Demon Lord V - God Realm

by T C Southwell

  Ethra cast another puzzled glance over her shoulder, then stood up and approached the two gods. Bane stepped towards her, concerned for her safety. Ethra reached the goddess' side and tried to tug on her gown, but her hand passed right through it.

  "They're illusions!" she cried, and walked around to pass her hand through the dark god's form. She sank down on the sand in an attitude of intense despair, bowing her head.

  Bane stared at the illusory gods, wondering who cast the image, and why. Ethra buried her face in her hands and wept. Becoming visible, Bane walked towards her.

  "Come, Ethra, let us go back now."

  She looked up at him, tears making runnels in the dust on her cheeks. "I knew you'd come after me."

  "What you did was stupid, and I am not happy with you. If these two had been real, you could have been killed."

  Bane became aware of a deep, droning hum emanating from all around him, too low for normal people to hear, and stopped, glancing around.

  "You'd have saved me," Ethra muttered, knuckling her eyes.

  Bane held out his hand. "Come, quickly. I dislike this place."

  Montar recoiled when the dra'voren became visible, and Nikira gasped, staring at the image. He was certainly impressive, despite the tattered blindfold he wore. She held her breath as he walked into the field area. The child looked up at him and spoke, then wept. The dra'voren said something to her and extended his hand.

  "He's going to kill her! Quick Montar!"

  "Just another few seconds."

  "Now! Hurry!"

  Nikira gripped the back of Montar's chair with white-knuckled hands. Alarms whooped, filling the air with a cacophony of ear-piercing sound. Montar's hands flew over his console, powering up the vast generators that would capture the dra'voren. Nikira bit her lip, then Montar's flying fingers grew still, and the ship shuddered.

  "Trap activated."

  Ethra started to stand up, reaching for Bane's hand. A brilliant flash of blue engulfed them, and she screamed. Bane lunged towards her and grabbed her hand as he became weightless. A biting chill shot through him, numbing his extremities. He tumbled through the blue light, pulling Ethra into his arms in an effort to shield her from the intense cold. She screamed again and wound her arms around his neck so tightly that she almost cut off his air. Her shriek, so close to his ear, nearly deafened him.

  Bane barely had time to realise that they were in a trap before the blue light and cold vanished, and he fell onto a hard floor. Ethra sprawled beside him, shrieking again. The impact jarred his broken arm, cracking the cast, and he grunted. Lights danced in his head, blurring his far-see, and he writhed, tasting blood. Something hit him with a vicious thump, and everything went black.

  Nikira raced into the containment room, Montar hard on her heels, and almost bowled over a technician who sprinted across her path. She avoided him and ran over to the observation window of the shredder chamber, where more technicians clustered.

  "Did we get him?"

  The senior containment technician, Enyo, turned and nodded, his expression grim. "And the girl child."

  "Is she alive?"

  "Yes."

  Nikira elbowed a young technician aside and took his place at the two-inch thick armoured glass observation window. The dra'voren lay on his side, his long black cloak spread over and around him, revealing a gleaming crimson lining, like satin. He was dressed entirely in black, his tunic patterned in the front with abstract gold designs. The girl lay close beside him, on his cloak, her arms around his neck.

  "Poor child, she must have been terrified to cling to that monster."

  "Let's get her out of there."

  Enyo went over to the armoured door and tapped in the digital code that unlocked it. The ovoid portal sank inwards and slid open with a hiss. He darted inside, scooped up the girl, and hastened back out. Another technician closed it and tapped in the locking code. Nikira pitied the ragged girl. He handed her to a waiting medical technician, who bore her off to the ship's hospital.

  The containment techs returned to their consoles to start the sequence that would culminate in the dra'voren's shredding. Nikira turned back to the window and gazed at the man-like creature that lay within its foot-thick steel walls. He had some strange features for a dra'voren. Not only the ragged blindfold, but what appeared to be a stone accoutrement on his left arm.

