Demon Lord V - God Realm

by T C Southwell

  "Can anyone else tell if you are?"

  "Only a light god. I had one as my companion, before I fell into the trap. I hope he finds me soon."

  "More lies," Ethra said.

  Artan snorted. "I find that hard to believe."

  Sarrin leant closer to Bane, gazing down at his pale, finely chiselled features. "It could be true, if he is tar'merin. What was his name?"

  "Kayos."

  Her brows rose. "Indeed? One of the Seven Originators."

  "The eldest of the Grey Gods."

  "Ordur is the eldest."

  "Chaos came before order."

  Sarrin looked up as Juvo approached, carrying the demon's sword and a rock. Bane opened his eyes as the burly man squatted down beside him, looking puzzled and a little apprehensive. Juvo took hold of the manacles and pulled Bane's arms to the side, forcing him to roll onto his side with a grimace of pain. Juvo placed Bane's wrists on a stone and picked up the sword.

  Bane's eyes widened. "Cutting off my hands might free me from the shackles, but I cannot grow new ones."

  "We know." Artan said. "We're not removing the shackles, just breaking the link between them. That way you'll be more useful in a fight."

  "I see." Bane relaxed. Juvo fitted the sword blade into the groove between the cuffs and pick up the rock. The hammering soon made Bane's ears ring, and the others moved away to sit by the fire.

  Two hours later the shackles parted, and Bane was able to move his arms independently again. He stretched them, rubbed his shoulders and winced, then closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  Artan gazed at him, gnawing on a chunk of meat. "Does he eat?"

  Sarrin nodded. "Physically he is almost identical to us, but he possesses more strength and the ability to wield vast amounts of dark magic."

  "He hasn't touched our food at all."

  "Then he must have his own."

  "How badly hurt is he?"

  She sighed, shooting a glance at Bane. "I am not sure. His wounds are not serious, but I think the shackles are harming him. He said that they were killing him."

  "He could have lied."

  "I do not think we should regard everything that he says as a lie."

  "He's a dark god."

  "I am aware of that." Sarrin nibbled her meat. "He wishes to leave this place as much as we do, and considering that he can be killed, he has as much to lose as us. If only I could be certain that he is tar'merin, I would ask you to remove the shackles immediately."

  "That may be easier said than done. The link between the cuffs was thin, yet it took Juvo two hours to cut through it."

  Sarrin sighed and stared into the fire. "If only we knew for sure."

  Kayos stepped from the glowing sphere into an area of shifting greyness, glancing back at the rock wall behind him. A feeling of unease had been plaguing him for some time, and now that his power no longer surrounded him, he stretched forth his senses. Something moved towards him within the rock, but he could not identify it. He surveyed the new terrain, finding that it was neutral, the greyness thick and viscous, like water. Whatever was following him was not friendly, he was certain, and the greyness would slow him. He pushed his way through it, the trio following within the protection of his shield.

  Chapter Four

  Demigoddess

  Bane woke with a jerk, and groaned as pain flared from his chest and arm. His muscles still throbbed, and his stomach was a tight, empty knot. Rolling onto his side, he levered himself upright, his muscles stiff from their earlier abuse. Artan sat by the fire, his head sunk on his chest as if he had fallen asleep. Bane scanned the darkness, finding it empty.

  Turning his back to Artan, he summoned a cup of ambrosia and gulped from it. His eyes fell on Rinath, lying bound a short distance away, and he grimaced. She should have been dead, but evidently she was tougher than he had thought, and he was surprised that Artan had not killed her. He sipped the ambrosia, then jumped when Artan stepped in front of him and hunkered down, his eyes on the golden cup.

  "I suppose you thought I was asleep."

  "You appeared to be. Are you a mage with eyes in the back of your head?"

  Artan smiled. "No. I don't think we'll find any more surprises amongst this group."

  "That will be a mercy."

  "What's that?" Artan jerked his chin at the cup.

  "God food."

  "May I?"

  Bane held out the cup, and the warrior took it, glancing inside. "It's empty."

  "Like I said, it is god food. Forbidden to mortals."

