The Heart of Hell

by Wayne Barlowe

  “Agaliarept.”

  “Yes, that … thing … has been most cooperative since we liberated him from Dis.”

  Lilith could barely hold back her curiosity but Ardat’s listlessness was concerning her. Satanachia sensed this.

  “I have had your chambers prepared. Rest and gather yourselves and we can reconvene with my cabinet. But do not rest for too long, Lilith.”

  * * *

  Eligor knocked softly on the door of Lilith’s chambers.

  “Enter.” Lilith said softly.

  He pushed the door open and saw that only one of the small braziers was alight, casting a dim glow in the room.

  Ardat was lying, motionless, upon a pile of soft sleeping skins. Lilith, sitting next to her on the floor, held her hand lightly. She patted it, placing it upon the skins, and rose.

  “We should join the Proconsul, my lady. Time grows short and he needs our counsel.”

  She nodded.

  “You have not rested?”

  “I am not the one who needs to recover, Eligor.”

  Eligor did not press her. Instead, it became apparent to her that they were heading through the arcades toward Satanachia’s Audience Chamber. The way was all too familiar to Lilith and she was not surprised that Sargatanas’ world had been adopted nearly completely by the new regent.

  “While you were in your chambers I visited the Shrine. The Proconsul has allowed it to become a place of pilgrimage for those of us who want to remember the Above.”

  “Sargatanas would approve.”

  But would he? That place had been so secret, so private. It is hard for me to imagine his reaction to crowds moving through that place. And, yet, he wanted them all to strive to regain the Above.

  She sighed. Nothing was easy anymore. All of the causes and beliefs she had held for millennia were being challenged. Her distance from him was almost as great as the distance she felt from the souls she had sought so desperately to help.

  The pair entered the Audience Chamber and walked in silence the long way to the flat-topped pyramid that dominated the space. Above hung Put Satanachia’s huge multi-colored sigil, its interior crowded with the sigils of those demons he now counted as allies. Many had shifted their alliances from Sargatanas to the new regent of the city. Some of them she recognized and a few, the more aggressive or contentious, surprised her. Dropping her eyes back to the platform atop the pyramid, she could see a large gathering of demons milling about, some apparently female, and that surprised her.

  The many stairs to the pyramid’s summit proved to be a bit more challenging than she had hoped—she was more tired than she cared to admit to Eligor. When they topped the pyramid she stopped in her tracks. The females she had seen from a distance turned to look at her and her stomach rolled.

  “First Consort, it has been—”

  “‘Proconsul Minor Lilith,’ ‘Co-Regent of Hell,’ ‘Consort to the Ascended One,’ ‘Bearer of the White Sword,’ ‘Bearer of the One Heart.’ Any of those will do, Naamah.”

  She had never been one for titles, but Lilith found herself suddenly, stonily, set on them when it came to the former consort of Beelzebub.

  Naamah’s eye’s widened, nostrils flared ever so slightly, as she gathered her elaborate robes and knelt.

  “Forgive me, Proconsul Minor.”

  Agrat, Eisheth, Lamatsu emerged from the small throng and gathered around Naamah. Eyes lowered, expressions blank, they knelt.

  Lilith took a deep, slow breath. As it happened, she had barely given them a second thought when she had heard of the last battle in Dis. She had thought them destroyed in the conflagration in the Keep, and that would have been fine with her. To have the Fly’s consorts back in her life, to have these venomous succubi in proximity, was something with which she was going to have to contend.

  Satanachia stepped forward, solicitously extended his hand, and took Naamah’s, bringing her to her feet. She looked adoringly at him, smiling demurely. But Lilith knew better. There was not a faint or affectionate bone in her body. For millennia Naamah had worked tirelessly against her using dark innuendo, acid lies, and poisoned gossip as her tools to influence Beelzebub. Ultimately, she had not succeeded—Beelzebub had relentlessly favored that which he could never fully have—and Lilith had remained First Consort. The irony was that not a moment had gone by in all those eternities in Dis when Lilith had not wished the Prince had listened to the Second Consort and had her banished or destroyed.

