When Angels Fall (Demon Lord) (33 page)

“No. He cannot transport it to the light realm.”

“Then will you tell him to wait for us somewhere, so he no longer follows us? He is spoiling my enjoyment of the day.”

Bane ordered the demon to wait for them at the fairground’s gates, and Sherinias smiled as Eslason marched off.

“How did you summon him without power?”

“I did not. He was already in my employ
. I merely called him.”

The goddess slipped her arm through his. “I am proud to have you as my brother, Bane. I am ashamed that I was frightened of you at first
. Now I love and respect you as I should. Thanks to you, my domain is safe from dark gods, and in time those clever ships will defeat the demons above the wards. I shall miss you very much when you leave.”

Chapter Sixteen

Black Priests

Bane strolled along a corridor towards the lift that accessed the bridge. Two days had passed since the shopping expedition, and the time of departure had arrived at last. He was eager to leave this accursed domain before something else cropped up that required his intervention. Soon, he would have to summon the dark power again, in order to fetch Nomard and Dramon as soon as the realm gate was open and the light realm’s wards deactivated.

Tryne stepped out of the air ahead, and Bane swore under his breath
and sidestepped the angel, who bowed and fell into step.

“Lord…”

“Whatever it is, the answer is no. We are leaving today.”

“I wish to redeem another of my favours.”

“Of course you do. That does not mean I have to grant it.”

“
This will take but a few moments, Lord.”

Bane stopped and faced him, noticing two crewmen staring at him from the end of the corridor, from which he deduced that Tryne was invisible
to them. “I no longer require the aid of angels, Tryne.”

He
nodded. “I am aware of that, Lord. Nevertheless, to deny favours already owed will anger my kind, and we will make our displeasure known to Majelin and Sarmalin. I could also gain a powerful favour if I whispered about you to Ordur.”

“Threats, now?” Bane frowned. “That would incur my anger, and you do not want that.”

The angel tilted his head. “What will you do, Lord?”

“Perhaps I will not help the next angel who requires
my
aid.”

“That would be unfortunate… for him, or her.”

“Indeed.”

“Allow me to tell you of my favour, Lord. It is small.”

Bane sighed. “Fine, although I do not know why you bother to ask for small favours. Why not wait until you have a big one?”

“
It is big, to the one I wish to help.”

“So what is it?”

“An innocent girl has been captured by a cabal of black priests in a town called Darfall, in Lonisia. They intend to sacrifice her, Lord. Freeing her would only take you a moment.”

Bane
considered. The task was a simple one for him, but impossible for anyone else, except perhaps the light gods, but then, they did not owe Tryne favours. It was no surprise to find black priests in a dark domain, and t
hey were even more dangerous than demons in many ways. They would spread their worship, and they lusted for foul entertainment just as demons did
. Doubtless the priests worshipped one of the dark gods he had cast down, and were now free to do as they pleased. Then again, they might not even realise their master had been imprisoned.
Ironically, Tolrar, Jeriss and Scryon had kept a modicum of order, preferring to be the orchestrators of all the evil and disliking trespass upon their rule. In time, the priests would learn of their defeat, and the situation in the mid realm would worsen as a result.

The presence of warlocks was to be expected, too
,
after centuries of dark rule
. He had always despised them. Hunting them down would take too long, but he could order some demons to kill any they found, thereby reducing the population of evil worshippers. Without gods to protect them, the priests would soon renounce their evil ways or die. Getting rid of them would certainly help Sherinias’ people, and she would not have to watch their depravities. He had not considered how easily his power could be used to stamp out dark worship before, but now that he had, it was definitely worthwhile.

“Will you save her, Lord?”
the angel asked.

“You like rescuing
girls, do you not, Tryne?”

“
She has a pure soul, Lord, and she worships the light, although...”

“What?”

“There is something strange about her aura. Perhaps you will be able to divine what it is. I cannot.”

“All right, give me
the name and image of the priest in charge of that cabal.”

Tryne hesitated, his brow wrinkling. “The priest, Lord?”

“Yes. If I am going there, I will do more than just free a girl.”

“I do not know his name, but I can show him to you.”

“That will do.”

The angel bowed his head, an
d Bane placed his hand upon it.

A
tall, balding man in black robes stood before an altar draped with a gold-trimmed crimson cloth, his hands raised as he extolled the advantages of dark worship to a congregation of priests and commoners, who watched him with glinting, rabid eyes. Four hooded priests stood behind their leader, their faces shadowed. Braziers emitted pale smoke and torches threw dancing light on the gloomy scene.

Bane had seen its like before, in the Overworld. The view
was from a high vantage, so Tryne must have been in a Channel when he had watched them. He wondered why the angel had chosen to show him this memory, since there was no sign of the girl he had mentioned.

Bane removed his hand.
“How long ago did you see this?”

“I just came from there, Lord. They are
preparing to sacrifice her. She only prayed for help a few minutes ago, to Lord Pretarin.”

“So, word of
Pretarin’s death and Sherinias’ birth has not reached this… Lonisia.”

Tryne nodded. “Either that, or they d
o not believe it.”

Bane
stepped away from him and summoned the shadows, which, since the corridor was bright, oozed through the walls from the gloom beyond in black strings. It sank into his flesh with its usual revolting chill, and when he had enough, he Moved, striding towards the priest as soon as he rematerialised in the temple aisle, his cloak flaring. The high priest broke off his spiel, his mouth dropping open. The congregation took one look at Bane and fell to its knees as he strode past. The priest retreated as Bane neared him, almost trampling on another who stood behind him, holding a blood cup. Apparently Bane’s scowl was intimidating.

