God's Demon Wayne Douglas Barlowe

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the insufferable heat.
"I need a target for my malpirg," said Furcas plainly, holding up the fiery javelin.
"Eligor, have your Guard place one of those upon the floor below," Sargatanas said,
indicating one of the golden statuary generals he had been given. "I am sure old Field
Marshal Kethias would be flattered to be used in this way."
Moments later three flying demons were, on the instructions of Furcas, positioning the
life-size statue far out on the polished floor farther, Eligor thought, than was
reasonable. He looked dubiously at the portly demon who watched, confidently hefting
the incandescent shaft.
Sargatanas stood and moved to Furcas' side. The short Pyromancer took a moment to
gauge his throw, and with a graceful gesture that belied his bulk he pulled his arm back
and cast the malpirg far up and out into the air of the dome. At the top of its arc he uttered
a word and the malpirg split in two, each gaining momentum as they fell until they
appeared as long glowing lines. Both hit the statue squarely in the chest, erupting in a
spectacular, smoky shower of molten gold.
"This I have taught my troops," said Furcas. "I have ten legions of malpirgim ready to
serve you."
A great drifting cloud of smoke retreated and Eligor saw his master's faint smile as he
viewed the shattered and bubbling statue.
"Excellent, Furcas, excellent," Sargatanas said quietly. "You bring me a great gift and in
return you shall ride by my side in the next engagement, commanding those same ten
legions."
"Thank you, my lord." With that Furcas bowed deeply, his pleasure obvious.
"Lord, someone is moving out there in the smoke," said Eligor abruptly. His keen eyes
had picked up a pale shape moving toward them. Immediately the Flying Guard rose, as
one, into the air, their lances poised and ready.
"No one was left to be announced, my lord. The chamber should be empty," Valefar said
quietly.
The Guard closed rapidly upon the approaching figure.
"Stay their hands, Eligor! No matter who this is, I am reasonably sure we can handle
him," said Sargatanas drily.
The figure seemed to grow from the white smoke itself, becoming more solid and distinct
as the clouds dissipated. Clad in pale skins, hood drawn up, it looked like little more than
a common traveler.
"So this is my reward for my patience!" the figure said, its husky voice carrying easily.
Eligor could not be sure, but he thought he recognized her accent, for surely it was a
female beneath the swaths of Abyssal skin. Just as she climbed the last few steps of the
pyramid and dropped her hood he remembered. Shaking out her thick, white hair, Lilith
looked up at them and smiled. She dropped the skins in a twitching pile at her splayed
feet. "I thought I would melt away wearing these for so long indoors."
Lilith stepped away from the robes and stood before them pale as bone. Clad simply, she
exuded that same mixture of fragility and power, eroticism and fierceness, that Eligor had
felt the first time he met her.
Sargatanas knelt, followed by the other demons around him. "Consort Lilith " he began.
"Consort no longer, my lord," Lilith corrected, the words tinged with the barest trace of
triumph. "Rise, Sargatanas. I no longer hold any position of rank in Hell. My being here
should tell you that."
"Lilith," the Demon Major said, once more standing. The others around him rose and,
with bows, began to descend the flight of steps and cross the broad floor. "I did not think
you were ready yet to be out and about in Adamantinarx. When Valefar told me of your
arrival I expected that you would want to remain hidden until the unrest with Dis was
resolved."
"True It does not yet know of my whereabouts, though It probably suspects the truth. If I
may say, there is no point to my remaining in hiding, my lord. Your power and your
disregard for Beelzebub's orders have made your case plain enough to Dis; the Fly's
regard for you is already deeply questionable "
"And will surely become more so when he discovers that you, his Consort, are residing
within this city's walls."
"Would you have me return, then? To Dis?"
"No, my lady, never. But I will have to impose serious, personal safeguards upon you."
"Thank you, my lord."
Eligor's eye met Valefar's; the Captain of the Flying Guard had lingered as much from the
lack of his lord's orders as from his own fascination with Lilith. But now, with a
meaningful nod from Valefar, Eligor turned and followed the Prime Minster as he began
to descend the stairs. Valefar stooped and picked up Lilith's skins, folding them as he
walked. Minutes later, at the entrance to the arcades, Eligor turned back and saw the two
distant figures deep in conversation.
* * * * *
Lilith watched Sargatanas walk to the edge of the dais and sit down upon the pyramid's
top step. His smoldering dark form contrasted sharply with the pale stones, the many
ebon and red folds of his robes fanning out behind him. He seemed weary, cocking his
head slightly as he looked at the distant, melted statue. "Very impressive, that," said
Lilith.
"Yes," the demon said diffidently after a pause. "Just another tool for me to use against
your former lord when the need arises. Please," he said, beckoning Lilith to sit next to
him. She sat and delicately arranged the folds of her long, sheathlike skirt.
Sargatanas turned away from the darkening chamber and looked at her for a moment
without saying anything, studying her small movements. His carefully composed court
face was expressionless, but Lilith thought she saw, implicit beneath the slowly sliding
plates a mixture of emotions. Is it melancholia? As they regarded each other she saw his
expression change, saw the plates cease moving, the tight set of his jaw lighten.
"So why did you leave Dis?" he said. "And then come here?"
Lilith looked away and for an instant she imagined that her vision cut through the palace's
stone walls, darting across the umber landscape all the way back to the Keep and her
abandoned chambers. It was so odd that she would never see them again; she had spent
so long within its confines. So long a prisoner.
"It's actually very simple, my lord. ... I cannot be ... owned. It is how I was made."
"Cannot ... or will not?"
"Both." The word hung in the air. "When Lucifer passed on his scepter to Beelzebub,
when I became a bargaining chip in the transaction between them, I felt hurt, disgusted,
outraged. But after all those millennia with that thing, I felt scooped out, bereft of my ...
self. The Fly took away nearly everything that I was. That is Its way. And then, after so
very long, the tiny part of me that I kept locked away ... the part that could imagine the
Light ... saw a possible way: the souls. If I could give them hope and nurture it, then [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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