Demon Lord III - Grey God Page 21

  "What fools you are," he sneered. "Just a few weeks ago we killed one of you here, and yet you return."

  "Like lambs to the slaughter," the dark-haired youth jeered. "Or perhaps they think themselves powerful enough to take us on, Ravid?"

  Ravid spat. "Then they must be senile, Daryn, or they want to die before their world. Which is it, old man?"

  Bashir put his arm around Kimera's shoulders and held her close. "I would say that you are about to find out."

  Daryn laughed and raised his hands, starting to Gather. It had no visible effect on the shadows around him, but Bane sensed the dark power flowing into him. These mages were more powerful than the ones he had met in the Overworld, but were still puny. Their flesh could not contain much dark power. It sickened them, and leaked out constantly, since they did not have the ability to store it. They had to Gather it each time they wished to use it, and the amounts they were capable of using were small.

  To him they were pathetic, but to the blue mages they were deadly. Bane now stood behind the two older mages, whom he had decided would be the first to die, since they were sure to be the most powerful of the five. All of them had started to Gather, muttering strange words under their breath to aid their concentration. Bashir pulled Kimera into his arms, and a shimmering blue shield sprang up around them. Ravid laughed.

  "That will not do you much good, old man. Better start praying, although that will do you even less good, since your pathetic goddess is our slave."

  Bane placed his hands on the older warlocks' heads and sent twin surges of dark power coursing into them, far more than their flesh could withstand. They gave short, choked screams as their skin blackened and crisped, then they exploded in a shower of guts and gore that splattered their companions, their torn bodies collapsing onto the bloody grass. The remaining warlocks turned to gape at the eviscerated bodies of their former mentors, a look of stunned disbelief on their faces.

  The dark-haired youth cursed and raised his hands to form a black shield before him. The other two looked irresolute, then one muttered some strange words and gestured. Bane sent a bolt of black power at him before he Moved, and he leapt into the air with a shriek as it struck him. He collapsed, curling into a writhing ball, moaning with pain. The other mage followed Daryn's example and made a shield, retreating towards the fire wall.

  Bane became visible, his cloak swirling around him, animated by the surge of dark power he released, letting it flow from his hands in falls of shadow. The warlocks' eyes widened in horror and dismay, and they turned their shields towards him. A smile curled Bane's lips as the colour drained from their pallid faces, the dark power within him rejoicing at their fear.

  "Do not bother sending a prayer to Vorkon," he said. "He will not come. He has no wish to face me again."

  Daryn's mouth worked before he could form words. "You are... you are a..."

  "Dark god. Yes, I know."

  "Then why did you...?" Daryn's eyes flicked to the two corpses.

  "I dislike black mages. They annoy me, always have. Besides, I am on their side." He nodded at the blue mages.

  "Why?" the second black mage demanded.

  Bane shrugged. "I choose to be."

  "You are going to kill us," Daryn muttered, his breath coming in short gasps.

  "Yes."

  "Then why do you toy with us?"

  "You should know the answer to that question, boy. The dark power enjoys it, and therefore, so do I."

  "Then you are evil."

  Bane smiled again. "Worse than you, I suspect."

  "I will fight you."

  The Demon Lord laughed. "Good for you! A little entertainment will brighten my day. So far it has been rather drab."

  Bashir released Kimera and stepped forward. "My Lord, they could be saved, cleansed in the temple."

  Bane shot him a scathing glance. "They were going to kill you."

  "That does not mean we must act the same way. They are influenced by the dark power. They are young, they can be reformed."

  Daryn spat. "Never, you doddering fool!"

  Bane chuckled. "This one thinks he can beat me. He has courage, I will give him that." Daryn swelled with pride, and Bane's smile vanished. "And he basks in my praise like a lizard in the sun. Pathetic."

  The youth's face hardened, hiding the pain that Bane's scathing words brought, and his green eyes glinted. "You killed the older mages because you thought them the most powerful, but you are wrong. I am the most powerful, and I will not be so easy to kill."

