Demon Lord V - God Realm Page 2

  Artan broke into his thoughts again. "Can you help us to find and enter another world?"

  "I would be more inclined to help you if you released me."

  Artan glanced at Ethra, who listened to their conversation shamelessly. She snorted, her lip curling. He shook his head. "Not until you convince us that you mean us no harm."

  "Why would I wish to harm you?"

  "Ethra thinks you want to, for whatever reason, but we cannot risk ignoring her. She has warned us of danger in the past, and she's been right. Perhaps for your own sick pleasure, who knows?"

  Bane cast an angry look at Ethra, the source of his woes. She paled, her brows knotting, then yanked a long rusty dagger from her belt and lunged at him. Bane flung himself sideways, his bound wrists hampering him. Artan sprang to his defence, grabbing the girl as she lunged at Bane again. She landed a few well-aimed blows on Artan's head before he trapped her wrists and wrenched the weapon from her hand. He cursed and hopped when she kicked him in the shin, then slapped her, putting an end to her struggles.

  Artan glared down at her. "Until I decide to kill him, you leave him alone."

  "He's evil!"

  "He can help us."

  "He won't! He'll lead us into danger."

  The warrior glanced at Bane. "Then we won't follow him."

  "Then what good is he?"

  "He can help us fight the monsters."

  "He's more likely to stab you in the back during the battle."

  "Then I'll kill him myself."

  Her eyes glinted. "You'll be dead!"

  "He isn't armed."

  "That won't stop him."

  Artan pushed her away, making her stagger back. "I'm not going to argue with you. He stays alive until I say otherwise, and if you try to kill him again I'll leave you here for the monsters, understand?"

  "You can't do that!"

  "Why not?"

  "The others won't let you."

  Artan cast an eye over the group. "They can stay with you if they wish, but my men go where I go and do as I say."

  Ethra glared at him, her chest heaving, then stalked away to the edge of the light. Artan walked over to Bane and squatted beside him again.

  "Did she cut you?"

  "No."

  "I didn't think so. You move pretty fast."

  Bane suppressed a smile at the understatement. "Would you really leave her behind?"

  Artan sighed. "I wouldn't like to, but if she undermines my authority it will affect our survival, and that I can't allow." Bane nodded, and Artan stood up. "Can you walk?"

  Casting a glance at the guard who still kept a bead on his heart, Bane rose to his feet. Artan studied him, frowning.

  "Well you're certainly big enough. Can you fight?"

  "I know how to use a sword."

  "A pity you don't have one then."

  "Indeed."

  Artan smiled. "Prove that we can trust you, and I might give you one."

  Bane opened his mouth to ask how he was supposed to gain their trust, but Artan swung away, gesturing to the others. "Pack up, we're moving out."

  The group broke camp with the speed and efficiency of long time travellers, packing their few belongings into several packs that were distributed amongst the non-combatants. One of the soldiers thrust a leather satchel into Bane's hands, and he slung it over his shoulder.

  The four armed men took up positions on the outskirts of the group, next to the four torch-bearing members, who were the demon, his female companion, the burly man and the young seeress. The two priestesses walked in the centre of the group with the girl child, keeping their distance from Bane. He was glad that he was no longer the target of the soldier's crossbow, which was now pointed at the darkness around them. Even the wood that had fuelled the fire had been stamped out and collected.

  As they walked, Bane considered his situation, disliking it. He wondered where Kayos was, and what he was doing.

  The Grey God studied the spot where Bane had vanished. The Demon Lord's faint trail led into the ground at that point, which had solidified again after it had swallowed him. Kayos had avoided the same fate by a hair's breadth, and wished that he had not. Finding Bane in the God Realm was not going to be easy. The trap was one of many that dark gods had set in their wanderings. It had not been there the last time that he had come this way, for his old trail passed right over it. He considered triggering it again in an attempt to follow Bane, but traps were unpredictable in the God Realm, and it was more likely that he would be flung into a different place. The rune that marked the trap had been skilfully concealed with a glamour, which hid it even from a god's sight.

