Demon Lord VI - Son of Chaos

by T C Southwell

  Satisfied that the door would not easily be opened, he stepped back into the Channel and sought the poisoner, who had left the room outside shortly before. He found the man striding along a bright corridor and left the Channel to follow him. The poisoner soon turned into a spacious room and went over to a shiny glass cupboard.

  Tryne surveyed its contents, frowning at the assortment of poisons in it. The poisoner took a vial from it and swung around, almost bumping into Tryne, who stepped hastily aside. He waited for the poisoner to leave, then glanced at the other people in the room, who were all bent over strange equipment. They seemed engrossed in their work, and Tryne considered the glass cupboard again, a delightful plan presenting itself.

  Finding a Channel that shared space with the inside of the cupboard, he stepped into it, reaching through the Channel wall to pluck the foul vials from the shelves. When the shelves were almost bare and his arms were full, he walked along the Channel until he found one that existed outside the ship, and stepped across. Dumping his burden on the sandy ground, he returned to the metal room to guard his charge.

  ***

  Nikira frowned at the vidscreen that showed the inside of the shredder room door, where the dagger that had been rigged over the dra’voren’s heart was now wedged between the door and the frame, jamming it.

  “How the hell did that get there, Enyo?”

  The senior contech shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine, Commander. The dra’voren’s still unconscious. We couldn’t figure out why the door wouldn’t open until I turned the camera and we saw that. I’ve sent for engineers. They should be here at any moment.”

  “So there is something in there,” Jonar muttered.

  Nikira nodded. “Looks like it. And whatever it is, it’s protecting the dra’voren, but it’s not using the dark power.”

  “A creature of the light wouldn’t protect a dra’voren,” Enyo stated.

  “Unless he’s not a dra’voren.”

  Enyo snorted. “We know he is.”

  “Then it can’t be a creature of the light.”

  The engineers arrived with a heavy duty light gun and set to work on the door. Nikira glanced at Jonar. “Why were you going in there?”

  He held up a syringe. “Another dose of poison.”

  “Try to hold onto that one.”

  Jonar nodded, grim faced, and they waited while the engineers set up the light gun. Half an hour later, a sizeable hole had been burnt in the doorframe and the dagger inside fell away. Enyo activated the door, which slid open with a screech. The engineers removed the light gun, and Jonar approached the door with obvious reluctance, glancing around as he stepped through it.

  The guards followed, their weapons ready. The medtech went over to the table, the syringe gripped tightly, his eyes darting around. He lifted the syringe, but, as he was about to push the needle into the dra’voren’s arm, something yanked it from his grasp. Jonar yelled and sprinted for the door, the guards reaching it first this time and leaping through it. The door slid shut, and Enyo activated the stunner.

  Nikira peered through the observation window, frowning. “Whatever it is, it’s either extremely fast, or the stunner doesn’t affect it.”

  “Either way, it’s bad news for us,” Enyo said.

  Jonar sat down on a chair. “How many times do you expect me to do that, Commander?”

  “As many times as it takes to either get the poison into him or stun whatever’s taking it from you.”

  “Why don’t we just kill him some other way?”

  “What makes you think whatever’s protecting him won’t still stop us?”

  Jonar shook his head. “Send in a bunch of guards and fill him with bullets. Do you think they could be stopped?”

  “Perhaps. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, do we? Let’s try it again, only this time we’ll use the stunner as soon as it grabs the syringe.”

  “Oh, great, and I get a filthy headache.”

  Nikira shrugged. “A small price to pay.”

  The medtech grunted and left to fetch another dose of toxin, and she turned to gaze at the dra’voren. The repeated concussions had caused more blood to ooze from his nose, and a puddle congealed on the table. A few more and he would die anyway, she thought, angered by the wave of sorrow that washed over her.

  ***

  Drevarin stopped atop a rocky hillock and surveyed the vast, glittering city that spread across the plain below, protected by its massive blue fire dome. His old trail continued into the domain, which he had explored on a previous excursion, when he had discovered the presence of the unborn god who kept the domain alive. Tryne had said that the tar’merin was close to the domain, so he was not in it. He turned to stare into the darkness beyond the black river, his eyes narrowing.

  “Tryne.”

  After a moment, the angel stepped out of the air beside him. “Lord Drevarin. We must make haste; they are trying to kill him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In a strange vessel that floats through the air, just an hour’s travel across the black river, if you fly. It is invisible, a cloak formed with the blue power. When you arrive, I will guide you to it.”

  Drevarin nodded. “Go back and protect him. I will be there soon.”

  Tryne stepped back into the Channel, and Drevarin became airborne and flew into the darkness beyond the black river.

  ***

  “What the hell do you mean, it’s all gone?” Nikira demanded, glaring at the hapless Jonar, who shook his head.

  “It’s gone, Commander. Even the anaesthetic and tranquilisers, and the cabinet’s still locked. All that’s left is medicine, and the medtechs who’ve been working in there the whole time saw nothing.”

  She clasped her throbbing head, wishing she had some painkillers for it. “This must be the work of the dra’voren’s protector.”

  “I would say so, yes.”

  “Then we’ll just have to find another way to kill him.”

