Demon Lord V - God Realm

by T C Southwell

  Bane turned away and lay down beside Mirra, who had been placed on a blanket close to the fire, pulling his cloak over them. She stirred, sighed, and slipped her arms around him. He sat up and held her close, stroking her hair. Sarrin's eyes burnt at the confusion on the girl's face and the utter relief on Bane's. Mirra glanced around at the others, who gazed at her with varying degrees of delight.

  "What happened?"

  Bane chuckled, shaking his head.

  She tensed and pulled away to look up at him. "You are hurt! Your ankle... and your arm... and here..." her hand crept to the wound in his side, inflicted by Morvanor. "And your eyes... Bane, what is wrong with your eyes?" Her voice rasped with dread.

  "It will heal. Are you all right?"

  "Yes." Mirra tugged at the bandage. "Let me see your eyes."

  He tried to capture her frantic hands. "Leave it; there is nothing you can do."

  "I must see." She shook off his hands and untied the knot that held the bandages in place. The others held their breath as she unwound the cloth with shaking hands, her expression anguished. When the last strip fell away, Bane bowed his head again and rubbed his eyes. She gripped his chin and lifted his head, turning it to the light.

  "Open your eyes." He sighed, trying to rub them again, but she pulled his hands away. "Stop that. Open your eyes; let me see."

  Bane obeyed, revealing pure white orbs.

  Mirra gave a choked sob. "Goddess..." She clasped the sides of his head and studied his eyes, her own overflowing. "You are blind."

  He smiled. "I noticed that."

  "How did this happen? How long ago?"

  "Vampire acid, about four, five days ago now."

  Mirra glanced at Sarrin, who bit her lip. "What did you do when it happened?"

  The old priestess described her remedies, and Mirra nodded, turning back to study Bane's eyes again. Her hands caressed his face in frantic little stroking motions, her expression anguished. Bane captured her hands and kissed the palm of one.

  "It is all right, do not fret so."

  "It is not all right! I must heal you! We must find some sunlight."

  He nodded. "We will. Hush now, do not weep."

  Mirra sobbed and freed her hands to clasp his face again, leaning closer to rain kisses on his cheeks and brow. "I am so sorry..."

  "Stop it. It is not your fault."

  "If only I could heal you!"

  "You will. It is all right." Bane pulled her close, stilling her frantic caresses by holding her firmly until she gave up trying to free herself and relaxed with a shuddering sigh. He bowed his head and buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes. "I am glad you are unharmed. That is all that matters to me."

  "But you are hurt." She squirmed. "Let me tend to your wound."

  Bane released her, and she helped him to remove his cloak and shirt so she could bind the rapier wound with strips of cloth that Grem tore from an old robe. She kept glancing at Bane's closed eyes with obvious anguish and despair, and Sarrin's heart ached for her. Mirra rebandaged his eyes, winding the ragged cloth around his shining hair. What it must be, Sarrin mused, to love a mortal god, and to be loved by him. How wonderful, and dreadful, when he must fight the horrors of the darkness, and risk his life so often. She tried to imagine what it must be like to live with the constant dread of losing him, to tend his wounds after the battles and share his pain.

  Tears ran down Mirra's cheeks as she stroked the shining wings of hair that framed his face. Sarrin contemplated how terrible it must be to love someone so beautiful, and to see him crippled and suffering, but be unable to help him. She found it hard to see him like this, so for Mirra it must be pure torture. Bane captured her hands again and lay down with a sigh, pulled her close and covered them with his cloak. Sarrin turned away to gaze into the fire.

  Chapter Ten

  Faithless

  Kayos' shield deflected a bolt of shadow, flashing blue as it was struck. He leapt back as Torvaran charged, a white wall shooting up in the dark god's path. He rebounded off it and staggered back. They had repeated the same moves so many times now that it was becoming a familiar dance whose steps Kayos was able to predict. Torvaran had left five times to Gather more power, and the area had darkened considerably. The dark god stopped and lowered his arms, a slight smile twisting his thin lips.

