When Angels Fall (Demon Lord)

by Southwell, T C

  Bane stepped through the doorway and stopped, exhaling a cloud of steam. The gloom was complete, save for a beam of light deep within the structure, where the pillar of white power entered it. That in itself was odd. Something that bright should have illuminated the entire interior. It was almost as if shadows thickened the air. Numerous columns and some odd shapes where silhouetted against the light, and he became aware of a soft radiance coming from the floor. Blue fire licked at his boots, as it did in a light realm or on hallowed ground, so there were no curses here. A line of runes ignited under his feet and brightened, more appearing ahead and on either side of him, as if filling with quicksilver. The lines reached the base of the walls and spread up them, the runes sometimes lighting in clusters, sometimes alone, as they had done in Sherinias’ birthing chamber. They formed words he could not read.

  “What do they say?” he asked Majelin.

  “They name the owner of this keep, his history and lineage. It is like a welcome mat.”

  “So I am welcome here?”

  “All who follow the light are. The keep senses your pure soul. It will not attack you.”

  “I doubt it can. There is very little power here. That is why it is blue.”

  The brightening interior was so vast it appeared larger than the exterior. Bane sensed the keep’s power increasing as runes lighted all over the walls, which began to glow a soft blue. Statues became visible, lining a broad aisle that stretched away up the centre of the edifice, and the polished obsidian floor was sprinkled with tiny lights. He had seen its like before, in a dead light realm, and once again experienced the weird sensation that he stood upon a starry sky. The statues seemed to be angels, their heads bowed, each holding a black sword, point down, the tip resting on the stone between their sandalled feet. They towered ten feet tall on four-foot plinths, which kept their wingtips off the floor, even though they were folded. Their long, silver-grey robes hung from one shoulder, pooled on the plinths and spilt over in gleaming falls.

  Bane approached the nearest statue. Its eyes were closed and it was amazingly detailed, owning eyelashes and distinct hairs, as if it had once been alive. It wore blue-sheened black armour under its robe. Why would angels wear duron? Why had they stood, so elegantly posed, on the plinths while they had been transmuted? What, or who, had turned them to stone? Perhaps they were merely statues after all. He shrugged it off. Pondering such mysteries did no good. More of the keep, which looked increasingly like a gigantic cathedral, became visible as blue light spread along the walls and ceiling. Massive crystal chandeliers floated just beneath an arched roof adorned with a mural of a mighty battle wherein giant machines tore demons apart and humans flew in armoured suits.

  The light reached the roof’s apex, and the chandeliers burst into white brilliance. At the centre of the chamber, over a hundred yards away, was a crystal throne whose faceted columns reached to the ceiling. It stood on an elliptical dais that raised it three steps off the floor, and the shaft of light that poured through the roof illuminated the male figure who sat upon it, his head bowed. Shining silver armour moulded the powerful contours of his chest, chainmail sheathed his upper arms, and silver wrist guards protected his forearms. A swathe of white satin was clasped on one shoulder with a diamond-encrusted broach, and a short kilt of adamante chainmail covered his thighs. Silver sandals shod his feet, and long, gleaming blond hair hung over his face, hiding it. A thick layer of pale dust covered him.

  The Demon Lord strolled up the aisle, his footsteps echoing and his tension rising. The darkness within him warned him of his danger in this bastion of the light. He wondered how long the light god had been trapped here. Millennia, judging by the dust, yet he was convinced that there was no dark god in this place, and there never had been. There would have been signs. As he drew closer, the details of the light god’s predicament became visible. Duron manacles fastened his wrists to the arms of his throne, and more restrained his ankles. Bane stopped, his bile rising.

  The frosted hilt of a black sword protruded from Carthius’ chest, driven through his armour to impale his heart and pin him to his throne. Blue fire rimmed the wound, and blood vessels glowed under his skin, where his blood fought the dark power. The sword was crudely forged, and bore the marks of the tool that had created it: a hammer. What manner of dark being forged a duron sword with a hammer? Possibly demons, but that was unlikely, since they did not generally attack light gods, who were more than capable of defeating droves of them, even destroying some. Whatever had trapped Carthius was more formidable than a demon, and had more ambition to destroy the light.

  The pillar of light entered the top of Carthius’ head, and streams of shadow poured into the sword from all around. A fearsome battle was going on within the imprisoned light god, darkness and light destroying each other. Bane knew it must cause him the most exquisite agony, having had a taste of it when Lyriasharin had channelled the white fire through him, but what Carthius suffered was much, much worse. This was why there was so little power in this world. It was being destroyed within the light god.

  The shadows strived to snuff out Bane’s sympathy for Carthius’ plight. Did he want to free him? Had he not promised Mirra there would be no more side tracks to free light gods? Yet here he was again, faced with a quandary that could turn the darkness against him. He mounted the dais to stand before the light god, then bent and reached for the black hilt. As his fingers closed around the icy metal, three sigils on the visible portion of the blade glowed red, and he frowned. Traketh, Morbidar and Antraven: pain, subjugation and atonement. Atonement for what? Who had defeated Carthius? How had he transgressed, and against whom?

