Nikira glanced at Drevarin. “Why did the dra’voren slow down like that?”
“Bane slowed time.”
“Bloody hell,” Montar swore, earning a hard look from Nikira. “Sorry, Commander, but you’ve got to admit, that’s bloody amazing.”
Sarrin clasped her hands. “Win, Bane. Please win. Destroy him.”
Drevarin cast her a sharp glance. “Desist, he needs no distractions.”
“Forgive me, Lord.” She looked stricken. “I have longed for someone to avenge Armorgan’s death, and never thought it would happen.”
“If he does,” Artan said, “I will worship him.”
“He will,” Drevarin avowed.
Torvaran lunged at Bane, and a black shield shot with red sparkles sprang up in his path, sending him staggering back. Bane leapt over the shield as it dispersed in a fall of shadows, black fire lifting him high. He dropped towards Torvaran and plunged the shining length of his sword into the dra’voren’s chest, then his hands flashed out to grip Torvaran’s arms again. Dark power exploded downwards from Bane, vanished into the rocks and formed a glowing crater where it struck. Torvaran shrank, but spikes sprouted from his belly once more, forcing Bane to release him and leap back. The Demon Lord’s shirt gleamed with blood, and the seven runes on his chest burnt bright yellow before they faded as his Gather died.
“He is more powerful than I thought,” Drevarin murmured.
Nikira yelped as five earth demons shot up behind Bane, their huge fists raised. The Demon Lord threw himself aside, rolled to his feet and destroyed the fiends with a lash of black fire that burnt a glowing trench in the rocks. Torvaran charged Bane, swinging his axe, and the Demon Lord jerked up his chin, using the power of his mind to throw Torvaran backwards several yards, but he landed on his feet.
Dark clouds gathered, shot with flashes of lightning that struck the ground all around the combatants. Thunder made the ship shiver as the vibrations ran through it.
Torvaran closed with Bane again, wielding the heavy battle axe with impossible speed to counter Bane’s sword. The weapons glittered in a blur, sparks cascading when they met. Bane sliced through one of Torvaran’s arms, but his droge body regenerated in a few moments. Nikira admired Bane’s skill with the sword, which he swung in flashing arcs, the blade bouncing off the battle axe’s steel handle with torrents of sparks. The battle surged to and fro, demons arising to threaten Bane or Torvaran, but were either annihilated, or other demons countered them. The vidscreen’s close-up view revealed the sheen of perspiration on Bane’s brow, and he gasped through an open mouth.
The physical exertion must be vast, Nikira mused. He moved faster than her eyes could follow, and rarely stood still for even a moment. He aided his movements with the dark power, half floating, half running. His prodigious leaps carried him high into the air, bringing him closer to his foe, or away, as the situation required. At times, Torvaran’s weapon skimmed Bane’s clothes, making the tense men and women who watched him gasp or groan in anguish. Nikira held her breath whenever he came to grips with the dra’voren, letting it out in sighs of relief that were echoed around the room when he evaded the threat.
The two gods’ weapons sliced deep into the rocks whenever they missed their target, testament to their immense strength. Any one of Torvaran’s blows would have killed Bane. Torvaran’s strength did not surprise Nikira, but when Bane took hold of him he was clearly a match for the dra’voren, which amazed her. Since his initial wounding, he had acquired no new ones, having learnt of Torvaran’s skill in forming droge blades. Many times he sliced or pierced the dra’voren’s body, but it seemed to have little effect.
Nikira glanced at the chronometer, surprised by how much time had passed. “How long can this go on for?”
Drevarin shook his head. “Not too long. Bane will tire, while Torvaran will not.”
***
Bane skipped aside as Torvaran’s battle axe swept past, a taunting sneer twisting his lips. The dra’voren gestured, and a fountain of molten metal erupted from the ground beside him, solidifying as it formed into moulded plates and drew to him, sheathing him. Bane wondered at the reason for it, since a droge form was so easy to regenerate.
Strengthening it with armour could not be a defensive strategy, so it had to be an aggressive one. Long, metal-sheathed tendrils sprouted from the dra’voren’s sides as he leapt at Bane, solving the mystery. The armoured hawsers whipped towards the Demon Lord, who sent his power downwards and rose on a column of black fire. The dra’voren followed, the tendrils snaking out in search of their prey.
