When Angels Fall (Demon Lord) (16 page)

“How?”

“He wants to be found, or he would not have
changed time. He could have kept us trapped in the past forever.” He looked up. “All we need to do is follow the light.”

Bane
set off, and Majelin followed. Patches of dull grey diamond sand shimmered, and a few of the blasted stumps had a silvery sheen. Bane left a trail of glowing footprints, fresh smoke arising at every step. The reaction of the land to him was similar to that of hallowed ground.

“How do you know this place is cursed?” Majelin asked.

“The smoke. The dark power protects me, hence the glowing footprints.”

“But when you had no power…”

“We were in the past,” Bane said, “when there were no curses.”

“
Why would a light god change time?”

“I have no idea.”

“Could it protect him from a dark god?”

“No.”
Bane glanced at the angel. “Why do the curses have no effect on you?”

“I am an angel.”

“So you are immune?”

“In a manner of speaking. You could say that I belong to another phase of reality.”

“These are dark curses. They affect mortals and creatures of the light. You are one such, are you not?”

“Of a sort,” Majelin
agreed. “It is the same gift that allows us to use the Channels. Angels are neither mortal nor powerful. Reality, as you know it, barely perceives us. We are like a drop of water in an ocean: inconsequential.”

Bane grunted. “I do not think
a dark god destroyed this world.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because its owner still lives. No dark god would trap himself in a place like this unless he could not escape, and one such could easily kill this place’s ruler.”

“What else could it be?”

“I have no idea. Something capable of destroying a domain, but not killing a god, I would guess. Something he does not want to escape.”

Kayos frowned at the image in the Eye. “I know where they are.”

Drevarin glanced at him. “Did you not already?”

“Yes
, but now I know more.” The Grey God rubbed his brow. “They were in a dreaming, and they have just been released from it, which means Carthius woke up. For him to dream whilst in his own domain, he must be within his shield sphere or trapped with duron. Whatever caused him to seal that world must be truly horrific.”

“Perhaps a dark god rose from the underworld?”

“It is possible, but if so, surely he would have revealed his presence by now. He would have sensed Bane’s use of the shadows. Clearly the darkness has all but destroyed Arvandeth, and if Carthius has been trapped since he sealed it, or shortly thereafter, he will be weak. If Bane frees him, he will die, and his death will kill Bane. But he will long for an end to his suffering.”

“You think he would kill a tar’merin?”

Kayos shook his head. “Not intentionally, but Bane may not realise what will happen if he frees Carthius.”

“But if Bane shields himself…”

“He cannot create shields strong enough to protect himself from the amount of white power Carthius will release upon his demise. He is mortal.”

Sherinias said, “You must save him, Father.”

“That will be difficult, child.”

“But there is a way,” Drevarin said.

“Yes.”

“He has survived the white fire before,” Mirra murmured.

Kayos shook his head. “The touch of an eternal flame or a lesser child god does not compare to a light god’s demise. Majelin should warn him, but he may not. I do not trust him. He has suffered too long at the hands of a dark god. If he thinks he will be trapped there forever unless he sacrifices Bane to free himself and Carthius, he might choose to let Bane die. He does not know what I will do to save my son.”

“What will you do?”
Drevarin asked.

“What I must.”

“I suspect it will involve a great deal of power.”

“Indeed
,” Kayos said.

“A summoning?”

“Yes.”

Drevarin shot Sherinias an alarmed look. “You need an Oracle for that.”

“Yes.”

“But Sherinias…” Drevarin met Kayos’ eyes.

“Let us not discuss it now.”

Sherinias glanced from one to the other, her
eyes wide. “What is it, Father?”

“Do not concern yourself, child. All will be well.”

“Perhaps Carthius is within his shield sphere,” Drevarin suggested.

“Let us hope so.”

Chapter
Eight

Spirit Dream

Dramon nudged his brother and pointed at a bulky man seated at a table, two droge women fawning on him. “How about him?”

Nomard nodded. “Perfect.”

Dramon led the way through the dim, smoky nightclub, the thudding beat of the monotonous music underscoring the deep drone of voices. Oiled, almost naked women entertained drunk or drugged men, flashing lights made the atmosphere garish, and beady-eyed dealers plied a roaring trade in the latest designer drugs. This was Dramon’s sort of place, and he and his brother had already sampled most of it wares. The drugs, drink and droges were becoming a bit boring, however. It was time to make life a lot more interesting.

The man, a greater fire demon, eyed Dramon as he approached, his ink-black eyes flicking to Nomard. The demon wore a scarlet suit sprinkled with glitter, a gold nose ring and so many neck chains he could barely turn his head. Dramon pulled out a chair with a screech and flopped onto it, and Nomard took the one beside it. The furniture creaked, but held, despite their immense weight.

The fire demon scowled. “Bugger off.”

“Make us,” Nomard said.

The demon shoved the droges away and jumped up, but Dramon raised a finger and wagged it. “Nah, uh. Sit. We only want to talk.”

“I don’t want to listen.”

“Too bad. Sit down. You’ll find it interesting.”

