Demon Lord VII - Dark Domain

by Southwell, T C

  He gave her a reassuring nod. “I am all right.”

  “No you are not.” She frowned and clasped his face, and his headache vanished. “What were you thinking, trying to protect me?”

  He raised his brows at the unexpected rebuke. “You are welcome.”

  “Oh, Bane, you are a lummox. You know I do not need protection.”

  He sat up. “So I should use you as a cushion, rather, hmmm?”

  “That would be better than getting hurt trying to protect me when you know I cannot be harmed.”

  “You make it very difficult for me to be a hero.”

  She smiled and patted his cheek. “You are always my hero.”

  “Odd, I feel a bit redundant.”

  “You are a twerp, too.”

  “I think I should trade you in for a wife who appreciates my foolish attempts to protect her.”

  “I do appreciate them.”

  “You have an odd way of showing it.”

  She leant forward to kiss him. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “That is better. I shall require far more gratitude later, though.”

  She snorted. “Are you going to find out what has happened, and if the others are all right?”

  He rose to his feet and helped her up. “I am pretty sure this is the work of idiotic humans, attacking the ship. Now I will have to fix the damn thing again.”

  Bane reached for his trousers on the bedside table and pulled them on while Mirra donned her dress, envying her the speed with which she was able to slip on the simple garment. His apparel was a lot more complex, and when she was dressed she helped him button his shirt and tunic and lace his boots. He would have left the cloak, but Mirra clipped it on, standing on tip-toe to finger comb his hair. He submitted to it rather impatiently, amused by her concern for his appearance. Clearly she did not want him looking like he had just been dragged out of bed, even in an emergency.

  When at last she seemed satisfied, he took her hand. “Come on.”

  Pungent smoke fouled the air in the corridor, and alarms whooped in distant areas. Bane went to Mithran’s door, just down the passage, and it opened to reveal his father sitting on the bed in his undershorts, clasping his head. Mirra hurried to his side to heal him, and he cast her a grateful smile as the lump on his temple subsided.

  Grem trotted in, looking relieved when he found Bane and Mithran unharmed. “I’ll check on the others.” He vanished out of the door again.

  Mithran rose and donned his clothes. “What happened?”

  “Some fools attacked the ship, I think,” Bane replied. “I am sure Kayos, Sherinias and Drevarin have the situation well in hand, but I am on my way to find out.”

  “I’ll come, too.”

  “I must see if any of the others are hurt,” Mirra said.

  Out in the corridor again, they encountered Grem hurrying back towards them, Ethra and Sarrin at his heels. “These two are all right,” he said, “just bumps and scrapes.”

  Mirra healed Ethra’s bruised hip and Sarrin’s sprained wrist, then followed Grem as he went to check on the rest of the refugees. Bane gazed after her, wishing she was not so busy when he would rather have kept her close. Then again, he reminded himself, she could not be harmed, and he wanted to know what had happened. He set off for the mess hall where Drevarin was usually to be found, Mithran, Ethra and Sarrin following.

  Nikira tensed as two grey frigates loomed out of the mist ahead, both hovering higher than Retribution was capable of flying. The sleek warships had four missile tubes in stubby protrusions on their bellies and light guns mounted on their bows. Nikira was not trained for warfare; stealth ships carried missiles for use against dangerous dark creatures, or dra’voren, as a last-ditch defence, or sometimes to blast through obstacles. Normally, pitting a stealth ship against two heavily armed and armoured frigates would be suicide, and she glanced at Drevarin, who watched the screen with a serene expression. It still amazed her that he could provide the ship with impregnable shields without any apparent effort.

  The warships fired at Miraculous again, but the missiles exploded harmlessly against the pale shield. The detonations blew away most of the diamond sand around it, exposing what appeared to be a sheet of polished obsidian sprinkled with tiny lights.

