GATE: the clash of the titans V2

by Qun Nguyn1

Mostly AUs. A Gate has opened in Tokyo by a Roman-esque Empire, familiar scenario with familiar faces but the people marched through the Gate is from a vastly more powerful magic world. The stage is set. Earth Alliance vs The Holy Empire. Science vs Magic. The power of the thousand sun vs The Beast of the Apocalypse. Let the clash of Titans begin. Let the worlds have War.

35. Chapter 36: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 36: The Beginning of the End

Note:

Yes, the Holy Empire beat the Empire of the Rising Sun in Red Alert. Unless they can time travel.

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Congressman José Luís Ferreira, R-Texas, was concerned about just how to take care of the veterans of the Falmart War. This war is being fought on a bigger scale than World War II. Also, today's American military, for the first time in history, has a very substantial portion of foreign soldiers, albeit ones rapidly gaining US citizenship. These new soldiers, just like any other American troops, need to have some provisions for education and medical care for their injuries. Time for a new GI Bill, Ferreira thought.

Here are the main provisions of the Falmart War GI Bill:

1. VA disability rating decisions are to be made on the spot. Veterans take their discharges and medical records to their county veterans' service office, where a county veterans' service officer looks at the record and makes an initial decision. If a physical examination is needed, it is done at the nearest VA medical facility and the veteran takes the results back to the county veterans' service officer, who can only adjust the rating upward, not downward. Ratings will be done in accordance with a standard rating scale. The veteran can always appeal a rating that seems too low to the VA. All cases of doubt shall be decided in favor of the veteran.

2. Veterans who have honorably served at least 180 days shall be entitled to four years (48 months) of college education, vocational training or a combination of both. This covers tuition, needed books, required fees, basic school supplies, basic dormitory/board (as applicable) and living allowance for the veteran and dependents. Colleges who have accepted any Federal money in the past shall not charge a veteran student one penny for tuition, required fees, needed books, basic school supplies, and basic dormitory/board (as applicable). In addition, veterans who are former foreign soldiers shall be entitled to up to two years of college-preparatory training in addition to the 48 months of college/vocational training. Veterans have priority for college/vocational training/college preparatory admissions over non-veterans. Disabled veterans (minimum 10%) have priority over non-disabled veterans.

3. VA housing loans will be available for veterans who have honorably served at least 180 days. The amount of the loan shall be enough to purchase a medium-priced new home as a residence in the area where the veteran will live. If needed, the cost of modifying a home to accommodate a severely injured veteran will be paid by the VA. Veterans must have proof of income sufficient to make the loan payments. Loans shall be interest-free to the veteran and the veteran pays no closing costs. The VA pays the interest (no higher than the prime rate at the time of closing) and closing costs.

4. Veterans who have honorably served at least 180 days have preference for government employment at all levels (city, county, state, and Federal), upon presentation of discharge papers. Disabled veterans (10% minimum) have priority over non-disabled veterans.

5. The VA medical system will be expanded as needed to meet the medical needs of Falmart War veterans. (Casualties have been low so far, but the future can't be guaranteed.)

Congressman José Luís Ferreira knew this new GI Bill wouldn't be cheap. But he remembered how the millions of World War II veterans used their GI Bill benefits to help power an amazing American economic boom, and believed this war's veterans could do the same thing. Ferreira also believed in giving the former foreign soldiers an even break for college through the preparatory training. "The rising tide lifts all boats." And, anyway, these veterans have paid for their benefits in a coin far dearer then mere money.

—Excerpts from "Paying the debt that can't be paid" by Empress Shizuka

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War Room, Imperial High Command, Ula Pianca (Imperial Subterranean Castle )

Entering the room in an unusually dull fashion for a royalty, Prince Ainsworth glanced around the room and sighed. As he expected, the other officers were late, probably because of the Unification Day party last night. He glanced at the clock. Rather, they would be late in three minutes.

From his vantage point in the corner, he observed the few who had any semblance of punctuality, seated between dozens of empty chairs. Mostly, there were aides, stationed along the wall and prepared to wax excuses should anyone important ask. On the opposite side of the room, a High Elf diligently worked on his magic typewriter. Five roses on his epaulettes, so he is a Generalissimus and based on his livery collar, he also is a Duke.

The door banged against the wall, and the Minister of Defence, uncle Zorzal El Caesar stormed inside, his knights on his heels. The Elf immediately snapped his typewriter shut and rose to attention. The rest of the room immediately followed, eyes lowered respectfully. The Prime Minister, uncle Diabo El Caesar, closed the door softly behind him and observed the room.

The young Ainsworth pushed off the wall to play the game of pleasantries. Uncle Zorzal pulled out his golden pocket watch, forcing them to hold their salute, and tapped his foot. He snapped it close and glared. "Where is everyone, Generalissimus Esses ?"

The man's eyes flicked to his typewriter momentarily. "Sky Lord Sipir Shikoh was with Princess Élodie earlier to discuss recent activities of the UEAADF. As for the others, I do not know, Your Highness."

Zorzal nodded, and his sharp gaze drifted to the aides. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

A string of excuses filled the room.

"You have five minutes to get your superiors in this room before I charge them with dereliction of duty."

The room emptied, leaving only Generalissimus Esses and two other lowly officers with overflowing briefcases. The duke met his eyes briefly and after a stern nod, reopened his magic typewriter and resumed working. Ainsworth had to admire the duke productivity. It was a talent in short supply, especially among the high nobility these days.

"You," Zorzal snarled and grabbed Ainsworth's shoulder, pushing him into the adjoining room. "What do you think you're playing ? releasing the crime lords and wipe their records clean."

"I'm doing the Empire a favor, Uncle." Ainsworth answered slowly. "And believe me, Uncle! I don't like this more than you but we have to act first. Our force are stretched thin, we don't have the manpower needed to control the underworld. It's better for them to be on our side than not."

"They're a bunch of Scum!" Zorzal hissed.

"A bunch of resourceful scum." Ainsworth interrupted, unable to help himself. Uncle Zorzal was sometimes too rigid with the rules to the detriment of the Empire. This was not the time for rules and tradition if we wanted to survive.

"Don't make excuses," Zorzal snarled. "I will have this thing investigated. If you're forthcoming right now, I will abstain from mentioning your name in the investigation."

"Given that His Majesty was the one who ordered this, you would be wasting your time." At his Uncle startled expression, Ainsworth smirked. Uncle Zorzal would regain his footing momentarily, affording Ainsworth only a brief moment to make his case or risk an hour long lecture.

"This is a authorised operation," he repeated. "By His Majesty himself. Desperate times call for desperate measures, we must not limit ourselves to conventional ways in protecting the Empire. Those criminals have very wide smuggling networks. It's better for us to co-opt their talent before our enemy do."

Zorzal crossed his arms, his eyebrows drawing together, not sure how to response. The Emperor decree was absolute but working with the criminals was a dishonorable act. How could a prince like him working with those lowly criminals.

Finally, Zorzal stepped forward, his breath warming the boy skin. "If this is a lie, I will bury you in investigations until you beg for death. Do you understand?"

His guards shifted nervously, but Ainsworth met his uncle fiery gaze without flinching. "Then it's a good thing I'm not, Uncle."

Zorzal huffed and stomped into the conference room. The five minutes had definitely passed, and there were still ten glaring empty chairs.

Ainsworth handed his cape to his aide and took a seat. If he had been smart like Generalissimus Esses, then Ainsworth would have brought some paperwork along to keep himself busy. Well, there was still tomorrow.

Italica Base, Lemuria, Falmart

In a small room intended for servants, not princess, Pina changed into her dress uniform under the harsh eyes of her guard knights. They were not friends at this moment, not when both of them were brimming with barely restrained anger. It would be a long time until they trusted her again to leave their sight.

"Are you ready, Your Highness?" Bozes asked.

Pina dropped her hand and the silk fluttered away. "We're alone. There's no need to be so formal, Bozes."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I'm sorry," Pina whispered.

The blonde knight crossed her arms. "Princess, what in the name of the Emperor were you thinking? Not only did you steal mana crystals from the armory, but also a copy of the forbidden Grimoire of the Death. The dark art of Necromancy is forbidden by the Holy Order's decree. What you did was heresy. If you weren't an imperial princess, you'd be burned alive by now."

"It's for the greater good." Pina shrugged and rested her hand on the door. "I'm sorry for causing you such stress. It was inconsiderate of me."

"Revive dead UEADF soldiers is not a mere inconsideration, it's heresy." Bozes snapped. Grudgingly, she added, "Your Highness."

"This is different," Pina whispered. "Dead Recollection is not a spell to bring the dead back to life, it just extracts their memories. We need accurate intelligence on the enemy and the dead can't lie. Besides, trying to capture the enemy alive is too costly, this way cost a lot less."

