Demon Lord IV - Lord of Shadows (5 page)

"I've never
heard of such a god. Perhaps it was a black mage?"

She smiled,
shaking her head. "No. He destroyed an entire dark army with a
single stroke of magic."

"Why would a
god destroy his own army?"

"It wasn't his
army, it was Vorkon's."

"So he's a
rival?" The man glanced at his fellows again, who looked grim.
"There are now two dark gods battling for this world? We're doomed
for sure, if that be the case."

"No, you don't
understand. He saved us. He told me so. That's why he came."

"So he's a
good dark god." He smiled. "If there was any sun, I'd say you'd
been out in it for too long, girl."

"You don't
have to believe me, but that's what happened."

"All right."
He nodded and rose to his feet. "Can you walk?"

Shevra stood,
clutching the blanket, and the plump woman put an arm around her
shoulders as the group headed back the way they had come, towards
the city.

Bane did not
Move directly to the seventh ward, instead, he reappeared several
leagues away, so that if Vorkon sensed his power, it would not give
away the ward's location. That left him with a long, cold walk,
which he did not enjoy. When he arrived at the ward, he found the
prince consort slouched behind the barrier, clutching a wine skin.
In his terror at being left alone, he had consumed his entire
supply, and on an empty stomach to boot. He looked up with a
lopsided grin when Bane loomed over him, and held out the almost
empty wine skin.

"The great god
returns! 'Ave a drink!"

Bane growled
and bent to grip Tygon's collar, yanking him to his feet. "You
worthless piece of human dung. You are weak! A coward!"

Tygon plucked
at Bane's hands. "You left me to die, you bastard!"

"I am tempted
to kill you myself!"

"You cannot,
you need me! And I needed a drink!"

"I hope you
enjoy it coming up as much as you did it going down."

Tygon scowled
at him, bleary-eyed. "What do you mean?"

Bane allowed a
little dark power to flow from his hands, and Tygon went green,
then bent over and vomited, bringing up copious amounts of sour
wine.

"That," Bane
murmured, releasing him and walking away in disgust.

"You bastard,"
Tygon groaned, coughing and gasping as he retched. When the bout of
sickness had passed, Tygon sat blank-eyed, his face pinched and
drawn. Bane was tempted to summon a large amount of cold water and
dump it over the prince, but considering the freezing wind, decided
that it might not be advisable. Instead he dug in the consort's
pack until he found a flask of water, then knelt beside him and
held it out. Tygon scowled at him and tried to knock it from his
hands with an ill-aimed blow.

"Leave me
alone," he snarled.

Bane slapped
him. "Perhaps you need to be sick some more." He held out his hand,
and Tygon cowered back.

"No! I am well
enough now." The prince clutched his reddened cheek.

Bane thrust
the water skin at him again, and he took it, sipping from it with a
grimace. He accepted the parcel of food which Bane held out with
equally bad grace, and began to eat with all the enthusiasm of a
prisoner climbing the gallows.

"Where did you
go?" he muttered.

"Kimera was
attacked by a black mage."

Tygon frowned.
"Was she harmed?"

"No."

"What if I had
been attacked while you were away?"

"I would have
returned."

Tygon nibbled
on a sweet bun. "Vorkon might have snatched me. You would not have
been able to stop that in time."

"I have set a
ward in the ground here. It would have warned me of a channel
forming. And aside from that, if Vorkon found out about this ward,
or any of them for that matter, he would come here himself to
destroy it, and you."

"Exactly!"

"In which
case, I would have returned to fight him, and if the ward was
ready, take him to the Darkworld so that you could activate it and
trap him below." He leant closer. "But it is not ready, is it?"

Tygon's eyes
flicked to the ward. "No."

"Because you
were drunk."

"I was
scared."

"You are a
coward."

Tygon looked
down at the bun. "I am not a warrior. I am a poet."

"I do not care
what you are. Being spineless is not requisite for poets, is
it?"

