Demon Lord VI - Son of Chaos

by T C Southwell

  Mithran whispered to her, and she muttered back, shaking her head. Drevarin removed Bane’s blood-soaked shirt, revealing the extent of his injuries. In addition to the wounds they had seen him acquire, he had a number of cuts on his hands and arms and a lot of red marks and swellings. Blood oozed from his nose and ears to stain the pillow.

  Nikira glared at the gawkers and said, “This man needs treatment! Move!”

  Two medtechs stepped forward, looking uncertain, then Jovan elbowed his way through the crowd and stared down at Bane.

  He looked up at Drevarin. “But surely...?”

  “I cannot heal him. Treat him as you would any other patient.”

  Jovan shook his head. “He needs blood, but if we give him a transfusion it might have an adverse effect, like the drip we tried.”

  “Just bind his wounds. No blood.”

  “What about drugs?”

  Drevarin nodded. “Drugs will be all right.”

  Jovan gave orders to the medics, who brought trays of medical equipment and placed them on the table beside the bed. Jovan selected a syringe and injected Bane in the arm, paling and gulping. A junior medtech tried to wipe off the blood on Bane’s chest, but drew back, retching. Jovan glanced at Drevarin, who pulled a wry face.

  “His power will sicken you, for it remains strong. That is why I cannot heal him, but it will do you no harm.”

  Jovan donned a pair of rubber gloves and picked up a bottle of disinfectant, then frowned at Mirra when she took a cotton swab and wiped Bane’s cheek.

  “You’re not sterile, young lady, stand back.”

  Drevarin smiled. “Do not worry about infection.”

  Mirra continued with her self-appointed chore, although she turned pale and bit her lip.

  Jovan glared at the spectators who had gathered again. “Get back to work, all of you. This isn’t a sideshow.” He glowered at the little group that had followed Bane into the hospital. “That goes for you lot as well. Go and wait somewhere else.”

  They all moved away except for Nikira, Drevarin and Mirra, and Jovan threaded a needle, eyeing the wounds in Bane’s chest.

  “I watched the battle on the vidscreen. Incredible. I thought he would be wounded worse than this. In fact, I didn’t think he would survive, never mind win. He must have lost a hell of a lot of blood.”

  Drevarin nodded. “That is why he is unconscious.”

  Jovan noticed the faint puffs of steam Bane exhaled and picked up an instrument from his tray, pressing to Bane’s chest. His eyes widened as the numbers on the readout shot up.

  “Bloody hell. His core temperature’s over two hundred degrees! Bring ice, quick!”

  Drevarin held up his hand as two medics started to obey, and they froze. “Do not be alarmed. I think it is a side effect of his use of the dark power. It will not harm him. It will return to normal in time.”

  “You think?”

  Drevarin nodded. “There was more steam coming off him outside, but he still lives. If it was going to kill him, he would be dead already, not so?”

  “He should be dead with vitals like that.”

  Mirra’s swab became soaked, and she retched as she threw it into a nearby waste receptacle. Jovan glanced at her, and then touched the gash he intended to sew. At once he turned away, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth with a scowl.

  “I can’t touch him.”

  Drevarin walked around the bed and clasped his shoulder. “Do it now.”

  Jovan was able to sew the wound, although he turned pale and gritted his teeth. “Does he always make people sick when he has his power?”

  Drevarin chortled. “No. It is not leashed, for he lost consciousness while he was purging, so it leaks from him still. Also, he carries far more than he would normally choose to do, an aftermath of the battle.”

  “He’s going to have horrible scars.”

  “When he wakes and casts out more of his power, I will heal him.”

  Jovan nodded, and, when the injuries were stitched, Drevarin lifted Bane so Jovan could bandage them. Jovan hooked up a number of monitors, shaking his head in amazement at Bane’s impossibly low blood pressure and high temperature, then wheeled his bed into a private room. Mirra accompanied him and settled on a chair, gazing at her husband with deep concern and adoration.

