[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
had the courage to get involved. Nor would I have had a chance. I'm sure you've noticed
that they're not at ease having us as allies, either. Sargatanas isn't like the rest of them. He
has a single-minded purity of purpose ... something like my own."
"And just what is your ... purpose?"
"You spoke of opportunists. That would be what we are, Mago. For us, this is a rebellion
of convenience. At first, I was swept up by the goal that he held out ... that shining
chance to go to Heaven. But now ... especially after the battle ... I just don't know.
"When we were fighting, and the souls around me were being cut down, it didn't seem to
me that they were anything but dead, not the living death of being turned into a brick,
either. I wondered, 'Will that ever change?' To me, Mago, it's still very much an open
question as to whether we will ever have that chance."
Mago stood and turned toward a stone-sheathed wall. He looked up at the glyphs-of-
protection that circled the ceiling.
"Does that change anything ... I mean for you as our general?"
"No. You know me, Mago; I'm no dreamer. I'm a realist. I am in Hell and I deserve to be
here for what I've done. As do you and all the others. If we cannot go to Heaven, I, for
one, won't be surprised. I hope that we can. But, with that said, I will lead the souls with
the same vigor I'd have if I did truly believe."
"Hannibal, your entire life was about pursuing dreams."
Hannibal laughed and then winced, clutching his painful shoulder.
"The power I have in the here and now," he said after a few moments, "that's what's
important. Could you have imagined, during all those long, torture-filled centuries, that I
... we ... would be in the position we're in now? If I can better our lot here, then that is
reason enough to lead."
Mago turned back to the pallet and looked down at his brother. "For you, this is about
power?"
"Everything is about power."
"Not everything. Not for Sargatanas."
"That's why he may fail."
* * * * *
He saw her face again and could not believe, with all that he had seen in Hell, that it was
still the most affecting image his dream-mind could produce. Funny, a part of him
reflected, that the Hell inside his head was more potent than the one outside, that no
matter what horrors he saw, it was her shining, trusting infant eyes that cut him to the
marrow.
The child spoke his name and it felt like an arrow flying into his breast, but as it was
repeated its sound changed, growing huskier and assuming a strange accent until, after a
moment, he realized that she was not uttering it. As he awoke he recognized the voice to
be that of Lilith, and when he opened his eyes he was looking up into her perfect oval
face.
"Hannibal?"
"Yes, my lady."
"How are you?"
"Mending, my lady. With thanks to you."
"Are you feeling 'mended' enough for an answer to your questions about this?" another
voice asked. Sargatanas appeared behind Lilith, the disk of Moloch held in his hand.
"My lord!" It had seemed so long since he had seen Sargatanas. He is transformed!
Hannibal swung his legs over the side of the pallet and tried to step down, but Lilith put a
restraining hand on his chest.
"He seems strong enough, my lord," Lilith said, smiling.
"He will have to be," Sargatanas said. "I need him at the head of his legions."
Sargatanas turned the ugly disk in his hand. Its edges were sharp and jagged, and
Hannibal heard them scrape on the demon's hard palm as he regarded it. He seemed
apprehensive about the object, almost cautious in the way he handled it.
"Hannibal, there are many things that I can do in this world, but giving you your arm
back ... to undo the dismemberment ... is not among them. There are ways, though, that
you can, once again, have a living limb, but to do this I would need, simply put, a catalyst
... an object of power that would add the necessary new elements to my abilities. This,"
he said, holding the Moloch disk up between his thumb and forefinger, "is one such
object.
"And how would that be done?"
"I would have to place this inside your shoulder."
A ripple of fear spread through Hannibal as he unconsciously reached for his shoulder.
To enfold the ex-god within himself was a detestable idea, an act that would embrace the
very entity that had caused him so much grief. He shook his head.
"You can, of course, elect to not use the disk. It will be otherwise useless to you ... a
simple trophy, well won, to put upon a shelf," Lilith said. "There is no shame in choosing
that alternative, Hannibal."
"I have no other such items at hand," Sargatanas said. "I am sure one will turn up
eventually, but not in time for the upcoming battle."
Hannibal looked down, considering the possibilities.
"This is our way ... the demons' way," Sargatanas said plainly, putting a hand to the
countless layered phalerae that were embedded in his chest. "There is no telling how it
may affect you. I have never heard of this being done with a soul, and so there is no
precedent. In all likelihood you will benefit by simply growing a new arm ... that is the
invocation I would be using. It would be too unpredictable to attempt to augment your
abilities in any way."
"We can give you a short time to decide," Lilith said, "but the allies' armies are arriving
and very soon Sargatanas will be departing." She looked toward the demon and Hannibal
saw the concern flash across her features. "You will have to decide before then."
Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment and saw the fleeting image of his daughter's face,
still fresh from his dream. It would feel like another betrayal of her to accept the Moloch
disk. But would it really be one? What would Imilce say? He did not relish the idea of
fighting with only one arm, nor could he be the kind of general who stayed behind the
front ranks, ordering others to fight. He was in Hell, and to survive he needed every
advantage.
"There is no need to wait, my lord and lady. I will accept this." The ashen taste of fear, an
unfamiliar taste, tightened his throat.
Lilith put a hand on his shoulder.
"You need not worry, Hannibal. Sargatanas has no doubts regarding the outcome of this
invocation."
"Then let's get it over with."
Sargatanas set himself, took a deep breath, and began to intone four phrases four times in
a voice comprised of four harmonics:
"Ogiodi Azdra ... Tplabc Zibra ... Rnoizr Nrzfm ... Rplalen Bbemo ... Yolcam Abzien!"
Four large glyphs, simple in form but different in color, appeared and began to circle the
Demon Major's head and by the fourth revolution they spread out, two on either side.
Lilith squeezed Hannibal's hand as Sargatanas used the disk's sharp edge to slice open her
careful stitches. With a powerful thrust he pushed it deep within the shoulder until it was
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]