Demon Lord V - God Realm (4 page)

Chapter Three

Dark God

Bane glanced
at the demon, longing to denounce him to the others, but unable to
without revealing himself as well. Only a god could sense a demon
in droge form. Their illusion of flesh was perfect, and this one
even had what appeared to be an old scabbed wound on his thigh. In
domains they were detected through their deeds, and their presence
was confirmed when a priest performed an exorcism. Possessions were
similar, but easier to discern, since the possessed person was
prone to fits and a change of character, often times appearing mad.
He wondered why this one had chosen to join this shabby group
instead of remaining in his domain, and it seemed likely that he
had followed someone out of a Realm Gate.

The demon
might also have wandered out of a collapsing domain, perhaps even
Artan's. His reason for staying with the group seemed to be his
female companion, and perhaps her attractions were his sole
motivation. He was in no danger from the creatures of darkness, but
his pretence of being human required him to aid in their defence,
and in that regard he was useful. He was, however, a threat to
Bane, who did not doubt that he would seek to kill him if possible,
for just as Bane knew what he was, a demon knew a god when he was
this close to one as well. A guard was always posted when the group
slept, but often it was the demon, at which times Bane did not
sleep.

Since the
attack they had remained camped, feasting on the foul flesh. Bane
had hidden his share, unable to stomach it. Wherever Artan thought
he was going, he seemed in no hurry.

Bane looked up
as Artan declared that they were moving out, and the group rose and
broke camp. They packed the cooked meat into the bags with the rest
of their possessions and stamped out the fire. Fresh torches, made
from the oily hides of the slain dark creatures wrapped around long
poles, were lighted, and Bane stood up, surveying the bedraggled
group. Sooner or later, he supposed, someone would notice that he
did not share their dirty appearance, and he hoped that he could
convince them that a black mage could ward off filth like he could.
The group resumed its defensive formation, and Bane followed the
priestesses in the centre as before.

A couple of
hours later they came across a stand of dead trees, and the group
gathered wood, solving the mystery of where they got it from. Bane
surmised that they encountered the trees on a regular basis, and
wondered why no one had noticed this. A bundle of wood was thrust
into his hands, and they continued on. They had only walked a short
distance when the darkness twitched and the world spun. Bane
staggered sideways, narrowly missing one of the soldiers, and fell
to his knees, his head spinning. The group stopped, and Artan
strode over to him.

"What
now?"

Bane shook his
head, wishing it would stop pounding. "It happened again."

"The world
moved?"

"Yes." The
dark power surged, and the bands on his wrists glowed. He swallowed
bile, his flesh prickling.

Artan stared
at the shackles. "How did it move?"

Bane pointed
off to the right. "We were going that way before."

Artan looked
at Ethra, who snorted. "He lies."

Bane glared at
her. "Why would I lie? How often have you encountered those dead
trees?"

"Never
before," Artan asserted, frowning.

"So they do
not look the same each time, but you find wood regularly, and
water."

"Yes. But if,
as you say, this is a trap, why would we be provided with what we
need to survive?"

Bane shook his
head. "I do not know. Perhaps they were there before the trap was
created, or they might have been provided to prolong the suffering
of whoever falls in here."

Artan looked
uncertain, and Ethra walked closer, scowling at him. "You would
believe a black mage? A worshipper of the darkness? He's not trying
to help us!"

Bane stood up
as the high-pitched thrumming came from the darkness. "They
come."

Artan swung to
face the gloom as the dark creatures boiled from it again. Bow
strings twanged, and one beast fell, shot through the head, then
the rest were upon them. Bane flung himself aside as a grey shape
shot towards him, and it flashed past. He rolled to his feet as
another came at him, beak agape, and he leapt away. One of the
priestesses screamed as a beast sank its beak into her arm.

