“And a lot of demons,” Dramon added. “So, they’re going to snuff you lot out, and you’re going to kill them. All hell is going to break loose. It should be fun.”
The demon quaffed his ale. “Then we’ll wipe them out.”
“Ah, but your new lord and master is going to ward this world. You’ll be trapped in the mid realm, with no humans to play with. Boring!”
“He’s not our lord and master.”
“Oh no? So he can’t summon you and make you do whatever he wants?”
“Until he does, he’s not our master. And why would he ward this world?”
“Because he’s a damned tar’merin.”
“No way.” The demon’s scowl blackened.
“Way, old boy.”
“Then we’ll kill him.”
Dramon threw back his head and guffawed. Nomard slapped his knee and hooted. Dramon controlled his hilarity as the waiter returned with their ales, then chugged down half of his, banged the tankard on the table and grinned at the fire demon.
“An excellent plan, old chap! Top marks to you. You got a name?”
The demon’s eyes darted between them. “Erthalason.”
“Ugh, what a mouthful. We’ll just call you Erth. So, Erth, you think you and your backward brethren can kill a dark god, eh?”
“He’s mortal.”
“That’s true.” Dramon nodded at Nomard, who grinned. “He’s right.”
“So what’s so funny?” Erthalason demanded.
“He’s in the light realm, you moron.”
“He’ll come down when we start killing humans.”
“You reckon? I reckon you’re wrong. He doesn’t give a flying fart about humans.”
“But the little goddess does.”
“And he doesn’t give a flying fart about her likes or dislikes, either.”
“He does if he’s tar’merin.”
“Wrong,” Nomard said. “But I’ll tell you what he does give a damn about, and that’s his little human family. I bet you know where they are, and if you don’t, I bet you and your bone-headed brethren can find them.”
Erthalason nodded. “Of course we can.”
“Such confidence.” Dramon chuckled and quaffed his ale. “He’s hidden them, old bean.”
“Then we’ll find a warded place.”
“Full of humans. How will you know which ones are his family?”
Erthalason shrugged. “We’ll just kill them all.”
“Ah, he’s good,” Dramon remarked to Nomard, who nodded and said, “He’s going to start a war with a dark god. Brilliant! They’ll all be dismissed like that.” He snapped his fingers.
Erthalason scowled. “So you have a better plan?”
“We sure do, but will you listen?”
“I’m listening.”
Nomard leant forward. “First, you find out who the hell they are; you don’t go charging in there slaughtering everyone. Then, you grab them and take them below, but keep them alive. Take them to a warded chamber, if you have one; if not, you lie in ambush, got it? A spear through the guts will kill that bastard, and bingo, you win.”
“Try to make it a few dozen spears,” Dramon added.
Erthalason nodded. “We can do that.” His brow furrowed. “How do we find out who they are?”
Nomard shrugged. “Ask the humans, and if they don’t know, search for a hidden dwelling. It’ll be well warded, but if there are enough of you, you should find it. How many can you muster?”
“A lot. Hundreds.”
“Excellent. Good for you.” Dramon flicked his fingers. “Off you go then; bugger off.”
The demon rose and left, taking his ale with him.
Dramon turned to Nomard. “You think they’ll go for it?”
“Not a chance. Even they’re not that stupid.”
“Pity. It sounded like such a plausible plan.” Dramon gulped his brew and banged his tankard down.
“That was the idea.”
“He’s a pretty good liar.”
“Yeah, but they know we are, too.”
“Demons are boring.”
Nomard shrugged. “He definitely bought the bit about the humans ganging up on demons.”
“Well, that was true.”
“Bane’s going to be pissed off if he finds out we started the shit around here.”
“How will he find out?”
“Erth?”
Dramon made a rude noise. “His word against ours, old boy. Don’t you know demons lie? And we’re his pals. Nah, Erth and his cronies are going to get their bums handed to them, and there’s going to be a lot of fun in this place, really soon. Look.” He motioned with his tankard to Erth, who was deep in conversation with five other men, all demons. “Already he’s spreading the word.”
Nomard nodded. “I still don’t think it’s enough. What if they ignore us? They don’t want to be discovered, and, after what we told them, they’ll want to hide what they really are even more.”
“You have a point. Maybe we should start the shit ourselves.”
“Bane will blame us.”
“He will anyway. What’s he going to do about it? Leave us here? I don’t think so, and I reckon he’s going to try to get rid of us as soon as he can, anyway. Wouldn’t you?” Dramon asked.
“Definitely.”
“We could still blame it on someone else.”
“Who?”
“Them.” Dramon waved his tankard at the three demon hounds that sat in the shadows nearby. They went unnoticed in the gloom, only their yellow eyes glowing. Human and droge patrons gave the spot a wide berth, without knowing why, Dramon suspected. It just got super cold and their stomachs churned when they went close to the dark corner where the beasts sat. Since most were drugged or drunk, no one had become alarmed, yet.
Nomard grinned and slurped his ale. “I think you’re onto something. There are plenty of hellhounds in this world, and no way to prove the ones that started the shit were ours.”
