Blue light from the soldiers’ weapons cracked into the stone all around her, and the screams of injured people made her blood boil. She ran to another victim and healed her, but more were gunned down as they tried to elude their pursuers, and she despaired of healing them all before they died. Others were caught and bound, and hot tears of fury and frustration stung Sherinias’ eyes.
A three-man medical team arrived in the containment room, their white uniforms splattered with blood and faces lined with fatigue. They pushed past the officers in the doorway and hurried to Bane’s side, dumping their gear. The doctor felt for a pulse in Bane’s neck, then rolled him onto his back. The hair slid off his face, revealing it to be pallid and drawn, blood oozing from his mouth and nose. More soaked his hair, and a new pool formed under his head. Sarjan stared at him, torn between his revulsion for a dra’voren and a strong, inexplicable impulse to help him. Stripped of his power and senses, he seemed to be nothing more than a handsome young man who possessed a tangible aura of power and mystery.
The doctor frowned. “He looks like... This is the dra’voren!”
“Yes, but he’s human.”
The doctor sat back and looked up at Sarjan. “You want me to save a dra’voren?”
“He’s a man,” Sarjan said. “Treat his wounds.”
“Commander...”
“That’s an order.”
The doctor turned back to his patient with a muttered expletive, took the scissors one of his assistants held out and cut away Bane’s torn, blood-soaked shirt and tunic, examining the wounds in his belly. “What the hell happened to him?”
Sarjan hesitated, surprised that Bane had only two puncture wounds and a lot of red welts. The wounds must have been deep, however; blood still oozed from them. “A beast dra’voren attacked him.”
The doctor took pressure dressings from his bag and clamped them to the wounds, one of his assistants taping them in place. With the bleeding staunched, the doctor examined the back of Bane’s head and his legs, then sat back.
“Both his legs are broken below the knees.” He dug in his medical kit, extracted a bag of packed red cells and set up a drip, ordering the other aide to position the narrow board next to Bane, on which they would carry him to the hospital.
“No blood,” Sarjan ordered, recalling the data he had received from base, gleaned from the examinations and experiments carried out on Bane aboard Retribution.
“He’ll die without blood,” the doctor protested.
“No blood.”
The physician glared up at him. “Then I’m wasting my time. He has massive internal injuries. He’s bleeding out, and you don’t want me to give him blood?”
“He can’t have blood. It will kill him.”
“He’s going to die without it.”
“You don’t know that. He’s not the same as us. Just strap him up, or stitch him; whatever you have to do.”
The doctor threw the bag of blood back into his pack. “That won’t do him any good.”
“Just do it.”
One of the medics dropped a roll of bandage and gave chase. It rolled a few feet away and vanished. The man stopped, frowning, then bent and groped for it, recoiling with a yelp of alarm as his hands vanished.
“What is it?” Sarjan asked.
“I don’t know, Commander.” The medic rubbed his hands. “It’s like there’s something here. Some sort of field. My hands vanished.”
Sarjan approached him and bent to thrust his hands into the area the man indicated, snatching them away when they also disappeared. Intrigued, he groped into the area again, stifling the impulse to yank his hands away when they vanished once more, and this time his fingers encountered silken fabric covering a warm body.
“It’s another man.”
“Another dra’voren?” Ferid demanded from the doorway.
“There’s no dark power in this room, yet he’s still invisible, so he can’t be a dra’voren.” Sarjan ran his hands over the man, finding no moisture that might have been blood and a strong pulse in his neck. “This one seems to be all right. He’s just stunned.”
“Well there’s not much we can do for him if we can’t see him,” the doctor grumbled.
Sarjan jumped as shouts of alarm came from the containment room and swung to stare through the observation window. A blond man clad in dark grey trousers and a silver jacket stood in the middle of the room, his expression daunting. He raised his hands, and white fire streamed from his fingers, striking the consoles with crackling bangs and showers of sparks. The containment technicians yelled and dived for cover as bright fire crawled over the control boards.
When wisps of smoke rose from the defunct consoles, the stranger lowered his hands and vanished, reappearing beside Bane. Sarjan and the medical team scrambled away as the man fell to his knees and ripped off the dressings. He placed his hands over the wounds, a golden glow forming under his palms. Sarjan’s mouth fell open, while the doctor made a strangled sound of disbelief. The stranger’s frown eased as Bane’s flesh filled with soft light, and the wounds closed.
Sarjan whispered, “He’s healing him.”
The doctor shot him a scandalised glance, then stared at the unbelievable scene again.
Streams of white fire formed shining conduits between Bane and his healer, whose face was rapt with concentration. Bane’s legs straightened as golden light invaded them, shining through his trousers. The man wiped away the blood to reveal red scars that faded in moments, leaving pale, almost invisible marks. The fire died as he lifted his hands and frowned at the blood on them. He rose to his feet, his eyes raking the gawping officers, many of whom retreated.
“Who is in charge?”
Sarjan said, “I am.”
“How long will he be senseless?”
“Eight, perhaps twelve hours.”
“Too long.” The stranger glanced at his bloody hands again. “I require your ship.”
