Demon Lord V - God Realm (17 page)

"These will
keep you busy until I return to finish you." He turned to the
demons and gestured at Kayos. "Kill him."

The demons
bowed and moved towards Kayos, and Torvaran chuckled as he swung
away to stride back the way they had come, where there was a dark
region for him to tap. Kayos eyed the demons, preparing for a fresh
conflict. Although they were not a threat to him, they would, as
Torvaran wished, prevent him from resting. A younger god might have
fled as soon as Torvaran left, but Kayos knew that to do so was
folly.

Now that he
had found a light area to fight in, he must stay here. If he
travelled into a dark place and Torvaran caught him in it, he would
be doomed. The Hound sat some distance away, watching him, ready to
follow if he fled. So long as Kayos remained in this light region,
the battle would continue until his need for sleep forced him to
retreat into his shields, but that was still a long time away. He
raised his shields as the demons rushed at him, smashing away their
huge earthen fists and the searing light of molten eyes.

A crash of
breaking crockery from downstairs, followed by a scream, jerked
Bane from his doze, and he sat up. Sarrin had left shortly before
to order another meal to be sent up to the room, which she did with
a few hand gestures. The men leapt up and charged out of the room
before Bane could think to shout at them to stop, and he slid off
the bed. Sarrin had bound his eyes again to prevent him from
opening them, and now he wanted to tear the bandages off.
Stretching his hands out before him, he walked towards the door, or
where he hoped it was, and encountered the wall instead.

Groping his
way along it, he found the door and hesitated, glancing back at
Ethra's soul light by the far wall, and Mirra's on his bed. What
were the chances that something would attack them in the short time
he was gone? Deciding that it was negligible, and goaded by more
crashes and shouts from below, he slipped out and felt his way
along the wall towards the stairs. Sliding his feet along the
floor, he found the first step and paused, gazing down at the melee
of souls below.

A soft giggle
nearby told him that Frendar watched him with keen enjoyment, and
might even be responsible for whatever was happening. Although he
had assured Sarrin that Frendar had not caused the vampires to
attack them, for they were dark beasts and beyond his control, he
was quite capable of influencing events, and, given his age, was
more than likely to do it.

The shouts and
roars from below drove him to step down onto the first stair,
staying close to the wall's reassuring solidity. He tried to make
out what was happening in the common room, where a plethora of
souls surged back and forth, accompanied by the sound of weapons
striking flesh or stone. The lack of clashing steel told him that
it was not a battle waged between two armed parties, but against an
unarmed foe, like a dark beast.

Something
brushed his cheek, and he jerked around. His foot slipped off the
step and his ankle twisted with a crunch. He fell sideways,
grabbing the wooden handrail on the outside of the steps. The
railing bent under his weight, then broke with a crack, sending him
plunging over the edge. He flailed, seeking a fresh hand hold, and
grabbed the broken railing. His wrist twisted viciously as he
swung, then his fingers slipped from the wood. In the instant
before he struck the floor, he tried to use the blue power to
cushion his fall, but it did not work.

The impact
sent shafts of pain up his legs. His elbow smacked something solid,
probably a sturdy table, and his head cracked against the wall. He
lay stunned, his arm numb and his legs aching, bright lights
dancing in his head. Climbing to his feet, he leant against the
wall, rubbing the back of his head as he surveyed the battle once
more. Most of the souls in it were tainted, but he spied several
pure ones, which he guessed were Mithran, Grem, Artan and his men.
As he watched, a soul shrank to a point of dull red light and shot
downwards through the floor.

So, the dark
realm of this destroyed domain was intact and still functioned,
since it did not require a light god to maintain it. Another soul,
tainted but not dark, shrank to a brilliant blue spark, but instead
of shooting away from the melee, something trapped it. It expanded,
but this time Bane could not hear its psychic scream, nor did he
witness the visions of its life, for he was not the one who
destroyed it. The trapped soul swelled until its light became
faint, then it vanished in a flash of brilliance, briefly
illuminating the grotesque form of the creature that had destroyed
it.

