Wielding a Red Sword (38 page)

“But we’re committed anyway, now,” the man said. “All the souls in the other sections will be tortured, after the demons crush them one by one, and us too. So we might as well go for broke.”

“What are you thinking of?” Mym asked.

“Charging them outright. I know it’s crude, but we do outnumber them, and—”

“That checkpoint is protected,” Mym said. “You might eliminate every other demon, but you couldn’t get close to that one, and you wouldn’t have the checkpoint. You would be throwing away your lives for this day without hope of success, and adding to the torture to be heaped upon you in the following days. I would not ask you to do that.”

“But if you made yourself invisible, and took out that
checkpoint while we distracted the demons by our charge—”

Mym looked at him appreciatively. “When you made your commitment to this effort, you really meant it,” he said.

“We all did,” Snowbeard agreed.

“Then make your charge,” Mym said. “I will go in invisibly and, when I have taken out the key demon, I will manifest and let you know.”

“Right, Mars.” They shook hands.

The damned souls charged in a mass. The demons waited for them, then fired their flamethrowers when the men came within range. There were screams of anguish as the men were set on fire, but those behind passed by the scorching bodies and continued the charge. These, too, were tagged with the flame—but the third rank continued. As each rank fell, the next surged closer; though the carnage was horrible, soon the remaining men were grappling with the demons, and the flamethrowers were no longer effective.

“If I could have had an army like that when I was a mortal prince …” Mym murmured.

But he had a job to do. He turned invisible and ran across the scuffled, partly melted snow toward the checkpoint. His footsteps did not show now, for the snow was no longer clean.

He reached the checkpoint. This was in an elevated tower, more formidable than the others, for this was a major intersection. The main reinforcements of the tyranny of Hell would be passing through this point. Flamethrowers, hoses, and pellet guns were mounted at its embrasures, capable of wiping out any attack on the tower itself and of preventing any soul from passing below.

But Mym was invisible, and protected by his Cloak of War. He approached the tower, unobserved amidst the tumult, and took hold of its nether struts and hauled himself up. Soon he was climbing over the battlement.

A solitary demon was there, holding a gleaming trident. Though Mym was invisible, the demon had a disturbing focus and seemed to be looking right at him.

“So we meet again, Mars,” the demon said. “I admit I underestimated you. But I shall settle this now.”

That was no demon—that was Satan himself!

Satan advanced on him, the three-pronged spear ready. “Your little devices are useless against Me, naturally,” he said. “I knew you would be turning up here in due course. I can not actually slay you, but I can put you out of commission long enough to enable My minions to put down this insubordination you have provoked against Me. After that you might as well depart these My demesnes, for you will never have another opportunity to make mischief here.”

Mym knew he was in trouble. He was facing the Lord of Evil in Hell, weaponless. The fate of his program depended on him—but how could he overcome another Incarnation on that Incarnation’s own turf?

He dispensed with the invisibility, as it was of no further use. Then he bit his tongue.

“Ah, you desire blood?” Satan inquired. “Perhaps I can accommodate you.” He thrust the spear viciously at Mym’s body.

Mym dodged aside, and the thrust missed him. He knew that Satan had intended it to miss; like the figure of evil he was, he preferred to play with his prey before destroying it.

But the blood was in Mym’s mouth, and his berserker rage was coming upon him. No mortal man could match the reflexes and power of a berserker; the fact that Mym’s rage was controlled did not change that.

“Isn’t that quaint,” Satan said. “He berserks. Perhaps this will be at least minimally entertaining.” He thrust with the spear again, and Mym dodged aside again, but the miss was narrow. “Perhaps he will even be able to avoid getting stuck for a few more seconds.”

Satan was baiting him, but Mym was immune to that sort of thing. While he waited for the berserk rage to be complete, he surveyed the surroundings. There was a rack of weapons at one side of the open chamber, and among these was a sword.

Satan thrust again, and Mym moved again—but this time with the blinding speed that only his type could manage. He leaped past Satan and to the weapons rack. He took up the sword and whirled to attack. All this was so fast
that an ordinary person would have seen nothing more than a blur before the sword lopped off his head.

