Bane looked at Artan, who had a nasty cut on his neck, and the warrior lowered his gaze to his hands. "No one was taken this time, thanks to you. That light chased the beasts away, and killed two of them."
"Do not expect me to do it again."
"No, of course not. Do you know what happened?"
Bane nodded. "These shackles were designed to imprison a dark god or black mage. I cannot use my magic while I wear them, and if I try, it causes me great pain. It almost killed me."
"I didn't know." Artan glanced at him. "That beast was burning on top of you, yet you're unscathed. Are you only a mage?"
Bane raised his hands and examined them. "The dark power protects me. What else could I be?"
Artan shrugged. "There are many things in this place that are strange to us. Things that are not what they appear to be."
"Yes, there are, but I am not one of them. However, whether you trust me or not is now a moot point, since you cannot remove these shackles."
"An unforeseen problem."
"And yet you have a seeress amongst you. Why did she not see it?"
"I don't know." Artan rose and went over to the fire, returning with two chunks of overcooked meat, one of which he held out to Bane. The Demon Lord took it, examining the charred offering with ill-concealed distaste.
"It doesn't taste very nice," Artan said, "but it's edible."
Bane nibbled on the meat, supressing a grimace of disgust at the oily, musky flavour. Setting it aside, he pondered his situation, liking it even less than he had before. The dark power sat sullenly in his bones, its dull anger affecting his mood. Now he was reliant upon these people for protection, a ridiculous predicament. Where was Kayos? Would the Grey God be able to find him in this accursed place?
Kayos stepped from the glowing pocket into a broad grey tunnel, its walls hung with chains. He recognised it as a remnant of a destroyed domain, its boundary wards long since faded away, being incorporated back into the God Realm. A quick glance around did not find Bane's trail, and he cursed. Now all he had to go on was a vague sense of which direction might be the right one, like intuition. Allowing it to guide him, he set off down the tunnel, the trio following. Without Bane at his side he was far more vulnerable to attack, and this was a dangerous place, for all its innocuous appearance.
Chapter Three
Dark God
Bane glanced at the demon, longing to denounce him to the others, but unable to without revealing himself as well. Only a god could sense a demon in droge form. Their illusion of flesh was perfect, and this one even had what appeared to be an old scabbed wound on his thigh. In domains they were detected through their deeds, and their presence was confirmed when a priest performed an exorcism. Possessions were similar, but easier to discern, since the possessed person was prone to fits and a change of character, often times appearing mad. He wondered why this one had chosen to join this shabby group instead of remaining in his domain, and it seemed likely that he had followed someone out of a Realm Gate.
The demon might also have wandered out of a collapsing domain, perhaps even Artan's. His reason for staying with the group seemed to be his female companion, and perhaps her attractions were his sole motivation. He was in no danger from the creatures of darkness, but his pretence of being human required him to aid in their defence, and in that regard he was useful. He was, however, a threat to Bane, who did not doubt that he would seek to kill him if possible, for just as Bane knew what he was, a demon knew a god when he was this close to one as well. A guard was always posted when the group slept, but often it was the demon, at which times Bane did not sleep.
Since the attack they had remained camped, feasting on the foul flesh. Bane had hidden his share, unable to stomach it. Wherever Artan thought he was going, he seemed in no hurry.
Bane looked up as Artan declared that they were moving out, and the group rose and broke camp. They packed the cooked meat into the bags with the rest of their possessions and stamped out the fire. Fresh torches, made from the oily hides of the slain dark creatures wrapped around long poles, were lighted, and Bane stood up, surveying the bedraggled group. Sooner or later, he supposed, someone would notice that he did not share their dirty appearance, and he hoped that he could convince them that a black mage could ward off filth like he could. The group resumed its defensive formation, and Bane followed the priestesses in the centre as before.
