Armageddon?? (41 page)

It
was a kind of demon she hadn’t seen before, one with huge, staring, lidless
eyes and a face below them that was featureless. It was red-brown, a varied
skin coloration that merged in with the background. Then, as her senses
overcame the blind panic, she realized something else. This creature wasn’t a
demon, it was human. More than that, it was a living human, one from outside
Hell. A living human that had voluntarily come to Hell? It was rumored there
had been others but this was solid fact.

“Hello
Rahab. I see you’ve met Lieutenant Madeuce. Sorry about the abruptness of the
meeting.” Rahab looked up, it was the woman she had met before, the one who had
abandoned the hiding place with her friends. Now she was different, she was
wearing the same red-brown clothes as the still-alive had on. Rahab looked
harder, she was also wearing a harness with strange green slabs on it and she
had a black stick in her hands. An oddly, indescribably-shaped stick.

“Who
are you?” Rahab needed to know.

“I’m
Lieutenant Jade Kim, call-sign Broomstick. These are the rest of my unit.
That’ll do for now. You might have noticed we have started a war down here.
It’s going to get a lot worse. That’s part of the reason why we found you.”

“Found
me, how…”

“It
wasn’t hard. Leave it there. I’d guess the only reason why the baldricks
haven’t found you is that they couldn’t be bothered with you and there weren’t
enough of you to make any difference. So, they didn’t even try. That’s
changing, we’ve hurt them bad and they’re going to start fighting back. You
need to warn your people and get them out of here. We don’t have the numbers,
yet, to protect a static population.”

“Yet?”
Rahab was bewildered. None of what she was being told make sense.

“That’s
our first question, you wander all over the place. Have you seen any more like
us arriving? If so, tell us where they are.”

“Do
you know how many people arrive here all the time? And this is a small part of
Hell, a segment of one circle. A small segment owned by a minor duke. A few
more have arrived here recently, I can show you where. But what if they are not
the ones you want.”

“That’s
the second thing. First part. We busted a guy out from one of the other rings.
Tried to take him back to Earth but it didn’t work out. He started dying as
soon as he arrived. So, he was brought back here. He’s not a soldier, no use to
us. We want you to take him in, hide him. Second part. Same with any others
that we bust out. If they’re of no use to us, we want you to hide them along
with the rest of your people.”

“So
you made a mistake and now you want me to put it right for you.” Rahab had the
conceit and viciousness back in her voice. “Why should I help you?”

“Because
we’re all human, because hell isn’t going to last very long. Our people are
coming for us and Satan and all his foul legions won’t stop them. The more
chaos we stir up down here, the less resistance he can put up back there, and
the sooner we will win. Because we are, believe it or not, on the same side.”

“Or
we’d better be.” Madeuce’s voice was muffled by the scarf over his nose and
mouth. The first few hours down here had been horribly uncomfortable for him
and his chest still felt raw and heavy from the atmosphere. The scarf and
goggles had helped a lot, just as they had in the sandstorms of Iraq. “Just an
idle question Rahab. What happens when people down here die?”

Rahab
felt her stomach drop slightly at the veiled threat. “The Demons believe that
we generate some sort of force that helps lift them to their afterlife. Humans,
I suppose we just vanish.”

Kim
nodded. “Not a good deal is it? We can offer you a better one. Out of this pit,
movement elsewhere in Hell, whatever elsewhere is, and a life. We’re on the
same side, just lets act like it, huh?”

Rahab
thought it over. They were right, things were changing and, like it or not,
there was a war starting in Hell. “Very well, I’ll take in your person. And any
more you ‘bust out’. Just don’t overload me with numbers and give me time to
get them away before your war turns into a bloodbath. Turns into more of a
bloodbath.”

“Done.”
Kim turned around. “Bubbles, get Richard out of hiding, tell him he’s got a new
girlfriend.”

Throne
Room, Palace of Satan, Infernal City of Dis

Satan
relished the atmosphere of absolute terror that was building up in his great
throne room. The word was spreading across the halls and circles of Hell,
through the streets of Dis itself, down the great Pit that it surrounded and
into the garrisons that held the walls separating the rings of Hell. Abigor had
failed. Abigor had been defeated, his army massacred. He had been defeated by
the humans, his Army driven back inside the gates of Hell. He had been ordered
to crush the humans and he had failed. It had amused Satan to dream up some
really inventive punishments for one who had defeated him so badly but there
were more important things than petty revenge. He had to find out how this
unimaginable thing had occurred. Was Abigor treacherous or just plain stupid?

The
audience stirred and shrank back as Abigor entered, a Lesser Herald trailing in
his wake. In a way, it was almost amusing, the desire for the other Demons to
get out of the possible line of fire. Abigor walked down the hall, conscious of
the eyes on him as he approached the great throne where Satan sat, watching
him. He reached the foot of the throne and threw himself at Satan’s feet.

“So,
Abigor, you have come to tell us of your great victory and regale us with
stories of the sufferings you have inflicted on the humans?” Satan’s voice was
the silky smoothness that portrayed real trouble and Abigor knew it.”

“Infernal
Majesty, I fear…”

“Good”

Abigor
felt a flash of irritation at the interruption. “I fear that I have grim and
terrible news. My Army was defeated, destroyed by the Humans. Something has
happened on their world, something that is terrible beyond belief. They have
magic that is so powerful we could not stand against it. They can breath on
whole sections of an Army and leave nothing but mangled flesh, they have lances
and arrows that never miss their target, that follow the one they aim at no
matter how much they run.

“Run?
So you admit your army ran?”

“After
all but one in a thousand had died, Yes Sire, we ran. All those who did not
died. Most of those who tried to escape the humans died. The humans have iron
chariots.”