  The coms console hissed and a tinny voice issued from it. “This is Perseverance. What are you doing here, Retribution? And why have you stopped sending us scanner info?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Nikira ordered as the communications officer reached for the key that would open a connection with the warship.

  “Commander?”

  “They’ll find out soon enough. Target their engines and generators. Let’s do as much damage as we can without killing anybody.”

  The weapon systems officer ran his hands over his console. “Targets acquired, Commander.”

  “Full volley. Fire.”

  A soft boom came from far below the bridge, and an instant later four missiles came into view, flames and smoke pouring from their tails. Two struck the nearer warship just aft of the crews’ quarters in a bright burst of fire, the faint thuds of the explosions reaching them as the other two missiles hit the farther ship. When the smoke and flames cleared, two sizeable indentations in the closer ship’s hull had small holes at their centres, testament to the strength of the warship’s armour. The second vessel was similarly damaged.

  “Reload and re-arm,” Nikira ordered.

  “You’re going to kill your countrymen?” Donavan asked.

  “They tried to kill us when they fired on Miraculous. They may very well have killed or injured some of Sarjan’s crew. Why should I worry about their lives when they didn’t give a shit about ours?”

  “They’ll tell you some sacrifice is necessary in order to kill a dra’voren.” He raised his hands when she frowned at him. “I’m just saying that’s what they believe. If they knew the truth they’d be on our side too. You can’t blame them for following orders.”

  The weapon systems officer warned, “Perseverance is turning towards us. She could be arming missiles, Commander.”

  Nikira looked around at the bridge crew. “I’m not trying to kill them, just to chase them away. So far, everyone who’s died since Bane came here has done so either because of Predoran’s attack on the Great Gate or they were killed by the real dra’voren. Bane hasn’t killed anyone.”

  “Predoran’s blaming him, though, and saying that he’s here to destroy our world,” Donavan said.

  “Perseverance is firing, Commander,” the weapon systems officer stated.

  Nikira looked up at the main screen, where four missiles shot towards Retribution. They exploded against the faint haze that covered the screen in a fiery conflagration, making the officers tense, and some grip their consoles. Not so much as a shiver went through the ship, and the men relaxed as the flames dispersed.

  “Are our missiles armed?” Nikira enquired.

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Same targets. Fire.”

  A muffled bang came from below the bridge again as a second salvo fired, and the missiles flew at the two frigates, both of which were turning away. The missiles hit their targets in bursts of fire and smoke, and one warship listed, losing altitude. The other picked up speed towards Retribution, veering away to head for the Golden Gates. The crippled ship limped after it, smoke pouring from its vents and the holes in its hull.

  “Show me Miraculous,” Nikira ordered.

  The image on the main screen changed to a side-on view of the downed stealth ship, also still venting smoke, although it was not as thick and black as before.

  Having found the mess hall empty, Bane made his way to the bridge, his little entourage trotting after him. Every so often, groups of crewmen ran past on mysterious, but obviously urgent errands, all too concerned with the ship’s peril to pay any attention to Bane. With its skeleton crew, Miraculous was ill-equipped to deal with any type of emergency, never mind one of this magnitude.

&n
bsp; On the bridge, Sarjan stood gazing at the screen, his crew bent over their consoles in a state of feverish activity. The commander turned when Bane entered, his expression wary, as usual.

  “What happened?” Bane asked.

  “Retribution was trying to capture you, and when they couldn’t find you, two frigates attacked us. Nikira took command of Retribution and fired on the frigates, and they’ve left.”

  “How did they find us?”

  Sarjan pulled a face. “They must have searched Cloud World until they found our short-range locator beacon, which gave them our location.”

  “And is the beacon now switched off?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who would have ordered this?” Bane enquired.

  “I’d guess it was Governor Predoran.”

  “The same man who ordered you to hunt me, and the attack on the realm gate?”

  Sarjan nodded. “Yes.”

