Demon Lord IV - Lord of Shadows (2 page)

The soldier
gaped. "What?"

"Shoot me. In
the hand. I want to see."

"You have
shields too."

"I am not
using any. That would be pointless, would it not?"

"I can't."

Bane tilted
his head. "Why not? You do know how to use it, do you not?"

"Of course.
But without orders, I would be in trouble."

"I am giving
you an order. Do you see anyone here who outranks me?"

The soldier
stepped back. "No, My Lord, but if you were hurt..."

"I will take
it as a learning experience."

"You would be
angry, and strike me down."

Bane smiled.
"If you do not obey, I will just make you do it."

"You can do
that?"

"Of
course."

The soldier
glanced around for support, but his companions averted their eyes
and sidled away, the officers stood blank-faced. Shrea, who knelt
beside Tygon, grimaced and turned away. The soldier gulped, then
raised the weapon and pointed it at Bane's hand, backing away a few
steps. Bane closed the gap and pressed his hand to the end of the
silver tube.

"Shoot."

"My Lord, at
that range..."

"Just do
it."

The soldier
hesitated, then screwed up his face, turned his head away, and
activated the weapon. Brilliant blue light flared at the end of the
tube, and a sharp pain lanced through Bane's hand. The dark power
beneath his skin turned the blue fire away, and it shot back into
the weapon, which melted. The soldier dropped it with a yelp, and
Bane hissed and snatched his hand back, shaking it. The man spat on
his reddened palms, trying to cool them, and Bane examined the
slight red mark on his hand.

"Ouch."

The soldier
backed away again. "I'm sorry, My Lord."

Bane frowned.
"Interesting."

One of the
officers strode up. "He was only doing as you wished, My Lord."

"I know." Bane
cast him an irritated glance. "Perhaps you should tend to him, not
pick on me."

"Yes, My
Lord." The officer took a canteen from his belt and poured water
over the soldier's hands. Bane strode back to the carriage,
glancing at the comatose prince consort.

"Put him in
the carriage; we must return to the city."

When the
soldiers had remounted the wagons, the little cavalcade turned and
headed back to Avadorn.

Kayos sipped
his ambrosia and chuckled, gazing into the Eye, which followed the
three vehicles along the road. Syrin, who had been watching over
his shoulder, moved back to the bed and sat down, smiling. Mirra
continued to watch the scene within the Eye, standing on the other
side of the Grey God. Mithran and Grem peered over her
shoulders.

Kayos waved
his cup at the Eye. "He is a child. He still experiments, like a
baby testing the end of a pin with a finger. His power fascinates
him, and he plays with it. And he is curious about you, little
angel. Beware that he does not decide to toy with you, to see how
you react." The Grey God shook his head. "So much power in the
hands of one so young."

"You fear
him?" Syrin enquired with a slight smile.

Kayos looked
pensive, and a little sad. "Anyone who does not, be he mortal or
god, is a fool."

"But you are
far more powerful than he, great lord."

He snorted.
"It is not a matter of how much power we have, but what kind, silly
child. I have the power to create all this." He gestured
expansively. "But he has the power to destroy it. Which do you
think is more dangerous?"

"You could
kill him."

"His mortal
body, yes. But once he rose as a true god..." He shook his head
again and sipped his ambrosia. "Dark gods have ever plagued us and
destroyed us, all but the Seven. Fortunately they destroy each
other far more often, so as many as rise from dark realms, others
are destroyed, keeping the balance."

"Has a light
god never been able to kill one of the dark ones?"

"No one has
ever been able to wield the white power in a destructive manner,
though many have tried, including myself. Some have created mortals
and channelled it through them, but always at the cost of the
mortal's life. But Vayter did destroy a dark god once, many aeons
ago. They met in the God Realm, and the dark god came upon Vayter
so suddenly that he could not flee, so he cast up his shields and
hid within them. The dark god hammered at his shields for many
years, but could not break them.

