Prospero Regained (62 page)

“Decline?” Lilith snorted, “Since when can an incubus decline the order of a queen? You are but a shadow, a servant of no accord.”

“So I was … until you promoted me.”

“Promoted you?” Lilith laughed mockingly. “I have done no such thing.”

“Ah, but you have,” Seir replied. “Tell me, Queen of Air and Darkness, you remember Heaven: what were you before you fell? A Virtue? A Dominion?”

Lilith flinched at the mention of Heaven, but she drew herself up and spoke to her minions. “I was a Throne, of the Seventh Choir! Of those who fell, none but Seven were of the highest orders. Even the greatest of the Kings of Hell, such as Vinae, Paimon, and Beliel, had never been more than Dominions of the Sixth!”

The demons in the chamber—incubus, succubus, imps and dark peri—murmured in awe. They were impressed by their mistress’s former rank.

Seir replied mildly, “Once, it is true, Seir of the Shadows was a mere incubus, a minor messenger in the skein of life. But then he was killed by Theophrastus Prospero.

“It was you, O Great Queen, who chose his replacement. But you did not replace him with another minor messenger, oh, no…” Seir’s eyes flared with golden light, and Astreus’s voice boomed from his mouth. “But with one who, before Heaven’s Gates were barred against him, was of the Eighth Choir of Cherubim!”

A rustle of astonishment passed through the infernal crowd. Some muttered. Some drew back in fear and awe. A cunning gleam came into the eyes of a few incubi and cacodemons as they glanced back and forth between the two.

As for me, that distant thing, hidden in my heart, bloomed into real hope. I could not help it.

For the first time, a shadow of uncertainty crossed Lilith’s face. She sat down quickly, assuming a regal pose.

From his position on the rack of pain, Prince Mephistopheles laughed, a deep rumbling sound. “Finally spotted a flaw in your plan to tithe the Lord of the High Council, did you, O Queen of Air and Darkness?”

Seir tilted his head and gazed at Lilith. “Foolish, envy-riddled Demon Queen. Thanks to your meddling, I am now your superior in both strength and power.”

Recovering her aplomb, Lilith laughed mockingly. “Perhaps, you are more powerful than I suspected, but it matters little. A bull can be led by a ring through his nose as easily as a calf. Your great power does you no good, because you must still obey me, for your oath to Hell compels you.”

“An elf took that oath. That elf is dead,” Seir replied.

“Fool! Do not play games with me. Kneel and retrieve the knife!”

Seir’s knee bent, but he did not kneel.

I strained against my invisible bonds, held in place by the mind of the warty demon across the room. I tried to catch every word, every nuance. How was Seir doing this? Why was he doing it? Answers occurred to me based on King Vinae’s explanation—wonderful, glorious answers that made my heart soar and sing, despite the horror of my current situation—but they were merely speculations, phantoms of hope I dare not clutch at too tightly.

“I command you by your oath!”

Still, Seir resisted, standing in a half crouch.

“How can you keep resisting?” Lilith cried.

Seir’s knees continued to bend, but each time he began to collapse, he resisted and rose again.

“Kneel!” the Demon Queen cried, “Kneel, now, or regret it for eternity! All Hell will turn against you. You shall be delivered to the Torturers and, as soon as the Tower of Pain is rebuilt, you will be its first inhabitant. Do you recall what it was like, when you dwelled there before?”

Seir’s knees buckled, and the audience laughed. But he did not fall to the ground. Instead, he stood now in a low crouch.

“I recall that I was the equal of their torments,” he replied in a voice that did not even remotely sound like that of an incubus. “It was not fear of torture but pity that wrung the cursed oath from me.”

“This is impossible!” Lilith cried, alarmed. “Kneel! If you do not, the Queen of the Elves will begin tithing your people again—and only your people. Who were your favorites? Ah, yes, as soon as the Prospero Family fails, Boreas, Caurus, and Mab Boreal will be sentenced to take their Last Walk!”

Seir’s strength gave out, and he fell to the floor. His hand reached, as if against his will, for the cruel bronze knife. But he did not pick it up. Instead, by dint of great strength, he withdrew his arm and rose, slowly, to his feet again.

