When Angels Fall (Demon Lord)

by Southwell, T C

  Torvaran came at him with a black blade, his eyes glittering. Majelin braced himself for the pain as the dark god thrust the dagger into his side and drew it up his ribs, cutting a long gash that oozed blue blood. Torvaran leant closer and glared into archangel’s eyes, smirking.

  “Why do you not cry out, archangel?” he growled. “Or fight me. You are not being very entertaining.”

  Majelin summoned the Sword of Vengeance and slashed at the dark god, who skipped back, chortling. The chains limited Majelin’s reach, but he was able to keep his enemy at bay to a certain extent. It bought him a little respite, but also delighted Torvaran, who revelled in Majelin’s futile defiance. The archangel glared at his foe.

  “Come closer, so I can lop off your head, you cowardly scum.”

  “That cannot harm me, puny angel. Your sword is useless against me.”

  “Why do you avoid it, then? I would cut out your heart, if you had one, but you are naught but dead dirt, a slave of the darkness, its minion! I would slice off your limbs and watch the white fire consume you, if you were not too craven to stray within my reach.”

  Torvaran laughed. “And you are a weakling! Rattle your chains and wave your sword, angel. I enjoy seeing you try so hard to be brave, while you cringe within.”

  Majelin swung the sword and clipped the dark god’s shoulder. Torvaran guffawed, lunged and stabbed Majelin in the heart. He grunted and sagged, striving to show no weakness, and the wound healed.

  “Your immortality is your curse,” Torvaran said. “Because of it, you will be my plaything forever.”

  Majelin jerked awake, sat up and glanced around. Pale light slanted through the forest, and Bane sat staring into the distance.

  He turned to cock an eyebrow at the archangel. “You talk in your sleep.”

  Majelin rubbed his face. “Uh… What did I say?”

  “A lot of threats and promises to do grave bodily harm, presumably to your former torturers.”

  “That would be a fair assumption.”

  Bane gazed into the forest again. “We should go to this stream you found, capture one of the villagers and make them show us where the portal is.”

  Majelin nodded. With a dark god at his side, he should be safe, and he no longer cared if Bane razed the village and wiped out the changelings. The memory of the nightmare lingered, making it almost unbearable to be in the company of a dark god. It helped a little that Bane no longer possessed the strange, pale-rimmed dark aura, which had been hard to discern in the underworld cavern. Now, his aura was as pure as a light god’s, but the knowledge of his dark side tainted that. Majelin had once revered the legends of tar’merin, and still did, to a certain extent. That did not mean it was easy to trust one, after his experience in the underworld. His recent degradation at the hands of dark creatures had also increased his antipathy towards anything that claimed kindred to the darkness.

  “I cannot even hear prayers here,” Bane remarked.

  “Is that significant?”

  “It could be. Whatever wards guard this place must be truly impenetrable.” He rose to his feet. “Come on, I am eager to quit this hellhole.”

  Majelin guided the tar’merin back to the stream, which was deserted, and they settled down to wait for someone to come. After a couple of hours, Andriss appeared on the path, buckets in hand. Apparently she was the village’s main water bearer. Bane waited until she filled her buckets before he rose and stepped into the open. Majelin followed, more confident now that Bane was in charge. Andriss shrieked, dropped the buckets and fled, but Bane overtook her in a few strides, caught her arm and jerked her to a halt. She let out an ear-splitting scream before he clamped a hand over her mouth, and she struggled like a wild cat. Pinning her to his chest, he dragged her into the forest, pushed her against a tree trunk and frowned at her.

  “I will let you go if you swear not to scream.”

  Her eyes darted, white-ringed, but she nodded.

  Bane released her and stepped back. “You will take us to the portal. If you attempt to run or scream, I will stop you, and I can, very easily.”

  She looked ready to bolt, but stood still, licking her lips. “You-you’re the blue mage?”

  “If that is what he told you, it will do. Get moving.”

