Demon Lord V - God Realm

by T C Southwell

  She touched his chest and examined the blood on her fingers. "This is not an illusion?"

  Bane sighed. "Right now I cannot even form an illusion, priestess. Your god's shackles prevent me from using my power. I am helpless."

  Perhaps, if he could convince them that he was harmless, they would spare him. If he had claimed to be immortal they might well have tested him, considering that they thought everything he said was a lie. By telling the truth, and in doing so placing himself at their mercy, he hoped to convince them that he could be trusted. Then again, they might still test the validity of his words, with fatal consequences, so either way he was in grave danger. Being at the mercy of these strangers was a novel and extremely unpleasant situation, he found.

  He looked at Ethra. "You may even get your heart's desire, Ethra. I expect you will be allowed to kill me now."

  The young seeress looked away, frowning, and Artan leant closer, drawing Bane's eyes to him. "Let me be certain of this. You're a demigod?"

  Bane considered agreeing with that, in the hopes that it would make them less inclined to kill him, but discarded the notion. "No, Artan. There is nothing demi about me." He chuckled mirthlessly. This was not how he had thought to die. He looked at the shackles, and the metal flowed, shimmering. Bane met Artan's eyes. "I am a god."

  Artan glanced at Sarrin, who nodded. "Even a demigod could not have survived the torture of the Dre'beth runes, and only a god can change metals, which is what he is trying to do to the shackles."

  Artan looked down at Bane. "You're a dark god."

  "Yes." Bane smiled. "No. I am tar'merin."

  Sarrin now looked stunned, and stared at Bane's chest, where the blood had started to vanish. "I should have known. Had I seen these runes before I would have. He is a dark god, but whether or not he is tar'merin I cannot tell."

  "What is tar'merin?" Artan demanded, frowning.

  Bane studied Sarrin, surprised that she knew what a tar'merin was. He had only mentioned it to confuse them, not thinking that any of them would know.

  "It is... “She raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening." But he has proven it already!"

  "I have?" Bane looked puzzled now.

  "You saved Ethra."

  "And you do not think that was only to gain your trust?"

  She frowned. "Perhaps. But if you are mortal, you risked your life to save her. A true dark god would not do that."

  "How do we know that anything he says is true?" Ethra demanded. "It could all be lies! The blood could be an illusion. He might not be mortal at all!"

  "The only way I could prove that is if you kill me," Bane murmured.

  "We should kill him now, before he spins any more lies." The demon pushed his way to the front of the group, drawing his sword with a hiss of steel. Artan stood up to confront him, and the demon punched him in the face, sending him sprawling. Before the other soldiers could react, the fiend loomed over Bane, swung his sword point down and thrust it at the Demon Lord's chest. Bane rolled aside a split second before it plunged into him. The demon plucked it from the soil and swung it high.

  Artan's men flung themselves at him, but he smashed them aside with powerful blows that knocked more than one of them unconscious. Bane tried to rise to his feet, but his strength was only trickling back. To add to his woes, the dark power surged in response to his need, and the manacles glowed. Artan was on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his nose. Bane threw himself aside again as the demon's sword struck the ground where he had been a moment before, grinding his teeth as the dark power burnt his flesh.

  "Vertack, leave him!" Artan shouted, struggling to his feet.

  "He is a demon," Bane said, avoiding another sweep of Vertack's sword, the shackles hampering him. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the black-haired woman moving towards the priestesses. Bane rolled to his feet and staggered away as the demon lunged at him, narrowly evading the sword. Sarrin gabbled the words of exorcism, and Vertack gripped his sword in both hands, raising it high.

  Bane stepped closer and grabbed the demon's arms as he brought the sword down in a mighty stroke that would have cleft Bane in two. The Demon Lord staggered under the force of the impact, his tendons popping as if his arms were about to be ripped from their sockets. Even weakened as he was, Bane was far more of a match for a minor air demon's vast strength than a normal man. Vertack dragged Bane around as he tried to free himself, and Artan, seeing that the demon's arms were occupied, flung himself at Vertack.