“Exactly.”
Nomard caught the attention of one of the hounds and inclined his head towards the group of demons. The beast rose and slinked towards the men, the other two following. As they moved out of the shadows, the bright lights illuminated their lupine forms, and the girls on the stage screamed and ran. Patrons gaped at the demonic beasts, and many shouted and stampeded for the doors. A few, too intoxicated to think clearly, tried to kick the hounds and yelled at them, as if they were mere stray dogs.
The demons in the target group noted the hounds’ approach, and several shot the demon gods furious scowls. The hellhounds charged into their midst and tore off chunks of soil or fiery shreds as the demons’ disguises failed under the attack. More human patrons shrieked and shouted as the demons fought back, clubbing the hounds or lashing them with blazing eyes. They had no hope of protecting themselves whilst maintaining their disguises, and within moments they slumped into piles of soil or vanished in flares of fire. The hounds turned their attention to the humans and droges, who fled, screaming.
“Hey! Spot!” Dramon called. “Enough!”
One of the hounds paused, glaring at the demon god, then sat down, its glowing mouth open in a panting grin.
“Dunce! Runt! Let them go,” Nomard ordered.
The other two hellhounds snarled, and one ran down a patron and tore him apart, but the other slinked back to the first hound and sat beside it, licking its chops. The last hellhound continued to tear the man to shreds while the rest of the patrons escaped.
Nomard raised his tankard and clashed it with Dramon’s. “That should do the trick.”
“A pity we had to leave witnesses.”
“The humans have their spying devices in here, too.”
“True.”
“Bad dog, Dunce,” Nomard reprimanded the hellhound that still worried the corpse.
Dramon chortled.
Bane surveyed the snowy landscape ahead, the border between it and the blackened land only a few feet wide, as if s
ome invisible barrier kept it within its own sphere. The line stretched into the distance on either side, curving away. The angel started forward, but Bane went over to a boulder and sat down, rubbing his legs.
Majelin returned. “Why do you stop?”
Bane eyed him. “Let me guess: angels are indefatigable.”
“Not quite, but evidently we have more stamina than mortal gods.”
“We have been walking for three days. I require sleep, and food, and I would rather rest where it is not freezing cold.” Bane summoned a cup of ambrosia and sipped it.
Majelin sat down cross-legged, gazing into the snowy land. “The life increases as we near the light god. Here there is not even water, but there, there is.”
“Frozen stuff.”
“But water nonetheless. It is possible some creatures of the light survive within the light god’s proximity.”
“Light creatures need water?”
The archangel snorted. “No.”
“Then why is it important that there is water there?”
“It is just one of the life-giving elements; it indicates the presence of light.”
Bane looked up at the weird, streaming sky. “There is plenty of light above us.”
Majelin followed his gaze. “Not as much as you would think. Not enough.”
Bane lowered his gaze to the angel. “What do you think we will find?”
“I know not. But I think it will be horrifying.”
Bane assuaged his hunger and thirst, waved a black cloud couch into being and lay down. He needed to sleep. The land seemed to leech the life out of him, replacing his energy with sorrow. He sensed it all around him. Everything was steeped in it, as if the very domain wept for its god, and it was increasing as they drew closer to the light’s destination. He did not want to think about what awaited him at the end of this journey, but did not doubt that Majelin was right.
Mirra sat on her bunk, her heart leaden, her throat tight and her eyes stinging. She would not cry. She must be strong and positive. Bane would return. He always did. She missed him more than ever, as if every time they were apart the wound in her heart grew deeper, and festered. If anything, the few days of happiness they had shared recently made it worse. She had tried to scry him, but her glass had remained clear.
Part of her wanted to ask him to take her home, but she could not let Ashynaria continue to suffer, perhaps die. When the archangel had begged for his aid, Mirra had been torn. She had wanted to tell him she did not want him to go, but she could not bring herself to deny an angel aid. That was way it would always be, she now knew. She would always let him go, despite her fears, and pain at his absence. What he did was too important, and how could any of them have known that a quick trip to the underworld to rescue an angel would turn into such a disaster? She almost wished she was a prophetess.
Mirra lay down and closed her eyes, and exhaustion swept her into oblivion.
A sunlit field surrounded her, bounded by verdant forests, and bright flowers swayed in a sweet-scented breeze. Sunlight warmed her skin with its blissful radiance, and she smiled, raised her face and closed her eyes, soaking up its gentle, life-giving power.
“Mirra.”
The sound of a familiar voice made her heart leap into her throat, and she swung around. Bane walked towards her, his eyes afire in the bright light, his skin glowing and his hair sheened blue-black. She ran into his arms and embraced him, clinging to him as she struggled not to cry. He hugged her and stroked her hair, then cupped her chin and raised her face to kiss her. She smiled, her heart choking her.
“This is a dream,” he said.
“I know.”
“I do not have a lot of time. I had to see you, even in this realm.”
“What do you mean? Are you doing this?” she asked.
“Yes. Our bond allows me to enter your dreams, or draw you into mine. This one is mine. I knew you would like this.”
