When Angels Fall (Demon Lord)

by Southwell, T C

  He gestured. “Begone!”

  All the demons slumped or were snuffed out, but the runes on the walls lighted with crimson fire in a sequence that travelled around it in the blink of an eye. Bane lost his hold on time, and everything speeded up again. A sizzling crack, rather like lash of a giant whip, told him that the Fetch had been triggered. He scooped Majelin up again and made for the door, continuing to Gather so he could Move. The centre of the room blossomed into a giant, sucking black whirlpool of shadows, and he halted as Majelin became a massive burden, caught in the Fetch’s powerful pull. He swore vilely as he was swung around and dragged towards the inky vortex, hanging onto Majelin.

  The archangel was the object of the Fetch, so if he released him, he would not be drawn into it, but then Majelin was certainly doomed. The darkness swallowed him, and he fell, hanging onto Majelin’s arm as they whirled around in the sticky, septic gloom. The Fetch was powerful, and he could not Move whilst in its grip. He sensed that he was plunging into the deepest reaches of the underworld, where even demons feared to tread.

  Anticipating a magma river or worse, he strengthened the shields he had cast around the archangel. In truth, the Fetch was not designed to harm a dark god. That was almost impossible to do with the dark power. It was intended to kill whoever lay on the altar. By following Majelin, Bane had saved his life. The fall seemed interminable, and he could not slow it until it released him, nor could he command the shadows that formed it. At last, he fell free, and redness rushed up at him. He directed his power downwards in a column of fire, hanging onto Majelin as his fall slowed. Something struck his head from the side, and oblivion swallowed him.

  Chapter Three

  Black Trap

  Majelin started awake and sat up, discovered that he lay on the shore of a magma sea and scrambled away from the glowing crimson liquid that swallowed his legs to the knees. It rolled off his skin in globs, like water off a bird’s back. Molten rock oozed down the sides of a vast cavern, dripped from the roof and gurgled in sluggish streams from holes in the walls. A skin of cooling rock crazed the surface of the molten sea in a swirling pattern, indicating that it was being drawn down a drain far below. He wondered how he was alive and not even hot as he crawled further up the red-hot shore, then he stopped.

  A black-clad man lay beside him, his hand gripping Majelin’s wrist, his crimson-lined cloak flared. He possessed the perfect features and pale skin usually associated with dark gods and black mages, and his mortality made it more likely he was a black mage.

  Majelin’s first instinct was to summon the Sword of Vengeance and slay the stranger. Even if he was only a black mage, he was still a dark minion. As the archangel raised his hand, however, he paused to review his situation. The fact that he was alive in this hellish place could only mean that the mage was shielding him, and that brought another, more alarming thought.

  No black mage had the power to shield them both from this much heat, and definitely not while he was unconscious. That left only one possibility, and he shied away from it. Why would a dark god free him from the chamber, except to torture him further? How had they ended up here, and where was he? Why was the dark god unconscious? Majelin wanted to shake off the man’s hand, but wondered if that would free him from the shield, too. Finding out would mean instant death, but did he really want to live as a prisoner of another dark god?

  If that was the case, he might as well kill the stranger, but once again he paused to consider. He had never been one to act hastily, and something told him there was more to this situation than met the eye. He shook the man’s shoulder, but he merely lolled. Majelin checked the pulse in the stranger’s throat, finding it strong and steady. He surmised that the dark god must have hit his head on the craggy walls on way down, as it seemed likely that they had fallen in here. Part of him hoped he would wake up soon, so they could leave this awful place; another part dreaded what might happen then. The last thing he remembered before waking up here was being burnt by two demons, and it seemed as if the stranger had saved him from that, although the reason for it bothered him.

