vent triggered a full scale eruption, most of which is getting sucked through to us. Could be days, weeks or months before it lets up… no way to tell without seeing the geology at the other end.”
It was Keavy's turn to gesture at the map. “If it doesn't let up ash buildup and fumes will render this whole area uninhabitable anyway. But we can buy the crews enough time to dismantle and move the factories. Now, about your dyke placement…”
Cliffton Council Estate, Nottingham, United Kingdom
The screen flicked between grainy images of burning and collapsing buildings, of streams of glowing lava progressing inexorably through city streets and of people running in terror from it all. Some were apparently less terrified than others, because they'd taken the time to record the disaster on their cellphones and digicams. The later images were clearer but less dramatic; they showed bulldozers flattening buildings and creating ramparts from the rubble, lines of fire crews trying to halt the advance of the flames and rescue crews carrying stretchers out of damaged buildings. The montage ended on images of gridlocked roads lined with armed soldiers and refugees wandering aimlessly about.
Meanwhile the text continued to scroll across the bottom of the screen: 'Central Sheffield destroyed by volcanic activity, thousands dead, presumed demonic attack may be linked to High Peak incident. Prime Minister asks nation to remain calm and stay vigilant for any further Baldrick activity…'
'The city has now been completely sealed off by army units. This is the closest we can get, as the government has made it clear that civilians will not be allowed through the perimeter.'
The BBC News correspondent was standing on a flat roof, lit by a harsh floodlight. The sky behind him was filled entirely by a diffuse orange glow, the smoke now completely obscuring the area around the portal. A deep rumbling was clearly audible.
'The lava still appears to be flowing… the fire services are starting to get the fires under control, but they're contending with toxic smoke and collapsing buildings.'
A bright flare appeared in the background, hazy but quite distinct from the central glow. A couple of seconds later a crackling roar could be heard, while the speaker flinched visibly.
'That was probably the gasometer at Attercliffe, we were told that there was some difficultly pumping the gas away with the power out.' The speaker composed himself.
'The emergency services are making a tremendous effort to limit casualties and contain the damage. They aren't the only ones… we've heard numerous reports of ordinary people pulling casualties out of the rubble, in the first hour after the attack… I understand construction workers have been arriving at the cordon and volunteering to help with the firebreaks.'
Christopher Hughes stared at the television in horror. Not that this was a matter of choice; he had tried to look away, but his limbs seemed frozen and the effort brought only blinding pain. The terrible presence of them made it difficult to even think clearly. It was obvious that he'd made a horrible mistake. The shadow government wasn't the enemy after all, they'd probably been secretly preparing humanity to fight the demons for decades, if not centuries. Christopher withdrew to a corner of his own mind, mentally whimpering at the thought of how many people the demons would make him hurt before they were done with him.
Tapton Hall, Western Sheffield, United Kingdom
Since the opening of the portal, Lakheenahuknaasi’s universe had consisted mostly of pain. The first shot had merely smashed a finger in her left wing and tearing a ragged hole in the membrane. The last two had ripped through her right leg, shattering the femur, mangling the knee and nearly amputating the appendage. She had fallen from the sky, trailing a spray of blood behind her, desperately trying to extend her glide far enough to escape the tide of lava. She managed to stay in the air for almost a minute, tossed about by the blast wave and then the inrushing winds. Finally she could manage no more and aimed for a clump of foliage that had offered some scant hope of concealment. The ground rushed up Lakheenahuknaasi’s world went black.
She had awoken to a fresh agony; someone had shoved her hand into a fire. Barely able to avoid screaming with the pain, the gorgon hauled herself upright. The clump of bushes was starting to burn, nearby trees had been set on fire by a projectile thrown from the volcano. Lakheenahuknaasi could hear human screams but also shouted orders and the growling their chariots made when moving. No doubt their army had moved in to try and control the chaos and if she didn’t move right now they would doubtless capture her and torture her to death in revenge.
