by Stuart Slade
Unconscious of having caused a spiritual crisis in Dis, Koala Flight arced over the great pit that formed the center of Hell. Mackay looked at the sight below, a supercaldera that would be a vulcanologists dream but represented all of humanities worst nightmares. His thumb itched to pick a target and release his bombs on to it but his orders were strict, fire on ground targets only in self-defense or to protect the reconnaissance aircraft. Still, he could think of the humanity that had to be suffering in the nightmarish scene below and he could promise to come back with every pound of ordnance his faithful Pig could carry. “You got all that Koala-Three?”
“Affirmative.” Koala-Three’s voice was subdued.
“Lets get out of here then.” The four F-111s made a gentle turn, trying to cover as much of Hell as possible. Mackay hoped that, down below, the souls trapped there would see them, some would know what they were and they would spread the word. Humanity was coming with every weapon it could muster and what stood now would not be allowed to stand again.
Banks of the River Styx, Fifth Circle of Hell
“My leader wants to talk, very urgently. Anywhere you wish. It is most important.” Rahab spoke earnestly, Gaius Julius Caesar had been most explicit with his instructions. These humans, living and dead, were what he had spent two millennia waiting for. A way to fight back against the monsters that ran this place.
“Important for him? Or us?”
“For us both I think. He….” Rahab stopped speaking her voice drowned out by a terrible screaming howl.
Lieutenant (deceased) Jade Kim recognized the sky-ripping sound instantly, the sound of jet fighter engines. Even as she looked up, four F-111s emerged from the overcast, their wings stretched out and loaded with bombs, lazily making a turn over Hell. Then, they were gone, on their way back home, just leaving their sound behind. Around her, the living and deceased members of the PFLH were jumping up and down, cheering and smacking each other on the back. Rahab looked at them in amazement.
“What is that terrible noise?”
Kim looked at her, her eyes dancing with joy. “That isn’t noise Rahab. That’s the sound of Freedom.”
High Peak Youth Hostel, Peak District, British Isles
As Lakheenahuknaasi emerged from the portal the first thing that hit her was the overpowering scent of a great deal of blood spilled in a confined space. The second thing was that this part of earth was unpleasantly cold. She found herself in a rather small room packed with demon infantry, whose cloven hooves continued to crunch the smashed remains of wooden furniture. This chamber and the others she could see leading off from it were littered with human corpses, most of them obviously torn apart by demon claws. She stepped lightly around them for now and addressed the squad leader.
“I see that you have not so much secured the area as painted it with human blood. Did they give you any trouble?”
“Very little.” The demon seemed unsure whether he should treat the gorgon was his superior or inferior. “One of them managed to grab a fire-spear and wounded one of my warriors before perishing.”
Lakheenahuknaasi’s gaze followed his gesture. The injured demon was sitting on a broken table, in a white room that reeked of stewed vegetables. His left flank looked like a piece of wood riddled by termites, oozing green blood from numerous tiny holes. As she watched the demon yanked the heart out of a human corpse and stuffed it into his mouth. The dead man still held a fire spear in his hands; a chunk of carved wood with two short black metal rods sticking out of it.
“If you require nothing further?” Some of the demons had slung human corpses over their shoulders, undoubtedly as rations for their victory feast.
“Go. But take that fire spear with you. Baron Trajakrithoth may want to examine its enchantments.”
The demon warriors squeezed back through the portal, which promptly closed up behind them, leaving Lakheenahuknaasi alone in the human building. It seemed to be some sort of inn. with a central common area, what was presumably a kitchen (though she could see no cooking fire), indoor latrines (which appeared to have just been emptied) and several rooms full of (mostly smashed) bunks. It could have been a barracks but for the lack of weapons. A large triangular window showed a sunset obscured by clouds, painting the landscape of rolling grassy hills and forested valleys in a mix of oranges and grays. Here and there beams of golden light broke through and highlighted an outcropping or a stream. It almost looked welcoming save for the sparse flakes of snow melting on the window.