  The only clue he had as to Bane's whereabouts was the direction in which he had gone, significant in this many-layered realm. Following the trail downwards did not guarantee that he would find Bane, but there was no other option. With a gesture, he summoned an Eye and sought Bane's image within it. The Eye remained dark for several minutes, then filled with swirling sparkles. He touched its frame to increase its power. It cleared, and he studied the image that formed. Someone had tried to block him, but lacked the power to prevent him from penetrating their shield.

  Bane would not block him, and if he did, Kayos would not have been able to break through. He scrutinised the group that walked within the Eye, wondering which of them had tried to block him. Bane glanced up, sensing the Eye, as did a scruffy young girl carrying a torch on the edge of the group. Kayos watched her, but she gave no indication that she had sensed him, and her glance might have been following Bane's. Dismissing her as insignificant, he turned his attention to the Demon Lord. Bane appeared unharmed, but his hands were bound in front of him with slender bands of pale bluish-silver metal. Kayos adjusted the Eye's focus to examine the cuffs more closely, dismay chilling him. Faint, glowing words were inscribed in the metal, invisible to anyone but a light god, although Bane might be able to discern part of them, if he looked closely enough. Even so, he would not be able to read them.

  Kayos frowned. A light god had forged the shackles Bane wore, and they were made from adamante, a metal found only in light realms. Such artefacts were only made when a light god battled a dark one, which was rare, and usually only happened when the light god was unable to flee his domain. They were a last ditch effort to save himself from capture or destruction during the final confrontation with his foe. If he could snap the shackles about the wrists of the dark god, he would win. Kayos had never heard of the tactic working, since once he was that close to his foe, a light god was doomed. Many were too proud to accept defeat and retreat into the safety of their shields, and foolishly tried to overcome their foe with such an artefact. Such light gods were young, and their names were soon added to the roster of the dead. Three of his sons had perished in such a manner, despite his warnings.

  Had a light god ever succeeded in placing such an artefact upon his foe, however, the outcome would have been certain. The dark god would lose his ability to wield his power, and become virtually helpless. One who was born a god, such as Bane, would retain his inborn powers, but most dark gods were self-made. As long as Bane wore the cuffs, he would be unable to use the dark power, not even to cast it out. If he could do that the cuffs would fall off of their own accord, but the words written upon them spelt his doom.

  No darkness shall pass.

  Kayos waved the Eye out of existence and looked down at the trail at his feet. Finding Bane was more urgent now. He was in a dark place, where there would be dangers the band of scruffy humans could not hope to defeat for long. He was not certain exactly what affect the shackles would have on Bane, apart from preventing the use of his power, but that was bad enough. Bane was unusual not only in his mortality, but also in his upbringing. Pain and betrayal had tempered him, then love had saved him. He knew what it was to be powerless, but never when he had needed it to protect himself.

  Turning away from the trap, Kayos told Mirra and Mithran what he had seen in the Eye. They slumped with relief, and Mithran patted
Mirra's shoulder with an encouraging smile. His assurance did not appear to hearten her much, and Kayos suspected that he was equally perturbed, but hid it better.

  "What will you do?" she asked.

  "Follow him. It is the only way to find him in the God Realm, but it will not be easy. The people he is with are moving, which makes it worse."

  Kayos chose a spot far enough from the trap so he did not trigger it, and began a Shaping. Taking hold of the God Realm's substance, he moulded and bent it to his will, making it flow like water in his mind. Kayos had dreamt many domains into being, and what he did now was similar, except he was awake, and he lacked the power source of a Realm Seed. A Shaping took vast amounts of power, and it flowed from him in rivers of shining rainbow light. His use of it made him a beacon far brighter than any other in the God Realm, and many would be drawn to him.

  The ground oozed open, as if parted by a giant hand, to form a tunnel that angled downwards, filled with pearly light. He stepped into it, and the little group followed aboard the steeds. It parted before him and closed behind. Within the glowing pocket, he descended swiftly, wishing not only to find Bane, but also to leave his foes behind.

