"Bah! A few thousand of the babau-ogres, saucer-eyed nikomars in lesser numbers, and erhaps a thousand ssilhex. You are influenced by fear — by cowardice!"

"And the vaunted devils, prince?" Mandrillagon queried with derision. Demons near to him shrank back for the monstrous creature's face was contorted in fury, and his small eyes flamed with hatred. "Were they too moved by such fright?"

That made Demogorgon pause. He assessed all he had learned carefully. On the left of the enemy host, their general and strongest sub-commander were in the process of hooking around. Perhaps it was only a weak attack but it was an aggressive move. The force on the opposite end of their position was stronger, even though only Neigel was there to lead. . . . Perhaps that was a false assumption. "Withdraw slowly, cousin. Save what troops you can. Strike if possible at pursuit. When you've disengaged fully, set up a defensive position, then report here to me."

Without waiting for a reply, Demogorgon closed his mind. He had to find out exactly what was transpiring on the right of Vuron's front. The albino one was sly and tricky. If he appeared on one side, Demogorgon suspected that he had better watch the other closely. One of the scryers was nearby. A score of powerful ahazu-demons served the two-headed demon king as officers and watchers. "What force now on our left?"

"Rot the foe," the square-shaped demon responded, "and may your power wax over all. Great Demogorgon. Ten thousand of the fesroo newly come are at work there. We have seen the arrival of half again as many of the subjects of Yeenoghu, my Liege. More I cannot venture. . . ."

So! Fresh troops in some numbers. If so many were apparent, then there were probably more hidden. No matter. Even if the black one had sent twice that many, and Lord Yeenoghu with them. It was too little. Vuron and Palvlag far to the left; Nergel, possibly Yeenoghu, on the far right. The long line, the center, would have only the weakling toad-kisser.

Vastyi, to command — he and the drow bitch Eclavdra. Demogorgon began to issue orders with both heads.

"Screen both of our flanks strongly. A corps of hordlings on our right should hold any advance by the enemy there. Send three divisions of dreggals to the left," the demon prince's leftmost head commanded simultaneously. "Send for my war bands of dusins, all of them. The reserve of mixed demons, too. Every daemon company and all of the remaining dumalduns as well are to advance when the iron gongs are beaten!"

Demogorgon meant to strike the enemy now, squarely in the center of their long, thin line. Vuron's position was attenuated, the albino had put himself out of place, and both flanks were busy attacking. This was the perfect time for a counterstroke, a blow that would break the enemy in the middle and bring total defeat to them. Fifty thousand dusins, fearless and tough, with crocodile Jaws and iron weapons, his own guards, would be the point that would break the foe's front and pierce its heart. With superiority of six to one, there could be no doubt that they would triumph. To be on the safe side, though, Demogorgon decided to accompany the assault in person, bringing with him the Theorpart that Infestix had placed in his charge. The power of the relic would assure that no leader of the foe managed to interfere.

Chapter 5

THE CLANGOR OF IRON GONGS was rolling thunder across the field. The beating of the sixty great discs almost drowned out the tramp of demon foot and dreggal hoof. A hundred thousand feet and even more hooves: the hard ground trembled.

As a great avalanche moves came the center of Demogorgon's horde. The twin-tailed banners above Demogorgon's own guards were of obsidian black and bright green, just as were the tabards of the thickly thewed dusin demons who marched beneath the flapping pennons. A dozen or more other flags sprouted from the blocks of soldiers flanking them: gold and maroon represented the dreggals, stark purples and plums trimmed with a rainbow of other hues showed where contingents from Hades advanced, while dull violet and somber old silver showed the strength of cacodaemon contingents recruited from Tarterus.

When the center was well away, splayed feet with homy talons, flat elephantine feet, and a weird variety of other sorts too began to move. In ordered step and in disordered stride, a quarter of a million beings and beasts from all the nether realms went forward. Before and behind were scores of petty demon princes and nobles from the other dark planes. The pit hag Raanwil Ledli strode before the cacodaemons in all her obese splendor. Oqokashtor waddled behind the mass of dreggals, with Volophon and Meurteenz having the unenviable forefront positions. Poshban, Agadin, Zerkaar, Vloorm, and other such lordlings from the Abyss drove on their masses of demons. There would be no straggling, no shirking, no flight When the time came, these greater ones would have their work too, for each had enemy champions to fight against, from minor lord to flamewrapped raloog.

Thus all across the entire plain the horde of Demogorgon came, rolling down upon Vuron's position so that its center would strike with the flanks refused — for there, the ape-headed demonking knew, was where the greatest strength of the enemy was clustered. Into the very heart of the albino's line went the attack with the guard dusin corps leading. Both Mandrillagon and Demogorgon were with the roaring dusins, exhorting the demons on, using the force of the Theorpart to strike the foe, to counter any magic used against the attack.

When the wedge-shaped formation of Demogorgon's own struck the thin line opposing it, though, there was a sudden shift. The dusins struck at nothing. The enemy had been naught but illusion. Instead, the line that actually existed was a V-shaped one, and its base was packed with fesroo twenty ranks deep and stiffened by the grinning, bat-faced raloog company that served Vuron as the dusins did Demogorgon. With these greater ones of demonkind was the albino lord himself, wielding a Theorpart in counterpoise to that of the enemy, while nearby was the drow named Eclavdra, high priestess and bearer of the Eye of Deception.

Even as the two forces met with a crash and roar, Demogorgon understood the depth of his own folly, from the distortion of time to the drawing forth of his army. Perhaps he did have a horde that greatly outnumbered the one he fought, but Vuron had brought up fresh troops, packed the center, and then drawn Demogorgon into it. Two or three to one was all the superiority he had here, but the Eye of Deception worked unhindered. The Theorparts wielded by him and the sexless albino cancelled each other out, Vastyi countered Mandrillagon, and the flame demons were sufficient to match all of the greater ones who led his force here. Now Palvlag could thrust into his flank from the right, and Nergel from the left, for his own wings were far back and hardly moving. Giant Jaws were about to close on half of Demogorgon's army!

Two heads, two brains have their advantages. Demogorgon used that edge now. While his left continued to grasp and manipulate the flow of energies from the portion of the relic he held, his right sent a command back to the handful of lieutenants still behind. "Every reserve to me in the center, now! Then have the wings charge. Do you hear? Charge!"

"We hear and obey. Great Demogorgon," came a chorus of responses from the ahazu-demons.

Forgetting that, the twin-headed master of demons began a mental search for his ally, Infestix. Perhaps he had managed to extricate his forces from the trap, perhaps not. Only hard fighting over a long period would answer the question. Demogorgon wished to take no such chance, even at the cost of his pride.

Not now, not with the other Theorpart so close! If the wretched, puling daemon could be of use, why not? Infestix had promised much more than he had delivered so far. Let the rotting scum provide what was needed now.