  "To me, it will be like swatting a fly." Bane raised a hand, and the sandy-haired mage cringed, but Daryn lifted his chin.

  "Strike then. I am not afraid to die."

  Bashir raised his hands. "He could become a blue mage."

  "Never!" Daryn snarled.

  "Why would you want one such as he?" Bane inquired.

  "We need all the help we can get."

  "I will reform," the sandy-haired youth cried, and Daryn swung on him, his handsome features twisted in an ugly scowl.

  "You coward! Vorkon will rip out your heart and feed it to you."

  "You see?" Bashir spread his hands. "It is their fear of Vorkon that holds them to the dark path."

  Bane eyed the young warlocks. "Perhaps, but they chose it."

  "In ignorance."

  "No," Daryn growled. "I wanted it."

  Bane shook his head. "They are corrupted, beyond your aid. Their souls belong to Vorkon, and will be his playthings after they are dead."

  "They can be redeemed, as, I suspect, you once were. Once cleansed of the dark power, our lady can reclaim their souls."

  The sandy-haired youth released his shield and fell to his knees. "I will be cleansed! Spare me, I beg you!"

  Daryn glared at him. "Rigar, you spineless worm! Stand up and fight!"

  "He is willing." Bashir looked pleased.

  Bane studied the sandy-haired youth, sensing deception in his words. "He is lying."

  Rigar swung and flung a bolt at Bashir. Bane gestured, and a black wall shot up between them, absorbing the power before it could strike the blue mage. Bashir stumbled back with a cry, raising his hands. He tripped and sat down with a grunt, his expression a mixture of chagrin, anger and fear. Kimera rushed to his side and helped him up, brushing at his clothes until he stopped her with a meaningful look. Bane frowned at Rigar, who cringed, and Daryn cast him a half-apologetic, half-admiring look. Rigar climbed to his feet, eyeing Bane.

  "Enough of this," Bane said. "I weary of it."

  As he raised his hands, Daryn growled and charged him, yanking a dagger from his belt. Rigar flung himself sideways, clad himself in shields and hurled a bolt at Kimera, who screamed and dropped. Bane flung twin bolts with a languid gesture of his hands. One struck Rigar's shields and sent him rolling with a scream, the other hit Daryn. The young mage howled as the dark power engulfed him, his shields unable to absorb it all, and it scorched his skin. He flung himself at Bane, his dagger cutting the air where the Demon Lord had been an instant before, but Bane was already out of reach.

  Bashir leapt to Kimera's aid, crouched over her and added his shields to hers, forming a blue dome in which they sheltered. Daryn howled with rage and pain, his skin reddening as Bane's power burnt through his shields. He fell writhing, clawing at the air and biting his lips as his skin blackened and crisped, his hair igniting in a fiery halo. His shields collapsed, and he exploded with a sickening thud, his screams cut off in mid-shriek, his blood spattering Bane.

  Rigar scrambled to his feet, released his shields, and tried to Move. Bane directed a lash of shadow at him, and he collapsed with a choked cry, writhed, then lay still. In the deathly hush that followed, Bane turned to look at the blue mages huddled beneath their shield. It vanished, and Bashir sat up, holding a trembling Kimera close, her face hidden in his shoulder. The blue mage glanced at the still groaning black mage who had tried to flee earlier on.

  "What about him?"

  Bane shrugged. "He is d
ying."

  Bashir averted his eyes from the mutilated corpses of the other four and helped Kimera to her feet, guided her to a seat and sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders. His face was grey with shock as he looked up at Bane.

  "Could you explain what happened? Why some died more quickly than others?"

  "Why?"

  "Just curious. Kimera needs a moment to recover."

  Bane glanced at the bodies. "The first two were not expecting an attack, so I was able to touch them, and they had no shields." He nodded at the groaning mage. "That one tried to Move, and also had no shields, but I did not use enough power to kill him outright. Daryn had shields, so it took a little longer to kill him, and Rigar had to drop his to Move. I could have killed Daryn quickly had I wished it, but he was arrogant, and a slow death was his punishment."

