Demon Lord VII - Dark Domain (29 page)

“True. I hope
it is as easy as you make it out to be.”

“It is better
than leaving them here to wreak havoc.”

“They can wreak
even more havoc if they come with us,” Kayos said. “They have
probably seen the potential, and that may be another reason they
agreed.”

“I will be on
my guard. Perhaps I should bring a demon along to spy on them.”

“That would
probably be prudent.”

They sipped
ambrosia in silence for a while, then Bane asked, “So, if the plan
is to snatch Ashynaria and flee into the God Realm, how long do you
suppose we will have before Telvaron discovers her theft?”

“That depends
on how closely he guards her. Not too long, I would imagine. I will
block his Eye, and if he does not know about our visit, he will
send his minions to search the domain first. Only a dark god can
free her from the duron chains, so he will suspect that one has
risen from the Underworld and snatched her, since the possibility
of a tar’merin rescuing her is so miniscule. By the time he
considers the possibility that a dark god came into the domain, we
will be long gone, and, as you said, the ship leaves no trail for
him to follow.”

“Presumably
Ashynaria is in the mid realm?”

“Yes. Telvaron
has built a citadel around her, and she lies at the bottom of a
pit. Hundreds of thousands of her people have perished trying to
free her over the centuries. Armies have laid siege and been
decimated. Squads of warriors have tried to reach her in vain, not
knowing they cannot free her from the duron chains. Telvaron
encourages such attempts, for his amusement, and ensures many
people worship her, so the battles to free her are unending. She is
known as the Chained Lady, or the Fallen Goddess.”

“And once I
free her, her domain and all her people will die.”

“Yes.” The Grey
God reclined and sipped his ambrosia, gazing across the garden. “An
unfortunate inevitability.”

Chapter
Fourteen

Eternal
Flame

Sherinias
walked along a shining street paved with diamond and alabaster, her
eyes drawn to the many wonders of the White City. Silver-trunked
trees spread skeins of misty leaves that threw no shade since
everything glowed with white fire. Sparkling crystal fountains
tinkled in spacious squares, adding their soft music to the balmy
air, and pale stone houses nestled in cloud gardens around parks
where children played with beloved pets. Idle souls rowed boats on
azure lakes or strolled in forests of star-flowered trees. Others
congregated in murmuring groups to watch her pass, and in the
distance the Oracle’s scintillating tower spiked the multi-hued
sky.

A dark soul
caught her eye, and she headed towards a man whose spirit-form
swirled with corrupt colours, who watched her approach with mild
curiosity. Apparently the souls had not yet realised who she was.
The Oracle whispered in her mind, urging her to cast the tainted
spirits out of the White City. They did not belong here. Her
strides lengthened as she neared the man, angered by his arrogant
lack of respect.

She made a
languid, dismissive gesture. “
Tharack nadure
!”

The man’s
expression changed to horrified realisation, then his spirit-form
melted away and his red-tinged soul shot into the ground, drawn to
the Land of the Dead now that the world gates were closed. The dark
souls she had dismissed before the gates closed had now all been
sent to the dark realm, while tainted spirits had descended to the
mid realm, where they would doubtless cause fear and consternation
amongst her people. Sherinias continued along the street, covering
vast distances without effort as the ground passed beneath her feet
faster than her strides carried her. Thus it was in the White City,
where everything was perfect; except for the tainted souls. She
wished the Oracle could banish them, even though casting them out
was quite satisfying, there were too many of them, and her initial
enjoyment had become impatient annoyance. At least no more could
enter the White City now that she had closed the gates, but still,
the task had become tedious.

No one else
could help her, except perhaps her father, but he and Drevarin
lounged on their couches, watched over the domain and listened to
prayers. Drevarin probably would have helped her if he could, she
reflected. Bane could not even enter the White City, being mortal.
Even though the Oracle had now learnt what he was, and she had
welcomed him to the light realm, it still considered him a threat,
which she found strange.

