The burly man said, “Welcome to Aberdorn, My Lord. I am Mayor Monaran.”
“I assume you know who I am. I require a place to sleep.”
“Of course, but first we have prepared -”
“First I require rest, Monaran.”
“A libation, perhaps?”
“A bed, in a private room. Do not make me ask again.”
The mayor bristled, but inclined his head and gestured to a building a little farther down the thoroughfare, one of the ancient, original structures, which resembled a crystal castle. “This way, My Lord.”
Bane followed the mayor, and Majelin wanted to accompany him, but also to explore the city. He was strangely loath to be parted from the tar’merin, perhaps because he was the only possible way out of this place, although Majelin did not expect him to find an egress while they were apart, or to leave without him. Nevertheless, letting Bane out of his sight made him uneasy.
As Bane vanished into the building, Lyrica asked, “Is he always so rude?”
Majelin smiled. “I do not know him well enough to judge, but he is tired right now, and quite fed up with the situation he finds himself in, thanks to his rescue of me.”
“Indeed. From your account, his actions are surprising, even for a tar’merin.”
“You said that if there is a way of leaving this realm it is to be found in this city. Of what did you speak?”
“Come, I will show you.”
The muttering crowd, which had started to disperse, parted to let them through, and Lyrica led the way down a wide cobbled road bordered by double-storey buildings that housed shops on the ground floors and living quarters upstairs, diamond-paned windows overlooking the street. Women in ankle-length peasant frocks with puffed sleeves and frilly necklines carried wicker shopping baskets, children at their heels, and men pushed barrows of produce or met to chat and puff pipes. Some called greetings to Lyrica, who responded with gracious nods and sweet smiles, and the society struck Majelin as strange in the extreme.
Normally, angels did not mingle with humans in such a manner, but without Channels Lyrica and her sisters had little choice, except to remain invisible all the time or leave the city. For angels, however, invisibility required constant effort, and they could not live in the forests, where the changelings would hunt them. They passed bakeries and sweet shops, clothing stores and a smithy hard at work at his forge. The city had the appearance of any other medieval town in a normal mid realm. The only odd thing about it was the lack of domesticated animals. A city such as this should abound with horses, dogs, poultry and livestock, but none were in evidence, and only the sounds of humanity filled it.
The street wound between rows of buildings towards the boundary wall, circumnavigating the spires, which Majelin was most curious about. When they rounded the last corner, he stopped dead. At the end of the street, in a gap between the shops and houses built against the cliff, was a great gate. Majelin’s heart pounded as he hurried closer to gaze up at it with a mixture of awe and relief.
“I cannot wait for Bane to see this!”
Lyrica followed him. “Will he be able to open it?”
“I do not know, but he is a god, and only a god can open a great gate.”
“He is strange. Before the changelings attacked, he had a pure aura, but when he created the portal, he appeared to be a dark god. I was a little afraid to approach him.”
“I am surprised you know about tar’merin. Not many do. Your parents told you, I assume?”
“Yes.” She gazed up at the mighty portal. “They were wise.”
“Indeed.” Majelin ran his hand over the chiselled runes that covered the ancient stone in orderly lines, wishing Bane was there to open it. “Do they still dwell in the village?”
“They are dead. It was hard for them to raise three daughters in that place, surrounded by changelings.”
“How did they manage it?”
“The fallen helped them. When my father arrived with his human doxy, a cruel and corrupted woman, he abandoned her to return to my mother, who forgave his transgression because of its reason. The fallen had slain her rapist shortly after he arrived, when they learnt how her child had been conceived. They were outraged. A young changeling was ordered to draw enough life force from her to kill the child she carried. When they are young, the changelings do as their parents bid. Soon after she lost the half-breed child, my mother conceived me, and my birth was a source of great happiness to the fallen. My sisters followed soon after. I think my parents craved the company of true angels, and the only way to have it was to give birth to us.
“Of course, the young changelings fed on us too, but the fallen kept us safe to a certain extent, as much as they could. Once we learnt to fly, we were safe. After the changelings leave their parents, they hunt animals in the forest and, of course, get life force from the humans in this city. Not many people venture into the woods, but when the changelings become hungry, they attack the city. They seldom kill, except by accident. These people live a precarious existence. They are like livestock, fostered and farmed, even protected sometimes. There have been instances when a forager became lost or injured, and the changelings brought him back to the city. We came here after the changelings killed our parents, and have dwelt here ever since; over a thousand years.”
“Why did your parents not come to the city?” Majelin asked.
“The fallen are not allowed here, because of their children. Even though my parents were not fallen, since they did not love their human partners, and had no changeling children, the people here thought allowing them to come would still set a bad example.”
“This city was built for the fallen.”
“The old city, yes,” she said. “The humans cast them out many aeons ago.”
“Will Andriss be allowed to stay?”
“For now, perhaps, because she was with you, but not if you leave her here.”
“But she is just a human, and she has no changeling child. Her mate is dead.”