  "But not mortal gods."

  "Indeed."

  Artan handed back the goblet. "Do you think we should have killed Rinath?"

  Bane glanced at the demigoddess. "Probably. She may prove to be more trouble than she is worth."

  "She can help to fight off the dark beasts."

  "And it will be hard for me to sleep with her around."

  Artan nodded. "But she must sleep too."

  "Which means I cannot until she does. If anything happens to me, you will be at her mercy."

  "Then we'll just have to make sure nothing happens to you, won't we? What would you do if we took off the shackles?"

  Bane eyed the stocky warrior. "Anything I say, you will discount as a lie."

  "Humour me."

  The Demon Lord gazed at the pearly fluid in the cup. "I would help you to escape this trap and try to find a domain where you could live."

  "Why?"

  Bane shrugged, and winced. "Because I am tar'merin. If you do not believe that, then believe this: the shackles will eventually kill me. That is what they are designed to do."

  "Even if you're tar'merin?"

  "They bind the dark power to me, so I cannot unleash it, and in time it will consume me. Your god created them to defeat his enemy, and I doubt that he considered the possibility that they might be used on a tar'merin. We are, by all accounts, rare."

  Artan studied him, looking thoughtful. "You're a contradiction in terms. Dark gods are, by definition, evil."

  "I was not born a dark god. I was forced to take up the power by the dark god who made me what I am. It has always disagreed with me." Bane sighed and sipped the ambrosia. "It is complicated."

  "I see. Did you know what Rinath was before she revealed her power?"

  "No. Mortal gods are hard to spot, demigods even harder. She knew what I was, which is why she used Ethra to try and make you kill me, but I did not notice her, she kept away from me and was unobtrusive."

  Artan gazed at the unconscious woman again. "How powerful is she?"

  "Far more powerful than a black mage. They do not have the ability to store the dark power, only a god can do that. A black mage must Gather while he wields, so his ability is limited by the shadows available to him, and what his flesh can stand." He sipped the ambrosia. "Of course, even normal mortals like you can be invaded by tiny amounts of darkness, which corrupts their souls."

  The warrior rose and went to tend the fire, returning with a piece of charred meat when it was blazing again. He settled down a little further from Bane than before. "So, you could corrupt us."

  Bane nodded. "Yes, if I was not wearing the shackles. But people have a natural barrier that keeps evil at bay, and of course, their faith in their god."

  "My god is dead."

  "You still have your belief in what is right and wrong. That will protect you to a certain extent."

  "But not completely."

  Bane looked at Rinath. "No. She was probably trying to corrupt you before, and she will try harder now."

  "Can you protect us?"

  "No. I can do nothing to prevent it, apart from killing her."

  "Even without the shackles?"

  "Without them I could draw the darkness from you, but if you were susceptible it would invade you again." Bane waved the cup of ambrosia out of existence, and Artan blinked.

  "Doesn't that require you to use your magic?"

  "Not the darkness."

  Artan tor
e off a chunk of meat and chewed it, frowning. He seemed to have run out of questions for the moment, and Bane nodded at Rinath. "Those chains will not hold her."

  "What will?"

  "Nothing, except these." Bane indicated the shackles. "She will melt the chains off in a few moments."

  "Can you stop her?"

  "No."

  Artan looked suspicious. "But I expect you could if you weren't wearing the shackles."

  Bane smiled. "No. Then she would fear me far more, but I could not prevent her from using her power. I am not trying to make you take them off. I know you cannot."

  "So you think I should kill her?"

  Bane sighed and spread his hands. "She will not harm you so long as she needs you to guard her while she sleeps, but you cannot allow her to enter another domain. No light god will let her in, anyway. She will be a threat to all of you once we are out of this trap and she feels that she does not need you anymore."

  "Then as soon as we're out of it, we'll kill her."

  "And me?"

  Artan hesitated. "No. As long as you wear the shackles, you're no threat to us."

  Bane inclined his head, then looked around as Rinath groaned. Artan stiffened, his hand seeking his sword hilt, his glance flying to Bane.

