He sat in a rare state of anticipation; this was the first time since Sargatanas' amazing decision that Eligor would be alone with Faraii, and he was eager to hear the Baron's thoughts away from the constraints of the court. The Baron was more than forthcoming about his journeys, but it was rare that he spoke of his own feelings.
Algol had just set when Eligor heard the light scrape of the Baron's footsteps as he climbed the stairs that led to the balcony. Wearing his black Abyssal-spine sword on a decorated baldric, he was armored as commander of the Shock Troops. Broad, thick pieces of blackened and tempered bone overlay his segmented torso, each skillfully fit piece inlaid with obsidian and jet. Special vents edged the cuirass, allowing flames to lick outward in the heat of battle. Though Faraii's was a lighter version of the armor his troops possessed, Eligor had seen how intimidating the effect could be.
"Eligor, I am sorry to have kept you waiting," Faraii said. "I was drilling my troopers and time got away from me."
"They are, without a doubt, the best trained of any troops in Hell," Eligor said enthusiastically, "solely for their commander's diligence."
"Thank you. Coming from the Captain of the Flying Guard, that is high praise."
Eligor smiled. He knew that his Guard was drilled as well, if not as often, but coming from Faraii the compliment was gratifying. Eligor also knew that while his winged Guard relied on speed and precision, Faraii's heavy legionaries were a bludgeon, a nearly irresistible force upon the battlefield. Where the Guard was a lance, sharp and swift, the Shock Troops were Sargatanas' hammer, prized and pampered for their brutality.
Eligor looked closely at Faraii's breast-armor. "There is ash upon your chest. Are you injured?"
Faraii looked down and, indeed, a wide, dull pattern of ash clouded the high, black gloss of the armor.
"It is not mine, Eligor. One of the troopers got a bit too excited. I had to ... correct him."
Faraii unstrapped the long sword and, setting it beside him, sat down heavily on the parapet's low wall. He looked out at the remaining sliver of Algol's light as it sank behind the horizon. Eligor saw the weariness in his actions, the angle at which he held his hard, gaunt head.
"Our lord has chosen to place a heavy burden upon us all," Faraii said, not taking his gaze from the city.
"We are at the start of something great, Faraii," Eligor countered. "All great endeavors are a challenge."
Faraii did not respond immediately but instead looked at his feet.
"I wonder if our lord truly knows what forces he may unleash."
Eligor looked at the Baron.
"I am sure he knows exactly what he is starting," Eligor said earnestly. "His powers and influence have never been greater. Believe me, this was not a decision that came easily. I stood beside him for days and nights while he considered it. He is certain the time is right."
"What he is certain of, Eligor, is that he cannot stand another moment of this place and his subservient standing here. And this reminds me of someone else."
"Really, Faraii, you cannot seriously compare—"
"Why not? From what I have heard there were few Demons Major as zealous as Sargatanas when it came to supporting Lucifer. And like him, our lord aches for something he cannot have."
Eligor put the notebook and pen down beside him.
"We were all caught up in Lucifer's rhetoric," he said plainly. Something was clearly troubling the Baron. "Look around you, Faraii. We are all defined by this place, by the fire and the flesh. And the pain. We, like the souls, are Hell's inmates. But we are also their jailers. Is this how you would choose to spend Eternity? As little more than an embittered jailer?"
"Perhaps," Faraii said quietly, gloomily. "Is Sargatanas' rhetoric all that different?"
"I thought that I knew you better than this, Baron."
"I have seen enough of the Above."
"Surely you have also seen enough of Hell."
Faraii turned slowly to Eligor; his face, limned in faint, pulsing fire, was cast in deep shadow. Only the mask of tiny lights defined it. His metallic eyes glittered and Eligor, for just a moment, saw something in them just beneath the surface, something repressed. He felt an inexplicable sense of menace.
"More than you can imagine." A tiny spark flew from Faraii's nostril. The Baron closed his eyes and said, "I am sorry, my friend. I am tired and I would be lying to you if I said that I did not have doubts. I do, but I am also confident that Lord Sargatanas has matters well in hand."
Relieved, Eligor sat back. He picked up his pen and notebook.
Faraii, seeing this, reached for his sword and stood up.
"I am sorry, Eligor, not tonight. I would just like to retire to my chambers. It has been a tiring day. Tomorrow, perhaps?"
"Of course, Faraii," Eligor said, hoping that he had managed to conceal his disappointment.
Eligor returned his gaze out over Adamantinarx. When he looked back, a moment later, to where Faraii had stood, the Baron was gone.
* * * * *
A light storm blew embers down upon the streets before him. It was night and Hani took full advantage of the greater darkness to slip down the crowded streets unnoticed. The thoroughfares were only slightly less congested with souls than during the day, and he made an effort to blend in, to seem as though he were a member of the various bustling work-gangs.
Hani felt the solid weight of the Burden, which was, for now, fortunately, embedded in the small of his back. Had it been jutting from one of his legs or, worse, in a foot, he might not have been as reckless. Just one of the many things, he reflected, that had fallen into place, compelling him to break away, to attempt the utterly unthinkable.
A plan had begun to form while he had watched the demon lord. Div and the others had all seen Sargatanas kneel, but no one had seen why. They had listened intently, hours later, when Hani had told them what he had seen. And when he had sketched out his plan as best he could they looked at one another without expression. He could not discern whether they understood or merely thought him raving. Either way, he was going to leave; there simply was no point in trying to explain to them what he could not fully explain to himself; his inner vision was cloudy at best. He would attempt to confront the demon with the statue, if even for a moment, to simply ask him who he had once been. If it failed, he would be destroyed or worse, but he would have tried.
A few days after Sargatanas had left the construction site, the demons had lit the colossus' head like a giant torch, scattering the Scourges who had been perched upon it. Gauging this as the perfect distraction, Hani had faded away into the crowd. Even he was amazed that it had worked.
Now, as he walked, he felt a raging frustration at having to match his pace to the slower, stumbling souls around him. Far up ahead, through the darkness and smoke and blowing embers, he saw the dim silhouette of the palace dome high atop the center mount, its pinpoints of flame marking its countless levels, and realized that it would take many hours to reach the palace. He did not have any idea what he would do once he was near its towering gates, but he trusted that he would find some way in.
When will the Overseers notice my absence? he thought, with a stab of fear, for the thousandth time since he had left. And when will my Burden betray me? He had seen what happened to souls when the black orb had been triggered, how they had dropped to the ground and, screaming, been incinerated from within by a single fiery glyph. Only gray ash had remained. It won't happen to me ... it won't.