  Bane glanced at Ethra, puzzled. When he had sensed the Eye, he could have sworn that she had glanced in its direction as well, although she might have been following his gaze. Now that they were on the move, the group was a lot edgier, peering into the darkness and jumping at shadows. From this, he deduced that they were usually attacked while travelling, when their light was less without the big fire they built when they camped. He sharpened his sight to look into the gloom, which appeared to be empty for the moment. They passed many crumbling bones, some huge and alien.

  The darkness twitched and the world spun. Bane staggered sideways, collided with the burly man and sent him sprawling with a curse. The group stopped, and four crossbows swung to point at Bane, who continued to stagger. He tripped over the brawny man's legs and fell to his knees. The sensation of spinning stopped, but the giddiness remained, and he clasped his pounding temples. The dark power within him surged, and the bands on his wrists glowed. Artan strode over to him, his crossbow ready.

  "What is it?"

  Bane shook his head, needles of pain lancing his brain. "I do not know. Something changed. Everything moved. We are no longer going in the same direction."

  Artan glanced around. "Nothing has changed."

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

  "And how do you know this?"

  "I just do."

  Artan snorted. "Are you a seer, too?"

  "No. But I sensed it."

  Artan looked at Ethra, who shook her head. "I sensed nothing. He's lying."

  "Why would I lie?" Bane demanded.

  "Perhaps you wish us to go in circles," Artan said.

  "Why would I want that?"

  "Who knows? Get up, we must continue."

  Bane rose to his feet. "This is a trap. We are being made to go in circles while the creatures of darkness feed. You will never escape it unless you let me guide you."

  Artan snorted, glancing back down the trail. "Look at our tracks, they don't turn."

  Bane followed his gaze and nodded. "Yes, I have seen this before. The track goes straight, but the world turns."

  "Madness," Ethra said. "He seeks to mislead us."

  The Demon Lord swung around as a high-pitched thrumming vibrated the air, his eyes scanning the darkness. "Something comes."

  Artan glanced at Ethra, and this time she nodded, the colour draining from her face. "They come!"

  The soldiers turned and aimed their weapons at the shivering darkness, and Bane peered into the gloom. The shadows came alive, disgorging darker shapes that defied description. Hatchet shaped, eyeless heads with flat, gleaming beaks topped sinuous necks. Dark power mantled their bulky bodies, clinging to them like ragged cloaks and veiling thin, winged arms tipped with sharp curved claws. Powerful hind legs propelled them along at a bouncing run, and long tails balanced them.

  Bane barely had time to glimpse their weird shapes before they entered the light in a rush. Crossbows twanged, and bolts sprouted from the chests of two of the creatures, who hardly seemed to notice them. The soldiers dropped the spent bows and drew their swords as the creatures reached them. The torch-bearers lowered their fiery staffs and thrust them at the beasts. The dark creatures avoided the light and rushed the centre of the group.

  The priestesses shrieked and cowered, covering the girl child with their arms as the pocket of light became a maelstrom of blurred movement and screams, blood spraying in bright spurts. One of the torch-bearers went down, his torch scattering sparks as it hit the ground. A blur of dark grey movement came at Bane from the side, and he spun, throwing himself out of way. The creature flashed past and veered towards one of the soldiers, then Bane leapt aside again as another rushed at him. He collided with something solid and went sprawling, rolling in the dust as a huge mottled grey shape loomed over him, its hatchet head stabbing towards his face. His hands flashed up and gripped its neck, and he unleashed the dark power.

  The bands on his wrists flared to brilliant white luminescence, and he cried out as incredible agony shot through him. The creature in his grasp burst into flames and collapsed on top of him, thrashing. He tried to thrust it away, but the blinding agony had robbed him of his strength, and it continued to sear through him, making him writhe and groan.

