Armageddon?? (70 page)

Howard
blinked. “Ok then, Miss McManus.” He pointed at the map. “We’re trying to use
the Don valley to pipe the lava through the central industrial area. The plan
is to turn the Meadowhall region into a cooling pond…”

Keavy
cut him short. “I know, I brought myself up to date on the plane, they emailed
me all this stuff. You’re not thinking long term enough though. I assume you
want to save the motorway viaduct if possible?”

“Yes,
and the new rail freight terminal, they’re finally rebuilding the Tinsley
marshalling yard you know…” Even after all the destruction, Spurrier just
couldn’t help letting a little pride creep into his voice. “Wait, how long do
you think this eruption could last?”

Keavy
was scanning the inventories, rosters and situation reports littering the
table. “It’s Mrs. McManus by the way… Anyway, can’t tell for sure of course…
the survey team isn’t set up yet, military still wouldn’t let them through last
time I heard… You see the thing is…”

She
looked up. “To get that kind of pressure they had to be draining from well
inside the throat – but not too deep, since it isn’t spraying up thousands of
meters. The flow rate slackened off in the first hour, then built up again. On
earth, lava like that would come from a shield volcano. My guess is draining
all that lava off the top of the vent triggered a full scale eruption, most of
which is getting sucked through to us. Could be days, weeks or months before it
lets up… no way to tell without seeing the geology at the other end.”

It
was Keavy's turn to gesture at the map. “If it doesn't let up ash buildup and
fumes will render this whole area uninhabitable anyway. But we can buy the
crews enough time to dismantle and move the factories. Now, about your dyke
placement…”

Cliffton
Council Estate, Nottingham, United Kingdom

The
screen flicked between grainy images of burning and collapsing buildings, of
streams of glowing lava progressing inexorably through city streets and of
people running in terror from it all. Some were apparently less terrified than
others, because they'd taken the time to record the disaster on their
cellphones and digicams. The later images were clearer but less dramatic; they
showed bulldozers flattening buildings and creating ramparts from the rubble,
lines of fire crews trying to halt the advance of the flames and rescue crews
carrying stretchers out of damaged buildings. The montage ended on images of
gridlocked roads lined with armed soldiers and refugees wandering aimlessly
about.

Meanwhile
the text continued to scroll across the bottom of the screen: 'Central
Sheffield destroyed by volcanic activity, thousands dead, presumed demonic
attack may be linked to High Peak incident. Prime Minister asks nation to
remain calm and stay vigilant for any further Baldrick activity...'

"The
city has now been completely sealed off by army units. This is the closest we
can get, as the government has made it clear that civilians will not be allowed
through the perimeter."

The
BBC News correspondent was standing on a flat roof, lit by a harsh floodlight.
The sky behind him was filled entirely by a diffuse orange glow, the smoke now
completely obscuring the area around the portal. A deep rumbling was clearly
audible.

"The
lava still appears to be flowing... the fire services are starting to get the
fires under control, but they're contending with toxic smoke and collapsing
buildings."

A
bright flare appeared in the background, hazy but quite distinct from the
central glow. A couple of seconds later a crackling roar could be heard, while
the speaker flinched visibly.

"That
was probably the gasometer at Attercliffe, we were told that there was some
difficultly pumping the gas away with the power out." The speaker composed
himself.

"The
emergency services are making a tremendous effort to limit casualties and
contain the damage. They aren't the only ones... we've heard numerous reports
of ordinary people pulling casualties out of the rubble, in the first hour
after the attack... I understand construction workers have been arriving at the
cordon and volunteering to help with the firebreaks."

Christopher
Hughes stared at the television in horror. Not that this was a matter of
choice; he had tried to look away, but his limbs seemed frozen and the effort
brought only blinding pain. The terrible presence of them made it difficult to
even think clearly. It was obvious that he'd made a horrible mistake. The
shadow government wasn't the enemy after all, they'd probably been secretly preparing
humanity to fight the demons for decades, if not centuries. Christopher
withdrew to a corner of his own mind, mentally whimpering at the thought of how
many people the demons would make him hurt before they were done with him.

