandrines. You know this soul?”

  Eligor smiled. “Oh yes, that one I know. Let me tell you about her.”

  * * *

  Eligor’s steady wingbeats lulled Lilith into a state of calm she had rarely ever felt in Hell. He cradled her in his arms gently, protectively, and she peered below at the infernal landscape as it slid beneath them. And, strangely, she found beauty in it.

  The dark terrain was alternately cracked and folded into intricate and unexpected patterns, some of which seemed to echo
the very glyphs the demons created. Over many hours the twisted ground gave way to vast plains ribboned with incandescent snakes of lava that stretched as far as the eye could see, and farther on steam rose in places suffusing the ground in a gentle, lambent orange lending the inferno a dreamlike delicacy belying its true and fierce nature.

  They flew through the tattered veil of clouds, over a seemingly endless charred landscape.

  Remarkably, for the Margins were notorious for their winds, the air was warm and calm and Lilith found herself drifting, her lids heavy, her limbs loose. She fell asleep to the rhythmic whooshing of Eligor’s long wings. And, not for the first time, she dreamt of Sargatanas in his tower, the coldness of the scene, the look in his cupric eyes tugging at her heart.

  It was Eligor’s soft voice that wakened her. “My lady, the Eastern Watchtowers.”

  “How long have we been aloft?”

  “Long enough, given these winds.”

  Yawning, she peered into the dense, sulfurous air and saw the immense silhouettes of the fabled Watchtowers. She had known of their existence, of the fact that all five of the far-flung Margins owned their own towers to guard against whatever might lie beyond. Few in the cities had ever laid eyes upon them, so distant were they from Hell’s populated centers, and descriptions of them were unreliable. She knew, too, that they marked the edge of the known world. Beyond lay only the darkness into which no demon had ever ventured. Or so Lilith had heard. All of the tales had seemed like nonsense to her. How could there really be an “edge of the world”? And yet, at this distant point, so far from Adamantinarx and Dis, it didn’t seem so unrealistic.

  She looked down and saw sharp-edged lines of lava converging at and disappearing under the towers’ bases. Why? Did the archiorganic buildings need the lava to sustain themselves? Who had fashioned these runnels? Unknown demons eons ago? She shook her head to clear it. What did it matter?

  The towers stretched in both directions, fading away into the sulfurous miasma.

  “So many of them, my lady. Do we know which one is Buer’s?”

  “It will be the only one guarded by Beasts. Or so the scrolls said. Find the Beasts and you will find Buer.”

  “Beasts. I thought they had been hunted away.”

  “Not out here, apparently.”

  Eligor took them closer to the towers. They were huge piles of barely designed architecture and huge organs crackling from within with a force that made the air surrounding them vibrate and shimmer. As they drew nearer, Lilith’s skin tingled faintly, a sensation that at first annoyed her but eventually grew endurable.

  The base of each stack was composed of countless rough organic cubes sparsely perforated by what looked like windows and doorways and tailored for flying demons. None appeared at the point where the base met the ground for fear, Lilith suspected, of unwanted intruders.

  As her eye wandered upward, she saw that the cubes diminished and gave way to huge, flat slabs of flesh that formed vague cones, each surmounted by two giant tooth-lined jaws. And set within each of these was a monstrous glassy and lidless eye. As these were facing inward, toward Hell’s center, Lilith imagined that another eye, equally expressionless, must be facing outward toward the unknown on each of the towers. She was vindicated in this when Eligor took the Flight through the colossal structures and she caught a glimpse of their far sides.

  “Are they Abyssals, Eligor?”

  “Yes. From what I have read in the earliest texts, they were found in this vertical position, their bodies mostly buried. These creatures are a colony that surrounds Hell. There is nothing like them within its confines. They seem immortal. The ancient architects … Mulciber and his lot … simply built around them, encrusting them with their buildings. They thought to establish a vast settlement here. Imagine that.” He paused. “It did not work out well.”

  “So odd,” she mused. “Wait … there! Did you see that?”

  Instead of answering, Eligor stooped and dove, and Lilith could not help but smile as the wind whistled over his wings. The sheer power he has at his command!

  The Flight was right behind them, diving in concert with their leader.

  She focused ahead and saw a great, dark leg as it disappeared behind a Watchtower, dust kicked up by it, obscuring its path.

  Eligor banked steeply around the tower and came suddenly face to face with the Beast as it turned, mouth agape, to confront him.

  It was the largest Abyssal Lilith had ever seen. Black, horned, and glowing with searing lines of fire, it reared up on its hind legs and swiped at Eligor, missing only because the demon rose up and over the creature with practiced, fluid confidence. Never missing a wingbeat, he arced back toward the Beast to make sure his Flight had not been knocked from the sky.

  “I guess we found Buer,” Lilith said wryly.