For a moment, Bozes faltered. For the longest time, she knew Princess Pina wasn't a normal princess. Her Highness enjoyed a colorful reputation as an engaging eccentric, but this was too far. Her Highness was playing with the forces beyond comprehension. His Majesty had pampered Princess Pina too much despite her many reckless and unladylike behaviors.

This madness must be stopped before Her Highness gone truly too far. The forbidden Grimoire of the Death isn't a toy for the mere mortal like her. It is a stolen artifact from the Hidden Library deep within the Realm of the Sorcerer.

Ancient legends recounted that the Realm of the Sorcerer is like no other dominion within the immaterial lands of the Aethyr. Innumerable dimensions and uncounted worlds collide with one another atop an iridescent plateau, and it is here the Crystal Labyrinth awaits.

Only those of the strongest will can navigate its endless corridors, for the walls reflect not only light, but also hope, despair, dreams, madness, wonder and terror.

The route to its center is always changing, and no physical harm awaits those who select the wrong divergence in the path, but to be trapped in the labyrinth is to be trapped in a place of infinite possibility, a kaleidoscope of fates completely antithetical to a sane mind.

Many have entered the Crystal Maze, mortal wanderers and armies of demons from rival gods. Within its twisting passages the air is thick with a murky soup of broken dreams, and it glimmers with the light of fractal shards of shattered personality, this is all that remains of those who entered the labyrinth but never left.

Yet if the proper path is taken, or the mind of a traveler simply too insane for the designs of Tzeentch to have effect, then the heart of the Labyrinth might be found, the site from which every tangled filament extends; The Impossible Fortress.

The Realm of Chaos is beyond the comprehension of any living being, so all who tread within it will perceive its tortured landscapes differently. The Impossible Fortress however, is a madness beyond any comparison. It is a scintillating bastion that reflects the aspirations of those who behold it.

Some will see a castle whose walls are of the same shimmering crystal as the labyrinth that surrounds it. Others see foundations of living blue flame or gnarled azure gems. But no matter from what material it is constructed, the Fortress is in a state of constant insanity.

The structure of the Impossible Fortress is always in flux, impossible objects intertwine with echoes of infinity. It is perfectly symmetrical, yet horribly unbalanced. Spires and towers reflect themselves into being, bursting from the heart of the fortress only to be reabsorbed moments later.

Gatehouses and battlements, windows and arrowslits, all spring into being, windows glow with evidence of inner workings, only to fold inwards on themselves, lost in the eldritch constructs that rise to replace them.

If there is a pattern to the shifting nature of the Fortress, it is known only to Tzeentch himself, and is likely somehow bound to the state of his current schemes and lies. If this is so, then it is beyond any prediction.

The interior of the fortress is every bit as incomprehensible; its passages, halls and chambers continually transform themselves and blend together. Different rooms follow different laws with the very nature of gravity, time and mass changing or disappearing with every step.

What gravity decrees is up in one room might be down in another. Hallways might lead to the forgotten past or distant future. They can stretch to infinity or shrink down to oblivion.

Other chambers are even stranger, existing in inexpressible states of sorrow, dignity, truth or introspection. Neither mortal beings nor demons can exist for long in such a place, for even a stray thought from Tzeentch might pull apart those locked in physical or magical form.

Inevitably, trespassers will be consumed by an ecstatic, incandescent madness in an implosion of consciousness and form. Those who succumb within the fortress are sometimes reborn as sorceress familiars and gifted to Champions of Tzeentch in the mortal world.

A single perplexing room within the Impossible Fortress can be enough to halt even the most formidable invasion by the other ruinous powers, and hundreds of such chambers must be navigated before the residence or Tzeentch himself can be entered.

The Great Conspirator contemplates infinity within a vast Hidden Library, a single repository in which every scrap of knowledge, every thought and deed might be found. An army of demons tends to this collection, yet even they can not exist here for long.

The Library is in some sense, a living entity, and its endless books and grimoires whisper to their keepers, trapping them in webs of deceit and rumor. With each deamon that flickers out of existence, the Library grows stronger.

Camp Hell-One, Hellgate, Falmart

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Tommy looked at Itami like this was some kind of joke and shouted. He couldn't be serious. This was not the time to make a joke and it wasn't even funny. At best this was absence without leave. At worst, a clear case of dereliction of duty.

"No, I'm not." Itami replied defensively. "I already filled out the leave form and my request have been approved." Thanks to the old man's vast connection within UEADF. "You'll be the acting commander of Camp Hell-One while I'm on leave."

"Unbelievable!" Tommy snapped. "You're really doing this !? right now, in the middle of a fucking war. Do you know how bad this looks !? An UEADF general asking for leave in the middle of a war to take care of his wounded lover. A lover that not only comes from a recently hostile country but also looks like a 13 year-old child. Your reputation will be ruined once the press finds out. All for that immortal bitch! You lolicon moron!"

"The battle is over, we've won." Itami shot back. "You can call me whatever you want but DO NOT disrespect her. We all owe her our lives. Without Rory and the others, this battle would have been lost. This is the least I can do to repay her."

Tommy stopped himself, they owed her their lives. Without Rory, Pandemonium would tear them all apart. Not willing to concede his lost yet, he continued. "But what can you do? You're not a wizard, you're not even a physician. There is nothing you can do, let other apostles take care of her."

"I don't know!" He admitted, "But I have to be with her. She became like this is because of me, I have to take responsibility." Itami was blaming himself for what happened. Rory became like this because she tried to save him.

Realizing this, Tommy lowered his voice and tried to comfort his friend. "It's not your fault, Yoji. This is war, there is always risk. You can't blame yourself for what happened."

"I know...but...I'm sorry Tom!" Itami closed his eyes and turned away. "I just can't fulfill my duty as a soldier if I don't know she will be safe!" Itami knew this was political suicide. He knew what he was doing was irrational, He knew in reality there was nothing he could do but the guilt was consuming him. He felt the illogical need to confirm Rory would be safe. The uncertainty terrified him.

"Fool!"

"You really are a fool, aren't you !?"

What else could he say? What more could he say to convince his grieving friend that this was a foolish ideal. That he was making a huge mistake. Everything here was so stupid, this fantasy world, this war and those crazy apostles. They should never come to this damn place.

War Room, Imperial High Command, Ula Pianca (Imperial Subterranean Castle )

"Pina, how is the battle in The Eye of Terror ?" Molt asked his daughter the question on everyone's mind. The Empire had invested immensely in this battle. This was the biggest gamble they had ever taken. Ten million elite troops, four divine apostles, tens of millions of tons of enchanted mithril and other mystical weapons of unparalleled strength. All to deal a fatal blow to their arch-enemies.

Looking at her father, Pina bowed respectfully before replying in an eager voice. She had a lot to report. "Your Majesty, honorable members of the security council, the Coalition Army of Light had a resounding victory. The Grand Army of Beelzebub has been annihilated, 729,000 legions aka seven billions corpses are rotting on the banks of the river Phlegethon. The coalition casualties are high, up to 7 million but it is nothing compared to the enemy. For every hero who falls, a thousand enemies are sent to the realm of void. And the coalition of light are marching towards Dis unchallenged even while we are talking. Not just that, Your Majesty. Her Holiness Rory Mercury and her fellow apostles have slayed the legendary beast of the apocalypse, Pandemonium, after 12 (6 earth) days of fierce fighting."

The initial reaction in the room was silence, and then burst with joy.

Victory. Oh sweet victory! We did it! The demons were destroyed.

"As expected from our most glorious army! No lowly demon can stand against our righteous army." One man said, immediately followed by a women voice. "Her Holiness Rory is invincible, to challenge her blade is to court death. Emroy Blessing!"

Other voices chimed in agreement. Eager and happy. Exuberant.

This was the greatest victory in the history of the Empire. It would be remembered for the next ten thousand years for there was no battle of such decisive nature, on such a grand scale. One of the Empire's greatest enemies was destroyed in a single blow. Today we feast with the gods, for we had earned that right. Million of bards would sing of this victory every night for generations. Thousands of poems would be made to praise of this great victory.

"Do you have picture and video of the battle ?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. Our talented camera crew has ensured that we have hundreds of videos with the highest visual and audio quality. If you can see on the screen." Princess Pina gestured at the main screen as she began to play the first video.

True to Princess' words, the video had very good picture and sound quality and was shot professionally like a movie, making everyone in the room watch attentively. No one took their eyes off the screen for the next 30 minutes.

"Good job, Pina! Diabo, choose the best videos and pictures and send them to the media. Make sure this is on the front page of every newspaper for the next two weeks. I want this great victory is known to everyone."

"It shall be done, Your Majesty."

Since the outbreak of the Great War, 3rd Prince Diabo El Caesar, known for his masterful skills in public speaking, was responsible for controlling the content of the press, literature, visual arts, film, theater, music and radio in the Empire. And he had done it splendidly as the chief propagandist for the Holy Darwinian Empire.

"Pina, can you contact with Her Holiness Rory? I'd like her to do a live interview on national television." The words from Her Holiness would invigorate the mass and improve their morale.