“This cannot be happening!” the Queen of Air and Darkness cried. “You cannot resist me!”

Seir replied, “Behold how I slip through your fingers, O Great Queen! I am only the beginning. You vaunt of victory at hand, and yet it is your defeat that awaits. Have you not seen it?

“All Hell has turned its strength against the Family Prospero,” he continued, “and yet they have not faltered. I speak not of whether their magic will sustain them, but of their spirits, their souls—all our efforts have been bent upon seducing and corrupting them, but instead of obliging us, they become more virtuous. Our efforts brought out the best in them. They have risen to the occasion, banded together, and overcome the obstacles that we were certain would destroy their spirit.

“When they perish, not a single one of them will find their final resting place here Below.”

Moaning and gnashing of teeth interrupted him. Seir waited until it died down.

“But that is not the worst of it for you, O Great Queen,” he continued. “For it is not merely that they have failed to fall, but that we demons are rising. Or did you fail to notice that King Vinae, once one of the worst of us, has taken their side? Look at me! Rather than us pulling them down, they are dragging us up!”

The demon and incubi in the audience chattered in agitation. Seir’s words were affecting them. They looked to their queen in consternation.

My heart filled with a bubble of joy. My mother was right! Eurynome’s plan was working! Even if it merely helped one wisdom demon and one ex-elf, it was worth all our pain and sorrow!

And how, how glorious he made us sound!

“Nonsense!” Lilith cried, “What you say is impossible!”

“Is it? When we see so clearly that you have failed, and they are winning? Of all our projects with the Family Prospero, none received more attention than the matter of Erasmus and Miranda. All of the malice of Hell was bent upon creating enmity between them—and yet, behold, not only did Miranda not rejoice at her brother’s downfall, she sacrificed all that was precious to her to save him.”

“You saved Erasmus!” Mephistopheles cried in a great voice. “Good for you, Miranda!”

“What you say, Incubus, makes no sense!” Lilith objected. “What could the Prosperos offer you—a fallen spirit consigned forever to Hell.”

Seir stood and faced her. “That one thing with which escape from Hell is inevitable.”

“And that is?”

“Hope. To remain Below, hope must be abandoned.”

I blinked, surprised. His words gave a whole new twist to
all hope renounce, ye lost, who enter here
.

“But what could give a damned spirit hope?” Lilith cried, her voice rising.

“The knowledge that there is a power greater than Hell,” replied Seir. “The Prospero Family has taught us the Great Secret: the secret that allows mankind to escape the maw of the Infernal Pit.”

Lilith scoffed. “There is no such secret!”

“Certainly there is … Love.
All the world was made for Love
.”

Of course. He could not have copied the
Book of the Sibyl
without reading it.

“Love? That weak dove whom I crush beneath my heel? You are a fool’s fool, Astreus Stormwind!” Lilith threw her head back and laughed. “In reality, it is only Power and Strength that matter.”

My heart leapt in my chest like a winged thing whose cage door had been unexpectedly thrown open. Lilith had called him Astreus! Even she believed the Elf Lord was winning over his infernal counterpart!

“Is that so? Then, have you not heard,” he opened his mouth:
“
‘
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing
.
’
”

His words rang throughout the throne room. His opera cape whipped around him. He seemed taller, though his face remained Seir’s, and his skin remained the color of pitch.

Everything within the sound of his voice suddenly seemed tawdry and hollow, as if its true nature had been revealed and found wanting. The chamber became so flimsy that, for a tiny instant, for a fraction of a split second, I saw right through it to the other version, where everyone lay sleeping with tall, glorious beings of light leaning over them in concern, whispering words of comfort and hope. Even Lilith slept. She lay curled in a ball, a stream of tears running down her cheeks and forming a pool on the ground around her.

Prince Mephistopheles chose that moment to move. With a roar, he struck with his glowing red claws at the rack that held him, which now seemed weak and insubstantial. The bars broke. He pulled the chain that still looped his wrist free of the bar. “Stop!” screamed Lilith. “Those holy words defile my court! Cease! I order you, by your oath to the Rulers of Hell, which you must obey, and you, Mephisto, by the oath you took to the Elf Queen to be my slave! Kneel!”

