Demon Lord IV - Lord of Shadows

by T C Southwell

  "What you are doing is very dangerous," she said.

  "You are as bad as Kayos. There is no other way."

  "I will watch over you diligently. I will not take my eyes from you for a moment, and if necessary, I will defend you."

  He shook his head. "No, do not do that."

  "Your life is worth more than mine, tar'merin."

  "Jishka would kill you with a flick of her fingers."

  Syrin smiled. "I know. Even armed with the Sword of Vengeance, I would be nothing more than a distraction, but perhaps that is all you will need."

  "The demons will defend me if necessary. You just stay out of the way. If I am injured badly, bring Kayos." He turned away before she could argue and walked over to the demons. "Take me to Jishka."

  One of the earth demons stepped forward and picked him up, cradling him in its massive arms. Bane found its proximity unpleasant. It stank of sulphur, and dark power coursed through it like foul blood. The earth demons pounded through the wood, eating up the leagues with long strides, and the fire demons rode the air as flames behind them. As they travelled, he perfected his illusions, making his shirt wet with blood and adding a few bruises on his face and ribs. By the time he was satisfied, the city had come into view ahead, a sprawling metropolis of dark buildings and broad, torch-lighted streets. The sun sank beyond the mountains, but the city had been in shadow since mid-afternoon.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dark Goddess

  The demons slowed as they entered the city, pounding up the main thoroughfare towards a vast palace of black rock that stood at the foot of Vorkon's gold-encrusted temple. From its seamless construction, Bane knew that it had been raised with the dark power, and since it had not been here when he had freed Drayshina, it was Jishka's creation. He rested his head against the demon's chest and narrowed his eyes to slits, pretending to be unconscious as they neared the palace. Droves of droges, humans and demons in human form thronged the palace grounds, some of the droges bearing platters of food or torches to replace those that sputtered.

  It seemed that Jishka was having a party, and Bane hoped that he would be added to the list of entertainment. The demons entered a vast courtyard where bevies of naked droge dancers vied for the attention of the lavishly dressed crowds, their erotic contortions performed to the beat of massive drums. Tables laden with food stood around the perimeter, and a number of animal carcasses roasted over fires. The number of humans that Jishka was entertaining surprised Bane, all of them black mages, dark priests, or high ranking worshippers of evil. Her new allies. Most dark gods would scorn such company, but for a weak one trapped in the mid realm, their help would be welcome. Doubtless she conspired with them for a way to kill him, and they would be her best chance of success.

  The demon that carried Bane pushed through the crowd, most of which stepped quickly from its path. They arrived at the bottom of the steps that led into the palace, at the top of which was a dais bearing a jewel-encrusted golden throne, and upon it lounged the beautiful dark goddess. A gown of shimmering gold silk clung to her slender form, and diamonds sparkled on her fingers, wrists, ears and throat.

  Several naked people were chained at the foot of the dais, their sweat-sheened skin marked with whip-welts. Most likely prisoners captured from nearby towns, or the dregs of her society, culled for sport and sacrifice. Compared to them, he was a prize indeed. Several black-robed priests flanked the throne, cowls shadowing their faces, and a few overdressed droges lounged on the steps, fawning for favours. The demon stopped at the foot of the steps and bowed, dumping Bane onto the ground hard enough to make him grunt. Jishka's eyes swept down and came to rest upon him, brightening with delight. Two droges came forward, reaching for him, but the demon sent them scurrying with a raised fist.

  "He is for the goddess," it grated.

  Jishka raised an imperious hand. "Bring him to me."

  The demon scooped Bane up and carried him to the foot of the dais, dropping him again. Jishka rose and stepped down to examine him, a cruel smile twisting her lush red lips.

  "A blue mage. Where did you find him?"

  "In the forest, great lady. He is injured."

  "So I see. How did it happen?"

  The demon shrugged. "We found him like this."

  Jishka glanced at the rest of the demons. "Good work. Go and enjoy yourselves, you have earned good sport tonight."