  Majelin became aware that the streams of magma entering the cavern were increasing, and the sea rose, engulfing the dark god’s legs to mid-thigh. He wondered if the cavern was going to fill with molten rock, and why it rose now. Perhaps because of whatever had brought them here in the first place. Grasping the man’s cloak, Majelin struggled to drag him further up the sloping shore, slipping on the magma. The manacles on his wrists and ankles and the heavy chains attached to them hampered him. The man’s legs emerged from the molten rock unsullied, his trousers not even singed. Reaching a safe distance, Majelin sat down and searched for an exit. The chances of him being able to drag the dark god with him were slim, even if he found one, and he somehow doubted he would find an exit, anyway. How had they got in here?

  Kayos cursed and leant forward to peer into his Eye as demons rushed into the chamber, surrounding Bane. Drevarin shot him a horrified look, and Sherinias gave a cry of dismay. At the table nearby, Mirra buried her face in her hands. She knew that such reactions meant Bane was in trouble again. Kayos wanted to go to Bane’s aid, but the number of demons in the chamber was already overwhelming. The image turned black as the Fetch was triggered, and he sat back, scowling. The Eye would follow Bane. He just had to wait for the Fetch to release him. Until then, the dark power blocked it.

  Moments later, a new image formed, of Bane and Majelin lying motionless on the edge of a glowing red sea in a cavern. Once again, Kayos wanted to go to Bane’s aid, but paused, frowning. The Eye was not giving him a location, which meant that whoever had created the Fetch had concealed its destination, possibly to ensure no one would be able to rescue its victims, even though only a god could survive in that hellish environment. Nevertheless, it meant he could not help Bane, and he cast Drevarin a grim look, finding the same distress in the younger god’s eyes. He wondered why Bane was unconscious, hoping that was all he was, then shook his head in self-rebuke.

  If Bane had been dead, his body would be burning and the angel would have perished, too. In the Eye, Majelin woke and scrambled away from the sea, and Kayos wished he could communicate with him. He would undoubtedly jump to a lot of inaccurate conclusions, one of which would have dire consequences for Bane. Any child of the light would want to either escape or slay a dark god, but Majelin must know that if he did he would die too. An angel who had been tortured for five centuries may very well prefer death to further suffering, however.

  There were so many possible calamitous outcomes of this situation that Kayos refused to ponder them all. He relaxed when Majelin seemed to realise that he was better off with a live dark god than a dead one, and dragged Bane away from the rising sea. Now Bane just needed to wake up before they were engulfed. Evidently the triggering of the Fetch caused the cavern to fill with magma, but the reason for it escaped him. Only a dark god or black mage would survive for more than a few minutes, and a mage would not last much longer than that, but they could Move, so therefore would not be immersed.

  Mirra chewed her lip, and he assured her, “He is all right, child.”

  She nodded and sagged against Mithran, who patted her shoulder.

  The Grey God swapped a worried look with Drevarin before returning his attention to the image in his Eye, silently urging Bane to wake up. Sherinias brushed tears from her cheeks.

  Majelin frowned at the rising sea of molten stone with growing disquiet. Beyond the point where he had dragged the dark god, the walls became too steep and slippery to climb, so he could retreat no further. If they did not leave this place soon, they would be submerged, and the magma seemed to be rising faster.

  He shook the stranger again, cursing his continued senseless state. “Come on, wake up, you bastard. You got us into this. You have to get us out!”

  The man’s head lolled and his eyelids flickered.

  Majelin shook him harder. “Come on, you damned monster, wake up!”

  As soon as th
e stranger Moved them to safety, Majelin decided, he would kill him if he could. There was a chance he would succeed, since the dark god was mortal and already injured. Of course, the dark god might choose to torture or kill him where they were, but he somehow doubted it. The stranger had to have known about the Fetch in the chamber, yet he had triggered it and come with Majelin, saving him, so he must want him alive. He shook the man more vigorously as the magma sea reached his knees and crept up his thighs.

  “Wake up!” he bellowed in the dark god’s ear.