Seir’s voice fell silent, and Mephistopheles sank to his knees, though slowly, as if he were fighting it.

The Torturers were coming closer. I could hear the eerie clicking of their feet upon the silver. Across the room, I could see the demon Malifaux concentrating on me, pinning me in place.

Seir and Mephistopheles were doing their best. Now, it was my turn. My flute was broken. My fan was useless, for my arms were trapped—and even if they were not, I could hardly fight my way out of a chamber full of demons. But I was not without resources; for, at last, I was a Sibyl!

I closed my eyes and pictured the beam of white light coming from my forehead. If it could make the glacier burst into flowers, what might it do to demons?

It took me three tries to feel love in my heart while I regarded the huge warty demon with his twisted horns. The first two times, I shivered with revulsion, and the white beam failed. Finally, I kept my eyes closed and recalled what my mother had told me: that everything, even this vile creature, could be saved.

I heard an odd gargling sound and opened my eyes. The demon had fallen to its knees. A moment later, his fellows swarmed over him, sniffing him, licking him, biting him. Then, they began consuming the one I had drenched in the white beam of love. Released, I slid to the ground.

My entire body crawled with horror. The wrongness of what was happening was indescribable, and there were maggots everywhere. But I could not afford to succumb to revulsion.

As soon as I could move my arm, I touched the mark upon my forehead and pointed at my brother. “By the power invested in me as a Sibyl of the White Lady of Spiral Wisdom, I absolve you, Stefano Mephistopheles Prospero Sforza, from any and all oaths you have sworn. Rise up! You are free!”

A terrible noise like the scream of a screech owl issued from Lilith’s throat, and she began to transform into something quite different from a young girl.

Mephistopheles yanked his arm, breaking the last chain. In a single jump, he leapt over the heads of the demons who swarmed toward me and landed beside me, lifting me up to sit upon his obsidian-like arm. He raised his ruby-tipped claws and swiped, rending a cacodemon and several peri.

Then, we were cloaked in inky darkness.

CHAPTER

THIRTY

The Battle of Limbo

Mephistopheles and I found ourselves standing back in Limbo, to the immense joy of our family. I glanced about but saw no sign of our incubus. Before we could cross the distance to where the others stood, the hordes of Hell descended upon us.

Rank upon rank of incubi, ouphes, imps, goblins, skeletal warriors, and shambling ghouls now stretched as far as the eye could see. Above flew several of the superior lords. Great Prince Sitri, with his fanged beast head, led the airborne troops. Apparently, he had survived his attack on my mother, even if many of his minions had not.

Ulysses screamed and vanished in a bright flash, taking Cornelius and Caliban with him. The rest, who had not been touching the staff at the moment that he departed, were stranded … again.

Mephistopheles ripped the manacles from his wrists, slicing through the metal with his glowing ruby claws. Theophrastus threw him the
Staff of Summoning
.

With his staff in one hand, Mephistopheles threw out his arms. “Demons and demi-demons, I call upon you to recognize me as a Prince of the Sixth Circle. Beware, it shall go badly for those of you who fail to do so, should Lilith lose!” The demons and monstrosities glanced dubiously at my brother. Mephistopheles gestured at Theo. “I have Theophrastus the Demonslayer on my side!”

To my great surprise, about a third of the enemy host knelt and bowed their heads. Prince Sitri spat curses at them, but they remained resolute.

“Well, look at that,” rumbled Prince Mephistopheles. “They did recognize me!”

Of those who had bowed, nearly half rose and began to retreat from the field of battle. The others merely stood again, prepared to fight nonetheless, having recognized Mephistopheles as a Prince of the Sixth Circle, but not as their own superior.

High in the gloom above—I could not tell if it was a ceiling or a sky—flew a black chariot pulled by what now appeared to be sleek golden lions with thick black manes. Within sat the Queen of Air and Darkness in her war gear.

“Halt!” Lilith cried, her voice echoing across the vast host. “Do not depart yet. I propose a challenge. Single combat! If Prince Mephistopheles wins, you may depart in peace. If our champion wins, you will all continue to fight with me!”

Mephistopheles, Prince of the Sixth Circle, yawned and patted his mouth. “Bring ’em on!”