Bane twisted sideways as one brushed his flank and slashed with his sword, which clanged off the armoured tentacle with a flash of sparks. He shot upwards, but Torvaran matched him. Bane became invisible and flung himself sideways. His foe also vanished, negating the advantage Bane had gained, as always happened when the tactic was employed.
Bane dropped, but a tendril struck him in the side and sent him tumbling. His sword scythed through empty air, then he hit the ground with a grunt. He leapt up, searching for the faint frisson of power that would give him Torvaran’s location. A thud nearby made him swing around. A tendril hit him on the side of the head and sent him rolling across the burning rocks.
***
Nikira leapt up and hurried over to Montar’s scanner screen, where two black figures fought in a swirling vortex of dark power. The others gathered around to peer over her shoulder, Sarrin’s group looking puzzled but amazed. Torvaran’s form was at the centre of a web of grey filaments as he Gathered power, whilst Bane’s outline was sharp-edged black.
***
The armoured tendril brushed over Bane as he struggled to rise to his feet, shaking his head to clear it of dancing lights. The tendril whipped around his waist, lifted him and spun him around as it carried him towards Torvaran. Bane unleashed a swathe of fire that melted the armour, but fountains of iron rose from the ground to renew it before he could slice through the tendril with the new sword he summoned. Torvaran Gathered from the power Bane released, and he shed the cloak of invisibility. The dra’voren became visible a moment later, his face stretched in a triumphant sneer. Bane crashed into his armoured chest, the droge rope tightening around him.
Realising what Torvaran intended, Bane jerked up his head, using mental force to send the dra’voren staggering back, the tendril uncoiling. Bane gasped, his chest held in a metal vice, and lashed out again with the dark power, melting part of the hawser’s armour, but again Torvaran renewed it before he could cut through the droge flesh within it.
Once more Torvaran yanked him closer, and spikes sprouted from the dra’voren’s chest in anticipation of their collision. Panic blanked Bane’s mind, and instinct took over. A black shield shot up between them in the instant before he struck. The blades bent as they hit the shield, and Torvaran snarled with rage. The tendril dug into Bane’s chest.
More bright lights danced in Bane’s eyes, this time from lack of air, and he struggled against the droge rope. Torvaran’s tactic was an excellent one, for Bane had no skills at armouring himself in the same fashion. His sword bounced off the armour with a spray of sparks. Torvaran stepped around the shield and yanked Bane closer again, but once more he caused a black shield to spring up between them. Torvaran growled with fury.
Bane wondered why the dra’voren had not formed spikes on the tendril that held him, which he could not have avoided. Was he unable to, or had he just not considered that possibility yet? The Demon Lord struggled in the tendril’s merciless, crushing grip, his eyes filling with a red haze. Pain lanced from his ribs, and one broke with a dull crack, sending a shaft of agony through him. He flung back his head, his lips twisted in a snarl of pain, and shouted a harsh word.
The tendril passed through him as he invoked the power of rock walking, and his need for air receded. Black fire poured from him to sustain his incorporeal state, and he used the power of his mind to send Torvaran reeling backwards again. Bane drifted free, returne
d to a solid state and gasped for air, clasping his ribs. The crushing had weakened him, but he could not show it, and charged towards Torvaran. The dra’voren skipped aside, the giant tendrils sinking back into his flanks. Forming and armouring them had cost him a lot of power, but he Gathered from the shadows Bane had been forced to unleash to escape them.
***
Nikira let out her pent breath as Bane escaped the huge metal ropes, her heart pounding. For several minutes she had thought that he was doomed, and she did not know how he had won free. Even Drevarin frowned, and Ethra whimpered as she clung to Sarrin, who was pale but composed. Mirra had turned away and buried her face in Mithran’s chest, but she looked up at the screen again when he whispered to her.
Bane paused to glower at his foe with pitch-black eyes, then spread his arms. The seven runes on his chest glowed bright yellow through his tunic. Torvaran charged him, but rebounded off the black shield that shot up in front of him and stumbled back again.
Montar glanced at the scanner screen and muttered, “Holy shit.”
