Demon Lord VII - Dark Domain

by Southwell, T C

  She cast Sarjan a smile, her beauty making his heart skip a beat. “It pleases me that you did not harm my brother. What is your name and title?”

  “Commander Sarjan... My Lady.”

  “You have some manners too, how nice.” Her gazed flicked to Nikira. “As yet, Nikira is the only one of my people who believes in me, and now she must flee to another domain, lest they slay her. Is that not sad?”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  Sherinias rose and approached him, her gown dazzling in the bright light. “You have seen much, and my brother saved you. If you believe in me, I shall reward you.”

  “I... What do you mean?”

  “I am your goddess, Sarjan. Believe that, and you will be saved, and spared.” She raised her chin, her eyes glowing like sapphires. “Pray to me, and I shall grant your wishes. Have faith in me, and I shall bless you with happiness. Spread the word of your beliefs, and I shall spare those who follow your guidance.”

  “Spare them from what?”

  “My people scorn me. They do not believe in me, and they have fallen into evil ways. Those who do not walk in the light will be at the mercy of the darkness. They will suffer and die, for I cannot save them. They have been without guidance for too long. The world gate has stood open all these centuries, and my people have been reborn tainted.”

  “Then it’s not their fault.”

  “No, it is not, but in order for my rule to be restored, they must be cleansed. My domain is rife with demons, and soon it will be filled with tainted spirits, for I shall cast out those that now dwell in the White City. They do not belong there. I shall appear to my people and inform them of my birth, but the only way to redeem those who refuse to believe in me is for them to die.”

  Sarjan stepped back, chilled. “I... I must see to my ship.”

  “Consider it. I offer you a singular opportunity to redeem yourself. Take it.”

  “I’ll... think about it.”

  Sarjan left the shredder room, his mind whirling. There were too many questions and no answers when it came to these strange beings. His people had once had religion, but it had been outlawed centuries ago, due to the infighting that had gone on between the various sects. The original church had worshipped a creator called Pretarin, but now almost everyone in Bayona was an atheist, except for a few small, rabid cults that clung to the old ways, and they kept a low profile. From what he had recently learnt, he surmised that the root of the problem had probably been dra’voren leading people astray. By the time the technology that detected fiends and dra’voren had been invented, religion had been all but forgotten.

  On the bridge, the officers gazed at the main screen with patent disbelief. A faint blue haze partially obscured the view of the warships that strafed Miraculous with light guns, to no effect.

  “Report,” Sarjan ordered.

  The nearest officer glanced at him. “It’s amazing, sir. They’ve been attacking us for half an hour, and it hasn’t even set off the alarms.”

  “They’ve fired missiles twice,” another officer added, “and they had absolutely no effect. They exploded, but we felt nothing.”

  “It’s like there’s a shield around us,” the pilot remarked.

  “What about the fires and the generator?” Sarjan asked.

  “All the fires are out, and the engineers estimate two hours on the generator repairs. All the survivors have been rescued.”

  “Good.” Sarjan gazed at the screen. “It seems we have powerful guests.”

  “Who are they, sir?”

  “A better question would be: what are they? But I’m not sure about that. If you believe what they say, they’re gods.”

  The navigation officer snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “What do you think, Commander?” the pilot enquired.

  Sarjan shook his head. “I don’t know. Dra’voren can’t heal, yet the one called Drevarin did just that. If Commander Nikira’s right, he’s a creator, and so is the invisible one.”

  “Why would a creator help a dra’voren?”

  “He wouldn’t, which can only mean the Demon Lord isn’t one.”

  “Let’s not jump to too many hasty conclusions, sir.”

  “What other conclusion could there possibly be?”

  “Retribution collected a lot of data,” the pilot said, “even a vidimage of a supposed fight between two dra’voren, yet no one believes it.”

  “They don’t want to believe it, because if they do, they’ll have to accept that a dra’voren can be good, which is hard to swallow. They’ll also have to accept that there are three creators with him, helping him, when no one’s ever seen a creator. They’re the stuff of legends.”

  Chapter Seven

  Recovery

  Drevarin looked around as a hand clasped his shoulder. Kayos sat beside him on the cloud couch he had created for himself and Sherinias. The Grey God smiled, and his eyes flicked to Bane, who lay on another couch in the centre of the room. Ethra and Sarrin sat on the floor next to it; Mirra was beside him, holding his hand, while the men and Nikira sat with their backs against the wall. They had left the room only for calls of nature during the past nine hours, and Nikira had fetched strange food for all of them. From the startled glances they cast in his direction, Drevarin deduced that he had just vanished, joining Kayos within his light shield.

  “You healed him,” Kayos said. “Once more I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  “It was my privilege,” Drevarin replied.

  Sherinias smiled at Kayos. “Father!”

  “Daughter, your presence gladdens my heart.”

  “Mine sings with joy at your awakening, Father.”

  “What has happened while I slept?” Kayos asked. Drevarin told him, and at the end of the account the Grey God nodded and said, “You did well.”

  “What happened to Bane? Surely this was not Tolrar’s doing?”