But Satan smoothly countered the sword with the shaft of his trident, and sparks spun out from the contact. “Little slow, aren’t you, Mars?” he inquired. Then he stabbed again with the points; when Mym used the blade of the sword to block it, there was another spray of sparks—and the blade was melted. Satan’s weapon was enchanted, of course, and the ordinary ones were not.

“Too bad,” Satan said with mock sympathy. “That would not have happened with your Red Sword.”

Of course it wouldn’t have happened; the Sword of War was invulnerable and irresistible. Mym now appreciated how cunningly Satan had schemed to divest him of it before bringing him in to Hell; had Mym come armed with it, he could have used it to cut apart any entity of Hell, including Satan himself. Mym also would not have had to sneak through the back route to travel about Hell; he could have used the Sword to convey him to the checkpoints directly.

But Gaea had warned him that Satan would not meet him in a neutral arena. Satan had arranged to strip him of much of his power and lure him into Hell—and he had been fool enough to permit it.

Mym leaped to the embrasure where the flamethrower was emplaced. He whipped it about to bear on Satan and fired.

The flame bathed Satan completely, sending up murky roils of smoke. But Satan only stood there and laughed, unaffected, though the wooden wall beyond him caught fire and burned vigorously. “Do you expect Me to be damaged by fire, Mars? I am the ruler of the fiery realm!”

The trident was similarly unaffected. From the voluminous flame it poked out, forcing Mym to jump away.

He circled, and Satan stalked him. Mym realized that the battle outside had abated; the damned souls and the remaining demons were now watching the combat in the tower. And what was he accomplishing? Nothing except his own humiliation!

“Well, I musn’t disappoint My fans,” Satan said. “This is, after all, My show.” And Mym knew that the next thrust of the spear would be for business.

Too bad he couldn’t phase in with Satan, the way he could with other creatures, and put a defeatist thought in his head! But of course Satan could not be fooled by anything like that.

What other recourse was available to him? He was on the verge of defeat, and Satan knew it.

In this moment he remembered
Five Rings
. The book had faded from his consciousness during the excitement of his experience in Hell, and that had perhaps been unfortunate. As Musashi had warned, it was easy to stray from the Way. What did the Way of the Sword have to tell him now?

Cut your opponent as he cuts you
. To strike as the enemy struck, defeating him even as he thought the victory was his, even as Satan thought at this moment.

To abandon one’s own life, to throw away fear—that was necessary for the final confrontation.

To treat one’s enemy not as a thing apart, but as an honored guest.

Then Mym recognized his opportunity. He could defeat Satan after all!

Satan thrust. Mym did not attempt to move; he phased out to unsubstantiality, letting the prongs pass through his body harmlessly. “Satan, your weapon can not harm me any more than these others can harm you,” Mym said.

“Ah, so he catches on to an aspect of his power,” Satan said. “But he can not displace Me here while he remains insubstantial, and therefore this tower remains in My hands.”

“For the moment,” Mym said. “Until we meet barehanded.”

Satan threw aside the trident. “You are not in your bailiwick Mars, but in Mine. You can not overcome Me barehanded.” He spread his arms in a grappling motion, smiling.

“I had understood you to be more perceptive,” Mym said. “I am not going to grapple with you, Satan. I am going to phase in with you.”

“A foolish ploy! You can not govern my mind. I will remain in control while you dance about in futile vacuity. The victory is Mine, Mars, when you but have the wit to perceive it.”

“And when I phase in with you, I will instantly know all your secrets,” Mym said. “All the bypaths of Hell. All your private techniques. All your embarrassments. All your bluffs. You can not stop me from knowing all that is in your mind. Then, when I disengage, which you also can not prevent, I shall advertise that information in whatever manner pleases me.” He smiled. “Now, with that understanding, shall we grapple, Satan? Shall we become one, honored enemy?”

Satan stared at him. “You have been reading that book!”