Nikira followed his gaze and gasped. Huge conduits of darkness formed all around Bane, coalescing out of the air to soak into him in foul rivers. It poured from him into the ground, creating another glowing crater filled with bubbling lava. Torvaran charged in, but another shield blocked him.
“What’s he doing?” Nikira whispered.
Drevarin replied, “He is cleansing the dark power from the area, thereby denying Torvaran easily Gathered power. Once it is locked away in the rocks, it will be far more difficult for Torvaran to draw upon it. It is a good idea, but Torvaran will counter it.”
“Is there anything Torvaran can’t counter?”
He smiled. “Only Bane’s power. He is not a match for the Demon Lord. A powerful foe, but not powerful enough to defeat Bane.”
Seven earth demons sprang up behind Torvaran, who swung around and annihilated them with a burst of power. The dra’voren gestured, and a dozen metal lances appeared from thin air and flew at Bane. They ricocheted off the black shield that shot up in their path.
“He is good with his shields,” Drevarin commented. “Kayos has taught him well.”
The dark power Bane Gathered became visible on the main screen, forming a vortex around him. Torvaran gestured, and a huge mass of glowing lava engulfed the Demon Lord. His Gather died, and the dark power dispersed.
“Oh hell,” Nikira muttered.
Ethra wailed and clutched Sarrin, burying her face in the old priestess’ shoulder. Mirra stifled a sob, her expression anguished, and Mithran muttered a curse while the rest looked stunned.
Montar groaned, “No one could survive that.”
The heap of lava settled and spread, then Bane rose from it, glowing globules sliding off his clothes. A stunned cheer went up from Artan and his men, and the soldier joined in. Mithran patted Mirra’s shoulder and Grem thumped him on the back, making him cast the warrior a proud smile.
Bane strode towards Torvaran, the runes on his chest alight again as he renewed his Gather. The dra’voren retreated, raising his axe. Bane jerked up his chin again, and the dark god lurched backwards. The sky had lightened, and the remaining clouds gathered above them as if lured by their presence, lightning striking the ground around them. Their battle had cratered and blasted the area with glowing pools of lava and smoking trenches.
Ten fire demons rose from one of the lava pools and charged at Bane, their glowing eyes cutting molten lines in the stone. He banished them with a harsh word, but more rose, along with a number of earth demons. The demons battled in a brawl of gritty behemoths, pounding each other with huge fists. Fire demons joined the fray, burning earth demons’ soil to lava, and many sank down in defeat. The two dark gods ignored the embattled demons for the most part, except when one broke free of the melee and attacked one of them, whereupon he would destroy it with a lash of shadow.
“Commander, they’re getting close to the trap,” Montar said.
Drevarin frowned at him. “Do not use it.”
Nikira looked uncertain. “Is he winning?”
“Yes.”
Nikira shook her head at Montar, who moved his hand away from the control panel that would activate the generators. Bane lunged at Torvaran, a sword appearing in his fist. He sliced through the dra’voren, whose form wavered, then reformed as he swung his axe, missing when Bane ducked. Bane hurled his sword at Torvaran, impaling him through the chest, then leapt at him and grabbed his arms. Spikes shot from the dra’voren’s chest and belly, and one sliced under Bane’s armpit. Mirra gasped and chewed her lip, a hand raised to her mouth, and Mithran clasped her shoulder.
The Demon Lord hung on, and the ship’s cameras gave a close-up view of his face as he bared his teeth in a snarl of pain. The runes flared yellow, and Torvaran shrank in the instant before he freed himself by twisting in Bane’s grip, the spikes slicing across his belly. Torvaran retreated as Bane glanced down at his wounds, clasped them and frowned at the blood on his hand.
“He is almost a master, but he still makes mistakes,” Drevarin murmured.
“If he fought those other dra’voren like this, it’s no wonder he has so many scars,” Nikira commented in a stunned tone.
“He probably came close to death each time.”
“He did,” Mirra whispered, and Drevarin cast her a sympathetic glance.
“Courage, My Lady, he will survive this too.”
Nikira looked puzzled. “I can understand why Torvaran would use a weapon against Bane, but why does Bane use a sword? Surely it’s useless against a spirit god?”