The soul-eater
had a squat, gargoyle appearance, massively built and armoured,
bipedal and vaguely troll-like. Bane had not encountered anything
like it before, but that did not surprise him. The creature was
killing those who fought it at an alarming rate, but it did not
consume the dark souls, which were allowed to flee downwards. Bane
guessed that it was too heavily armoured and strong to be unduly
injured by the swords that were being used to hack at it, and would
probably slay all those who fought it.

Bane
hesitated, loath to enter into a battle with something as
formidable as the soul-eater without his power, and weak as he was,
but equally reluctant to perform a Gather and allow the horror of
the darkness back into his flesh. Spreading his hands, he drew in
the blue power that seeped from the air, summoning as much as he
could hold. He channelled it into his hands to form a ball between
them, which he could only sense. He held it until it was as large
as he could make it, then flung it at the soul-eater.

Grem staggered
back as a massive bolt of blue light streaked across the room from
the direction of the stairs and slammed into the grotesque beast
whose tough hide turned aside his keen sword with consummate ease.
The flare blinded him, and the creature roared, spinning away from
its puny opponents to seek the light's source. Its hide sizzled,
giving off blue smoke and a terrible stench of charred meat. It
staggered, swinging its ugly tusked head from side to side, its
glowing red eyes hunting for its new foe. He glanced towards the
stairs, where Bane leant against the wall, forming another ball of
light between his hands.

Grem shouted a
warning as the monster lumbered towards Bane, raising club-like
fists. Racing after it, he jabbed his sword into its back, but the
blade bent, barely marking its tough scaly hide. Bane lifted his
hands, the ball of light between them swelling into a blazing orb
the size of a man's head, and flung it at the monster. It struck
the beast in the chest in another explosion of brilliance, and the
creature staggered. Its roar of rage and pain shook the building,
then it lunged at Bane, loomed over him and dwarfed him with its
vast bulk. Grem shouted again and tried to distract the beast, but
it ignored his puny attempts to wound it and raised its fists to
pulverise the blind god.

The Demon Lord
jerked his head up, and the beast flew backwards several feet to
sprawl amongst the furniture and turn several tables and chairs to
matchwood. Grem narrowly avoided being crushed under it as it fell,
but two other fighters were not so lucky. The creature struggled to
rise, growled and shook its malformed head, lashing out at the men
around it. Bane created a third ball of blue fire, and Grem
wondered how he knew where the monster was. The beast was
thoroughly enraged now, and badly injured, its burnt skin sloughing
off to reveal dark meat that oozed black ichor.

Despite this,
it moved towards Bane again with surprising speed, using its arms
to aid its locomotion much like an ape. Bane flung the orb of
light, which struck the monster on the head and engulfed it in
bright flames. The beast emitted a high-pitched squeal, smoke
pouring from its burning skin, then lunged at Bane. Grem's heart
leapt in terror as the monster loomed even closer to Bane, and
again the blind god jerked up his head, hurling the beast away. As
it flew backwards, one of its club-like fists swung inwards to
strike Bane's left forearm a glancing blow. The Demon Lord spun
against the wall and rebounded off it to sprawl on the rush strewn
floor.

Grem
hesitated, torn between his wish to help Bane and the need to
finish off the beast, which thrashed amongst the smashed furniture,
blind and squealing. The fighters closed in to plunge their weapons
into its burnt flesh. Deciding that the monster was no longer
capable of doing much harm, Grem ran to Bane's side. The Demon Lord
gasped, his lips pulled back in a snarl of pain, revealing white
teeth filmed with blood, and his right hand gripped his left
forearm. Grem fell to his knees beside him, hesitating to touch him
lest he lash out, not knowing who it was. Mithran arrived and
dropped to his knees too, his eyes filled with anguish, and Artan
came to stand behind them.

"Bane, it's
me, Mithran. Are you all right?"

"No, I am not,
Father, and I know who you are."

"Your arm, is
it broken?"

Bane nodded,
biting his lower lip. "I fear it is."

"I'll fetch
Sarrin," Artan said, and ran off.

"Grem."