  Bashir nodded, looking sick. "A horrible business. I had really hoped that they could be saved, like you were. I am right, not so, My Lord?"

  "Yes, but I was not completely corrupted, they were. That, according to Kayos, is what makes me a tar'merin."

  "How did you become a mortal god? I did not think such a thing was possible."

  "I was made one in my mother's womb, by a dark god."

  Bashir looked puzzled. "Why would he do such a thing?"

  "Because he needed me to break the seven blue wards that bound him in the Underworld. Only a mortal could pass through the wards, and only a god could break them."

  "Kayos said that you are young, but to use so much power you must be several hundred years old, like them." He nodded at the cadavers.

  "I am twenty-two." Bashir's mouth fell open, and Bane continued, "As for my using so much power..." He smiled. "What I expended here was a trifling amount."

  "You are a youth!" Bashir burst out. "How is that possible?"

  Kimera lifted her head and frowned at Bane. "It is not."

  "I started to use the dark power when I was sixteen years old," Bane said. "My training was... rigorous, yet I know now that what I knew then was very little, and my powers were slight. They have developed over the years, but I still have much to learn."

  "Amazing," Bashir muttered.

  Bane glanced at Kimera, who seemed to have recovered somewhat from her shock. "We should find Tygon and set out on this journey, before Vorkon learns of the death of his mages."

  Kimera rose and straightened her blue gown, which swept the ground in graceful folds, belted with a silver chain. "I am all right now." She smiled at Bashir when he took her elbow.

  "I can tell you where he is. You can get there far quicker than us," Bashir said.

  "No, you are still..." Bane sensed a channel forming beneath the mages, rising swiftly from the Darkworld. He closed the gap between them and sent them sprawling with a push, taking their place as the ground grated, writhed and opened like a dark, rock-toothed maw. He sent his power downwards to counter the draw of the Fetch, standing upon a column of shadow. Spreading his hands as if in benediction, he murmured two harsh words. The earth quivered and creaked, then the maw slammed shut with a dull boom. The Demon Lord drifted down to the ground and cut off the power, frowning at the mages, who gaped at him.

  "You have been here for too long. We must leave."

  Bashir helped Kimera up, brushing dirt from her gown. She was pale and wide-eyed again, Bashir looked stunned.

  "Come." Bane turned and headed for the gates, glancing back to ensure that they followed. Bashir caught up as he pushed open the gates.

  "What was that?"

  "A Fetch."

  "Vorkon tried to abduct us?"

  "Yes."

  Bashir gulped. "And you..."

  "Closed it."

  The blue mage shut the gates behind them. "Are you as powerful as Vorkon?"

  "No." Bane cast him a slight, mirthless smile. "I am more powerful than him."

  "How do you know that?"

  Bane paused at the edge of the road and looked around for transportation. "How do you summon one of your carriages?"

  "We will have to walk back to the main road."

  Bane set off, and Bashir strode beside him, trying to match his long steps, but was forced to trot every few paces to keep abreast.

  "How do you know?" he repeated.

  "I fought him, remember?"

  "Oh, yes. But then, why did you not defeat him?"

  Bane glanced at him, his eyes glacial. "Defeating a dark god is not easy."

  "I did not think that it was. I merely thought that, if you are more powerful than him, you would be able to defeat him."

  "I will."

  "But why did you not do it when you fought him? Why do you need our help to set wards? Why do you not simply destroy him?"

  Bane stopped and swung around, his slanted brows drawing together. Bashir recoiled a step, and Kimera cast Bane a nervous glance, taking Bashir's arm.

  "Enough questions, mage. You seem to forget to whom you are speaking, and I dislike your insinuation. Perhaps I seem too human for you to treat with respect, but I assure you, I do not like it."

  Bashir's Adam’s apple bobbed. "Sorry, My Lord. I meant no disrespect. It is just that people are dying, at this moment, slaughtered by Vorkon's foul army, and I long for an end to it. You have no idea the horrors being perpetrated on innocent people even as we speak..."

  "I once led just such an army, and perpetrated such horrors myself."

  Bashir blanched. "Of course. Forgive my stupidity. You do not seem so evil."