“She is counted as fallen. The humans here despise those of their kind who lie with angels as much as angels despise those of our kind who do so.”
Majelin shook his head. “I hope Bane can open this gate and free you and these people. Then the fallen will be able to return to the city, and have a better life. I wondered, when I saw them in that village, how a Grey God could punish his children so harshly for a transgression born of love. Perhaps that is Bane’s true purpose here, for no other dark god would have followed the victim of that trap into it in order to save him. That is why no other dark gods have ever come here, even if many have perished in that trap.”
“Shall we take some refreshment?” She gestured to a nearby taproom and led the way to it at his nod.
The alehouse had a roaring fire in a massive hearth that warmed it, and the clean rushes on the floor gave it a fresh fragrance. A few patrons sat at polished wooden tables sipping frothy ale and making soft conversation. Lyrica took a table by the window, and a plump, rosy-cheeked serving wench approached with a tray, setting goblets of white wine in front of them with a smile.
“The humans are good to me and my sisters,” Lyrica explained when Majelin raised his eyebrows. “They feed and shelter us in return for our vigilance of the changelings in the forest. It is a traditional occupation for angels, is it not?”
“Yes, although we generally do not mingle with humans, but I understand that you have no choice here.”
“I never thought to meet an archangel, or a dark god, for that matter,” she said. “How did you lose your wings?”
Majelin sipped his wine and pulled a face at its youth, as well as the subject. “A true dark god, ironically enough. I thought I was doomed to die in the underworld, tormented by demons, until Bane came.”
She shivered. “My parents spoke of dark gods.”
“Be glad you do not have them here, although the changelings are bad enough.”
“They are vile, but at least the soldiers can ki
ll them. It keeps their numbers down, or we would be overrun.”
“I am surprised there are so many of them. Surely the fallen do not have so many children?”
She shook her head. “Not that many. The changelings breed now, too.”
“So if Bane opens this gate and frees these people…”
“The changelings will most likely wipe out the fallen, and then die out themselves. There are too many of them now. Without the people of this city to feed upon, they will starve.”
“How many people live here?”
“Many thousands,” she said. “I do not know the exact number.”
“So you have domesticated animals?”
“No, we have the Eternal Oracle.”
“Your Oracle is here, in the city?” Majelin asked, amazed.
“Yes, it is sealed within the Tower of Light.” She gazed out of the window at the radiant column. “It provides whatever we need, although we do grow crops and fruits.”
“I would like to see that.”
“No one actually sees it. The Tower of Light protects it.”
“Then I would like to see the Tower of Light.”
She smiled and sipped her wine. “And so you shall. I am sure your tame dark god will want to see it too.”
He snorted. “He is not tame, and he is certainly not mine.”
“He is more yours than anyone else’s. It must be wonderful to have such a powerful companion, and frightening too, I think.”
“He has not been in a very good mood since I met him, but he has saved my life three… four times already.”
Majelin sipped his wine and pondered what might lie beyond the gate, several unpleasant possibilities occurring to him. If it opened into the underworld, there would be no escape for these people. Bane could not Move them all to safety, although it might be possible for them to travel through the dark realm if he protected them. Majelin was not sure just how much the Demon Lord was prepared to do, since he was already annoyed at the amount of trouble rescuing Majelin had caused him. If the gate opened into an area deep in the dark realm, the heat and toxic atmosphere would make it impossible to leave this realm. Considering how he and Bane had come here, and from where, that seemed a likely prospect. He wondered what had happened to Andriss, who had disappeared somewhere along the way, but presumably someone had taken her to lodgings. Either that or she had followed Bane and found somewhere to rest close to him. Someone would take care of her, he was sure. Now they just had to wait for Bane to wake up.
Lyrica drained her wine. “I think you need a bath and a meal, perhaps some rest, too?”
“That would be most welcome.”
Chapter Six
Great Gate
Bane woke with a pounding headache and a sour taste in his mouth, both of which he attributed to the changelings’ attack. He levered himself up on the soft, fur-covered bed and surveyed his surroundings. The humans had done well for themselves in this odd realm, it seemed. The bedchamber boasted carved wooden furnishings, red velvet curtains and shaggy carpets. Sunlight slanted in through clear crystal windows in the glowing cloudy crystal walls.
The ancient building appeared to have been grown rather than built, its entire structure formed from a single crystal. He surmised that only a Grey God could do something like that. He was becoming rather tired of Grey Gods’ wonders, especially ones that hampered him. He swung his legs off the bed, donned his clothes, stretched and headed for the door, wondering if breakfast would be offered.
