Armageddon?? (102 page)

Belial
soon reached the far edge of the ragged demon column and had resigned himself
to remaining ignorant of the details until he next returned to Dis. As he
looked up from the ground a flicker of movement caught his eye. Sure enough, at
the far end of a low valley he could make out a group of tiny flapping shapes.
He spurred his mount to greater effort and it surged ahead, making up the
distance to the other flyers which quickly resolved themselves into six of his
own wyvern riders. The beast were flying slowly; two had flanks marked with
horrible gashes and burns and another had wing membranes so shredded that
Belial was surprised it was still airborne. The riders didn't look much better.

Count
Belial! Aaesurnarthuse's tone betrayed a strange mix of surprise, relief, fear
and exhaustion. The humans... it was a slaughter. Great flocks of harpies, torn
from the sky or poisoned on the ground. Fire lances and iron pellets
everywhere. Ikaarithanjuur went down on our third strike, they hit him with two
huge fire lances... Beelzebub's forces started to retreat... I took command and
ordered a withdrawal. It sounded better than 'I ran away', but not much.

It
is Grand Duke Belial now. Are there any more of you? Did any others escape?
These are all that are left? Belial couldn’t keep the shock out of his
mind-voice. A niggling voice told him that Euryale would be furious when she
found that her prized war-wyverns had been slaughtered. Furious and
heartbroken, Belial thought and was surprised to realize that the thought of
her grief saddened him

Belial's
wyvern reached the formation and they automatically fell into a V behind him,
the wounded beasts struggling to keep up. Mere hours ago he would have had the
flight leader executed for cowardice, but after the events at Satan's palace he
was beginning to understand what fighting the humans must be like. This wasn't
war as demons understood it. It wasn't even the war he'd imagined, a
decades-long conflict between dug-in formations that could be won by disrupting
the human's supply of magic weapons. This was anhiliation, this was vengeance
come swift and terrible to smash their strongest holdings and humble their
greatest generals, this was... with rising horror Belial realized that this was
exactly what the demons had done to hundreds of lower plane worlds, but with
speed and efficiency the legions of hell could only dream of. If the humans
could not be stopped, and after what he'd seen today that seemed like a very
real danger, then the entire demon realm and every demon in it would be
slaughtered.

I
can't say my lord. I saw others flying away from the battle, but the sky
chariots were on their tails. I fear only a handful made it.

Your
two uninjured riders will fly a search pattern and round up any survivors. They
are to return to Tartarus after four days at the latest. Your injured riders
are to stay together and return at the best speed they can manage. Avoid the
humans at all costs. With most of his prized war wyverns destroyed, the count
was in no position to write off injured troops. You will escort me and tell me
everything you can of the battle. These humans must have weaknesses, and we
must identify them. He nearly added 'before it's too late', but there was no
point further demoralizing his troops. Quite the opposite, if this continued
the demon armies would need hope that the humans could be defeated at all, and
he was the only one who could give them that. The secret of Palelabor could be
kept no longer.

Chapter
Seventy One

Dis-Dysprosium
Highway, Hell

His
army was disintegrating, dissolving into chaos even while he watched. It had
sounded so easy, so sensible, to drop back to a defensible line where he could
hold and block the human advance. Demonic warfare had few concepts for
defensive operations, mostly the two armies just attacked each other, but
defense was the only option he had. Or thought he had for it had turned out
that the option existed in name only.

He
had picked his defensive ground carefully, a low line of hills, steep on the face
the humans would have to climb, gentle behind it. It had been good ground, a
good defense line and the humans had got there first. While one of their armies
had pinned him on the Phlegethon, another had outflanked him and already taken
the position he had picked with such care. What was left of his army had
crumpled against their gunfire. His last organized legions had been shattered
by mage bolts and sky-chariots that had swarmed all over them

Beelzebub
heard the scream that announced the arrival of more sky-chariots and cursed
Belial. It was that pathetic minor lord with his wyverns who had given the
humans the idea of using their sky chariots to attack forces on the ground. If
he’d minded his own business and left war to the Great Dukes who were practiced
in it, then his force would not be subject to these shattering attacks. Over
his columns of retreating legions, two white sky-chariots made their pass, a
stream of objects falling from their bellies and under their winds. The objects
stopped abruptly in the air as their tails spread out, then they started to
shed a cloud of small balls that dropped over the heads of his soldiers before
exploding. By the time the smoke cleared, a gaping rent had been cleared in one
of his columns, another legion savagely mauled.

