“We need someone who can command it. Do you know one such?”
Drevarin gestured to Bane, then swung away with a smothered curse. “The only others are locked away in the dark realm.”
“Asking them for help would be even more futile than asking the demon gods.”
“Perhaps if we offered them their freedom?”
“How will you do that? The underworld is sealed off.”
“There must be a way!”
Kayos nodded. “There is always a way. We just have to find it.”
“Maybe we should wake him up. He might know.”
“He cannot be roused. That is part of the curse, I think.”
“That is a stupid curse!”
The Grey God looked up. “All curses are… evil. We need something… that fights evil.” He unfastened Bane’s shirt and pulled it open. The seventh rune scar glowed bright red. “Chargon!”
“What?”
“The runes... This is rune magic. The curse has activated Chargon. It is trying to protect him. I think that is why he is unconscious. I know little about dark rune magic, but I think Chargon wards off evil.”
“How does that help?”
“Fetch Mirra,” Kayos said.
Drevarin stared at him for a moment, then Moved. The girl jumped up when he appeared in the mess hall and hurried towards him.
“Where is -?”
“Bane needs you.” Drevarin took her arm and Moved back to Bane’s side.
Mirra gave a horrified cry and knelt beside her husband, reaching for him. Kayos gripped her wrists and held her away.
“Mirra, listen to me,” he said. “I need you to tell me where you got your pendant.”
She stared at Bane. “What has happened? What -?”
He gave her a little shake. “I need you to answer me. We may not have much time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Where did you get your Chargon pendant?”
“I… Bane gave it to me.”
“Did he make it?”
“Yes! What is wrong with -?”
“Breaking the frathess runes unleashed a curse. We need your pendant. Is it hot?”
She sat back and clasped the golden medallion. “It is warm, but it is always warm.”
“Take it off. He needs it.”
“I-I cannot.”
“He sealed it to you?”
“Yes.”
“Damn!” Kayos raked a hand through his hair. “What did he say, when he gave it to you?”
“He… He said it would protect me.”
“Is that all?”
“No… He said it protects itself. It only protects me because I wear it.”
“Good. There is hope.” Kayos pointed at the glowing rune on Bane’s chest. “That is trying to protect him, but it cannot, because it is a part of him.”
“So my medallion can help?”
“I hope so.”
“What must I do?” she asked.
“He needs to wear it too. Move closer and lean down.”
Mirra obeyed, and Kayos picked up Bane’s left hand and pressed it to her neck, easing it under the fine golden chain. The medallion grew hot and emitted a soft blue glow, turning it green. Kayos pushed Bane’s hand further under the chain, until it was around his wrist. The medallion grew so hot his skin reddened where the chain touched it. It burnt Mirra too, but her healing power protected her.
The medallion softened, then melted, dripping molten globs onto the sparkling sand, and the chain parted and fell off. Mirra drew back, clasped her neck and shot Kayos an anxious look. The sigils reappeared on Bane’s wrist, and he drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes.
“Bane!” Mirra grinned and embraced him.
Kayos rose and approached Drevarin, his mien relieved, but dour. “That was close.”
Drevarin met his gaze. “He is all right now?”
Kayos nodded, glancing back at Bane. “He will be. Thank the light he gave a little of his power to Mirra, in the form of that pendant.”
“It was destroyed.”
“Indeed. A testament to the power of Arkonen’s curse, but it served its purpose.”
“So, a dark god can remove a curse from himself through a proxy.”
“Yes,” Kayos said. “I was not sure it would work, but… I hope that is the last harm Arkonen will do to him.”
“What would have happened?”
“I think he would have died. When the curse activated the Chargon rune on his chest, it set up a conflict within him. Chargon put him into a coma to protect him, but without the medallion, he would have remained thus.”
Drevarin gazed at his friend. “Who is Arkonen?”
“The dark god who raised Bane.”
“Ah. I will assume he was not a good father.”
“He was a monster, as all true dark gods are. This is not his first attempt to kill Bane, but I hope it is his last.”
Bane sat up and examined his arm, amazed to find it unblemished. Mirra hugged him again, then held him away to inspect him.
“How do you feel?”
“A little weak. What happened?”
When she explained, he glanced at Kayos and Drevarin, who stood talking not far away, then returned his attention to her and raised a hand to run his fingertips along her throat. He scooped up a handful of sand and held it tight for a moment, and when he opened his hand, a golden rune pendant lay on his palm. He clipped it around her neck and twisted the clasp.
“Trethack myrish,” he whispered.
“What does that mean?” she asked, fingering the warm medallion.
“Forever bound.”
She hesitated, lowering her eyes. “I should not have -”
“Stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong. This was not your fault. It would have happened sooner or later, and it is a good thing it happened now, and not when I was in the middle of something dangerous, like rescuing Ashynaria.”
She nodded. “I suppose so. It just seems like you can never stay out of trouble. Even something that should have been utterly without risk turned into a deadly event.”
“That is the nature of the darkness.”
“That is why you could not read those runes.”