Pina paused for a moment before answering. "Your Majesty, Her Holiness Rory Mercury was...wounded in the great battle with the Beast of the Apocalypse. Her is temporary out of action and her location is currently unknown."

WHAT — !?

This news shocked almost everyone in the room, it shattered their illusion of invincibility, and if they knew why she was injured, they would be furious.

The demi-goddess of war was wounded. This was bad news, really bad news, they needed to get the story under control before this got out of hand. Hiding the news would raise suspicion but how could they spin the story in their favor?

"Diabo, I want you to go on TV and give a speech praising the courage of Her Holiness and her companions. Remember to emphasize her noble sacrifice and ask for a moment of silence to honor her. Then ask the crowd to show their devotion and patriotism by working harder to fulfill their duty."

"Of course, Father. It would be an honor."

"Okay, now on to the next subject."

"Pina, what is your assessment of the performance of the UEADF?"

"Your Majesty, with great concern, I must report to you that our enemy is indeed strong. They are supremely logical, supremely practical, utterly ruthless killers. Their machines can delivered massive and total destruction to any target they can identify. I believe that our current strategy is inadequate to bring us the final victory.

"For those reasons, I propose a modification to our national defense strategy. The new strategy isn't simply about armor, shields, or whatever, but a whole array of interconnecting principals, layered on top of each other that I collectively named the Protection Onion.

"The outer layer of the Onion is the idea of: Avoiding a dangerous encounter in the first place. You can't be shot at, if you are nowhere near anything that can shoot at you. In this case, communications equipment or sensors that tie an individual into a wider networked environment, are just as useful as additional armor.

"Possible threats to the army can be pinpointed by bird in the sky, reconnaissance ballon or magic drones, other magic item or even boots on the ground. Once identified and these threats properly communicated, our troop now knows to avoid them. But that's not always feasible, which brings us to the next layer of the Protection Onion:

"Avoiding detection. Originally, this was as simple as slapping some green paint on the armor and hoping nobody noticed them hiding in a bush. But as the ways of detecting have evolved we must develope new methods of circumventing that detection. In most cases, it will refer to masking the magic, radar, sona, infrared and the magnetic signature, but if your enemy can detect the psychic presence, or some other method, then wearing metal hats would fall into this layer of the umbrella.

"But, maybe in spite of everything, your troops have been spotted. The next layer of the Protection Onion is to: Avoid being acquired by enemy systems. This is another aspect where there's no universal solution, but unique applications that vary from palce to place might include things like decoys, smoke or other obscurants, or some sort of radar jamming device.

"Once a shot is fired though, we move into the next level layer: Avoiding being hit. There are many different counter-measures we could use, but generally they fit into soft-kill or hard-kill measures. A soft-method would alter the tracking or sensing behavior of an incoming threat causing it to veer off course. This might be flares or counter-radar chaff, or again, depending on where you find yourself, something more fantastical could be use. A hard kill measure would be some sort of direct counter-attack meant to intercept and neutralize the incoming threat. This could be some sort of lightning bolt or other magic attack, or if you had a grand mage in your team, maybe using magic shield to stop enemy fire.

"But if all of that fail, we end up in the penultimate layer of our Protection Onion: Avoiding penetration, and this, finally is where elements like armor, shields or whatever, finally comes into play. The more you can pack between yourself and enemy projectile or the better you can economize it, the better your survivability.

"The last layer to the Protection Onion is: Ensuring that even if every countermeasure fails, and you are hit and penetrated, this doesn't necessarily result in a kill. This is where high concentrate healing potion and regenerating slime come to play. We must find a way to mass produce them before the fighting resumes."

Division Wall Between 5th and 6th Circles of Terror

"Looks like they are coming." Colonel Andy Jackson looked across the river Styx at the great wall that separated the fifth and sixth circles of Terror. Gates were opening at regular intervals along its base and troops were starting to pour out.

"Time for some action I think." He dropped his hand to the Bowman radio and patched through to his battery of 120mm guns.

"Battery, target reference…"

A quick check with the laser rangefinder built into his binoculars and a frown. The dust in the Netherworld atmosphere played havoc with laser-based equipment. The range read-out was flickering and changing Jackson made a quick guess and read out a six-figure set of coordinates. A 'best guess' was better than nothing. The gunners had their pieces loaded and ready to go, it took only a few seconds for three shells to whistle overhead and explode on the far bank of the Styx. Jackson winced slightly, the shells were well short.

"Up 300, fire for effect."

The train-like roar of the shells passing overhead was immensely satisfying. This salvo landed directly in front of one of the gates, turning the Chaos demons pouring through it into a tangled mass of casualties. Very impressive Jackson thought, But that's just one gate of the eight or ten the Chaos demons are using. The rest of them are getting out and forming up unscathed. Time to do something about that.

"Support group, bring down mortar fire on the area between the wall and the river bank. Grenade machine guns, do the same, open fire as soon as Chaos demon formations are within range. Artillery, keep hitting the present target until I tell you differently. Forward observer, we need some air support, now."

"We have Jags coming in Sir. They'll be here in five minutes. Cluster bombs and cannon."

"Very good, what the hell do you want here." The last remark was addressed to Lieutenant Kim Ngan who had dropped into place beside him.

"Situation report Sir."

"You're supposed to be with the flanking forces."

"Yes Sir. But the people I've got there are perfectly capable and don't need me to look over their shoulders."

At least she knows how to delegate. Jackson thought, for a junior officer, she's got a lot of promise. She'd probably go far if she wasn't dead. "Very good then. Now situation?"

"No movement on our flanks Sir. I've got my gun armed people and those who are trained to handle guns but haven't got them yet spread out. We'll do it Russian style, the ones who haven't got guns can pick up ones the casualties don't need any more. Charles's bringing up reinforcements, he'll throw them in at the right moment." Kim Ngan grinned to herself, Charles had been very busy for the last 24 hours. She had watched him and realized exactly why he could unify the entire world.

"As long as he doesn't get them in the way." Jackson didn't like the way Charles was operating, he had no idea of what modern weaponry could do or the effects that it could have on the recipient of the firepower it generated. He could screw the whole battle up by getting his untrained personnel into the kill zones Jackson had so carefully set up.

Unknown to Jackson, Charles did know about the power of modern weaponry or at least the weapons of the Vietnam era. After all, he conquered the Gra Valkas Federation, a superpower with advanced magical technology. But this wouldn't be the last time someone underestimate the 55th Emperor. A dangerous mistake to make.

"Thank you Lieutenant, return to your flank command and hold there."

"Sir." Kim Ngan slid backwards and set off for her command. In theory, anyway, in fact, it was very important she didn't go too far.

Across the river, the Chaos demons were forming up on the banks and starting to throw things into the water, things that floated. Others were carrying planks, the makings of a floating bridge. The mortars and artillery weren't putting down enough firepower to stop them. That would change, Jackson thought. As he watched, he heard the grenade machine guns coughing and starting to pump their 40mm grenades into the teams assembling the bridges.

The Chaos demon response was almost instantaneous; from along the top of the wall opposite, a great streak of lightning flashed out, lashing at the human-held bank of the river. Jackson guessed that the Chaos demon commander had a high proportion of his force up on that wall and were firing down at his positions to suppress fire. They learn very fast, very fast indeed ran through his mind. The fire wasn't, couldn't, cause many casualties but it would pin down his men and allow the Chaos demons to build their bridges and cross the river.

"Sir. Large Chaos demon movement on our right flank. At least four of their legions are moving up to the flank positions in regular formations." Jackson grimaced as the radio spat out the message. That was it, game over. Kim Ngan's tiny force couldn't hold against an attack of that size, not even with the minefields and booby traps she had set up. Then the Bowman crackled again. "Sir, Harpies taking off from behind the wall."

Jackson cursed then looked at the wall through his binoculars. The harpies were there all right, rising from behind the wall as reported. He did a quick count, gave up and made a guess. Eight hundred or so? He knew the enemy force had taken a heavy pounding from air attack on the way down by even the force left was more than he could cope with. What else did he face?

Jackson looked off to the right and saw the four great black squares of the Chaos demon legions advancing in column. They had harpies as well, a great cloud of them. Half a legion, 5,000 or more? This situation wasn't just critical, it was a catastrophe in the making. Jackson had a nasty feeling that 2 PARA was about to join the Gloucesters as a part of the British Army's list of gallant last stands. Then his grim thoughts were interrupted by Kim Ngan rejoining him.

"Lieutenant, what the hell are you doing here I ordered you to…"

"Sorry Sir, but I have to be here. Your Bowmans don't talk to our SINCGARS and we need both communications nets working. Anyway, I'm here in my capacity as Charles's First Tribune, not as a Vietnam Army Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant, or whatever you want to call yourself, you are going to regret this."

"Probably Colonel. But please take a look to your right."

