Demon Lord VII - Dark Domain (11 page)

“We could make
use of the mortals again,” Kayos suggested. “He does not know about
them. Take him to the shredder room.”

“And be
stunned.” Bane frowned. “I dislike the notion.”

“It may be your
best option. Tolrar will keep his friend close to him now, and
fighting both of them will be extremely dangerous, especially in
the mid realm or dark realm. I will protect you from the
mortals.”

“Beast gods do
not enslave your kind, do they?”

Kayos shook his
head. “They just kill us when they can.”

“Does that
happen often?”

“No, but
sometimes they ambush us. The darkness always longs to snuff out
the light. They are strong, and sometimes render light gods
senseless with the violence of their attack, then kill them. Beast
gods rarely enter domains, though. They prefer to dwell in the God
Realm, where they wander the wastes killing stray mortals and dark
beasts. Whenever one rises in a dark realm, they inevitably lay
waste to the domain and kill its owner, although, if a light god
flees into the God Realm, he or she can sometimes give a beast god
the slip and return to their domain. Beast gods are invariably
savage, but they are reluctant to tangle with another dark god,
whether he is beast or man. In that respect they are like demon
gods. I think this one remains inactive because of its friend, who
clearly wishes to stay here for the sport, otherwise it would have
destroyed this domain long ago.”

“If Tolrar
finds out about the ship, he will destroy it.”

“He will have
to find it first, and the men on the ship know there is another
dark god loose in the mid realm. They will be wary.”

Sherinias
released Kayos and turned to Bane. “Bless you, My Lord, for saving
us from that... monster.” She took his hand and raised it to her
lips, then pressed it to her cheek and gazed up at him with adoring
eyes.

Bane inclined
his head and retrieved his hand as soon as he was able. “I only
wish I had defeated him, My Lady.”

“You will.”

Kayos clasped
Sherinias’ shoulder. “Come, let us rest now.”

Bane followed
them to the gazebo, where he flopped down on a couch and summoned a
cup of ambrosia. Sherinias shared Kayos’ cup again, making Bane
wonder if she was unable to summon her own.

“We should
close the world gate,” Kayos said. “Tolrar will not follow me here
now that he knows about you, Bane. He must think you want this
domain for yourself.”

“If I did, I
would have let him and Jerriss catch and enslave you, then defeated
him.”

“Not
necessarily. Some enjoy the chase.”

Bane nodded and
closed his eyes as the brilliance of the light realm made his head
ache.

Chapter
Five

Saviour

Governor
Predoran switched off the recorder on which he had been making a
depressing report as his intercom beeped and his assistant
announced that Major Ranjal was waiting to see him. Outside,
columns of smoke still rose in lazy spirals from ruined parts of
the city where fire fighters had succeeded in dousing the flames,
while other areas continued to burn. The fleeing crowds had found
shelter or transport into Bayona, and the cratered streets were
empty save for fire fighters, rescue teams and soldiers. In
undamaged parts of the metropolis, life had reclaimed a semblance
of normality, with shops open for business and a few people buying
food and essential supplies.

According to
news reports, citizens were stocking up, preparing for a siege or
more strife, thereby causing shortages. Some areas of Sarlan lacked
power, and looters made the most of the darkness to plunder and
vandalise. Predoran had ordered soldiers to restore order in those
suburbs, but lacked the manpower to stamp out the crimes. The fire
dome still had gaping holes in it, although repair teams had been
dispatched to fix the damaged emitters. Until the dome was
restored, the city was vulnerable to attack by the dangerous
creatures that dwelt in the Wastes. Predoran had received numerous
gloomy reports, which he used to compile an overview for President
Randoman, along with a request for aid.

Predoran gave
permission for the major to enter, and set aside the recorder as
Ranjal halted in front of his desk. “What is it?”

“A stealth ship
returning from a mission has spotted a group of people out in the
Wastes, sir. They’re just beyond Minto Peak, and they’ve got army
issue tents and groundsheets, but they’re civilians dressed in
old-fashioned clothes.”

Predoran
considered. “They must be the people the traitor Nikira left behind
when she returned. Are they armed?”

“A few have
swords.”