  “No indeed, Tolrar was no match for him.” Kayos related his side of the story while Drevarin and Sherinias listened raptly.

  Drevarin said, “That was the greatest heroism, to touch a beast god and bring him here.”

  “I had no choice. He was going to kill my son.”

  “A momentous victory, My Lord.”

  “It would have been a horrendous disaster, if not for these ingenious people and their machines.”

  Bane groaned and frowned.

  “He wakes,” Kayos said. “Tell everyone to move away from him, Drevarin. His last memory is of a beast god’s jaws closing upon him.”

  The Grey God withdrew his light shield, allowing Sherinias and Drevarin to become visible again, and Drevarin said, “Mirra, Sarrin, come away.”

  Mirra shot him a confused look. “Why?”

  “You will find out soon enough.”

  Mirra joined the group in the corner, Sarrin and Ethra following. Bane’s eyelids fluttered and his neck muscles tensed, turning his head from side to side. He drew in a great gasp, then his eyes flicked open and his head jerked up. A wall of force hurled Drevarin against the wall, banging his head on it. Sherinias hit it beside him with a yelp, and the people were thrust against the bulkhead with grunts of surprise. Bane sat up and raised his hands, scanning the room. The shredder room window misted as Kayos became visible. Mirra inclined her head to him, and the rest of the group bowed.

  Bane grimaced and rubbed his face. “Sorry.”

  Kayos smiled. “I was expecting it.”

  “How did I get here?”

  While Kayos explained, Bane examined his torn, blood-soaked shirt, pulling it open to reveal the faint new scars on his belly. Mirra sat beside him and took his hand, and he clasped it, raising it to his lips with a smile. He said to Drevarin, “You have my gratitude, again.”

  The young light god waved it away, a trifle embarrassed.

  Bane inclined his head to Kayos. “And you, Father.” Bane plucked at his ruined shirt. “I seem to be in need of a bath. Water will make a pleasant change from blood.”

  The
Demon Lord rose, swaying a little, and Kayos vanished again as Drevarin stepped forward to offer his support. Bane grasped his shoulder, leaning on him as he walked to the door, which opened to reveal Sarjan talking to two contechs. He turned when they emerged, raking Bane with a disbelieving and somewhat suspicious glance.

  “The Demon Lord requires a bath,” Drevarin announced.

  Bane’s brows rose. “Could you sound a little more pompous, Drevarin?”

  “I could try.”

  “Do not.”

  Sarjan glanced from one to the other. “We... we don’t have baths; we have auto-washers.”

  “Then I need a private room,” Bane said.

  Sarjan nodded and led them along two corridors and down a short flight of steps to a door that opened when he touched the panel beside it. “This is one of my crewmen’s quarters. He’s dead.”

  Bane released Drevarin and took Mirra’s hand. As the door closed behind them, Sarjan turned to Drevarin and asked, “Is he all right?”

  “He is weak, a result of blood loss. Kayos and I could restore his strength, but, since there is no longer any threat, he will probably prefer to regain it by himself.” He cocked his head. “You are concerned about his health?”

  “Well... I’m starting to think Nikira might be right.”

  “Have you considered Sherinias’ offer?”

  Sarjan nodded. “But if I do as she asks, I’ll be ridiculed, even ostracised. They’ll call me a nut, and probably throw me in jail, or worse, I’ll become a target for fanatics. I could be killed.”

  “She would protect you. As her emissary, you would be untouchable. You would have power.”

  “How?”

  Drevarin smiled. “She controls the Oracle, which controls the domain. If someone tries to kill you, all you need do is pray to her and he will be struck dead.”

  “A man with a light gun could pick me off without my ever knowing about it.”

  “One command from Sherinias to the Oracle, and you would have an air shield that will stop projectiles and bend light. If you chose to be her messenger, and sent her words to the people, you would gain much status in her eyes. She needs someone to be her mouthpiece. She will not be able to descend amongst her people for two hundred years.”

  “Why not?” Sarjan asked.

  “She is a child. She does not have the power.”

  “But she has the power to protect me?”

  “Yes.”

  The commander looked puzzled. “But she said -”

  “She would appear to the people, yes; with our help. But we will be leaving soon, and then she will be alone, with you as her helper.”

  “All of you?”

  “Yes. I must return to my domain, although I shall visit. Kayos and Bane are on a journey, which they must continue. So you see, you would be very important to her, and her rewards would be great. She might even grant you an extended lifespan.”

  “What about Nikira?” Sarjan asked. “She believes in all of you.”

  “Nikira has chosen to worship Bane.”

  “I see.” He hesitated. “It’s a tall order to expect people to believe that any of you are gods.”

  “Because we look like you?”

  “Yes. Creators are made from light, not flesh and blood.”

  Drevarin nodded. “Actually, we are not made from it, but we do contain it. All legends tend to exaggerate the most unusual aspects of their subjects. We are not the same as you, but you were made in our image, so you are similar. There are as many kinds of gods as there are beings, some of whom spring from them, others who create them.”

  “So you’re saying that gods are pretty much like us, but they have powers?”