Lakheenahuknaasi could see no other buildings, but if this was an inn travelers could arrive at any moment. She made her way down the stairs, taking care not to slip on the blood still dripping from step to step. The door barring the main entrance was broken and warped; the triple indentations and the dead human woman seemingly still trying to grasp its handle bore witness to a last desperate attempt to escape. Stepping over the body, the gorgon yanked the protesting door open and slipped out onto the moors.
Sure enough, half an hour later Tom Sullivan crested the last ridge and sighted the hostel. “Ah, there it is dear.”
Trailing behind him, his fiancée Jennifer was not in the best of moods. “You said we’d be there two hours ago. This is the last time I let you plan the route.” She paused, out of breath. ”I’m never voting Labor again. If Gordon hadn’t commandeered all the planes we could be in Italy right now. Tony was so much nicer.” Tom shook his head. He was beginning to have second thoughts about this relationship.
The couple made their way down the track to the building. What they saw there left both retching for a good five minutes. As soon as he’d regained his senses, Thomas reached for his mobile. He’d entered the number of the national demon sighting hotline just before they set off, almost as a joke, never expecting horror like this to come to sleepy Yorkshire. Five minutes later the first police units were dispatched to set up a perimeter and ten minutes after that the first territorial army trucks began to roll out of Worsley Barracks.
Lakheenahuknaasi had long since found a convenient cliff and launched herself into the air. There seemed to be no convenient thermals in this freezing place and she was forced to hook her arm spurs into her wings and flap strenuously for altitude. She became acutely conscious of how conspicuous her metallic bronze scales made her after the first time she flew through a shaft of sunlight and lit up like a disco ball.
Lakheenahuknaasi muttered a satanic curse and wished she’d had the foresight to cover herself in mud. She would’ve endured the mocking of the other gorgons if she’d known how much safer it would make her feel now. She considered trying to gain the relative safety of the clouds, but her wing and arm muscles were already tiring and she didn’t want to risk accidentally over-flying the target. Instead she flew low, weaving through the valleys and trying to stay in the lengthening shadows. Though she did not know it, the decision saved her life; air defense control at RAF Boulmer began enforcing a no-fly zone over the area shortly after she descended to an area its radar could not cover. The inclement weather had kept most walkers at home and left the rest disinclined to watch the skies.
The gorgon flew an erratic course through the twisting valleys for the better part of an hour, with only her perception of the planet’s strong magnetic field keeping her heading towards the target. Even using that was hard due to the sheer density of psychic emanations in this part of earth. Clearly the humans had not only learned the art of telepathy, they were using it to constantly gossip with each other. As she flew she saw several isolated farms and the occasional village visible in the distance. Not enough to concern her, but hardly the ‘uninhabited wilderness’ Baron Guruktarqor had described. Most puzzling were the lights that speed along the black strips, some constant yellow, some flickering white and blue. They could have been chariots bearing torches, but for their impossible speed and brightness, matching or even outpacing her own aerial progress.
Finally, as her wing and arm muscles were ready to give up she crested a hill and saw a great city lai
d out before her. It was lit so brightly that at first it seemed to Lakheenahuknaasi that the city was already aflame. On closer inspection however it was clear that she was seeing thousands of torches, strung on poles, shining out of windows and attached to moving carriages. This vast sprawling metropolis had to be the target. She could not see the smoke or fires of the forges yet, but that could wait. The immediate priority was avoiding detection while the portal was summoned. Lakheenahuknaasi glided down to a copse near the top of the hill, keeping the trees between herself and the city as much as possible. Once down she crawled into the undergrowth and crouched shivering under her wings. This world of humans was cold, unbearably cold.