  The man groaned and twitched, swallowing, and his eyes opened a slit, then widened. He grimaced and groaned again, raising a hand to finger the side of his skull.

  “You have to Move us out of here,” Majelin said, shaking him.

  The stranger squinted at him, rubbing his head, apparently still dazed. “What?”

  “Move us! Take us somewhere else, anywhere, before we are swallowed!”

  “Swallowed? By what?”

  “That!” Majelin pointed at the magma.

  “Ugh.” The dark god raised his head to peer at the molten sea, his eyes widening a little. “Bloody hell.”

  “Move us!”

  “Um…” The man seemed confused. “Where are we?”

  “How should I know? I woke up here too.”

  The dark god levered himself up on his elbows. “Do not panic. We are in no danger.”

  “No danger? What about that?” Majelin gestured to the magma again. “How hard did you hit your head?”

  “Hard enough, but not so my brain is addled.” He looked down at the angel’s hand on his shoulder. “Although the situation seems to have stripped you of your fear of me.”

  “If I do not touch you, will I be burnt?”

  “No.”

  Majelin snatched his hand away. “Then I have no wish to touch you.”

  “I just saved your life.”

  “So you can torment me.”

  “No.” The dark god sighed. “I think we should establish some trust between us before I take us out of here, otherwise you will either try to murder me or flee as soon as I do.”

  “This is not a good time for making friends.”

  “Let us call it acquaintances, and it is an excellent time, actually. Fear not, you are in no danger as long as you are with me. I am Bane, the Demon Lord.”

  “I do not care.”

  “You are a tetchy one, huh?” Bane looked up. “Kayos watches us.” He smiled and waved.

  “Kayos?”

  “Yes. Grey God, silver hair, kind of bossy?”

  “I know who Kayos is. Why is he watching you?”

  “He worries about me,” Bane said. “I am, after all, his only dark son.”

  “His dark…” Majelin was flabbergasted.

  Bane sighed. “Things did not go according to plan, but then, they seldom do.” His eyes became intent upon the glowing cavern wall on the far side of the magma sea, and he pointed at some bright yellow patterns on it. “There, you see those? Runes. This place is protected by a concealment spell. It can only be to prevent a god from rescuing anyone cast into this trap, although whether they could reach them quickly enough is debateable… perhaps, if the victim was a black mage. Odd, though.”

  “Trap?”

  “Yes. That is how we ended up here. It is a dark trap set by Torvaran. When I came to rescue you, I triggered it, and here we are, in a whole heap of hot rock.” Bane spread his hands on the red-hot stone, and it turned black. A shield of dark power swept up around them, cutting off the red glare and awful vista. “There, that is better. Now we can get to know each other a bit.”

  “A captive audience.”

  “You are not my captive, Majelin, although it may look like it right now. You are free to leave if you can. I saved you at your wife’s request; a lovely and courageous lady, Sarmalin.”

  Majelin edged away and leant against the curving shield. “She begged for your aid?”

  “Yes. Very prettily.”

  “I do not believe you. Have you captured her too? Did she try to come to my rescue?”

  Bane shook his head. “You should not discount everything I say as a lie. It is rude.”

  “Forgive my scepticism. I have been a dark god’s prisoner for five centuries.”

  “Yes, I am sure that was hell. I do not blame you for being suspicious. If you summon that shiny sword you angels use, however, you will be in more than a spot of bother.”

  “As will you.”

  “True.” Bane inclined his head. “Although I think I am quick enough to Move before you can use it, and you will be a cinder shortly thereafter.”

  “You are not comforting me.”

  “I know. I am tired of being regarded as a monster by the children of the light when I am anything but.” He paused. “Do you know what tar’merin is?”

  “Yes. You are claiming to be one?”

  “Yes. The sooner you believe me, the sooner we can leave. I am keen to do so. My head hurts.”

  “There has never been a mortal tar’merin,” Majelin said. He wanted to believe Bane, if only because the alternative was too horrific to contemplate, and what he had done made a lot more sense if he was what he claimed.

