When Angels Fall (Demon Lord)

by Southwell, T C

  The Demon Lord rose to his feet, dragging the mage to his, and leant closer to conclude, “Dead.”

  The warlock clawed at Bane’s hands, his face twisted as he coughed and gurgled.

  “Now what are you, hmmm?” Bane enquired. “Just a dirty changeling, while I am still a dark god, powerless or not. Clearly you did not have the balls to confront the others who came here, yet you thought it safe to accost me. Think again. Black mages usually have more sense; they flee, but you have strayed within my reach and offered me insult. Even other dark gods have paid the price for confronting me. You are like a toad beneath my boot, and I am very, very angry.”

  “Please…”

  “What was that?” Bane cocked his head. “Speak up, man.”

  The mage gaped for air, revealing pointed green teeth. “Please… spare me.”

  “So you can join your fellows destroying this city? So you can continue to drain the lives of the people who live here? I think not. I am in a mood to kill something nasty, and you fit the bill perfectly. Mighty considerate of you, actually.”

  “I will… call off… the attack.”

  “You really expect me to believe that? The moment I release you, you will laugh and sneer and make good your escape. I know the ways of evil. I was its servant once, too. Now I am its master. You should know better than to ask for mercy from a dark god. We do not grant it, but I do not need power to end your miserable life.” Bane glared into the changeling’s eyes. “Burn.”

  “No!” The mage’s wail became a scream as his skin crisped and flaked away, his eyes turned white as they cooked and stinking smoke rose from him. Bane dropped the smouldering corpse with a grunt, and the bartender and serving wench stared at it before the wench leant out of the door to vomit.

  Bane sat down and picked up his tankard. “Bloody moron.”

  Majelin ran into the alehouse and hurried to Bane’s table, sidestepping the smoking remains on the floor beside it. “Bane… Ugh, what is that?”

  “A dead moron.”

  “Do you know what is going on in the city?”

  “Changelings are attacking, apparently.”

  “They are inside the walls. Are you going to help fight them off?”

  Bane sighed and took a deep swig of beer. “Majelin, I am good at destroying demons and dark gods, but defending a bunch of mortals from other mortals is hardly my forte.”

  “Have you never saved people before?”

  “I have, yes. Twice.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “God sight.”

  The archangel nodded. “Can you not do that now?”

  The Demon Lord frowned at his ale. “Why bother? They are doomed anyway. Perhaps they are better off dead. Their souls will fly to a light realm and be reborn into a better life. Once they are gone, the changelings will starve.”

  “If you wipe out the changelings, these people will no longer be doomed.”

  “They will still be trapped here. Without the changelings to curtail their numbers, they will overrun this realm and doom themselves anyhow.”

  “Unless you free them.”

  Bane snorted. “And what makes you think I can do that? I am as trapped as they are.”

  “And will you not sacrifice me, even to free yourself? Even to save Sherinias and your family?”

  “Why do you think I am here, trying to drown myself in this vile ale?”

  The archangel lowered his eyes. “You will not.”

  “The light becomes darkness when it kills its children.” Bane sighed. “I am adrift. I no longer know what I am fighting for.”

  “Life is precious, but death is not to be feared.”

  “For mortals! You are an immortal. You will not be reborn.”

  Majelin leant closer. “Do you honestly believe the light will let me fall?”

  “If your soul is the key, you have to die.”

  “But angels do not fall forever.”

  “Sarmalin said you would fall to the darkness in another five hundred years.”

  “Yes.” The archangel nodded. “Trapped in an underworld, without access to the white power, I would have perished forever when the light within me died. But if you carry my soul to a light realm, I will live.”

  “I cannot carry a soul.”

  “Your knowledge comes from the darkness, which cannot.”

  “I am a dark god, Majelin. Even a barrel of ale cannot make me forget that.”

  “No, you are a greater mortal god; a being so rare that no one knows the true extent of your powers. They evolve as you use them, and a need can bring a new one into being. The ability to adapt is the greatest gift of your mortality. I do not know if you can carry a soul, but there is a chance that you will find a way. You came to be trapped here because you saved me. You are tar’merin. I cannot place my life above yours. You can save gods and worlds. I am only an archangel, and freeing you will be my greatest accomplishment. I sacrificed myself to try to save a mere light god. I will do it again for you.”

  “A blood sacrifice is evil.”

  “The life of a god is sacred. Saving one is the highest calling to which an angel can aspire.”

  “I will not die here,” Bane said. “Kayos will send a message to Ordur. Sherinias may suffer, though, and I will have to cast down those dark gods again.”

  “You may not be able to save her a second time. Once she is their captive, they may kill her.”

  “Kayos will protect her.”

  “You saved me from five hundred years of torture,” Majelin said. “A painless end, even if it is a final one, is still a far better fate.”

  “I am not bloody killing you! Even if I did, it would not help. I have told you, that gate is not a way out!”

  “But… did the Oracle not say the light was the key, and the gate would open?”

  “It did, but I do not trust it. That gate is a trap.”