The humans should be thanking me she thought, a nice lava lake is just what this place needs to warm it up a bit.’ The gorgon began reaching out with her mind, straining to push through the barrier and contact her superiors. Immediately she was hit by the overwhelming babble of human telepaths. Most of the mind-speech was not speech at all, merely indecipherable gibberish. Some of it was comprehensible though. Curiously the humans seemed to have found a way to enchant their musical instruments to transmit their notes into the ether. Lakheenahuknaasi shook her head at the thought of wasting energy on such frivolous magery. Another particularly powerful human mage seemed to be chanting the words ‘Hallam Eff Em’ several times a minute, accompanied by jangling chimes. She spent a moment pondering the significance of this ritual before deciding that it must be just another symptom of human insanity.
Pushing the human transmissions aside, she broke through the barrier to contact Euryale. The force of greater demon’s mind was almost overwhelming. ‘This is Lakheenahuknaasi,’ she reported ‘the human city lies before me. I am ready to guide the portal.” Euryale’s response was swift. “I am approaching Jorkastrequar now. Keep the link open and focus your thoughts on the city. They know it not, but a wave of fire is about to carry those pitiful beings straight into our domain.”
Chapter Forty Six
Outer Ring, Seventh Circle of Hell Aeanas continued working with the file; he was nearly through. He’d been worrying it back and forth for some time now, and at last, the left prong of the trident was free. It clattered to the dirt floor of the cave where the right prong lay, leaving only the center on the weapon. Aeanas stood and hefted the weapon. It was heavy, like the doru to which he was accustomed, and the balance seemed correct on it now. It would make a passable weapon.
The warrior called Ori watched him silently. Like Aeanas, he didn’t speak very much, and for this he enjoyed the man’s company. He was grateful and loyal to McElroy and the others, but they prattled on like children! Perhaps Aeanas didn’t want to like his new companions. Sure, they were soldiers, and they found some common ground in that, but everything about them was alien and heterodox. As a Spartan, he’d spent his entire life turning his body into a weapon; turning the doru, the xiphon, and the aspis into extensions of his body. Just by holding a weapon, his muscles knew how best to move it so that he might destroy his enemies. There was nothing else to his life but killing his enemies.
But these soldiers from the future—no, from the present—were different. They knew how to read. They spoke of music and art, and of other forms of entertainment that he could not understand. For their purported superiority to other soldiers(after all, they managed to escape where he hadn’t), the fact remained: their martial prowess was not their only consideration! In that way, Aeanas thought them similar to the citizen-soldiers of the other Greek cities. Though, he mused, there was courage in that kind of man. He recalled those Thespians, those brave men who refused to abandon the Spartans at Thermopylae. The night before they all died, Aeanas recalled sharing a meal with a Thespian named Polyphanes, who was by trade an architect. And the morning before the final battle, he and Polyphanes traded cloaks, and was proud to have died with that man’s cloak upon his shoulders.
But everything about these soldiers was different. Much of what they said was barely comprehensible, anyway. Whatever magic allowed him to understand their speech was somehow flawed, and much of their slang was indecipherable for him. But perhaps most oddly, these alleged soldiers didn’t know how to fight with a sword or spear! Well, most of them didn’t. Ori was a warrior to Aeanas’ liking; he was skilled in many forms of unarmed and armed combat. He had received one of his native blades from the living world, and he practiced frequently. But more than that, he was an outsider, too. He trained for war and only war, so he did not care for art, or music. Like Aeanas, he couldn’t even read. Ori stepped closer to Aeanas and held out his hand. Aeanas passed him the weapon. Ori tried a few maneuvers with it, then passed it back to Aeanas with a grunt.
“Graceless,” he muttered. “The weapon should bend around your body.”
“Why?” Aeanas asked. “A bent spear is useless to the phalanx.”
“What is that?”
“It is how we fight…how we fought,” he corrected, casting a glance of disdain at the modern humans nearby. “Heavy armor, large shields. Shoulder to shoulder, four ranks deep.” He mimicked the pose of a man in the first row. “Make a wall of shields and spearpoints, and break your enemy upon them. Never let a gap open up in your line.”
“A phalanx,” Ori said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “How many men wide?”
“As wide as possible. Prevents flanking.” They were silent for a moment. “And how did you fight?”