  Andriss shot the archangel a half-amazed, half-accusing look and led them upstream, casting many glances over her shoulder at Bane. Majelin wondered at her fear, for it seemed too intense for a blue mage to inspire. Perhaps she recognised Bane for what he truly was, even without his power, but if she could do that, it meant she had met a dark god before, which seemed unlikely.

  Only a few grassy clearings and an occasional lake broke the woodland’s monotony, and it lacked wildlife. Apart from the carolling birds that flitted amongst the branches, he only glimpsed a deer and a fox. The place had an eerie ambience, he decided, even though it was ostensibly nothing more than a verdant, almost uninhabited land. Perhaps because he knew that changelings hunted here, and every shadow and rustling bush alarmed him.

  After about three hours, Andriss led them into a clearing with a ring of dolmens at its centre and gestured to it. “There. We all wake up in the centre of that.”

  Bane studied it. “You do not remember how you got into it?”

  “No.”

  “So, you were taken while you slept.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “It was not a question.” Bane approached the stones, passing through the ring to stop beside the weathered altar stone in the middle. He ran his hand over it, and where he touched it runes became visible, glowing with soft blue light.

  “What is it?” Majelin asked.

  “I am unsure.” Bane examined the runes, frowning. “It is ancient… possibly predating this domain.” Going over to the ring, he ran his hand over a standing stone, igniting blue runes in it. The surface of the stones, Majelin realised, was so weathered that the carved runes had long since been obliterated.

  The Demon Lord snatched his hand away with an oath and strode out of the ring.

  The archangel hurried after him. “What is it?”

  Bane stopped and turned to frown at the ring. “That is not blue power, it is white, and it was created by a Grey God.”

  Majelin’s jaw dropped. “How do you know that?”

  “I sensed it, and the runes are written in the language of the gods.”

  “But the light in the runes looked blue to me.”

  “It is fading. Whatever power source kept the portal active is almost depleted, and soon it will not work anymore.”

  “Thank the stars for that,” Andriss muttered.

  Bane swung on her. “Why? So your blighted offspring can wipe out domains?”

  “They would not!”

  “They are soul eaters. They would rampage through worlds, draining their inhabitants to death, if they were not confined here. One of the Grey Gods did this, perhaps Ordur, to prevent that from happening, but you know better?”

  She looked uncertain and wary. “So can you make it take us out of here?”

  “No.” Bane marched off.

  Majelin caught up and fell into step beside him. “Where are we going now?”

  “To the boundary.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it holds the answer to escaping this place.”

  “How so?”

  “This place is more than just ancient,” Bane said, “it is from the Times of Reckoning, when the Grey Gods started forming domains and created the first humans. Angels were already around, and apparently one fell in love with a human. Their child was doubtless the reason Ordur created this place for them, and I guess they lived out their lives here. I would imagine Ordur predicted more offspring of angel-human relationships and set up that portal, which is, in fact, a Fetch. A white one, which I did not know existed, and should not, because it robs whoever it snatches of their free will, a fundamental right the Grey Gods gave to every living thing. In this case, though, it was warranted, to keep the o
ther worlds safe. If those changelings got loose, they would not only kill people and angels, they would breed, and overrun domains.

  “Here, they cannot; there are not enough resources. That Fetch locates changelings in the womb and brings them and their parents here. It is a punishment of sorts, I suppose, and to ensure the children have parents to feed on. Only a Grey God could have created a Fetch like that one, able to jump from domain to domain throughout the God Realm. Usually, a Fetch has a fixed entry point, but then, I know little about the white power.

  “When Pretarin created his domain, he unwittingly incorporated this place into it, and since then I think the domain has been draining the Oracle that powers this place. It is almost depleted. I do not have to tell you what will happen then, although hopefully Ordur will step in and create another place like this when he realises what has happened, but probably not before some changelings are born outside.”

  Majelin digested this for several minutes, stunned. “How can an Oracle become drained? I did not think that was possible.”

  “Neither did I, but this is a weird place and its Oracle is ancient. Perhaps two Oracles cannot exist so close to each other.”

  “What do you think we are going to find at the boundary?”

  “The wards that hide this place,” Bane said.

  “And then?”

