Adramalik waited. Beelzebub seemed in one of those contemplative moods that he knew better than to interrupt. "Adramalik, have you ever stood on the edge of Abaddon's Pit?" he asked finally with a buzzing intake of breath.
"Once, my Prince. And it was enough." Even though it had been eons ago, Adramalik remembered the overwhelming stench and the nearly irresistible inward-rushing air that had threatened to pull him into the seemingly bottomless gorge. And the fear he had never known he could feel.
"Then you have an idea what it might mean for a demon to be destroyed and be brought down there. As one of his Horde."
"Yes." It was Hell's hell and Abaddon was its legendary regent. Adramalik had frequently thought about the loathsome souls and the way they spent eternity. It was almost enviable to lie where you were destroyed, no matter what your condition was, aware, it was true, but not corrupted into something so far from an angel as to be unrecognizable.
"We will send him there."
"Who, my Prince?"
"Adramalik," the Prince buzzed, "I have given the order for General Moloch to begin amassing an army from the primary wards of Dis. It is my intention to rid Hell of Lord Sargatanas."
The words hung in the air, their implications powerful. This was not going to be any ordinary petty border contest for territory, thought Adramalik. No, this was revenge against a powerful Demon Major. This was to be a war of scope and breadth, a war not only to recover the Prince's Consort but also to send a message to the other Demons Major: the Crown of Hell would not tolerate disobedience.
It was a thrilling moment, Adramalik realized, one that he felt so privileged to witness that he could barely repress a savage grin. This simple order would herald a new reign of terror followed by a new era of stricter vassalage that would right some of the profound wrongs that had been steadily eroding Beelzebub's influence.
"All to the good and long overdue, my Prince," said Adramalik, believing every word.
"I knew that you would agree," the Prince said evenly. "Agaliarept has, over time, given me good reason to suspect that my Consort has fled to Adamantinarx. So far, I do not know how she managed this and with whose complicity, but I want your Knights to find her and bring her back to me. I do not care what condition she is in so long as she is still able to feel pain."
Adramalik nodded. His Knights would be grateful for the action and the opportunities, and he would personally supervise looking after Lilith when she was found.
"Chancellor General, what have your Knights uncovered in their ... tireless investigation?"
Adramalik noted Moloch's face crease with derision as he looked away.
How we despise each other! Adramalik thought. Just as it should be. He is not one of us no matter how much he tries. Once he voluntarily left the Above he stopped being one of us. A god, indeed! He looked at the general, gauging him, and came, as he always did, to the same inevitable conclusion. With all of his upstart posturing Moloch was still so formidable that Adramalik was uncertain whether his Knights, together, could bring him down. The powers his worshipers had imbued him with were broad and potent. And even if Adramalik were to challenge the deposed god, Moloch was the Prince's champion and as such bore his unrelenting favor.
"My Knights managed to trace the Consort's movements to the Sixth Gate, but from there ... nothing. Of course, this is really Lord Nergar's area of expertise. ..."
Adramalik saw the Prince's head drop slightly. "Never mind, Adramalik. In truth, it does not matter. I have more than enough excuses to go to war with Sargatanas."
The general snorted with barely veiled contempt. Adramalik watched Moloch move away from the window and across the room, his surrogate legs carrying him in unnaturally long, gliding strides. He stopped before the twin troughs and without hesitating plunged his hands into them. The blood sizzled and steamed as he searched for and found two objects that he pulled out and held before him. Adramalik saw them and even he felt a ripple of fear; held aloft before him were two of the most feared weapons in Hell—Puime-pe-Molocha, Moloch's Hooks. Each bore ten vicious hooks, and even dripping blood as they were, Adramalik could see the fused-diamond inner edges, glistening and razor sharp, that no armor in Hell could withstand.
Moloch turned and looked straight at Adramalik, a predatory gleam in his eyes. The threat was unambiguous. The Chancellor General met and held his gaze but, facing those Hooks, knew that his attempt to match the general's challenging mien was, at best, bravado. He was relieved when Beelzebub spoke.
"You are both to work together that we may be rid of him. Anything less and I will send you to give the Great Lord Abaddon my compliments personally."
ABADDON OF THE PIT - (Painter IX) - My book GOD'S DEMON is, in theory, the first of three novels addressing Hell. This image is a bit of a teaser, a glimpse of one the second book's main characters. For a variety of reasons I'd rather not elaborate upon here, I decided to separate this entity visually from all of the other demons in Hell and go with a somewhat more abstract form. Primitive masks and insects floated before my mind's eye as I created It.
This digital paint-sketch was created after I spent some serious time with the Painter program on PARADISE LOST. It represents another small step towards understanding that brilliant program but is, by no means, more than an exercise.
Both demons nodded.
Strapping the steaming weapons to his braided soul-sinew belt, Moloch dropped down and knelt awkwardly before Beelzebub.
"My Prince, I must gather my lieutenants and their troops. There are legions to be Summoned, blades to be sharpened," he said, his voice flinty. "I would beg that I be allowed to begin at once."
"Go, Moloch, and stir the fires of the Summoning Fields. And bring me Sargatanas that I may wear him upon my chest!"
Moloch rose, swung around, and headed for the door, the Hooks swinging where his legs would have been. Without a backward glance he crossed the threshold and leaped from the uppermost landing into the yawning darkness of the tower's shaft.
A loud crack boomed through the chamber and drew the attention of Beelzebub and Adramalik back out into the ashen night. Another bolt of glyph-lightning, this time much closer, had smashed into the city, this one closer than the last. They could hear the faint dull cascading of the screaming chunks of buildings as they landed heavily upon their groaning neighbors.
"He is a weapon, Adramalik, my sharpest sword, little more," buzzed the Prince. His body was beginning to ripple and vibrate and flies were separating, heading for the open doorway. "You are my shield. It may seem as though I favor him, but it is you and your Knights that I truly need in this world."
"Thank you, my Prince," Adramalik said. It was a candid statement that he had never thought he would hear. Whether it was said merely to keep him loyal or to simply bolster him in the face of impending war he did not care. It was said and that was enough.
"Adramalik, find the Prime Minister and ask him what he remembers about Lilith's departure. I doubt that he knows anything, but any small clue might be important."
"Yes, my Prince." It would be amusing interrogating Agares. He was not the most imposing of demons.
"I have not yet decided to which of you I will award Sargatanas' wards afterward," the Prince said, only his rapidly disintegrating face remaining. "Be careful of Moloch, Chancellor General. He might well attempt to simplify my choices."
And then the few remaining flies spread apart and he was gone.