  A scream from the door distracted Bane. The serving wench and barkeep slammed it and raced through the curtains at the back of the taproom, the slam of another door telling him that they had locked themselves away, probably in a storeroom. Black threads crept around the edges of the alehouse door and spread across it in a web, clothing the worn wood in gossamer strands, then it collapsed into a pile of grey dust and the filaments vanished.

  Changelings surged through the portal, their eyes glinting as the scanned the empty room. Bane became invisible as Majelin vanished too. A few changelings headed for the curtains at the back. Bane raised his hands and sent streaks of black fire at the intruders with casual gestures, and they fell screaming and writhing.

  “Save this city,” Majelin said.

  “Why?”

  “It is the right thing to do.”

  The Demon Lord rose and strode through the wall with a harsh word. He marched along the street, Gathering as he went and killing any changeling he encountered. Reaching the central square, he closed his eyes and spread his arms. Every soul in the city and beyond became visible to him, revealing all that was good and evil, and he unleashed the dark power, commanding it to slay only the corrupted. He opened his eyes as it streamed from him in a circle of burning death, snaking along the streets in search of prey. Screams and wails came from buildings and neighbouring streets, and changelings dashed from houses, to fall shrieking as shadows engulfed them. Some took to the air, but writhing snakes of darkness rose to snatch them from it and send them crashing to the cobblestones as fiery comets.

  The wave of shadows reached the city wall and lapped at it, soaking through it and away into the earth. The base of the Tower of Light glowed blue as the white fire warred with the black, and Bane lowered his arms. He shed the light shield, and Majelin became visible beside him.

  The archangel remarked, “Saving a city is such a simple matter, for you.”

  “There is something strange going on here. The city never needed me to save it before, yet now it does. Why? Nothing is right about this place, and I dislike it more and more. There is
something at work here that I have not encountered before.”

  “I think you are right.”

  Majelin’s startled tone made Bane glance at him. The archangel stared at the ground, which seemed to heave and ooze as shadows streamed through it. Smoke rose from the soles of Bane’s boots, and he stepped back, leaving glowing red footprints, the ground where he had been standing afire. Majelin’s feet had no effect. Bane looked up at the night sky. Light streamed across it in the same direction as the shadows under his feet.

  “This place is cursed,” he muttered.

  “And much of it does not exist.”

  Once again, Bane followed the angel’s gaze. The people had vanished, and most of the buildings. They stood in an ancient, ruined city that bore only a passing resemblance to the bustling town they had been in a moment before. The city wall was a mere jumble of stones, as were most of the houses. The Tower of Light remained unchanged, and the crystal structures looked even older, dulled by soot.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Bane asked.

  “Time has changed,” Majelin said. “We were in the past; now we are in the present. The people are long since dead and gone, but once they existed.”

  “Then how could they have seen us, and spoken to us?”

  “We were there, in the past.”

  “How is that possible? And how do you know it?”

  The archangel scanned the ruins. “I am an archangel, remember? As for how it is possible… there is only one way. There is a light god here.”

  “Well, that it makes more sense, but why would he reveal himself to me?”

  “I think he was testing you.”

  “So, I guess I passed.”

  Majelin inclined his head. “I would say so.”

  Bane gazed around. The sun rose behind him, illuminating a devastated land. The stark remnants of destroyed forests replaced the green woods, no more than tall, jagged stumps. Ash covered the blackened ground, and piles of debris rimmed shallow craters. The rubble had subsided over the millennia, but the devastation was still identifiable as the result of fire and explosions that must have occurred during a battle. The battleground where he had fought Arkonen in the Overworld was a mere patch compared to this, which stretched to the horizon. This battleground, however, lacked the glassy areas and dead-straight furrows that bolts of dark power made, so a dark god was not responsible. Nevertheless, something had destroyed this world, which was now little more than a remnant, but what had become of the light god who clearly still controlled it? Had there been a dark god here, Bane was sure he would already have encountered him. So, whoever had destroyed this world had left, or been destroyed himself, but the light god still lived.

  “We must find him,” Bane said.

  “How?”

  “He wants to be found, or he would not have changed time. He could have kept us trapped in the past forever.” He looked up. “All we need to do is follow the light.”

  Bane set off, and Majelin followed. Patches of dull grey diamond sand shimmered, and a few of the blasted stumps had a silvery sheen. Bane left a trail of glowing footprints, fresh smoke arising at every step. The reaction of the land to him was similar to that of hallowed ground.

  “How do you know this place is cursed?” Majelin asked.

  “The smoke. The dark power protects me, hence the glowing footprints.”

  “But when you had no power…”

  “We were in the past,” Bane said, “when there were no curses.”

  “Why would a light god change time?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Could it protect him from a dark god?”

  “No.” Bane glanced at the angel. “Why do the curses have no effect on you?”

  “I am an angel.”

  “So you are immune?”

  “In a manner of speaking. You could say that I belong to another phase of reality.”

  “These are dark curses. They affect mortals and creatures of the light. You are one such, are you not?”