  Bane grunted, frowning. “I have had enough of this Predoran fellow. It is time to close the gates again and put an end to his foolish antics.”

  “You’re going to shut out the people in Sarlan City?” Sarjan sounded shocked.

  Bane raised an eyebrow. “They had fair warning when the gate closed before, twice, and part of their city was destroyed by its weapons, yet the majority have chosen to stay. If they want to remain out in the Wastes, it is their choice, is it not?”

  “Because Governor Predoran urged them to stay, and assured them it wouldn’t happen again. Obviously they don’t want to abandon their homes, but I don’t think they realise that the gate will close forever. If they knew that, I reckon most would go into Bayona.”

  “The gate will open once more, when my companions and I leave, so the inhabitants of the outer city will have one more chance to return to the domain. After that, the gate will close forever.”

  Sarjan nodded, although he still seemed perturbed. “Fair enough, I suppose, but the city suffered damage from the Great Gate’s weapons. I’m not sure how long they’ll be able to manage without help from Bayona.”

  “We will be leaving within a few days. Their taste of isolation should help them to make up their minds, do you not think?”

  “I guess so.”

  Bane leant on a console and folded his arms. “You disapprove?”

  “Well, people could die.”

  Ethra, who had been glowering at the commander the whole time, said, “Be glad Bane does not destroy your stupid -”

  “Ethra!” Bane frowned at her. “Do not start that again.”

  “But -”

  “Enough.”

  “He’s -”

  “Shush.”

  The girl scowled at him, pouting, and he could not help smiling at her indignant expression.

  Bane faced Sarjan again. “So, what do you suggest?”

  “Could you give them another warning? They shouldn’t have to pay for Predoran’s stubbornness, should they? He dismissed Nikira as a madwoman, but he wouldn’t be able to ignore you.”

  “Every hour the realm gate stands open, this world is in danger of being invaded by more dark gods.”

  “Just one day?”

  Bane sighed, disliking the idea, although clearly Sarjan was equally unhappy with a summary gate closure. His request had merit, and one more day did not pose a grave risk. “Very well. One more day, one more warning, and then the gates close.”

  “Thank you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dark Domain

  The Demon Lord strode along the corridor that led to Governor Predoran’s office, ignoring the people who stepped from his path with startled expressions and turned to stare after him. He allowed them to see him this time so they would be convinced of his existence, lest the governor be suspected of hallucinations or insanity. Bane was fed up with the stupid man, this troublesome domain and its foolish people, which forced him to take up the shadows again when he would rather have rested from them for longer before creating the wards. The smartly-dressed woman who sat at a desk in the room outside the governor’s office jumped up with a gasp as he approached, her eyes wide.

  Bane pointed at her. “Sit.”

  She sank back onto her chair, gaping at him as he strode past. The double doors flew open ahead of him with a crash, and he swept into the governor’s office, the doors closing again behind him.

  Predoran looked up with an impatient frown, then his eyes widened. The Demon Lord marched up to his desk, gripped the side of it and flipped it end over end out of the adjacent floor to ceiling window with a terrific crash. Glass rained down to smash on the floor and fly out into the void, and everything on the desk clattered to the floor. The governor cowered, raising his hands. Bane glared at him, fighting the dark power’s urging to kill him. The man was without honour, and, in Bane’s opinion, should not be in charge of scrubbing a floor, much less running a city. Predoran’s soul glowed sickly yellow-green, in keeping with his cowardly demeanour and obvious debauchery. He looked only a little the worse for wear, despite his city’s partial destruction, his brown suit stretched over his paunch and his greasy brown hair slicked back. His walrus moustache bristled as his mouth opened and closed in shock, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  Bane swung away before the urge to kill Predoran overcame him and flung himself onto one of the soft cream chairs that surrounded a low, glass-topped table in the spacious seating area in front of the spot where Predoran’s desk had been. Bane breathed deeply to calm himself as he gazed out of the massive windows that gave a view of the city’s cratered streets and ruined buildings. The blue fire dome flickered and pulsed, the gaps in it warping as they expanded and contracted.