  Times were different now. Hell was different now. She recognized and accepted her elevated place in it and recognized, too, these creatures for what they were—dangerous plotters to be watched more carefully than ever before. Somehow, they had managed to worm their way into the usually canny Satanachia’s good graces, and Lilith did not rule out the Art Deceptive. Naamah was more than schooled in that Art and it seemed quite possible that, in concert with the other three cunning consorts, she had deflected the Proconsul’s wariness.

  But how can I tell if Satanachia’s feelings for Naamah are real? How can I protect him from them? And myself?

  Lilith looked at them coldly. It was as if Time had rolled backward. But this time, Lilith vowed, things would be different.

  Naamah smiled ingratiatingly back at her and Lilith wanted to tear her lips from her face.

  Satanachia regarded Lilith. She was sure he had heard the grit in her voice, seen the hardening of her features. And, powerful as he was, he did not want to get between her and her old rivals.

  Instead, he gathered his robes and sat heavily down upon one of the two nephrite thrones that he had had installed atop the pyramid. He indicated to Lilith that she should occupy the other. For a brief instant she wondered to what storeroom or chamber Sargatanas’ white throne had been removed, and that thought made her heart sink.

  She looked at her co-regent, superficially confident and potent, and thought she saw a shadow of exhaustion and concern that darkened his features.

  “We have much to discuss. Very soon the city will be besieged, and we are not close to being fully prepared. While demons and even souls have been streaming into Adamantinarx by the hundreds every rise of Algol, they have not filled out our standing armies’ ranks as much as we would like. Added to that, the cursed Salamandrines have been depleting our troops out in the field and calling them back has proved less rewarding than we had hoped … some outposts are simply not responding. It would seem we must rely on the two resources we have at hand. Our limited troops stationed within Adamantinarx and Architect General Halphas’ ability to fortify the city.”

  “And what of the souls?” Lilith asked.

  “There are many thousands of them returned here, but they are, truthfully, no match for the host that approaches.”

  Lilith nodded. The souls’ physical strength was, unfortunately, not matched by their deviousness. Under the command of Hannibal they had been an effective second line of defense and skirmishers and had evened out the field of battle by sheer numbers, but to use them as frontline troops was unthinkable. Add to that the fact that the souls’ most brutal individuals were, as she’d seen, ruling their small fiefdoms in the Wastes and had no interest in helping demons and what one was left within Adamantinarx were the weaker souls. Not much to work with.

  Halphas stepped forward, map-scrolls tucked under his long arms. Little had changed with the tall and wiry Demon Major. His ornate bone-encrusted robes were, if anything, more elaborate since she had seen him last. Once easy to smile, Halphas looked dour, even grim. And tired.

  “Proconsuls, long have I been working to solve the problems we face. I have scoured every text in our library on the sieges of cities since Hell was founded so long ago. And that includes parchments appropriated from Dis after its fall. I have some answers, maybe even some solutions.”

  Satanachia leaned forward on his throne. Lilith could hear the deep breath he took.

  “I have two possible means by which we may not only hinder the advancing host but defeat them, as
well. Both are reliant upon the natural resources of Hell itself. But both are difficult and dangerous to achieve. First, I have asked Lord Agaliarept if there is any way we can create significant conjuring pits within the actual confines of the city and the Conjurer is working ceaselessly to find an answer to that problem.”

  “That is something no lord has ever managed to accomplish. The conjuring magic is too destructive to be attempted amidst buildings. And there are no lava fields in proximity,” Satanachia said with a tone of resignation. He looked disappointed, as if his own answer had closed the subject.

  “My lord, that is only partially true. Lava runs very deep within the rocks beneath the city. In warrens and vast chambers it flows. Waiting.”

  “Too deep to be mined?”

  “We have almost reached it as we speak! Because of the imminent threat, I took the liberty of beginning to seek it and drill down for it as soon as Agaliarept broached the subject. Two thousand souls and demons are hard at it as we speak. And I am using the backfill to shore up our walls.”