A couple of hours later they came across a stand of dead trees, and the group gathered wood, solving the mystery of where they got it from. Bane surmised that they encountered the trees on a regular basis, and wondered why no one had noticed this. A bundle of wood was thrust into his hands, and they continued on. They had only walked a short distance when the darkness twitched and the world spun. Bane staggered sideways, narrowly missing one of the soldiers, and fell to his knees, his head spinning. The group stopped, and Artan strode over to him.
"What now?"
Bane shook his head, wishing it would stop pounding. "It happened again."
"The world moved?"
"Yes." The dark power surged, and the bands on his wrists glowed. He swallowed bile, his flesh prickling.
Artan stared at the shackles. "How did it move?"
Bane pointed off to the right. "We were going that way before."
Artan looked at Ethra, who snorted. "He lies."
Bane glared at her. "Why would I lie? How often have you encountered those dead trees?"
"Never before," Artan asserted, frowning.
"So they do not look the same each time, but you find wood regularly, and water."
"Yes. But if, as you say, this is a trap, why would we be provided with what we need to survive?"
Bane shook his head. "I do not know. Perhaps they were there before the trap was created, or they might have been provided to prolong the suffering of whoever falls in here."
Artan looked uncertain, and Ethra walked closer, scowling at him. "You would believe a black mage? A worshipper of the darkness? He's not trying to help us!"
Bane stood up as the high-pitched thrumming came from the darkness. "They come."
Artan swung to face the gloom as the dark creatures boiled from it again. Bow strings twanged, and one beast fell, shot through the head, then the rest were upon them. Bane flung himself aside as a grey shape shot towards him, and it flashed past. He rolled to his feet as another came at him, beak agape, and he leapt away. One of the priestesses screamed as a beast sank its beak into her arm.
Bane ducked between two creatures and charged the one that held the old priestess, sending it flying with a double-handed punch. Its beak tore a gash in her arm as she was flung sideways. Bane whipped around just in time to duck under a clawed arm, and smashed the creature aside with his manacled hands. Another shot towards him, and he threw himself down, letting it streak past. Their speed was a formidable hunting asset, but became a liability when they encountered something faster.
Bane glanced around. The demon and his companion stood back to back, holding the creatures at bay with sweeps of their torches. Artan and his men cut and hacked at the beasts that attacked them, but had little time to defend the group's weaker members. A shriek drew his attention to the other side of the pool of light just as Ethra went down under a monster, her thin legs flailing. Everything slowed, and Bane realised that he had taken hold of time. He sprinted to Ethra, who writhed beneath the beast, her face twisted with terror.
The monster had her by the throat, its beak poised to sever her jugular. Bane kicked it, sending it flying into the darkness, then he lost his grip on time and everything speeded up to its former frenetic pace. Ethra coughed and rolled onto her side, groping for the torch she had dropped. A wailing scream came from the centre of the group, and Bane whipped around, then leapt backwards as a beast rushed at him. He tripped over Ethra and sprawled in the dust, rolling away as the beast's beak struck the ground where his head had been a moment before. The wailing scream grew fainter, and he sprang to his feet as the bea
sts vanished into the darkness.
A stunned silence fell, and the priestesses began to weep. The burly man walked towards them, then stopped and gave a roar of grief. He tried to run into the darkness, but two soldiers grabbed him and held him back. He fought them at first, then fell to his knees, sobbing. The girl child was gone. Bane gazed into the darkness, his chest heaving. Artan came to stand beside him, raking him with a hard glance before turning to watch the weeping man.
"She was his daughter."
"I gathered as much," Bane said. The dark power surged, making the shackles glow. Its sullen animosity filled him with rage, and he fought to control it.
Artan studied him again, frowning. A fresh wound in his shoulder oozed blood, and dust mingled with sweat on his face in brown smears. "Still you don't have a mark on you."
Bane shrugged. "Lucky I suppose."