Jackson followed the suggestion. The great black blocks of the Chaos demon legions had advanced right up to the point where the human defenses started and then stopped. Then, as he watched, they changed subtly although he couldn't work out why or how. The harpies overhead had also changed, they were splitting into two groups. Then, the ripple of lightning flashes erupted from the Chaos demon legions, not from the front as he had expected, but from the sides, directed over the river. The salvo tore into the Chaos demons tryingto build the bridges, scattering them.

As Jackson watched in disbelief, the harpy cloud crossed the river, the smaller group tackling the harpies rising from behind the wall, the larger group descending on the crenellations that topped that wall. Abruptly the barrage of lightning fire from the wall stopped as the Chaos demons up there stopped to fight off the harpies that were attacking them.

"Charles's brought up his reinforcements Colonel. Four legions of foot soldiers and a half-legion of harpies. The whole of the Chaos demon army that was on our right flank. Under the command of Plomniferasticas. He used to be one of Asmodeus's lieutenants but when Asmodeus was killed he was left in command of the force Asmodeus had brought down. He didn't have a liege-lord any more and wasn't given one. So Charles persuaded him to change sides. The Chaos demons on our left flank are also under the command of Plomniferasticas and they've changed sides as well. Plomniferasticas has sworn allegiance to Charles, and to me by the way as Charles's tribune. The left flank force is the anvil, the right flank under Charles is the hammer. Hold one."

The radio in Kim Ngan's hand was crackling. Kim Ngan lifted it to her ear and spoke quietly.

While she did so, Jackson took another look through his binoculars. Overhead was a swirling mass of harpies, studded with fire as the two flocks fought. The wall over the river looked like it was crowned with fire, lightning bolts sparkling as the garrison tried to fight off the harpies. Far off to the left, he saw the shapes of four RAF J-86s hurtling through the overcast, bearing down on the Chaos demon force between the wall and the river.

"Forward air control, tell those J-86s, on no account to hit anything our side of the river, no matter what it looks like." Jackson looked back at the Chaos demon force on his right, still pumping lightning bolts into the enemy ahead of them.

Then the carnage caused by their fire was blanketed out by the greater slaughter of the cluster bombs exploding over the Chaos demon force gathered between the wall and the river. As the jets howled away, the legion at the far end of the Chaos demon line started to move forward, crossing the river.

"Charles loves radios Sir." Kim Ngan had finished taking her orders from Charles. "He's crossing the Styx now, his force will swing through 90 degrees, then advance with the wall on one flank and the river on the other, rolling up the enemy line. He wants 2 PARA to concentrate its fire, especially the artillery, on the Chaos demons ahead of him so they don't get a chance to form up. Chaos demon warfare depends on rigid formations, so if they can't form up, they'll be destroyed."

Jackson nodded and gave the necessary orders over the radio. The artillery and mortar fire shifted, concentrating on the Chaos demons who had survived the cluster bombs.

By the time he had his orders issued, Charles had his legions across the river and had executed his change of front. Jackson watched fascinated, knowing he was the first living human to watch demons fighting demons. The front rank of Charles's legions fired their tridents at the disorganized mass in front of them, then dropped to one knee to recharge. The next rank passed through them, fired, and dropped as well, followed by the third and fourth ranks. The effect was a constant ripple of fire that ground into the Chaos demon ranks. The fire from 2 PARA completed the job and in front of him, Jackson saw the force that had threatened Free Hell dissolving into chaos.

"How did he do it Lieutenant?"

"He took my Laptop Sir. And disks we got last night of the fighting along the Phlegethon. He just told Plomniferasticas that he could be with us, then showed him film of the magic attack on the harpies and the Russian tanks smashing Beelzebub's right wing. Or he could be against us and then he showed him the film of the battlefield, carpeted with layers of dead Chaos demons, mile after mile of them. Chaos demons aren't fools Sir, Plomniferasticas knew he couldn't win against us so he changed sides."

"But we couldn't have stopped him. Not with them as well."

"I know that Sir, you know that, Charles knew that. Plomniferasticas didn't know that. To him we are the Lords of War, unbeatable. We even blew up Abaddon's palace, we didn't get Abaddon himself by the way. Plomniferasticas isn't afraid of Abaddon any more sir, but he's mortally afraid of us. Oh, by the way, the army in front of us is commanded by one Xisorixus. Another Lieutenant of Asmodeus left adrift when the Grand Duke was killed. His army was basically Asmodeus's portion of the sixth ring garrison plus odds and ends he scraped up. Not real legions at all. Plomniferasticas has real legions. Take a look."

Jackson did as he was told. Across the river, Xisorixus's army was collapsing, Large portions were throwing down their arms, the rest were being driven into small groups and cut down. At the forefront of the advancing legions was a single figure in polished bronze armor. Jackson didn't need to be told that was Charles. He was directing the troops, sending groups forward, navigating the advance so that it would do the maximum damage possible.

Kim Ngan's radio crackled again. She listened and then smiled. "Cease fire Sir. Xisorixus has just been taken prisoner. Its all over. He's quite a man isn't he?"

Jackson looked sharply at Kim Ngan. She was smiling gently and there had been a lot more than just professional respect in her voice.

Four Leagues West of Belial's Stronghold, Tartaruan Range, Northern Region of Netherworld

Memnon settled back and closed his eyes. He was almost gray with exhaustion but he'd made it up and found a good place to hide. One concealed from Belial's stronghold yet with good observation points near to it. Now, all he had to do was to make contact.

Hello, humans. Anybody can answer? This is Memnon speaking.

Memnon? Where are you? Is anything wrong.

Memnon stirred with pleasure, it was the female with the rich mind-voice that sounded like water running over stones. The one who had praised his earlier efforts. "Nothing wrong, I just wished to report that I have reached Belial's stronghold. I am four leagues west of it now and ready to receive the humans.

There was a startled silence at the other end. Wow. You must have moved very fast. Well done Memnon. You wait until I tell the Generals this, they'll want to give you a medal or something. How are your wings?

Memnon was happy, at hearing praise again, and at the fact one of his masters cared about his health. They ache but they will be better with rest. I had to get here fast so I could arrive when the light dimmed. Nobody will have seen me come."

That's great. I'll get word that you're in place out, we'll open a portal to you soon.

Memnon relaxed back on his rock and got ready to doze. His wings hurt and he was hungry but he didn't care.

Recreational Hall, Camp Hell-Alpha, The Eye of Terror

"McElroy? McElroy?"

"Here, Sir." The Special Forces Lieutenant looked a bit harassed; he'd been told to find the dead sergeant quickly and it had taken longer than he had expected. And in any case, he felt awkward speaking to somebody who was dead. It was something a lot of people were going to find took a lot of getting used to.

"Get your team together. Quickly, the mission is a go. Get your kit as well, we'll be gating you to Earth and then to your operational location. Be at the portal hut in twenty minutes."

"Very good Sir." McElroy saluted, mentally debating whether he could get away with saluting with the wrong hand and explaining it as being one of the curious effects of being dead. Not worth trying, he decided. Not now at any rate. The Lieutenant, now definitely relieved, vanished in the direction of the command hut.

"Cassidy, DeVanzo and Walsch. Get the rest of the team together, we're ruling out. Mikkelson, get a work detail, draw our gear and get it over to the portal hut. Let's roll guys, we're on our way."

McElroy, turned and headed for the door, almost bumping into a figure as he went. He stopped for a second, hardly recognizing the man in the red-mottled BDUs. "Hey, Aeneas, how goes things?"

"Not fit work for a man. Teaching scholars about what really went on in Sparta and Thermopylae. One of them insulted Queen Gorgo and when I disciplined him, there was much trouble over that."

McElroy was fascinated. "Disciplined him? How?"

"He wrote lies about our Queen. So I broke every bone in his writing hand. I thought it was only just but the others were most displeased with me. I wish I was going with you and the rest of the gang."

"I wish you and Ori were coming too but the brass says otherwise. This is a modern-soldier job. Where is Ori by the way?"

"Teaching some Japanese about the way of life in his era." Aeneas shook his head. " The ideas you people have are so strange, when they speak of us it is like we see ourselves in a mirror coated with mist. The form is there, but the details… Anyway, take care my friend. I will tell Ori that you remembered him. And kill Chaos demons."

McElroy left and ran over to his quarters, picking up the bankroll he had won at poker over the last few days. One thing that didn't change was the laws of chance and the fact that people couldn't understand the mathematics of odds. He had a nice roll of bills for his family, enough to keep them going anyway.

By the time he got to the portal hut, his team was assembled, eight modern soldiers, all dead, none more than twenty years ago. All loaded down with the electronics gear for the mission.

"Ready to go everybody? You know the drill, spot Belial's fortress, then set up the navigation beacon and wait for the B-700s. No fighting, no hunting, no shooting except if we get discovered."

There was a series of nod, then a pasty faced, sulky-looking man settled back on the portal generation couch. There was a quick hum and the familiar black ellipse opened up.

"That's quick." McElroy was impressed.