  Bane strode towards the bustling thoroughfare again, and Bashir hurried after him. "You are not, are you?" he persisted, to Bane's annoyance. "I mean, you would not do those things now, would you?"

  "No."

  Kimera tugged at Bashir's arm. "Leave him be, Bashir."

  They reached the busy road, and Bane stopped at its edge, glaring at the passing carriages. Bashir halted beside him, patting Kimera's hand. "No, I will not, my dear. He just saved our lives twice, yet he thinks himself evil. No man, or god for that matter, should think so little of himself if it is not true, and I do not believe that it is."

  Bane pinned him with an icy glance. "What are you, some sort of head doctor?"

  "As a matter of fact, I am. I council people who suffer from illnesses of the mind, bad dreams, or who have suffered at the hands of others."

  Bane snorted. "The first twenty years of my life were a bad dream, and I have suffered more than you can imagine, but I do not need your help, Bashir. I am what I am, and you know what that is. I think you overestimate your abilities if you think that you can convince a dark god that he is not evil."

  "But how can you be, if you fight for the light?"

  "Summon a carriage," Bane said, "or I shall stop one myself, and its owners will not enjoy the experience."

  Kimera stepped into the road and raised her arm to flag down a passing carriage that was empty save for the driver, and it pulled over to the side of the road. She dragged Bashir aboard, and Bane followed, sitting opposite them again. The blue mage gave the driver the name of their destination, and the carriage hummed away from the kerb. Bashir opened his mouth, and Bane raised a finger, making him hesitate.

  "Enough. I will silence you if you persist."

  "You can do that?"

  "Yes."

  Bashir glanced at Kimera, who shook her head, then settled back in frustrated silence. They headed across the city, passing through a poor quarter where houses jostled together in a dreary huddle, and simply clad people thronged the streets. Beggars sat in dirty doorways, holding tin cups out to passing strangers. Bane was disappointed to find poverty in this city, his estimation of it dropping. Although their plight was not as bad as some that he had seen, it seemed more reprehensible in such a rich metropolis. He turned his thoughts to the Fetch that had formed in the gardens, considering its implications.

  The black mages must have informed Vorkon of their intention to slay Kimera and Bashir, but he had not turned his Eye upon them. The Fetch could only be formed fro
m the Darkworld, which meant that Vorkon had been below at the time, and so had known of the death of his mages when their souls had joined him. Doubtless the mages had told him who had slain them, and he had formed the Fetch in vengeance, trying to snatch Bane's new allies from under his nose.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Saviour

  They crossed several intersections and moved into another affluent area, stopping before a paved compound. Tall, square buildings with lots of windows surrounded it. They disembarked, and Bashir paid the driver, then led Bane to the spiked iron gates guarded by two soldiers.

  "These are the barracks," he explained.

  The guards snapped to attention when Bashir reached the gates, and pulled one open for him to enter, eyeing Bane. He followed Bashir towards a door in one of the four storey buildings. Another pair of guards saluted the blue mages and opened the doors, and they entered a broad, plain hall with an odd flat ceiling. It appeared to be merely a gathering place, with bare, white-painted walls and a smooth stone floor. A group of about two dozen soldiers stood together in the far corner, idly chatting, while two officers waited nearby. All wore dark blue uniforms with flexible armour, the officers denoted by thin lines of silver on their collars and cuffs.

  Tygon paced in a circle in the centre of the hall, his hands clasped behind his back, while Shrea watched him from a few paces away. He looked up at the sound of their footsteps, his tense, worried expression relaxing into a hesitant smile. Bashir trotted ahead to meet him.

  "What happened?" Tygon demanded of the blue mage. "What took you so long?"

  "It was amazing, my prince. We had to wait some time for the evil ones to appear, and ..."

  Bane glanced around as a glimmer of light caught his eye. Syrin stood a few paces away, her hands folded before her in a regal pose, her wings framing her form with glowing white feathers. Bane stopped and faced her, shooting a glance at the blue mages, who were engrossed in Bashir's story, and did not appear to have noticed her.