DIRE : HELL (The Dire Saga Book 6)

by Andrew Seiple

  “IF HE IS GONE FROM HERE TO HIS FINAL JUDGMENT, DIRE HAS NO REASON NOT TO SLAY YOU TO THE LAST,” I finally spoke.

  “Ah, but he has not reached that judgment, yet.” The robed pile of worms-in-human-shape spoke. “We have sent him through slow ways, hidden ways. We can send messengers to interrupt this process. If you cooperate with us, then pass on your way, we shall call him back and send him to you at a location of your choosing that is far from here.” He spread his arms, the picture of magnanimity. “But if you choose to destroy us, well, there shall be no one to call him back. And he shall stand before our lord and master and be unmade.”

  “Technically it’s within the rights of each lord of Hell to petition Lucifer to unmake a soul. In practice it’s rarely used. Still, what they’re saying falls in line with the Pax Infernum,” Epsilon told me.

  “So it’s possible, but impossible to prove or disprove what they’re saying.”

  “They are lying,” First Whisper insisted. “But there is something more, and I cannot tell what it is.”

  “How about The Cat?” I asked.

  “The Grimalkin insists they are too far away for him to taste their minds.”

  “Is that what he does?” I blinked.

  “I do not know. Grimalkin are lesser among us, and I do not understand why you tolerate this one beyond its amusement value.”

  I finally crossed my arms over my chest. “STATE YOUR CONDITIONS.”

  “Now they are vastly relieved!” First Whisper crowed.

  “Thank you, Counselor Troi,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Shush, they’re talking.”

  “So are you!”

  “Shush!”

  “Our conditions are simple. To the West lies the Sulfur Slough. There, Lady Eyeblight holds sway, and plots against our might. Go there, destroy her army, and bring us her head, and we shall release the imps to halt Roy Carver’s ultimate destruction.”

  I stood there, let the moment linger for a minute and a half, before I jerked my head in an overwrought nod. “FINE. JUST... FINE.” Without a word I turned and left. My ‘throne’ unfolded and Epsilon and Gamma came with me, as we left the city as silently as we’d come.

  Once back on Beaky, I returned to my command chair The Chorus reshuffled, resuming their old positions.

  “THE SULFUR SLOUGH. WASN’T THAT ONE OF THE NATIONS NEIGHBORING THE LORD OF SMOKE AND SINEW?”

  “It was,” Alpha confirmed. “Is, actually. They wouldn’t have been touched by our flood.”

  “WHICH MEANS...” I spun my theories, ran them through a few geopolitical filters, and talked the matter out with my little council. Once we had a game plan, I ordered the fleet west.

  It took two days to traverse the blasted plains below; seams of lava opened up like burst veins in the black ash. Chain-gangs full of Damned came into view, marching unendingly on hot rocks, chased by groups of four-legged, wolf-like demons. It served some purpose, I was sure, but I overruled Vector’s requests to stop and try to figure out what they were doing. Khalid’s breakdown was still writ large in my mind, and I didn’t want to expose him to any more trauma.

  Finally the seams of lava started turning yellow around the edges, and we spread out, looking for civilization. The map wasn’t always so precise on where cities were, sadly.

  As it turned out, civilization found us.

  On the third day, the sky darkened with a host of bats the size of fighter jets. Half of them were occupied, and the largest of them had a six-armed woman twice my height crouched on its back. The four arms that weren’t managing the reins held different weapons at the ready.

  I flew out to meet her, alone.

  They thought it a trap at first, circled around the Striges outside of cannon range, trying feints that went nowhere, attempting to draw our fire. Through it all I stood impassive, hands on my hips.

  Finally the multi-armed demon got fed up, and urged her bat in closer. At about three hundred yards she circled, calling to me in a voice like roaring flame.

  “You are the Dire?”

  “YES.”

  “Why do you make war upon my lands, mortal?”

  “ACTUALLY SHE’S NOT. SHE’S COME TO OFFER YOU A GIFT.” I pointed east. “HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO ALLY WITH DIRE AND CONQUER WROTH?”

