Buer did not respond but bowed her head and withdrew, making her way slowly through the shadows and the dusty piles of specimens and crockery. A sudden sadness seemed to weigh her steps down. For the first time since she had met her, Lilith sensed the demon’s age and sensed, also, the profound loneliness she knew was now going to be Buer’s new companion.
Lilith made her way to Eligor, nodding to Ardat as she passed. The handmaiden seemed more herself, a trace of a smile upon her lips.
Eligor stood when she approached.
“Are we ready? Do you have what you need?”
“Yes to both questions, my friend.” Lilith swung her satchel open and deposited the glass phials she had been carrying on a table. She caught Eligor looking on. “How was I to have known what form the cure for Hannibal would take?”
“Good point. And you will be lighter this way,” he said with a slight grin that faded quickly. “We have no time to waste. We must take wing and be off to Adamantinarx.”
Lilith nodded and Eligor’s demons rose silently while the succubi, smirking to one another self-consciously, touched their forehead in salute and stood with a clatter of weapons, hands placed smartly on their sword hilts. A salute? What next? She shook her head imperceptibly.
They began to file out of the chamber and Lilith took Ardat’s hand, helping her to her feet and guiding her to the tunnel exit. She walked stiffly and Lilith could not help but see the pain on her face. Ardat stopped and turned and peered back into Buer’s chamber.
“Did Buer give you what you sought, Lilith?”
“Yes, and much more.”
“I wish I could thank her.”
“You can when we come back, Ardat. Someday.”
The look on Ardat’s face, a mixture of pain and puzzlement, was nearly undecipherable and Lilith wondered if Ardat would prefer to let it all fade into memory. She let the question go and the pair entered the tunnel behind the waiting succubi.
Eligor and his demons were waiting outside the Watchtower, readying themselves, flaring their flight glyphs for the journey back to the capital. With a nod from their leader the demons swept Lilith, Ardat, and the succubi up, ascending into the hot air and leaving Watchtowers, Beasts, and Buer in the smudge of ash below. The Margins quickly fell away to the horizon and the demons’ wingbeats grew more tranquil as they took advantage of the fierce infernal thermals.
This time, fending off the usual drowsiness that would overtake her, Lilith intoned a few short words and cast her mind into her faraway familiar. The fog of distance parted and it was as if she were looking through her own very keen eyes.
Ukuku was silently hovering high above the gray-brown terrain and Lilith could quite clearly see the many figures streaming across the bleak landscape below. It appeared that an army was gathering. An army of souls.
Lilith sent Ukuku lower, guiding it toward the front ranks of the army as it marched across the steaming land. And there in the vanguard was Boudica, swords out and mounted on a Salamandrine war Abyssal, urging the armed host forward. It was impossible for Lilith to not realize that the army was heading toward Adamantinarx.
22
THE WASTES
It had not taken much—simply her single-handed defeat of three of the souls’ key warlords—to bring the souls together. K’ah’s training and her own innate prowess had made the outcome of the short matches a foregone conclusion and, in each case, she had left the warlord’s body to writhe in pieces for eternity, kicked into a hastily dug hole. The resounding cheers for her as she left the makeshift arenas, bloody and defiant, only strengthened her newfound resolve. She had been reluctant to fight, but once she had committed to it her spirit had risen and her anger and bitterness had guided her hands. She barely remembered how she had dispatched each of them—the fights had been remarkably short—but she did remember how satisfied she had felt when she had raised her swords overhead in victory.
Not long after those battles the souls began to gather by the hundreds. Word spread that they once again had a leader and some even likened her charisma to that of Hannibal, the beloved Soul General, himself.
What had been difficult for Boudica was the transition back to leading her own kind. When she was being totally honest with herself, she admitted that here in Hell her attitude toward souls was dismissive at best. And, at worst, she could barely tolerate their proximity. That was different from her past, from her Life. She had loved her people and fought alongside them with pride.