“Many ways. Sometimes I would ride and shoot my bow, or charge with a spear. Others I would simply fight with my katana.”
Aeanas held his hand out, and Ori stiffened for a moment. Then, silently, he passed him the weapon. Drawing it out from its sheath, Aeanas commented, “A longer sword. And single edged. Must be made of iron, yes?” Ori grunted in the affirmative.
“So the balance would favor…” he sliced through the air, “…a two-handed grasp. You do not use a shield?”
“Not with the katana. I can parry and counterstrike to great effect with it.”
Aeanas nodded, passing back the katana. “I hope to see you slay a demon with it soon.”
They were silent for a moment. “And you are proficient in unarmed combat?” Ori asked.
Aeanas shrugged. “For my part, yes. I wrestle. I wrestled.”
“I too, grappled. We must spar some time. To test our styles against the other.”
Aeanas smiled at this. “It would be a privilege. I am sure you will be more engaging than the others. I threw McElroy as through he were a woman!”
Ori suppressed a laugh. “Yes, they are soft creatures, made so by their infernal weapons. Why need they fight honorably when they can strike you down from a great distance? They’re so weak that they may count women as soldiers!”
“Hey, baby dick!” snapped Private Cassidy, skin newly grown, stepping in close to them. “You got a problem with me?”
Ori frowned. Aeanas thought that, wherever this Japan was, their men did not suffer the barbed tongues of their women. But they were a long way from Japan, so…
Ori grunted, “I was discussing with Aeanas the weaknesses of modern men, and how they compensate for this weakness through weapons requiring such little strength and courage that even women can wield them.”
“Man, shut the hell up,” Cassidy snarled, crossing her arms over her ample breasts. Aeanas thought them unappealing things, the breasts of a peasant woman with a litter of babes to feed. “If it weren’t for those weapons, you’d still be cooking in that river!” For a moment, Aeanas thought that Ori would strike her, but the moment passed quickly.
“Alright, can it, you guys,” McElroy said, stepping in. “Ori, take your sword and go with DeVanzo and Walsch down to the river. Walsch, you got the rifle.” He turned to Aeanas. “Come on, hoss. You, Cassidy, and I are gonna go check out that cluster of villages on the other side of the northern ridge. You can bring your new spear if you want, but I dunno if these things are worth a damn against baldricks.” He hefted his own trident, adding, “Better than nothing, thoug
h.”
From the cover of the forest’s edge, they watched the sloping grade down to the river. And waited. For Tom Walsch, it was still strange to think that millions of people were writhing in agony beneath that river at this very moment. And why were they pulling out only military? Odds were extremely low that they’d get no civilians at all. Perhaps there were only military in this molten river, civilians went to other torments. Then again, the civilian mindset was different. Persons of weak will might simply resign themselves to their torment and sink to the bottom after a few years of failed escapes. In utter misery, they would only move as reflex to the burning, sightless, deaf, pain the only sensation they knew. Military people of all types would fight, though. Futility didn’t matter; that’s why military history was littered with otherwise pointless last stands. It might take longer for a soldier to break the way civilians did. After all, Walsch had only been in the river for a scant few weeks before he was pulled out, and he had the benefit of hoping that his persistence would pay off. And it did.
“There’s one,” DeVanzo whispered. Walsch scanned the shoreline before spotting the creature. It was an act he’d seen a dozen times. It flopped like a fish for a while, and then, as it became able to breathe and see, it started crawling further up the bank. They would continue until a baldrick sentry happened along, which could mean they’d be anywhere from ten to fifty meters from the river.
This particular one made it about twenty-five before Ori grunted, “Demon. Left.”
Walsch chambered a round and waited. He loved this rifle; it was simple, deadly, and accurate. Though he’d always been an excellent marksman, this thing made it almost too easy. And he had a whole box of ammo to hold them over until the next official resupply.
The baldrick was a typical sentry, sporting a trident and simple bronze armor. He bellowed, as was the wont of these sentries, and charged. The crawling creature, now looking a bit more like a human, stood up and began hobbling away.