  CHAPTER 11: OLD FRIENDS

  “The monk class is often underestimated. But at higher levels they can wreak peerless destruction upon single targets, especially if they are clever enough to strike from ambush.”

  --Excerpt from the first chapter of the first book of the Chronicles of the Shared Lie: Character Creation and Classes

  We struck Wroth like a hammer made of sin.

  There are people in life who will tell you that leading a demonic horde to overwhelm your opposition is an inherently evil act and to be avoided at all costs. There are also people in life who really need a wedgie. These two kinds of people are often one and the same.

  “IN CASE YOU HADN’T REALIZED, DIRE HAS DECIDED TO DECLINE YOUR OFFER,” I belted out to the city in general, hovering above the walls while my striges floated behind me, and the hordes of Lady Eyeblight’s infernal forces charged across the killing grounds around Wroth.

  For my trouble, I got cannonballs shot at my face and arrows rising from below. My forcefield took care of the first, and simple evasion negated the bulk of the arrows. I wouldn’t have bothered, really, but I didn’t want to chance that a few of them had brought enchanted ammunition.

  I refrained from attacking, keeping my arms folded and let my cape snap in the wind tauntingly. I had other fish to fry. Or rather, worms to check.

  “Anything from day two?” I voxed.

  “Nothing yet. I should be finished in twenty minutes,” Beta confirmed.

  “Dire’s done with day one. Gods, this is slow work.” It had taken me the better part of thirty minutes to sort through the audio cues. Even with everything neatly filed in the databases, this was still sorting through a half-million-strong city conversation by conversation, looking for sounds that approximated “Roy” or “Carver”. Didn’t help that in the infernal speech, there were about thirty common words that incorporated the “Roy” sound. Fortunately, Carver didn’t have that problem.

  Cross-indexing “Dire” didn’t help. Evidently I was a hot topic down there, at least for the duration that my bugs were listening. And of all the conversations I’d listened to, none of them were sinister plans. Evidently the Council of Worms were smart villains... they laid their plans early on, then shut up about them to prevent spies from listening in.

  I had to admit, it was refreshing to have intelligent foes for a change. They’d heard about me in the space of three weeks or so, realized the threat I represented, and initiated a plan to deal with me and eliminate one of their biggest threats at the same time.

  “I’ve got something,” Delta spoke up. “Day four, and it looks like... yes! Winner winner chicken dinner!”

  “Please use a different reference.” I winced as my stomach growled. “Vector’s soylent Strix with fungus sauce is getting very old.” I wiggled my fingers, inputting commands into the AR interface. “Send the snippet... now.”

  A lot of guttural noise, mostly, then a deep voice over the din; “The Carver wants the Tower of Misery prepared for his use. Bring him everything he asks for.”

  “Hm.” I looked through the days’ one and three logs. Nothing. I could give it a few more hours and finish the rest of them.

  I looked down at the shattered walls, where an early volley from Beaky had broken the fortifications. Queen Eyeblight’s horde was pouring through, into the city. We didn’t have a few more hours. “Welp, Tower of Misery it is,” I voxed.

  “Why would Roy want something prepared for his use?” Beta spoke.

  “Nothing springs to mind. Roy was best with a handgun. Something’s going on here. But if the horde gets too far into the city they might move him or shift away from the Tower of Misery, wherever that
is. Then we’re down a lead and a lot of legwork.”

  “Orders, boss?” Alpha spoke. I’d left him manning the bridge on Beaky, and Epsilon and Gamma on the other two Striges. My Damned were manning the guns and standing by to repel any potential borders. That took care of them...

  “Khalid, would you like to assist? You know what Roy looks like.”

  “I do. And I admit that I do have some vexation to loose upon these creatures.”

  “Just mind your limits is all she asks. Don’t do something you’ll have to repent later.”

  “Believe me, I already have. At this point, anything further is a teardrop in a storm. Go ahead, I shall join you shortly.”

  I took a few more minutes to run a quick search string against “Tower of Misery,” narrowed my target down to a seven block perimeter, and jetted that way, roaring over the heads of the armies fighting below.