  Eligor grinned.

  The Beast twisted and again clawed at empty air. The demons were too seasoned from countless battles to be so easily overcome. Or so Lilith thought.

  In a snarling fury, the Abyssal spun and crashed into the nearest tower, sending a cascade of debris into the air. A shower of bricks collided with the demon carrying Ardat and the pair were sent hurtling into the tower’s side. As Eligor came around, Lilith, stricken, saw them lying motionless on a shattered terrace. Ardat’s side was crushed and bleeding.

  A piercing whistle filled the air and a wave of glyphs poured from one of the darkened cells on the same side of the tower that Ardat and the demon lay. Lilith watched the glyphs circle the Abyssal and weave around its body. The Beast’s reaction was immediate. No longer enraged, it slunk off and lay down some distance from them. Another creature, only slightly smaller, joined it and began grooming it. Both kept their dark faces turned toward them as the whistling died away.

  Moments later, a wiry figure emerged from within the tower and descended the rubble to the broken terrace. It knelt down to inspect Ardat and her crushed side. Eligor open his wings and coasted down, landing a short distance from the three figures.

  Lilith leaped from Eligor’s arms and ran toward Ardat. Glyphs cast by the wiry old demon were already touching the handmaiden. As Lilith knelt by Ardat the demon rose and hurried to the fallen flyer, but it was clear from his crushed face that there was one death from the encounter with the Beast. Eligor looked down, his face grim. He did not acknowledge the other demons as they landed with their succubi.

  Tears trembled on Lilith’s face as she kissed Ardat’s lips. She stood shakily and regarded the demon.

  “Buer, I presume? You are … female.”

  “Yes. To the first question. For now, to the second.”

  “Will she live?”

  “Yes, but she may never be as she was. My glyphs can only do so much to mend her. Much inside of her is badly damaged. And much of it seemed to have been damaged before.” The voice was as thin as the demon who wielded it.

  “She has been through some terrible changes.” This was not the time to explain Beelzebub’s wrath.

  “She will walk and talk as she did, but pain will be her constant companion for some time,” Buer said gravely.

  “For how long?”

  “I cannot say. I am not boasting, but truly no other demon could do more for her.”

  Lilith’s heart sank. Had she come all this way for Hannibal’s salvation only to have her trust in this legendary demon’s abilities immediately shaken? And, worse still, Ardat, poor Ardat, was awfully wounded.

  Buer reached out and put a gnarled hand reassuringly on Lilith’s shoulder. Lilith wondered if she could read her thoughts.

  “You did not come all this way for naught.”

  Lilith closed her eyes for a moment, calming herself. Anger was just below the surface.

  “Was that you … the whistle? The glyphs?”

  Buer nodded. “My … guardians … they get overzealous in their protectiveness. I am sorry.” She turned to the demon flyers. “Pick them up carefully and follow us.”

  The wizened dem
on turned and led the party into the tower. Eligor glared angrily at the distant Beasts and helped lift his fallen comrade. Lilith, fighting back her rage at the unpredictability of Hell, was the last to follow.

  19

  THE PLAINS OF DIS

  It was all that he could have hoped for and more. Carnage, complete, and chaos, without end. Hell was falling to bloody shreds before his very eyes and he was there at the forefront of its destruction.

  And his rewards were just as he had hoped for, as well.

  I am, he thought, perhaps the most fortunate demon in all of Hell. To have survived the downfall of the Fly and the madness of the Decapitator and, now, to be allied to Abaddon … it seems I truly can survive anything Hell has to offer.

  Not for a moment did Adramalik consider again the steep price he had paid for this latest alliance, nor did he allow any thoughts about his decision to sully his unbridled elation. While he had felt, at times, some camaraderie with them, his Knights had always been a fractious and dangerous lot and he had always had to look behind him to make sure his authority was complete and plots were not forming. In many ways he regarded his newfound freedom from them as a boon.

  Now, before Adramalik lay a Hell ripe for the picking. And, better still, Abaddon’s promises to him were being kept. Since the Abaddim had begun their devastating march across the landscape his place at the head of the Horde and at Abaddon’s side had been assured.

  Adramalik considered all of this for the hundredth time as the ragged front line of Abaddim approached the plains where Dis had once stood. This Horde was unlike anything any demon lord had ever created. Demons had been destroyed since the Fall many, many millennia past and Abaddon had been collecting them, biding his time, for all those long eons. They had not just surged up from the dreaded and stinking frozen Pit but also from hellmouths throughout the inferno. Faraii told him that his Knights had valiantly led the Abaddim from those many points of egress, leading the Horde on a path to eventually converge upon Adamantinarx, the final capital of Hell. Abaddon knew well that to break the demons it must remove Put Satanachia from his seat of power.