Demon Lord V - God Realm

by T C Southwell

  Artan spun around as brilliant light flooded the scene, and the beasts fled back into the darkness, two bursting into flames. Bane writhed on the ground, his eyes screwed shut and his face twisted. Rinath swung and punched the soldier closest to her, knocked him senseless and snatched up his sword. Artan ran after her as she marched over to Bane and raised the weapon high. Sarrin gave a cry of anguish and flung herself at the demigoddess, but Rinath sent her sprawling with a casual flick of her hand. Artan reached her as she brought the sword down, and plunged his weapon into her back. Dark power burst from her and flung him backwards, pain exploding in his face and hands. Rinath coughed and fell to her knees, dropping the sword to clasp the blade that protruded from her chest.

  Artan rolled on the ground in agony, but raised his head. A soldier with a wound in his belly picked up his fallen sword and staggered to his feet. Rinath stared at her bloody hands, clearly unable to believe her eyes. The man walked up beside her and plunged his weapon into her chest. She fell backwards with a choked cry, raised her hands and unleashed a bolt of shadow at him. He collapsed with a grunt, dead before he hit the ground, a blackened hole burnt in his chest. Rinath gripped the sword hilt and tried to pull it out. Artan struggled to rise to his feet, his legs rubbery. Ethra ran over to Rinath and hit her over the head with her torch.

  The demigoddess collapsed in a spray of sparks, and the torch went out. The light from Bane's manacles illuminated a scene of devastation, and the only person on her feet was Ethra, who stood over the fallen goddess. Juvo was hunched over on the edge of the pool of light, his torch on the ground beside him, and the other soldier lay nearby. Bane writhed and groaned, but the light from his manacles dimmed. Artan stumbled over to him and fell to his knees beside Sarrin. She still breathed, and he gave a sigh of relief, turning to Ethra.

  "Relight the torches. Quick before the light goes."

  The girl picked up her torch and went over to one of the packs to find the tinderbox. Artan turned to Bane, wincing as the light from the shackles stabbed his eyes. The dark god writhed, his lips drawn back and his eyes screwed shut, his hands clawing at the dust. Leaving him to fight his internal battle, Artan rose and approached Juvo. The burly man was winded, but otherwise unharmed, and the soldier who lay nearby was unconscious. The man Rinath had knocked out was coming around, clutching his chin and groaning. Artan returned to Bane's side and found that Rinath still lived, but would soon die of blood loss. Ethra relighted the torches and planted them in the ground before she re-joined Artan, gazing in concern at his reddened hands and face.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Better than him." Artan nodded at the dead soldier.

  "You should have killed her. You should kill him too, while he's helpless."

  Artan shot her a hard look. "Didn't I see him save your worthless hide again just now?"

  "More fool him."

  "So it seems.

  The light from the shackles dimmed to a soft glow, and Bane relaxed, his skin sheened with sweat. Juvo dragged the unconscious soldier into the centre of the torches, and they made camp. By the time Sarrin woke, Juvo had moved Rinath's body and that of the soldier to the edge of the pool of light. The old priestess smeared Artan's burnt hands and face with salve and bound his hands with cloth torn from the dead priestess’ spare robe. They sat around the fire and ate charred meat while they waited for Bane to wake.

  Bane drifted up from the darkness, becoming aware of the pain that now lived in him like a malignant entity. He groaned and rolled onto his side as his empty stomach heaved stinging bile into his throat. The man on guard woke Sarrin, who brought a flask of water over and pressed it to Bane's lips. He swallowed a little, then his stomach heaved again, and he turned his head away. Sarrin gazed at him with concern.

  "You are in a lot of pain."

  Bane grimaced. "Yes."

  "If you were not tar'merin, and I offered to remove the shackles in return for your aid to escape this trap, would you agree?"

  "Yes, but I would kill you all as soon as I regained my powers if I was not tar'merin. You cannot make such a bargain with a dark god. They would not honour it."

  She nodded, looking sad. "But if you die we will never escape, and then we will all perish anyway."

  "Yes."

  "I shall speak to Artan when he wakes."

