is happening. They have come here to destroy us utterly, to slaughter every demon in hell, and so far our armies have been as helpless against theirs as theirs once were against us.”
Euryale spoke at last. “Count Belial, you make our doom sound almost inevitable. Yet you do not despair. So you must have a plan to stop the humans?”
“Actually it's Grand Duke Belial now, for what that's worth. I am Satan's favored servant, at least for as long as our Lord can evade the hunting aircraft.”
“I am certain that the humans will strike Tartarus the way they struck Lucifer's Finger. It is only a matter of time. I intend to preserve my own forces at all costs and rally what I can of the Asmodeus's reserves. We will move into Asphodel immediately. Zatheoplekkar, you will devise marching orders that avoid concentrating our troops in obvious strongpoints or large formations. The humans are moving on Dis and despite their magery it will take them time to reduce a city of that size. We have some time to prepare defenses.”
Zatheoplekkar was staring at the map, a charcoal stick clutched in one hand. “My lord, we can occupy the territory, but if what you say is true what good will it do us? If the Lord of the Flies could not stop them…”
Belial cut him off. “Your goal is to buy time. Perhaps you can draw inspiration from the defensive tactics the human use – I will have you question the wyvern riders about what they saw of the battle later. For any hope of success, we rely on the efforts of Trajakrithoth and Euryale.” He turned to the hulking forge master. “What progress have you to report?”
The baron had been eager to demonstrate his new weapon, but now the obvious inadequacy of it in the face of the situation made him almost ashamed. He had no choice but to proceed though.
“The humans call this a 'shotgun'. The escort we sent with that first gorgon, they brought it back from earth. We can't make an exact duplicate, but we can make something that works well enough. I'll show you.”
Trajakrithoth raised the black double-tube, gripping the bulging end with a single massive hand. The weapon now possessed a pair of tiny holes in the top of the chamber, each with a ring of bronze soldered clumsily around it. The demon pulled out a phial of powder and tipped a tiny amount into one of the bronze rings, then drew out a taper and lit it from one of the candles. He pointed the weapon at a wall and touched the burning taper to the improvised flash pan.
Flame spewed from the barrel, accompanied by a retort that was deafeningly loud in the enclosed space. The thick cloud of acrid smoke made the demon's eyes water as it dispersed into the room. The stones in the far wall had cracked and now had several lumps of jagged iron embedded in them.
“The weapons we are making now will be easier to fire of course, though harder to reload, as we have not found a way to make the barrel break open” 'At least not without exploding' Trajakrithoth thought, but no need for his lord to know that.
“Euryale's handmaiden described something called 'flintlocks', which would be even better, but for now we are making what she called 'matchlocks'…”
Trajakrithoth's voice trailed off. Belial had leapt to his feet and his expression has furious.
“Toys! Worthless toys!” The horned demon lord grabbed the improvised arquebus from his servant's hands. “You expect this to stop an iron chariot? How am I to defeat the humans with such pitiful weapons?”
Despite his bulk Trajakrithoth was cowering and for a moment Euryale expected Belial to kill him right there, but amazingly Belial managed to reign in his rage. His expression softened and he handed the gun back to the other demon, then grabbed his shoulders.
“Trajakrithoth, I am certain this would have been a useful terror weapon if we were fighting demon armies. But the situation has changed. You must give me a way to stop the aircraft and the iron chariots. You must find it soon or we are all food for the humans. Do you understand me?”
“My lord, I… what you ask… I don't know it is even possible…”
“Euryale, you still those human traitors who claimed to know how to build their weapons, yes?”
“Yes, my lord. They are here in the palace. I assigned some of my gorgons to continue manipulating them, cementing their loyalties.”
“Send them all down to Palelabor with Trajakrithoth. Secrecy is irrelevant now. Do whatever you have to, tell them whatever you have to, ignore any traditions that get in the way. Just find me a way to destroy those iron chariots.”
Trajakrithoth still looked dazed by this radical turn of events; meanwhile, Euryale was calculating furiously. Belial frowned. “The humans draw closer every moment. Move!” Shocked out of his stupor, Trajakrithoth bowed clumsily and ran from the room.
As soon as the doors had slammed shut again, Euryale spoke up. “Are we to continue the lava attacks on the human cities?”
“Of course. Satan commands it. More importantly, it would be pointless to stop now. The humans will be coming for us either way, so we might as well inflict what wounds we can on them.”
“But if they do strike, destroy your palace, would it not be best to stop attacking, make them think they killed you? If your goal is to buy time…”
Belial stared at Euryale. “I will decide policy here. What news from your servant on earth? Has she identified more targets for us?”
“My lord, not only has she done that, she believes she can attack them even without portals. She has built up quite a cult and her humans have been telling her about 'karr bombs' and 'EyeEeeDees'…”
Belial waved dismissively. “Fine, tell her to continue. But I have a more urgent task for you. The humans have revealed themselves to be a more formidable enemy than the Enemy himself ever was. It is time to see whether the Enemy of our enemy might be our friend.”
Deep Beneath the Tartauran Range
The rough hewn tunnel went on and on, descending deeper than Herwijer had thought possible given the demon's primitive tools. The huge armored demon seemed to read his mind; 'It took hundreds of slaves a score of human lifetimes to reach the veins I scried, and two score more to dig out the complex itself.' The huge platform bumped and swayed as it ran on into the darkness, its bronze wheels screaming in complaint as they rounded the sharper terms. The hot, dead air suddenly became damp, and presently the walls fell away as they passed over a rough stone bridge spanning a vast chasm. The torches on the cart could revealed nothing in that vast space to human eyes, but Herwijer thought he could make out the faint splashing and roaring of running water before they plunged into the opposite wall. They continued on for another ten minutes, the monotony now broken by the occasional side tunnel, all of which looked thoroughly abandoned.
Presently the tracks emerged into another vast cavern, but this time there was no water and the air became suffocatingly close. Instead Herwijer caught a brief glimpse of monstrous shapes, seemingly half-man and half-rat, clinging onto the walls of the cavern. Their eyes flashed red with hatred and fear, before they scurrying away into the darkness. The platform began to slow as it passed over the second bridge, a persistent whining building into an ear-splitting scream as the servitor demon applied the brakes. Huge piles of smashed rock were visible to either side of the track, the spoil of uncounted centuries of mining. A dim glow appeared ahead, resolving into a pair of ornate bronze doors set in a carved stone archway that must be a hundred feet high. Numerous burning torches protruded from niches in the stonework, maintaining the cavern's smoky atmosphere and giving the whole scene an appropriately hellish glow. For a moment it appeared that they were not slowing fast enough and every human on the platform braced in anticipation of hitting the doors, but with a great crack they split apart, drawing open at the pull of creaking chains.
The platform screeched to a stop in the entrance hall. Great carved columns supported the roof of a vast space, mostly filled with crates, barrels and neatly stacked metal bars. The humans stared around them, seeing a maze of tunnels leading off in every direction. A steady yellow glow lit many of the lower tunnels, suggesting open lava flows close by. Swarming everywhere were short but stocky demons, with grey skin and hairless but for a mass of bedraggled, matted fur hanging from the bottom of their wizened faces. Most of them were carrying picks, axes and tongs. They seemed to move with furious industry; they barely paused to incline their heads to Trajakrithoth before continuing with whatever tasks they were set. Herwijer blinked and looked closer. The tools they were carrying were made of iron.
Trajakrithoth spoke at last, he voice filled with pride. 'Humans, know that you are uniquely privileged, for of all your kind you are the first to ever enter the Fortress of Palelabor.'
(Marina contributed the first part and Starglider the last two).
