Demon Lord IV - Lord of Shadows

by T C Southwell

  "I see." He contemplated the altar's virgin surface for several minutes. The silence was so intense that a pin dropping would have sounded like a thunderclap. The runes of power and protection in the front of the altar stone were inactive, and he laid his hand upon it. Shadows oozed from his fingers, and several officials retreated from its chill. The seven runes that he had used to banish the dark power formed in the stone, then another set of five appeared, and he activated them with a gesture. He turned to Kyan, who gazed at the new runes.

  "I have made it a lodestone," Bane said, his words carrying to every corner of the temple. "It will draw dark power into itself and send it below. No black mage will be able to retain his power within these walls, and it will cleanse corrupted people. Demons that touch it will be vanquished, but it can do nothing to a dark god. If innocent blood is ever spilt upon it, it will turn to dust, and in its turning to dust, this temple and all in it will be destroyed."

  Kyan met his eyes. "Even a dark god?"

  "No." Bane smiled. "A dark god is too powerful to be destroyed in this fashion. It may injure him, and if he is weak it might cast him down, but I doubt it."

  "It is a wonderful gift, My Lord. Thank you."

  "It is an object of evil power, Kyan. Never mistake it for anything else. Now it is time for me to leave."

  "Your presence amongst us has been a great boon, Lord. It will be inscribed in the annals of our history in the most reverend manner, and remembered for all time. Our descendants will honour you, if you ever choose to return. We hope that our gratitude and worship please you, and wish that you fare well for all time."

  Shrea stepped forward and echoed the Queen's last words, followed by Kimera and Patrin. Bane looked impatient, and groaned as a priest in gold-trimmed robes strode to the front of the assembly and cried, "All hail the Demon Lord!"

  Everyone sank to their knees, echoing the priest's words. Bane held out his hand to Mirra, and Moved as she took it.

  Kayos dismissed his Eye as Bane appeared just outside the gazebo and entered it, sinking down on the third couch that Drayshina formed with a wave of her hand to accommodate him. Mirra joined him, and Grem and Mithran lounged in a cloud bush not far away. They waved.

  "Welcome, My Lord," Drayshina murmured with a smile.

  Bane nodded. "Greetings, goddess."

  "So you did not find the people as tiresome as you thought they would be?" Kayos enquired.

  "They asked a lot of questions."

  "Naturally.

  Bane smiled. "Yes, I suppose so."

  "Are you ready to continue our journey?"

  "Have you granted all of Syrin's favours?"

  "Yes, and Drayshina granted the one that you incurred when you asked her to bring a healer for Tarris."

  Bane inclined his head to the goddess, who smiled. He turned to Kayos. "You say that angels have no power, yet Syrin seems able to do many things."

  Kayos chuckled. "I thought you might be curious about her. She has a number of abilities, nothing more. The six Grey Gods who brought angels into being strived for perfection without creating gods, but it was not a good idea. They are immortal, but they can be killed. They weave their cocoons of concealment from the air, and they use the invisible Channels that network everything."

  "Can we also use these Channels?"

  "No. We have power, and therefore cannot enter one. They were given the ability to use the Channels so that they could serve us better, carrying messages between us. At first they served us willingly, but then we created domains and peopled them. The angels disliked the mortals' suffering, and sought to help them, but in some instances they could not, so they asked for favours in return for their aid."

  "Why do you allow suffering?"

  Kayos sipped his ambrosia. "How do you suggest that we prevent it? We cannot stand by every person to guard them, nor can we provide boundless food for the hungry. At times we do intervene, but for the most part we find that, since we gave humans the gift of free will, they must make of their lives what they will. Suffering is regrettable, yet at times, good comes of it. Struggle builds the spirit and teaches important lessons, pain strengthens and bestows compassion. Without it, life would be dull."

  "My pain did not bestow compassion, it caused bitterness."

  "The evil actions of one being caused yours, not the struggle to survive." Kayos paused, considering Bane. "Angels do not suffer, yet they are unhappy with their lot. They blame their creators, quite rightly, for giving them useless, dull lives. They envy the mortals' short lifespan and constant rebirth into new, exciting lives. And the mortals, of course, revile their lot, so, while we created beings who suffer and others who do not, neither are content."

  Bane chuckled. "It must be hard, to be you."

  Kayos smiled and waved away his cup. "Even we suffer, Bane. My granddaughter requires your aid, so let us be on our way."

  Bane gazed up at the vast Realm Gate as it began to glow and chime, wondering what lay in store for them beyond it. Mirra's hand tightened on his, and he met her eyes with a smile. Whatever was to come, he was glad she was at his side, despite the danger. He glanced at his father, who smiled. Mithran's eyes held a wealth of pride and love, and Bane was glad that he seemed to have come to terms with his repugnance for the darkness his son wielded.

  The chiming stopped, and the dull grating of the gigantic lock disengaging echoed around the Gate Hall. The mighty portal swung open with ponderous majesty to reveal the shivering darkness that awaited them beyond. Kayos cast Drayshina a last warm smile and strode through it. Bane glanced at the goddess, who raised a hand in farewell, then followed the Grey God. Mirra clung to his hand, and Mithran and Grem picked up their bundles and fell in behind.

  *****

  The tale continues in Book V, God Realm, followed by Book VI, Dark Domain, and others.

  About the author

  T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and moved to the Seychelles when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa.

  T. C. Southwell has written over forty novels and five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art, and she earns a living in the IT industry.

  All illustrations and cover designs by the author.

  Visit the Demon Lord blog: http://www.demon-lord-book.blogspot.com

  Acknowledgements

  Mike Baum and Janet Longman, former employers, for their support, encouragement, and help. My mother, without whose financial support I could not have dedicated myself to writing for ten years. Isabel Cooke, former agent, whose encouragement and enthusiasm led to many more books being written, including this one. Suzanne Stephan, former agent, who has helped me so much over the past six years, and Vanessa Finaughty, good friend and business partner, for her support, encouragement and editing skills.