  Bane spread his hands. “I cannot prove what I am, but if you will trust me and swear not to attack me or flee, I will Move us to the light realm. There you will be healed, and meet Kayos and Drevarin, and, of course, Pretarin’s daughter, Sherinias.”

  “She has been born? How?”

  “Kayos did it. I do not know how. It is a Grey God thing, I suspect.”

  Majelin contemplated the dark god, whose dark aura had a pale patina, but that could be an illusion, or delusion. Perhaps this was too outlandish to be anything other than the truth, and he hoped it was. Bane could have killed him already, and, although there was still a slim chance it was all a ruse, he doubted it more and more.

  “Are you convinced yet?” Bane enquired. “I would really like to leave.”

  Majelin inclined his head. “I would, too.”

  “Then give me your word that you will not try to kill me or flee as soon as we do, and I will Move us.”

  “Why must I swear not to flee if you are tar’merin?”

  “All right, you may flee if you wish, but then you will not meet Kayos. Please yourself, though, just do not try to kill me. You are unlikely to succeed, and more likely to end up dead, which will defeat the whole purpose of this exercise.”

  Majelin nodded again. “Very well; I swear it.”

  “Then let us go.” Bane held out his hand and, when Majelin eyed it doubtfully, added, “You have to touch me to Move with me.”

  The archangel shuddered, but grasped Bane’s hand.

  The Demon Lord looked vague for a moment, then frowned. “Well, that is odd.”

  “What? Nothing happened.”

  “I noticed that too. That is what is odd. Apparently there are more wards in this trap than I thought, and one of them prevents Moving. Perhaps it was intended to hold a god.”

  Majelin freed his hand and scowled. “Then why are there no other gods here?”

  “That is a good question. Perhaps no others fell in, or maybe they perished.”

  “How could they die? Could this kill you?”

  “No, but then, I am a dark god. Perhaps a light god would be in more trouble than me.”

  “How much trouble are you in?” Majelin asked, dreading the answer.

  “I am uncertain. It depends on whether or not there is a way to escape this cavern. If not, I am in quite a lot of trouble, as are you.”

  “Will you die of hunger?”

  Bane snorted. “Certainly not, unless…” He gestured, and a golden cup appeared in his hand. “Ah. Good. Not that I am planning to spend that much time in here.” He sipped from it, looking thoughtful. “So, we just need to find a way out.”

  “I saw no tunnels.”

  “How hard did you look?”

  “We should probably look again.”


  Bane dismissed the cup, and the shield lowered to reveal the glowing cavern once more. Majelin searched the oozing walls, which appeared to be solid, as did the roof. How had they got in here, then? Presumably whatever power had brought them here did not need an entrance, and he shuddered at the thought that they had passed through solid rock, glad he did not recall it.

  Bane surveyed the swirling sea. “Quite possibly our only way out is down the drain.”

  “Down the… You jest!”

  “I wish I did. Do you see another way?”

  Majelin shook his head. “But we do not know where it goes, or even if it goes anywhere.”

  “It must go somewhere. Let us just hope it does not pass through the domain’s boundary.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then we will be fried to a crisp.” Bane rose to his feet, and the shield vanished.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Having a better look around.”

  “And?”

  “You are right. There is no way out of this thing. It is down the drain for us.”

  Majelin stared at the swirling magma. “What if it solidifies?”

  “It cannot until it reaches somewhere it can spread out. Otherwise it would not continue to flow. And even if it does solidify, that is not too disastrous. I can walk through rock for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “That depends on how much power I have to begin with. Perhaps half an hour or so; but the chances of us having to do that are non-existent, I am sure.”

  “Us? I cannot walk through rock.”

  Bane looked back at him. “You will, with me, of course.”

  “Perhaps the cavern is filling up because the drain is becoming blocked.”