  The icy hilt stung Bane’s palm, and he released it with an oath, leaving flecks of skin frozen to the metal, which shrivelled and blackened. The sword was cursed, too. Whoever had ruined this domain had been fond of curses, apparently. A faint creak made him glance around. The place was creepy, and he had the distinct impression that he was being watched. It also seemed as if the two closest statues had turned their heads towards him, but he could not be certain. Majelin, who stood beside a statue, touched its wing. He snatched his hand back and moved towards Bane, his brows knotted.

  “What is it?” Bane enquired.

  “I know not, but I dislike this place.”

  Bane nodded. “It is certainly eerie.”

  “That statue seems… alive.”

  Bane raised his eyebrows, then whipped around as a voice behind him said, “They are.”

  Carthius stood beside the throne, smiling. His translucent form gave off a soft, pale glow. He had a strong-boned, youthful face, flawless in every way, from his fine dark gold brows to his narrow, sculpted nose and full, sensual lips. If Bane had not known better, he would have said such perfection belonged to a dark god. Carthius’ vivid blue eyes swept over Bane and flicked to Majelin, who bowed and said, “Lord Carthius, son of Vater and Airen, most ancient and respected of light gods.”

  Carthius inclined his head. “Well met, archangel.”

  “Majelin.”

  Carthius looked at Bane again. “And welcome, Lord of Darkness and Warrior of the Light. Blessed be the fate that brought you here, tar’merin.”

  Bane glanced at the figure on the throne. “You are a spirit.”

  “Indeed. A power light gods seldom use. It is usually dangerous for us to leave our bodies unprotected, but alas, mine is of little use to me.”

  “Why do you say they are alive?”

  Carthius’ slight smile broadened. “They are my guardians.”

  “The light won this battle?”

  “No. It lost. I lost. My people perished in defence of me, and my domain was brought to the brink of destruction. Those are not creatures of the light anymore, if, indeed, they ever were. Have you a name?”

  “He is Bane, the Demon Lord,” Majelin supplied.

  Carthius nodded. “I am honoured by your presence here, tar’merin.”

  “You brought me here, did you not?” B
ane asked.

  “Yes. At least, I hoped you would seek me out. I have not the power to summon a god anymore. I thought it likely you would come, since you are trapped here, like the rest of us.”

  “What happened here?”

  “That is a sad tale. Will you sit, have some wine?”

  “You have wine?”

  Carthius shrugged. “No, but it is polite to offer. Ambrosia will have to suffice, for you. For me, nothing is required, sadly.”

  Bane looked around for somewhere to sit, then caused a stone seat to rise and settled upon it. “I am not thirsty at the moment.”

  Chapter Ten

  Void Gate

  “Then I shall begin.” Carthius paused, gazing into the distance. “Just after the Times of Reckoning, an angel fell in love with a human, and they wed. We – the Grey Gods and a few of their offspring – did not know what the products of such a union would be, if, indeed, there would be any. When the first changeling was born, Ordur created this domain, in which the changeling and his parents could dwell, until we knew what would become of him, and what he would become. It was a time of much uncertainty. I volunteered to watch over them. We soon realised how dangerous changelings would be, and Ordur created the white Fetch, the only one of its kind, to ensure no changelings were born into other worlds. More and more angels and their spouses were brought here, and they had many offspring. I think you know, from your travels through my dreams, what happened. The changelings became a new race, and raised children of their own. They were not a race any light god would ever have created, however. My people suffered for aeons, but I was powerless to intervene. I wept for them.”

  Carthius bowed his head. “Even then, we did not know what the changelings would ultimately become, until they changed again.” He looked up and motioned to the statues. “Thus, another new race came into being; an accursed race, with the abilities of angels and the souls of humans, who turned to the darkness and became what you see here today. They are the ultimate perversion of the light, the most dangerous of all the dark creatures… dark angels. Here they stand, trapped forever, because of my sacrifice.

  “They decimated my people and slaughtered their own parents. Their souls were black. Still are. I did the only thing I could, before they escaped to annihilate other worlds. I spoke a Forbidding.”

  Majelin drew a sharp breath, and Bane cast him a puzzled glance.

  Carthius smiled. “You are young, tar’merin, if you do not know what a Forbidding is.”

  “You sealed the domain.”

  “I did. The Forbidding also banished all the Channels within my domain. That made life a lot more difficult for the dark angels, whom I named tra’mith: the accursed. But I was on my own after that, and they longed to quit this place. I raised up my people to fight them. I gave them weapons, knowledge, and abilities… Many of them were demigods.” Carthius sighed. “But it was all for nought. They could not prevail. The tra’mith retained their angelic immortality. They called upon the demons to aid them, perhaps even coerced them. The final battle was stupendous. I partook of it myself, and discovered that I alone could slay tra’mith. I slew seven thousand two hundred and eighty-nine dark angels. Only these survived. In the end, they turned on me; not unexpected, in hindsight. Many died, but they succeeded.”

  He glanced at the still form on the throne. “There I sit, trapped forever by a cursed duron sword. My people continued to fight, until all were slain. Then, there was nothing more for the tra’mith to do. They tortured me, so I quit my body. I dreamt. Aeons have passed since then. Another domain was created so close to mine that it mingled with it, and I feared the breach in the boundary wards would allow the tra’mith egress, but they have not found it. They sleep.”