  "I hope you're feeling strong enough to deal with her now."

  "Not really, but she does not know that."

  Rinath's eyes opened, ink-black in her chalk-white face, and she writhed, discovering that she was bound. She turned her head to glare at Bane, and the glamour she had used to make herself look unremarkable faded. The dark power had made her strikingly beautiful, as it did all who wielded it. Her ebon hair and eyes remained unchanged, but her features were revealed in all their startling perfection. Artan drew a deep breath as she glanced at him, turning the full power of her beauty upon him. The chains melted and fell away, and she sat up, turning to Bane again. A sweet smile curved her full red lips.

  "Did they think they could bind me?"

  "Evidently."

  She raised a hand to her head and grimaced. "Were you trying to kill me?"

  "Not really."

  "You will not get another chance."

  "You plan to leave us?"

  Her eyes slid away, a glint of fear in them. "No."

  "Then you will do as you are told."

  She glanced at the shackles. "You cannot make me."

  "And you cannot kill them. You need them."

  "For now, but I do not need you. I shall kill you at the first opportunity I get." Her hand sought her dagger and found an empty sheath, which did not surprise her.

  "I am sure you will try."

  "I will succeed. I shall summon Vertack again."

  Artan glanced at Bane. "I thought you destroyed the demon?"

  Bane shook his head. "He was vanquished, and went to a dark realm."

  Artan looked alarmed. "She could summon a whole host of demons."

  "No, I do not think so. If she could, she would have done so already. One demon is all she can control, and only a minor one."

  "One is all I need," she snarled.

  "I will not allow you to summon one."

  "How will you stop me? You have no power." Her lips curled in a contemptuous sneer.

  Bane leant forward. "Do not try me."

  Once again her eyes glinted with fear, then she jumped up and walked over to the fire, where she helped herself to meat and water. Artan leant closer to Bane and muttered, "How will you stop her?"

  The Demon Lord shrugged. "I have no idea."

  "You were bluffing?"

  "Dark gods are good liars."

  "Armorgan's teeth!" Artan stared at Bane. "This is a dangerous game you're playing."

  "It is not a game."

  "Damn right it's not. Our lives are at stake."

  "You are safe for now, but when the time comes, you had best kill her when she is not expecting it."

  Artan nodded, and Bane glanced at Rinath, who tore at a chunk of charred meat. "So demigods do not have the ability to summon ambrosia," he mused. "I wonder how limited her powers are?"

  "Not limited enough." Artan frowned at Bane. "How limited are yours?"

  "Pretty much non-existent."

  "I wish I knew if you were telling the truth."

  "So do I." Bane looked down at his torn shirt and raised his hands to caress the material, pressing the rents together. The cloth sealed up, and in moments the shirt was restored. He laced it up. "She cannot sense the trap turning, either."

  "How long before we can leave?"

  "I need to rest a while longer."

  Artan nodded, watching the demigoddess.

  Kayos entered an area of glowing golden rocks interlaced with rivers of fire, and glanced back. That which followed him was drawing closer, despite the speed at which he moved. He was forced to stop from time to time to reinforce his sense of which direction to take, and that allowed his pursuer to gain ground. The dim, snow-clad dead forest he had just left hid whatever followed him, and he turned to look ahead again. Beyond the small golden region was a bank of white cloud, much like a light realm. Rising into the air, he flew towards it, making up time while the going was easy. The steeds followed below, able to match his speed, their riders drooping with fatigue. His concern for the mortals was becoming acute, and soon he would be forced to stop and rest for their sake. They needed food and sleep.

  Bane remained prone, giving the impression of languid laziness until he calculated that he had regained sufficient strength to rise and walk without revealing his weakness. That had taken two sleep periods, during which a guard had been posted to watch Rinath as well as the darkness. Bane had slept more than anyone else, secure in the knowledge that the guard would rouse him if Rinath came anywhere near him. She had done nothing untoward, either because she feared him, or she was trying to lull them into a false sense of security. That, he mused, would not work. The group was extremely nervous of both of them, and he could not blame them. Ethra had not come near him, but had listened to him answer Sarrin's questions, most of which were about his powers and his past. He had answered her unreservedly, and she seemed to believe him.

