Demon Lord

Demon Lord

T C Southwell

Published by T C Southwell at
Smashwords

Copyright © 2010 T C
Southwell

Smashwords Edition, License
Notes

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This book is dedicated to my
mother.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter
One
– Daughter of
Light

Chapter
Two
– Son of
Darkness

Chapter
Three
– The First
Ward

Chapter
Four
– Fire Demon

Chapter
Five
– Earth Demon

Chapter
Six
– Water Demon

Chapter
Seven
– The Isle of
Lume

Chapter
Eight
– The Third
Ward

Chapter
Nine
– Air Demon

Chapter
Ten
– The Fourth
Ward

Chapter
Eleven
– The City

Chapter
Twelve
– The Old
Kingdom

Chapter
Thirteen
–
Revelation

Chapter
Fourteen
– Sacrifice

Chapter
Fifteen
– Betrayal

Chapter
Sixteen
– The Sixth
Ward

Chapter
Seventeen
– The Seventh
Ward

Chapter
Eighteen
– Ascension of the
Black Lord

Prologue

The seeress gripped the edge of
the glass, her knuckles whitening as her brows drew together over
eyes that filled with horror. The acolyte who watched over Elder
Mother while she was absorbed in her scrying hurried to her side,
frightened by her rigid stance and the pallor that washed the
colour from her cheeks.

"What is it, Mother?" she
whispered, gripping the seeress' shoulder.

Ellese sat unmoving, her gaze
locked on the faraway event visible only to her within the glass.
The acolyte glanced at the clear round glass in its simple silver
frame, which, for her, held nothing but the bookshelves beyond. She
waited, unwilling to disturb Elder Mother's intense concentration.
The seeress lowered her hands and drew a deep, shuddering breath,
blinking.

"The Black Lord!" Her voice
rasped with dread, and her eyes remained glazed. "The evil has
finally found a way to enter this world; to break the wards that
the ancient wizards set."

The girl stared at the seeress
with undisguised terror, her hands bunched in her robe, wringing
it. "How?"

"A boy child, born below. He
will be sent."

"When will he come?"

Ellese's eyes regained their
focus. "Not for a time yet. He still has to grow; to be taught the
evil powers and their use. Twenty years, if we are fortunate. Time
to prepare ourselves, at least." The acolyte sagged with relief,
and Elder Mother said, "Do not look so happy, child, you will still
be here." She stood up. "Send a message to all the Elder Mothers.
We must have a meeting; we must plan our defence."

The acolyte nodded and hurried
out, lifting the flowing skirts of her white healer's robe so they
did not hamper her. Ellese crossed her study to stare out of the
window, her eyes blind to the midwinter snow that covered the
garden in a thick blanket. Gusts eddied falling flakes into
swirling patterns, brushing against the windows, sliding down to
gather on the ledge. She shivered, but not with cold, for the fire
that roared in the hearth warmed the cosy book-lined room with its
wooden panelling and thick, woollen maroon curtains.

Her desk occupied the corner
opposite the stone fireplace. The glass stood innocuously on it,
clear now. Tidily arranged papers filled the desk's corners, and an
ink well and writing plumes stood at its centre. The cold light
from the windows mingled with the fire's warm glow to illuminate
the myriad ancient tomes that filled the bookshelves. The room's
cosy normality vanished as she recalled the horrible vision she had
just witnessed.

Within the deep, gloomy caverns
of the Underworld, a boy child had been born. Magic had formed the
great cavern in which the event had taken place eons ago, the rock
twisted and warped by the will of the god who had created it. Huge
columns of solidified magma upheld the vaulted ceiling of
stretched, striated rock, cooled in the midst of its oozing,
patterned with smears and blobs. The inner fire shone from cracks
in the walls and floor, throwing lurid light in twisted patterns.
Fire demons in true form cast sickly green and orange light.

The demons' chanting had all but
drowned out the woman's screams as she died on the stone altar, her
belly torn open as the Black Lord ripped the baby from her womb.
The boy's cries had stopped when the Black Lord inscribed a dark
rune upon his head, and his eyes had glazed under the evil power.
The Lord of the Underworld had handed the bloody infant to a
minion, who wrapped him in a cloth. By then, the child's mother was
dead, her blood pooled on the floor.

The infant stood no chance
against the Underworld's corruption. He would be warped, moulded as
the Black Lord wished, and none could save him from his fate.
Ellese's heart twisted with pity when she recalled the tiny child,
slick with his mother's blood. He was an innocent babe, doomed to
be a helpless pawn in the Black Lord's hands. She had no doubt that
he would suffer terribly in the Underworld, but far worse than his
horrific birth had been the ritual the Black Lord had performed
before he had torn the infant from his mother's womb.