  “Brilliant, Halphas! Well done!”

  Even Lilith was smiling. And of course the consorts were clapping their hands in a disagreeable display of newfound solidarity.

  “Further, Proconsuls,” Halphas went on, his tail stiff with pride, “I am having deep channels cut beneath the walls and into our streets to divert the mighty Acheron so that it may be controlled and flow within the city and serve as additional barriers. I suspect its dolorous waters may have the same effect upon the host as they do on everyone who comes in contact with them. All this in preparation for a wall breach.”

  “But would those same waters not also affect our own troops?” Lilith asked.

  “Yes. Lords Agaliarept and Charnyx … she is a Sixth Tier Master of the Arts Curative … are working on an incantation to counter it, my lady.”

  “Will it be ready in time?”

  “I cannot say for sure. It is beyond complicated, particularly when you consider that it needs to be effective for souls as well as demons.” He looked dubious. “Some part of it may be.”

  Satanachia gave a great sigh.

  “Finally, and most urgently, we must take down the five bridges that cross the Acheron.”

  Satanachia and Lilith looked at each other. Both knew just how hard it had been to reconstruct those bridges from natural stone once they had been dismantled. In fact, they had asked the souls who had comprised them to lend a hand. Not one agreed. Nonetheless, the reasoning to demolish them was sound.

  “Unfortunately, that does make sense,” Satanachia said grimly. “Do begin their demolition as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, my liege. May Sargatanas’ spirit be with you.”

  “Thank you, Lord Halphas. All of this seems promising. Urging you to make haste with all the preparations would seem pointless. I can see you are doing what you can.”

  “And for that we are grateful, my lord,” Lilith added.

  Halphas bowed and moved back into the line of attending demons.

  Naamah put her hand on Satanachia’s shoulder. “Would it not be wise to send out flying cohorts to scour the Wastes for allies and provide protection for returning demons?” She turned to Lilith. “And souls?”

  Eligor looked sharply at Lilith, who said nothing.

  Satanachia pursed his lips as if in thought.

  “No, First Consort, I think not. Eligor’s flying troops are the backbone of our army right now. Our strength lies in our ability to attack from the air. We cannot weaken that line of defense or, if we are fortunate, offense.”

  Lilith watched Namaah’s reaction closely, saw her nod as if in complete agreement. And, yet, why would she have made such a dangerous suggestion? Satanachia’s points were so obvious a young demon could have outlined them. Am I being too suspicious of her? Has she changed? Or is she simply a fool?

  “Lord Eligor,” she said, “tell us of your troop strength.”

  “Yes, my lady, my lieutenants tell me we can lift three full legions of flyers … that’s fifteen thousand demons. This includes new arrivals as well as my old guard. Flyers have been coming in steadily from many of the outlying wards. Word has gotten around.”

  “As the Proconsul said, they are the backbone of Adamantinarx’s defense, Lord Eligor. Is there any way of finding more without jeopardizing our position here?”

  This last she said with her eyes firmly on Naamah.

  “I have sent glyphs far and wide, my lady. We can only hope, in these final moments before the assault, that more find their way here. I will not risk my officers or this city.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “One small note, Proconsuls,” Eligor said. “Our forges have not cooled down since we became aware of the threat. They have been working tirelessly to create new weapons for this battle … long-handled scythes. We have tested them and they are very effective against large numbers of enemies. Not all of our flyers will be equipped with them … there simply is not enough time to put one in everyone’s hands … but there will be enough to make a difference.”

  Lilith saw Satanachia’s face brighten somewhat. Nothing like new weapons to perk up a demon, she thought wryly.

  “And a difference we will need, Lord Eligor. I mentioned to all of you that we now know whom we are facing. The few spies who have returned have painted a clear picture and there is no doubt in my mind. We face an enemy of legend. An enemy that no one ever thought was actually real. The Men of Wrath whispered about a god from below that would come and save them in their time of gravest need. They gave him many colorful names. I will not sully this Audience Chamber with their utterances. I will call this god by the name we gave him when we became aware of those myths. His name is Abaddon and he and his vast army of Abaddim exists solely to wipe us from the fiery fields of Hell.”