  The cannons had stopped firing at me, at least. Most of them were concentrated in the towers that rose from the castle in the center of the city, big slabs of bronze that belched forth canister shot, shredding the brick buildings between them and their targets with wild abandon. They’d caused about as much damage as the invading army, and the cries of their wounded citizens rose to the sky along with the smoke from their cannon muzzles.

  Demon slaughtered demon in the streets, and I left them to it, arriving to my destination in short order. Three towers stuck out from the sprawling castle on this side of the city here, and I had no clue which one was which.

  Well, when in doubt, ask a local for direction.

  I burst through the roof of the nearest building, into what looked like a hive full of black wasps with human faces. They screamed in unison, and I roared back, using demonspeak;

  “WHERE IS THE TOWER OF MISERY?”

  They fled, and I flew after them, catching one by the thorax and not being gentle about it. A stinger punched at my gauntlets repeatedly, skidding off the armor, dripping sizzling venom.

  “TOWER OF MISERY! WHERE?”

  “Nnnnno! Plllleeeeeeezzzzz... I zzzzhowww you!”

  “GO THEN. DIRE CAN KILL YOU FROM A DISTANCE IF YOU TRY TREACHERY.” I let the wasp go. It flew out of the hole I made, with me following close behind.

  The thing flew directly toward one of the towers, got within about fifty feet of the walls, then promptly exploded.

  I blinked, then started scanning the damn thing. Unknown energies all up and down the tower, running in what looked like occult patterns. “Khalid?” I voxed. “Going to need your help, here.”

  “I am on my way. Not all of us can fly, you know.”

  “Remind her to build you a damn jetpack.” I hovered in midair, glaring around at the demons peering out at me from openings and windows in the surrounding buildings, until they decided to make themselves scarce. Sensible, really, the fighting was coming closer.

  And so was a robed councilor, strolling down the street right toward me. Darkness oozed out of its hood, and the lights inside it flickered with some agitation.

  It had come alone. That seemed worrisome. I flew lower, within hailing distance. “AS YOU CAN SEE, DIRE HAS DECIDED TO DECLINE YOUR GENEROUS OFFER. PITY ABOUT YOUR CITY, BUT YOU BROUGHT IT UPON YOURSELF WHEN YOU DECIDED TO LIE TO DIRE.”

  “Did you think we had not prepared for your treachery? The Carver told us you would not rest until you had found him.” This one had a female voice. A familiar female voice.

  Eidetic memory is a wonderful thing. But identifying this voice only raised more questions. “JUDY?”

  The demon flipped its hood back, letting darkness dissipate in the half-light of Hell.

  Her hair was a mess; her makeup was smeared and sweat-tracked, and her eyes were glazed, but those didn’t draw my attention beyond the first glance.

  No, I was a mite more concerned about the glowing, writhing worms that were sticking out of the bloody mass that was the right side of her face.

  “AH,” I said, charging my particle blasters.

  “Ah,” she agreed, lips spilling drool down her robe.

  And then she was on me, fists flashing with chi, and before I could react she’d punched me through the nearest building.

  I dug myself out of the rubble, noticed my forcefield’s charge was down by a whole three percent, and then she was on me again, arms flailing.

  This was a problem.

  Punching Judy, in life, had been a world-class martial artist with chi manipulation powers. She’d been a long-standing member of Queensguard who I’d clashed with numerous times in my last operation, before teaming up with them for the greater good of Britain and the world.

  At one point, Judy had been mentally dominated and gone pretty much apeshit on me, punching me so hard that my forcefield, continuously powered by nearly the full output of a fusion reactor, had started to fail and destabilize. Through the raw force of her power she’d nearly managed to out-punch the a nuclear reaction.

  And she was trying to duplicate the feat once more. Or rather, the worms who were burrowed into her brain were.

  I managed to get clear and scoot up into the sky, and she started parkouring up the side of the remaining intact wall and the building next to it, taking long, lazy leaps and bounding off of impossible angles.

  But something was off. I played for time, fired up my combat computer, and analyzed her movements against her past performance. Slow, slower by a factor of thirty percent on average.