"Vayter,
growing bored, put himself into a deep slumber. In his slumber, he
dreamt, and unknown to him, there was a Realm Seed within the
sphere of his influence. It was buried in solid rock, trapped there
when its domain collapsed. In his dreams, Vayter created a domain
of unimaginable horrors, where all the laws were broken, and the
Realm Seed bloomed, following his dream. When the Realm Gate
appeared, the dark god, intrigued, entered it. The horrors within
must have been truly terrible, and when the dark god tried to
escape, he found that the Realm Gate had vanished, and the domain
was collapsing.

"It did not
disintegrate and free him; it closed like a mighty fist. A god
cannot pass through the boundaries of a domain, they contain
powerful wards much like those that the blue mages will create
between the Lightworld and the Darkworld in this domain, except far
more powerful. Nothing can pass through it. The dark god was
trapped, and so was the Oracle. When the domain crushed the Oracle,
it unleashed its power, and the dark god was destroyed." Kayos
shrugged and sipped his ambrosia. "At least, that is what I heard.
I have not seen Vayter for aeons."

Syrin gazed at
him raptly. "Amazing."

Kayos grunted,
watching the three vehicles enter the city.

Bane stepped
down from the carriage before it stopped moving, impatient. Tygon
tottered after him, pasty-faced and downcast, Shrea at his side.
Bane stopped within the hall and turned to the prince consort.

"I want Bashir
and Kimera brought here, and bring me a map of this domain."

Tygon gave the
order to a hovering officer, and then gestured towards a door in
the side of the hall. "There are maps in here, My Lord."

Bane followed
the blue mages into a room furnished with a polished wooden table
surrounded by high-backed chairs. A vast map hung on the far wall,
covered with the snaking lines of borders and rivers.

"There must be
seven wards," Bane said as he studied the map. "The first one
should be here." He pointed to a place at the top of the map.

Tygon frowned
at the spot. "The Rathgarian Wastelands. A terrible place, My Lord.
Icy tundra swept by cold winds."

"Four more
must be arranged in a pentagram, thus." Bane sketched the shape
with a finger, ignoring the sour prince. "And two in the centre,
linked with the others, like so."

Shrea picked
up a writing implement and marked the points that Bane had
indicated, then joined them with lines, forming a giant, pentagonal
shape with lines running to the two central points within it.

Bane nodded.
"Yes."

Tygon studied
the markings. "That puts the second ward in the mountains of
Millaran, and the third in the city of Ishkarad. That is in Vandin,
and they are not our friends. A blue mage there would be in grave
danger, for they abhor magic."

"They are at
Vorkon's mercy too, and plagued by demons as you are now."

"Even so
-"

"It must be
created there, whether they like it or not."

Tygon wilted
under Bane's cold gaze. "Yes, My Lord. But the Rathgarian
Wastelands are many hundreds of leagues to the north; it will take
months to get there."

"You will not
be walking."

"Even on
horseback..."

"I will take
you."

Tygon looked
like he wanted to run. "Yes, My Lord."

"Look." Shrea
indicated a spot on the map. "The seventh ward will be right here
in Avadorn."

"That is
actually the first ward, but will be created last," Bane said. "The
seventh is the one that you will create, Tygon."

The consort
looked puzzled. "But that will be the first."

"They are
named in the order of their power, not of their creation. The most
powerful is the seventh."

"This one
could be a problem," Shrea said, scrutinising the location of the
second ward. "It is in the middle of a river."

"It does not
have to be exact."

"Then the
third ward does not have to be in Ishkarad?" Tygon looked
relieved.

"Moving a ward
location to avoid a river is one thing, but for a bunch of people?"
Bane shook his head. "That ward, which is actually the fifth, will
be in Ishkarad."

"My Lord, they
are atheists. They will stone the mage to death."

"I will not
let them."

"Of course, My
Lord."

Bane shot
Tygon an impatient look, irritated by the man's subservience. Shrea
distracted him, deliberately, he suspected.

"Will you be
taking all four of us to our destinations, My Lord?"

"Obviously."

"Then I will
be going to the mountains of Millaran, and Bashir to Ishkarad.
Kimera will go to..." She glanced at the map. "Rith Forest."

"What is your
mastery?"

"Links, My
Lord."

"And Bashir
and Kimera?"