  23

  ADAMANTINARX-UPON-THE-ACHERON

  Satanachia’s delvings into the origins of the primal god known to the demons as Abaddon came at the price of much Salamandrine blood. Small parties were sent into the Wastes to ambush them—few returned; fewer still returned with captives. But those who did, laden with one or maybe two tied-up Salamandrines, were richly rewarded. The prisoners were summarily dragged into the pits of Adamantinarx, never to be seen again. So much for the tolerance of all after the War of Ascension—the Men of Wrath garnered no such sympathies. Lilith attended additional sessions after the Proconsul’s revelation, and while they were difficult to witness—while not particularly a friend to Salamandrines she was not an enemy either—she reluctantly recognized the value in saving her city.

  This is Hell. This is what we do in Hell. There are no morals here. No repercussions for our deeds. We set our own rules. This is Hell.

  She thought this over and over as her ears filled with the bubbling screams of torn and broken Salamandrines and almost grew to believe it.

  What they pieced together of the weaknesses of the army of Abaddon was gleaned mostly from meager snippets of myth and even more meager facts. And from those there was little to derive in terms of tactics and less still in terms of comfort. It seemed to Lilith the fate of the city rested precariously upon the sharp blades of its defenders.

  Lilith shared none of this with Ardat. She sat by her side as the handmaiden slept and left only for her most basic needs and when she was called upon by Satanachia. She was not eager to walk the halls of the palace knowing she would eventually have to engage the consorts in conversation. Or worse. Given the proper circumstances she would not be hesitant, now that she was co-regent, in dispatching one or all of them and taking her chances with Satanachia’s good will.

  She knew, too, the time was drawing close when she would have to pick her sword up. If she was being completely honest with herself, a deep and enervating melancholia was threatening to overcome her. And, now more than ever before, she wished her lord and love Sargatanas sat upon his throne.

  * * *

  Eligor’s summoning glyph melted through the chamber�
�s door and whisked into the darkened room, sizzling faintly as it drew close. Lilith, eyes half-closed, flinched awake.

  She stood, sighed, and bent to kiss Ardat’s forehead. She was cool upon her lips and that was encouraging.

  Lilith followed the glyph until she emerged from the palace. As she passed under the great threshold Liimah, Araamah, Dimmah, Mashtaah, and Asaakah emerged from beside the doorway’s flanking columns and formed up around her. They were joined by ten more Sisters of Sargatanas. All were swathed in white bone-spined, armored cassocks with long sleeves, and flowing white coifs framed their ash-dark faces. Each carried a newly forged crooked white blade, which they did nothing to hide as they walked protectively beside her.

  Lilith nodded crisply to Liimah and said nothing, taking in the full meaning of the Sisters’ presence. She found this new guard comforting, especially given the consorts’ proximity. Things were very different, indeed.

  She found Eligor standing in the broad plaza. He was fully armored, ready for war. He had formed a beautiful panoply of crimson armor and in his hand was the graceful ialpor-napta that Sargatanas had given him. She had not seen it in person. The blue flames of this weapon of the Above, nearly as light as air itself, were rippling with energy. It had been Valefar’s weapon and just the fleeting memory of that lost demon made Lilith frown for a moment. His nobility had been second only to Sargatanas’; his lightheartedness was much missed.

  She jerked a thumb at the Sisters.

  “Your doing?” Lilith asked, indicating the Sisters with a tilt of her head.

  “I might have had something to do with guiding them along a certain path.” He looked wry. “I think I know how you feel about your old friends from Dis.”

  Lilith smiled. “Was I that obvious?”

  “Only to me.”

  Eligor turned to face the Acheron. The tall red demon pointed wordlessly toward the river and beyond. Out over the entire horizon a long black cloud hung, blotting out the sharp edges of the distant mountains’ peaks. Red lightning flashed within it.