  The burning beast was pulled off him, and Artan stood over him, a bloody sword dangling from one fist. He stared at the incandescent shackles, his expression one of shocked disbelief. Bane rolled onto his side, struggling to free himself of the cuffs. The dark power hammered at his flesh, burnt his blood and crisped his bones, hating the white power in the shackles that held it trapped. A nimbus of blue surrounded the cuffs, and the light from them was blinding.

  "Take them off!" Bane shouted, holding his hands towards Artan. "Take them off now!"

  Artan hesitated, then dropped his sword and reached for the shackles, his fingers finding the pin that held them in place. He tugged at it, grimacing and squinting against the blinding light, but it would not move. "I can't! It's stuck!"

  "Take them off!" Bane yelled, writhing as the dark power surged through him. "It is killing me!"

  "I can't!" Artan bellowed, his expression desperate. "Whatever you did, undo it!"

  Bane arched his back as he fought the pain, certain that his flesh was on fire. He twisted and pulled at the cuffs in a frenzy. The metal bent and stretched under the strain of his massive strength, which had returned with his panic, but snapped back unharmed. The thin bands cut into his wrists, adding to the pain of his burning flesh, and he cried out, writhing. The dark power he had unleashed sought release, but it could not escape, so it consumed him.

  Hot tears trickled down his cheeks, and he forced himself to think in spite of the pain. If the power could not escape, he must leash it again, something he had never attempted before. Usually the power ran through him, and more from the shadows replaced that which he unleashed, but now he had to force the same power into quiescence again. He was dimly aware of people shouting nearby, possibly at him, but he could not make out the words through the roaring in his ears.

  Bane took hold of the power in his flesh and rammed it back into his bones, forcing it to submit to his will even though it fought against him more strongly than ever before. It longed to destroy the shackles, and although he shared its wish, he was now convinced that the shackles were indestructible. Leashing the power took every ounce of his will. Once released it had a purpose, to kill his enemy, but since it could not do that, it turned on him.

  It seemed like many hours later that the pain diminished enough for Bane to become aware of his surroundings again. When he opened his eyes, the shackles shone with soft rainbow light, and Artan squatted beside him, watching him. Bane continued to leash the power, which became easier as more and more of it was stored once more. The shackles dimmed as
he forced the power back into his bones, and the agony faded.

  Artan leant forward. "What happened?"

  Bane held out his wrists. "You must take these off."

  "I tried. It won't open anymore."

  "Try again!"

  Artan took hold of the shackles and tugged at the pin, but it would not move. "It won't release."

  Bane groaned as the last dregs of dark power seeped from his flesh, which throbbed in the agony's aftermath. For several more minutes he lay on his back, his eyes closed, gasping dry air into his burning lungs. He was aware of the group standing around him, staring down at him, then Artan growled an order at them, and they drifted away to make camp. When Bane opened his eyes and sat up, Artan still sat beside him, watching him with a concerned expression. Ignoring the warrior, he lifted his wrists to study the cuffs.

  The metal had stopped glowing, and, as he turned the gleaming bands, the torchlight caught bright lines within the metal. It could have been some arcane script, but the lines seemed disjointed, and he could not read the words. He frowned at them, summoning the god power with which he had been born. He used it to change materials, and the cuffs were metal, albeit a kind he had not seen before. If he could turn them into a base metal, he would be able to break them.

  The metal began to glow again softly, then it seemed to flow around the bands like quicksilver, seeking to evade his will. He concentrated harder, and the flow increased its speed until the bands appeared to be spinning, but the metal remained unchanged. Bane gave up and raised his eyes to meet Artan's, who gaped at him. The warrior closed his mouth and looked away, and Bane surveyed the camp.

  By the fire, the carcasses of two creatures of darkness lay butchered, their flesh so dark it was almost brown. The group sat around the fire cooking chunks of meat on the ends of sticks, casting furtive glances in his direction. No one appeared to be missing, but one of the priestesses had blood on her robes, a soldier nursed a bandaged arm, and the burly man had four deep scratches across his cheek.