  Sarrin's chant broke off with a yelp, and Bane glanced around. The black-haired woman stood over the old priestess, who lay on the ground, her lip bloodied. Ethra ran towards her, as did the younger priestess. Bane turned his attention back to his foe, who continued to drag him about as he strived to free himself. Bane hung on, but what little strength he had regained was waning. The dark power sapped it as it burnt his blood, defying his attempts to keep it leashed. The remaining soldiers followed their leader's example and attacked Vertack, their swords slicing into his droge form, but to a demon they were no more than a minor annoyance.

  "Protect the priestess!" Bane shouted. Artan glanced around, noticed Sarrin's danger and ran to her aid.

  Bane pulled Vertack closer and glared into his ink black eyes. The dark power whispered the demon's true name in his mind. "You dare to attack a dark god, Vertackavor, you will pay."

  "You are powerless, and only a puny mortal god," Vertack rasped.

  "You are ignorant, and doomed."

  Bane closed his eyes and bent his will upon the substance of Vertack's droge form. All matter was subject to his will, and Vertack's pseudo flesh was no exception. The inborn god powers were slow to manifest, however, and his inexperience in their use made them useless in the speed of a battle. Now all he had was time, though, time for his strength to dwindle to the point where he could no longer hold Vertack, time for the demon to win free and slay him. Or time to use his small skills at manipulating the elements.

  "Fire," he murmured.

  The dark power seethed like a malevolent entity in his flesh, and tears of agony leaked from his eyes as he struggled to leash it. The demon fought him, sapping his dwindling strength further. Bane gasped, and the world receded. He split his concentration with an effort. The dark power surged against his will, and the demon's droge flesh grew hot as Bane commanded it to become fire. Vertack screamed as he started to melt, then his man shape was consumed in a rush of flame.

  The demon reverted to his true form, an entity of foul, freezing air that slipped from Bane's grasp and engulfed him. The Demon Lord fell to his knees as Vertack sucked the air from his lungs, his sight dimming. Again he lashed out with his will, seeking the incorporeal substance of Vertack's new form. Needles of icy chill stabbed his skin as Vertack sought to freeze it, but the dark power within Bane protected him. Again he commanded heat, and the air around him shimmered. An explosion shredded Vertack's substance and sent Bane sprawling.

  The Demon Lord lay stunned. The explosion had winded him, and his head hammered with renewed fury. He coughed and drew in a great gasp, the blackness that nibbled at his vision receding somewhat. His muscles throbbed and his stomach heaved stinging bile into his throat. His limbs trembled with fatigue, and he longed to let the sweet darkness of oblivion wash over him. A scream jerked him from his lethargy, and he rolled onto his side, raising his head.

  The burly man was crouched over the old priestess, shielding her, while the two remaining soldiers and Artan surrounded the black-haired woman, slashing at her with their swords. The woman's hair bristled around her head in a wild mane, and she glared at her accosters with ink-black eyes. Had it not been for the foul red soul she possessed, she could have been a demon. Bane stared at her, his tired mind protesting the prospect of taking on a black sorceress at this moment. The woman flung a bolt of dark power at a soldier, sending him sprawling with a scream of pain, and Bane realised that the men had no hope of overcoming her.

  With a groan, he pushed hi
mself up, rising to his feet. His knees almost buckled with every step as he walked towards the woman. She spied him, and the flush of fury drained from her face, leaving it chalk pale. Artan tried to rush her from behind while she was distracted, but a black shield sprang up between them, and he rebounded off it with a grunt. Another soldier lunged at her from the side, but she knocked him down with a negligent flick of her hand. Bane stopped several feet away, revising his opinion of what she was.

  Her unnatural strength indicated that she was more than a black mage, yet her physical reactions told him she was mortal. Deciding that it was probably irrelevant, he approached her again. She backed away, fear shining in her eyes, and the soldiers looked at Bane for guidance. He waved them away. The woman glanced at the darkness, clearly wishing to flee but afraid to brave the creatures that dwelt in it, and he did not blame her.