"Illusions and
Runes."

Bane nodded
and turned to Tygon. "You have made your preparations?"

He hesitated.
"I did not know where I was going."

"Then you had
better find some warm clothes. I will Move Kimera first, then
Bashir and Shrea."

Tygon headed
for the door, where he almost bumped into Bashir, who bowed and
stepped aside to allow the consort to pass, then entered, followed
by Kimera. They carried bundles of provisions and were dressed in
hardy, warm clothes, looking nervous and a little excited. Bane
turned to Kimera, who shrank from him when he held out his
hand.

"Take my
hand."

She glanced at
Bashir and swallowed. "Now?"

"Yes."

"Where are we
going?"

"Rith
Forest."

Kimera touched
his fingers as if expecting to be burnt. Bane took hold of her hand
and pulled her closer.

"This will be
unpleasant for you."

Kimera opened
her mouth, and he Moved. They reappeared in a forest of vast,
spreading dead trees hung with the rotting remnants of flowering
vines and withered orchids. The air had undoubtedly once been
filled with heady scents and birdsong, but now smoke and silence
tainted it. The mantle of ash covered a thick carpet of leaves that
crackled underfoot, and patches of black, shrivelled ferns thrust
through it, their dry leaves whispering in the slight breeze. The
web of bare branches overhead dulled the red glow from the clouds
further, making it even gloomier. He released Kimera, who fell to
her knees and vomited. The touch of the dark power was always worst
the first time, he mused, walking away to gaze around at the
scenery. It must have once been pretty, for a mid-realm, but lately
he had found himself longing for the dark caverns of the Underworld
again.

Kimera took
several minutes to recover from the Move, drinking from a flask to
settle her stomach and wash the taste from her mouth. He waited
until she got shakily to her feet and looked around, clearly
dismayed.

"Here? But
there is nothing here but trees. I need stone."

"Then find
some. It does not have to be on this exact spot. Find what you need
and use it."

She nodded,
and he turned away. "Wait!"

Bane swung
back. "What is it?"

"What if...
Vorkon finds me? Or his mages?"

He shrugged.
"Pray."

"To the
goddess?"

A faint smile
curled his lips. "No. To me."

"I do not know
if I can do that."

"It is easy,
just speak my name and beg my aid. I will come."

"I worship
Drayshina."

"I did not
tell you to worship me. Pray or die. Your choice." Bane swung away
and Moved.

The three
mages recoiled when he reappeared in their midst. Tygon turned
green and pulled out his handkerchief, pressing it to his lips in a
foppish manner that set Bane's teeth on edge. Bashir stepped
forward.

"I cannot go
to Ishkarad. They will kill me."

"You can and
they will not," Bane said. "I tire of this carping. Do you wish to
save your world or not?"

Bashir gulped.
"Of course we -"

"Then do as I
say. In my world, five of the seven blue mages died setting their
wards. Are you prepared to make the same sacrifice?"

Bashir glanced
at Tygon, who was ashen-faced. "Yes."

"Good. With my
help, it should not come to that. But you should be prepared to
give your lives, or you are useless to me."

Tygon turned
away, clutching his crumpled handkerchief, and Shrea took his arm
in a comforting gesture. Bane cast him a contemptuous look, and
then turned to Bashir.

"There is no
time to waste."

Bashir picked
up his bundle of provisions and took Bane's proffered hand with
only a slight hesitation.

They
reappeared in a dingy side street populated by beggars and scrawny
children, and Bashir doubled over, retching. Bane made them
invisible as he glanced around, waiting for the mage to recover.
The city's predominantly brown hue made a nasty first impression.
It appeared to have been built entirely from brown bricks, capped
with steeply slanted grey slate roofs.

Its only claim
to beauty of any sort was the delicate iron filigree that edged the
tall roofs and the intricately designed spires that tipped them.
Litter lay strewn about the dingy alley, and the dull walls were
streaked with grimy black streaks. A fire wall surrounded the city,
but it did not seem to be as effective as Avadorn's. Grey clouds
hid the sun and hung over the dismal city like a shroud. Bashir
straightened and gulped from his flask, grimacing.