  Then again, she reminded herself, dra'voren came in all shapes and sizes, although this one was the most human looking she had seen. She frowned and peered at his face in surprise. A crimson liquid, which looked like blood, oozed from his mouth. Curious, she mused, but it was far too dangerous to even consider examining him, strange though he was.

  "Shred him," she ordered.

  The contechs tapped their consoles, and Montar studied the dra'voren as he waited for the satisfying sight of the shredding. Nikira put her hand on his shoulder.

  "A good day's work. One less to destroy worlds and creators."

  Montar nodded, his brown eyes bright with anticipation. Within the shredder room, five black lodestones emerged from their niches in the walls, each the size of a man's head. Oscillating light guns on the walls rotated, their tips glowing as they warmed up. A technician ran his hand over his console, and lines of blue fire spat from the guns in a web of blinding light. Nikira put on a pair of dark glasses and handed another pair to Montar as the flashes speeded up, filling the chamber with flickering incandescence. Through it, Nikira could make out the dravoren's still form. She frowned. His substance should have been warping and sloughing off, but he remained unchanged.

  "Commander, come and look at this."

  Nikira turned to the senior contech, who stood frowning at a scanner screen. "What is it?"

  "He's not there anymore."

  "What do you mean? I can see him there, as clear as you."

  Enyo gestured at the screen. "I mean, he's not on the scanner anymore. According to that, he's not a dra'voren. He's alive."

  "What?" Nikira shook her head. "That's impossible. He was a dra'voren when we captured him. He was on the scanners!"

  "Well, he's not now."

  She swung back to the observation window and stared at the man who lay in the midst of the flickering blue light, unharmed by their only weapon against dra'voren. "Montar, you saw him. He was invisible, and he showed up on the scanners."

  "Of course he did. He set off all the alarms. He's a damned dra'voren."

  "Then why isn't he shredding?"

  "Buggered if I know." Montar scowled.

  Enyo came to stand beside them. "He's alive."

  "So you've said," Nikira snapped. "But need I remind you that what you're saying is impossible? There's no such thing as a living dra'voren. And if he's alive, why haven't the guns burnt him? There's enough fire in there to parboil an army."

  Enyo shook his head. "What I want to know is what the hell are we going to do with him now?"

  "Turn off the shredder."

  Montar murmured, "If he's not on the scanner any more, he might be relatively safe to examine."

  "How safe?"

  "Anaesthetise him and put him in a stasis field. We can't take any chances."

  "How the hell did he stop being a dra'voren?"

  Montar stared at the black-clad man in the containment chamber as the light died. "He didn't."

  "If he's not on the scanners, how can he be a dra'voren?"

  "I don't know, but we've got to find out. He may be a new breed that we must learn how to deal with."

  "Perhaps we should see if he can be killed like a normal human."

  Montar nodded. "Our examination will tell us that. He's still incapacitated, which is odd. A dra'voren should have recovered from the stunner by now. Let's wait for him to move and then gas him. If that doesn't work, we know the stunner does."

  Nikira turned to frown at the man in the chamber again. This was not going to plan, and she disliked surprises. "What's happening with his slaves?"

  "We've sent out a tea
m to collect them. They should be here soon."

  "Make sure you decontaminate them thoroughly."

  "Of course."

  Nikira swung away. "I want that thing so thoroughly clamped down, frozen and drugged that it cannot move. Keep it in the shredder chamber with the lodestones active, just in case."

  Sarrin frowned at the spot where Bane and Ethra had vanished in a blaze of blue light. The strange gods had also disappeared. Mirra looked alarmed, and spoke to Mithran, who seemed equally puzzled. He shook his head and muttered something that sounded like an assurance. Artan cast Sarrin a puzzled glance.

  "Where did they go?"

  "Perhaps Bane made them invisible, and the other two did the same."

  "And the blue light?"

  She shook her head. "He can use the blue power, but he wouldn't do that against a dark god. Unless he's so afraid of the dark power now that he tried."

