Armageddon

Chapter Fifty Three

Banks of the Phlegethon River, Hell

It wasn’t the way Abigor had described in the last report he had made before his disgrace and desertion. He’d spoken of the human forces lining up behind ridges, ready to hurl their mage-fire bolts into an attacking enemy. That wasn’t how these humans were deploying at all. They were spread out, small strong-points forming, each built around four of their iron chariots. There were hundreds of those little forts, arranged in staggered rows with great distances between them, stretching back as far as he could see. The iron chariots were surrounded by earthworks, the red soil of hell piled up in great banks so that only the curious round structures on top of the chariots peered over the crest. Another thing that didn’t make sense, didn’t that provide dead ground close in to each little fortress? Beelzebub thought that over carefully.

“The day of glory draws closer master.” Chiknathragothem spoke deferentially to the great demon he served, Satan’s favorite and nearest-thing-to-trusted General. “Soon we shall lead the great charge that will tear these humans apart.”

“I think not.” Beelzebub was still mulling over the sight before him.

“Sire?” That had been an unexpected retort and Chiknathragothem didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“Abigor made a wild charge at the enemy and look where it got him. Defeated and disgraced. We must try to be a little more cunning. Where is Asmodeus’s Army?”

“A day’s march out Sire. Coming up from the south. Two hundred and thirty three legions including nine of cavalry and three of fliers. All he had save for the ten he took down to the pit.”

“Where they did him little good eh Chiknathragothem?” The death of Asmodeus was still causing shock-waves throughout Hell. The other Great Dukes had descended on his estates and property with unparalleled avarice, hoping to divide the spoils between themselves. And what spoils there were for Asmodeus had been a rich and powerful Duke, to absorb even a portion of his holdings would enhance the power and status of any noble demon.

That was what had made the next step so inexplicable. Normally Satan encouraged infighting and maneuvering amongst his entourage on the very sensible basis that when they were conspiring against each other, they would not be conspiring against him. But this time Satan Mekratrig had stilled the struggle with a single booming command that had echoed throughout the streets of Dis. Rather like the strange flying chariots of the humans that made no noise when coming but went overhead with a dreadful crash and left a deafening scream behind them. Satan had gathered his court and harangued them all for their disloyalty and treachery, asking them why they fought each other when the humans needed destroying. Only his loyal vassals Beelzebub and Belial were standing by him, he said, while others looked only to their own gain. As a result, the holdings of Asmodeus would be distributed by Satan when the war against the humans was over and the extent of the rewards would be measured by the service the recipients had provided. And so far, Satan had concluded darkly, only Belial had qualified.

The thought that Belial might inherit the whole of Asmodeus’s vast holdings had horrified the demon hierarchy. All too many remembered the slights and humiliations they had visited upon him when to do so won them favor in Satan’s eyes. The destruction of Sheffield had added very real fear to the horror, was it not possible that Belial might take his vengeance by doing the same to them? And there were his gorgons to consider; Euryale was well-known for her large collection of cherished and carefully-maintained grudges.

“Chiknathragothem, see here where the Phlegethon bends? It turns towards us here, then turns back to its original course for about 20 leagues, then turns away from us before one more returning to its original course.”

Chiknathragothem looked at the parchment with the line of the river drawn on it. The course of the river was primarily a straight line but here, near Dis, there was a great bulge towards the Infernal City.

“The humans have set up their defenses here, fortifying this bulge. It is obvious they intend to use it as a launch point for their attack on Dis itself. So we must strike first, to destroy this position.” Beelzebub thought for a few seconds. “Abigor told us that the humans like to encircle their enemies, so that none can get away when they start to destroy them. Perhaps we should do the same.”

“But Sire, if an enemy has no means of retreat, will he not fight harder?”

“Chiknathragothem, Abigor took more that 400,000 with him, 60 Legions. The humans wiped them out, almost to the last. One demon in a thousand returned. Do you seriously think the humans can fight any harder than already have? No, I think not. You will take Asmodeus’s Army and move it here, where the river turns away from Dis. And you will thrust across the river there and move into the rear of the defense along the Phlegethon. I will assign you three additional legions of fliers for the assault. And Belial is sending us 80 Wvverns that he has trained to attack forces on the ground. We will see how the humans cope with fire from the sky. My main thrust will be at the upstream bend, and I will also move into their rear. We shall meet behind the great bulge with the human army trapped against the river. And then we will destroy them.