  “No. You might say that of Bane, but even he is vastly superior to you. Our flesh is nothing like yours. We are not made from the same stuff, but we possess a similar blueprint.”

  “Would you… allow us to examine you?”

  Drevarin laughed. “I think not.”

  “It would go a long way to convincing a lot of people of what you are.”

  “You and your examinations. You wish to study everything and demystify it, do you not?”

  “It’s how we’ve come as far as we have,” Sarjan said.

  “You are indeed clever, and a credit to your creator. But my blood cannot exist outside my body, and my flesh cannot be cut from me. Your machines cannot see within me, and I cannot change that.”

  “Could you... tell us what you’re made from?”

  “You would not understand.” Drevarin set off along the corridor.

  Sarjan fell into step beside him. “Where’s the invisible man?”

  “Around.”

  “He’s like you, too?”

  “You could say that.”

  Sarjan pondered for a moment. “You know, it’s going to be hard to convince people that there are gods. Religion was outlawed centuries ago, because it caused so much trouble. People chose to worship different gods, and fought each other, trying to make their god supreme, I guess.”

  “And has your world improved since then?”

  The commander pulled a face. “For a while it did, but then people started fighting over other things, like land and resources.”

  Drevarin stopped. “You say you do not believe in gods, but you have legends about creators. What do your legends say creators are?”

  “Highly evolved beings who created the world.”

  “Ah. Interesting.” Drevarin continued down the corridor. “I suppose it does not matter what you call us, as long as you believe we are real. Sherinias, of course, will expect you to have faith in her, as is her right. You could look at it as showing respect to a highly evolved being capable of creating a world.”

  “Could she?”

  “Not as yet, but when she is old enough she will have the power, yes.”

  In the dead crewman’s drab grey quarters, Bane turned to Mirra as the door shut and drew her into his arms. She clung to him for several minutes, then raised her head to smile up at him. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you more.” He led her over to the grey-striped brown sofa and sat on it with a sigh, drawing her down beside him. A low table stood in front of it and a bed occupied a corner at the back of the room, beside a door that led into a tiny bathroom.

  “How badly were you hurt this time?” she asked.

  “I am still here.”

  “How many more times must you risk your life?”

  He brushed a lock of hair from her brow. “What would you have me do?”

  “I long to go home, with all my heart.”

  “Then we will go.”

  “But Ashynaria... You still have to save her.”

  “I warned you that this would be a dangerous venture,” he said, “and it has proven worse than I feared. The ways of gods are brutal. I, too, wish for nothing more than to return to our peaceful life.”

  “Do you know how long we have been travelling now?”

  “I have lost track of time.”

  “As have I, but it seems like an eternity.”

  “Yes.” He stroked her hair. “There have been too many side tracks, too many goddesses to save and dark gods to vanquish. There seems no end to it, and then there is still the return trip. When Kayos said it would take a year, I do not think he realised that there would be so many delays.”

  “No. For him there were none, because he could not save anyone, and had only to keep himself safe. But for you, there will be many, it seems. At least this battle is over.”

  “I have only to close the dark realm’s gate and create wards to seal Tolrar and his cronies below, and we can leave.”

  “First you must rest.”

  Bane nodded and glanced down at his blood-stained shirt. “And bathe.” He hesitated. “I must ask you to do something for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “We have many dangers still to face, I am certain. Should there come a time when your identity may place you in danger, do not reveal it. I
will do all the lying necessary, and Grem and Mithran will, too. I will speak to them. Just keep silent, is all I ask. You know I will not allow harm to come to you, but if I fall you will be alone until I can return…”

  She placed her fingers on his lips. “Hush. I am not afraid to die. I will be reborn. All you will have to do is wait.”

  He took her hand and kissed it. “You will not remember me. No, I will not allow it.”

  “You are far more important than me. You will not be reborn, so you must not die.”

  “Then you must do as I ask.”

  “I will,” she said. “But if you cannot save me without sacrificing yourself, do not. I will return to you in a new incarnation and fall in love with you again. Eighteen years, even twenty, is nothing to you.”

  “Untrue. The two years I waited to wed you were an eternity.”

  “Yet you made me wait, and it was even more of an eternity for me.”

  He smiled, playing with a lock of her hair. “You were a child.”

  “I was seventeen!”

  “A child.”

  “We could have spent those two years together, but instead, after only a few months we are parted for much of the time, and even when we are not, you have your power, and...”

  “And?”

  She shook her head. “It does not matter.”

  “Of course it matters. Tell me.”

  “We cannot be together.”

  “Ah. We will, I promise,” he said. “I will save no more light gods except Ashynaria. No more detours; no more delays. We will be home within a year.”

  “No. You cannot allow light gods to suffer and die, and all their people, if you can save them.”

  “Light gods will always suffer and die. They do so right now, all over the accursed God Realm. In many domains, they are enslaved and slaughtered. I cannot save them all.”

  “But you must save those you can,” she said.

  “You cannot have it both ways. Either you want us to return home, or you want me to save light gods. Which is it?”

  “I want you to save those we encounter on our way to Ashynaria, and return home as quickly as we can.”