Tapton
Hall, Western Sheffield, United Kingdom

Since
the opening of the portal, Lakheenahuknaasi’s universe had consisted mostly of
pain. The first shot had merely smashed a finger in her left wing and tearing a
ragged hole in the membrane. The last two had ripped through her right leg,
shattering the femur, mangling the knee and nearly amputating the appendage.
She had fallen from the sky, trailing a spray of blood behind her, desperately
trying to extend her glide far enough to escape the tide of lava. She managed
to stay in the air for almost a minute, tossed about by the blast wave and then
the inrushing winds. Finally she could manage no more and aimed for a clump of
foliage that had offered some scant hope of concealment. The ground rushed up
Lakheenahuknaasi’s world went black.

She
had awoken to a fresh agony; someone had shoved her hand into a fire. Barely
able to avoid screaming with the pain, the gorgon hauled herself upright. The
clump of bushes was starting to burn, nearby trees had been set on fire by a
projectile thrown from the volcano. Lakheenahuknaasi could hear human screams
but also shouted orders and the growling their chariots made when moving. No
doubt their army had moved in to try and control the chaos and if she didn’t
move right now they would doubtless capture her and torture her to death in
revenge.

The
gorgon crawled forward, dragging her broken wings and mutilated leg behind her.
There was a large square stone building ahead, presenting a wall full of square
windows, many broken by the initial shock. She just had to hope that it had
been deserted. After what seemed like an eternity she was at the base of the
wall, feeling horribly exposed in the open. She could spare only seconds to
rest before she had to drag herself through the nearest broken window. The
jagged glass couldn’t penetrate her scales but it tore fresh rips in her wings;
a pain that seemed trivial compared to what she’d already endured.
Lakheenahuknaasi had collapsed onto some sort of cot and promptly fainted from
blood loss.

When
she awoke again it was to a repetitive banging sound. Humans were coming. It
sounded like doors opening forcefully, mixed with footsteps. Sometimes it was
accompanied by a splintering crack. They were searching the building and the
sound was definitely getting nearer. For the first time in her life,
Lakheenahuknaasi was paralyzed by fear of the humans. What horrors would they
inflict when they found her?

Great
Hall of the Adamant Fastness, Outer Rim of Hell

Demonic
laughter echoed throughout the hall, as the assembled nobles took turns forcing
themselves into the human’s mind. Servants scurried about with plates of
freshly slaughtered livestock and cages of live vermin delicacies. The
atmosphere was entirely festive; Belial’s court lacked the sophisticated entertainments
of his wealthier peers, but the strike force had taken to chanting battle songs
and many of the nobles were joining in. They were not exactly skilled singers
at the best of times and the copious quantities of fermented fungus being
consumed were not helping matters. No one seemed to mind however.

Euryale
had just arrived back from the volcano and her normally bright bronze scales
were still streaked with ash. She pushed her way through the rowdy lesser
demons and arrived at the central table.

“Ah,
Euryale, you return to witness my triumph.” Belial pushed a heavy goblet of
faintly glowing liquid into her hand. The fine liquor was made from juices
squeezed from the crushed abdomens of a rare insect; it was rarely seen in
Tartarus. “The attack destroyed scores of their great towers, razed hundreds of
workshops and killed many thousands of humans.”

“Most
pleasing, my Lord. However…”

The
count continued on as if he hadn’t heard her. It looked like he’d already put
away quite a bit of the glow wine. “Of course I appreciate your efforts. Such a
shame Baroness Yulupki isn’t here to receive similar praise.”

Euryale
snorted. It gave her great pleasure to envision the naga being hauled over to
the second volcano on the back of a lurching Great Beast and hating every
minute of it. She’d requested a wyvern of course but Euryale had made sure that
they were ‘none available’ and then chosen the most cantankerous Great Beast in
the stables..