  Bane flicked his fingers, and the demons bowed to Jishka before moving away. The goddess bent to study Bane's face, and he thought that she would touch him, and it would be over quickly. Instead she signalled to two droges, who ran forward to prostrate themselves before her.

  "Take him to my chamber and chain him."

  "Yes, goddess."

  The droges gripped Bane's arms and dragged him around the dais, heading for a dark corridor that led into the palace. They took him to a lavishly furnished chamber whose walls were covered with runes and depictions of demons and dark beasts. A fire roared in the hearth, and a vast four poster bed, hung with silk and quilted with scarlet satin, stood against the far wall. The droges found chains and shackled Bane's wrists and ankles, then dumped him on the bed and left. He settled down to wait, examining the runes, none of which were a threat to him.

  Several hours passed before anyone came in, and then it was the two droges, who set out a feast on the table by the fire in preparation for the goddess' needs. Droges such as she did not require food, but ate for enjoyment. When the two men had finished setting up the table, they came over to the bed and used the manacles to pull his arms and legs apart until he was spread-eagled, then chained his wrists and ankles to the bed posts.

  Bane sighed as they left. This was typical of a dark goddess, who had similar tastes to their male counterparts. Subjugation and torture, which made the victim desperate to please their captor in order to avoid more pain. It hampered him, however, since he must take hold of Jishka, or she would escape.

  Another hour passed before Jishka entered, several female droges accompanying her. The droges came over to the bed to examine him, giggling and stroking him with their warm, lifeless hands. They unlaced his shirt and examined his wound, pinching and poking him. This was evidently intended to wake him up, and he decided to oblige, if only to stop their abuse.

  Bane opened his eyes, and the droges recoiled with squeals of laughter and surprise. Jishka turned from the table, where she sampled the food.

  "He is awake, goddess," one of the droges said.

  Jishka approached the bed, smiling. Bane glanced around the room as if seeing it for the first time, then jerked at the chains.

  "Where am I?" he demanded.

  "You are my prisoner, mage."

  "And who are you?"

  "I am Jishka."

  Bane looked at the droges, and then tugged at the chains again. "What are you going to do to me?"

  "A little sport, then you will be sacrificed."

  Her candour surprised him, as did her air of melancholy. "You are going to kill me?"

  She tilted her head, studying him. "It does seem a waste. You are handsome. What is your name?"

  "Ravan."

  "Perhaps you would like to become a black mage, Ravan."

  Bane gazed at her, struck by her incredible, unreal beauty. Rich, gleaming dark red hair framed a face of perfect symmetry and chiselled features with a full, sculpted mouth and bright green eyes set in flawless, milk-pale skin. The perfection of a dark goddess, much like his own. Any man would fall at her feet to worship such loveliness, even though it was false. Her allure was potent, and he found himself unable to look away. She smiled, revealing even white teeth.

  "You think me beautiful, Ravan?"

  "Yes."

  "Would you like to lie with me?"

  "Yes."

  She giggled. "Of course you would. And you are handsome indeed, almost worthy of me. But if I lie with you, the dark power will take you."

  "I do not care."

  "Strange for a blue mage to be s
o easily swayed."

  He allowed his eyes to roam over her, taking in the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips, which the clinging gold gown revealed in detail. "Never have I seen such beauty. For you it would be worth it."

  "And better than death?"

  "Much better."

  She stroked his cheek. "The dark power will make you even more handsome too."

  "If you spare me, I would worship you."

  Jishka stepped closer, clearly as captivated by him as he pretended to be with her, and it was not totally pretence. "And would you defend me?"

  "Yes."

  Her eyes slid over him. "You would be a powerful warlock, once you have learnt to master the dark power." She swung away, breaking the spell that had formed between them. "What were you doing in the forest?"

  He frowned, feigning confusion. "I do not remember."

  "You have been in a fight. Who was it with?"

  "I do not remember."