  Drevarin went to find Sarrin and the others, who waited on a bench near the hospital entrance. They jumped up when he approached, and he made a soothing gesture.

  “Bane is well enough; there is no need for concern.”

  Mithran slumped and Grem rubbed his brow, the rest relaxed.

  Drevarin turned to Sarrin. “Would you pray to Kayos, good priestess?”

  “Of course, Lord. What should I tell him?”

  “Just that all is well, and he may now emerge.”

  “Would he not know that?”

  “He should, yet he seems not to. Perhaps he has fallen into an exhausted sleep.”

  “I will call to him, Lord.”

  Drevarin swung away and almost bumped into Nikira, who stepped back, looking embarrassed.

  “Sorry, sir – Lord.”

  “What is it?”

  “I was just wondering, couldn’t we – you open the sphere?”

  Drevarin chuckled. “Open a Grey God’s shield sphere? You jest!”

  “But you’re a creator, surely you can?”

  “No, I cannot. Only he can.”

  “But...” She looked worried. “Could he be injured?”

  “No. He must be resting. We just have to wait, and Sarrin will pray.”

  “Will that wake him up?”

  “It might.”

  Nikira chewed her lip. “It’s just that we’re awfully vulnerable without our stealth capabilities. What if another dra’voren comes along?”

  “The chances of that happening are extremely slight. Dra’voren are not that common, even in the God Realm.”

  “But if it did, we’d be unable to reach the Grey God, and he’d be in danger again.”

  He tilted his head. “A legitimate concern, but what are you suggesting we do about it?”

  “We must wake him up. How do we even know he’s still inside that thing?”

  “Because it is still there. Sarrin will wake him with her prayers.”

  “How long will that take?”

  Drevarin raised his hands. “It will take as long as it takes.”

  Nikira frowned as he walked away, his refusal to co-operate frustrating her wish to examine the shield sphere. Did she really need him? All that remained outside were the two beast dra’voren, and how dangerous were they? Were they even still there? Although formidable looking, they seemed to be no more than servants used to hunt light gods.

  Would they attack, and if so, could a squadron of soldiers keep them at bay with light guns? The three dark beasts that had been with the refugees when they had found them had been destroyed easily enough; surely these demon hounds could not be so different? The lure of examining the shield sphere was powerful, offering a unique opportunity to add to their woefully inadequate data on creators. The bureaucrats back at base would give her a medal. She considered seeking Drontar’s advice, but discarded the notion. It was her ship and crew, her decision. Her mind made up, she made her way down to the observation room.

  Montar looked up when she walked in, his expression dazed. “Commander, you should see this, it’s amazing.”

  Nikira went over and studied his scanner screen, her brow furrowing. A recording of one of the battle scenes was frozen on it, Bane and the dra’voren visible as black forms, one of Bane’s shields between them. Montar touched his board, zooming in on the shield.

  “Look at the density of that shield.” He pointed at the numbers on the side of the screen. “That’s denser than lead. You know those red sparkles we saw in his shields? I analysed them. They’re tiny explosions. He condensed the dark power to such an extent that it was actually destroying itself. I analysed the dra’voren’s shields, and they�
�re nowhere near as dense.”

  Nikira nodded. “Incredible. I guess that’s why he won.”

  “Yeah. Did you want something?”

  “I want to have a look at that shield sphere. I’ve told the pilot to move the ship as close to it as we can get.”

  Montar touched his control board and routed a real-time scanner image to his screen. The sphere was a shimmering orb of rainbow light, like a pearl. “What’s to see? It’s white power.”

  “I want to examine it and get a sample, if I can.”

  “What about that?” Montar pointed at a lupine form sitting a few yards from the shield sphere.

  Nikira eyed it. “That must be the one Bane summoned. I guess the other one ran off or dispersed or something when Torvaran was destroyed.”

  “Maybe, but that one’s still there, and I reckon it’s dangerous.”

  “Bane ordered it not to harm anything.”

  “Isn’t he unconscious?” Montar asked.

  “Yeah, but I don’t think that makes a difference.”