“They’re the
dra’voren’s followers.” Predoran tapped his fingers on his desk.
“They could be spying for him, or he might use them to attack the
city.”

“There are only
about fifty of them.”

“Who knows what
kind of threat they pose? They might be able to use the dark power,
or, at the very least, they could cause havoc in the city with
guerrilla attacks. The dome is damaged and we’re cut off from
Bayona, with only one destroyer and a couple of frigates.”

“And two
stealth ships, sir.”

Predoran
frowned. “Those people are evil, like the dra’voren, otherwise they
wouldn’t follow him. Bring some in for questioning, kill the
rest.”

Major Ranjal
hesitated, but then nodded. “Yes sir.”

Sarjan studied
the fiend, avoiding its sparkling eyes, which sent chills through
him. It had taken a great deal of courage for the scientists to
approach it close enough to sample its gas, using a long tube
attached to a suction bulb, which turned out to be a mixture of
nitrogen, carbon monoxide and sulphur dioxide. There was little
else to learn about it physically, since they already knew it
contained dark power. Its temperature was well below zero and its
presence chilled the room. Questioning it had become a trial of
wits, for its answers were evasive, and it sniggered a lot. Sarjan
walked around it for the umpteenth time, formulating another
question.

“How do you
reproduce?”

“I do not.”

“How does your
kind reproduce?”

Setiss
sniggered. “They do not, either.”

“How are new
fiends created?”

“We form from
the dark power.”

“How is your
element chosen?”

“We do not
choose it,” the fiend replied.

“Then how did
you come to be an air fiend?”

“By forming in
air.”

“Why do you
obey a dra’voren when he summons you?” Sarjan asked.

“He commands
the darkness.”

Sarjan stopped
to consider his next question. “Is Bane a god?”

“Yes.”

“What is a
god?”

“Far more
powerful than you, mortal.”

The commander
resumed his circumnavigation of the fiend. “Could he destroy this
domain?”

“Yes.”

“Are the others
with him creators?”

“Some are.”

Sarjan jumped
as the general alarm whooped through the ship and hurried to the
nearest com-screen to contact the central security station.
“Report!”

The security
officer who appeared on the screen shouted, “It’s the dra’voren!
He’s killing everyone!”

Sarjan cursed,
his mind whirling with dread, despair and disbelief. This was not
what he had come to expect from the mortal dra’voren. It seemed out
of character, but dra’voren were liars, and he could hardly claim
to know Bane all that well.

“Arm the guards
with automatic guns. He can be killed with bullets.”

“Yes sir.”

“Where is
he?”

“Number two
mess hall.”

Sarjan frowned.
Bane knew the ship’s layout, so what was he doing in a mess hall?
Closing the connection, he sprinted for the security station to see
for himself. It was not far from the lab, on the same deck, and he
reached it in a couple of minutes, bursting in. Four security
officers stared at one of the screens, which showed a tall man in
silver-trimmed black clothes standing in the centre of a wrecked
mess hall. Long grey hair framed his chiselled features and a
moustache and goatee bracketed his twisted, sneering mouth. Several
eviscerated bodies were sprawled around him, and a few survivors
hid behind the furniture. He blasted them with bursts of shadow,
sniggering much like Setiss.

Overturned
tables and chairs leapt into the air when the fire struck them,
sending those who hid behind them scrambling for fresh cover. The
pale grey floor bore the scars of many blasts, and blood splattered
the walls and slimed the floor. The dra’voren was clearly enjoying
himself, toying with his victims. The gore made the footing
treacherous, causing some of the fleeing people to slip and fall.
The dra’voren swept the walls with black fire, burning away drab
pictures in flares of white-hot flame.

A squad of
soldiers arrived at the door and took up position outside it, the
leader peering around the edge. At his signal, five men ran in and
fired at the dra’voren while others sought cover behind the
furniture. Sarjan’s mouth fell open as the bullets passed right
through the black-clad man, ricocheting off the wall behind him.
The dra’voren laughed and sent several bolts of dark fire at the
soldiers, who dived for cover. Three of the men fell writhing,
beating at their burning clothes with blood-chilling shrieks. Two
exploded in sprays of blood and guts, splattering the gory room
further.