  "So, a good battle indeed. Most enjoyable. One almost worthy of me, but perhaps it is time to stop toying with you."

  Kayos yawned. "Good, I was getting bored."

  "Then I shall have to remedy that. At least you have more courage than most, some of whom even begged for their lives. They were fools to expect mercy from a dark god."

  The Grey God shrugged. "My kind expects to find some goodness in even the most unexpected places, and sometimes we do."

  "You speak of the treacherous tar'merin. Often have I longed to meet one, so I could destroy him."

  "I am surprised you even know about them. They are so rare that few have ever met one."

  Torvaran smiled. "I am well educated."

  Kayos stifled another yawn. After more than a week of constant battling, his need for sleep was growing and his reflexes were slowing. Bane was certainly taking his time recovering, but that was to be expected, and as yet Kayos was not worried. He wondered what Torvaran planned next, and whether it was not perhaps time to retreat into his shields and wait for Bane. Three fire demons stood nearby, the remnants of the last twenty Torvaran had summoned to keep Kayos occupied while he went to Gather more power. Torvaran raised his arms, and Kayos prepared himself for the next phase of the battle.

  Bane jerked awake as someone shook him, and Sarrin whispered, "Lord, there is something you should see."

  For five days they had wandered in the God Realm, their numbers dwindling as dark beasts picked off stragglers or they fell prey to natural hazards and traps. They had slain two dark beasts, whose meat sustained them, but they were all hungry except for Bane and those who had the courage to share his ambrosia. Since they had to drink it from the cup he held, only his group, Artan and some of his men partook. The rest stayed as far away from him as they could, despite the fact that they needed his protection. There was much disagreement amongst them as to whether Bane was bad, good, or somewhere in between.

  Even though he had cast out the shadows, they feared him. While this did not surprise Bane, it did annoy him, and he had no sympathy for those who would not trust him after he had clearly demonstrated his good intentions. It seemed the stigma of a dark god was such that even his actions were dismissed by some as ploys to gain their trust for some other, evil intention. Ethra had regained her strength after three days on a litter that four men from Frendar's town carried.

  Bane had called the steeds, and rode behind Mirra on Kess. His ankle still hurt, and only a little of his strength had returned. Mirra's lapse of consciousness had not affected her health, possibly due to her healing powers, even though the last of it had been used to save her from the vampire's attack.

  From what Mirra and Sarrin had told him, the terrain had remained reasonably innocuous. They had avoided areas that looked dangerous, but had not found a domain. Not even a dead one, which made Bane wonder what they were doing wrong. With no real days to mark the time, the people slept when they grew tired and ate when they had food. Bane rubbed the bandages over his eyes, which itched.

  "What is it?"

  "Two people, Lord. I think they are gods. A man and a woman."

  Bane sat up and stretched. "What makes you think they are gods?"

  "The man looks strange, and the woman is wondrously fair."

  Bane tried to relieve an itch under the stone cast, frowning when he could not reach it. Itches plagued him, and he hated the dirt that had worked its way into his clothes. "That does not mean they are gods."

  "The man clings to her, and she seems... distressed. She weeps, Lord, and he mocks her. If she is a light goddess, and you free her, she might heal you."

  Bane sighed. "More likely s
he will flee. I am a dark god too, after all."

  "But if you free her..."

  "She will think I am trying to steal her."

  "Is there not still a chance that she will help you?"

  He shrugged, scratching the cast in frustration. "I doubt it. I would like to help, but I do not think I should confront another dark god right now."

  "Will you not at least look?"

  Bane considered. For the last few days he had been wondering what was happening to Kayos, and it would be good to know that the Grey God was all right, even if he could not help him yet. If he summoned enough power to far-see, he could do both.

  "Very well."

  "Thank you, Lord."

  Bane stood up, favouring his sprained ankle, and summoned the dark power. It trickled into him, so slight that he strained to pull anything from the surroundings, which could only mean that they were in a light place. It took several minutes to Gather enough to far-see, then sight returned with a rush of bright colour that made his head spin. He sank down on a rock and surveyed the drab, barren ridges of buff stone that surrounded them. Artan had probably chosen to travel this way because the region was so innocuous.