The consort
continued to eat doggedly, his eyes lowered. Bane settled beside
the wall and heated the stone again, gazing at the ward. He
wondered how a beautiful, courageous woman like Kyan could love
such a cowardly man, even if she found him handsome. Then again, he
had often wondered how Mirra could love the man who had abused her
so badly, yet she did.

The dark power
dulled his compassion, but his love for his wife could evince a
violent reaction from him if he witnessed cruelty to innocents, he
had discovered. It reminded him of the cruelties that he had
subjected her to, and he disliked such reminders. Although the evil
would never again rule him as it had done when he had destroyed the
wards in the Overworld, she was his only link now to the compassion
that the dark power had walled away in his heart.

By
mid-morning, Tygon had recovered sufficiently to continue working
on the ward, pouring blue fire into its foundations to raise it.
When it stood a hundred feet tall, he stopped, and it settled back
slightly once more. He looked exhausted again, but approached one
of the sides and began to inscribe a rune upon it.

Bane pondered
the fact that magic appeared to be constant, since a stone ward was
created in exactly the same way here as it was in the Overworld.
Tygon only inscribed one rune before darkness fell, then joined
Bane in the shelter of the wall, his face lined and gaunt. He ate
at Bane's urging, and since there was no wine left, drank a little
water. Afterwards he fell asleep, and Bane joined him. Soon he
would have to face Vorkon in battle again, and he needed his
rest.

Half a day
after passing a fork in the road, Shevra's ragged group spotted two
supply wagons ahead, rumbling towards them. The bearded man, Imral,
ran to meet them, and the drovers hauled on the reins, halting the
team of six huge horses. Shevra and the rest caught up as the
drover climbed down and the captain joined him, eyeing Imral with
concern.

"Where are you
going?" Imral asked.

"Dragoran."

"That's where
we're from. Don't bother, it's gone."

The captain
pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "In that case, we're going
to Arbordan."

Shevra stepped
forward. "That's where I'm from. Don't bother, it's gone."

"Goddess!" The
captain ran a hand through his short flaxen hair and consulted the
paper again. "Then we return home. There are no other towns on this
road."

"May we come
with you?"

"Of course.
Climb aboard."

"Thank you."
She grabbed his sleeve when he turned away. "Captain."

"Yes?"

"Arbordan
received supplies only three days ago, why would you have gone
there?"

He looked a
little uncomfortable. "Standing orders. If the first town on our
list falls, we go to the nearest one to it. No point it going home
fully loaded after making the trip more than half way."

"Yet now
you're going back to the city. Are there are no other towns
nearby?"

"No. This area
is now uninhabited." He swung away and strode back to the second
wagon, shouting orders to the drovers.

They turned
the wagons with some difficulty, and Shevra climbed aboard with the
refugees, finding a pile of the rough cloth that was sent to the
villages. She made a nest in it, settling down for some much needed
sleep within the security of the wagon train and its escort.

Chapter Three

Fate

The next day
Tygon continued to work on the runes, carving them with his fists
as he had the ward atop the monolith. The work was not as
exhausting as raising the ward, and he seemed to recover some of
his strength. Bane dreaded another cry for help that would force
him to leave again. Bashir, sealed within his room, was reasonably
safe, as was Shrea, in the remote mountains.

The warlock
had stumbled upon Kimera by chance, he suspected, since the
creation of her ward did not entail the use of the blue power, and
would not, until its activation. Vorkon's search for Kayos
distracted him, and the Grey God was proving to be a valuable decoy
once more. As yet, Vorkon had not cast his Eye on this remote and
inhospitable place, probably because he did not expect to find
anything of interest out here. As long as Vorkon did not suspect
that a trap was being laid for him, it was safe.

By
mid-afternoon, Tygon had finished the last four runes, which were
far smaller than the pentagram. He joined Bane behind the wall,
looking tired but triumphant. When Bane offered him some food,
however, he shook his head.

"I feel
sick."

Bane held his
hand out just above the ground, discovering that the dark power
that rose from it was stronger, chilling his palm.

"Vorkon speeds
up his destruction of the Lightworld."