“Yes. And that is why Arkonen cursed me when I was an infant. He could not prevent me from making something that could undo the curse, so he ensured I knew nothing about it.”
Kayos came over and offered Bane his hand. “Come, let us return to the ship and reassure the others.” He hauled Bane to his feet.
Drevarin grinned. “At last, you have your wings, Bane.”
“My wings?”
“You learnt to fly.”
The Demon Lord smiled. “Indeed. Not how I had envisioned it, and I am not sure I can do it again.”
“Of course you can. It came naturally to you in the end, and it will again.”
Bane grunted and took Mirra’s hand, and they set off towards the ship.
Chapter Fifteen
Unbelievers
Colonel Maynart entered President Randoman’s hospital room and approached the premier’s bed. Randoman tried to gauge his news from his expression, but it was inscrutable. Randoman had suffered some cuts and bruises from flying glass and falling bricks when his office had collapsed, but his men had got him to an armoured vehicle and brought him to the military hospital at Gelldon, located several leagues outside Darjahan. The sight of giant mud monsters smashing down buildings would stay with him for the rest of his life. He might even seek counselling from a psychiatrist, but then, the psychiatrists probably needed counselling, too. What had happened to Darjahan beggared belief. He had been unable to take it all in. He would have gone back to work, but his doctors insisted that he rest. His wife and two teenage daughters had been to visit him, and were safely housed in his quarters. Many of his ministers and advisors had been killed or were missing, and an emergency government was now running the country and overseeing search and rescue operations.
&
nbsp; Events of the past few days had become so bizarre Randoman could hardly believe this was not a nightmare. News broadcasts had been cut off during the fiend attack, when the stations or transmitters had been destroyed, or the reporters killed. Nevertheless, visuals of Darjahan’s destruction had filtered out, and he had watched them all. Flying beings had fought the fiends. Angels? Really? Colonel Maynart had informed him with a straight face, and provided vidimage proof. Randoman had pinched himself several times. No one could explain them, and the glut of weird stories made believing any of it even harder.
Like the fact that no churches had been damaged, while the surrounding areas had been devastated. Thousands who had sought shelter in them had been saved. That had served to back up the religious fanatics’ claims that the glowing girl who had appeared at the Great Hall was their goddess, and she had healed the people who worshipped her. Medical records had proven multiple cases of restored sight and hearing, terminal illnesses cured and lifelong disabilities abolished. Now there were a lot more religious nuts.
Then, as if all that was not bad enough, only a few hours after the fiend attack had ended, the impossible had happened. Darjahan had risen from its dusty grave. No one could explain it, but he had been watching the news feeds almost non-stop since then as they replayed the visuals again and again. Most had been taken by citizens and rescue personnel with handheld vidimagers, and the quality was poor. Buildings had risen and reformed. Skyscrapers had coalesced from the rubble and tottered upright. His best scientists extrapolated that it was some sort of time-twist, but the dead had not come back to life. They could not explain that. Nor could they explain the strange hum that had made the ground vibrate and disrupted radio signals. The city was abandoned, but whole.
Colonel Maynart stopped beside Randoman’s bed and held up a data stick. “I have new information, sir, but you’re not going to like it. You might not even believe it. I’m having a tough time.”
“What is it?”
“An explanation of how the city was restored.”
“Images?”
“Yes, sir.”
Randoman nodded. “Show me. It can’t be any more unbelievable than what I’ve already seen.”
Maynart went over to the wall screen that faced the premier’s bed and plugged the data-stick into the slot on its frame. “This was taken during the… restoration, by a rescue team member. It’s the only evidence. The news stations don’t have it.” Maynart keyed the remote, and the screen came to life.
The image was grainy and shaky, and at first Randoman could make out little except the partially destroyed Great Hall. The picture zoomed in on the hall’s roof, and the distant figure of a man standing on top of it became visible. Randoman had seen him before, on numerous stealth ship reports and security camera recordings, the most memorable one being from Governor Predoran’s office. The man’s black cloak flared in the breeze, revealing a crimson lining, and he raised his arms. The picture became grainier, because that was when the hum had started, Randoman guessed. The vidimager was evidently a good quality one, however, because the image was still discernible. It appeared that the person who had taken it had been on the roof of a neighbouring building. The picture shook more, and Randoman sat up and peered at it, frowning.
Bricks and rubble flew upwards in the foreground, and for a moment the image panned down as the person who held the vidimager staggered or fell, giving a brief view of a wall reforming. Then the imager focussed on the man again, as structures beyond him rose.
“What the hell?” Randoman muttered.
The screen went black. Maynart said, “At that point, the rescuer fled.”
“I don’t blame him.”
“Her.”
“Have the so-called boffins seen this?”
Maynart shook his head. “I didn’t think they’d be able to shed much light on it, sir, so I took the liberty of consulting someone else. Someone I thought might offer a different sort of explanation. You’re not going to like it, but I think you should hear it.”
Randoman folded his arms. “At this point, I’m beyond incredulity, Maynart. If your source says this was the work of fairies, I’d probably believe him.”