"Our gear's a lot better than the early versions, and its easy to push a portal through from this side. You wait, tomorrow we're opening up a portal big enough to bring a carrier through." The technical sergeant grinned. "I've even heard that Enterprise is being fitted to generate her own portals. Through you go Top."

McElroy stepped through the ellipse and found himself in the hangar. Once again, a few families were there to greet the relatives they'd never thought they would see again. McElroy found his brother and slipped him the roll of cash. A few hugs and back-slaps later, he was on his way back. A blue Draconian woman in what looked like a rosy sari was taking to the technical operators.

"Excuse me, you must be Indira Singh. I'm Tucker McElroy. I'm sorry to trouble you, but do you know how Tyuwaru is?"

"It is no trouble Tucker. Tyuwaru is doing well, she had her last decontamination ritual three days ago and is recovering properly in the best hospital money can buy. She has many visitors, she is something of a hero for the way she held the portals open by herself while other sensitives were being located. She is much honored."

"Decontamination ritual?" McElroy was aghast. "What was the matter with her?"

"She looked into the abyss for too long... The Immaterium is a bizarre and terrifying place to mortal beings, it exists without the established laws of time and space. It is a highly unstable realm subjected to endless disturbances not to mention the horrifying and immensely dangerous creatures. Opening a Portal to a place connected directly to the Immaterium is like staring into the madness itself. It slowly poison her mind. Because of her efforts, the Holy Order picked up the charge to make sure she had the very best." Singh looked at the shock on McElroys's face.

He then reached into a pocket and took out a long letter he had written to Tyuwaru, expressing his gratitude for all she had gone through on his behalf. "Indira, could you see Tyuwaru gets this please. And send her our love, that's from all of us. Tell her we'll never forget what she did for us and we hope we'll see her again but if we don't, we hope she will always be happy."

His team assembled, McElroy looked around. Singh was already on the portal opening couch, searching for Memnon's mind. She found it and locked on. Then she started to shudder as the electronic equipment opened up the portal. McElroy stepped through and found himself back in 'Hell', but in a vastly different hell from his previous experience. The mountains were stark, mostly volcanic, but the valleys between them were covered with vegetation, green and purple. It was warm and relatively pleasant, even the choking dust of netherworld was less pronounced here. In front of him, the hulking black shape of Memnon was looking at him curiously.

"Sergeant (deceased) Tucker McElroy. We'll take over the surveillance from here. You are Memnon aren't you?"

"I am." Memnon was amused by the way the question had come last. Humans were so confident their machines would work. "I must brief you on this area and where are the things you seek. Then I must fly back to Dysprosium."

"Why don't you portal back? We can open a gate easily enough. Just rest up until the next scheduled contact and then we'll gate you back. No need to work harder than you have to."

Memnon thought it over. He'd assumed he would have to fly back but the human was right. There was no need to, not now. The humans had a staging point near Belial's fortress, why should he have to fly?

The Collegium of Fornessa, City of Dis, The Eye of Terror

"You have heard the fate of Beelzebub?" Deumos sat elegantly in the luxurious seat she had brought with her.

"That he had been defeated, yes."

"Not defeated. Killed. In an attack by human aircraft. They shot him with their cannon and blew him up with their missiles. He died like an orc, sniveling and weak."

Dagon looked around at the decaying building that housed the meeting. He needed time to think over the news that Beelzebub had followed Asmodeus into the void. Followed him and all the others. The ranks of the Netherworld aristocracy had been thinned in a way none could remember. Not even the Great Demonic War had caused carnage like this. So he decided to stall for that time. "Why do we have to meet here? In this disgusting place overrun with orcs?"

Deumos recognized the stall for what it was and knew she had shocked the Great Duke. Time to answer a question with a question.

"And where is Abaddon?"

"He moves from place to place, hiding from the humans and their aircraft. Never stays in the same place long for fear of them finding him and sending their bombers after him."

"Abaddon fears the mortals. Yet he asks us to fight them while he runs and hides."

"Lady, those words are treasonous."

"Does that make them untrue? How many billions have died already? If you do not know, I will tell you. More than seven and a quarter billion. Of Beelzebub's army, 729,000 legions, only 3.9 million survive of the more than 7.3 billions who set out. The rest are rotting on the banks of the Phlegethon River. They even killed the legendary Pandemonium and while even we sit here speaking the mortals advance on Dis."

Deumos's words were interrupted by the howl of jet fighters overhead. Both Great Dukes paused and looked up. The jet noise receded and was followed by the dull sound of explosions, a long way off. Somebody had just been bombed. The noise did not cause any great surprise, the sounds of human aircraft and their deadly cargoes were familiar. Familiar but still terrifying.

"And their aircraft fly over Dis without opposition." Deumos smiled briefly. "And what are your plans Dagon."

"I have been ordered to fight. To attack the mortals armies. Those orders still stand." Dagon was uncomfortable, he had chosen to sit far away from Deumos, by an open window so the air gods would protect him from the strange magic that the Succubae used to bend others to their will.

"You will fight." There was a note of derision in Deumos's voice. "To what end? How will your army achieve that which eluded Beelzebub?"

"I do not know."

"I do. You will fight, you will lose, your army will be destroyed, you will be killed. End. Have you learned nothing? The mortals are the Lords of War, they cannot be defeated. They squash our armies with casual ease and they still hold back the most powerful and deadly of their weapons. For every move we make, they have a counter, already sitting in their arsenal, ready to be used."

"But Horus ?"

"You think Horus will aid us? He will sit and watch us and the mortals fight until one is gone, then he will attack the survivor. That is what humans think, it is what I and my Succubae think, and we can be very sure it is what Horus thinks. And the end of this world is coming fast Dagon. It is days away, perhaps weeks at most. Have you heard the news from the pit?"

Dagon shook his head.

"An entire army, ten legions that were once part of the host of Asmodeus have rebelled. They have declared their fealty to the mortals and attacked those who would make war on the mortal. In the pit, human and demon now fight side by side, as allies. A great area of the pit, a segment of the Fifth Ring and a smaller section of the Sixth are now in the mortal hands and those still faithful to Abaddon die if they go there. That area spreads hourly as the mortals rescue their dead and many of them join the mortals army. Free Hell they call it."

The demons rebelling and joining the mortals. It seemed incomprehensible. Not just joining the humans but doing so as the junior partners in the alliance. Dagon shook his head, Deumos was right, Netherworld was dying. His mind ran over the options available to his army. They were few indeed and all of them led to death.

"The mortal hold Abaddon responsible for what has happened here. The legions in the pit have the right answer and we must follow their example. We must make peace with the mortals, we must pay whatever price they ask for that peace. And, the first thing they ask will be Abaddon's head. Detached from the rest of his body and very, very dead. You have said how Abaddon moves around too much for the humans to catch him. So we must do the deed. Kill him and set up a new rulership in Netherworld, one that can make peace with the mortal."

"With you as ruler." Dagon's voice was openly scornful. The Succubae were despised, the idea of one ruling the Netherworld was unthinkable. Most demons would die rather than allow it.

"Of course not. I am not stupid Dagon, I know what will be accepted and what will not. I cannot be ruler in Netherworld. But you Dagon, you can be. You are one of the very few surviving Great Dukes, you have your army to keep order. You have not fought the mortal yet, they do not know much about you. We can turn that to our advantage. For we must make you acceptable to the mortals, a leader they can accept."

Ruler of Netherworld, successor to Abaddon Ezekyle. Dagon rolled the idea around in his mind. It beat inevitable death on the battlefield. "And how shall we do that, Lady?"

"The mortals have been driven by the way we treat their dead. So we try to show you did what you could to help them We will set up an underground movement, we will call it." Deumos ran the information Daelmara had sent her, searching for a suitable name.

"Demons for the Ethical Treatment of the Mortals. We will forge documents, information, to show the mortal we were trying to stop the torment of Abaddon, have been doing so for many years. The mortal will see these and accept us. And make you the new ruler of Netherworld. All that we need is for Abaddon to die."

Dagon nodded. "It is agreed Lady. Now, how do we make this fine-sounding plan reality?"

Belial's Stronghold, Tartaruan Range, Northern Region of Netherworld

Euryale smoothed lotion on her burns and relaxed on her couch. Quietly, she closed her eyes and sent her mind searching for Lakheenahuknaasi. She found the mind she sought and opened contact, feeling the mind-voice in her head, sensed the respect tempered with ambition.

"What have you learned Lakheenahuknaasi?"

"Much, Highness. I have learned about human weapons, seen what they have. Highness, we have not seen half of what they can do." The near-panic in Lakheenahuknaasi's mind-voice was evident. "The deadliest weapons they have are still unknown to us."

"But you have learned how to make them?"

"Highness, I have learned we cannot make them. The instructions in the magic tome are here but they are full of things we do not understand. And when we look up the things we do not understand, those descriptions also are filled with things we do not comprehend. Everywhere we look, we are faced with the impossible. All I have studied has shown us how little we know, and what we do not know will kill us. Above all, Highness, know this. Unlike the Falmartian, the earth humans have no magic."