Perhaps it was because in her Life she had seen the good that people had to offer. Perhaps her mistrust of her own kind, begun in the building pits of Adamantinarx with the likes of La and Div, had grown while she had spent time with the Salamandrines. While they felt sympathy with the souls, they had not in any way wanted to form an alliance with them. Whatever the cause, she simply did not trust her fellow humans. In Hell it was nearly impossible to see what might otherwise have been good motives as anything but opportunism at best. And, so, Boudica was careful to not make any serious alliances or friendships with the souls she now led. Instead, she adopted a cold and distant authority that belied the seething anger she now harbored inside, since she had realized that it might be millennia before she could ascertain anything more about her daughters. The frustration at having to ally herself with a rabble of souls in an effort to gain status with the demons to continue her search was almost maddening. So be it, she thought. My Hell is my self.
She was returning to Adamantinarx for better or worse. And the thought of it seemed almost absurd. For centuries she had toiled in its pits, abused and degraded and without hope. It took no effort for her to remember the sting of the whip upon her back. But she had been freed and the city was no longer what it once had been. And, from what she had heard, it would take every soul and every demon from the neighboring wards to defend it.
* * *
The march to the capital took Boudica and her growing army through what she was told had formerly been rough terrain. Now it was leveled, black and smooth. The rumors whispered about the vast Horde that had done this were true. And they were not too far behind it. It would be her job to keep her army from making contact with the enemy before they reached the capital. Scouts were sent out, some of whom did not return. But those who did were silent for some time before their reports were coaxed from them. Most described an ever-moving, cacophonous sea of dark creatures that stretched into the shadows cast by the clouds of debris that hung over the advancing tide. And some claimed to have caught sight of something else, a huge Being limned in red lightning, moving slowly at the rear of the maelstrom. Boudica could make no sense of any of it except that it was a threat to everything that thrived, for better or worse, in Hell. And that, in turn, meant a threat to her daughters if they had been cast into this horrendous world. The uncertainty gnawed at her.
Hell is my self.
* * *
Eligor shifted his hold on Lilith. While he and the other flyers had skimmed along the high, hot thermals with little or no effort they had been aloft for a very long time and, as lithe as Lilith was, she weighed more than the usual complement of weapons. Still, Eligor seemed more than content to carry her, shifting her weight rarely, never uttering a word of complaint.
Despite her dark mood about Ardat and the imminent threat to Adamantinarx, Lilith could not help but look upon him with fondness. Eligor was a stalwart companion to her, a demon of good nature and loyalty. She knew well how fierce he was in combat and that only made her admire him all the more for his kindness. She was glad he had been Elevated. With such a sterling character, how could he have ever Fallen? The answer lay upon Lucifer’s lips. Truly Eligor should have stayed away from the war in the Above, but it was because of that same loyalty that he had followed his lord, Sargatanas, as he, in turn, had followed Lucifer on his ill-fated journey. Though she had never asked, she was sure he wished he could have followed Valefar and Sargatanas back to the Above.
“Where are we?”
“Getti
ng close. We passed the Flaming Cut a short time ago.”
“And the Horde that marches on Adamantinarx?”
“No sight of them. Yet.”
Lilith looked across at the other flyers. Their huge wings made slight adjustments on the hot winds, the flames from their heads trailing behind them. She could see the succubi enfolded in the arms of the demons and she could also see Ardat cradled protectively by the farthest demon, Eligor’s most trusted First Lance.
Suddenly a bright spot appeared before them, growing against the dark sky. In moments it was recognizable as a packet of fiery orange glyphs, a message sent out on the winds.
Eligor craned his neck as it whizzed by, its trail sizzling in the ether.
“That was from Adamantinarx. An entreaty from Put Satanachia, himself, for any and all demons to gather in the capital. To bring arms.”
“That does not sound good.”
“No.”
“What will happen if Adamantinarx falls?”
Eligor looked down at her.
“It will be the end of us here.”