  Carthius smiled. “Then a wondrous event happened. A god entered my doomed world and wandered in my dream of bygone times. At first, I thought you a dark god, but I began to suspect you were something else when you did not harm my people, and slew changelings to protect an archangel. I sent an angel to speak to you, and learnt the truth. I am glad you turned away from the realm gate. It was not intended as a trap, but when a domain is sealed, a gate offers no egress, even if you had opened it with his soul.” He indicated Majelin with a flick of his fingers. “The Oracle spoke the truth, as it knows it, but when it spoke of the light, it did not mean the archangel. It meant me.”

  “You can free me?” Bane asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Will you?”

  Carthius shook his head. “I cannot while they exist, for then I would free them too. Given access to the Channels outside, they would wreak havoc in numberless worlds, and perhaps even travel to Airedene, there to slay angels and gods alike.”

  “I can free you.”

  The light god nodded. “I know. But I have languished here for too many aeons. Drawing the sword now will kill me. I am at death’s door, as is my world. The moment I perish, the Forbidding will be undone. The tra’mith will be free and this world destroyed. You will not survive.”

  “As soon as the Forbidding is undone, I will be able to Move.”

  “Indeed, but they will still be freed. I have not sacrificed my world and myself to trap them just to free them so you may also be freed, tar’merin, noble though that deed would be. If you draw the sword, my death will kill you, but not all of them.”

  “So, you need me to slay them first.” Bane nodded at the angels.

  “If only you could. Certainly, you have the power to do so, but they also have the ability to slay you. You are mortal, and there are sixteen of them.”

  “They sleep.”

  Carthius chuckled. “Think you they will remain so, should you start killing them? They awaken, even now. Your entry ignited the wards within this keep.”

  “Why did you lead me here, then?”

  The spirit god shrugged. “Perhaps hope, that some other solution may be found. If you fight them, you will die. If you free me, you will die, but you have the ability to return, as a spirit god. The tra’mith who survive will escape, however, and that, I cannot allow.”

  “I will not sacrifice my mortality.”

  “Then you are as trapped as they are.”

  “Surely you had some other plan to defeat them? Did you rely solely on your own ability and that of your people?”

  “We almost succeeded,” Carthius pointed out.

  “Almost is not good enough.”

  “No. It was not, in the end, but in the beginning, there was hope that we would succeed, and no alternative.”

  “Why have no changelings been born outside since then?”

  “Have there not?” Carthius appeared thoughtful. “Then Ordur, or another Grey God, must have made it impossible for more to be born. I know nothing of what has transpired outside my domain since I sealed myself in here with these monsters.”

  “I will not remain trapped in here.”

  “You are arrogant, a curse of the dark power. Who is your spirit father?”

  “Kayos.”

  “Ah. Why does that not surprise me? Does he know about you?”

  “He watches over me, even now.”

  Carthius looked up. “Of course, I thought I sensed an Eye, but as a spirit, my powers are negligible.”

  “If you know nothing of the outside world, and you have been trapped here since just after the Times of Reckoning, how do you know about tar’merin?”

  “I do not. It is what you are. Are there others?”

  Bane shook his head. “Not anymore. Four have come and gone before me.”

  “How wonderful. Not that they are dead, but that they existed. You are a true wonder.”

  “And I cannot remain trapped here. Kayos has need of me.”

  “I wish I could help you.”

  Bane looked at the nearest angel. “Why do they sleep? Why did they not continue to multiply?”

  “There is no longer any food for them here.”

  “I am surprised they did not think to capture people for that purpo
se.”

  “They tried. My people were staunch in their faith, and their sacrifice was complete.”

  “And when you allowed the world to die, they had no choice.”

  Carthius nodded. “Did I have a choice?”

  Bane summoned a cup of ambrosia and sipped it. “I suspect there is more to your tale than you have told me, Carthius. You had another plan to defeat the dark angels.”

  “It failed, too.”

  “What was it?”

  “A void gate.”

  “A what?”

  Carthius smiled again, sadly. “A void gate is a portal into the firmament. The great void that surrounds the God Realm is infinite, empty, and deadly. Few ever create one, since it serves no purpose, usually. It cannot destroy gods, for they can Move, but dark angels cannot. If they had stepped through the gate, they would have perished. Alas, I was not able to lure them into it.”

  “But perhaps I could.”

  “Why would they follow you?”

  “I will tell them it is the way out.”

  Carthius’ brows rose. “You think they would believe you?”

  “To them, I am a dark god. They cannot see my soul, and they will not know what I am if they do not touch me.”

  “That is a fair plan, but with one fatal flaw. You cannot open the gate.”

  “But you can.”

  “Not as a spirit.”

  Bane cursed, frowning. The hopelessness of his situation was maddening. Majelin stood watching them, his mien expressionless. Bane looked at Carthius again. “You feared the tra’mith would escape through the breach in the wards formed by Pretarin’s domain mingling with yours, so why can I not also escape through that?”