Bane ducked
between two creatures and charged the one that held the old
priestess, sending it flying with a double-handed punch. Its beak
tore a gash in her arm as she was flung sideways. Bane whipped
around just in time to duck under a clawed arm, and smashed the
creature aside with his manacled hands. Another shot towards him,
and he threw himself down, letting it streak past. Their speed was
a formidable hunting asset, but became a liability when they
encountered something faster.

Bane glanced
around. The demon and his companion stood back to back, holding the
creatures at bay with sweeps of their torches. Artan and his men
cut and hacked at the beasts that attacked them, but had little
time to defend the group's weaker members. A shriek drew his
attention to the other side of the pool of light just as Ethra went
down under a monster, her thin legs flailing. Everything slowed,
and Bane realised that he had taken hold of time. He sprinted to
Ethra, who writhed beneath the beast, her face twisted with
terror.

The monster
had her by the throat, its beak poised to sever her jugular. Bane
kicked it, sending it flying into the darkness, then he lost his
grip on time and everything speeded up to its former frenetic pace.
Ethra coughed and rolled onto her side, groping for the torch she
had dropped. A wailing scream came from the centre of the group,
and Bane whipped around, then leapt backwards as a beast rushed at
him. He tripped over Ethra and sprawled in the dust, rolling away
as the beast's beak struck the ground where his head had been a
moment before. The wailing scream grew fainter, and he sprang to
his feet as the beasts vanished into the darkness.

A stunned
silence fell, and the priestesses began to weep. The burly man
walked towards them, then stopped and gave a roar of grief. He
tried to run into the darkness, but two soldiers grabbed him and
held him back. He fought them at first, then fell to his knees,
sobbing. The girl child was gone. Bane gazed into the darkness, his
chest heaving. Artan came to stand beside him, raking him with a
hard glance before turning to watch the weeping man.

"She was his
daughter."

"I gathered as
much," Bane said. The dark power surged, making the shackles glow.
Its sullen animosity filled him with rage, and he fought to control
it.

Artan studied
him again, frowning. A fresh wound in his shoulder oozed blood, and
dust mingled with sweat on his face in brown smears. "Still you
don't have a mark on you."

Bane shrugged.
"Lucky I suppose."

Artan surveyed
the group. The young priestess bound the older one's arm, two
soldiers tended to minor injuries, and Ethra nursed her bruised
throat. Artan walked over to the burly man and patted him on the
back, then went to the priestesses and squatted beside them. Ethra
joined them, and they muttered together for a while, glancing
occasionally at Bane. He could have sharpened his hearing to listen
to their conversation, but decided it was probably nothing he
wished to hear. He suspected that he had revealed too much of his
abilities during the battle, and now there would be unpleasant
consequences. Artan stood up, helping the old priestess to her
feet, and she approached Bane.

The Demon Lord
looked down at her aged mien as she stopped before him and pushed
her cowl back, revealing white hair and piercing green eyes. Artan
stood behind her, his hand on his sword hilt.

"You are not a
black mage," she stated.

Bane's eyes
narrowed, and he glanced at Artan, trying to gauge their mood.
Ethra had wandered behind him, and he was keenly aware of the rusty
dagger she carried. Artan watched her, the tension between them
palpable. The priestess extended her hand towards Bane, and he
stepped back.

"Do not touch
me."

Artan tensed,
and something sharp pricked Bane in the back, preventing his
further retreat. He knew that Ethra now stood close behind him, her
dagger pressed to his kidneys, so he stood still. The priestess
laid a hand on his arm, then snatched it back with a hiss.

"You carry too
much power for a black mage, and you move too fast for a mortal
man. Perhaps you are a demon."

Bane shook his
head. "I am not."

"Let's see if
he bleeds, Sarrin," Ethra muttered.

"That would do
us no good," the priestess said. "We would see whatever he wished."
She glanced sharply at the girl. "Since he saved my life, and
yours, I think he deserves fair treatment."

"He did that
to gain our trust," Ethra snarled, and Bane winced as her dagger
jabbed him.

"Perhaps, but
if he is a demon, he can be exorcised."

Bane's brows
shot up. "Why would you wish to banish one who has shown that he
can, and will, help you?"