Servants bowed and stepped out of his path in the gleaming corridors, and within minutes the annoyingly smug Mayor Monaran popped out of a doorway and guided him to a dining hall, where serving girls plied him with eggs, smoked meat, porridge and hot milk flavoured with targa berries. The mayor took a seat opposite and picked at a plate of eggs and meat, staring at Bane with irritating intensity. Before Bane grew annoyed enough to rebuke him for it, his plump wife and pudgy daughter joined them and made boring conversation, which Bane ignored. The womenfolk looked to be outfitted in their finest gowns, bedecked with ribbons and bows, and the daughter even had rouged cheeks and coiffed hair. She cringed and turned red every time Bane glanced at her, so he concentrated on his food. Evidently news of his awakening spread swiftly, for Majelin and Lyrica joined the breakfast bunch before Bane finished his meal.
Majelin looked excited, and a lot cleaner, his hair washed, brushed and cut at shoulder length, his pale skin scrubbed and his breechclout laundered. All he needed now, Bane thought, were his wings, and he would be quite impressive.
The archangel sat beside the mayor and leant across the table to speak to Bane. “There is a great gate here.”
Bane picked up his cup of hot milk and sipped it, deciding that it tasted like goat’s milk. “Every realm has to have at least one gate, I think.”
“But it is a way out, is it not?”
“That depends on where it goes.”
Majelin nodded, his expression becoming a little grim. “I have considered the possibility that it leads somewhere horrible, but once you are outside this realm you will be able to Move, right?”
“I hope so. But if it leads into an inferno or dark place I will not be able to take many with me, and I assume everyone in this city wishes to go.”
“Naturally.”
“And doubtless there are thousands of them.”
“I believe so,” Majelin said.
“But, as Lyrica has already pointed out, this place was created as a prison, by a Grey God. Chances are, he made sure no one can go through that gate save a god, even if it is opened.”
“Perhaps an angel, too?”
“Possibly.”
The archangel shot a glance at Lyrica. “Then perhaps once we are outside we can tell Ordur about what has happened here, so he can rectify the situation.”
Bane wiped his lips with a napkin and tossed it on the table. “Let us go and have a look at this gate.”
Everyone rose with a scraping of chairs when Bane stood up, and an eager bunch dogged his footsteps out of the castle. As he followed Majelin through the town towards the boundary cliff, more and more people joined the throng behind him. Merchants abandoned their shops and labourers downed tools, artisans set aside their creations and shoppers lost interest in wares. By the time Bane reached the gate, half the city seemed to be tramping in his wake, while the other half converged via other streets as word spread.
Majelin motioned to a towering portal with a triumphant smile, and the murmuring crowd fell silent as Bane approached the great gate, whose air of ancient power made his scalp prickle a little. It reminded him of the one in Lyriasharin’s domain, probably because it had also been created by a Grey God. Little differences leapt out at him, like the utter orderliness of the decorative lines and runic sequences, all of which were written in the language of the gods, like the ring of stones.
What struck him as truly odd was that five runes in the frame above the gate were lighted, but too high up for him to make out. The portal was not as massive as previous realm gates he had encountered, either, and he read the runes that covered it.
“This realm gate is ancient,” he informed Majelin.
“How do you know?”
“The runes.” Bane frowned. “And I know what is on the other side of it.”
“What?”
“White wards.”
Kayos straightened, scowling at the Eye. “Bane… Do not try to open that gate!”
Sherinias stared at him, her eyes wide. “What is wrong, Father?”
“Surely it is his only way out?” Drevarin enquired.
“No,” Kayos said. “There is no way out of a sealed world.”
Drevarin gazed into the Eye, where Bane stood in front of the gate. “So if he tries to open it…?”
“He will trigger the wards. He might be able to evade them, but they will destroy that city and most of its inhabitants. If he is hit, it will kill him instantly.” Kayos hesitated. “He might be able to shield h
imself from one or two hits, but more than that…”
He glanced at Mirra, who sat at the table with Mithran and Grem, awaiting news of her husband. She met his gaze, and he winced inwardly at the anguish in her eyes. He said, “Bane has a key, and that gate also has the runes that once opened it, but neither method will work now; they will merely activate the wards.”
“Is there a way to warn him, at least?” Drevarin asked.
“There is, but Bane will have to do it.”
“So we just have to hope he will think of it?”
Kayos sighed, rubbing his brow. “He is clever.”
President Randoman looked up at the two identical, pugnacious-looking individuals who stood in his office, wondering how they had got in. He had not heard the door open or close, and his assistant, who usually showed visitors in, was not in evidence. When he had checked his appointments that morning, he could have sworn he was supposed to be meeting his minister of defence, but now his screen showed an appointment with two businessmen with an unpronounceable name. They did not look much like businessmen, being clad in shiny grey suits that pimps or gigolos usually wore, along with a surfeit of gold jewellery. Their appointment had a note saying that they had a solution to the escalating troubles in Bayona, which included attacks by strange creatures in rural areas, people disappearing at a phenomenal rate and sightings of apparitions that had caused panics in some cities.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” he said as he rose and offered his hand across the desk.
One man approached and took it in a powerful grip. “Good to meet you, President Randoman.”
When Angels Fall (Demon Lord) Page 10