A month later, the abbey's hall
filled with old women; elder mothers gathered from the various
abbeys all over the land. The pillar-lined, grey stone room had
been built as a dining hall, but doubled as a meeting place for the
Council of Elders. Sturdy tables and chairs cluttered its polished
stone floor, and stained-glass windows allowed streams of sunlight
in to brighten it. The tables had been pushed against the walls,
and the chairs were arranged into rows where the old ladies sat,
facing a polished bur-wood desk.

Acolytes and lesser healers
stood near the tables, armed with kettles of brewing tea, buttered
scones and pastries. Others dashed in and out with more boiling
water or fresh pastries, steaming hot from the kitchen ovens. An
air of aged wisdom hung over the multitude of elder mothers. Their
eyes were faded and their bodies frail, but they were still sharp
of mind and tongue.

The seeress Ellese sat behind
the desk and studied the sea of wrinkled faces. It bobbed and
weaved like an ocean, accompanied by sniffles, hacking coughs and
wheezing breaths as the old women aired their infirmities,
illnesses associated with age, which no healing could cure. Young
acolytes plied them with cups of milk or tea, balancing trays of
pastries as they wound amidst the throng, summoned by snapping
fingers and stopped by imperiously outstretched hands. The elder
mothers muttered in a low-pitched hum, some discussing the topic on
hand, others doubtless just swapping gossip. Ellese sighed and
rapped on the desk, drawing all eyes to her, some of which wandered
past without pause. The majority of her audience were stern-faced
matrons, but a few were truly ancient.

"You know why we are here," she
said. "You all know what has happened. I ask you today for your
thoughts. What are we going to do about it?" Ellese spoke loudly,
for many old ladies held brass trumpets to their ears and leant
forward with peevish frowns. She scanned the throng.

A robust, middle-aged woman
called, "Rescue the child."

Ellese's lips curved in a bitter
smile. "Easier said than done, Merris, considering that he is in
the Underworld. Are you volunteering?"

A murmur swept the room, mixed
with a few titters. Merris glowered at her grinning neighbour, and
many elder mothers muttered to their friends behind withered hands.
A wizened crone stood, leaning on a gnarled stick.

"Find a way to bind him when he
emerges," she quavered.

Ellese nodded. "A good idea, but
what?"

"There must be something." She
glanced around. "What is his nature? There must be something that
will work."

"He is a human child. The Black
Lord cannot break the wards. He is trapped in the Underworld, along
with all his foul servants." Ellese fixed the woman with steely
grey eyes. "This boy will travel freely to the Overworld, and he
will be able to break the wards. The demons will raise him; teach
him their ways and prepare him for the day when he will spread his
evil over the land and raise armies to lay waste to those who do
not bow to him."

The old woman frowned. "He is
not possessed?"

Ellese shook her head. "He is
worse. They will fill him with their evil power and corrupt his
mind with their teachings, yet the power of the wards will not stop
him, for he is human."

Another elder mother stood up.
"Then he will only be a black mage. What of preparing an army to
capture him when he emerges?"

Ellese looked down at the desk,
her heart heavy with despair. All the more obvious suggestions
would be worthless, and she hated to reject each as it was spoken.
"He will wield the power of the Black Lord. No man will be able to
stand against him. The foul creatures of the night will worship him
and the dark races with follow him. The boy will be invincible by
any normal means. When he rises, he will not be a mere black mage."
She paused, her hands curling into fists. "He has been born a
god."

A hubbub started as the women
objected to this sweeping statement, turning to each other for
support. A plump, florid-faced woman shouted, "Why call us here,
and ask for our help, when there is no solution to this
threat?"

Ellese banged on the desk again,
subduing the uproar a little. "There is a solution. There has to
be, but perhaps we are not capable of thinking of it. I had hoped
one of you had been given a vision or dream, some sign from the
Lady to guide us."

Silence fell as wrinkled brows
furrowed, searching their memories for such a dream, and ancient
eyes narrowed and glanced at neighbours. Ellese scanned the
assembly with growing desperation. For the last month, she had
racked her brains for a solution. Surely one of these wise women
knew the answer to this threat? Surely the Lady had given someone a
sign, or a vision? The goddess would not abandon them in their hour
of need.

A tall, angular woman at the
back of the assembly stood, glancing around shyly as all eyes
turned to her. A handsome healer with honey-blonde hair, she was
the youngest elder mother there, barely out of her twenties. She
looked out of place amongst so many grey-heads, and fiddled
nervously with her silver healer's necklace.