  She turned to face him again. "Perhaps your loss of memory is a good thing. You do not remember your loyalties."

  "I can remember nothing before I woke here."

  "Except your name."

  "Yes."

  Jishka came closer again and gazed down at him, then dismissed the droges with a jerk of her head. They filed out, shutting the door. Jishka went to the table and filled a plate with food, then returned.

  "Are you hungry?"

  "Yes."

  She sat on the bed beside him, and he glanced at the shackles on his wrists. "Will you not release me?"

  "Not yet."

  "Why?"

  Her eyes roamed over him. "I like you this way." She held out a delicate pastry filled with sweet fruit, and he took it from her fingers, his lips brushing them. He was not terribly skilled in the arts of seduction. His only experience, apart from Mirra, was with the droges in the Underworld when he had been young. They had been the seducers, however, and he had been their toy, he now knew. He let his instincts guide him, knowledge that came from the font of wisdom that his godhood bequeathed him. He licked his lips and let his eyes linger on hers, filled with what he hoped was invitation.

  "I wish I could touch you."

  She smiled. "I may let you, in time."

  Bane suppressed a sigh. He had moved them swiftly from torturer and victim to potential lovers, but Jishka was being overly cautious, and he wondered why. A blue mage had no hope of harming her, but perhaps she suspected that he would try, in order make her kill him now and avoid becoming a sacrifice.

  "You think I am lying," he challenged.

  "It seems odd that you should be so willing, even without memories."

  He looked away. "I do not want to be butchered on your altar."

  "And to avoid that you would become a black mage."

  "Yes."

  "You are lying again."

  Bane glanced at her. "If you knew I was lying, why did you go along with it?"

  She smiled, leaning closer. "It amused me."

  "Then you have no intention of letting me live?"

  "I might, if you prove to be an amusing toy."

  Bane wanted to laugh. He had done the exact same thing with Mirra, only he had fallen in love with her. It seemed that Jishka had already fallen foul of his charms, and was unwilling to kill him.

  Jishka gazed at him. "That amuses you?"

  Bane changed tactics. "I am not a toy."

  "To me, you are."

  "Come closer and play with me then."

  She wanted to, he could see it in her eyes and in the way she licked her lips. Putting aside the plate, she stepped closer and trailed her fingers across his chest. The illusory wound was hidden under his shirt, and she seemed to have forgotten about it.

  "Come closer," he whispered.

  Jishka leant over him, laying her arm across his chest, her other hand caressing his cheek. She was oddly gentle for a dark goddess, he mused. She seemed to long for fulfilment more, and he suspected that she hated Vorkon even more than most.

  "What were you, before Vorkon took you?"

  She recoiled at the mention of the dark god's name, her face hardening. "I was a princess. Daughter of the Duke of Daord."

  "He killed your father."

  "My entire family, while I watched."

  "You were a maiden."

  She nodded. "He defiled me."

  "Then you are not bound to him."

  "I serve him."

  Bane closed his eyes. Her soul was a dark red glow, utterly corrupted, yet she was a victim of the dark power, its pawn. Now that Vorkon was locked away, she longed for a partner of her own choosing, and would have no compunction about corrupting him for that purpose. He wondered if there was any way to save her, but discarded the notion. It was hopeless, but he pitied her, and hated what Vorkon had done to her, so much like what Arkonen had tried to do to him.

  Syrin stood in a Channel above and to the right of the bed, the closest one she could find to it, watching the scene below her with growing dismay. Her instincts warned her that Jishka was lying, yet Bane seemed to believe her. That was dangerous. She could tell that his resolve to destroy Jishka was weakening, and he was starting to pity her. The angel frowned as she realised that without the dark power, Bane was a gentle man, perhaps even a little gullible, uneducated in the deceitful ways of men, let alone dark goddesses. Jishka mocked him with her lies, lulling him into a state of acceptance and false security, then she would strike. From her vantage in the Channel, Syrin could see what Bane had been unable to when he had been dragged to the bed and dumped on it.