  Montar shook his head. “That’s a lot of guesswork, Commander. What if you’re wrong?”

  “I’ll take a squadron of soldiers with me.”

  “That’s still a hell of a risk.”

  Nikira straightened, shrugging. “But it’s mine to take. The ship will be close by.”

  “So what did you come here for?”

  “I want you to take the samples.”

  Montar’s brows shot up. “I’m an obstech; you need contechs.”

  “That’s an artefact, not a dra’voren, so this is an observer mission, not containment.”

  “I guess so.” He rose. “I’ll get my equipment.”

  While he was busy, Nikira called the barracks and ordered a squadron of soldiers to meet her at the outer door. The men were waiting when she and Montar arrived, and Nikira tapped in the code. The door slid open, admitting a blast of smoky air. The sphere sat on the rocks only a couple of hundred yards away, shimmering in the dull light, and Nikira strode towards it.

  The soldiers ranged themselves around her and Montar, forming an armoured wall. As she approached the sphere, a deep sense of awe filled her. It stood more than ten feet in circumference, and gave off soft pearly light. The wolf-like dra’voren Bane had summoned watched them with glowing red eyes, its baleful gaze making her shudder. The sphere’s surface flowed like quicksilver, iridescent patterns swirling across it, like oil on silver water. Montar set down his metal equipment case and stared at it, looking dazed again.

  “No reflections. Look at that, it’s not reflecting anything.” He ran his fingertips along the glimmering surface, flinching at first, and then smiling. “It’s warm... friendly. That’s amazing. It feels like glass.”

  Nikira hesitated, and then reached out to stroke the sphere. “It’s smoother than glass.”

  “Virtually frictionless, I think. Commander, this feels wrong.”

  “I know, but we’re not going to harm it.”

  Montar shook his head and opened his case, extracted an instrument and pointed it at the sphere. “No radiation, but a low-grade emission of some sort, like a wave pattern. Similar to the one the dra’voren gives off.”

  “Tar’merin. It’s the translation field, or whatever they call it.”

  Montar drew another, smaller instrument from the case and held it against the sphere, reading its tiny screen. “This is also denser than lead. A lot denser. Yet according to this, it’s a liquid.” He frowned. “That makes no sense at all. It has a tensile strength that’s off the scale, but its mass is almost zero. It’s like... solid light.”

  “Well that stands to reason,” Nikira murmured, caressing the sphere. “It’s white power, which is light, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but you don’t get solid light.”

  “Unless you’re a creator, in which case, you can make anything.”

  Montar put the instrument away and selected another. “No one will believe these readings, Commander.”

  “That’s their loss then.”

  The officer in charge of the squad looked around. “Commander, that thing’s coming towards us.”

  Nikira tore her attention from the sphere and glanced over at the beast dra’voren, which padded towards them, its gaze malevolent.

  Montar waved the next instrument over the sphere. “It has some sort of structure in it, like a sort of web.”

  The beast dra’voren turned and walked around them, away from the ship. Nikira toyed with the idea of ordering the soldiers to shoot it, but decided to wait and see if it did anything first. Montar rummaged in a case and drew out a container and a sharp instrument, which he scraped against the sphere. The black monster moved away and sat down again, yawned and blinked. Nikira turned back to Montar, who scratched at the sphere with a frown.

  “I’m not getting anything off this, which isn’t surprising,” he muttered.

  “Try a diamond blade,” Nikira suggested.

  “I reckon this stuff is diamond’s older brother.” Montar dug in another bag, took out a diamond blade and tried it. “Nothing.”

  “What about a phosphine cutter? Maybe it will melt.”

  Montar shrugged and put away the blade. “I doubt that.”

  “Keep trying until something works.”

  “Maybe nothing will.” Montar pulled out a phosphine cutter and lighted it, pressing the white-hot tip to the sphere.

  “Then we’ll know that much, won’t we? I still want to recover one of those swords Bane discarded, and that shining thing Torvaran dropped.”