Tygon looked
alarmed. "The cities?"

"Doubtless
they are getting darker. Your machines will not be able to hold
this much dark power at bay for long. Drayshina's fall has allowed
him to speed the corruption of the Lightworld, since she can no
longer use her power to help your people."

"Do
something!"

"I can do
nothing until you finish the ward."

The prince
mage looked anguished, then jumped up and strode the monolith,
summoning his power. He poured it into the blazing cracks, and
after several minutes, the ward began to rise again. Bane leant
back against the barrier, pleased that Tygon had found something
that inspired him to work harder. The red glow faded from the
clouds, but Tygon continued to pour his power into the slowly
rising ward, sweat running down his pinched face. The edges of the
monolith grated as it rose, setting up a dull, monotonous grinding.
An hour after dusk, Bane rose and went over to him, tapping him on
the shoulder. The mage's eyes opened, but he did not stop his
work.

"Leave it now,
continue tomorrow," Bane advised.

"I cannot,"
the prince growled through gritted teeth. "I have to finish
it."

"You will
perish before you do, if you do not rest and eat."

"I cannot eat
anyway."

"Stop now, or
I will make you."

Tygon wilted,
the defiance draining out of him in the face of his inability to
defy Bane. Lowering his hands, he let the twin streams of blue
light dwindle and die. The ward settled back, then steadied, and
the consort's knees buckled. He sank down on his haunches, staring
into space with dull eyes. Bane dragged him into the lee of the
wall and slapped his face a few times to rouse him from his stupor,
casting a shield around him to keep out the dark power. When his
eyes had regained their focus, Bane handed him some food and the
water flask, and Tygon picked up a pastry.

"I do not feel
sick anymore. Has the dark power stopped rising?"

"No, I am
shielding you from it."

Tygon sighed,
taking a bite of the pastry. "There seems no end to what you can
do. I suppose you could restore this world, if you chose?"

"Not exactly.
I can undo what Vorkon has done, that is all."

"Then why not
stop him from doing this?"

Bane shook his
head. "It would be pointless. Two dark gods locked in a struggle
for supremacy would achieve nothing. If one of us eventually
triumphed, it would be centuries from now, and then the vanquished
would not perish."

"I thought you
were more powerful than him?"

"I am. But it
would still be pointless, even if I was assured of victory in the
end, since it would not destroy him."

Tygon ate in
glum silence, then lay down and fell asleep, his exhaustion
complete. He looked older and thinner, his cheeks sunken, his eyes
dark ringed and new lines bracketing his mouth. Bane wondered how
horrified his lovely wife would be when next she saw him, and how
old he really was, since blue mages, like their black counterparts,
lived for many centuries. His personality had changed too, and
although still cowardly, he had found a new font of strength with
which to create the ward, gifted to him by his concern for his
wife.

Shouts of
alarm, bellowed orders, and the clatter of galloping hooves woke
Shevra. The wagon bounced and swayed. Crawling from her warm nest,
she peered over the edge of the cart and gasped. The huge horses
careened along the road at a full gallop, the drovers cracking
their long whips over the beats' sweating backs. The platoon of
troops that had been following on foot was now mostly aboard the
second wagon, throwing supplies off to lighten its load.

A number of
men also crowded aboard her wagon, and the group of refugees were
huddled together in the middle of it. The soldiers hurled bags of
precious grain over the side, most of which burst when they hit the
road. The reason for their flight pounded in their wake, a throng
of dark creatures that moved with many weird, shambling gaits,
keeping pace with the wagons. Most of the soldiers in the second
wagon fired their weapons into the pursuing horde, and many fell
under the barrage of blue light, their writhing forms swallowed up
in the cloud of ash behind the wagons.

The wind
whipped Shevra's hair into her face, and she brushed it from her
eyes as she stared with horror at the creatures that pursued them,
drawing a little comfort from the fact that they seemed unable to
catch up. It was just a question of who tired first, however, them
or the horses. A foul oath came from the drover behind her, and she
swung around to find him and his assistant hauling on the
reins.