  “I will have to deactivate them and form a Gateway to get us out of here.”

  “Will that not allow others to escape, or enter?” the angel asked.

  “No. Only those who have their Eyes upon it will see it, but the inhabitants do not have the power to escape it. The wards will only be inactive for a few minutes.”

  “So this place has no realm gate?”

  Bane glanced at him. “Perhaps. I do not know. I think it is more like a mid realm.” His eyes focussed on something behind Majelin, and he stopped and swung around.

  The archangel also halted and turned. Andriss stood a few paces away, looking nervous.

  “Why do you follow us?” Bane asked. “Go back to your village.”

  “Please take me with you. I don’t belong here. I have no child.”

  “That does not make you innocent,” Majelin said. “You conceived one.”

  Bane eyed him. “How could she have known about changelings outside when none are ever born there, unless someone told her?”

  “Angels know, and her mate told her. She told me they hoped to have many years before they were cursed with a changeling child.”

  Andriss bowed her head. “We didn’t know we’d be sent here. Fyrth said our child would be cursed, and drain our spirits for the rest of our lives, that’s all!”

  Bane raised his brows. “And that was not enough?”

  “We loved each other! Do you know what that’s like?”

  “Oddly enough, I do.” He turned and continued through the forest. “But you are not coming with us, so go back to your village.”

  “Please!” she wailed. “It’s not like I’m going to do it again!”

  Majelin caught up with Bane. “You know, if she goes back, she could tell the changelings, and they might find us before you make the Gateway.”

  Bane stopped again and looked back. “If she comes with us, she will tell others about this place. Even demons do not come here. If a dark god hears the tale, he might release the changelings.”

  “Could he? And would the Fetch not bring them back if they escaped?”

  “Only until it runs out of power; and yes, of course a dark god could open a Gateway, just as I am going to do.”

  “But he would have to do it from inside, right?”

  “No. Gateways can bring or send, as their creator wishes.” Bane frowned at Andriss, who sniffled and shuffled her feet. “All right… but I will have to remove her memories of this place once we are free of it. That is the only way to keep the secret safe.”

  “I am sure she will be glad to forget it.”

  “Yes, and she will probably commit her folly again and end up right back here.”

  “Perhaps not, if you warn her about it,” Majelin said. “Anyway, the chances of her meeting and falling in love with another angel, and of him falling in love with her, are slim to none. It is not like it happens all that often. These people come from all over the God Realm, and yet there are only about twenty couples in the village, so it is extremely rare.”

  “True. Angels consider humans beneath them.”

  “Well… they are rather… ordinary, compared to us.”

  Bane smiled. “You are a snob, Majelin.”

  “You disagree?”

  “Oh, your kind is certainly more interesting, and more annoying, I find.” Bane beckoned to Andriss, who hurried up to them, her eyes full of hope. “You may come,” he said, “but I shall wipe out your memories of your beloved and this place once we leave it, understand? If you want to keep those memories, you will have to stay here.”

  “No, I want to leave. Many of my memories are horrible. I’ll be glad to forget them.” She paused, her expression becoming distant. “Soon after we got there, one of the changelings decided that he wanted me for himself, and took too much life force from me, to kill my child. He said that if I didn’t give up Fyrth and go with him, he’d kill Fyrth, too. Fyrth tried to protect me, and Morphus killed him. He still pursued me, even then, even though I told him I’d rather die than be his, and… I killed him. The changelings hate me because of that, so they make my life hell.”

  A heavy silence fell while Bane studied the girl, wondering what it was about her that had inspired an angel to love her, then he raised his brows at Majelin. “That is a lot of killing.”

  The archangel nodded. “Love can do that. I am sure you would do whatever it took to protect your wife, just as I would to protect mine. I will never understand angels who fall in love with humans, though. They know the consequences, yet they do it anyway.”

  “Could you have avoided falling in love with your wife?”

  “No…” Majelin sighed and shook his head. “I suppose they are happy until the first child comes. Angels fall in love forever, but humans only live a short time, so they spend the rest of their lives alone in this place.”