Sherinias
banished several dozen more tainted souls and headed across a misty
lake towards another group, then paused, a little unsure, as a new
voice whispered in her mind. The whisper came again, stronger, and
this time many voices joined in, full of love and reverence. Joy
and strength coursed through her in a warm wave, as if sunlight
suffused her, and she grinned. Someone prayed to her, and not only
one person, a whole group praised her name.

Sherinias
laughed, giving a little skip and twirl. The prayer continued, one
voice dominating it now. The woman told Sherinias that a temple had
been prepared for her, with a cup of clear oil and a new wick, and
she begged the young goddess to grant her and her followers the
gift of the white fire. Sherinias rose into the air and flew
towards the cliff that surrounded the White City, heading for the
gazebo where her father resided. She bounced into it, bursting with
her news, and paused when she found the Demon Lord reclining on the
couch beside Kayos’, a cup of ambrosia in hand.

She paused to
bow to him, remembering her manners. “My Lord.”

He inclined his
head. “Lady Sherinias.”

Kayos regarded
her with twinkling eyes. “So, you have heard your first prayer,
child.”

She settled on
the couch beside him. “How do you know, Father?”

“It is the only
possible reason you would be so happy.”

“It is
wonderful! It is a priestess who once worshipped Pretarin. Not only
one, many of them. I had to tell you right away.” Sherinias waved
an Eye into being, eager to see her first worshippers. The scene
that formed within it showed the inside of a humble building, its
pale blue walls devoid of ornamentation, tall windows letting in
shafts of cool light. Rows of wooden pews faced a simple,
cloth-draped altar, and dozens of white-robed women knelt at
prayer, their hands clasped. A slim, dark-haired woman stood in
front of the altar, her arms raised, her expression serene as her
lips moved, speaking the words Sherinias still heard in her
mind.

Kayos watched
her with a smile. “Has she a name, so we may all see her?”

“Karillin.”

He looked at
the Eye that hovered in front of him, and the scene within it
changed to one identical to hers.

“She begs me to
light the eternal flame, Father,” Sherinias said.

“Then you
should.”

Bane studied
his own Eye. “That is the priestess I saved from the
Underworld.”

“You told her
about me?” Sherinias asked.

He shrugged. “I
might have mentioned you.”

“Thank you, My
Lord.” She turned to Kayos again. “Will you take me to light the
flame, Father?”

“You do not
need to go down there. You can order the Oracle to do it.”

“But I want
to!”

Kayos sighed
and glanced at Bane, who smiled. The Grey God said, “Tell the
Oracle to do it. You are not ready to go amongst men yet.”

“Please,
Father. They are my priestesses, and they beg my attendance.”

“Of course they
do, but that does not mean you must rush down there. They do not
truly expect you to appear, you know.”

“But I should.
They need to see me, to know that I exist.”

Bane murmured,
“She is right.”

“You take her,
then,” Kayos said.

“You are her
father.”

“You are her
brother.”

Sherinias rose
and approached the dark god, whom she still found a little
intimidating, especially when he had his power. The faint blue
nimbus that surrounded him and the tiny flames that glimmered where
he touched the pale couch told her that he carried it now. “Please,
My Lord.”

“Why can you
not order the Oracle to transport you?” he enquired.

“It will not. I
do not know why.”

“Because you
are too young,” Kayos said. “You cannot Move or make yourself
invisible.”

“I can
fly.”

“She can bite,
too, if memory serves,” Bane remarked.

“I doubt that
will intimidate demons,” Kayos retorted.

Sherinias said,
“Surely I will be safe with you, or Lord Bane, and soon I will be
here alone, unable to visit my people for two hundred years.” She
cast Bane a shy glance. “If I do not go, they might think you lied,
My Lord.”

He snorted and
smiled. “That will come as no surprise.”

“But you did
not! Do you not want to prove it?”

“I really do
not care.”

“I do! I want
my people to believe in me, and for that they must see me.”

“Mend your
tone,” Kayos rebuked her. “Remember to whom you speak, child.”

She bowed her
head to Bane. “I am sorry, My Lord. I beg you for this small boon.
It will take but a moment of your time.”