“Puny mortals!”
the dra’voren roared. “Foolish human filth! You will all die! You
think you can defeat me with your stupid ship? Imbeciles! Scum! I
shall destroy it!”

“That’s not
Bane,” Sarjan muttered.

“How can you be
certain, sir?” a security officer asked. “He might be able to
change his form.”

“Yes, he
probably can, but that one’s not mortal.” Sarjan tapped the screen.
“It’s one of the others he told us about.”

“We’re in
stealth mode. How could he have found us?”

“I don’t know.”
Sarjan keyed the com-link, connecting with the barracks. “Send
another squad with light cannons to number two mess hall.”

“Yes sir.”

The dra’voren
continued to melt furniture and kill those who fled, and the number
of survivors in the mess hall dwindled as bodies piled up against
the walls. Ropes of darkness twisted across the floor like huge
snakes, pursuing victims with lethal efficiency. The dra’voren sent
his power crawling up the walls, causing them to melt and slump
into glowing pools.

The second
squad raced along the corridor outside, visible through the holes
in the bulkhead, and took up position behind the remaining areas of
wall. They fired bolts of blue light that burnt holes in the
dra’voren, who roared, raised his arms and sent a wave of shadow at
the soldiers. Some tried to flee, only to be engulfed within a few
strides and howl as they became human torches that ran on until
they fell, thrashing.

The dra’voren
guffawed. “Fools! Your puny weapons cannot harm me! I am Tolrar,
Lord of Darkness! You will pay!”

Sarjan said, “I
knew it.”

“Abandon ship,
sir?” a security officer asked.

“I don’t think
he’ll let us. At the moment he’s toying with us. He could destroy
this ship in a few moments if he wanted to.”

The ship
lurched, and the synchronised hum of its four generators became
dissonant as one died.

“He’s found the
generators!” the security officer cried.

The dra’voren
poured his power through the floor, sending it out into the ship.
On the security monitors, women screamed and men cursed and ran as
floors became molten and gave way, sending those on them plummeting
to their deaths in infernos far below. Blasts of fire ravaged
barracks full of soldiers, set dormitories alight and roasted the
crewmen in them. Cooks fled conflagrations in their galleys and
engineers died as explosions ripped through engines.

Sarjan closed
his eyes, blocking out the terrible sight, and whispered, “Bane, if
you can hear me, we need your help.”

The security
officer demanded, “What are you doing, sir?”

Sarjan opened
his eyes. “This one is Bane’s enemy. Maybe they’ll kill each
other.”

“And if he’s
not, they’ll kill us together.”

“That outcome
seems certain. It’ll just be over quicker.” Sarjan headed for the
door. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“That’s
suicide, sir.”

Sarjan stepped
out into the corridor and strode along it, stumbling as the ship
lurched again.

Nikira gazed
into the pot of water, waiting for it to boil so she could prepare
another cup of tea. She sat on the edge of the groundsheet in front
of Sarrin’s tent, using the communal fire that was kept burning for
cooking and warmth. Where the refugees found the wood for it was a
mystery, and she shuddered to think that anyone ventured into the
Wastes to forage for it. There could not be wood in the Wastes,
though, since there were no trees. Nothing grew in it, as far as
she knew. She had certainly never seen greenery on any of her
missions. Perhaps Bane or Kayos had provided it.

The tedium of
waiting wore on her nerves and the tasteless dry rations did
nothing to satisfy her hunger. The ground was too hard for her to
sleep and the view was depressing. Darkness swallowed everything
beyond the drab sandy valley, and Minto Peak was little more than
an outcrop of grey rock silhouetted against the blue glow of the
dome city beyond it. Without Bane, no one could understand her, and
communicating with signs was hard.

Several hours
ago, thunderous explosions had caused everyone to run to the rock
ridge and peer over it at the fleet warships that attacked the
Great Gate, and the resulting retaliation of the weapons around it
had been spectacular and frightening. The bolts of white light that
had destroyed tracts of the city had hit the far side of Minto
Peak, making her and the rest of the spectators seek cover, but
none of the refugees had been harmed. Thousands of people must have
perished in Sarlan City, though, and she cursed Governor Predoran,
who was undoubtedly responsible for the attack. The man was an
imbecile, and she hoped he had been amongst the casualties.