  “They have their children,” Bane said.

  “Oh, I am sure they are a great comfort.”

  “Indeed.” Bane set off through the forest once more.

  Majelin would have followed, but Andriss caught his arm and asked, “How can a blue mage wipe out memories?”

  “I do not know. Do I look like an expert on blue mages?”

  Majelin shook her off and strode after the dark god. She was no fool, he sensed, but she would find out what Bane truly was when he opened the Gateway. Then it would be too late for her to run back to her village with the information.

  Chapter Five

  Hidden World

  Kayos sat back and ran a hand over his hair, scowling at the Eye.

  Drevarin glanced at him. “What is it?”

  “I know where they are. Those standing stones… It is a place called Arvandeth, which means ‘hidden world’. Ordur created it as a prison, and its inmates must never be freed. They are extremely dangerous.”

  “Could Bane free them when he tries to get out?”

  “No, but he will reveal it for a moment.”

  “And dark gods might see it,” Drevarin said. “What are the inmates?”

  “An unforeseen and unfortunate result of love’s power: angel-human hybrids. They are soul eaters.”

  “By the light… Could the Grey Gods not have prevented such a thing?”

  “No, but we rectified it. Angels and humans are worlds apart in some ways, but a fundamental part of their blueprint is similar. Arvandeth was created to house them, since we did not know what to expect. The possibility that they would be dangerous was taken into account, and they and their parents were imprisoned there. There is no way out of that place that I know of. Ordur made sure of it. Bane is trapped.”

  “Could Ordur no
t free him?”

  “I do not know. I did not participate in Arvandeth’s creation. It is possible that Ordur has a key, but even if I send him a message, by the time he gets here, Tolrar, Jerriss and Scryon will have risen again.”

  “So… is there nothing you can do to help Bane?”

  Kayos glanced at Mirra, who gazed at him with deep anguish, and silently cursed the seemingly innocuous series of events that had led to this disastrous end, starting with Majelin’s fall. Fate sometimes conspired to enmesh gods in particularly convoluted events for reasons that only became clear after much strife. He sensed that this was one such situation, and wished that his dark son had not attracted fate’s attention.

  “Not at the moment,” he said. “Several millennia after its creation, Arvandeth vanished completely. Even the Grey Gods who knew where it was could not find it. We could only surmise that the angel-human hybrids had become so dangerous that Carthius, the light god chosen to watch over them, had sealed it. No one has found Arvandeth since then, and the only reason I can see within it now is because my Eye has followed Bane there. Arvandeth is far older than this domain, and this Oracle did not sense it because it is hidden. It is so ancient, in fact, that it was created in the old way, with the light realm on the same plain of existence as the mid realm, sealed off by a world gate. It has a dark realm, but it is not a true domain.”

  Bane arrived at the boundary as the pseudo-sun sank beyond the forest, and stared at it, fascinated. It appeared to be a ball of white fire somehow bound to the outer boundary, and he surmised that it travelled underground during the night to emerge on the far side of the realm each morning. Similar to a domain, but on a far smaller scale and without the vast area of space around it that formed the sky. He would have liked to study it more closely, but the pressing issue of escaping this place before its inhabitants found them prevented him.

  Turning his attention to the sheer cliff of black stone that rose from the forest floor to be swallowed by the haze high above, he strolled along it, searching for the runes that formed the wards. Majelin and Andriss trailed him, both apparently too tired after the long trek to ask questions or make observations. The trio had stopped to rest twice along the way, slaked their thirst in streams and lakes and picked wild fruit to eat. The realm was quite vast, so it was fortunate that the village and portal were fairly close to the boundary. The cliff was not as weathered as the ring of dolmans, and after half an hour or so of walking he spotted a sequence of runes carved deep into the rock, just within reach. Bane stopped beneath them and ran his hand over them, causing them to ignite with sullen blue fire that faded slowly when he removed his hand. The simplicity of the wards surprised him somewhat. They owed their power to their creator, not to the intricacy of the binding they placed upon this realm, and he suspected that they had been woven into the ley lines.