Overhead,
four more sky-chariots were already closing in, ugly, ungainly looking beasts
compared with the sleek white creations than had just passed. They had flown
overhead high up, then one had turned and dived, the others following their leader.
They were slower too, much slower and Beelzebub briefly wondered where his
harpies were, they could destroy beasts like that. Then he remembered, they
were dead, wiped out by sky chariots and a magery to horrible to name or even
envisage. His pride, his flock of harpies that had gained him his name of ‘Lord
of the Fliers’ were dead, their corpses already rotting on the accursed field
of the Phlegethon.

Beelzebub
watched with resignation as the Sky Chariots got to work, pouring fire-lances
into a mass of his foot soldiers that were clustered on the road. What was it
for? His army was gone, defeated, destroyed, savaging the remnants like this
made no sense at all. Then his spine started to bristle for two of the sky
chariots had turned and seemed to be heading for him. He heard a weird noise
that drowned out the wail of their battle-cry a rasping, crackling noise that
coincided with fire burning in their nose. A few trident-lengths short of his,
the ground erupted in a cloud of dust and broken rock, a cloud that raced
across the stony soil of Hell and embraced him. Beelzebub felt the slam as the
mage bolts tore into his body, felt them bite deep, spreading sickness and
destruction permeate him. Without being aware of it, he had dropped to his
knees, and he was too tired to move. So tired, tiredness he had never felt
before, weakness that made him want to give up and sleep. Overhead, the other
two Sky Chariots made their passes and fired two more fire lances. Had
Beelzebub been aware they were called Mavericks, he might have appreciated
knowing the name of his killer but he didn’t and their impact sent him
spiraling down into the sleep that he craved.

Cliffton
Council Estate, Nottingham, United Kingdom

It
had been ten days now, ten days of being forced to sit here all day staring at
the news channels until he had passed out from exhaustion. Even that brought
little respite, the foul presence made sure that his sleep was uneasy and his
dreams visions of fire and pain. The demons had relaxed their mental leash from
time to time, just long enough to see to essential bodily functions, but
Christopher was still unable to do so much as leave the house. Every time he'd
tried the crushing pain overwhelmed him; after the third day he simply had no
fight left in him. The presence did seem to change from day to day, as if
different minds were taking control, but he hadn't been able to identify
specific demons.

They'd
made him watch Detroit burn and the feeling of glee had been even stronger than
for Sheffield. The demons seemed certain that the destruction of humanity was
inevitable and Christopher had despaired. But when President Bush had made his
defiant speech promising swift retaliation, a flicker of hope had returned –
not because of the man's inarticulate rhetoric, but because the echoes of harsh
laughter in his head had rung hollow somehow. Finally the pictures had come,
supposedly 'before and after' infra-red images of 'Satan's greatest
stronghold'. The reaction from the hellish presence was difficult to read but
seemed to be disbelief. Christopher could feel them prying at his mind, trying
to use his own memories to justify the idea that the whole thing was a sham.
Before the possession he would indeed have been the first to proclaim the
reports a hoax, but now he took a bizarre pleasure in telling himself that it
was the unvarnished truth. It was a small victory, but it seemed to be enough
to make the demon presence lapse into a morose silence for the last day.

The
low throbbing of a diesel engine became audible over the television before
cutting off. Someone was coming, in a van by the sound of it. Christopher
jerked his head around to stare at the front door, struck by a sudden mix of
fear and hope. 15 Psyops group perhaps? There had been rumors of a British counter-possession
unit on all the blogs... The doorbell rang, its cheerful little electronic
tones seeming surreal in the nightmarish situation, and suddenly his body was
moving, his possessor operating him like a puppet. He pulled the door back to
reveal a lanky youth with a mop of jet black hair. He looked haggard and
strangely blank. Behind him was a large yellow van, parked on the street in
front of the house and bearing a logo for 'Dynaflow Plumbing and Electrical -
Grimthorpe'.