"Impossible. We have seen what their magery does."

"No Highness, we have seen what their machines can do. The humans have no magic so they build machines to do magical things for them. They are working with those cursed Holy Order. The human make the weapon and the Holy Order blessed them. And those blessed machines are what destroys us."

"Very good Lakheenahuknaasi. Anything else?"

"Yes, Highness. Our Lord was wrong when he said there were a few great places that build the human machines. There are not. The places that make human machines are everywhere and now they all build weapons. What we face is not a stockpile that has been built up over thousands of human years but what they produce today. We cannot destroy them by striking at their production, we must strike their leadership."

"And do you know where that is?"

"Yes. In a city called London. A place called Pah-Lee-Amant."

Dragon Hunter XMH-3558, Over Southern Lemuria.

XMH-3558 was flying her first operational sortie since commissioned to RAF service, a survey flight of Netherworld. With her long endurance she could stay on station for a long time and increase humanity's knowledge of the geography of Netherworld. Wing Commander Winters was quietly proud of what the British had achieved in creating a multi-role aircraft with a seriously destructive capability.

While the other three Dragon Hunters, XLM4426, XLM3584 and XLM6603 were being loaded up with 5,000lb bombs in preparation for bombing missions in support on British troops in Netherworld, XMH-3558 had received a different fit.

In the forward part of the bomb bay was a reconnaissance crate containing a number of different radar, IR and visual sensors which would record the ground conditions below the bomber. They would record to digital storage in the aircraft, but could also download to ground stations. As well as the ultra-modern sensors in the bomb bay, the Dragon Hunter would be using its AN/APQ-181 multi-mode radar and a high-resolution infrared video camera someone had installed in the visual bomb aiming blister. Two air sampling pods were also being carried under the wings.

Unlike the Americans the RAF had not bothered to alter the tactical camouflage schemes of its aircraft, as yet. They did not have the manpower to spare at the moment, and to be honest were not really convinced that it was necessary for such primitive enemy, so the Dragon Hunters were still resplendent in their green and grey wrap-around tactical schemes.

In the aft portion of the bomb bay was an additional fuel tank to reduce the aircraft's dependence on air-to-air refueling, something that had not yet been practiced in Netherworld, at least not by the RAF. That was about to change. The Spams were counting on aerial refueling to get their bombers all the way up to Belial's stronghold and they needed a test of the system to see whether it worked.

XMH-3558 had got that job as well. Plus one or two more. The Dragon Hunter currently had its AN/APQ-181 radar radiating as it closed with a tanker aircraft to top up its tanks before entering the Hellgate. The first of three planned refuellings, two of which would take place in hell itself.

"You should see her soon, Skipper." The Radar Navigator, Squadron Leader James Bolam reported.

Wing Commander Winters strained his eyes to see their tanker, reflecting on the fact that his eyesight was not quite as good as it had once been. There, he spotted an object ahead of them trailing a vapor trail.

"I've got her, Jimmy, shut down the radar so that we don't microwave the crew." Winter said.

"Right, David, let's see if we can put all that refueling practice to practical use."

"X-Ray Hotel Five, Five Eight, this is Spartan One, is that you lighting up my ECM display, over?" A voice in Winters' and Maxwell's ears said rather unexpectedly.

"Yes it's me, Spartan One, good to hear your voice, Stu; I'd heard that you were back flying tankers." Winters replied. "Are you ready to give me some fuel, over?"

"Yup, we have the centre hose trailing, now be gentle with me." The tanker pilot replied, using a feminine voice to finish the sentence.

While Winters carefully lined up the Dragon Hunter behind the KC-185 tanker, Maxwell maintained careful control of the throttles.

The refueling probe made contact with the basket first time and the transfer began, though as usual aviation fuel leaked over the bomber's canopy, partially obscuring the view. This was a problem which had first arisen during the quick strike missions of the First Air War. The UEAADF engineers had never quite found out yet why.

"Ooh, you are a big boy." A sultry female voice said over the radio. Winters looked at Maxwell somewhat surprised. Below him he could hear the rest of the crew roaring with laughter.

"Ah, do you have a split, sorry female crew member, Stu?" He asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know, lover." The same voice said.

"Err…can we land somewhere soon, Boss." The Tactical navigator said, chocking back laughter. "I think I need to visit the bog."

"I'm not landing so you can knock one out, Flight Lieutenant Pervert." Winter replied laughing.

Once the tanks were filled up again Winters dropped back and took station off the KC-185's port wing.

"Thanks for the top up, Stu. I think we're going to need it, over."

"You're welcome, Martin. Good luck, I would say 'see you in Hell', but I think that would be inappropriate, over."

"See you when we come back out."

Twenty minutes later, systems checks complete, Winters and Maxwell stared at the dark ellipse of the Hellgate. They had seen it on footage from UAVs and combat aircraft and had it described by fellow RAF aircrew, but nothing really prepared them for the sight if the thing itself. Maxwell throttled back and engaged the filters that would protect the engines from the various kinds of filth found at low level in Netherworld.

"Oh well, here goes nothing." Winters said as the Hellgate began to fill his forward vision. "Hold onto your hats, lads."

The change from the skies of Falmart to Netherworld was sudden and rather unexpected, catching both Winters and Maxwell by surprise. There was no transition, one moment the Dragon Hunter was in the clear blue skies of Lemuria, the next in the red, cloudy murk of Netherworld.

The Dragon Hunter was already starting to climb when they saw another aircraft making its landing run on the airfield at Hell-Alpha. One of the B-36s the Spams had reintroduced back into service for second-line work. Rumor had it that their cargo consisted of' special weapons' and having seen the level of security Winter had no doubt that for once the rumors were true.

It was logical of course, he did know that someone in the MoD had realized that it would be somewhat difficult to use the navy's Trident missiles against Netherworld, so some of the Trident warheads had been remanufactured into free-fall bombs.

Hellgate Air Traffic Control Center, Camp Hell-Alpha, The Eye of Terror

Sergeant Stephanie 'Stevie' Moss liked being an Air Traffic Controller. It gave her a real feeling of power over the officers that flew the RAF's aircraft. To help manage the flow of aircraft around the Hellgate Number 1 Air Control Centre had deployed a Type 101 radar and a Tactical Air Control Centre. Some of the ATC staff were less than pleased to be deployed to 'Hell', but Moss did not mind, it would be the first chance for her to earn a campaign medal, and besides they did have the entirety of 1 Squadron, RAF Regiment defending the radar site, so she was not particularly worried.

She watched as the blip she had been expecting appeared out of the Hellgate.

"X-Ray Five, Five, Eight, this is GCI. Welcome to Hell, gentlemen. You are clear to climb to operational altitude, over. Keep alert at all times, the air here is crowded and poor visibility means you will have very little warning of any aircraft out of their approved flight path." There was a note of asperity in Moss's voice, most pilots were doing their best in the unfamiliar conditions but there were some who just did what they wanted and left everybody else to sort out the problems.

Dragon Hunter XMH-3558, Over The Eye of Terror

It was reassuring to hear a familiar accent from ground control.

"Thank you, GCI, climbing to cruising altitude, over."

As expected at 38,000 feet the Dragon Hunter broke through the clag and Squadron Leader Maxwell pulled back on the lever that opened the filters. The power from the engines surged and the bomber immediately began to climb more rapidly, up to its operational ceiling of 65,000 feet.

"Okay, open the bomb bay doors. Time to start our Cranberry impression."

Underneath, the mapping radars scanned through the murk and started to make their record of the terrain that lay under the reddish fog that masked Netherworld. The minutes ticked past and turned into hours as the maps were generated, watching his displays Winters wondered how long it would be before there was a Google-Hell to partner Google-Earth.

While the radar system mapped the ground hidden in the murk below, the optical equipment started measuring the density of the dust suspended in the atmosphere, trying to gauge the size of the plume that extended from the giant caldera that formed the Terror-pit.

Above them, the sky was a red glare, no sign of anything to break the uniform light. Or to indicate what the light was for that matter, a problem that was believed to have given several physicists nervous breakdowns.

"Any sign of anything interesting down there?" Winters nodded towards the AN/APQ-181 display. As primarily a bombing radar, it was good at picking up the rectangles of habitations. Human ones anyway, yet another reason for this flight. Nobody really know how the Chaos demons actually lived. Did they have houses? Or live in caves? Nobody really knew.

Maxwell shook his head. "Nothing. This place seems almost unoccupied apart from the concentration around Dis." He looked down to the flight instrumentation. "Time for a tank-up Boss."

"Gotcha. Dropping down to 40,000 feet. That'll be above the clag but the tanker should be able to manage it. Who have we got?"

Maxwell looked at the roster. "Lion-Oh-Three. Singapore Air Force KC-185. I've got his beacon up."