“It is beautiful. Why have you not done this when we were apart before?”
“The situation was never ideal, and… I am not sure of what is going to happen now. You have been watching, in Kayos’ Eye?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“There is a light god here, and -”
“His name is Carthius. He may be trapped with duron, and if he is, Kayos says you must not free him.”
“Why?”
“He will die, and…” She swallowed a lump. “His light will kill you.”
He snorted and smiled. “I would not be so sure of that. I have survived -”
“No. Kayos says you will not. Carthius is a powerful light god, the son of two Grey Gods. His death will be cataclysmic.”
He raked a hand through his hair and turned away, then swung back. “I may have to risk it. It might be the only way to escape this place.”
“Kayos says he will free you. All you have to do is wait.”
“How?”
She hesitated. “Drevarin said it was a summoning.”
“That will require a blood sacrifice.”
“For the dark power. I do not think Kayos will have to sacrifice anyone.”
His eyes narrowed. “Yet there is something you do not like about it, is there not?”
“He must take control of Sherinias’ Oracle to do it.”
Bane grimaced. “Then she will die.”
“Surely not?”
He met her gaze. “Kayos told me she cannot survive without her Oracle at her age.”
“He would not sacrifice her… Would he?”
“To save me, I think he would. She is just a child goddess, albeit his adopted daughter. I am far more useful to the light.”
She shook her head, horrified. “I do not believe he would. He is a light god!”
“Ask him, then.”
“I will, but you must not free the light god in that world. Promise me.”
“If he is trapped with duron, he suffers endlessly.”
“And you will die!” she said.
“Perhaps not.”
“How can you survive?”
He smiled and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “I will find a way.”
“Come back to me, Bane, alive. Promise me that.”
“I do. Nothing and no one will keep us apart.”
Her eyes overflowed and her throat grew tight.
“Hush,” he whispered. “Do not cry. It will be all right.” He wiped a tear away and drew her close again. After a few moments, she pulled back to look at him, swallowing the lump.
“How will you…?” Her throat closed again.
“I will think of something.” He paused, then bent to kiss her. “I must go.”
“Why?”
“This is tiring, and I have little energy.”
“Are you unwell?”
He shook his head. “Just tired. This place drains me. It is full of sorrow.”
“Carthius’ sorrow. Millennia of it.”
“If sorrow was made manifest, this place would embody it.”
She released him, resisting the urge to beg him to stay. “Go then, and rest.”
“I will return to you soon.”
“I will wait forever if needs be.”
Bane raised her hands and kissed her palms, then released them and stepped back, fading away like a ghost. She sank down on the grass and gave vent to her anguish in silent tears that left icy trails down her cheeks.
Mirra sat up, her eyes springing open to scan the empty cabin. His presence seemed to linger, as if he had truly been with her. She could still feel his arms around her, solid, warm, and full of gentle reassurance. Yet it had only been a dream, but perhaps ‘only’ was wrong. They had shared a dream. He had truly been there, with her. That was bizarre, but she was becoming used to the bizarre; it seemed to come with the territory for a god’s wife.
Mirra slid off the bunk and hurried to the mess hall to tell Kayos. Only he and Drevarin were there, so presumably he had sent Sherinias to continue her chore in the White City
and the others had retired to their cabins. In the Eye, Bane slept upon a black cloud couch that resembled a thunderhead, the archangel seated on the ground beside it.
The Grey God listened to her tale with a deadpan expression, and nodded at the end of it. “Good. I am glad you warned him. At least you have a way to communicate with him.”
Mirra hesitated, loath to question him. “No harm will come to Sherinias when you summon him, will it?”
Drevarin grimaced and looked away.
Kayos glanced at him, then faced her again. “There is no need for concern.”
“What will happen to her?”
“As I said -”
“I need to know!” Mirra quailed inwardly at her tone.
Kayos regarded her for several moments. “Being unbonded from her Oracle will cause her a great deal of distress. She is too young.”
“Will she die?”
“Not if I can prevent it.”
“But there is a chance.”
“There is a risk, yes.”
“How big?”
Kayos leant forward, his expression intent. “Would you have me abandon Bane?”
“No. How big?” she insisted.
“What does it matter? It must be done.”
“I want to know.”
His mien hardened. “You may be the wife of a god, but your tone is unsuitable, all the same.”
“And you are avoiding the question.”
Drevarin stared at her with something akin to amazement.
Kayos glanced at him again and snorted, then shook his head at Mirra. “If you were any other god’s wife… I would not answer you.”
“Why is it a secret?”
“I only wish to spare your feelings.”
“So it is a big risk, then?”
He inclined his head. “About fifty-fifty.”
Mirra sat down on the empty couch, her heart aching. “Will she know?”
“Of course; she must relinquish control to me.”
“And if she refuses?”
“She will not.”
“But if she does?”
Kayos sighed. “She is a goddess, child. She will not refuse.”
“But what would happen if she did? Would you be unable to take control?”
“No. I would still be able to, but if she fought me she would certainly die.”
When Angels Fall (Demon Lord) Page 14