  Bane nodded and closed his eyes, drifting into a restless doze. When he woke again, Juvo examined the cuff on his right wrist while Artan watched him with a mixture of hope and doubt. Ethra scowled and poked the fire with obvious anger. Sarrin looked resigned. Juvo turned the cuff, seeking a weak spot. He tugged at it, trying to pull it off, but it would not fit over Bane's hand. Finally he placed the cuff on a flat rock and set the edge of a sword against it, hammering it with another stone. The sword's edge soon blunted, but it did not so much as scratch the shackle's smooth surface. He gave up, and Bane went back to sleep.

  When Bane woke again he was a little stronger, and they broke camp. Artan handed him a torch and a sword, and walked beside him at the rear of the group. A couple of hours later the ground shifted, and Bane stumbled sideways and sprawled. Artan helped him up.

  "Which way?"

  Bane pointed to the left. "Over there."

  Artan's brows rose. "You're sure?"

  "Yes."

  The group closed ranks in anticipation of the dark beasts' attack. It came moments later, preceded by the high pitched thrumming. Bane knew that the group could not withstand another attack. They were too few now, and injured and exhausted. Gritting his teeth, he allowed the dark power to seep into his flesh. The cuffs flared as the mottled grey beasts shot from the gloom, and they veered away to vanish back into the darkness as swiftly as they had appeared. Bane groaned and sank to his knees, his flesh on fire. Artan turned to him with a look of amazement, swapping a glance with Sarrin.

  Even Ethra looked surprised, and Bane struggled to thrust the dark fire back into his bones, sweat popping out on his brow. The cuffs dimmed, and Artan gestured to his men, who gripped Bane's arms and hauled him to his feet. With their help he stumbled on, groaning as his muscles spasmed. When the ground shifted again, less than an hour later, all three stumbled sideways as Bane's connection with the trap's power pulled him. He pointed to the right, and the group veered in that direction as he let the power seep from his bones again, making the shackles flare. The soldiers retched and almost dropped him, growling curses. He glimpsed the dark beasts in the gloom, but they did not brave the light.

  The soldiers dragged Bane along, bowed under his weight, while he barely moved his legs. The trap shifted again only minutes later, but the light from the shackles kept the beasts away. Over the next hour the trap shifted many times, first in one direction, and then the other, but Bane kept them going straight. The dark beasts raced around them almost constantly, yet did not enter the light, and Bane allowed the dark power to remain in his flesh to keep the shackles alight. The soldiers tired swiftly with the added hardship of enduring the dark power's sickening influence, and they were forced to stop and rest. The men lowered Bane to the ground as Sarrin knelt beside him and pressed a water flask to his lips.

  He turned his head away. "I cannot."

  "You must."

  "It will do me no good."

  She stoppered the flask. "How long can you keep this up?"

  "Not long."

  Sarrin gazed into the darkness, glimpsing grey shapes moving around them just beyond the light. "They are right here, all around us."

  "They are desperate to stop us."

  Sarrin rose and approached Artan. "We must keep moving. You and Juvo must carry Bane now."

  Artan nodded, beckoning to Juvo, and they hauled Bane to his feet once more. They retched and cursed as the soldiers had done, but endured the illness. The trap shifted again and again, sending the men staggering this way and that, and Artan no longer needed to ask which direction to take. The dark beasts followed, staying just beyond the light. When Artan and Juvo staggered wit
h exhaustion, and it seemed that they would be forced to stop and rest, a grey wall appeared ahead of them. The sight of it lent the men strength, and they shuffled towards it as fast as they could. They entered a thick, noxious grey mist, which made everyone cough and retch except Bane. As soon as they entered it, the dark beasts vanished.

  Bane barely noticed the change in terrain. It took all his concentration to prevent the black fire from consuming his flesh, while he fought to stay conscious in spite of the agony. He was dimly aware of Sarrin telling him that the beasts were gone, repeating it over and over while she coughed and gagged. When it penetrated the haze of pain, he leashed the power with torturous effort. Little by little, he forced the malignant fire in quiescence. The burning in his blood cooled, and then darkness washed over him in a blessed tide.

