There was no darkness on the near-infinite reaches of the stratum, but some time later the dull orange sky was suddenly shot through with sheets of bilious green. Sacrifice to Ojukalazogadit had indeed been made in copious form, and as the monster that was itself a layer of the chaotic netherworld chomped and crunched and surfeited itself on blood and ichor and flesh not of its own creation, it raised up folds and sunk chasms. The surface of Ojukalazogadit rippled. Pulses boomed, and Demogorgon exulted. "The dirty lump styling himself emperor of the Abyss has been halted in his flight! We now march to render Graz'zt and all his curs their death blow!"

To an ear-splitting cacophony of iron horns and vast kettledrums covered with human skin or dragon hide, to the bonging and whanging of gongs and cylindrical bells, to screeching fifes and other instruments of all sorts, while millions of demons raged and roared, the corps and divisions of Demogorgon's horde marched. Soon the stronger began to outpace the weaker as the advance became a race to see who could fall upon the enemy first. Streaming across the vile landscape inexorably, a tidal wave of demonkind rushed upon a huddled array of their fellows not half as numerous.

* * *

They come, my liege."

This was more a confirmation of some long-expected and delayed event finally occurring than anything said in fear or as a warning. The speaker was Eclavdra the High Priestess, known to some as Leda, a dark-elf counselor of standing and power equal to any of the demon lords who swore fealty to Graz'zt, save possibly the alabaster-skinned Vuron. "All is in readiness."

"Kostchtchie?" asked Graz'zt, turning to the ugliest and perhaps most ruthless of his lieutenants.

"My horde stands ready!"

"Baphomet?"

To kill!" the bull-headed demon prince bellowed, raising a massive axelike weapon.

"Your demon giants and scum, Kostchtchie, will march very slowly forward. Delay as long as possible the melee with Zuggtmoy's horde. You, dear Baphomet, must fling your ravening demoters and the rest quickly forward so that you strike the enemy on the left under Var-Az-Hloo before the freak and his corps are in range of our own main body. Understood?"

Neither of the great demons understood the strategy involved, but both said they knew exactly what was expected of them. "Go then, and may you savor the death of each enemy slain!" Graz'zt roared.

Dark and dour Nergal remained standing with Graz'zt, both demons bulking huge beside the small and delicate drow, Leda. "I will watch the horn-head Baphomet," she said to Graz'zt softly. "Even though you promised him ascendancy over Yeenoghu should he triumph this day, I trust not his loyalty to you, liege." That brought a dry rasp of a chuckle from the stony depths of the demon-man Nergal, who had been through his own quarrels with the ebony Graz'zt before the latter had acquired the Theorpart he now controlled.

"Yes, little one, and think you not that the weird Demogorgon frets not about the blubber-gutted sheep-face with whom he has made common cause? Time enough to even old scores afterward, say I...."

It was a most unexpected combination, that of Orcus and Demogorgon, but as with Yeenoghu and Baphomet, the foes fought for the same side on different fronts. Perhaps it would suffice. Leda understood full well the principle of biding time to wait for revenge or anything else sought for. "Nevertheless, with your permission, emperor," she said, "I will take my station on the right."

"Take Palvlag and the conflagranti," Graz'zt assented, pointing toward the half-hundred great demons of flame who were his personal guard. "For what is coming I have no need for them. Their presence will be sure to soothe any ill will Baphomet harbors." Again Nergal chuckled. The terrible fire fiends were sufficient to give any, even the greatest of great demons, pause.

Leda made no protest. Turning quickly, with but the slightest of bows, the drow priestess hurried off to inform Palvlag and gather the force to speed off to where the bull-headed Baphomet's corps was already forming for its advance. "Victory, Emperor Graz'zt!" she cried as she departed.

"There is one whose aura is wrong," Nergal said squarely to the six-fingered demon king. "How is it that you allow such a one to exist?"

"She serves faithfully in all ways and counsels wisely... for a nondemon," Graz'zt said with a little wave that dismissed any further discussion. He would not admit to any that he simply found it expedient to maintain her because that was what Vuron wished, and the albino was his most trusted henchman. Making a face at the unconscious use of a human term, the would-be master of the Abyss said as an afterthought, "Besides, all of my nobles must soon become used to dealing with such as the dark elf. As our realm expands, more and more such servants will be needed."

Nergal nodded but disagreed in his heart. Any territory under his heel would be depopulated quickly, save for those undead and demons whom he placed there. "Most sagacious, majesty. Ann... Shall I now lead forth the main battle to confront the center of the enemy?"

"No, I shall do that myself when the time is ripe. Go and find Ogrijek and have him bring all of his remaining zubassu and voord too — those should total ten thousand or so. They will be assigned the place of honor before us."

"Honor? Before us? I don't under—"

Graz'zt cut the rest off. "What you understand, Prince Nergal, is of no matter to me. Simply fetch them!" As Nergal started to go off, the ebony demon king added. "And, Prince of Unlife, don't forget to have several of your toughest enforcers with you, for it is quite likely that Ogrijek and his lot are in league with our foes!"

Nergal spun and stared, then bared his fanged mouth in a hideous smile. He whistled and clapped. Shadows gathered around and coalesced into massive demons. Soon Nergal and a growing throng of his own were shoving their way toward the place where the lord of zubassu was resting. Ogrijek would not like serving in the forefront, mused Graz'zt... especially when he found that neither he nor any of his kind could take wing any longer.

Not caring now about what was revealed to the enemy by his action. Graz'zt spoke a series of chest jarring words and shot upward. He mushroomed skyward as a pillar of smoke, growing less and less substantial as his height increased. At three hundred feet he was satisfied. Now he could see all that was needed. Ojukalazogadit had obligingly mounded up a ridge beneath Graz'zt, so that now the demon king was able to view the entire front of his force and the wildly surging line of the charging enemy.

Part of what Graz'zt saw was disconcerting to him. Ojukalazogadit was hungry at all times, and Demogorgon's side wasn't the only one being weakened by the gobbling undulations of the plane. But the enemy force was being weakened to a much greater degree than his own by Ojukalazogadit, almost as though the place itself was showing partiality in the struggle. Graz'zt saw that although his array had been sufficient to prevent the enemy from badly overlapping his flanks, the density of the opposing onrushing mass was about five or six times the depth of his own. He had the most powerful warriors in the conflict, by and large. But Demogorgon and his ass-kissing toadies had a great advantage in numbers. Were they two million? Three? No matter. Whatever the count. Graz'zt could see clearly that less than a million were in the horde confronting their howling onslaught.

There were the zubassu and carrion-eating voord, under the command of Ogrijek, thrust into the very first rank of the center. Demogorgon and Mandrillagon themselves would come here, and Graz'zt saw that their center had fully a million in its mass — ten to one against his force! But Graz'zt's minions, led by the forced labor of the zubassu, were stronger and more powerful than the bulk of their opposition. The zubassu were cowardly and traitorous by nature, but Graz'zt had seen to it that they would not have a chance to flee....