The demon sank back onto his chair, and the droges pouted and flounced off. “What?”

Nomard leant forward. “You lot are about to be dropped in a world of shit, old boy.”

“What sort?”

“The human sort.”

“They’re a pansy bunch. They don’t even know about us.”

“They do now,” Dramon said.

“You told them.”

“Indeed we did, old bean. Only fair, what? It’s a tad boring around here.”

The demon shrugged. “So what? They don’t know anything.”

“Oh, I beg to differ. They do now.”

“What can they do?”

Dramon flagged down a passing waiter and ordered two ales, then said, “Well, before they met us, not much, but we told them a thing or two.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, you know; how to exorcise your smelly arses.”

The demon snorted. “A mere inconvenience.”

“True. That’s why we also told them about the white fire.”

The fire demon glowered. “That won’t get rid of us either. Not for long. You know that.”

“We do, old son, but it’s sure going to make your lives unpleasant.”

Nomard chortled. “There are a lot of humans in this world.”

“And a lot of demons,” Dramon added. “So, they’re going to snuff you lot out, and you’re going to kill them. All hell is going to break loose. It should be fun.”

The demon quaffed his ale. “Then we’ll wipe them out.”

“Ah, but your new lord and master is going to ward this world. You’ll be trapped in the mid realm, with no humans to play with. Boring!”

“He’s not our lord and master.”

“Oh no? So he can’t summon you and make you do whatever he wants?”

“Until he does, he’s not our master. And why would he ward this world?”

“Because he’s a damned tar’merin.”

“No way.” The demon’s scowl blackened.

“Way, old boy.”

“
Then we’ll kill him.”

Dramon threw back his head and guffawed. Nomard slapped his knee and hooted. Dramon controlled his hilarity as the waiter returned with their ales, then chugged down half of his, banged the tankard on the table and grinned at the fire demon.

“An excellent plan, old chap! Top marks to you. You got a name?”

The demon’s eyes darted between them. “Erthalason.”

“Ugh, what a mouthful. We’ll just call you Erth. So, Erth, you think you and your backward brethren can kill a dark god, eh?”

“He’s mortal.”

“That’s true.” Dramon nodded at Nomard, who grinned. “He’s right.”

“So what’s so funny?” Erthalason demanded.

“He’s in the light realm, you moron.”

“He’ll come down when we start killing humans.”

“You reckon? I reckon you’re wrong. He doesn’t give a flying fart about humans.”

“But the little goddess does.”

“And he doesn’t give a flying fart about her likes or dislikes, either.”

“He does if he’s tar’merin.”

“Wrong,” Nomard said. “But I’ll tell you what he does give a damn about, and that’s his little human family. I bet you know where they are, and if you don’t, I bet you and your bone-headed brethren can find them.”

Erthalason nodded. “Of course we can.”

“Such confidence.” Dramon chuckled and quaffed his ale. “He’s hidden them, old bean.”

“Then we’ll find a warded place.”

“Full of humans. How will you know which ones are his family?”

Erthalason shrugged. “We’ll just kill them all.”

“Ah, he’s good,” Dramon remarked to Nomard, who nodded and said, “He’s going to start a war with a dark god. Brilliant! They’ll all be dismissed like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Erthalason scowled. “So you have a better plan?”

“We sure do, but will you listen?”

“I’m listening.”

Nomard leant forward. “First, you find out who the hell they are; you don’t go charging in there slaughtering everyone. Then, you grab them and take them below, but keep them alive. Take them to a warded chamber, if you have one; if not, you lie in ambush, got it? A spear through the guts will kill that bastard, and bingo, you win.”

“Try to make it a few dozen spears,” Dramon added.

Erthalason nodded. “We can do that.” His brow furrowed. “How do we find out who they are?”

Nomard shrugged. “Ask the humans, and if they don’t know, search for a hidden dwelling. It’ll be well warded, but if there are enough of you, you should find it. How many can you muster?”

“A lot. Hundreds.”

“Excellent. Good for you.” Dramon flicked his fingers. “Off you go then;
bugger off.”

The demon rose and left, taking his ale with him.

Dramon turned to Nomard. “You think they’ll go for it?”

“Not a chance. Even they’re not that stupid.”

“Pity. It sounded like such a plausible plan.” Dramon gulped his brew and banged his tankard down.

“That was the idea.”

“He’s a pretty good liar.”

“Yeah, but they know we are, too.”

“Demons are boring.”

Nomard shrugged. “He definitely bought the bit about the humans ganging up on demons.”

“Well, that was true.”

“Bane’s going to be pissed off if he finds out we started the shit around here.”

“How will he find out?”

“Erth?”

Dramon made a rude noise. “His word against ours, old boy. Don’t you know demons lie? And we’re his pals. Nah, Erth and his cronies are going to get their bums handed to them, and there’s going to be a lot of fun in this place, really soon. Look.” He motioned with his tankard to Erth, who was deep in conversation with five other men, all demons. “Already he’s spreading the word.”