The gorgon crawled forward, dragging her broken wings and mutilated leg behind her. There was a large square stone building ahead, presenting a wall full of square windows, many broken by the initial shock. She just had to hope that it had been deserted. After what seemed like an eternity she was at the base of the wall, feeling horribly exposed in the open. She could spare only seconds to rest before she had to drag herself through the nearest broken window. The jagged glass couldn’t penetrate her scales but it tore fresh rips in her wings; a pain that seemed trivial compared to what she’d already endured. Lakheenahuknaasi had collapsed onto some sort of cot and promptly fainted from blood loss.
When she awoke again it was to a repetitive banging sound. Humans were coming. It sounded like doors opening forcefully, mixed with footsteps. Sometimes it was accompanied by a splintering crack. They were searching the building and the sound was definitely getting nearer. For the first time in her life, Lakheenahuknaasi was paralyzed by fear of the humans. What horrors would they inflict when they found her?
Great Hall of the Adamant Fastness, Outer Rim of Hell
Demonic laughter echoed throughout the hall, as the assembled nobles took turns forcing themselves into the human’s mind. Servants scurried about with plates of freshly slaughtered livestock and cages of live vermin delicacies. The atmosphere was entirely festive; Belial’s court lacked the sophisticated entertainments of his wealthier peers, but the strike force had taken to chanting battle songs and many of the nobles were joining in. They were not exactly skilled singers at the best of times and the copious quantities of fermented fungus being consumed were not helping matters. No one seemed to mind however.
Euryale had just arrived back from the volcano and her normally bright bronze scales were still streaked with ash. She pushed her way through the rowdy lesser demons and arrived at the central table.
“Ah, Euryale, you return to witness my triumph.” Belial pushed a heavy goblet of faintly glowing liquid into her hand. The fine liquor was made from juices squeezed from the crushed abdomens of a rare insect; it was rarely seen in Tartarus. “The attack destroyed scores of their great towers, razed hundreds of workshops and killed many thousands of humans.”
“Most pleasing, my Lord. However…”
The count continued on as if he hadn’t heard her. It looked like he’d already put away quite a bit of the glow wine. “Of course I appreciate your efforts. Such a shame Baroness Yulupki isn’t here to receive similar praise.”
Euryale snorted. It gave her great pleasure to envision the naga being hauled over to the second volcano on the back of a lurching Great Beast and hating every minute of it. She’d requested a wyvern of course but Euryale had made sure that they were ‘none available’ and then chosen the most cantankerous Great Beast in the stables..
“And what of your handmaiden? Lac-nina-urk-nasee wasn’t it?”
The gorgon rolled her eyes, confident that Belial was too drunk to notice. She put down the goblet and replied carefully, shouting to be heard over the din. “As I was about to say, my lord, neither I nor any of my servants have been able to contact her. Most likely she was killed by the humans.”
The count’s face flickered with a moment of concern before brightening again. “Oh well, no matter. She died gloriously. A gorgon for a whole city seems like a fair trade to me.”
Euryale grit her fangs. “In that case I hope your ‘stratagem’ will not require the destruction of many more cities. Now if you would excuse me…” The gorgon queen whirled around and stormed off, the point of her tail quite deliberately flicking the goblet from the table as she went. Belial surged to his feet and began to summon psychic force to smite the insubordinate wench, but then paused. What if he had to kill her? Best not risk that until after the second attack he had promised Satan was complete. He shrugged, laughed and settled back into his throne. There would be plenty of time to clip the gorgon’s wings later. Hopefully metaphorically, Belial mused, but you never knew with females.
In a corridor of the palace Euryale was also having second thoughts. Belial’s casual willingness to sacrifice her kindred had stoked her rage. True, she was just as willing to send any number of lesser demons to their deaths to achieve her own aims. But lesser demons teemed in multitudes. Millennia after the purge, there were still precious few gorgons in existence and Euryale was not about to allow Belial to undo her progress.
Still, he was not that hard to manipulate as long as she applied herself. Defiance like that risked a confrontation and even if she somehow won the physical contest, she doubted she’d last long as ruler of Tartarus. Losing her