  Montar shot her a scandalised look. “Those are far from here, Commander.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t look like that beast’s a threat to us.”

  The officer’s comunit beeped and the tinny voice of an obstech shouted, “Get out of there! The other creature is heading straight for you! It’s coming from the direction of the ship and it’s moving really fast!”

  Montar cursed and switched off the cutter, throwing it into the bag as the soldiers trotted towards the ship. Nikira grabbed the other bag and ran, Montar at her heels, a few soldiers hanging back to form a rear guard. They sprinted towards the ramp, and the dark beast came into sight under the ship, racing towards them. The soldiers opened fire, strafing it with lances of blue light, but although the light guns burnt holes through its dark form, it did not slow down.

  It ploughed into them, moving too fast to evade as it sank its teeth into torsos and limbs and tore chunks of flesh from its screaming victims with vicious jerks of its head. It tossed each man aside as he died, spraying blood on those around it. Some of the men shot it in a useless frenzy, others fled, shouting in horror. Squad leaders yelled useless orders at men too panicked to heed them, and it would have done no good if they had. In the few seconds that had passed since the start of the attack, it had become all too clear that there was no way to fight a demon hound and little chance of escaping its brutal power and savage speed. Nikira’s heart hammered in her throat, almost choking her as she dragged Montar around the embattled men.

  The soldiers followed in a full scale rout, abandoning all attempts to fight the Hellhound, which chased them down and ripped them apart. Blood-chilling screams and gurgling cries rang in Nikira’s ears, underscored by the sickening crunch of breaking bones. The second dark beast emerged from the shadows under the ship, blocking their way.

  Montar cursed, shooting a glance back at the beast that pursued them. The soldiers stopped and opened fire, pouring beams of hot blue light into the Hellhound in their path, which only made it twitch and snarl.

  “Keep going!” Nikira shouted, goaded by the screams behind her.

  The soldiers surged forward, then scattered as the beast lunged at them, its claws scraping on the rocks. It came within a couple of feet of the foremost men, baring long crimson fangs. The men regrouped around Nikira, pointing their useless light guns at the growling beast.

  Nikira pushed the men in front of her. “Go! Go! It won�
��t harm us!”

  They walked forward, their faces stiff with trepidation as the demon hound charged at them, making them leap aside with yells of fright. The men behind her gave panicked shouts and scattered, firing wildly. Nikira glanced back, and her heart froze. The first dark beast caught a fleeing soldier and ripped off his leg, spraying blood. She had not thought it was possible to literally tear a man limb from limb, but apparently it was, with enough strength and speed.

  The fallen man shrieked and threw up his hands as the beast dropped the limb and pounced on him, ripping out his throat. The rest of the men fled, abandoning their training and discipline in the face of such an invincible and merciless enemy. Nikira dragged Montar towards the ramp, her breath coming in harsh gasps. Most of the men headed for the ramp too, giving the second dark beast a wide berth, and some made it into the ship. Nikira yelped as the demon hound leapt into her path, its hackles raised, and crouched, ready to spring. She tried to run around it, but it cut her off, snarling.

  “Drevarin! Help us!”

  A coughing cry came from behind her as the first beast caught one of the men who had remained to guard her back and tore him apart. The rest stood shoulder to shoulder in a grim-faced wall, shielding their commander. Montar stood between her and the second beast, holding his equipment case before him like a shield, his face chalk pale. The Hellhound regarded him with glowing yellow eyes, radiating evil in a cold, foetid aura. This close to it, her stomach clenched as it had done in Bane’s presence, reacting to the dark power the demon hound emanated.

  “Drevarin!” Nikira bellowed, recoiling as blood splattered her from the brutal demise of another of her protectors. The blue fire that the soldiers poured into the shadow beast had little effect, apart from enraging it further. Men broke and ran for the ramp, but the second beast blocked the way. Nikira glanced up as a pale light appeared above her, and her heart filled with relief as Drevarin floated down to them. He landed beside her and took in the situation with a glance, shooting her a furious look.

  “Stupid woman!”