Authors: Stuart Slade
“Chiknathragothem,
see here where the Phlegethon bends? It turns towards us here, then turns back
to its original course for about 20 leagues, then turns away from us before one
more returning to its original course.”
Chiknathragothem
looked at the parchment with the line of the river drawn on it. The course of
the river was primarily a straight line but here, near Dis, there was a great
bulge towards the Infernal City.
“The
humans have set up their defenses here, fortifying this bulge. It is obvious
they intend to use it as a launch point for their attack on Dis itself. So we
must strike first, to destroy this position.” Beelzebub thought for a few
seconds. “Abigor told us that the humans like to encircle their enemies, so
that none can get away when they start to destroy them. Perhaps we should do
the same.”
“But
Sire, if an enemy has no means of retreat, will he not fight harder?”
“Chiknathragothem,
Abigor took more that 400,000 with him, 60 Legions. The humans wiped them out,
almost to the last. One demon in a thousand returned. Do you seriously think
the humans can fight any harder than already have? No, I think not. You will
take Asmodeus’s Army and move it here, where the river turns away from Dis. And
you will thrust across the river there and move into the rear of the defense
along the Phlegethon. I will assign you three additional legions of fliers for
the assault. And Belial is sending us 80 Wvverns that he has trained to attack
forces on the ground. We will see how the humans cope with fire from the sky.
My main thrust will be at the upstream bend, and I will also move into their
rear. We shall meet behind the great bulge with the human army trapped against
the river. And then we will destroy them.
“Think
on this Chiknathragothem, had things gone as originally planned, we would be
fighting on Earth, far from sight and where the news of our victories would be
sung by Heralds. But now, we will win the fight within Satan’s sight, under his
own walls. Much will be our glory and great our rewards.”
Conference
Room, The White House, Washington D.C.
“What
is the news from Sheffield?”
“Cautiously
good Mr President. Our vulcanologist, Keavy McManus, has measured the lava flow
and its decreasing steadily. Since the eruption started, its fallen off by
around 30 percent and the rate of decline is accelerating. There are shifts in
the gas content of the lava and its composition that also indicate that the
magma chamber is nearly empty and that means the end of this disaster may be in
sight at last.
“Mrs.
McManus believes that we didn’t get the full blast from a primary volcano. Her
opinion is that the structure that caused this problem is a major caldera with
a large number of daughter outlets around it. We got the output from one of
those daughters. That would match up with the description of Tartarus we got
from Abigor and that Herald creature. Where is he by the way?”
“Abigor,
still at Hell-Alpha. Spends most of his time answering our questions or
watching war movies. He’s very taken with the Hollywood definition of war.
Although that Spartan spearmen we found isn’t so enamored, The troops had a
showing of “300” and he sat in on it. He was foaming at the mouth by the end
and tried to stick his spear through the screen. I hate to think what will
happen when our Japanese Samurai sees ‘Kagemusha’.”
“Kagemusha
is supposed to be very accurate actually. But I think Zack Snyder had better
run for his life if Aeneas finds out where he lives.”
On
the great video screen, Gordon Brown drummed his fingers angrily. He wasn’t
used to the way American meetings tended to wander off the point sometimes.
“Mr. President, I didn’t mean Abigor, I meant the Herald thing that was with
him. Menthol, or whatever his name was. What is he doing?”
“
Memnon.” Condoleezza Rice smiled engagingly at the screen. “He’s off doing what
he does best, going places in Hell. We can contact him anywhere we want, any
time. So, where he is can be very important to us.”
“What
Doctor Rice means.” Secretary Warner threw an amused glance at his colleague.
She was one of the few people who had contributed her name to the international
lexicon. Across the diplomatic world, a Condele referred to a long, impressive
and reassuring speech that, on close examination said nothing and meant
nothing,. “Is that Memnon is engaged in an undercover operation of critical
importance and we’re not at liberty to say any more than that in case that
operation is endangered.”
“That
is as may be. But the British people want vengeance for Sheffield.” Brown was
truculent and the other listeners believed he had every right to be. The
destruction of Sheffield with its 15,000 dead, the number was still rising, had
been a hard blow.
“And
they shall have it Gordon. Pressed down and running over. But, we must make
certain that our vengeance is both appropriate and properly targeted. That blow
must make our enemies weep bitter tears, not just for the pain it inflicts but
for the harm it causes.”
Brown
was silent for a few seconds. He knew what the President was really saying,
that the vengeance for Sheffield must do real harm to the enemy. For all its
horror, Sheffield had not. Which gave rise to the question that had never been
satisfactorily answered, why had that city been hit. It was almost pointless, a
minimal return for what had surely been a great effort.
“Aye,
I can understand that. But the British people, they need to see something
happen. Can’t we blow something up? We have the weapons, why not use them?”
Senator
Warner suddenly looked weary. “I wish we could. But we’re in a long war, we
have no idea of how long. We have a rough idea of how big Hell is, and the
answer is frightening. The land area of Hell exceeds that of our own world and
it’s all grouped in one great continent. It could take us most of a generation
to establish our hold over it and if we’re not careful, we could end up
fighting a guerilla war that would last for longer than that. And beyond that,
we have the war against heaven . We can be sure those who reside there, have
been watching what happens in hell and are casting their plans accordingly. We
need to keep as much of our power in reserve as we can. We must release just
enough at any given time to maintain our superiority and that’s it.”
“Easy
for you to say Sir. But the political pressure here to do something is
overwhelming. It is politically essential that we be seen to take a terrible
revenge for what has been done to us. There must be some action we can take. If
not, I honestly question whether our people’s morale will hold up. It is easy
for you to say we should hold on and measure our revenge but it is not your
city that is now a lava pit. Our people go to sleep every night, wondering
whether this is the night that a volcano will open over their heads.”