  He nodded. “I’ve ordered poison gas to be pumped into the room. We’ll have to suck it out with scrubber units afterwards.”

  “Good.” Nikira glanced through the window at the dra’voren, her heart leaden. “Let’s see if this protector of his can snatch a cylinder as it did the syringes.”

  “The only problem is, the cylinder will be outside, so we won’t be able to stun it.”

  “And we won’t be able to shoot it, since it’s invisible.” She sighed. “Our main objective then is to kill the dra’voren.”

  Jonar glanced around as two medtechs came in carrying a cylinder of toxic gas. They put it down beside the door and rigged a rubber hose through the hole the engineers had burnt earlier, sealing it in place with a quick drying plastic sealant. The cylinder vanished.

  Nikira gaped at the spot where it had been, stunned. “Bloody hell!”

  Jonar cursed, and the medtechs looked around with wide eyes.

  “Get that hose out of the door and open it,” Nikira said. “We’ll have to shoot him.”

  The medtechs pulled the hose out, and Enyo activated the door, which slid open with a wail of tortured metal that made Nikira grit her teeth. The two guards unslung their weapons and stepped into the room, and Nikira’s throat closed as they stopped beside the dra’voren. Every particle of her being wanted to let him live. He was a helpless captive, why did he have to die? Yet he must, a small, cold, duty-bound part of her insisted, and by her order.

  Nikira averted her eyes, unable to watch the bullets tear the dra’voren’s chest to bloody shreds. A light from the containment room door caught her attention. She looked around and gasped. A glowing winged figure stood just inside the doorway. The guards spotted it and charged from the shredder room, opening fire as they leapt through the doorway, and everyone dived behind the consoles as bullets whined around the room. The winged being turned and ran out into the corridor, the soldiers racing after it. Nikira left the shredder room as Enyo stood up.

  “Was that what yo
u saw before?”

  The senior contech nodded, his face pale and his eyes wide. “That’s it.”

  “What the hell is it?”

  “No idea. I searched the database for something matching its description, but found nothing.”

  Nikira rubbed her brow, found that she was shaking and sat on the nearest chair. “At least we can kill it now that it’s become visible. It’s certainly determined to save the dra’voren. Despatch more men to search the ship, arm them with light guns.”

  “And the dra’voren?”

  “I want to kill that thing first, then we can worry about him. If we kill him now it’ll leave, but he’s not going anywhere.”

  “Commander, that thing is just going to become invisible again to elude the men. It’ll be like chasing a damned ghost.”

  Nikira frowned. “Yes, but we know it will always come to protect the dra’voren, and become visible to distract us. Get some more guards in here.”

  Tryne stepped out of a Channel ahead of the men, who had slowed when they lost sight of him. They shouted and raised their weapons, spraying the corridor with metal projectiles, and he leapt back into the Channel in the nick of time. Passing through the wall next to him, he entered a room filled with smoothly moulded tables and chairs, where dozens of people sat eating. Soft light shone through colourful hangings that draped the walls between bright paintings. Tryne stepped out of the Channel and raised his wings, assuming a benevolent pose. The diners leapt up with a crash of falling crockery and overturned chairs. Some yelled and ran for the doors; others pulled weapons from their belts and fired blue light at him.

  Tryne re-entered the Channel and moved along it, passing through several walls and rooms that served obscure functions. One was a kitchen, where cooks prepared hot meals in strange, humming devices that required no fire. Tryne stepped forth again, got the expected reaction and vanished once more, chuckling. Deciding that it was time to check on the tar’merin, he found a Channel near the metal room and stepped across. To his dismay, four more of the black-suited, weapon-toting men stood outside it, ready to enter it and kill the mortal god.

  Tryne stepped from the Channel, and the men swung around, spraying the area where he stood with metal projectiles. Tryne slipped out of the door, avoiding all but one of the bullets, which hit him in the leg. The men charged after him as he sprinted down the corridor, his injured leg protesting. He would have taken to the air, but the corridor was too narrow for his wingspan. Once more he took them on a wild chase through the ship, leading them on with tempting appearances before vanishing again. If not for his injury and the possibility of others, it might have been fun.

  Sensing Drevarin approaching outside, Tryne found a Channel close to him and stepped out.

  “Lord Drevarin.”

  “Tryne. It is near here, this ship?”

  “You are almost standing under it.”

  “Ingenious.” Drevarin gazed upwards. “I cannot sense it at all.”

  “If you fly upwards, you will pass into it. Make haste, they increase their efforts to kill him. Once you are inside, rise through five floors, and you will arrive on the one where he is held. From there I shall guide you.”

  Drevarin nodded and ascended, murmuring the word that would prepare him to pass through solid objects. The thick metal hull slowed him, then he rose swiftly through thin floors, counting them as he did so. At the fifth he stopped and landed on a dark blue carpet, glancing around at smooth white walls. Tryne appeared beside him, and Drevarin made them invisible so he could see the angel. Tryne turned and limped down the corridor, Drevarin close behind, his expression grim.