  The dark power gnawed at his flesh, and the sickness it caused increased. He had to leash it constantly now, for it leaked from his bones of its own accord, no longer content to remain there. The shackles glowed faintly, and when he slept the shadows stole into his blood, waking him with the burning pain. His stomach rejected the ambrosia, and he could eat little. The soldier Vertack had struck down regained consciousness, to Artan's relief, and they buried the young priestess in the dusty ground.

  When everyone woke from the second sleep period, Bane sat up and nodded at Artan, who gave the order to break camp. The Demon Lord summoned a cup of ambrosia and sipped it, but his stomach heaved, and he vomited. Sarrin came over and squatted beside him, clearly concerned.

  "What ails you?"

  Bane wiped his mouth. "The shackles are killing me."

  Sarrin looked sad, and he stood up. Rinath watched him. He could sense the intensity of her black eyes boring into him. The packs were distributed amongst the group, the soldiers forced to carry some now that they had lost two more members. Artan shouldered one himself, but did not ask Bane to carry anything. Instead he was given a torch, as were Sarrin, Ethra and Juvo. The soldiers took up their positions beside each torch bearer, and Rinath now walked alone in the centre. Artan accompanied Bane at the rear of the group, with Sarrin and Ethra leading. They travelled in the direction Artan chose, and Bane did not comment upon it. There was no way of telling which direction was the right one until the trap shifted again.

  Bane's legs ached when the ground moved, and he staggered into Artan. The stocky warrior cursed and stumbled, but kept his feet. Bane sank to his knees, his head spinning. The group stopped, and Artan stared down at Bane.

  "Which direction?"

  The Demon Lord pointed to the right. "That way."

  Artan nodded, and Bane rose to hi
s feet, his stomach heaving again. The group headed off to the right, but Bane stayed where he was.

  "Wait."

  Artan halted and looked back. "What is it?"

  "The beasts always attack right after the trap shifts. We should prepare."

  Artan signalled to his men, and they closed ranks, crossbows pointed at the gloom. Bane moved closer to Rinath, who glanced at him when he stopped beside her, and he leant closer to murmur, "Burn anything other than a beast, and I will kill you."

  Rinath glared at him, and he turned to gaze into the darkness, awaiting the first sign of the attack. The high-pitched thrumming came moments later, and then shadowy forms boiled from the darkness. Rinath raised her hands, and streams of shadow poured from her fingers, striking the horde's leaders. Three exploded in clouds of brown gore, and another two fell writhing, but the rest came on.

  Bane lowered his torch and thrust it at the rushing mass of mottled greyness that shot out of the darkness. Two more sprouted crossbow bolts in their chests, but that did not slow them. The soldiers drew their swords as the beasts reached them. Once more the group was engulfed in a frenetic melee of stabbing beaks and ripping claws. Bane leapt aside as a beast shot towards him, stumbling a little. He thrust his torch into the face of another, forcing it to veer away, and it headed for one of the soldiers. The man swung and chopped at the beast with his sword, laying open a wound in its shoulder, and it fell, flailing.

  Bane leapt backwards to avoid another beast, jabbing his torch into its flank as it shot past. It keened and vanished back into the darkness, and then he whipped around as one rushed him from behind. Rinath laid about her with the dark power, and Ethra shrieked as she was bowled over. Bane leapt towards her, smashing aside two beasts, then kicked the one that crouched over her, sending it flailing into the gloom. She rolled to her feet, lifting her torch again. Blood stained the side of her dress.

  Bane kicked another creature, and it went sprawling, then leapt up and raced away. Something hit him from the side, and he went down, rolling away as a beak struck the ground where he had been. The dark power poured from his bones, seeking to be unleashed against his foe, and the shackles burst into blinding incandescence. His torch sprayed sparks as it bounced away along the ground, and he writhed, crying out as the power flooded him with agony. His vision dimmed, and his back arched as his muscles went into a spasm.