  Artan cursed as Bane sagged, his knees almost buckling under the sudden increase in weight. He had thought that they were already carrying Bane, but apparently they were not. Stumbling to a halt, he called the two soldiers and ordered them to take Bane's legs. The stinging grey mist made his eyes water and his throat burn, and he did not wish to linger in it. The others clearly shared his wish, for the soldiers lifted Bane's legs and set off through the mist at a quick shamble. Ethra came to walk beside the struggling quartet, eyeing Bane with deep loathing.

  "We're out of the trap, Artan. Leave him."

  He shot her a scathing look. "You're a real little cow, you know that?"

  "He's a god. He'll manage without us."

  "He helped us, and now we're going to help him."

  She coughed and wiped her eyes. "When he recovers, you'll regret it."

  "We'll see."

  It seemed like an age that they stumbled through the grey mist, their skin burning and reddening as it settled on it. Just when Artan thought they would have to abandon Bane to save themselves, it lightened, then dissipated, and they stumbled into a dull orange landscape. Artan drew in a gasp of clean air, and the group halted, lowering Bane to the ground.

  Sarrin poured water onto a cloth and they wiped their burning skin, then she knelt beside Bane. He appeared to have suffered no ill effects from the corrosive mist, which made Ethra snort with anger. Nevertheless, he was pale and gaunt, his eyes sunken and his skin dewed with sweat. The shackles' light had dimmed to a pale glimmer, but when Sarrin looked more closely at them, she gasped in dismay. The skin of Bane's wrists was blackened, and when she pulled up his sleeves she found red streaks running up his arms. She called Artan over, and he studied the marks with a frown, then glanced at her and sighed.

  "It seems we could have saved ourselves the trouble of carrying him out here after all."

  "We have to get the shackles off."

  "How? We've tried."

  "There must be a way."

  Artan shook his head. "Perhaps not. Armorgan would not have wished to free his foe if he had managed to trap him with these."

  Sarrin bowed her head, surprised to find her eyes burning again, and not from the mist. "I am convinced that he is tar'merin, Artan."

  "Well I'm not. He saved us, yes, but he saved himself too."

  She frowned at him. "If you had not put the shackles on him, he would have been in no danger from that place."

  "And he wouldn't have helped us then, I'll wager."

  "You do not know that."

  Artan threw up his hands. "What do you want me to do? I'm prepared to help him as much as I can, but I can't get those damn things off."

  "We must find a way, before he dies."

  "We'll be lucky if we manage to stay alive in this place."

  Sarrin gazed at Bane. "I believe a light god could help him."

  "I'm sure they could, if they were so inclined. We could use their help too, you know, but I don't see any crawling out of the woodwork around here."

  "Bane called this the God Realm, which would seem to imply that gods live here."

  Artan snorted. "Yes, nasty ones."

  "Then we must find a good one."

  "How?"

  "Pray."

  He glared at her. "Armorgan's dead."

  "No, to Kayos, Bane's former companion."

  "Fine, you do that. But I'm not going to count on one of the seven Grey Gods coming to his aid, or ours. I find that rather hard to believe."

  Ethra walked up behind them. "Let's just kill him."

  "You stay out of it!" Artan bellowed, then jumped up and stalked away to join his men.

  Kayos paused, glancing back. He had passed through the white clouds and into another barren rocky area, common in the God Realm. His pursuer had gained on him, and now he could discern it in the distance. Its dark, lupine form was unmistakeable, and yellow eyes glowed in its massive, sharp muzzled head. A Demon Hound. Somewhere behind it, its master followed, a dark god hunting him as if he was a deer. He could escape by taking shelter in a domain, or within his shields, or he could try to outrun it. His salvation lay somewhere ahead, in the form of a tar'merin with the power to protect him, if he could find him in time. He glanced at the trio of humans who sagged on their steeds, looking exhausted. There was no time for rest stops, however, if they were going to find Bane in time, and they knew it as well as him. He swung away and took to the air again.

  Bane stumbled after the ragged group, his feet dragging. According to Sarrin, he had been comatose for a long time after they had carried him out of the trap, and he had been surprised that they had not abandoned him as soon as they no longer needed the shackles' light. The sickness ate at him and the blackness spread up his arms, patches appearing on his legs as well. The pain was constant and enervating, sapping his will and energy, and he just wanted to lie down and die. His stomach was a tight, empty knot, and at times his mind wandered in feverish delusions.