Nomard nodded. “I still don’t think it’s enough. What if they ignore us? They don’t want to be discovered, and, after what we told them, they’ll want to hide what they really are even more.”

“You have a point. Maybe we should start the shit ourselves.”

“Bane will blame us.”

“He will anyway. What’s he going to do about it? Leave us here? I don’t think so, and I reckon he’s going to try to get rid of us as soon as he can, anyway. Wouldn’t you?” Dramon asked.

“Definitely.”

“We could still blame it on someone else.”

“Who?”

“Them.” Dramon waved his tankard at the three demon hounds that sat in the shadows nearby. They went unnoticed in the gloom, only their yellow eyes glowing. Human and droge patrons gave the spot a wide berth, without knowing why, Dramon suspected. It just got super cold and their stomachs churned when they went close to the dark corner where the beasts sat. Since most were drugged or drunk, no one had become alarmed, yet.

Nomard grinned and slurped his ale. “I think you’re onto something. There are plenty of hellhounds in this world, and no way to prove the ones that started the shit were ours.”

“Exactly.”

Nomard caught the attention of one of the hounds and inclined his head towards the group of demons. The beast rose and slinked towards the men, the other two following. As they moved out of the shadows, the bright lights illuminated their lupine forms, and the girls on the stage screamed and
ran. Patrons gaped at the demonic beasts, and many shouted and stampeded for the doors. A few, too intoxicated to think clearly, tried to kick the hounds and yelled at them, as if they were mere stray dogs.

The demons in the target group noted the hounds’ approach, and several shot the demon gods furious
scowls. The hellhounds charged into their midst and tore off chunks of soil or fiery shreds as the demons’ disguises failed under the attack. More human patrons shrieked and shouted as the demons fought back, clubbing the hounds or lashing them with blazing eyes. They had no hope of protecting themselves whilst maintaining their disguises, and within moments they slumped into piles of soil or vanished in flares of fire. The hounds turned their attention to the humans and droges, who fled, screaming.

“Hey! Spot!” Dramon called. “Enough!”

One of the hounds paused, glaring at the demon god, then sat down, its glowing mouth open in a panting grin.

“
Dunce! Runt! Let them go,” Nomard ordered.

The other two hellhounds snarled, and one ran down a patron and tore him apart, but the other slinked back to the first hound and sat beside it, licking its chops. The last hellhound continued to tear the man to shreds while the rest of the patrons escaped.

Nomard raised his tankard and clashed it with Dramon’s. “That should do the trick.”

“A pity we had to leave witnesses.”

“The humans have their spying devices in here, too.”

“True.”

“Bad dog, Dunce,” Nomard reprimanded the hellhound that still worried the corpse.

Dramon chortled.

Bane surveyed the snowy landscape ahead, the border between it and the blackened land only a few feet wide, as if some invisible barrier kept it within its own sphere. The line stretched into the distance on either side, curving away. The angel started forward, but Bane went over to a boulder and sat down, rubbing his legs.

Majelin returned. “Why do you stop?”

Bane eyed him. “Let me guess: angels are indefatigable.”

“Not quite, but evidently we have more stamina than mortal gods.”

“We have been walking for three days. I require sleep, and food, and I would rather rest where it is not freezing cold.” Bane summoned a cup of ambrosia and sipped it.

Majelin sat down cross-legged, gazing into the snowy land. “The life increases as we near the light god. Here there is not even water, but there, there is.”

“Frozen stuff.”

“But water nonetheless. It is possible some creatures of the light survive within the light god’s proximity.”

“Light creatures need water?”

The archangel snorted. “No.”

“Then why is it important that there is water there?”

“It is just one of the life-giving elements; it indicates the presence of light.”

Bane looked up at the weird, streaming sky. “There is plenty of light above us.”

Majelin followed his gaze. “Not as much as you would think. Not enough.”

Bane lowered his gaze to the angel. “What do you think we will find?”

“I know not. But I think it will be horrifying.”

Bane assuaged his hunger and thirst, waved a black cloud couch into being and lay down. He needed to sleep. The land seemed to leech the life out of him, replacing his energy with sorrow. He sensed it all around him. Everything was steeped in it, as if the very domain wept for its god, and it was increasing as they drew closer to the light’s destination. He did not want to think about what awaited him at the end of this journey, but did not doubt that Majelin was right.

Mirra sat on her bunk, her heart leaden, her throat tight and her eyes stinging. She would not cry. She must be strong and positive. Bane would return. He always did. She missed him more than ever, as if every time they were apart the wound in her heart grew deeper, and festered. If anything, the few days of happiness they had shared recently made
it worse. She had tried to scry him, but her glass had remained clear.

Part of her wanted to ask
him to take her home, but she could not let Ashynaria continue to suffer, perhaps die. When the archangel had begged for his aid, Mirra had been torn. She had wanted to tell him she did not want him to go, but she could not bring herself to deny an angel aid. That was way it would always be, she now knew. She would always let him go, despite her fears, and pain at his absence. What he did was too important, and how could any of them have known that a quick trip to the underworld to rescue an angel would turn into such a disaster? She almost wished she was a prophetess.