  "Or they fell into a trap, like the one he found us in."

  "If so, we're doomed."

  A cry of fear made them swing around, and Sarrin gasped. A vast silver ovoid had appeared several hundred yards away, as if from thin air, and hung just above the ground. Everyone gaped at it, some of the women wailing in terror, and the men picked up faggots of firewood, preparing for battle. Artan's hand flew to his sword hilt, and he stood frozen, staring at the amazing object. Mithran and Grem stepped in front of Mirra, grasping their weapons too. The steeds pranced, one rearing. A portal slid open in the ovoid's belly and a ramp extended from it. Moments later, several man-like beings emerged from a brightly lighted interior and walked down the ramp. Some carried short silver sticks; others bore what looked like platters.

  "Armorgan's teeth! What the hell are those?" Artan said.

  "They look like men," Sarrin replied.

  The beings wore silver tunics and trousers, thick soled boots and strange black helmets with odd gadgets protruding in front of their faces. As they approached the grimy crowd, the women sought safety at the back of the throng, leaving the men to face the strangers, hefting their makeshift weapons. Artan drew his sword and marched forward to confront the strangers, followed by his soldiers and Juvo. Sarrin hesitated, and then hurried after them. Mirra hung back, and Grem and Mithran stayed with her.

  The strangers stopped a few feet away, and those who carried platters held them out to display the food on them. Cries of joy came from the starving crowd, and some members moved towards the tempting offering. Artan grabbed a man as he darted past.

  "Are you mad? It could be a trap!"

  The man jerked his arm free and strode towards the nearest silver clad being, who stepped back as if unnerved by the rush of hungry people. In moments all the food had been grabbed and stuffed into ravenous mouths, and the beings gestured to the huge ovoid, making signs that clearly meant there was more food available within it.

  Artan glanced at Sarrin. "What do you think?"

  "I do not know. Bane is gone, and perhaps they took him. We might get food in there, but if we stay here and Bane does not return, we will die."

  "They might kill us when we're inside."

  "They could kill us out here if they wanted to."

  Artan glared at the beings, who continued to wave the people towards the ship. A lot of them followed the directions, albeit with a great deal of trepidation.

  "What if Bane returns?" Artan demanded.

  "What if he does not?" Sarrin sighed. "I think they took Bane, and we should go inside and see if we can find him. He might need our help."

  "What could mere mortal beings do to a dark god?"

  "Who knows? They are strange indeed, and seem to have a good deal of power." She eyed the gleaming metal ovoid. "If they can create something like this, who knows what else they can do? Or perhaps there is a god in that thing. Bane is mortal; he can be killed as easily as any of us, or knocked unconscious. Is it not a bit of a coincidence that right after Bane vanishes, this thing appears and these beings offer us food? Perhaps he has made friends with them, or ordered them to feed us. He might be in charge."

  "Then why isn't he here to tell us himself?"

  "I do not know. Perhaps we should go inside and find out?"

  Artan nodded and headed for the silver ovoid, sheathing his sword. Sarrin glanced back at Mirra, who was embroiled in a heated discussion with Mithran and Grem, probably similar to the one she had just had with Artan, she surmised. She beckoned to them, and Mirra seemed to come to a decision. She strode after her, and Mithran and Grem followed, looking suspicious. Sarrin eyed the silver-clad beings as she passed them and entered the ovoid, hoping that she had made the right decision.

  As the steeds emerged from behind a buff ridge, following their riders, the beings who held silver tubes raised them. Blue fire spat from them and struck the leading steed, Kess. She reared with a roar, and the glamour that clothed her melted away to reveal her burning form and blazing mane and tail. Mirra swung around with a gasp and started to run back towards her, but Grem grabbed her arm. Kess dropped to all fours and snorted fire, plunging towards her attackers, then she vanished with a flash of fire and a hissing crack. The silver-clad beings turned their weapons on the remaining two steeds as the demonic beasts sprang forward, stripping them of their mundane aspects before they too vanished with flares of foul fire and hissing crackles of power.