A
thrill of horror went around the room. Iron chariots had caused them problems
once before, problems that had required a succubus, a peasant girl and a tent
peg to sort out. Now they were back in a new and more terrible form?

The
thought of Iron Chariots sent screaming rage flooding through Satan’s mind but
he kept himself under strict control. There was so much he needed to know.
“Tell me all Abigor. From the start.”

Sprawled
on the floor, Abigor started to relate the history of his devastated Army. How
it had marched out of Hell and across the desert to its first objectives. The
strange attacks on the way, the flying chariots that had killed some of his
commanders, the mysterious explosions that had wiped out whole command groups.
Then, the enemy defense line, the fire lances, the exploding ground, the snakes
of iron that tore his troops apart. The way the humans had breathed death, how
they never came close to their enemy but killed from distances. How they had
slaughtered Abigor’s Army then chased it back across the desert, killing
remorselessly as they did so. By the time he finished, the room was silent and
the demon Dukes were looking at each other with profound unease.

“So
now we know the reason for the destruction of your Army Abigor.” Satan’s voice
oozed charm, then suddenly turned to a berserk scream. “It was cowardice.
Unmitigated cowardice. You claim that your Army pressed home its attacks
bravely yet you are here alive to give the lie to that statement. Your soldiers
were cowards who would not charge the enemy but ran away and you were at their
head. You led the disaster, you led their failure. Your cowardice was the cause
of your army’s destruction.

Here
it comes Abigor thought. A hideous death.

“But
I am merciful.” The oily cooing was back in Satan’s voice. “I will give you a
chance to redeem yourself.”

“Majesty,
I thank you. But there is something we must do first. We must close that portal
before it can be used against us.”

“Would
that we could.” The words were not spoken but formed in Abigor’s mind. It
wasn’t Satan speaking but he didn’t know who it was. “Our mages have been
trying with all the energy they can command. It is no use. We cannot close it.
It may decay on its own, in time, but we cannot close it. It is as much a
fixture now as the very walls of Dis itself.”

“That
is not your concern coward.” Satan turned to Memnon. “Tell me your story
Herald. Let us hear how you ran from the humans and betrayed our kind.”

Memnon
stared at the leering, sneering figure on the throne. Satan had no idea, what
hew as hearing simply wasn’t registering. He began to speak, the experiences of
the last month pouring from him.

Outside
the Portal To Hell, Western Iraq

Running.
It was all he could think of doing. Legs pistoning like a great machine his
hooves kicked up sand and grit into thick clouds with each giant stride. His
breath came hard and fast, foam flecked at the corners of his mouth and his
eyes were narrowed into slits as he pushed his body to its limits and beyond in
a frightful dash towards home. His mind was racing along with his body. The
memories of his recent sojourn here on this dreadful plane burned through his
fear and panic.

He
had watched his wing mates annihilated by sky chariots. They never stood a
chance and all their infernal might was no match for human magic. He did not
have time to taste the shame that shot through him. It was not the time or the
place to wallow in his misery. He needed to survive. He needed to get home. He
needed to repeat the words.

Uriel.
Damn the Nameless One. To unleash Uriel on this world in all his awesome wonder
and glory was almost too much to bear. After all who was he but a humble
servant, a warrior for his Duke. And now to be a messenger, a go between for
the angelics made him want to spill his guts into these desert wastes and
scream with impotent horror into the night.

But
there was no time for that. There was only time to run and not think about the
sounds around him, the cracks in the air that indicated some human was pointing
his plastic lance and firing bolts of fire nearby, perhaps even at him as he
rumbled by like a run away freight train. Were his wings healed he would be
flying so hard so fast that the very sinews of his shoulder blades and joints
would tear away.

There
were the more ominous cracks of artificial thunder as human sky chariots
blasted their way overhead. Sometimes it was followed by the deep bass rumble
of human fire magic as it burst over a concentration of Never born and spread
them over the wastes like fertilizer. He had seen one such strike up close as
he ran.

One
of the cavalry servitors tending to his dying mount looked up at him as he
raced by, several foot soldiers were standing by the noble one waiting
instructions. One must submit his will and being to a demon of higher order. It
was the way of things. It was the natural order. The cavalry servitor demanded
he halt and give a chant of greeting and submission. Memnon had actually
considered for the briefest moment to do as he was told. Every fiber of his
being seemed to tense as it prepared to submit as was custom and tradition.

The
artificial thunder rumbled directly overhead and he remembered the death, the
fire bolts, the arrows of doom that could pluck them from the sky as easily as
a hawk picked off a field mouse for supper. And he responded in a manner that
still haunted him.

“Run
you fool!” he spat and his hooves did not falter, did not pause. He simply
continued running, hot sweat hissing as it touched whatever it fell upon like
an obscene rain. The cavalry servitor was stunned. Eyes bulged and tusks
snapped loudly in anger and confusion.

“In
the name of Abigor you will submit to me now or----”

Then
there was the brief sound like parchment tearing or the clothes of some
helpless human wench being rent by lecherous claws and then the cavalry
servitor, his mount, and several of the closest foot troops exploded into a
thick cloud of blood and bone. They were gone in a moment as if they had never
been there. Several of the surviving foot soldiers were crawling away screaming
in agony as they left liquefied or shattered limbs behind. He looked up long
enough to see a sky chariot with its wings whirling over its head roar past in
a low trajectory like a bird of prey surveying the carnage of its passing.

“Or
what you fool? Everything has changed. Our world has been torn asunder.” Memnon
spat to himself in sheer disgust. He paused only long enough to make sure the
chariot did not come around for another attack run but the combination of the
billowing clouds swept up by the chariot’s passing and his own panicked running
had obscured him from its sight and unlike the other higher flying iron and
plastic chariots this one seemed to lack the keen senses of its brethren and
that saved the wayward servant of the Morningstar.