crater was full of them, digging out the shattered stone. Some had already been killed when the stones had shifted and they had fallen into a void, only to be crushed when the stones moved again.
Belial looked down in growing frustration, there had been no survivors found yet and his hopes were fading fast. All his efforts to win his way back into Satan’s favor couldn’t be wasted, could they? Then, he was aware of a darkening, a shadow over him. He turned and looked up, afraid this may be yet another devilish human trick. But it wasn’t, with a surge of relief he recognized the great wings and the seven heads that looked down on him. Euryale had bred this creature herself, using all the skills and magics she could bring. A cross-breed of a Greater Harpy and a Hydra, a mount that had no equal anywhere else in Hell. It had been a gift for Satan, a great mount that was unique, that Satan could use to overawe any who saw him. The seven great heads stared at him and he wondered if they knew it was to his house that they owed their existence. Or if they cared. The implication of the sight dawned on him and relief surged through his body.
“Your Infernal Majesty. You live!”
Satan looked down on the figure below him. “Belial, you brought the humans here! You betrayed me to them.”
“No Sire, I was on my way here myself when the human aircraft struck. They dropped their bombs but I was just far enough away to live.”
Satan stared at him still, weighing up the scene before him. “And you started the rescue effort. How many other Lords of Hell aided you?”
“None, Your Majesty.” Because they are all dead he thought but no need to say that. “But the lesser demons you see here rallied around to aid. All they needed was direction. We gathered the orcs and started digging. We will not stop until we have an accounting.”
Satan nodded slowly and focussed his vision on Belial’s face, seeing the traces of his tears from frustration and rage. “And you wept for me Belial.” Satan’s voice was dumbfounded, disbelieving. “You wept for me and fought for my life while others scurried away to save themselves. Such bravery and loyalty deserve recognition. The realms of Asmodeus remain unawarded. From now on they shall be the realms of Belial. I give them to you, holding them of course is up to you.”
Belial looked around, he was heir to Asmodeus and faced wealth unparalleled. Then he frowned slightly, Euryale hadn’t just created the giant flying hydra, she had bred the golden wyverns, greater by far than the normal breed, as its bodyguard. She had created twelve of them but there were only nine surrounding the crater.
Satan saw him look and deigned to give an explanation to his now-favored vassal. “I was meeting with my Greater Heralds for information on the battle for they can be trusted when the reports of others cannot. I was there with them when this happened. On the way back, a group of human sky-chariots, you called them aircraft? attacked us. Three of my wyverns were killed. They attacked me!” Satan’s voice went into a pitched, intense scream. “I must have revenge. How did the attacks you promised succeed.”
“Beyond our best hopes Your Majesty. Sheffield and Dee-troyt have been destroyed, one of my agents on Earth reports that the human herald Cee-En-En says that many factories have been destroyed. My promise is fulfilled Your Majesty, I await your further orders.”
“Destroy more cities. And your next target will be?”
“Turin Your Majesty. One prisoner identified it as a great arsenal city also. And there is something strangely satisfying about the idea of pouring white-hot lava over Turin. But Sire, we will need more Naga, to open more portals.”
“Then take what you need from the other Lords.” Satan looked down at the pit where the orcs were laboring to excavate the ruins. “And when those orcs have finished digging down there, kill them all. I do not want their stories being told.”
Chapter Seventy
Recreational Hall, Camp Hell-Alpha, Hell
“Aces and Eights with a Queen on the side. Read’em and weep.” Sergeant (deceased) Tucker McElroy reached out and scooped the pool off the table with a flourish.
Corporal Gerry Links looked miserably at the empty table and his depleted stake. “I guess you had to come up with the Dead Man’s Hand didn’t you? That a common deal down here?”
“Depends on the dealer.” McElroy leaned back and tried to make his mind up what to do with his winnings. That was the trouble with Hell, there just wasn’t that much to spend money on. No economy as yet, not for humans anyway. His reverie was interrupted by a whack on his back.
“Hey Tucker dude, Good to see you. I heard you got killed up at Hit.” Elmer Carleton was an old acquaintance of McElroy’s, now part of 1st Brigade.
“I was.” McElroy eyed him to see the effect. Living humans hadn’t quite got used to the idea of speaking with the dead yet. Not in social circumstances anyway. Carleton didn’t disappoint him, the corporal’s eyes started to bulge.
“So you’re dead, dude.” The words were interspaced with disbelief and confusion.
“Sure am. You sitting in on the game? Got a stake?”
“No, unless you want to stake me.”
“You know the rules down here Elmer. I give you a stake, you got to sign your soul over to me as security. Now, if you’ll just sign here, in blood of course…” McElroy looked at the retreating back of the Corporal with great satisfaction, then turned to Links. “Never fails. Too many Hollywood movies. Looks like the game’s over Gerry, want to go for a burger?”
“I didn’t think you dead ones ate?”
“We don’t have to but we still like food. Don’t have to sleep either but its still good to. Demons eat, don’t ask me why we don’t and they do. Leave them questions to the egg-heads. Let’s go get that burger.”
Field Trials Unit, Left Flank, Phlegethon River Front, Hell
It didn’t quite look like any vehicle Edovin had seen before. A bit like an American Bradley but it had eight roadwheels and a lower, sleeker superstructure topped with a bulky turret. For all the vehicle’s size, the gun mounted in that turret seemed remarkably small. At the back of the gun mount was a drum-like radar.
“Lieutenant Edovin, Georgii Aleksandrovich reporting for duty Tovarish Lieutenant.”
The American officer turned around and looked quickly at the Russian. “Ah, you’re our liaison officer. I’m Mickey Marston. Good to have you on board. The ole’ bus will be a bit cramped until we’ve shot off some of the ammunition but it’ll be OK afterwards. Make yourself at home. Got any kit with you? That’ll have to go inside, new rules, nothing flammable outside the armor. Too many vehicles lost to harpy-fire already.”
“Yes bratischka, my Shilka was one of them. What is this vehicle.”
The American laughed. “A bit of everything. It’s basically an M-2 Bradley, believe it or not. We had a thing called the Future Combat System, a crackpot scheme to have a new standard vehicle for the Army that would do anything. Well, the contractor had to produce something to show where the money went so they built this stretched Bradley. Fooled the Congresscritters into thinking something was happening. Then, The Message came and the war started. FCS was cancelled and the production of Abrams and Bradleys got restarted. This was shoved into a shed somewhere until we realized how dangerous the harpies were and it got dug out. Now, the Navy had just adopted a Swedish 57mm gun for a couple of its programs, they’ve been cancelled as well of course, so GD Land Systems stuck the gun in a new turret, fitted a radar stripped out of old F-18s for fire control and kludged the whole thing together. So here we are, four prototype vehicles each with a radar-controlled 57mm gun and 1,200 rounds of ammunition.
“Rate of fire?” Edovin looked at the vehicle, for a hastily-thrown together improvision it looked remarkably capable if ungainly.
“240 rounds per minute. Three round burst-limiter on the gun. Throws a six pound shell.”
“Sir, we got the mount up order.” One of the vehicle crew, presumably who had been on radio watch, yelled out the message.
“Right, Georgy, mount up, we got to go shooting.”
The American Lieutenant had been right, the vehicle was cramped inside despite its size. Ammunition