Lilith’s mind raced for any answers, anything that could help the threatened city.
“What if I could heal Hannibal … bring him to the city?”
“He is deeply corrupted, my lady. This I know from reports and you know from visiting him. It would take time for him to become himself again, yes? And even if he regained himself swiftly, he could never muster enough souls in time.”
Lilith knew he was right.
“It is up to us, Lilith. The irony of demons saving Hell has not been lost on me. The inmates saving their prison so they can remain incarcerated.”
Eligor fired off his own glyphs.
“The Proconsul should know we are inbound.”
Lilith was silent. Should she mention Boudica?
“That soul … Boudica. The one you were so impressed by. She is raising an army.”
This time it was Eligor’s turn to be silent. He remembered well that soul’s anger.
“She hates us, Lilith. And with good reason. She may well join in against us.”
Lilith remembered her encounter at the keep of Dolcha Branapa, trying to recall every detail of the soul’s behavior to see if what Eligor suggested was plausible, and, ultimately, she had to agree it was.
She looked into the distance and there, between some ragged clouds and far below, was a wide, light strip, bending fluidly across the dark landscape. The river Acheron!
Eligor soared on a straight and level course and, after some time, when the tiny, distant fires of the city were visible, he pulled up, beating his wings to maintain altitude.
“We can glide in or be a little more … energetic.”
Again, Lilith smiled at the demon.
“I like the sound of ‘energetic.’”
With that, Eligor gathered himself and, holding more tightly on to his companion, angled down toward the city. Folding his wings, he stooped into a combat dive. Lilith glanced hurriedly behind and saw the other demons following their wing leader. She chuckled wondering how the succubi were reacting.
Eligor gathered speed and the air whistled around them as they plummeted toward the city. Breaking through the clouds, they dropped at a furious speed. Lilith saw demons beyond count on the wing, some in formations, many hurrying about their tasks. She saw Eligor aim for the Central Mount and its huge palace complex, saw the countless new buildings lit by torches, saw tiny workers and legionaries on the streets, and saw, too, the city’s surrounding wall illuminated by a glowing tracery that outlined Adamantinarx in fire. All of this rushed toward her at an almost harrowing speed until, suddenly, Eligor snapped open his wings and braked just above the palace dome.
The flight alit on the wide plaza that lay before the palace gate and Lilith stepped down onto the flagstones delicately and slightly dizzily. Still, her face belied her exhilaration.
“Thank you, Eligor. For that and for everything.”
Eligor bowed in answer. “My lady.”
“Where to?”
“I think Proconsul Lord Satanachia will be eager to see you after all this time.”
Lilith nodded and took a very deep breath and a moment to look around her. Adamantinarx was thriving, once again. She could easily see, even from this high vantage, the various torchlit arteries below bustling with activity. The rebuilding of the capital was in full swing. Spires leaped skyward again, warehouses crouched along the Acheron, municipal buildings, forges, stables, armories, as well as a hundred other types of buildings all lined up and down the resurrected avenues and side streets. The quarrying of vast quantities of natural stone had seemingly not impeded progress on the city’s rebuilding and Lilith liked its new look.
Gone was the smell of blood on the air. Gone, too, were the endless cries of souls. Only the whine of the wind, of an impending cinder storm, perhaps, could be heard.
One thing did stand out to her. The forges were belching out copious amounts of smoke. Clearly, the city was preparing.
The plaza was newly flagged with finely dressed travertine marble that felt warm beneath her bare feet, not at all like the former clammy blocks. And surrounding the octagonal space were new, heroic statues of various demons bearing arms—heroes of the Rebellion, she guessed. She turned to follow Eligor, admiring the palace’s new appearance. It still looked like Sargatanas’ world, but, by dint of the fact that no souls were used in its construction, it had, to her, a more inviting look.