“And
what of your handmaiden? Lac-nina-urk-nasee wasn’t it?”

The
gorgon rolled her eyes, confident that Belial was too drunk to notice. She put
down the goblet and replied carefully, shouting to be heard over the din. “As I
was about to say, my lord, neither I nor any of my servants have been able to
contact her. Most likely she was killed by the humans.”

The
count’s face flickered with a moment of concern before brightening again. “Oh
well, no matter. She died gloriously. A gorgon for a whole city seems like a
fair trade to me.”

Euryale
grit her fangs. “In that case I hope your ‘stratagem’ will not require the
destruction of many more cities. Now if you would excuse me…” The gorgon queen
whirled around and stormed off, the point of her tail quite deliberately
flicking the goblet from the table as she went. Belial surged to his feet and
began to summon psychic force to smite the insubordinate wench, but then
paused. What if he had to kill her? Best not risk that until after the second
attack he had promised Satan was complete. He shrugged, laughed and settled
back into his throne. There would be plenty of time to clip the gorgon’s wings
later. Hopefully metaphorically, Belial mused, but you never knew with females.

In
a corridor of the palace Euryale was also having second thoughts. Belial’s
casual willingness to sacrifice her kindred had stoked her rage. True, she was
just as willing to send any number of lesser demons to their deaths to achieve
her own aims. But lesser demons teemed in multitudes. Millennia after the
purge, there were still precious few gorgons in existence and Euryale was not
about to allow Belial to undo her progress.

Still,
he was not that hard to manipulate as long as she applied herself. Defiance
like that risked a confrontation and even if she somehow won the physical
contest, she doubted she’d last long as ruler of Tartarus. Losing her temper
like that risked…

The
gorgon’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a servile demon trying to
attract her attention. “Ah my lady, I abase myself before your glory and humbly
ask…”

“What
is it?” Euryale snapped, lacking the patience for the usual groveling.

“The
six flights of wyvern riders that the count bid depart, which beasts should
we…”

“What
is this?” The gorgon queen fixed the servant with a multi-eyed stare. “Where
are my wyverns going and why?”

“To
the grand army, for the destruction of the human invaders!”

Euryale
shook her head. Belial seemed bent on squandering precious assets. “Did he say
why he is risking my, ah…, his wyverns when Beelzebub must have two score
legions of harpies to throw against the human sky chariots?”

The
stunted orc seemed to be trying to shrink into the floor. Likely he thought
there was no safe answer to this question.

“My
lady, it is my understanding… the wyverns are to be loaded with hail javelins
and bags of brimstone .… I do not think they are intended to fight the human
sky chariots.”

Euryale
stared for a moment before she realized what the count was doing. It wasn’t
about Satan’s favor, the magma attack was a far better way to gain that, it was
simply a merchant taking an opportunity to demonstrate his wares.

“Very
well. Attend me.” She set off for the wyvern roosts.

Chapter
Fifty

Seafire
One, over the Midlands, England.  Acting Captain Sharkey Ward, RN (yes, the
‘acting’ part of his rank did slightly irritate him) did not need to do any
fancy navigation on the way to Sheffield. The waterfall of lava flowing out of
the sky and the huge smoke plume rising over what had once been the centre of
the city was a give away. Below his Sea Harrier FA.2 the main roads leading
towards Sheffield were a sea of blue lights. Ward, and his wingman Commander
Andy Auld, RN, who was also a recently recalled former Sea Jet pilot, had been
assigned to help provide reconnaissance support to ground forces, and also
provide local CAP if necessary. For the later role both aircraft were armed with
four AMRAAM missiles and a pair of 30mm ADEN cannon pods, while for the former
a BAE digital recce pod with the capability to down-load its imagery to ground
stations was fitted to the centre-line pylon between the cannons.