Grem started
in surprise. "Yes?"

"Go to the
room and guard Mirra and Ethra."

"Of course."
Grem jumped up and headed for the stairs, bellowing to Artan's men
and making one race up the steps with him.

Running into
the kitchen, Artan found Sarrin with several local women, huddled
together in a weeping group. When she spied him, she extricated
herself and hastened towards him.

"Is it
dead?"

"Almost. Bane
came to our aid. If not for him, we would all be slain."

"Is he all
right?"

Artan shook
his head. "His arm is broken."

Sarrin raised
a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. "Light save us. This just keeps
getting worse."

"He needs
you."

The old
priestess turned to the women, some of whom were strange creatures
indeed, and mimed her need for bandages and splints. One of them
went over to the kitchen cupboards and drew out a bundle, handing
some to her before heading for the common room with the rest to
tend to the other injured men. Sarrin shot a quick glance at the
monster that twitched amongst the wreckage as Artan led her over to
the side of the stairs that ran up the wall of the common room,
where Bane sat, nursing his left arm. Her heart contracted at the
sight of him, a lump blocking her throat. His head was bowed, but
the bandages kept the wings of ebon hair from hiding his pained
expression. She sank down beside him, laying a hand on his arm, and
he raised his head.

"Where is it
broken, Lord?"

Bane indicated
his forearm, and she hesitated, wondering if they should move him
up to the room first. In order to splint his arm, she would have to
remove his tunic and shirt, but was loath to do it in the presence
of so many strangers. While she paused, irresolute, Bane turned his
head to the side and snarled, "Leave me, or I may harm you
yet."

Sarrin gasped.
"But Lord..."

"Not you."
Bane faced her again. "I was talking to that infernal god brat who
taunts me."

"Frendar is
here?"

"Indeed,
revelling in the chaos he has wrought."

Sarrin glanced
at the empty space beside Bane. "He did this?"

"His idea of
fun, luring a soul-eater in here to see if I could kill it. He
finds the outcome most amusing."

She stared at
him, shocked by this amazing revelation, and still unable to decide
what to do, then marshalled her scattering thoughts and asked,
"Should we go to the room before I splint your arm?"

"No, do it
here."

"There are
people..."

"I do not
care."

Sarrin nodded
and undid his tunic, removing it with difficulty, hampered by his
proximity to the wall. He grimaced as she eased the sleeve off his
arm, and she noticed a red mark blossoming on his cheekbone, where
he had evidently hit his face on something, probably the wall. As
she undid his shirt, she became aware of a growing audience around
them, and glanced up at the ring of curious locals. Artan stood
over her, his hand resting on his sword hilt, a hard glint in his
eye as he glared at the spectators.

Mithran, Juvo
and a soldier stood beside him, ready to defend Bane if necessary,
although the Demon Lord was more than capable of defending himself,
as his slaying of the soul-eater testified. As Sarrin struggled to
tug Bane's shirt off his shoulders, a woman with feline features
and golden fur instead of hair came forward to help. Bane turned
his head towards her, making her hesitate, her lips drawn back to
reveal pointed canines. She joined Sarrin's struggle, and between
them they eased off his shirt. The watchers muttered when the rune
scars were revealed, and several moved away.

Bane's forearm
was reddened, and the bones grated together when Sarrin lifted it,
making her stomach clench. He bit his lip as she realigned the
bones, and groaned when she enlisted Artan's aid to pull on his
hand until the broken ends touched. As she placed the splints
around his arm with the help of the cat woman, Bane slumped
sideways. Artan and his men tensed, their eyes snapping around the
ring of spectators, searching for hostile intent, and the cat woman
looked up at them.

"Do you really
think we would harm your god, after he saved us all?"

Artan glared
at her. "I've learnt to distrust most creatures that I meet in this
god forsaken place."

"We're not
creatures, we're people, and we mean him no harm."

"Then why
don't they go about their business?"

The cat woman
shrugged. "They're curious. We've never seen a mortal god before.
We've wanted to see him since Tronak told us what he is, but you've
been hiding in your room."