“No, it is not. Although Torvaran does not suffer from physical exhaustion, maintaining his droge form costs him not only power but psychic energy, so damaging it does tire him. And it hurts.”
Bane summoned yet another sword and strode towards the dra’voren. A mass of lava engulfed Torvaran, and Bane stopped beside it, waiting for the dark god to reappear. Moments later, Torvaran emerged, and Bane hacked at him. Torvaran’s droge body wavered and smeared, then he shed it and rose in his dark form, which sprouted bat wings and opened blazing red eyes. Nikira hissed in dismay, for Torvaran appeared more formidable than ever, looming over Bane, who looked small in comparison.
“He is weakening,” Drevarin said.
“Who, Bane?”
“No, Torvaran.”
“But...”
Drevarin smiled. “He looks worse, but a droge body is a symbol of his power. It is unfortunate that there is no sunlight in the God Realm.”
Ethra yelped, and Nikira glanced up at the screen again. Another massive torrent of lava had engulfed Bane, and settled into a glowing pool. Everyone held their breath while Torvaran prowled around the pool. Nikira bit her lip, terrified for Bane, her heart pounding. The Demon Lord rose from the lava, and, as he did, Torvaran swung his axe. Bane flung himself backwards, sinking back into the lava, then rose again a few feet away. Torvaran leapt at him, bringing the axe down in a sweeping arc aimed to chop Bane’s head off.
The Demon Lord’s hands flashed up and gripped Torvaran’s arms, holding him at bay as he renewed his Gather. The dra’voren struggled, and a second set of arms sprouted from his shoulders and reached for Bane’s throat. Torvaran jerked one of his trapped arms free and punched Bane in the face. Blood oozed from Bane’s nose, but the runes on his chest flared bright yellow and Torvaran shrank. Shadows poured into the dra’voren from the dark clouds and the gloom between the rocks. He punched Bane again, and the Demon Lord fell back into the pool of lava. Torvaran wrenched free and retreated, Gathering shadows to thicken his form.
Bane climbed out of the glowing pool, shook his head and wiped blood from his nose. Nikira wondered how much more abuse he could withstand. He lunged at Torvaran, who tried to avoid him, but Bane was quick enough to catch his arm and yank him close. A toss of Bane’s head hurled the dra’voren away, leaving his dissipating shadow arm in Bane’s grasp.
She glanced at Drevarin. “Why doesn’t Torvaran do
that to Bane?”
“He does not have that power. It belongs only to mortal gods.”
Sarrin whispered, “Destroy him; destroy him.”
Torvaran faced Bane, drawing power now from the rocks beneath him, a glowing source opening at his feet. Blood ran down Bane’s face and dripped from his shirt, and he seemed a little unsteady. Rising on a column of black flame, he flew at Torvaran, gripped his arms and Gathered again. Torvaran summoned a dagger and stabbed Bane in the back before his form shrank and his arm withered away. Still he fought, unable to break free now. He drew shadows from the ground in a rush of darkness, which Bane forced back into the stones in a river of night.
Bane’s hands sank into the dark form as shadows swirled around him in a vortex. Nikira glimpsed him within it, his hair flying in the spectral wind, his cloak flaring. Something that shone like a star fell from Torvaran’s form to vanish amongst the rocks. The dra’voren slumped and Bane pinned him down, then they rolled over and Torvaran loomed over Bane, hammering him with black fists. Bane grimaced, and Torvaran’s form flew apart, torn by the force of Bane’s mind to allow a glimpse of redness within, then it reformed.
Drevarin gripped the console, leaning forward to gaze into the screen, his expression tense.
The two struggled in the huge crater that was the dra’voren’s source, half immersed in lava. Torvaran sought only to free himself now, but Bane hung on.
Bane’s breath came in harsh gasps, pain racked him and fatigue drained his strength. The dra’voren growled and writhed, his fists bruising Bane’s arms and face, tearing at him with long claws that left red welts. As the dark god neared destruction, Bane wondered what that was going to be like. Fairly cataclysmic, he imagined. Still he Gathered with all seven runes, the seventh linking the rest in a chain of power. Torvaran drew power from the ground in conduits of shadow, but Bane’s Gather outstripped his, and his form lost solidity.
Demon Lord VI - Son of Chaos Page 11