"Fair enough, I'll give him a bell."

The refueling went efficiently enough, without the backchat that distinguished the RAF-only refueling hook ups. Winters got the impression that the Singapore Air Force crew were going out of their way to seem professional and efficient on this, Netherworld's first aerial refueling. Other than the inevitable fuel leak, the hook-up went fine and the tanker peeled away to return to its base back on Lemuria.

"Humorless lot aren't they." Winters was relaxing as XMH-3558 climbed back to her operational altitude. "Still, coming from a country where one has to get a police permit before chewing gum…"

"Is that true? I thought it was an urban legend." Maxwell stopped suddenly. "Whoa, now that's one thing we wanted to see. The beacon is up."

Sure enough, the navigation display showed a bright light far to the north of them. The beacon set up by a Special Undead Forces team to steer the heavy bombers to their target. Winters didn't hesitate.

"Control, this is XMH-3558. We have the Belial Beacon on our display. We read location as…" He hesitated and read the numbers off the display.

"Have you got that? Then tell the spams their Bones are in business."

Market Place. City of Dis, The Eye of Terror

Yellithanakstra went around the stalls in the market, looking for food for herself and her mate. And their kidling of course. Sometimes she had to remember that there were more than just the two of them now. There were some small food-beasts around but the choice had dropped dramatically. Word was spreading across Dis despite the efforts of the surviving Dukes to stop it, Beelzebub's army had been smashed, destroyed. The mortals had slaughtered his forces just as efficiently as they had destroyed those of Abigor. Now they were spreading out, surrounding the city, slowly cutting it off from its sources of supply. As they did so, their aircraft were pounding targets across the city.

Even as she thought of the humans and their machines, a wailing noise erupted from the roofs and walls of the city. The watchers had seen more human aircraft coming in and were blowing their horns to warn the demons in the city to take cover. Yellithanakstra looked around, some of the demons here were already scrambling for cover, trying to hide under abutments and arches from the bombs that would still be raining down. The older hands, like Yellithanakstra didn't bother.

The human aircraft, she rolled the new word around on her tongue, might be fast but they were incredibly accurate. Their bombs, another new word to savor, always hit the targets they were aimed at. Mostly the palaces of the powerful dukes, the barracks where their legions lived, the fields where they trained. They never scattered their bombs at random across the city. Yellithanakstra wondered at that, if they did, just bombed at random, they could create panic and chaos in Dis.

She looked at the aircraft approaching fast. Big aircraft with the strange wings that could flap forwards and backwards. Their camouflage made them hard to see against the red-gray sky but she caught a brief glimpse of the red stars on the wings and tails of the four aircraft. Then they were overhead, their howl making her head shake, and she saw them bank before releasing a rain of bombs. Underneath them, the palace of Naberius disintegrated into a cloud of dust shrouding a pile of collapsing stone. The humans weren't perfect, she thought, Naberius had been killed when Abaddon's own palace had been bombed. Or perhaps they had decided to destroy the palace anyway in case somebody had taken Naberius's place.

Yellithanakstra sighed and started to return to her home. Her mate would be off duty soon, returning from the walls where he and his legion were waiting for the human assault they knew had to come. Demon armies fighting mortals in the open had been destroyed. Would they have any better luck fighting from behind stone walls? She was so absorbed with her worries and the sight of the human bombers flying effortlessly overhead that she never saw the wooden pole being pushed out from behind a cart. It was beautifully timed, going between her legs and catching her feet, sending her sprawling to the ground.

For a second she lay there, on the cobblestones, stunned by her fall. When she had collected her wits, she started to get up again but a violent blow to the back of her head sent her back to the ground. Half-stunned, she looked around and saw greenish, scaly legs surrounding her. Bewildered, she looked more and realized she was surrounded by a group of orcs, almost a dozen of them, all carrying heavy clubs.

They were jabbering at each other, rattling away in a language she couldn't understand. Orcs never spoke in the presence of a demon, to do so was to invite death and so few demons understood orcish. Whatever the argument was about, one of the orcs solved it by taking his club and swinging down, hitting Yellithanakstra on the back.

She screamed in rage and tried to summon up magic to drive them away but the rest had been encouraged by the success of the attack and they joined in, swinging their clubs down on her with all the force they could manage. Yellithanakstra felt the bones in her body breaking with the impacts, felt the ones to her head driving away her ability to concentrate for the generation of magic or even to think. She tried to crawl away but the orcs followed her, still battering her with their clubs. Eventually, she collapsed, her body shaking as the street faded away from her sight.

The orcs looked down on the body of their victim, a few still taking a few last swings although the demon was obviously dead. Then, they heard other demons running towards them and they scattered, running through the narrow alleyways and into the drains. Soon, they would gather and try and set up another ambush for an unwary demon.

Latte Sahra Airfield, Lemuria

"What a show, what a fight, we really hit our target for tonight, though with one engine gone we will still carry on coming in on a wing but with flair.

The chorus of the old song reverberated around the beams of the mess. Latte Sahra had been one of the Empire biggest base in Lemuria, now it was the home of the B-700s of the 128th Bomb Squadron, Georgia Air National Guard.

Major Curtis Trafford gave out a cheer as the song ended and he finished off his drink. Coca Cola as it happened since he was on alert, waiting for the word to come that the beacon was up and the strike waiting in the dispersal areas could head off for Beelzebub's fortress. Six B-700s, two of them were carrying the massive EBU-5(1) Mod. 1 bombs intended to close off the any opening portal.

The other four ware loaded down with conventional bombs, some unitary penetrators designed to knock down fortifications, others anti-personnel bomblets to slaughter any Chaos demons caught in the open.

"Attention, your attention please." General Graydon was standing on a chair at the end of the room. A dangerous thing to do in a mess full of rowdy pilots. "We have just heard from the Brits, a Dragon Hunter they have up has picked up the beacon from Tartarus. The raid is on. All assigned crews, report to your aircraft. The tankers are already taking off. You have already had your briefings, be ready to follow them. Thank you." Graydon stood down and left the room.

Across the mess, the 24 crewmen assigned to the strike quietly got up and left, collecting back-slaps and salutes as they went. Trafford followed them, out to where Dragon Slayer was waiting. The mission was a complex one, already tankers would be converging on the strike route, some to refuel the B-700s, others to refuel the tankers.

It took 14 tankers to get each of the B-700s to their target and back and more than a few of those tankers would be flying two missions. It was a 44,000 mile flight in total, making this the longest-range bombing mission that had ever been attempted. It was one for the history books, and it was one to avenge Detroit.

Trafford started to climb in to his aircraft then stopped half way in, reaching out to pat the airframe. "Well, honey-bunny, we're on our way at last."

Belial's Palace, Tartarus, The Eye of Terror

Euryale had been in the wyvern caves when the lookouts spotted the Belial's meager formation, and by the time she'd glided down to the courtyard he'd already gone inside. The gorgon caught up with the count in the throne room, where he was already issuing orders.

"…full mobilization immediately, you will lead them down into to Asphodel Plains tomorrow. Abaddon has granted me the whole province, but there may be some foolhardy barons who… Euryale!"

As she made eye contact with her lord, she saw something she'd never seen before. Euryale had seen Belial frightened before, many times when he had pushed one of the dukes too far and Tartarus had come close to being invaded, but there was none of the bluster this time. His gaze was flat and hard, weary yet manically determined. She couldn't put her talon on what this meant and that worried her, though he did seem genuinely pleased to see her.

"I'll need you too, await me in my study." Belial jerked his head in the appropriate direction and then turned back to his officers.

Euryale arrived to find Baron Trajakrithoth already there. The huge brown demon was wearing his greasy bronze armour as usual– Euryale couldn't remember ever seeing him without it – and cradling the 'gun' he'd spent so much time working on. From what she'd overhead in the throne room it seemed that Belial would want to talk about occupying territory, so she made herself useful by retrieving the largest map of Netherworld from its bronze storage tube and spreading it on the table. The ornate map was covered in tiny images of monstrous creatures and blocky keeps.

The Count arrived at last, accompanied by Castellean Zatheoplekkar, the most trusted of his officers. He was the only one of Belial's original legions commanders to stay with his lord through disgrace, exile and all the millenia of obscurity and ridicule since. Perhaps now that loyalty would pay off, if the Count had really been awarded the former holdings of Asmodeus. At a gesture from his lord, Zatheoplekkar slammed and barred the heavy doors. Belial sat down in his throne and stared off into space for a moment, before fixing each of them with his gaze.

"Our lord Abaddon has decreed that knowing what I am about to tell you is grounds for immediate execution. I will not hesitate to enforce this order if I discover that you have revealed the situation to any others without my express permission." Belial paused for a second to allow this to sink in.

"Three days ago, the humans used their 'aircraft' to smash the tip of Lucifer's Finger. Abaddon's place was completely destroyed, rendered into rubble along with everything nearby. I commanded near a hundred orcs to dig through the ruins for half a day, but we found no survivors. Our lord survived only because he was away, sightseeing over the pit on that monstrosity Euryale made for him."