“It... it’s damaged.”
“How long before it is repaired?”
“Two, maybe three hours.”
“Leave this room. Now.”
Sarjan headed for the door, which the medical team reached before him, pushing past the officers. As soon as Sarjan stepped through the door, it slid shut, and he went to the window. The strange man moved to the centre of the shredder room and spread his hands towards the floor, closed his eyes and raised his head. His pose was identical to the one Bane had adopted when he had flown the ship from Cloud World, and Sarjan’s stomach tightened with trepidation.
Distant alarms whooped, and he staggered as gravity increased, grabbing the nearest console. Crewmen fell as their knees gave way, cursed and clung to fixtures to pull themselves upright. Sarjan swung away and raced to the bridge, his knees almost buckling with every stride.
The bridge officers were on their feet, holding onto their consoles as they shouted in confusion and alarm. The pilot ran his hands over his controls, his eyes wide.
“Report!” Sarjan glanced up at the main screen, which showed the ground dropping away at a fantastic rate.
“We’re airborne sir, but not under the ship’s power.” The pilot tapped his control panel. “Closing escape hatches.”
On the screen, the ground vanished as they ascended through a layer of clouds.
“Sir, we’re moving at approximately three times our maximum speed.”
“Where are we going?”
“Straight up.”
Sarjan nodded. “Cloud World.”
“What’s going on, sir?”
“Good question, but I don’t have an answer. It seems the ship’s being used by a... I don’t know what the hell he is.”
The pilot turned to Sarjan. “I have no control, sir.”
A bank of snowy clouds came into view ahead, shot with silver lightning and rainbows, racing towards them at breakneck speed. Sarjan gripped the console beside him, his gut clenched as the huge, dappled golden gates appeared amongst the clouds, flashing in the sunlig
ht. The ship shot through them so fast that his heart lurched, then everyone hung onto the consoles as Miraculous veered, the fantasy landscape of clouds and silver trees flashing past. Moments later, the white hall loomed ahead, and they speeded through it, the pillars passing in a blur.
Again the ship swerved, and an officer lost his grip and rolled across the floor, cursing. They passed through the Great Gate and flew towards the outer city, gaining altitude to pass over the fire dome, which flickered and swirled. Sarjan stared at the cratered streets and smouldering buildings in horrified amazement. As Miraculous swooped into the valley beyond Minto Peak, it slowed so swiftly that he staggered.
Miraculous passed two frigates and a destroyer that strafed the rocky ridges on the far side of the valley, where ragged people hid and fled. Squadrons of troops swarmed amongst the rocks, dragged people from their hiding places and forced them to their knees in an open area, shooting those who ran. Sarjan stared at the scene, shocked.
“What the hell?” an officer muttered.
A harsh, commanding voice issued from the communications console. “This is the destroyer Revenant. What are you doing here, Miraculous? This is a restricted area.”
Sarjan keyed the transmitter on the control board in front of him. “This is Commander Sarjan. Who ordered these people slaughtered?”
“Governor Predoran. Leave the area now, Commander.”
Miraculous slowed almost to a stop and sank towards the ridges. Sarjan glanced at the pilot. “Deploy landing struts.”
The officer checked his instruments. “They’re still deployed.”
A faint shudder ran through the ship as it settled on the ground, and the strident voice issued from the coms console again, demanding that they leave. Sarjan hesitated, wondering if the stranger intended to rescue the ragged people outside, which seemed likely.
He keyed the transmitter. “I have orders to capture these people, Revenant. Break off your attack and recall your troops.”
The bridge crew gawked at him, and a short silence fell, then Revenant’s coms-op asked, “On whose authority?”
“President Randoman.”
The pilot made a strangled sound, and Sarjan glared at him. The tinny voice issued from the coms console again. “I’ll have to confirm that, Miraculous.”
“Break off your attack, Revenant.”
Sarjan closed the connection, and the pilot demanded, “What are you doing, Commander?”
“If we tell them we’re not in control of this ship, what do you think they’ll do?”
The pilot frowned. “Attack us.”
“I’m just buying us some time.”
“Then what?”
“Then it’s up to the stranger.”
“Who...?” A flashing light on his console distracted the pilot. “The outer door is opening, sir.”
Sarjan left the bridge at a trot, punched the first floor button in the lift and paced around it as it descended. When he reached the hull door, it was open and the ramp extended. The stranger stood at the bottom of it, beckoning to the people who hid amongst the rocks. He glowed, and the people ran towards him with relieved, hopeful expressions. Sarjan descended the ramp and glanced up at the hovering warships. The ground troops watched, their weapons lowered, and those who guarded captured refugees freed them. The first of the ragged fugitives raced up the ramp, gasping with fear and fatigue.
The stranger turned to Sarjan. “Why do the ships not attack now?”
“I told them not to, but it won’t last long. You’ll have to hurry.”
“You are helping us?”
Sarjan met his gaze. “I’m trying to save my ship. If I’d told them the truth, they’d have attacked.”
“Rest assured, I will protect it, and those within it.”
“Who are you?”