“Perhaps
there are some things you can do.” From the screen, General Petraeus spoke, the
red sky outside the window of his office revealing that he was speaking
directly from Hell. In fact, the transmission was going out by way of a fiber
optics cable to a transmitter the other side of the Hellmouth but that was
another matter. A scant few weeks earlier, anybody who claimed that a
television transmission from Hell was possible would have been declared insane.
That had happened all too often, but those who had been declared insane were
due a major apology. Now it was a mark of insanity not to wear the trademark
tinfoil hat.
“In
a few hours, perhaps no more than two days, there will be the biggest battle
the world has ever seen. We’ve spotted two baldrick armies closing in on our
defense line along the Phlegethon river. Between them, they number almost three
and a quarter million baldricks. If our intelligence is anything to go by, and
our sources have proved reliable to date, this is a major part of the baldrick
professional army. We intend to destroy that army and we will be using our
tactical air power to achieve a large part of that. That will let the secret of
one of our most devastating weapons be out of the bag then. You have your Tornados
Mister Brown, we have a map of Dis and we can suggest a few targets that might
be highly satisfactory. They’ll act as a curtain-raiser to the main act.”
Petraeus hesitated, what he was about to say could endanger humanity’s best
hope for preventing further Sheffields. “There is another possibility also.
Soon, we will be able to strike directly at the source of these volcano
attacks. We need Special Forces troops to do that and our own are already
thinly spread supporting the insurgent groups in Hell. Your SAS and SBS troops
are well-known as being the best in the world at their trade. If you can ready
a strike force, we can, when the time is right, send it in.”
“So
something is happening? That is good to know. Thank you General, I look forward
to hearing from you.”
The
Ultimate Temple, Heaven
“And
what is the news of the war?”
“The
Humans have done well, oh nameless one, Lord and God of all. They have breached
the defenses of Hell and even now mass for an assault on the eternal enemy in
his lair of Dis. The infernal one himself is massing his army to strike back. A
great battle is looming, one that will pit our enemies against each other.
“The
Infernal Enemy has struck back against the humans in their homes. He has
destroyed one of their cities by pouring lava over it.”
There
was an affectionate laugh from the great throne that dominated the room. Around
the walls, the singers carried on their complex chorus of eternal praise, but
some of the words had sunk home into their minds, numbed by countless millennia
of repeating the same hymns. The humans were winning the battle against hell,
could salvation be at hand? Could there be salvation from salvation?
“That
Belial, he always was a joker. Even when the Eternal Enemy seized credit for
his destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.”
That
was rich thought Michael to himself. Considering Yahweh himself had stolen
credit for that particular prank.
“The
humans are cowering in fear at the destruction?” The amusement in Yahweh’s
voice had gone.
“No,
oh nameless one, Lord and God of all. There is fear yes, but much more anger.
In their own strange words, they are royally pissed off. I think the Eternal
Enemy will rue the day he tried that action.”
“Who
cares what he will or will not rue. It is the humans who must be made to bend.
They denied me my worship. They challenged my rulings. They dared to argue with
my divine truths!” The voice rose into a demented scream and for a brief second
Yahweh sounded like Satan in one of his more extravagant moods. Then the voice
returned to normal. “They must be brought back into the fold, they must be
returned to their rightful state of obedience. If the Eternal Enemy cannot do
this then we must. Uriel has been readied, he is planning his attack now. If
the humans do not fold before the might of the Eternal Enemy’s army, then they
must be made to fold before our anger.”
Underground
Caverns, City of Dis
She'd
been this way many times, most recently to let others know about the new
arrivals, who had slipped back out while she was gone. The new arrivals, who
were doing things that she'd never have believed if she hadn't seen them with
her own eyes. Her thoughts went back to the assault she'd witnessed, how they
had magicked down the walls, then moved methodically through the ruins,
ruthlessly killing and killing and killing.
How
they did it, she didn't know. She'd never been a fighter, preferring instead to
ply a different trade, but she'd been in contact with enough soldiers to tell
when someone knew what he was doing. Or she, in the case of this Kim. And,
during her six to ten thousand years as a free person in Hell – she wasn't sure
how many; the centuries blurred together now – she'd made contacts, and met
quite a few military men. Most had been just the humble rank-and-file, but not
all. Some had been great leaders and one of them was just down the passage. In
this small underground city hewn from the natural cave network beneath this
spur of the giant encircling city of Dis, the torches lit the dark passage with
a flickering, orange light that played off the dry stone tunnel; above them was
thousands of years' worth of soot staining the rock.
The
passage branched; before turning left, Rahab looked at the symbol scratched in
the rock, as much out of habit as to remind herself; she'd been this way many,
many times over the centuries to consult with the man who lived at its end,
behind the simple wooden door that was before her now. She knocked twice, then
thrice, a code as old as the resistance. If it's so old, how do we know they
don't know? That was a disturbing thought, of the kind she'd been having more
and more since the newcomers had arrived with their strange ways.
The
door cracked open; a man with heavy eyebrows and what seemed a perpetual frown
peered out underneath short golden curls. His face softened as much as it could
when he saw who had knocked. “Ah, Rahab. Please come in.” He opened the door
wider to allow her to enter, and then shut it behind her.
The
room was much like the one she'd left a few minutes before, except that in the
fireplace was a fire. In front of the fire was positioned a large wooden table
strewn over with piles of dried clay tablets and some parchments. Sitting
hunched with his back to her, carefully impressing on a wet tablet with a
stylus, was a lithe man of average height, with thin black hair. Standing
behind him and looking over his shoulder was a tall, dark, man with a short
crew cut and a jutting chin.