  “I trust I now have your attention, Governor,” he said.

  “Who… who the hell are you, and how did you get in here?”

  “I am the Demon Lord. Perhaps you have heard of me. And I used the door, like anyone else.”

  “You’re the dra’voren!”

  Bane glanced at him. “I am tired of insults. Dra’voren, destroyer, abomination, dark god… I am actually trying to help you and your people, but you are all too stupid to realise it.”

  Predoran bent and pushed a button on an instrument that had been on his desk, but was now on the floor, held in the room by the wires that connected it to the wall. “Security!”

  “They cannot hear you.”

  The governor jumped up and strode towards the doors, shouting, “Darris! Call security!”

  “Your assistant cannot hear you either.”

  Predoran tapped the panel beside the doors, then banged it. “Darris!”

  “Those will not open.”

  Predoran faced Bane, his back pressed to the doors, his eyes darting about the room in search of escape.

  Bane contemplated him with deep contempt. “Why not try a window?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Sit.” Bane took control of Predoran and made him walk over to the sofa on the other side of the table and sink down on it. The governor stared at him, his face rigid with horror.

  Bane leant forward and laced his fingers. “You and your people have caused me a lot of trouble, while I have rid your domain of four dark gods. I do not care what you think I am, but my patience is at an end. So, I am going to close the realm gate. It will open one last time when my companions and I leave, and then it will close forever. I do not care if you and your people choose to live out here, but they must be informed of what is to happen. Since last time you did not believe my warning, issued through a proxy, this time I came myself. I trust you appreciate the rare privilege of my presence.”

  The governor shook his head. “You can’t force me to obey. I will protect my city and my world!”

  “Actually, I can, although I would rather make you see the benefits of doing as I instruct, but I begin to suspect that I am wasting my time. You have no need to protect your world or your city from me. I have no intention of harming either of them, unless you anger me sufficiently, so the best way for you to
protect them is to obey me.”

  “I will not be dictated to by a dra’voren!”

  “You will do as I command, one way or another.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  Bane sighed and gazed out of the window. “Then you are even more of an imbecile than I thought. Do you still not realise the futility of defying me? Everything you have attempted has failed, and you have suffered losses every time. That will continue to happen if you persist. You will tell your people that they have one day to return to the domain before the gate closes.”

  Predoran drew himself up. “No. I won’t do it. You have no right to threaten us, or close our Great Gate. It’s illegal! The courts will uphold my right to refuse your orders. Who the hell do you think you are? You may be a dra’voren, but we destroy your kind all the time, and we’ll destroy you too! You and your cronies should go back to whatever dark place you came from, and -”

  Bane silenced the garrulous governor and turned his head. “Setiss, come to me.”

  The air demon appeared beside him, a vague man-shape of pale mist. The governor, whose mouth continued to open and close, his expression reflecting his growing alarm at his inability to speak, jumped up and backed away, his eyes wide.

  Setiss bowed to Bane. “Lord.”

  “Take on a human aspect.”

  Setiss seemed to swell, then shrink as he solidified into a tall, rangy man with ash blond hair, a narrow, handsome face and a short goatee. He wore a sleek, expensive-looking grey suit, similar to those worn by the locals, although considerably more stylish than Predoran’s tasteless garb. Air demons tended to be particularly vain, but the effect was somewhat spoilt by his surfeit of garish jewellery. His glittering jet eyes darted to the governor, then back to Bane.

  “This is an air demon,” Bane informed Predoran. “He is under my command, and fully capable of killing you swiftly should you disobey me.” He turned to Setiss. “You will ensure this human sends all the people in this city who wish to return to the domain into it. If he does not, kill him and assume his likeness, then carry out my orders. You will not harm anyone else. Your task will end when the realm gate closes.”