"You understand what this means? The mortal can destroy any strongpoint, anywhere. Their sky chariots fly too fast, too high to be stopped. With what we've done, and with that traitor Abigor…" Belial's tone dripped with contempt for the turncoat general "…must be telling them, it's only amatter of time before they come here."

The room fell silent. The destruction of Abaddon's palace was nearly unthinkable, no one knew how to respond to it. Yet Belial still had more bad news to deliver.

"As I returned from Dis I overflew Beezelbub's army, or rather the tattered remnants of it. The mortal had destroyed it almost completely. Our wyvern riders – the few who survived – speak of void fog that strikes down all who enter and rolling thunder that obliterates everything in its path. In short the mortal used their magery to destroy our grand army, while suffering minimal casualties in return."

Belial looked upon the faces of his servants and saw shock, horror and poorly concealed disbelief. "There can be no denying this. We thought we were going to Falmart to exterminate the mortal, but in truth exactly the opposite is happening. They have come here to destroy us utterly, to slaughter every demon in Netherworld, 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 Abaddon'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 mortals 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 mortal 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 attacks on the mortal cities?"

"Of course. Abaddon commands it. More importantly, it would be pointless to stop now. The mortals 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 Eye of Terror

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."

B-700 "Dragon Slayer" 128th Bomb Squadron, Georgia Air National Guard, Approaching Dis

Major Curtis Trafford shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing that it was going to get a lot worse. He had been airborne for ten hours, Dragon Slayer pounding north, over the sea of murk that represented the dust clouds covering Netherworld. They had traveled more that 12 thousand miles since take-off and he was already aware that he was now deeper into the Eye of Terror than any living human had ever gone.

He also knew that his status in that respect was increasing every minute as the B-700s continued their marathon flight and that meant the aircraft's fuel tanks were steadily being depleted. They were burning fuel at an alarming rate due to the dusty atmosphere in this hellist realm. Coming up was their first refueling point, the tankers were already closing in on the agreed rendezvous point and their beacons showed clearly on the navigational displays.

The aerial refueling arrangements were a thing of beauty. The tankers themselves had already refueled once on the way to the rendezvous and would have to refuel again on the way back. The arrangements for the next refueling of the B-700s, after they had completed their strike were even more complex, the tankers would have to refuel twice before making the rendezvous with each of their tankers themselves having to be refueled in mid-air on their way.

Overall, more than 100 tankers were assigned to this mission and that didn't change the fact that it only needed one of the B-700s to develop problems with its air-to-air refueling system and that aircraft would be inevitably lost. The only air base that could take them was 12,000 miles behind them and there were no alternatives or emergency landing fields.

On the other hand, this mission was the only way humans could strike at the source of the attacks that had destroyed over 20 cities around the globe. Not to mention the only way any further attacks of the kind could be prevented. There were special forces in the vicinity of Belial's fortress, the radar beacon they were using for navigation proved that, but they lacked the strength and firepower to do much about the place.

A long way south, two human aircraft carrier battle groups were due to enter the Hellish Sea and start pounding their way up north but even flat out it would be two weeks before they were on station – and supporting them this far away from a home base would be a real pain. No, for the moment, the bombers were it, the best and most plausible form of striking at the source of the sky-volcanos.

"Tankers ahead Curt." The co-pilots voice was relieved. It hadn't quite been decided what to do if the complex refueling arrangements hadn't worked. The B-700s couldn't make it to the target area without refueling so if the refueling went sour, the aircraft went down.

Trafford assumed that the only course of action would be to walk out but 12,000 miles was a long way by B-700. On foot it was an impossibility even forgetting the hostile environment of Netherworld. So, seeing the glint of red as the light flashed off the silver wings of the tankers was a great relief.

"Got them. This is Foxhound Leader to all Foxhounds. Tankers in sight, prepare for refueling." Trafford relaxed a little and shifted in his seat again. "7500 miles out, none of us are going to walk right for a month after this."

"There's always the steam baths and massages." His co-pilot's voice was droll, the idea came from an old film starring Jimmy Stewart and its ideas on post-flight treatment were a long-standing bomber crew joke.

"Yeah, right. It look to you like the clag is a bit thinner up here? Sometimes I'd swear I can almost see the ground down below."

"Just your imagination Curt. Take two reality pills and remember we're bombing the crap out of Underworld."

Walls of Dis, The Eye of Terror

This wasn't like normal sieges. The rules of a siege were well-established; the defenders mounted guard on the walls of the besieged fortress, the attackers started to build their own fortifications around that fortress. Their aim was to cut supplies to the besieged garrison and eventually bring about its surrender.

If that didn't seem likely, they would concentrate on the weakest point of the line and break through there. Or try to, a wise garrison commander kept a force in reserve for exactly that eventuality. The reserve force could be used another way, if food was running out, it could launch an attack on the weakest point of the fortifications and break out. If there was a reserve.

Nobody had ever besieged Dis since the Great Celestial War. It was too big, its walls too long and there were too many demons. It would require the total armies of Netherworld to set up a proper siege. Dagon had 200,000 legions left, of whom 24,000 were Krakens and 16,0000 cavalry.

That left him with 160,000 legions of foot soldiers, 1.6 billion in total. That meant he had 40 soldier for every meter of wall. This wasn't a garrison, it was a heavy fortress. But nobody had told the mortal army that putting Dis under siege was impossible, so they had gone ahead and done it anyway.

At first, Dagon didn't even believe that the city had been put under siege. There were no earthen walls being thrown up, no garrison surrounding the city.

The mortal had started to arrive and set up their camps, scattered around the city, wherever they felt the ground suited them. Isolated encampments, just their tanks and mickvees parked on the plains, surrounded by a wall of earth. And their artillery of course, Briefly Dagon wondered at how Belial had got to know all the names for the human weapons, was he in league with them?

That was a question better not asked because Belial was now Abaddon's favorite and to criticize him meant death. Anyway, the names were good, 'aircraft' made much more sense than 'sky chariot' and few now used the original demon names.

Dagon shook his head and returned to the problems of the siege. He had more soldiers, more by far than the mortals. The mortal encampments hadn't linked up, they were still separate entities.

Last night, some demons outside had tried to get caravans of supplies through to the city, knowing that prices within the walls were already soaring. The great camps between the mortal positions had seemed an open invitation and that was just what they had been. An invitation to destruction.

The caravans had set out and died under a hail of mage bolts – Dagon stopped himself and carefully used the right words. A hail of artillery fire. The caravans had been destroyed, when the light had returned, all that was left of them was charred wreckage. The siege was as tight as if the humans had surrounded Dis. How they'd done it, Dagon didn't understand but they had and that was all that mattered.

"Keep down My Lord." One of the foot soldiers near him whispered urgently. That was something else Dagon had noted. The soldiers up here crouched behind the stone crenellation and spoke in whispers. They were afraid, mortally afraid and once more Dagon knew that the fall of Dis was inevitable.

"You fear the mortals?" Dagon's voice was silky as he asked the question that was also a threat.

"The mortal, no. Their magery yes." The new words hadn't spread down to the rank and file yet. "My Lord, if they see you, you will die. They can see in the dark and strike without warning."

The ranker measured distances and the route that Dagon had used to approach. "My Lord, they are watching now for you. They saw you come to us and now they wait for you. When you appear again, if you appear again, you will die. Watch this."

The soldier placed a spare helmet, Dagon didn't like to think of how the helmet had become a spare, on a trident and lifted it where Dagon's head would be if he stood up. There was a dull thud and the helmet lurched and spun. When Dagon looked at it, there was a hole the size of his talon punched in the front but the back was a gaping void, its edges hot and singed.

"Thirteen soldiers we've lost tonight to that magery, on just this section of the wall. How many more, I don't know but if the rest of the walls are like this…"

The soldier didn't need to finish the thought but Dagon did it for him, silently, in his head. If this rate of attrition kept up, he wouldn't even have a defense when the assault came. He had a mental picture of what that would mean, the humans breaking through the walls, their tanks and mickvees plowing through the streets, their artillery devastating the city and they took in by storm.

Every demon knew what happened when a fortress fell to attack by storm, a days-long orgy of looting, rape, pillage and torture than would only end when there was nothing left to kill and destroy. If the mortals were as efficient at storming fortresses as they were at destroying armies in the field, and there was no reason why they should not be, then Dis was indeed doomed. And with it the whole demon race.

Dis could not be stormed, its surrender had to be negotiated before the mortals got to work. Deumos had been right, somebody had to contact the mortals and ask for terms. But, nobody could do that while Abaddon still lived. The answer was obvious although millennia of loyalty screamed in protest at the inevitable conclusion. Abaddon had to go. That meant Dagon had to see Deumos and throw his lot in with her plan. Now, quickly because the mortals would attack soon and then it would be too late for Dis and everybody who lived within it.