Elminster in Hell

'What was that?' a devil exclaimed, shuddering his way back onto his rocky perch.

'Truly mighty magic,' an old, scarred pit fiend said unnecessarily. 'Belike the hand of Lord Asmodeus himself.'

Some of the more junior devils bowed their heads and made warding signs at the utterance of that name. Most stared narrowly down at the human wizard and frowned.

'Not from him,' one of them muttered, and others nodded.

The pounce this time was a single, united thrust of flailing and jabbing. Then all drew back to leave Halaster bloodied and staggering. They converged again, so he could not help but be overwhelmed.

When the devils drew back again, the human swayed, one arm dangling torn and useless from its shoulder.There were chuckles at his sudden barks and capering.

The third charge provoked a burst of silver fire. It was more feeble this time. Only half a dozen devils fell headless and dead. Twice that number were hurled away or fled shrieking. The fourth charge closed over Halaster, and he did not rise again.

The fiends standing with Geryon were just beginning to relax when a sudden flood of blue-white lightning washed over the melee. Devils erupted in struggling agony. They took wing in a flurry of agonized flaps, roars, and groans- only to be transfixed by bolt after bolt of leaping lightning. In seconds, two dozen devils fell.

'Who-?'a pit fiend gasped.

'Find out 'Geryon snapped. 'Perstur, Agamur!'

Obediently, those pit fiends surged into the sky. They flew with swift swoops rather than a straight run toward this new, half-seen foe. A lightning cloud hid whomever it was from view. The cloud reached forth crackling fingers to lift the arching, howling, broken body of the human mage tenderly into the air. White light blossomed around Halaster Blackcloak, flaring to a brilliance that made all of them turn their heads away. When it faded, the floating wizard was gone.

'Could it be that goddess again?' one of the pit fiends y rumbled disbelievingly.

The lightning cloud retreated a little, and Qarlegon's force advanced warily to encircle it. Whoever or whatever this newcomer was, it was now cloaked in an upright oval of blue fire. It didn't seem to want to be encircled.

'That's a shape I've seen Mystra of Toril use,' the old, scarred pit fiend growled.

Thrice the nimbus winked or leaped backward, out of the forming ring of devils. Thrice they inexorably moved to encircle it again, backing it up the hillside to where pinnacles swept up like blades into the blood-red sky and a little gorge ran up to a cave mouth.

'That's the lair that used to be Barbathra's, yes?' a pit fiend asked.

The old, scarred fiend and Geryon nodded in unison. It was the Wild Beast who added, 'Yarsabras uses it now.'

As if the Overduke's words had been a cue, the hound-headed outcast devil he'd named burst from the cave with his many claws extended. His talons formed a wall of glittering blades.

The mysterious intruder ducked suddenly, with a smooth grace that reminded the watching fiends of elven dancers.

Yarsabras sailed on helplessly into the line of advancing devils, to crash and flail and be flailed. At the best of times, loyal hornheads had little love for outcasts-and this was assuredly not the best of times.

The fire-shrouded intruder bobbed upright again to send lightning crackling and spitting among the advancing devils.

'That's a she,' the old pit fiend said suddenly, catching a glimpse of hands raised to weave a spell.

Geryon nodded. 'Your eyes were ever keen, Grimvold,' he said approvingly. 'Goddess or mortal?'

The scarred old pit fiend frowned. 'Mortal, I think. She stays low, where the divine tend to tower high and look down.'

The Wild Beast nodded again.

'Strange,' another of the pit fiends watching from the height said suddenly.'Earlier she struck to slay-bolts that transfixed individual loyals, of her choosing. Now she tries to hold Qarlegon's flight at bay. Why?'

There were puzzled nods and frowns.

Someone asked,'Could she be opening a gate?'

'That's why we're here,' Geryon told them calmly.'If I give the order, we're all to call in all we can, and whelm a host, to seize and destroy any such portal.'

'No!' Grimvold snarled suddenly. He wove a spell right at the Overduke's elbow.

Several pit fiends shrank away, expecting Geryon to lash out with deadly force to punish this impertinence. The Wild Beast did nothing.

The scarred old fiend shouted, his farspeaking spell making his voice oddly echoing and distant, 'Qarlegon! Move your loyals! Move toward the gorge-now! Move or die!'

'What by all the fires of Nessus-?' one pit fiend cried angrily. 'Who do you think you are, Old Scarred- Horns?'

'Why?' another asked simply, as the pit fiends below looked up in bewilderment. Qarlegon rose over them, peering quizzically.

'Look you all' Grimvold said grimly, jerking a talon at the horizon. 'That.'

They scarce had time to look before it whirled out of the sky at them-or rather, at the devils massed on the hillside.

It was huge, tumbling up from far across Avernus. Large and dark, the fist of stone had been a crag or mountaintop torn from its roots.The gigantic boulder turned slightly as it rushed at the hillside.

'Fires above,' one of the pit fiends gasped in awe. 'It's going to-'

'That was the magic we felt earlier,' Geryon said quietly. He put one huge, hairy hand on Grimvold's shoulder. 'You warned them 'he added with a sigh.

The crash of the great stone shook Avernus so badly that they were all flung off their feet.The roaring boom was deaf-eningly loud.The crag struck, bounced, struck again, ground along for a moment, rolled, and started to break up.Three of its shards struck the pinnacles crowning the hillside, then toppled onto whatever was left of Qarlegon's force.

'Well,' a particularly stupid cornugon said from somewhere near the height, 'at least it struck down the intruder, too! Nothing could have s-'

He was one of the ones crushed to nothingness, a moment later, when blue fire brought a castle-sized fragment of the great stone out of empty air to crash down on the height, smearing most of Geryon's force to smoking ichor in an instant.

The Overduke and Grimvold exchanged glances, but neither moved from where they stood. 'She's gone,' the old pit fiend said grimly. 'That was a last thrust.'

Geryon nodded, folding his massive arms across his chest. 'Gone to seek Nergal and his captive human, or I miss my guess.'

Grimvold sighed. 'Do we whelm an army?'

The Wild Beast smiled coldly. 'No. Let Nergal, rightful Prince of Hell that he is, do a little mustering and com-manding.Avernus welcomes all.'

The scarred pit fiend smiled slowly at the old saying. The two old devils stood together on the hilltop as a breeze whipped around them, bringing the scent of death. Both breathed deeply, remembering good old days of blood and battle and torment.

***

The Simbul stood alone atop a dark needle of rock somewhere in Avernus. Her long silver hair lashed the blood-red air as she caught her breath. She was still weak from boosting a mountaintop across half a Hell to crush her foes, a bare breath or three after whisking poor howling-insane Halaster back toToril. Still, even slaughtering a thousand devils instead of a paltry hundred meant nothing, if she missed the one called Nergal. Even now her magics were drifting out to sniff the tortured gorges and ridges of Avernus for any trace of-there!

She unleashed the bolt without a moment's hesitation, sending blue fire streaking across Avernus. Hello,