Artan surveyed the group. The young priestess bound the older one's arm, two soldiers tended to minor injuries, and Ethra nursed her bruised throat. Artan walked over to the burly man and patted him on the back, then went to the priestesses and squatted beside them. Ethra joined them, and they muttered together for a while, glancing occasionally at Bane. He could have sharpened his hearing to listen to their conversation, but decided it was probably nothing he wished to hear. He suspected that he had revealed too much of his abilities during the battle, and now there would be unpleasant consequences. Artan stood up, helping the old priestess to her feet, and she approached Bane.
The Demon Lord looked down at her aged mien as she stopped before him and pushed her cowl back, revealing white hair and piercing green eyes. Artan stood behind her, his hand on his sword hilt.
"You are not a black mage," she stated.
Bane's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Artan, trying to gauge their mood. Ethra had wandered behind him, and he was keenly aware of the rusty dagger she carried. Artan watched her, the tension between them palpable. The priestess extended her hand towards Bane, and he stepped back.
"Do not touch me."
Artan tensed, and something sharp pricked Bane in the back, preventing his further retreat. He knew that Ethra now stood close behind him, her dagger pressed to his kidneys, so he stood still. The priestess laid a hand on his arm, then snatched it back with a hiss.
"You carry too much power for a black mage, and you move too fast for a mortal man. Perhaps you are a demon."
Bane shook his head. "I am not."
"Let's see if he bleeds, Sarrin," Ethra muttered.
"That would do us no good," the priestess said. "We would see whatever he wished." She glanced sharply at the girl. "Since he saved my life, and yours, I think he deserves fair treatment."
"He did that to gain our trust," Ethra snarled, and Bane winced as her dagger jabbed him.
"Perhaps, but if he is a demon, he can be exorcised."
Bane's brows shot up. "Why would you wish to banish one who has shown that he can, and will, help you?"
"Because you are evil, and one such as you is not capable of selfless acts. You must have an ulterior motive. Perhaps you enjoy our suffering, which you do not share. You do not eat the food we give you, and the beasts do not harm you."
"They would if they could, and eventually they probably will, when I make a mistake."
"Or you will pretend that they have."
Bane shrugged. "If I was a demon I could do that, yes. Exorcise me then, if it will convince you that I am not a demon."
"We will," Ethra snarled, shoving him forward, and the priestess stepped aside. The young seeress jabbed the dagger into his back again, making him walk closer to the fire the other members of the group had built while they had been talking. When he was a few paces from it, she tugged on his cloak.
"Kneel."
Bane sank down with a sigh, turning his head to glare at her. "You might want to show a little gratitude, girl."
She hissed and pressed the dagger to his throat, reminding him that he was at her mercy. "I would not thank a monster like you."
Artan stepped closer, frowning. "He's not to be harmed, Ethra."
"A demon cannot be harmed."
"We don't know that he is one yet."
"Only a demon could move as fast as he did."
The old priestess came to stand before Bane, and her younger companion handed her a golden bottle. Bane stared into the fire as she intoned the words of exorcism, wondering if it would have any effect on the dark power within him. It surged a little as her liturgy built to a climax, but not enough to cause him any discomfort. Sarrin sprinkled some holy water on him, and stepped back. The group stared at Bane for several moments, then Sarrin turned to Artan.
"He is not a demon."
"What is he then?"
Sarrin shook her head. "I know not."
Bane glanced over at the demon, who sat on the other side of the fire, watching him. The exorcism had not affected him because it had not been directed at him, but it had clearly made him uncomfortable. Ethra pressed the dagger into Bane's neck until he winced and leant away from her, then Artan strode over and dragged her away. Sarrin stood gazing down at him for a little longer, looking puzzled. She joined the others by the fire, and the subject of what he was seemed to be shelved for the moment. The priestesses were content to let him be so long as he was not a demon, and the possibility that he might be something worse had not occurred to them, apparently. No one offered him any food, and after a while he lay down and went to sleep.