  The woman flung a bolt of dark power at Bane, but it had no effect. A soldier picked up a fallen crossbow and loaded it, and she hurled another streak of shadow at him, sending him rolling with a howl. As Bane approached her, she retreated, turning in circles to stay in the light, but not allowing him to get close to her. Bane stopped. This could go on for a long time.

  With her powers, only he could defeat her, but he did not have the strength to catch her. He swayed, barely able to stand, and all he wanted to do was sink down and close his eyes. He had almost succeeded in leashing the dark power, which sat sullenly in his bones, hating its imprisonment. The woman stared at him, her breath coming in short, harsh gasps. She feared him, and he knew that she wanted to kill him. With him gone she could summon her demon again, and the people would be forced to serve and protect her. She could not kill him with the dark power, so she would have to use the dagger in her belt. To do that, however, she would have to come close to him. So long as he was capable of defending himself, she would not approach him, but if she thought that he was helpless, she might.

  Bane rolled his eyes up and let his knees buckle, slumping to the ground. A deathly silence fell, and he tracked the souls around him. The dark red one approached, slowly at first, then more quickly, and footsteps crunched in the dust beside him. He waited until she squatted down before he opened his eyes. She had drawn the dagger, but something off to the side had distracted her attention. He did not bother to see what it was, but lunged upwards and punched her on the side of the head with his manacled hands. As she fell, pain shot up his left arm. Bane sagged back, staring in surprise at the crossbow bolt that sprouted from his forearm. Shock hit him like a bucket of ice water, and darkness washed over him in a blessed tide.

  Artan cursed and dropped the crossbow to hurry over to Bane. The two soldiers followed, nursing burns from Rinath's fire, and he pointed at the black-haired woman.

  "If she's alive, tie her up, and use the chains, she'll burn through rope."

  As he knelt beside Bane, Juvo joined him, accompanied by Sarrin and Ethra. The young priestess was dead, part of her head burnt away by Rinath in the earlier battle to save Sarrin. He studied Bane, assuring himself that the dark god was truly unconscious this time, then looked at the elderly priestess.

  "Do we kill him, or help him?"

  Sarrin shook her head as she knelt between Bane and Rinath. The soldiers had found that Rinath still lived, and bound her hands with the thin chains that had once served to carry their scabbards. Sarrin pulled open Rinath's leather jacket to expose her belly. A dark red mark encircled her navel, and Artan frowned, leaning closer to examine the swirling pattern. Sarrin hissed, staring at the mark.

  "She is a demigoddess."

  Artan turned his head and spat. "I grow sick of finding deities in our midst. What about him? Is he telling the truth?"

  Sarrin looked at Bane. "In as much as he is a dark god, undoubtedly. Whether or not he is truly tar'merin I cannot tell."

  "What the hell is a tar'merin?"

  "Essentially, an uncorrupted dark god. One who is capable of doing good."

  "A good dark god?"

  Sarrin nodded. "Very rare."

  "So if he's tar'merin we should help him, but if he's not, we should kill him."

  "A dilemma indeed, but considering that he cannot use his powers, I think we are safe from him, even if he should prove to be lying. Then again, he saved Ethra and me from the dark beasts."

  "Which he probably did so we wouldn't kill him, since he's powerless."

  "Possibly." Sarrin pulled aside Bane's blood soaked shirt to examine the oozing scratches on his chest. "These are not serious. They are shallow, but you must remove the bolt from his arm."

  Artan scowled at her as she rose and walked over to the young priestess’ body. "I'm not really inclined to help a dark god after what happened to Armorgan."

  Sarrin returned with a pouch. "How long do you think we will survive with only five warriors? Rinath and Vertack fought well when we were attacked, and one of your soldiers is still unconscious. He may not recover, which would leave only four of you. Now that we know what Rinath is, we will have to keep her bound."

  "He's the reason we lost them. If he knew that Vertack was a demon, why didn't he say anything earlier?"

  "For the same reason Vertack did not tell us what Bane was. Vertack knew I would exorcise him, and Bane was afraid we would kill him. If Vertack had told us what Bane was, he would have revealed his own true identity, and they both would have been exposed."

  Artan looked thoughtful. "So that's why Vertack attacked Bane when we discovered what he was."