  A dull grey sky stretched away to darker regions on either side, and ahead it brightened. When he had travelled with Kayos, all the interesting places, and especially the domains, had been in dark, dangerous areas. That might explain why they had encountered no domains, but he was in no condition to insist that the group venture into a dangerous area on the off chance that it might find a domain. Nor was he in any condition to take on a dark god. Even the slight amount of dark power he had summoned gnawed at him, and he longed to cast it out again.

  The people were gaunt, bedraggled and despondent, covered in dust and streaked with sweat. Mirra gazed at him with a slight smile, looking a little thinner, her hair bound in a practical plait. Ethra also smiled at him, her eyes hollow with fatigue, and Sarrin had lost weight. If they carried on stumbling around in the God Realm, they were all going to die.

  "This way, Lord," Sarrin urged, walking towards a rocky outcrop. Artan, Grem and Mithran lay on the sloping stone, gazing at something below them. Bane shook his head and expanded the far-see beyond the barrier.

  A man in a blood-red robe strode across a dusty bowl towards them. A slight woman stumbled beside him, her head bowed, skeins of shining white hair hiding her face. Bane expanded the vision to study the woman's shimmering gown, which appeared to be made of diamond lace. He switched his attention back to the man, who had reddish skin and glowing green eyes beneath heavy brow ridges that swept up into short horns. Most of his scalp was bald, save for a fringe of grey hair at the back. Black lines marked his face in a symmetrical pattern, outlined his eyes and flat nose, bracketed his mouth and ran down his chin from his lower lip. A faint blue nimbus surrounded him, and blue fire blazed where he gripped the woman's arm in a clawed hand.

  Bane returned his far-see to Sarrin, who watched him. "You are right, they are gods. It looks like he has captured her, and is taking her somewhere, to a domain perhaps, or in search of a realm seed so she can create one for him to rule."

  "Will you help her?"

  Bane shook his head. "Much as I would like to, it would only weaken me further, and she will not help me."

  "You do not know that. We are all going to die if we carry on like this. We are tired, and starving. Twelve people have already perished. You alone can survive in this place, but, try as you might, you cannot provide for us or protect us. We know you are sick and injured, which is why we need her to heal you, then you will be able to take care of us, or perhaps she will allow us to go to her domain. We could pray to her, tell her that you mean her no harm, but will free her."

  "You do not know her name." Bane rubbed his brow. "We will stop and rest."

  "We have no food."

  "If these people would trust me, they would not be hungry. It is their own foolishness that..." He sighed, shaking his head.

  "Why are you so afraid to fight him?"

  "There is no point."

  "Why not ask her if she will help us, and if she agrees, free her."

  "You think it so easy?"

  "Your doubts weaken you. You are afraid of the dark power, are you not?"

  Bane scratched the cast again, frowning, and she swung away, her expression despairing. He glanced at his wife, who also looked away, biting her lip. Clearly she was torn between her wish for him to save the goddess, and fear for his life.

  Artan sat up and shouted, "Ethra!"

  Bane raised his head and focussed the far-see on the girl, who ran across the dusty valley towards the dark god and his companion. Sarrin ran to Artan's side and would have gone after the girl, but he grabbed her arm.

  "Let me go! We have to go after her!" Sarrin struggled.

  "Don't be an idiot," Artan said. "That's suicide." He gestured at the two distant figures. "That's a dark god."

  "That is why we have to get her back!"

  "It's too late. He must have seen her by now."

  "You are just going to let her die?"

  Artan glanced at Bane. "There's nothing we can do."

  The Demon lord cursed and strode past them, becoming invisible just before he stepped out from behind the ridge. Ethra was halfway to the couple, who seemed to have made little progress towards the ridge. Bane broke into a trot, his ankle protesting.