The colonel went to the door and opened it, beckoning to someone outside. A tall, slim woman in a white, ankle-length robe entered. Auburn hair framed her handsome face, and she wore a serene, rather smug expression. Randoman stifled a groan.
Maynart said, “This is Sister Karillin, from the Lady of Light church.”
“Of course it is.”
“Sister Karillin, this is President Randoman.”
“Sir.” She inclined her head.
Randoman asked, “So, Sister, you know what happened to Darjahan?”
“I do, sir. To put it bluntly, the man in the vidimage is a god.”
The premier sighed. “Gods… right.”
“He’s the one you’ve been calling a dra’voren, but you’re wrong about him. He fought the fiends, with the help of the archangels, and he restored the city.”
“How? And why?”
“I don’t know, sir. He commands immense power. He was probably trying to protect the city, but -”
“If he’s a damned god, why couldn’t he?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps he’d have killed the people as well if he’d destroyed the fiends. He uses the shadows, but he’s not a destroyer.”
Randoman rolled his eyes. “Sister… Why are you here?”
“Your colonel asked me to come.”
“Do you really imagine anyone is going to believe this claptrap?”
“What do you believe, sir? What do your scientists say?”
“That we’ve been invaded by dra’voren, and they’re going to destroy the world.”
“By restoring cities?” she asked.
“He destroyed it!”
Karillin folded her hands. “No. But I don’t expect you to believe me. I know it’s all very strange to you. You can’t explain it. You’ll never be able to, unless you accept what I say.”
“And why should I do that?”
“Because it’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
“But it doesn’t, Sister Karillin, if you don’t believe in gods.”
She nodded. “That’s true, but if you did believe in them, it would.”
“He’s a dra’voren, not a damned god.”
“That’s what your scientists have called the beings who use the dark power, but there’s plenty of information about gods, fiends and angels in the old books. The tales are very similar to what’s happening today.”
“That just means people were uneducated back then. It doesn’t mean they’re right. They came up with the idea of gods to explain these… beings, who have these powers.”
“Right, so you call them dra’voren, and they called them gods, but they’re the same.”
“And how does calling them gods change anything?”
“If you accepted that they’re gods, you’d be able to use the wisdom in those books. It would help you to understand them, even communicate with them. And fiends have always been around. People forgot about them when religion was outlawed, and blamed their evil deeds on other things, then you rediscovered them with inter-dimensional matter scanners. You’ve defeated them with stealth ships, but they can also be banished with holy water and an incantation, and they can’t set foot on holy ground. The white fire defeats them, and these are all gifts from our creator, the child goddess, Sherinias. If you build more churches and train more priests, fewer fiends would enter cities. They don’t like being banished. It’s not a solution. It won’t get rid of all the fiends, but it will help.”
Randoman rubbed his brow. “Thank you, Sister Karillin. I’ll take your counsel under advisement.”
“And do absolutely nothing about it. Can your scientists explain why no churches were harmed? I can. The holy fire protected them. Do your scientists know what the black pentagrams are for? No. They’re wards that trap evil in the underworld. E
ven if you don’t want to believe it, don’t dismiss it as claptrap. It could benefit a lot of people, and right now, they need something to believe in; something that makes sense. I can explain pretty much everything that’s happened.”
“Yes, well, it’s easy to make up ridiculous stories.”
“And it’s easy to dismiss facts you don’t want to face.”
“Right. Go to the press, then, and give interviews. I have bigger problems, Sister.”
Karillin spun on her heel and left, her head held high.
Randoman eyed Maynart. “Don’t tell me you believe that crap, Maynart.”
The colonel shrugged. “I thought you should hear a different viewpoint. She’s right about people needing something to help them through this, and if believing in gods does the trick, why not?”
“Because it caused so much shit in the past! Cults fighting each other, believing in different gods, blowing each other up to prove that their god was the best. Innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. It was a mess!”
“Since religion was outlawed, we’ve fought other countries over land and resources, and crime and violence in the cities has escalated, sir.”
Randoman grunted. “We always had those problems.”
“But now there’s only one… being… to believe in. If not for the divisions in the past, we wouldn’t have had any strife. There’s the afterlife story, too. It’ll give people hope and comfort the grieving.”
The president lay back with a sigh. “I’m too tired to argue with you now. Let the populace decide if it wants to believe in this nonsense or not. Play that vidimage again for me.”
Bane relaxed on his couch in Retribution’s mess hall, chatting to Mithran and Grem, who sat at a table nearby. Mirra sat beside him, sipping a cup of hot milk. A bottle of wine stood on the table, which the three men shared. The rest of the refugees remained in the mid realm village, awaiting the ship’s departure, which had been delayed yet again. Kayos was reluctant to leave Sherinias, and, since the demon war had been averted, for the moment, he had given in to her pleas to stay a few more days. People had returned to Darjahan, and life had resumed there almost as if nothing had happened, except the hospitals were full and the graveyards had grown.
When Angels Fall (Demon Lord) Page 26