  "In the hope of slaying him before he could say anything, yes."

  "And Vertack was Rinath's minion, so she tried to stop you from exorcising him."

  "Exactly." Sarrin sprinkled some white powder onto the wounds in Bane's chest. "Are you going to remove the bolt?"

  "And if Bane was afraid that we would kill him, then he must be mortal."

  "Indeed. Rinath must have known that, which is why she exposed herself to save her demon, thinking that he would slay Bane."

  "And then we would have been at their mercy."

  Sarrin nodded. "Please remove the bolt, so I can dress his wound."

  Artan leant over Bane and lifted his bound arms to examine the bolt. It had gone right through, and the barbed head protruded from the other side of his forearm. The steel bolt was not fletched, and he took hold of the head, yanking it out. Sarrin rubbed some powder into the wounds and bound Bane's forearm with a strip of cloth.

  Artan studied the dark god, frowning. "If he cannot use his powers, how did he destroy the demon?"

  "He cannot use the dark power, but clearly he was born a god, so he has other powers. That is the only way he could be a tar'merin, too. A spirit god takes up the dark power of his own free will, and is therefore evil."

  "So he could be telling the truth."

  "Yes, and if he is, I wish we could remove the shackles."

  Artan gazed at the cuffs. "He could protect us."

  "Effortlessly."

  He glanced at Rinath. "So could she."

  "She would be less inclined to, since she is evil. In fact, she poses a problem, because binding her does not prevent her from using her powers. The only one who could control her is Bane, since she cannot harm him."

  "Then why did she join us?"

  Sarrin sipped water from her flask. "She is mortal, and so must sleep. Her minion was only an air demon, and the dark creatures are many. They would have killed her had she not joined us."

  "And him?"

  She smiled. "He is infinitely more powerful, and could easily survive here alone. But not anymore."

  "So if we take the shackles off, and he's not tar'merin, he could kill us all."

  "Yes."

  Artan beckoned to Juvo, who tended the fire, and the burly man came over. Artan laid a hand on his shoulder. "You were a blacksmith before, right?" Juvo nodded, and Artan indicated the shackles on Bane's wrists. "Could you break the link between those manacles?"

  Juvo leant closer to examine the cuffs. "That depe
nds on the metal."

  "Try."

  Juvo nodded and went off to find something to use as a tool, and Sarrin looked concerned. "The shackles' power might rely on their being bound together, Artan."

  "If he's tar'merin, you would want them taken off altogether."

  "Yes, but he might not be."

  "I'll just have to risk it then. With his hands unbound he'll be more useful, and if the shackles still work he won't be a threat. If they don't..." He shrugged. "We'll probably all die in here anyway."

  "I think we should kill them both," Ethra said.

  Artan scowled at her. "No one asked you. But, while you have my attention, perhaps you can explain why you didn't notice that Vertack was a demon or Rinath a demigoddess?"

  She looked away. "I don't know."

  "I do."

  Artan whipped around at the sound of Bane's soft voice. His eyes remained closed, and the warrior studied his pale visage. The dust and sweat on his skin had vanished, leaving him haggard and drawn with pain and exhaustion.

  "Why?"

  "Because Ethra is not a seeress."

  "I am!" she cried.

  "I would guess that her powers came to her recently, after the black-haired woman -"

  "Rinath."

  "- and her demon joined you."

  Artan nodded. "A few days after they joined us, Ethra told us that one of the women who were with us then would be killed during the next attack, and she was."

  "Rinath saw to that."

  "What are you saying?"

  Bane sighed. "Rinath sent the thoughts to Ethra."

  "Why?"

  "She probably thought that it would be useful, especially to weed out unwanted members of your group."

  Artan glanced at Ethra, who chewed her lip, and looked on the verge of tears. "Why didn't she claim to be a seeress herself?"

  "She did not want to draw attention to herself by claiming any powers."

  "He's lying!" Ethra snarled. "Everything that comes out of his mouth is a lie!"

  "It makes sense," Sarrin admitted.

  Artan glared at Bane. "Can you prove you're tar'merin?"

  "Only through my deeds."