“Think on this Chiknathragothem, had things gone as originally planned, we would be fighting on Earth, far from sight and where the news of our victories would be sung by Heralds. But now, we will win the fight within Satan’s sight, under his own walls. Much will be our glory and great our rewards.”

Conference Room, The White House, Washington D.C.

“What is the news from Sheffield?”

“Cautiously good Mr President. Our vulcanologist, Keavy McManus, has measured the lava flow and its decreasing steadily. Since the eruption started, its fallen off by around 30 percent and the rate of decline is accelerating. There are shifts in the gas content of the lava and its composition that also indicate that the magma chamber is nearly empty and that means the end of this disaster may be in sight at last.

“Mrs. McManus believes that we didn’t get the full blast from a primary volcano. Her opinion is that the structure that caused this problem is a major caldera with a large number of daughter outlets around it. We got the output from one of those daughters. That would match up with the description of Tartarus we got from Abigor and that Herald creature. Where is he by the way?”

“Abigor, still at Hell-Alpha. Spends most of his time answering our questions or watching war movies. He’s very taken with the Hollywood definition of war. Although that Spartan spearmen we found isn’t so enamored, The troops had a showing of “300” and he sat in on it. He was foaming at the mouth by the end and tried to stick his spear through the screen. I hate to think what will happen when our Japanese Samurai sees ‘Kagemusha’.”

“Kagemusha is supposed to be very accurate actually. But I think Zack Snyder had better run for his life if Aeneas finds out where he lives.”

On the great video screen, Gordon Brown drummed his fingers angrily. He wasn’t used to the way American meetings tended to wander off the point sometimes. “Mr. President, I didn’t mean Abigor, I meant the Herald thing that was with him. Menthol, or whatever his name was. What is he doing?”

“ Memnon.” Condoleezza Rice smiled engagingly at the screen. “He’s off doing what he does best, going places in Hell. We can contact him anywhere we want, any time. So, where he is can be very important to us.”

“What Doctor Rice means.” Secretary Warner threw an amused glance at his colleague. She was one of the few people who had contributed her name to the international lexicon. Across the diplomatic world, a Condele referred to a long, impressive and reassuring speech that, on close examination said nothing and meant nothing,. “Is that Memnon is engaged in an undercover operation of critical importance and we’re not at liberty to say any more than that in case that operation is endangered.”

“That is as may be. But the British people want vengeance for Sheffield.” Brown was truculent and the other listeners believed he had every right to be. The destruction of Sheffield with its 15,000 dead, the number was still rising, had been a hard blow.

“And they shall have it Gordon. Pressed down and running over. But, we must make certain that our vengeance is both appropriate and properly targeted. That blow must make our enemies weep bitter tears, not just for the pain it inflicts but for the harm it causes.”

Brown was silent for a few seconds. He knew what the President was really saying, that the vengeance for Sheffield must do real harm to the enemy. For all its horror, Sheffield had not. Which gave rise to the question that had never been satisfactorily answered, why had that city been hit. It was almost pointless, a minimal return for what had surely been a great effort.

“Aye, I can understand that. But the British people, they need to see something happen. Can’t we blow something up? We have the weapons, why not use them?”

Senator Warner suddenly looked weary. “I wish we could. But we’re in a long war, we have no idea of how long. We have a rough idea of how big Hell is, and the answer is frightening. The land area of Hell exceeds that of our own world and it’s all grouped in one great continent. It could take us most of a generation to establish our hold over it and if we’re not careful, we could end up fighting a guerilla war that would last for longer than that. And beyond that, we have the war against heaven. We can be sure those who reside there, have been watching what happens in hell and are casting their plans accordingly. We need to keep as much of our power in reserve as we can. We must release just enough at any given time to maintain our superiority and that’s it.”