“Enough,
Sherinias,” Kayos said. “Bane has said no, and so have I. Do not
persist.”

Sherinias hung
her head, fought the urge to continue her plea and made no effort
to hide her disappointment. They were mean. She went to her couch
and flopped onto it, aware that her lower lip protruded. She did
not care. Kayos could command her silence but he could not command
her expression. She did everything he asked of her, but when she
had one small request, he denied it. Bane watched her; she could
sense his intense eyes upon her. She sneaked a peek at him just as
he cast Kayos an exasperated look. Her heart leapt when he
dismissed his Eye and rose to his feet.

He held out his
hand. “Come.”

She jumped up
and took it, beaming at him. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“No flowery
speeches or boot kissing.”

“I
promise.”

Sherinias held
her breath as the light realm vanished in a swirl of darkness, and
the room she had seen in the Eye replaced it. The priestess’
chanting filled the little church with soft, melodic music, and her
heart with gladness. Bane’s hand tightened on hers, and she looked
up at him, puzzled. Clearly they were invisible, since the
priestesses did not react to their appearance. Bane scanned the
room, his eyes becoming intent on something at the back, and she
followed his gaze. A few men stood in the shadows, watching the
women with glinting black eyes.

The Demon Lord
looked down at her. “Light the flame.”

“What is it?”
she asked.

“Demons.”

A qualm made
her shiver, and she did not want to release his hand, her lifeline
in a dangerous world, but he could not be close to the flame when
she lighted it. Gathering her courage, she forced herself to let go
and step towards the altar. The priestesses fell silent with a
collective gasp and gaped at her, and Karillin fell to her knees
with a sob. Sherinias reached the altar and raised her hands. Dark
shapes rushed at her, mud forms shot up from the floor and fiery
fiends blossomed from the candles behind the altar. She froze.

“Begone!” Bane
said.

All the demons
slumped or were snuffed out, but more arose right on top of her.
Gritty, powerful hands gripped her arms in a crushing grip, and she
yelped. Bane dismissed them again, but still more arose, and a fire
demon’s flames engulfed her as it swept her up in burning arms. She
screamed, kicking and flailing, as the demon streaked towards the
back of the church. The priestesses shrieked and fled. A clap
echoed around the church, and the demon that held her vanished in a
rush of flame, dumping her on the floor.

Sherinias sat
up and gazed around at the heaps of soil that had been earth
demons, now lighted by a pure, pearly radiance that drew her eyes
to the altar. The eternal flame danced on its wick, filling the
little church with calm serenity, and Kayos stood beside it. He
strode over to her and offered her his hand, drawing her to her
feet. She smiled up at him a little tremulously. Bane remained
beside the wall, watching them, and Kayos led her over to him.

The Demon Lord
smiled, his eyes full of amusement. “A far simpler solution,
that.”

“Indeed.” Kayos
glanced towards the main door and vanished, and Bane disappeared a
moment later as frightened priestesses crept back into the church,
staring at the white fire with awe stricken eyes. Many wept, fell
to their knees and stretched out their arms in worship, chanting
Sherinias’ name. The young goddess smiled and went to stand beside
the altar, raising her arms. The women fell silent, gazing at
her.

“You are safe
now,” Sherinias said. “No demon can step upon hallowed ground.”

“Thank you,
Lady.” Karillin clasped her hands and smiled, her eyes glimmering.
“We are eternally grateful for the blessed gift of the sacred
flame. Rest assured, we will worship you forever, and tell others
about the miracle of your birth. They will celebrate it, as we do,
and we will take the white fire to all other churches in the land.
Soon many will praise your name every day. We mourn your father,
Lord Pretarin, blessed be his name, may his glory always live in
the light, and the wonders he created flourish.”

“Live in the
light and love all things, children of my first father, and you
will be welcome in the White City when you die.”

Karillin bowed
her head. “We will, Lady of the Light, and we will spread the word
of your coming far and wide. The day the light returned to our
world is one we will revere for all time. You will save us from the
darkness.”