The Demon Lord stopped
several paces away. “Do you know who I am?”

The man’s head jerked from side to side, his eyes riveted to Bane.
“A-a-a-a dark god?”

“I am the Demon Lord. I have cast down your master, whoever he was.”

“Lord Tolrar is -?”

“In the Land of the Dead, yes.”

“Then we will worship you, Lord! We will be your loyal -”

“Silence! I do not want black priests worshipping me.”

The priest gulped. “I-I-I thought…”

“Do not think. You are
clearly ill-suited to it. You intended to sacrifice an innocent, and that offends me, so you can go to Hell.”

Bane raised a hand in a sweeping gesture, unleashing a stream of shadows that hit
the priest in the chest, blackened his skin and consumed him from the inside. He gave a short shriek and tottered, then exploded with a dull thud, splattering his cohorts with blood, excrement and shredded meat. They recoiled with cries of horror, two turning away to vomit. A little gore hit Bane, and he grunted, brushing it off his sleeve.

Stepping away from
the scattered bones, shredded meat, bits of cloth and pool of blood that was all that remained of the high priest, Bane glared at the other four, who had abased themselves.

“How many of you lackwits
are involved in this stupidity?” he demanded.

“None
of us, Lord, I swear,” a skinny man quavered, his voice muffled by his worshipful stance. “We-we-we-we-we only obeyed Gorton, who said Lord Tolrar demanded sacrifices.”

All
dark gods wanted sacrifices, but Bane knew the man was lying to save himself. They had undoubtedly been doing it regularly, and they were all in on it. “Gorton was your high priest?”

“
Yes, Lord.” The man’s voice cracked. “P-please don’t kill us! We didn’t want to do it, I swear!”

“You swear too much. I am displeased
. With all of you!” Bane swung to glower at the quaking congregation. “You deserve the same fate as him!” He pointed at the mangled mess.

“We beg for mercy!”
the priest wailed.

“Mercy?” Bane stepped closer to the trembling
man. “You think
I
am capable of
mercy
? How stupid are you, precisely?”

“We beg you to spare us!”

“You are cretins! I should kill you all. I am tired of dealing with dimwits. You will disband! Return to your homes and families, if you have them. If you disobey, I will send demons to slay you.”

The priest
sagged with a sob. “Thank you, Lord.”

Bane repress
ed the dark power’s urging to kill them all. “Do you have a name?”

“
I am Ortane, Lord.” He raised his head.

“
Has the girl you kidnapped been prepared for sacrifice?”

“No, no, no, not yet, Lord, I swear.”

“Stop bloody swearing. Where is she?”

“In the dungeon.”

Bane glared at Ortane, who cringed. “Take me to her, you idiot.”

The priest led the way out of a side door and down a flight of stairs into a dungeon where
prisoners were kept before sacrifice and unruly acolytes probably spent a few days on a diet of oxblood and frogs. Two rows of cells flanked a broad aisle, and Ortane went to the closest, took a ring of keys from a hook on the wall and unlocked the door, opening it. Inside, a wretch in torn, dirty clothes huddled in a corner, stringy brown hair hanging from a bowed head. Bane approached the prisoner, who raised her head to stare at him with wide, frightened hazel eyes, her chin wobbling.

Bane glanced at Ortane. “Get out.”

He fled, and Bane went to the stone bench at the back of the cell and sank down on it, regarding the shaking girl.

“I am not going to harm you.”

Her eyes darted to the open door. “They said they were going to cut out my heart.”

“They are a bunch of cretins.”

“Who are you?”

“I am…” Bane shook his head. He was tired of introducing himself and having people’s fear redouble at the import of his name and title. “It does not matter. I will return you to your home. Where do you dwell?”

She studied him. “You’re him, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “Probably. What ‘him’ do you mean?”

“The cretins’ master.”

“Ah.
I suppose you could say that, yes.”

“Then why do you say you’re going to let me go?” she asked.

“Because I am.”

“You’re the reason I was brought here!”

“No. I did not order a sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice?” Her fa
ce twisted. “You’re that… that…”

“Yes, I know.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You do not need to. I will take you home.” Bane held out his hand. “Come.”

She shied away. “How do I know you’re not going to take me to be killed?”

H
e lowered his hand. “Sacrifices are washed, drugged and dressed in a sacrificial robe before they are taken to the altar. Or sometimes they are sacrificed naked. None of those things have been done to you, have they?”

“No… but that doesn’t mean you won’t.”

“True, but if you want to go home, you will have to take my hand. Or you could walk, if you prefer. They will not stop you now.”

She shifted,
drawing her feet under her as if preparing to bolt. “Are you powerful?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Does it matter? Perhaps I’m just curious.”

Bane inclined his head. “I am.”

“Then… will you help me?”

“I doubt it. With what?”

“My brother.” She brushed aside her hair to reveal a bruised face that would have been pretty if not for a swollen nose and puffy eye. “He’s a black mage’s servant. I want to free him.”

“Of course you do.” He
cocked his head, curious. “You believe in magic?”

She nodded. “And gods. I know you’re one.”

“How do you know that?”

“Your cretins told me.”

He smiled. “Actually, they were referring to Tolrar, their previous master. Most people in this world do not believe gods exist. They think I am a destroyer, although the difference escapes me.”

“Dra’voren are powerful, evil monsters.”

“Actually, they are powerful, evil gods.”

“Is that what you are?” she asked.

“A god, yes… evil… not so much. How is it that you believe in gods?”

“Religion isn’t entirely dead in this world. I belong to a church that worships Lord Pretarin.”

“Ah. Unfortunately, he is dead.”

She frowned. “How do you know that?”