“Easy for you to say Sir. But the political pressure here to do something is overwhelming. It is politically essential that we be seen to take a terrible revenge for what has been done to us. There must be some action we can take. If not, I honestly question whether our people’s morale will hold up. It is easy for you to say we should hold on and measure our revenge but it is not your city that is now a lava pit. Our people go to sleep every night, wondering whether this is the night that a volcano will open over their heads.”

“Perhaps there are some things you can do.” From the screen, General Petraeus spoke, the red sky outside the window of his office revealing that he was speaking directly from Hell. In fact, the transmission was going out by way of a fiber optics cable to a transmitter the other side of the Hellmouth but that was another matter. A scant few weeks earlier, anybody who claimed that a television transmission from Hell was possible would have been declared insane. That had happened all too often, but those who had been declared insane were due a major apology. Now it was a mark of insanity not to wear the trademark tinfoil hat.

“In a few hours, perhaps no more than two days, there will be the biggest battle the world has ever seen. We’ve spotted two baldrick armies closing in on our defense line along the Phlegethon river. Between them, they number almost three and a quarter million baldricks. If our intelligence is anything to go by, and our sources have proved reliable to date, this is a major part of the baldrick professional army. We intend to destroy that army and we will be using our tactical air power to achieve a large part of that. That will let the secret of one of our most devastating weapons be out of the bag then. You have your Tornados Mister Brown, we have a map of Dis and we can suggest a few targets that might be highly satisfactory. They’ll act as a curtain-raiser to the main act.” Petraeus hesitated, what he was about to say could endanger humanity’s best hope for preventing further Sheffields. “There is another possibility also. Soon, we will be able to strike directly at the source of these volcano attacks. We need Special Forces troops to do that and our own are already thinly spread supporting the insurgent groups in Hell. Your SAS and SBS troops are well-known as being the best in the world at their trade. If you can ready a strike force, we can, when the time is right, send it in.”

“So something is happening? That is good to know. Thank you General, I look forward to hearing from you.”

The Ultimate Temple, Heaven

“And what is the news of the war?”

“The Humans have done well, oh nameless one, Lord and God of all. They have breached the defenses of Hell and even now mass for an assault on the eternal enemy in his lair of Dis. The infernal one himself is massing his army to strike back. A great battle is looming, one that will pit our enemies against each other.

“The Infernal Enemy has struck back against the humans in their homes. He has destroyed one of their cities by pouring lava over it.”

There was an affectionate laugh from the great throne that dominated the room. Around the walls, the singers carried on their complex chorus of eternal praise, but some of the words had sunk home into their minds, numbed by countless millennia of repeating the same hymns. The humans were winning the battle against hell, could salvation be at hand? Could there be salvation from salvation?

“That Belial, he always was a joker. Even when the Eternal Enemy seized credit for his destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.”

That was rich thought Michael to himself. Considering Yahweh himself had stolen credit for that particular prank.

“The humans are cowering in fear at the destruction?” The amusement in Yahweh’s voice had gone.

“No, oh nameless one, Lord and God of all. There is fear yes, but much more anger. In their own strange words, they are royally pissed off. I think the Eternal Enemy will rue the day he tried that action.”

“Who cares what he will or will not rue. It is the humans who must be made to bend. They denied me my worship. They challenged my rulings. They dared to argue with my divine truths!” The voice rose into a demented scream and for a brief second Yahweh sounded like Satan in one of his more extravagant moods. Then the voice returned to normal. “They must be brought back into the fold, they must be returned to their rightful state of obedience. If the Eternal Enemy cannot do this then we must. Uriel has been readied, he is planning his attack now. If the humans do not fold before the might of the Eternal Enemy’s army, then they must be made to fold before our anger.”

Underground Caverns, City of Dis

She'd been this way many times, most recently to let others know about the new arrivals, who had slipped back out while she was gone. The new arrivals, who were doing things that she'd never have believed if she hadn't seen them with her own eyes. Her thoughts went back to the assault she'd witnessed, how they had magicked down the walls, then moved methodically through the ruins, ruthlessly killing and killing and killing.