  Beneath the satin covers was a stone plinth carved with runes and arcane symbols of power. A sacrificial altar. He was already prepared for sacrifice, and if Jishka killed him at the moment when he was open to her power, his soul would be corrupted and flung into the Darkworld. Except that he was tar'merin. Yet, while that protected him from damnation, it would not prevent his death. With the goddess so close to him, however, there was no way to warn him of his danger.

  Communication between angels and gods was one way, so she could not pray to him. She toyed with the idea of finding someone who could, but that would mean leaving his side for several minutes, and in that time he might be killed. If she stayed, she might be able to prevent that, even if it meant that Jishka would escape. She hooked her fingers into the Channel's wall, ready to tear it open and step forth if necessary.

  Jishka leant over Bane, feeding him sugared fruits, licking her lips and fingers as she drew him deeper into her deceitful spell. It sickened Syrin, who longed to step out and spoil the seduction, if only to put an end to the nauseating sight. Jishka leant closer, her gown slipping off one shoulder, and Bane seemed to enjoy it, smiling as if entranced. Jishka slid her hands over his chest, tracing its contours and gliding up his neck to twine in his hair.

  "We could be together always, Ravan," she murmured, smiling coyly.

  "Yes."

  "I could raise you up, make you a dark god."

  "You have the power?"

  "Of course," she caressed his chest. "I have plenty of power. Would you like that?"

  "Yes, very much." He tugged at the chains again. "Free me, so that I can touch you."

  "Soon."

  "Do you think I would hurt you?"

  She giggled. "You cannot."

  "Then why -"

  "Hush." She pushed another sugary fruit into his mouth. "I want you to love me, Ravan. Do you not want to please me?"

  "Of course."

  "This pleases me." She ran her hand up his arm to touch the manacle around his wrist. "To have one so strong, yet so helpless fills me with desire."

  "Tell me how you will make me a dark god."

  "One step at a time." She stroked his cheek. "First, you must let the dark power enter your flesh, and it will change you. You will learn to use it, and it will seduce you. But before that, you will have to stop lying to me."

  He sighed. "If I fight you, you will kill me. I choose to live, even if I
do not like what you offer in return for my life. Is that such a lie?"

  "Most of your kind would rather die than worship the dark power."

  "I do not remember who I am."

  "Good." She sat up. "Are you ready to accept the dark power into your body?"

  "If I must."

  "If you wish to live, you must."

  "Then I will."

  Jishka stood up and let the dress fall into a rippled pool of gold at her feet, stepping out of it. The rest of her was as perfect as her face, and she smiled as she returned to Bane's side, confident of her conquest. She sat beside him and leant close to run her hands over him, satisfied that he was now at her mercy, and open to her power.

  Syrin's fingers tightened in the substance of the Channel, tension rising in her. Bane appeared to be relaxed, his eyes half closed, his lips curved in a trusting smile. This was the moment that Jishka had been waiting for, the moment when she could strike and claim his soul. She lowered herself onto his chest, as lissom as a snake, and as deadly. One hand slid up to his neck, the other delved into the satin sheets beside her. When she raised it, a long golden dagger glinted in her fist, and she brought it down in a blur of motion. Syrin gave a choked cry and started to tear a door in the channel.

  Bane's eyes flicked up to the weapon, widening slightly, and time stopped. Jishka froze, the dagger poised inches above his chest as he writhed, his arms becoming rigid with tension. The chains held him for only an instant, then snapped with dull reports. His hands lashed forward with all the power that had broken the chains, smashing into Jishka's shoulders so hard that they sank into the droge flesh as if it was putty. The dagger was knocked from her hand, then Bane's hold on time broke, and she screamed. Bane gripped her shoulders, which reformed swiftly to their smooth perfection. Syrin closed the doorway she had opened in the Channel. Bane sat up, and his nostrils flared as he looked down at Jishka.

  "Do anything stupid, goddess, and I will destroy you."