“It is a good book, Satan. It advises me that proper understanding is much the same as power. Let me understand you, so that there is no further misunderstanding between us.”

Satan literally ground his teeth.

Mym advanced. Satan retreated. Mym leaped—and Satan vanished.

Mym had used the one weapon he retained that Satan feared—information. Satan could not tolerate the truth being known, any kind of truth, even in Hell. Especially not in Hell! For Satan was the Father of Lies, and upon lies he had built his realm. The exposure of those lies would result in the inevitable destruction of that nether kingdom. The only way Satan could preserve his lies was to refuse contact with Mym—which he could not do if he remained here, for Mym would stalk him until he could not avoid contact.

Mym walked to the battlement. “The tower is ours!” he cried. “Satan is gone!”

A cheer went up from the damned souls. The demons fled. It was victory.

The damned souls poured out through the checkpoint, and now the souls in charge of the other checkpoints came to join them. Amazons and muckrakers, snow haulers and fireworkers generated a massive celebration. But soon they sobered.

“You know,” Diana said, “we aren’t out of Hell. We just have a less restricted region of it.”

“You knew there was no escape from Hell by violence,” Mym reminded her. “But now we have the leverage to bargain—and that was the real object.”

“That’s right!” Snowbeard exclaimed. “I near forgot! The Hearing Panel!”

A single demon approached, walking toward them along the highway. “That will be the negotiator,” Mym said.

The demon came up to Mym. It turned out to be a demoness. “Lila!” Mym exclaimed, recognizing her.

“Satan proffers terms,” she said.

“We are reasonable,” Mym said. “All we want is what was supposed to be. The hearings on borderline souls, so that they can be judged and reassigned as their merit deserves, beginning with Ligeia, here.”

“Ligeia to be heard,” Lila agreed, giving the woman a somewhat competitive look. “In return, you, Mars, shall vacate Hell.”

“Not so fast!” Mym protested. “There shall be a thousand souls heard each day, until the backlog is caught up.”

“Ten souls,” Lila said.

“A hundred.”

“A hundred,” she agreed. “Satan shall institute a board.”

“No. The board shall be composed of souls in Purgatory.”

She sighed. “And the remaining souls shall vacate the checkpoints and return to their labors.”

“And there shall be no reprisals.”

“And no reprisals.”

This seemed too easy. Where was the catch? “And I shall have free access to Hell to verify that the terms are being honored.”

“But you shall not interfere further, having verified that,” she said.

Mym looked around. “That seems tight to me,” he said. “When I come again, I shall be bearing my Red Sword and riding my palomino steed. I shall know with whom to talk. I can not lighten your normal loads, but I can see that these terms are met.” Because Satan would not give Mars any further pretext to make the kind of trouble that was the speciality of the Incarnation of War.

The others nodded. “We shall make nominations from
our own groups,” Snowbeard said. “And the animals shall have the same privilege. We shall report to you on any violations.”

Ligeia approached. “I suppose you have to go now,” she said.

Mym embraced her. “I believe I have freed you,” he said. “You will go to Heaven.”

“I think I would rather be with you, Mym.”

Mym sighed. “And I would rather have you with me, Li. But I shall not leave you in Hell and I can not visit you in Heaven. Accept your just reward; I will survive.”

“Maybe I could go to Purgatory, and—”

Mym kissed her. “I know you are destined for Heaven. I would not interfere with that if I could.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” she agreed. “Fare well, Mym.” She retreated, so that he could make his partings with the others.

Mym kept a smile on his face, but now he felt dead inside. Of course he did not want to deny her Heaven! But he wished her journey there could have somehow been delayed a decade or two. In the few days they had been delayed a acquainted, they had come to know each other about as well as two people could, and he knew she was the one for him. If only she hadn’t died before he met her!

Lila was watching him.
“I
am not going to Heaven,” she murmured.

“The Hell with you,” he muttered. But he wondered—was this what he was to be left with? His recent victory over Satan did not seem very wonderful, now.

 
17
 
WAR