How they did it, she didn't know. She'd never been a fighter, preferring instead to ply a different trade, but she'd been in contact with enough soldiers to tell when someone knew what he was doing. Or she, in the case of this Kim. And, during her six to ten thousand years as a free person in Hell – she wasn't sure how many; the centuries blurred together now – she'd made contacts, and met quite a few military men. Most had been just the humble rank-and-file, but not all. Some had been great leaders and one of them was just down the passage. In this small underground city hewn from the natural cave network beneath this spur of the giant encircling city of Dis, the torches lit the dark passage with a flickering, orange light that played off the dry stone tunnel; above them was thousands of years' worth of soot staining the rock.

The passage branched; before turning left, Rahab looked at the symbol scratched in the rock, as much out of habit as to remind herself; she'd been this way many, many times over the centuries to consult with the man who lived at its end, behind the simple wooden door that was before her now. She knocked twice, then thrice, a code as old as the resistance. If it's so old, how do we know they don't know? That was a disturbing thought, of the kind she'd been having more and more since the newcomers had arrived with their strange ways.

The door cracked open; a man with heavy eyebrows and what seemed a perpetual frown peered out underneath short golden curls. His face softened as much as it could when he saw who had knocked. “Ah, Rahab. Please come in.” He opened the door wider to allow her to enter, and then shut it behind her.

The room was much like the one she'd left a few minutes before, except that in the fireplace was a fire. In front of the fire was positioned a large wooden table strewn over with piles of dried clay tablets and some parchments. Sitting hunched with his back to her, carefully impressing on a wet tablet with a stylus, was a lithe man of average height, with thin black hair. Standing behind him and looking over his shoulder was a tall, dark, man with a short crew cut and a jutting chin.

At the sound of Rahab's entrance, the man glanced over his shoulder, then smiled broadly, standing up and stretching. “Rahab! Come in! It has been too long!”

Rahab smiled wanly back and embraced him. “Gaius Julius Caesar, it has indeed been too long.”

He returned the hug warmly, then held her at arm's length. “What brings you here, my friend? The changes shaking up this prison we live in?”

The surprise must have been evident on her face, because he burst into laughter even before she could ask, “You know about it?”

“Rahab, how long have you known what I've been doing here? I have contacts all over Hell, and I have information constantly coming in.” Caesar smiled. “I know that there are rumors flying all throughout Mekatrig's domain about an invasion of Earth, about Abigor and his expeditionary force, and about a part of the Fifth Ring, along the Styx, where they dare not go. And most of all, of the assassination of Asmodeus. That news made all of hell ring with its chimes. Have you come to give me a rumor?”

“No,” Rahab said firmly. “I have something far better than a rumor. I have seen it all firsthand.”

Caesar's smile was gone in a flash, and he pulled a chair away from the hearth. “Sit,” he said, gesturing. She sat, he sat, and then she started talking. She told about her first encounter with the four strange escapees, how she'd led them to the holding room, and how they'd disappeared. She told about the explosions that had started echoing across the swamps, how the bridge across the Styx had been destroyed as though it were built of children's blocks, how the demonic patrols had started disappearing. She told how their shattered, lifeless bodies had started appearing, with the letters “PFLH” scrawled in the greenish blood.

After a little bit, Caesar held up his hand. “Forgive me; I was so happy to see you, I did not offer you refreshments. Pullo, please get our guest some water.”

His companion nodded and moved into an adjoining chamber. Caesar nodded at Rahab. “Please. Continue.”

And she did, stopping only to take the cup of water from Titus Pullo. Now, she told of her encounter with the forces, of the assault on the castle she had witnessed. She told of the lightning speed with which the insurgents had moved, of their ability to kill from a distance and to call explosions. As she did so, Lucius Vorenus moved slightly and listened to her words. Always the eternal soldier she thought. And she told of the strange man she had been tasked to hide, the man who was so fascinated with ants. Then she was done, and Caesar stared at the wall, his face hard and unmoving in the firelight. The only clue to his thoughts was the drumming of his heel on the ground, which continued incessantly.

At last, he spoke. “Rahab, I need you to contact the leader of this PFLH. I need to talk to her as soon as possible. Tell her that we will meet on neutral ground of her choosing. She will know that this means I am approaching her in good faith. I will send Pullo and Vorenus with you; they are to collect the man you brought with you and bring him back here. Now go; go now, and may the powerful gods that caused me to be spared down here guard you also.”