  The angel rounded a corner and slipped through a door just ahead. Drevarin followed, noting the strange equipment in the room with a frown. The angel stopped just inside the doorway, and Drevarin thrust him aside. In a chamber on the far side of the equipment-filled room, four armed men stood over an unconscious man lying on a steel table, his wrists and ankles clamped to it. Their strange black weapons were aimed at his chest, and Drevarin shed the cloak of invisibility as he strode forward.

  “Stop!”

  Drevarin’s shout shook the floor, and he knew Tryne would enjoy the mayhem his intervention would cause. Seldom was the wrath of a light god unleashed, and when it was, it tended to be awesome. Most of the people swung around and froze, gaping at Drevarin, some ducked behind the strange solid tables with glowing squares upon them, their tops covered with flashing lights. The four men in the chamber rushed out of the door, raising their weapons.

  A great roar shook the air, and fire spat from the ends of the weapons as metal projectiles flew at the light god. Drevarin raised a hand, and the bullets stopped a mere foot from his palm, hanging in the air. More and more bullets gathered before him, until the soldiers stopped firing and gaped at him. Drevarin lowered his hand, releasing the simple air shield he had employed, and the bullets fell to the carpet with a soft patter.

  Drevarin headed for the small room again, and Tryne hastened to his side. “Lord, there is a machine in there that will rob you of your senses, as it did the tar’merin.”

  The light god stopped. “A machine?” Tryne nodded, and Drevarin cast his eyes over the flashing consoles. “No doubt one of these things controls it.”

  Drevarin stepped towards the nearest console, and the soldiers backed away. A brown-haired man touched the flashing board before he reached it, and a bawling alarm sounded.

  Drevarin glared at the man. “Fool!”

  The light god placed his hand upon the board, and sparks flew from it, then the lights on it went out and the noise stopped. Moving to the next one, he did the same. People scuttled from his path as he made his way around the room, destroying the equipment. When all the lights on the consoles were extinguished, Drevarin approached the prison’s door. The soldiers fell over each other in their haste to get out of his way. Drevarin entered the brightly lighted room and approached the table. His eyes raked the unconscious man and came to rest on the rune scars.

  “By the light,” he murmured, “a living legend.”

  Nikira peeped over the console she had taken refuge behind, her heart hammering. The blond man stood over the dra’voren, his expression shuttered, and the winged being waited by the door, watching him. The guards had retreated to the far wall, their spent guns gripped in white-knuckled hands, their eyes fixed on the blond man. Enyo crawled up beside her.

  “Any idea what that one is, Commander?”

  “They’re all dra’voren. These two have come to rescue the one we captured.”

  “Evacuate the ship?”

  She nodded. “Go to the bridge and give the order. It looks like they want to talk to our captive before they start slaughtering us.”

  Enyo crawled towards the door while Nikira watched the blond dra’voren, frowning. He gestured, and the clamps on Bane’s limbs oozed away like quicksilver, then he spread his hands and placed them upon Bane’s chest, his expression rapt. Her mouth fell open as golden light flared under his palms and sank into the flesh of the man on the table, making his skin glow. It brightened, filling the shredder chamber with a pure, celestial incandescence. Nikira gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. The light flooded through the observation window and filled the containment room with a warm, benign radiance. Enyo stopped and turned to gape at the light, which lasted only a few moments. As it faded, Nikira’s eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed, her gut quivering.

  “No, it can’t be...”

  Enyo crawled back to her. “Commander...”

  “He’s a creator.”

  The blond man lifted his hands and stepped back, and Nikira stared at the dra’voren, whose injuries had vanished.

  “He’s healed him,” she whispered. “But why?”

  The creator exited the shredder room and stopped beside the door, gazing around. “Come forth!”

  Nikira rose to her feet, and the rest of the contechs followed suit, their eyes wide. The creator surveyed them with a flinty ga
ze, his expression grim.

  “I am Lord Drevarin. Do you know what I am now, or are the depths of your ignorance too profound?”

  “We know,” Nikira said in a shaking voice.

  His gaze impaled her. “Good. You are fools! All of you! It is not within my power to punish you, since you are not my people, but it is within his!” He stabbed a finger at the prisoner.

  “But why did you heal him? He’s a dra’voren.”

  “No, he is not!” Drevarin thundered, making everyone shrink back. “He is tar’merin!” He stepped closer to Nikira, who cringed. “His soul is pure! I am sure he told you this, many times, but you would not listen, would you?”

  “How could we know he wasn’t lying?”

  Some of the rage seemed to drain out of him, and he eyed her. “Indeed, hard to know. But when he summoned an angel to tell you, that should have been a very big clue!” His voice rose to a roar on the last words.

  Nikira tottered to the nearest chair and sat down on it, shaking. “An angel?”

  Drevarin stabbed a finger at the winged being, who waved. “Yes, foolish woman, an angel!”

  Nikira wanted to sink into the floor as a wave of shame and anguish washed over her. “We didn’t know.”

  “So it would seem. You almost killed him! You injured an angel. You tried to injure me! You deserve to be punished. If you had a god, I would demand that he did so.” He paused, breathing hard, his eyes filled with fury. “I was summoned from my domain to save him. His kind is so rare that only four exist in legend, and they are long since gone. Do you know how much one such as he is valued?