"Mr
Hughes?" Christopher nodded.

"She
wants you to come with us. Do you know who I mean?" Christopher had no
idea but apparently the demon did because he found himself nodding again.

"Into
the back then please. Come on."

The
newcomer pulled the house door shut. Christopher wanted to protest but of
course he was powerless to do so. The rear windows of the van were blacked out.
He got a brief glimpse of bronze scales and glittering eyes before he was
shoved roughly inside and the doors clanged shut, trapping him in the dark
interior. There was a brief pause before the engine started up again and the
van moved off. He had no way of telling where it was going and in any case the
prospect of meeting a demon in the flesh was occupying all of his attention.

With
a click the darkness was replaced by the sight of a humanoid shape crouching on
the floor, clad only in metallic scales and possessing great bat-like wings, a
twitching tail and face taken straight from a nightmare. The thing held a
fluorescent lantern in one hand and seemed vaguely female. Then there was pain,
something lancing into his chest accompanied by a sputtering crack. Chrisopher
cried out and pawed at his ribs, his fingers closing around a handful of
quills, which he pulled out. The demon presence was still there but it seemed
content to allow him to act on his own initiative for now. For a second he
considered attacking the demon but that would be suicide, it had claws that
looked razor sharp and more of the quills sticking out of the snake-like
growths around its head. A minute passed in silence, save for the sound of the
van's engine.

Christopher
was finding it hard to focus. The creature was staring at him, it didn't seem
to want to attack. Finally his curiosity triumphed over his fear.

"Who
are you? What are you? Why am I here? What do..."

His
voice trailed off as the demoness put a finger to her lips.

"My
name is Lakheenahuknaasi, and I am your goddess." In reality her voice was
still raspy, but to Christopher it seemed like honey. "I see evil has made
you its servant, but not willingly. I will rid you of it."

That's
enough Zatheoplekkar, I'll take it from here

Are
you sure? The count ordered me to keep this one alive and possessed.

This
is how the angels operated, and you know how devoted their servants were. I
will take all responsibility. Release him... please.

Very
well.

The
winged bronze woman made an extravagant gesture and Christopher slumped
forward, suddenly in control of his own body again. The demon presence seemed
to be completely gone from his mind! All thanks to this creature, who was
seeming more pleasant by the minute. "Thank you... thank you..." The
combination of stress, exhaustion and the drug infusion was too much, and
Christopher collapsed to the floor, out cold.

Lakheenahuknaasi
snorted. The earth-humans were so weak. No matter, she would continue later.
She turned back to the magic tome the younger human had given her, unfolding it
and waiting for it to come alive again. The human device was a marvel.
Specifically, it was a marvel of foolishness. The humans had somehow crammed
the contents of a vast library into a single tome, but they had filled that
library with details of their entire magical arsenal and handed out copies to
their most minor laborers. Her tame human had shown her the invocations of 'goo
gul' and 'wiccan pee-dee-ah', which had revealed to her a treasure trove of
secrets. The last was protected by an insidious spell that caused her to
constantly lose track of what she was looking for, flipping from page to page
until she was reading irrelevant nonsense about 'collectible card games' and
'sonic the hedgehog'. She persevered though, as it clearly warranted such
protection because it was so rich in secrets. The task was made even harder by
the casual way in which the humans seemed to mix reality and legend. She was
fairly sure that this 'James Bond' was a most dangerous enemy assassin, but the
notion of whole cities being destroyed by pieces of the sun was clearly either
mythology or propaganda. The 'yoo tuub' and cee-enn-enn spells had shown her
images from Abigor's pathetic defeat – for all his failures, his warriors had
managed to slay some humans. She was sure that if the humans had possessed such
impossible magics, they would have destroyed his army outright rather than face
the demons at such close quarters.