The demons and succubi gathered around Ardat, and Lilith thought her handmaiden looked, if anything, weaker than when they had taken flight. But Ardat insisted on walking alongside her lady and Lilith measured her steps, trying to make her slower pace seem less obvious.
Eligor led them through the huge, impressive front gate, built of granite and arched overhead as it was with magnificent carved demons, their outstretched wings interlocking, and behind the first pair, forming the ceiling of a long corridor, floated a hundred more like them. This was a new feature to the palace, replacing the old vaulted ceiling originally composed of soul bricks. Lilith took in the fine masonry and craftsmanship and then, as her eyes dropped to the end of the corridor, her heart skipped a beat and her mouth parted in astonishment. Standing in the glow of a great skylight at the corridor’s end was her Lord Sargatanas staring upward, hands clasped in prayer.
Has he come back to me?
Slowly, disbelieving and incredulous, she approached the figure, her heart pounding. She almost spoke out, waiting for him to open his arms and embrace her, but then the realization took hold of her, her chest aching from the bitterness. He did not lower his gaze, did not greet her, did not smile or speak. Sargatanas was no closer now than he had been before she walked into the palace. Carved from a single block of the purest white nephrite, the Demon Major’s features, his armor, robes, and sword, and very stance, were reproduced to utter perfection. Lilith saw in the curved and angled bones of his face the nobility, the sincerity, and … was she imagining it?… in his eyes the pain and longing that had always lain just beneath the surface. It truly was a sublime and transcendent work of art.
And nothing more.
“We found the most amazing sculptor among the souls. He based this upon the older statues, court drawings, and our descriptions,” a voice said behind her. “He truly captured him, yes?”
Lilith turned and saw Put Satanachia in all his splendid regalia, his smile fading a bit as he looked into her eyes.
“And we had something else to go by,” he said, looking to Eligor, who, reaching into his satchel, produced a small statue—the piece she had carved and given to him long ago.
“A lovely work of art, Lilith,” Satanachia said.
Lilith could not find words. She simply returned Satanachia’s gaze. The burden of rule had not diminished him. He was just as charismatic, just as regal, as he had been when she left. His opalescent armor was as she remembered it, the five-pointed starbust of flame motionless in the still air. Around
his neck hung a heavy livery collar made of gold and jet, the only indication of his governorship of Hell.
“I thought it best not to put him on a pedestal. He would not have wanted that. Not in here, anyway. There are many more statues of him out there … many more dramatic ones. Here I wanted him to be … accessible. To seem … like he was still one of us.”
“You succeeded, my lord. I was, indeed,… fooled.” The sadness in her voice was unmistakable. Ardat came close and put her arm around her.
“I am sorry, Lilith.” Satanachia’s voice lowered. “I should have realized how you would feel.”
Lilith swallowed, biting back her feelings.
“It is wonderful, my lord,” she said quietly. “Perfect.”
Satanachia smiled faintly and looked at Eligor. Clearly, he was aware of the emotions that the statue stirred in Lilith. And equally aware that the subject needed changing. He started to walk toward the arcades and Eligor, Lilith, and Ardat followed.
The succubi, seeing their opportunity, gathered around the statue and, as one, dropped to their knees. It was a tableau of reverence. As Lilith slowly walked away she could hear them praying. What they were saying, what they had made up for their devotions, was lost to the echoes of footsteps in the corridor.
Eligor cocked his head and shot a look at his First Lance, who nodded in understanding. The Wing would look after them while he and Lilith attended the Lord of Adamantinarx.
Satanachia’s small retinue of aids and courtiers appeared, filtering silently out from the shadows of an adjacent chamber where they had been waiting.
“We have much planning to do,” the Proconsul said. “The host is making its way here rapidly and without rest and we are in the process of fortifying the city. We have one, at the most two rises of Algol before they are upon us. I have had Architect General Halphas draw up plans and these I would like to review with you both. And,” he added gravely and portentously, “with Lord Agaliarept’s aid, I now know what and who we are facing.”
The Heart of Hell Page 23