Kayos stopped before a wall of black rock, glancing up and down the tunnels that ran off in opposite directions along it. In one direction it led into an area of glowing redness, in the other into darkness, but his intuition told him that Bane was somewhere ahead. He raised his hands and gestured, and pearly light streamed from his fingers. The rock opened, and he stepped into it, the steeds close behind.
Bane gazed at the pool of black water, the first he had seen in the God Realm. The group hastened to it and knelt to drink and fill their water skins. He calculated that they had been walking for several hours, but time was hard to judge in the constant darkness. While the group was occupied with the water, he turned away and summoned a cup of ambrosia to slake his thirst. The terrain around the waterhole was strewn with bones, either because the victims of this trap spent more time here, or because something hunted them here, or both.
Splashing drew his attention to the pool, where the group washed off the grime, their thirst slaked. Dismissing the ambrosia, he wandered back as they emerged and set up camp. As soon as a fire was lighted, the young priestess handed out food to be heated on it, and Sarrin and Ethra spread wet clothes around it to dry. Bane dumped his load and settled down by the fire, rubbing his aching legs.
Bane's nape hairs bristled, and he sharpened his sight as he glanced around. The darkness shivered, and part of it moved, taking on a hulking shape that raced towards the far side of the camp where Ethra spread a tattered dress out to dry, oblivious to her danger. Bane leapt up and charged straight across the group, who recoiled in surprised as he ran right through the fire. He reached Ethra an instant before the creature did, bowling her over as he sprang between them. She sprawled with a shocked yelp, and the monster hit Bane with the force of a galloping horse, knocked the wind out of him and sent him rolling in the dirt.
It roared and leapt at him, raking his chest with long curved claws. His power reacted to his injury unbidden, pouring from his bones. The shackles flared, and pain shot through him as he raised his legs and planted his feet on the monster's chest, then hurled it backwards with a powerful kick. It flew several feet and landed heavily, and the soldiers reached it before it could rise, stabbing it. It flailed at them with massive arms before it leapt up and raced away into the darkness, leaving a trail of blood.
Bane rolled onto his side, struggling to suck air into his burning lungs. The shackles shone with scintillating brilliance, and the dark power seethed within the prison of his flesh, burning in his blood. He writhed, biting his lip as a soft g
roan escaped him. Someone knelt beside him, and a sword clanged on the ground, then hard hands rolled him onto his back and thumped his chest. Air rushed into his lungs as his sight dimmed, and he groaned again, striving to control the dark power through the haze of pain. He was aware that the runes on his chest had ignited, and of Artan's muffled oath.
The dark power fought Bane, and the added pain of his wounds weakened him. The shadows flowed through him, seeking exit, rushing back and forth in a black tide of agony. His stomach contracted into a tight knot, and he rolled onto his side again, retching. The dark power had not wreaked such havoc upon him since he had learnt how to increase his control over it after his healing, but now he was at its mercy again.
Bane had no idea how long it took him to regain control and force it back into quiescence. It seemed like an age, and by the time he did he was shaking with fatigue. He became aware of the people gathered around him, and that cold sweat chilled his skin. He rolled onto his back, gasping as the last dregs of pain leaked away, leaving only the burning of his injuries. The beast had ripped his shirt open, exposing the rune scars. If they were going kill him now, there was little he could do about it. The silence was deafening and pregnant, and, when no one rammed a sword through his heart, he opened his eyes.
Artan's expression was a study of angry confusion. Sarrin looked uncertain, Ethra appeared doubtful and the rest looked stunned, apart from the demon, who seemed nervous again. Bane closed his eyes. They knew what he was now, without a doubt.
"If you are going to kill me, best get it over with. There is nothing I can do to stop you."
The silence became more pregnant, and then Artan broke it. "You're mortal?"
Bane nodded. "I am." He sensed Sarrin move closer and kneel beside him, and opened his eyes.
Demon Lord V - God Realm Page 3