The stranger smiled. “I am Drevarin, a lord of the light.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“To save these people from yours, who would slaughter them. It is unfortunate that I had to use your ship, but with Bane and Kayos unconscious within it, I had little choice.”
Sarjan stepped out of the path of a panting woman, who ran past. “Why?”
“I am unwilling to leave them unprotected, either in your ship, or in the light realm, which is not safe now. Had I returned here alone, I would have had to form another shield to guard these people until Bane awoke. Even if I had taken him to the light realm, there are many dangers afoot, demons and such, which could have slain him while he was helpless. This was the best way.”
Sarjan watched a girl in a sparkling, lacy dress walk amongst the rocks. She touched a fallen man, who rose and ran towards the ship. “Who’s she?”
“Lady Sherinias, your goddess.”
“I don’t believe in gods.”
“Whether you do or not makes no difference. You dwell in her domain. Its fate and that of all your people rest with her.”
“She’s just a girl.”
“Yes, she was only born three days ago.” Drevarin studied Sarjan, making him shift with unease. “Why did you not try to kill Lord Bane while he was injured?”
“I swore I wouldn’t.”
“I see. But you were trying to help him, were you not?”
Sarjan nodded. “He saved my ship, and he’s human, no matter what else he may be.”
“A dra’voren; the most powerful, evil and feared being known to you? A strange choice.”
“Is that what he is?”
“No, but that is what you believe he is, or do you doubt it?”
An elderly man collapsed at the bottom of the ramp, and two others hauled him to his feet and helped him up it.
Sarjan said, “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Good, then you may well be on the road to redemption.”
“What are you?”
Drevarin smiled. “One of those in whom you do not believe.”
“You’re claiming to be a god?”
“I am stating a fact.”
The last of the refugees hurried towards the ship, amongst them Commander Nikira, who aided a grey-haired woman in a white robe. The girl in the sparkling dress followed, apparently unconcerned by the danger of the hovering warships. As they reached Drevarin, the old woman fell to her knees, bowed her head and clasped her hands. The rest of her group, including Nikira, did the same.
“Thank you for saving us again, Lord,” the woman said. “A thousand praises upon your name.”
Drevarin inclined his head. “I am pleased to assist you, Sarrin.”
“Is Lord Bane all right?”
“He is.”
A fair-haired girl in a white gown trotted up the ramp and stopped in front of Drevarin. “Where is my husband? How does he fare?”
“He is recovering.”
“I must see him.”
“And so you shall, very soon.” Drevarin glanced up at the warships. “Go inside now.”
She followed the little group, and Sherinias approached Drevarin, smiling at him.
Sarjan caught Nikira’s arm as the group passed him, halting her. “What are you doing here?”
She wrenched free. “Seeking the sanctuary of the gods.”
“You believe these are -?”
“Yes.” Nikira swung away and marched up the ramp.
Drevarin followed her as the warships opened fire and the troops charged towards Miraculous. Sarjan strode into the ship, and Drevarin touched the locking unit beside the door. The ramp retracted and the door closed, shutting out the rain of blue fire that left molten spots on the dusty ground. Drevarin looked vague for a moment, then set off along the corridor, the blonde girl beside him. The ragged group followed, and Sarjan fell in behind. He wondered why no alarms were going off, since the warships undoubtedly fired at Miraculous now.
Drevarin led them to the containment room, where the two engineers who were repairing the damaged consoles retreated when he frowned at them. He pointed at the door, and they scuttled out. The blond
e girl hurried to the observation window and gazed through it, her expression anguished. Drevarin gestured at the shredder room door, and it opened, allowing her to go in.
Sarjan entered behind the group. Sarrin and the girl knelt beside Bane; the men stood nearby, their expressions relieved, but hard. The girl picked up Bane’s hand and held it to her cheek, her eyes overflowing. Sherinias sank to her knees on the other side of him with a rustle of sleek fabric and placed a hand on his chest. Nikira stood by the wall, chewing her lip, and Sarjan went over to her.
“What happened to you? The last I heard you were to be executed for treason.”
She nodded at Bane. “He saved me.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked him to? How should I know? I prayed, and he came just as they were about to slit me open so they could have a good look at my insides while I died.”
He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Disembowelment?”
“I believe that’s what it’s called.”
“But you...” He shook his head. “Everyone’s gone nuts.”
“What about you? Why are you here?”
“I wasn’t given a choice.”
“Your ship’s damaged. How did that happen?”
“A dra’voren attacked us,” he said.
“Let me guess; Bane saved you.”
“Yes.”
“And you still think he’s a dra’voren?”
Sarjan scowled at the floor. “I don’t know.”
“You prayed to him?”
“I... asked for his help.”
She smiled. “Was he within earshot at the time?”
“No.”
“You prayed to him, Sarjan, get over it.”
Sherinias looked up at Drevarin. “Where is my father?”
“Somewhere in this room.”
“There’s another man over there.” Sarjan pointed to the corner where the invisible man lay.
Drevarin went over and bent to grope around until his hands vanished, then smiled at Sherinias. “He is here.”
Demon Lord VII - Dark Domain Page 11