  Someone took hold of his arm and steered him back the way he had come, and he realised that the group had stopped, but he had wandered on. Sarrin smiled when he glanced at her, reminding him of Ellese. She guided him to a rock and urged him to sit down and lean against it, which he did. The group ate a frugal meal of charred meat, and then settled down to sleep. Bane slid down the rock until his head was propped against it and closed his eyes.

  A presence close by roused him from his restless doze, and he opened his eyes. Ethra squatted beside him, fingering her rusty dagger. He licked his lips and smiled.

  "Go ahead. Kill me. It will be a mercy... although..." He frowned, sorrow filling his heart. "My wife will mourn me."

  "You have a wife?"

  "Yes."

  Ethra studied him. "Do you love her?"

  "More than life itself. She saved me, loved me, and forgave me." His eyelids drooped. "She will be sad. She wants children, but as a spirit god I can give her none." He tugged at his shirt, trying to pull it open. "Strike. End my misery."

  Ethra stared at him. He seemed half asleep, his long black lashes shadowing brilliant eyes. Their gaze was vacant, yet filled with sorrow. As she watched, they closed, and he sighed.

  "I miss her," he whispered.

  Ethra swallowed a lump, cursing her stupidity. He was a dark god, a consummate liar, so why did she find him so believable? For just that reason, she told herself. Yet he seemed so forlorn. His jet hair fell in glossy wings, stark against his alabaster skin. His striking face was almost too perfect, but not quite, for he bore the marks of his suffering. Lines furrowed the skin between his sharply angled brows, and shadows of weariness lurked under his eyes. He looked gaunt and sick, and she found that she wanted to help him more than she wanted to kill him. Was he casting some sort of spell on her? His eyes opened and flicked up to her face, filled with misery and suffering.

  "I am dying anyway, and it hurts. I have suffered enough."

  She frowned. "What are you?"

  "I am a god who loves a mortal, and time will take her away. The day we were wed she wore wild flowers in her hair, and the sun turned it to spun gold... Her goddess came, and our friends." A faint smile curled his lips, and his eyes became distant. "Sh
e looked like an angel, so young, so lovely. I spoke the words that bound us, and I made a rainbow shine in the sky. She told me that it was beautiful, and that... she loved me."

  Ethra gulped, fighting the tears that threatened to overflow her eyes. He was rambling, she realised, his mind fogged by pain.

  "We were wed in the forest," he went on, his voice barely more than a whisper. "The beasts came too. We drank wine and feasted on sweet fruit and nectar. I gave her ambrosia, and she said it tasted like sunshine... We were happy." He sighed, his eyes drifting closed. "She is my life... and... my saviour..."

  Ethra jumped up and marched away.

  Chapter Five

  Fall

  When the group broke camp, Sarrin spent several minutes trying to rouse Bane before his eyes opened. She coaxed him to his feet, and he stood swaying, gazing into the distance. His hands were black now, and streaks of red ran up the sides of his neck. Ethra watched him from the other side of the camp, biting her lip. She jumped when Artan spoke beside her.

  "What, aren't you going to tell me to kill him?"

  "No."

  "I suppose there's no point. He isn't going to live much longer. A normal man would have been dead long ago. Sad that we cannot help him, after all he did for us. And he knew we couldn't." He shook his head. "But it's not for the likes of me to kill a god."

  The ground shivered, and Ethra glanced at Artan in alarm. He frowned at the dull orange dust at his feet, then muttered an oath and ran towards Sarrin and Bane. Ethra set off after him as the ground shivered again, making her stagger. A dull rumbling filled the air, and Sarrin cried out, trying to drag Bane towards the rest of the group. With a grating of soil and rock, the earth beneath Bane's feet ripped open. He staggered back, and his foot slipped off the edge of the crevasse. For a moment he teetered, waving his arms, then he flung himself forward, but his other foot slid into the crevasse and his hips hit the edge as he fell.