Chapter 8

"THE BLACK ONES gather against us, Most Foul."

"Dolt! Do you think I am blind? Stupid!"

The captain of the dreggal scouts stood trembling before Infestix, not daring to speak further.

"Well? Do you?"

"No — never. Most—"

Infestix shot forth his hand without warning, tapping the spidery dreggal on its spiky cranium with one gray, skeletal finger. The filthy-looking nail pierced the thing's head. The dreggal quivered, Its skin writhed as growths sprang forth from it, and then putrescence took it, and the former captain was an oozing pool of slimy decay at the daemon's feet. "I am not inclined to deal otherwise with incompetence," Infestix announced.

"It is fitting," agreed the group of Diseased Ones nearby.

"The Abat-dolor will not bend their necks to Us?" asked Infestix.

Brucilosu, currently the highest of the eight, didn't hesitate in responding to the query. "No, Master of Death, the fools resist for some reason. Why, I cannot guess, for they hate Graz'zt and— "

"It is because of some outside interference," Infestix snapped. The great daemon was pleased, despite the circumstances, for the chance to shame the highest of his lieutenants. Any one of them would supplant him in an instant if that were considered possible. Fair enough, then — he, Infestix, would see to it that each of them was cut down when any opportunity presented itself. This time it was Brucilosu's turn. "Some force of Balance is nearby, and that force bears with it a pair of trifling powers. This is what incited the black ones to resistance — and that will mean their immediate extinction, for I will bring Unbinder to bear upon them! Go now, all of you. Marshal the hordes for battle. We will roll over these little Abat-dolor. It must be done quickly. Do you hear? I want victory quickly!"

The eight daemons scurried off to see to the disposition of the four corps that comprised the horde which Infestix had brought to iyondagur. As soon as he had redressed things against Vuron, the Master of Hades could see that Graz'zt's toad would retreat to yet another defensive position. It would be like that for too long a time — series after series of attack battle, withdrawal to yet another defensive position. Eventually the stupid demons under Demogorgon would grind the albino's force to powder. But by then, Iuz and his assorted freaks would possibly have cracked the main lines defending Mezzafgraduun, overwhelmed Graz'zt, and stolen the Theorpart — which was rightfully the prize of Infestix.

In the moment he thought out that line of possibility, the lord of daemons had determined to commit everything he could muster with no further delay. Infestix gathered his strongest assistants, brought Initiator's energies into play, and opened first one channel, then another, to the planes of the netherworld beyond the Abyssal tiers.

Dumalduns, daemons, and cacodaemons by the tens of thousands were thus swept into his ranks. Dreggals, even maelvis, were suddenly teeming there on the somber plain from which Vuron had but recently retreated. Then Demogorgon, Mandrillagon, and their demonlords felt new confidence. With a million fresh soldiers to send into the fray, the stupid monsters went willingly away to batter against the thin lines of defense. Oh yes! The demon fighters and netherworld soldiers would attack and die by the tens of thousands despite their vast superiority in numbers.

Hie albino turd still held a Theorpart, Infestix knew, although the Eye of Deception was elsewhere — exactly where, he could not discern. That bothered him but a little, for the thing was inconsequential compared to Initiator or either of its matching parts. What counted was pressure and swiftness of action.

The bi-headed folly would press upon Vuron, push the pale slug back and back. Would Vuron then draw troops from Graz'zt? No, that was not likely. The result could only be a drain of the defenders under Vuron, a weakening so great that there would be but a corps or two left. As for Demogorgon? He and his baboon-faced brother would be leading mere squads soon. A hundred or two hundred thousand should suffice to form the anvil to Infestix's hammer. Infestix would break off a flying force, an army of no great size compared to the masses usual to warfare in the Abyss. It would be most potent, though. Hand-picked by himself Fast fearsome, and fueled by Infestix's own will and the force of the Theorpart. If the Abat-dolor were compliant and accepted his yoke, so much the better, for they would add more fodder to his horde. If not, a hundred thousand of the six-fingers would pose no obstacle to his march — not with the power of the relic's fraction in his hand.

Infestix knew that Vuron was fiddling with time in order to make good his flight. The ape-heads were too thick to understand the tactic, but not Infestix. In fact, he realized, two forces might benefit from the pastime, because Greater Mezzafgraduun's parts were interlinked with other places, especially iyondagur. So, with the force of two Theorparts working toward the mutability of the flow, chronology was altered to assist both the albino and Infestix.

Even as the wild throng thundered and broke upon defenses that Vuron had been able to prepare especially for Demogorgon's assault, so too did the master of daemons cross the intervening places to arrive in the heart of the lands of the Abat-dolor. With or without those demons, Infestix would then enter Mezzafgraduun prime, behind the thin shell of defense that Vuron attempted, behind the ring of resistance Graz'zt forged against Orcus and his minions, the dupes of Iuz and his lot. Before the weight of troops could be shifted, Vuron would be crushed between the hard place of Demogorgon and the rock of Infestix. Two Theorparts welded into one, and the demon armies were fatally compromised.

"King of Extinction ..." It was a fawning legate of the maelvis legions that comprised the center of the army. Infestix turned from his contemplation, nodding slightly. "The enemy are deploying before our advance — only a few divisions. Great Master, no more than a hundred thousand."

"As I expected. Attack them!"

"Ah ..." the centurion hesitated, then decided to huny to get it out. "There is a knot of foreign forces in the midst of the Abat-dolor host, my King. There is too a banner. ..."

"Out with it, clod! What are you saying?"

"I am informed by your Diseased Ones, Mighty Lord, that it is the standard of the ... Demiurge . . ?"

"What? Basiliv? So! That is the one who Balance has finally chosen!"

Infestix paused. That explained much. As the aural readings of neutrality shifted and flowed, it had become more and more difficult to discover exactly what the meddling nothings were up to, who was bearing their accumulated force. For a time it had seemed as if some little part-human, a former thief and too-frequent thorn-prick known as Gord, was to wear the mantle of champion. Then all sign of the Demiurge had vanished from the field. Could Basiliv have managed that? Perhaps. . . . But did that entity fit the prophecy? Could Basiliv be the one destined to oppose Tharizdun? Very doubtful, and thus so much the better for Evil! The wise ones" of Balance had blundered!

"Tell me, maelvi, what powers does the Demiurge bear with him?"

"That is beyond me, King of Extinction," the creature gulped, "but the Lord Brucilosu did say you must be told that the Demiurge displays four dweomers of the elements — auras which are potent."

Infestix sneered. He knew well enough the tokens of the energy of the elemental spheres. In their proper places, each might be considered the equal of Graz'zt's vaunted Eye of Deception, perhaps. Here, the four together would be hardly greater than the Eye, and the latter's strength was but a tithe of the Theorpart he wielded. "Start the assault now! Inform my commanders that I will personally advance and deal with the Demiurge once the Abat-dolor scum are pinned."