  I twisted as she leaped at me and fired a stunning blast downward. She crossed her arms, dissipating it with a quick flourish, as she landed on a nearby roof. Then she leaped again, and I was forced to fly back... toward the tower.

  Shit.

  I twisted back, narrowly avoided her attempt to grab me and managed to stop from crossing the point where the wasp demon had died messily. For a second, Judy kept going. For a second, I thought she might get into the explodey zone.

  Only for a second. Punching Judy twisted in midair, grabbed waves of chi and hauled herself in a wide arc around the tower.

  But it confirmed one thing: she wasn’t immune to whatever effect was on the place.

  My microsecond of speculation cost me, as she slingshotted herself around the tower and with a flash of insight and a chatter of warning from my combat computer I realized that she was going to come right back at me.

  I killed power to the gravitics, dropped like the nine-hundred pound weight I was, and landed hard, shock absorbers groaning. She shot by overhead...

  ...and Khalid stepped out of an alleyway and caught her with a hurled vial.

  Orange dust billowed, and she faltered, paddled her feet wuxia-style until she ended up on a roof, then fell to her hands and knees, shaking her head. The glowing worms twitched and hung on for dear life.

  “WHAT WAS THAT?” I barked, not even sparing a second to vox. I reactivated the thrusters and maneuvered into position, covering her with my particle blasters.

  “A nausea-inducing agent. It meddles with the inner ear. Who is that, and why is she trying to kill you?”

  “PUNCHING JUDY. SHE—”

  Judy stood up, deflecting my first particle blast with a wave of her palm. “—SEEMS TO HAVE RECOVERED. OH SHIT, RUN!”

  She was on him in a heartbeat. But his blade flashed, parrying her strikes as fast as they came, Khalid’s feet shifting as he danced his very lethal dance.

  The best martial artist in the world, minus thirty percent, had run into a swordsman who had been around for over half a millennium.

  His blade had to have something on it. Probably sorcery or alchemy, or something of the sort. I didn’t register any weird energy from it, but it took glowing punches that would have left my own armor dented or broken.

  This was the Last Janissary, the unseen defender of humanity against the supernatural, and this was how he had lived for centuries... fighting the unnatural, with no banter, barter, or quarter.

  But... in a second, my combat computer told me what I could see.

  Kha
lid was losing.

  He had survived the initial flurry by going full defensive, and Judy wasn’t giving him any chance to regroup. Khalid couldn’t strike back without opening himself up, and one mistake was all Judy needed.

  I sighed. No way through without taking some hits. Khalid had a healing factor, a slow regeneration of sorts, but it took minutes to do its thing. I needed to get in there and help him, if we wanted a prayer of winning this.

  It took the work of a second to align myself, then I fell from the sky like a meteor. For my pains I got a foot to my face, but she couldn’t put her full force behind it, and Khalid scoured a shallow cut across her back. My mask still creaked in its frame, and I was really glad that my head wasn’t behind it. This close, my forcefield couldn’t soak up the hits. I’d have to take all of them on the armor.

  And I did.

  Three sharp punches to my midsection, ironically enough about where my head was located in the armor. I watched as my impact gel diffused it, then watched as my HUD lit up with yellow signs as the gel started to crystallize from the repeated impacts, crystallize and crack. I wasn’t sitting still while this was going on, but my sweeping attacks weren’t connecting. For all I’d learned how to brawl and fight dirty, this woman was in a league of her own.

  “Dire!” Khalid shouted. “The wards about the tower only affect demons!”

  He cut at her back, managed a strike that should have killed her, and Judy shifted around, grabbed his head in both hands, and twisted.

  I pushed myself harder than I ever had before, grabbed her by her hair, and pushed my gravitics to full power.

  We hurtled together into the tower...

  ...and bounced, falling in a heap at its base. My HUD flared red and yellow. I gathered myself to my knees, tried standing up, fell to my knees again, and stood, shaking.

  Beside me, Judy did the same.

  Her worms still writhed in the shredded meat over her skull. One of her arms flopped bonelessly, and she stared at it, then bashed herself against the tower until it popped back into joint. She tested it, ignoring the missing fingers. Blood oozed from her many wounds, but she didn’t seem to care.