  Mirra stood frozen, a hand clamped over her mouth as she stared at the smoking hoof prints in the dull sand. Grem tugged her towards Mithran, who also stared at the hoof prints, then stepped forward to take Mirra's arm. She turned to him, glancing at the silver-clad beings with deep trepidation. Mithran followed her gaze, but the strangers lowered their weapons and muttered strange words, then turned and headed back towards the silver ovoid.

  "It seems that they didn't like our steeds," Grem commented.

  "Can't say I blame them," Mithran replied.

  Mirra lowered her hand. "We needed them."

  "Bane will summon more. Come, let's go and see if he's in that thing."

  "If he is, he certainly did not tell them to banish the steeds."

  "All the more reason to find out what's happened to him. He might need our help."

  "At last," Grem muttered.

  Chapter Eleven

  Torment

  Nikira studied the screen, frowning. The thin, filthy people filed into one of the empty holds, their eyes flitting around. Many cringed and whimpered as they walked through the disinfectant mist wall at the door, wiping their damp faces afterwards and sniffing their hands. A small group caught her eye, six large men armed with swords, a fair-haired girl and a frail elderly woman in a dirty white robe. They stayed together, the men clustering around the women as if to protect them. Servitors distributed food to the people, who rushed forward to snatch it up and cram it into their mouths. The elderly woman sat down on one of the air mattresses that had been deployed in the hold, and the girl sat beside her, looking nervous. Two of the armed men left them to fetch food, showing more discipline than the rest, who acted like rabble.

  "They're starving," she murmured.

  Montar, who stood beside her, nodded. "What do you expect? They're a dra'voren's slaves."

  "Can we communicate with them?"

  "No, but the linguistics personnel are working on it."

  "Good. Has the girl woken up yet?"

  "No."

  Nikira turned to the observation window, where the dra'voren lay unmoving. "Are the containment teams ready to go in there?"

  Montar nodded. "First we're going to pump enough gas in there to put a herd of elephants to sleep. They've made up a table with clamps strong enough to hold an elephant, too, and if that's not enough, they've got a stasis field generator."

  "How did they manage that so quickly?"

  "They're a resourceful bunch. The portable stasis field generator is standard issue, but strong enough to hold about ten people. The clamps were a little harder to make so fast, but they managed."

  "Let's do it then. I want to g
et a closer look at this dra'voren."

  Montar left, and Nikira moved closer to the observation window, peering at the dra'voren. A puddle of blood had congealed on the floor next to his mouth. The thought of getting close to him, without the impregnable barrier of the armoured glass between them, made her shiver. She had hunted dra'vorens since she had finished her training ten years ago, and in that time they had destroyed only three. Finding them was hard, but she had discovered, since taking command of Retribution, that following a trail of destroyed domains sometimes led to their destroyer.

  Montar appeared at her elbow, looking excited and nervous. "They're pumping the gas in through the door, since there's no ventilation system in there."

  Nikira turned to watch the contechs feed a rubber hose in through the door, which had been opened just enough to admit it. As soon as the nozzle was inside, a man turned the knob on the cylinder, and gas hissed from the hose. Still the dra'voren remained unmoving, and she wondered if he was shamming. After several minutes, the gas was switched off and the hose withdrawn. The senior medtech, Jona, came in and peered at the dra'voren. He glanced at the chronometer on the wall and turned to Nikira.

  "If he's alive, he's either asleep by now, or dead."

  She nodded. "Let's do it then."

  Three armed contechs donned gas masks and entered the chamber, walking warily around the dra'voren. One approached and poked him, getting no reaction, then moved closer and gripped his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. All three leapt back as the dra'voren flopped over, his right arm sliding off his chest to fall limply onto the floor. The contech moved closer again and laid a hand on the dra'voren's neck.

  "He's alive." The contech's tinny voice came from the intercom. "He has a pulse, and he appears to be unconscious."