"Because you
are evil, and one such as you is not capable of selfless acts. You
must have an ulterior motive. Perhaps you enjoy our suffering,
which you do not share. You do not eat the food we give you, and
the beasts do not harm you."

"They would if
they could, and eventually they probably will, when I make a
mistake."

"Or you will
pretend that they have."

Bane shrugged.
"If I was a demon I could do that, yes. Exorcise me then, if it
will convince you that I am not a demon."

"We will,"
Ethra snarled, shoving him forward, and the priestess stepped
aside. The young seeress jabbed the dagger into his back again,
making him walk closer to the fire the other members of the group
had built while they had been talking. When he was a few paces from
it, she tugged on his cloak.

"Kneel."

Bane sank down
with a sigh, turning his head to glare at her. "You might want to
show a little gratitude, girl."

She hissed and
pressed the dagger to his throat, reminding him that he was at her
mercy. "I would not thank a monster like you."

Artan stepped
closer, frowning. "He's not to be harmed, Ethra."

"A demon
cannot be harmed."

"We don't know
that he is one yet."

"Only a demon
could move as fast as he did."

The old
priestess came to stand before Bane, and her younger companion
handed her a golden bottle. Bane stared into the fire as she
intoned the words of exorcism, wondering if it would have any
effect on the dark power within him. It surged a little as her
liturgy built to a climax, but not enough to cause him any
discomfort. Sarrin sprinkled some holy water on him, and stepped
back. The group stared at Bane for several moments, then Sarrin
turned to Artan.

"He is not a
demon."

"What is he
then?"

Sarrin shook
her head. "I know not."

Bane glanced
over at the demon, who sat on the other side of the fire, watching
him. The exorcism had not affected him because it had not been
directed at him, but it had clearly made him uncomfortable. Ethra
pressed the dagger into Bane's neck until he winced and leant away
from her, then Artan strode over and dragged her away. Sarrin stood
gazing down at him for a little longer, looking puzzled. She joined
the others by the fire, and the subject of what he was seemed to be
shelved for the moment. The priestesses were content to let him be
so long as he was not a demon, and the possibility that he might be
something worse had not occurred to them, apparently. No one
offered him any food, and after a while he lay down and went to
sleep.

Kayos stopped
before a wall of black rock, glancing up and down the tunnels that
ran off in opposite directions along it. In one direction it led
into an area of glowing redness, in the other into darkness, but
his intuition told him that Bane was somewhere ahead. He raised his
hands and gestured, and pearly light streamed from his fingers. The
rock opened, and he stepped into it, the steeds close behind.

Bane gazed at
the pool of black water, the first he had seen in the God Realm.
The group hastened to it and knelt to drink and fill their water
skins. He calculated that they had been walking for several hours,
but time was hard to judge in the constant darkness. While the
group was occupied with the water, he turned away and summoned a
cup of ambrosia to slake his thirst. The terrain around the
waterhole was strewn with bones, either because the victims of this
trap spent more time here, or because something hunted them here,
or both.

Splashing drew
his attention to the pool, where the group washed off the grime,
their thirst slaked. Dismissing the ambrosia, he wandered back as
they emerged and set up camp. As soon as a fire was lighted, the
young priestess handed out food to be heated on it, and Sarrin and
Ethra spread wet clothes around it to dry. Bane dumped his load and
settled down by the fire, rubbing his aching legs.

Bane's nape
hairs bristled, and he sharpened his sight as he glanced around.
The darkness shivered, and part of it moved, taking on a hulking
shape that raced towards the far side of the camp where Ethra
spread a tattered dress out to dry, oblivious to her danger. Bane
leapt up and charged straight across the group, who recoiled in
surprised as he ran right through the fire. He reached Ethra an
instant before the creature did, bowling her over as he sprang
between them. She sprawled with a shocked yelp, and the monster hit
Bane with the force of a galloping horse, knocked the wind out of
him and sent him rolling in the dirt.