Wherever the crystalline point sunk home a netherbeing expired, but it was not Demogorgon who braved the peril. Even as the albino came forth to do battle, the towering prince of the Abyss was communicating with his chief ally, Infestix, at last. "The moment is passing!" the demon telepathically snarled. "Why aren't you here?"
"Hold fast, brave and clever ruler of demonkind," came the sarcastic reply from Infestix. "I am but seconds away."
"Then the day is ours!" Demogorgon sent back "for I have lured Vuron and his guards into the heart of my own formation, and the stupid fish-belly bears the artifact as he comes."
The boast did not disturb the master of daemons. He was quite familiar with demon claims. It was obvious to Infestix that Vuron was pressing the battle and Demogorgon was losing the fight. That was why Infestix was coming. The lord of the pits had kept close track of the whole confrontation. He had no intention of allowing the dual-headed menace to bungle things and lose the Theorpart that was Infestix's own. Neither did the greatest of daemons intend to allow Demogorgon actually to gain a second portion of the relic of deepest Evil. At a word, the Theorpart the ape-headed being held would desert the demon and send itself to Infestix's hands. A careful harmonic had been built within it to assure that. The portion of the artifact also had within itself the frequency of its fellow Theorpart, the one wielded by the albino demon lord. If the latter was joined to the former, then Infestix could indeed call both portions to himself. The wily emperor of the netherspheres had planned well. He could not compensate for the general incompetence of demons, though. "I am here!" The daemon appeared in his avatar, Nerull, as he spoke; and he stood beside Demogorgon as he did so.
"What?" Demogorgon was startled. Such transferences were not possible in the Abyssal planes, especially when great artifacts of utmost evil power were radiating disruptive dweomers in opposition. Of course, Infestix had used the very powers at play to do so. "How . . . ?" the demonking began, then switched his tack "Where are your troops? We need force to wrest the thing from the slug's grasp!"
"Never fear, Demogorgon," Nerull-Infestix said casually, watching the dusins die horribly, one after another, as Vuron came ever closer with his deadly, ensorcelled spear. "Help for you is at hand."
"I see none, you . . ."
"Faithful and brave ally," Nerull's rasping, wormchoked voice supplied in place of the invective the demon was undoubtedly about to use. "It is about to come with a bang, so to speak. It will surprise the enemy as much as you. , . ."
The "bang" came a second later. Demogorgon, even forewarned as he was, gave an involuntary start as what sounded like a tremendous thunderclap broke directly overhead and sent rolling echoes along the whole length of the plain. As the sound reverberated in the sky, there appeared the eight Diseased Ones fully arrayed for battle, and with these fearsome daemons were the whole of the plagante, NerullInfestix's horrid elite soldiers. The entire force numbered but a few hundred, but each of the plagante was equal to a greater demon, at least a match for any raloog, for example. Furthermore, the force appeared in the space just behind the position where Demogorgon stood, the place threatened by Vuron's advance. Without need of direction, the Diseased Ones rushed toward the advancing demons, and behind them stormed the plagante. Demogorgon bellowed in triumphant glee at the sight, and not far distant Mandrillagon too picked up the hooting as he observed the sudden turn of events.
The appearance of the daemon elite nearly cost Vuron his existence. The Diseased Ones were upon him as hounds hariy a wolf. The albino managed to ply his long spear just in time. One of the rotting fiends was too slow, or careless, or overconfident The translucent facet of the tlp took the daemon squarely in the throat, and the ranks of Infestix's own had a sudden vacancy. Immediately thereafter, however, the albino demon lord was backing away as quickly as he could while still protecting himself from attack The raloogs clustered near and saved him.
"Very superior, Leda! Fine work!" Vuron of course referred to the dark elven priestess's employment of the power of the Eye of Deception. The rutterkin were now indeed flame-demons for all intents and purposes. The foes thought them thus, and the cringing Jackals themselves seemed to perform as if they were fearless raloogs. "Can you keep it up?"
"Yes," Leda replied mentally, assurance and confidence strongly contained in the thought. "A powerful energy flows through me, and I can wield the instrument as long as needed."
"Do so," Vuron sent back laconically. "The enemy presses me, and to either hand our forces thrust ahead against them. I must not only extricate myself but save Graz'zt's army from certain destruction. The roll of the wheel has placed us beneath its weight." The ability of the drow to continue to use the energy in and channeled by the demoniacal artifact would normally have caused the albino to be wary. Under current circumstances Vuron was merely satisfied that Leda could perform the task without breaking. The Eye of Deception drained those who employed it, unless they somehow garnered power from some outside source while utilizing the thing.
Graz'zt's ploy against his enemies recently was the most clever use of the Eye that Vuron could think of, and the albino was himself quite wise and clever. That he had not envisioned such a trick made Vuron more steadfast in his loyalty to the ebon prince of his kind. Such thoughts as those, rather than questioning the frail female's prowess in so long being able to handle the object, filled that portion of Vuron's mind not occupied with matters at hand.
Attuning the Theorpart to serve as nothing more than a Jamming device and counterpower to that of Demogorgon's, the thin demon lord pried the lance he held to keep the press of the daemons from him. The milky crystal of the spear was filled with deadly energy, for the weapon was one of the sixty-six arms of power belonging to the Abyss. Within the plane's manifold spheres, the lance was potent enough to slay mighty foes with a single thrust. Even beyond, in other netherplanes or elsewhere, Vuron's long spear was a fell force, but in the Abyss itself, wielded by the one it was forged by and for, the thing was of utmost potency. Plagante fell one after another to its leafbladed point as the albino retreated toward his own position step by careful step. The remaining seven of the Diseased Ones were careful to avoid facing Vuron. That enabled him to make good his withdrawal.
The daemon elite did its best to prevent Vuron's escape, trying desperately to encircle him before the albino reached the safety of his lines. It was a close thing, but by dint of his own fighting ability and the work of Leda with the Eye, Vuron managed to slip between the threatening pincers of plagante and into the safety of the files between his defending ranks of demon soldiers.
Vastyi was driving deeply into the horde of Mandrillagon on the left, while Zabulon, a high rakshasa given charge of the right center, was likewise slicing deeply into the mixed force of demons, dreggals, and hordlings opposing his troops there. Immediately upon seeing that Vuron had escaped, Infestix must have brought Demogorgon's attention to the now vulnerable salients to either hand. It was all the albino could manage to effectuate his own retreat The ones on the flanks of his advance paid heavily as the infuriated daemons fell upon them.
So too the make-believe raloogs. Although they seemed to be flame-beings, and their attacks were as effective as those of real sort, the rutterkin were neither as staunch nor sturdy as true raloogs. The attacks of plagante and others cut them down to the last even as Vuron attained safety. Only the one leading the false raloogs, Guicar, survived. He was sorely wounded and near to expiring at that.