  Alarms broke the stillness of the stealth ship Retribution's main observation room, and vigilantor Montar stiffened, staring at his screen. The two other crewmembers who manned the complex equipment in the observation room looked at him, their faces tense with anticipation and excitement, mixed with trepidation. He frowned and rolled his chair over to another console, studying the glowing screen on it. Commander Nikira came over to view the screen he had just left. Montar glanced up at her, his heart pounding with excitement.

  "We have one!"

  Nikira peered at the screen, which showed the barren sandy valley they had been staking out for several weeks now. The holograms of the dra'voren and his victim strode in the centre of it. A ragged, filthy girl ran towards them, her gaunt face twisted with effort and determination, her mouth open to gasp. She seemed to have little strength, and stumbled frequently.

  Nikira's brows rose. "Her?"

  "No. He's invisible, a short distance behind her, in pursuit." Montar tapped the screen. "I'm tracking him with the scanners."

  "Can we save her?"

  Montar shook his head. "He'll catch up with her before she enters the trap."

  "Poor thing. Where did he come from?"

  "He appeared from beyond that ridge of rock." Montar rolled his chair back and indicated the screen she observed. It showed the live image from the external cameras, and he pointed at a buff ridge at the edge of the picture.

  "Zoom in."

  Montar ran his fingers over the console's complex arrangement of glowing keys, and the image expanded. A group of people hid behind the ridge, staring down at the fleeing child.

  "His slaves?"

  Montar rolled his chair over to the other console again and awoke another screen. His deft fingers animated it with swift touches on the glowing areas of the board. "Possibly. They're just people. Although..." He leant closer, frowning. "There are three creatures of darkness with them. They look like horses."

  "We'll have to rescue them. Are you still tracking him?"

  Montar's eyes flicked to his primary scanner screen, and he nodded. "He's on his way."

  Commander Nikira straightened and turned to the rest of the observation crew. "All right, back to your stations. Notify containment to warm up the shredders. We've got ourselves a dra'voren."

  Bane slowed, eyeing the dark god and his captive, who appeared to be oblivious to Ethra, now only a few feet from them. The girl looked puzzled as she approached them, panting from her wild run across the valley. Still, the two gods gave no indication that they had noticed her, and Bane wondered if they were merely ignoring her, or
if they were somehow unable to see her.

  The horrors and mysteries of the God Realm were manifold, he mused, but this was perhaps the strangest phenomenon yet. He was almost close enough now to extend his cloak of invisibility to Ethra, but wondered if he needed to, since the two gods appeared to be unaware of her. Ethra stopped and glanced back with a puzzled frown, then walked closer to the couple. Bane longed to call her back, but that would give away his presence, and he hoped to save her without a confrontation.

  Ethra sank to her knees a few feet ahead and to one side of the captive goddess and stretched out her hands in a gesture of pleading. "Help us, great goddess! Here is one who can free you, if you will only promise to heal him. Don't fear him, he's tar'merin." She glanced back again. "He's around here somewhere, I'm sure. Just promise to heal him, and he'll free you."

  The goddess and her captor ignored the girl, and Bane frowned, studying them. Their legs moved, but they stayed in the same place, as if caught up in some sort of trap that held them fast.

  Nikira leant over Montar's shoulder to gaze into the screen. "What's she saying?"

  "Can't hear."

  "Don't we have any microphones out there?"

  He shook his head. "I would say that she's probably begging our lovely, but long-dead Sharnian for help."

  "Fat lot of good that would have done her, even if they were real. The dra'voren would have killed her already if they were. Where's the new dra'voren?"

  Montar scooted across to the other console and consulted the scanner screen. "He's close. He's stopped just outside the field area."

  "You think he's getting suspicious?"

  "He's certainly very cautious."

  Nikira studied the scanner screen, which showed the ghostly outline of a tall, human-type man with an exceptionally fine physique, but that was normal for a dra'voren. They were always the most perfectly formed of their species. The only unusual thing about this one was his utterly human appearance. He had no alien features at all. Just let him take two more steps, she mused, and he would be on his way to the shredders to be torn apart, ridding the universe of one more of his foul kind.