  “Of a sort,” Majelin agreed. “It is the same gift that allows us to use the Channels. Angels are neither mortal nor powerful. Reality, as you know it, barely perceives us. We are like a drop of water in an ocean: inconsequential.”

  Bane grunted. “I do not think a dark god destroyed this world.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because its owner still lives. No dark god would trap himself in a place like this unless he could not escape, and one such could easily kill this place’s ruler.”

  “What else could it be?”

  “I have no idea. Something capable of destroying a domain, but not killing a god, I would guess. Something he does not want to escape.”

  Kayos frowned at the image in the Eye. “I know where they are.”

  Drevarin glanced at him. “Did you not already?”

  “Yes, but now I know more.” The Grey God rubbed his brow. “They were in a dreaming, and they have just been released from it, which means Carthius woke up. For him to dream whilst in his own domain, he must be within his shield sphere or trapped with duron. Whatever caused him to seal that world must be truly horrific.”

  “Perhaps a dark god rose from the underworld?”

  “It is possible, but if so, surely he would have revealed his presence by now. He would have sensed Bane’s use of the shadows. Clearly the darkness has all but destroyed Arvandeth, and if Carthius has been trapped since he sealed it, or shortly thereafter, he will be weak. If Bane frees him, he will die, and his death will kill Bane. But he will long for an end to his suffering.”

  “You think he would kill a tar’merin?”

  Kayos shook his head. “Not intentionally, but Bane may not realise what will happen if he frees Carthius.”

  “But if Bane shields himself…”

  “He cannot create shields strong enough to protect himself from the amount of white power Carthius will release upon his demise. He is mortal.”

  Sherinias said, “You must save him, Father.”

  “That will be difficult, child.”

  “But there is a way,” Drevarin said.

  “Yes.”

  “He has survived the white fire before,” Mirra murmured.

  Kayos shook his head. “The touch of an eternal flame or a lesser child god does not compare to a light god’s demise. Majelin should warn him, but he may not. I do not trust him. He has suffered too long at the hands of a dark god. If he thinks he will be trapped there forever unless he sacrifices Bane to free himself and Carthius, he might choose to let Bane die. He does not know what I will do to save my son.”

  “What will you do?” Drevarin asked.

  “What I must.”

  “I suspect it will involve a great deal of power.”

  “Indeed,” Kayos said.

  “A summoning?”

  “Yes.”

  Drevarin shot Sherinias an alarmed look. “You need an Oracle for that.”

  “Yes.”

  “But Sherinias…” Drevarin met Kayos’ eyes.

  “Let us not discuss it now.”

  Sherinias glanced from one to the other, her eyes wide. “What is it, Father?”

  “Do not concern yourself, child. All will be well.”

  “Perhaps Carthius is within his shield sphere,” Drevarin suggested.

  “Let us hope so.”

  Chapter Eight

  Spirit Dream

  Dramon nudged his brother and pointed at a bulky man seated at a table, two droge women fawning on him. “How about him?”

  Nomard nodded. “Perfect.”

  Dramon led the way through the dim, smoky nightclub, the thudding beat of the monotonous music underscoring the deep drone of voices. Oiled, almost naked women entertained drunk or drugged men, flashing lights made the atmosphere garish, and beady-eyed dealers plied a roaring trade in the latest designer drugs. This was Dramon’s sort of place, and he and his brother had already sampled most of it wares. The drugs, drink and droges were bec
oming a bit boring, however. It was time to make life a lot more interesting.

  The man, a greater fire demon, eyed Dramon as he approached, his ink-black eyes flicking to Nomard. The demon wore a scarlet suit sprinkled with glitter, a gold nose ring and so many neck chains he could barely turn his head. Dramon pulled out a chair with a screech and flopped onto it, and Nomard took the one beside it. The furniture creaked, but held, despite their immense weight.

  The fire demon scowled. “Bugger off.”

  “Make us,” Nomard said.

  The demon shoved the droges away and jumped up, but Dramon raised a finger and wagged it. “Nah, uh. Sit. We only want to talk.”

  “I don’t want to listen.”

  “Too bad. Sit down. You’ll find it interesting.”

  The demon sank back onto his chair, and the droges pouted and flounced off. “What?”

  Nomard leant forward. “You lot are about to be dropped in a world of shit, old boy.”

  “What sort?”

  “The human sort.”

  “They’re a pansy bunch. They don’t even know about us.”

  “They do now,” Dramon said.

  “You told them.”

  “Indeed we did, old bean. Only fair, what? It’s a tad boring around here.”

  The demon shrugged. “So what? They don’t know anything.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ. They do now.”

  “What can they do?”

  Dramon flagged down a passing waiter and ordered two ales, then said, “Well, before they met us, not much, but we told them a thing or two.”

  “Such as?”

  “Oh, you know; how to exorcise your smelly arses.”

  The demon snorted. “A mere inconvenience.”

  “True. That’s why we also told them about the white fire.”

  The fire demon glowered. “That won’t get rid of us either. Not for long. You know that.”

  “We do, old son, but it’s sure going to make your lives unpleasant.”

  Nomard chortled. “There are a lot of humans in this world.”