Demon Lord V - God Realm (3 page)

No darkness
shall pass.

Kayos waved
the Eye out of existence and looked down at the trail at his feet.
Finding Bane was more urgent now. He was in a dark place, where
there would be dangers the band of scruffy humans could not hope to
defeat for long. He was not certain exactly what affect the
shackles would have on Bane, apart from preventing the use of his
power, but that was bad enough. Bane was unusual not only in his
mortality, but also in his upbringing. Pain and betrayal had
tempered him, then love had saved him. He knew what it was to be
powerless, but never when he had needed it to protect himself.

Turning away
from the trap, Kayos told Mirra and Mithran what he had seen in the
Eye. They slumped with relief, and Mithran patted Mirra's shoulder
with an encouraging smile. His assurance did not appear to hearten
her much, and Kayos suspected that he was equally perturbed, but
hid it better.

"What will you
do?" she asked.

"Follow him.
It is the only way to find him in the God Realm, but it will not be
easy. The people he is with are moving, which makes it worse."

Kayos chose a
spot far enough from the trap so he did not trigger it, and began a
Shaping. Taking hold of the God Realm's substance, he moulded and
bent it to his will, making it flow like water in his mind. Kayos
had dreamt many domains into being, and what he did now was
similar, except he was awake, and he lacked the power source of a
Realm Seed. A Shaping took vast amounts of power, and it flowed
from him in rivers of shining rainbow light. His use of it made him
a beacon far brighter than any other in the God Realm, and many
would be drawn to him.

The ground
oozed open, as if parted by a giant hand, to form a tunnel that
angled downwards, filled with pearly light. He stepped into it, and
the little group followed aboard the steeds. It parted before him
and closed behind. Within the glowing pocket, he descended swiftly,
wishing not only to find Bane, but also to leave his foes
behind.

Bane glanced
at Ethra, puzzled. When he had sensed the Eye, he could have sworn
that she had glanced in its direction as well, although she might
have been following his gaze. Now that they were on the move, the
group was a lot edgier, peering into the darkness and jumping at
shadows. From this, he deduced that they were usually attacked
while travelling, when their light was less without the big fire
they built when they camped. He sharpened his sight to look into
the gloom, which appeared to be empty for the moment. They passed
many crumbling bones, some huge and alien.

The darkness
twitched and the world spun. Bane staggered sideways, collided with
the burly man and sent him sprawling with a curse. The group
stopped, and four crossbows swung to point at Bane, who continued
to stagger. He tripped over the brawny man's legs and fell to his
knees. The sensation of spinning stopped, but the giddiness
remained, and he clasped his pounding temples. The dark power
within him surged, and the bands on his wrists glowed. Artan strode
over to him, his crossbow ready.

"What is
it?"

Bane shook his
head, needles of pain lancing his brain. "I do not know. Something
changed. Everything moved. We are no longer going in the same
direction."

Artan glanced
around. "Nothing has changed."

"It has. We
were going that way before." Bane pointed to the right.

"And how do
you know this?"

"I just
do."

Artan snorted.
"Are you a seer, too?"

"No. But I
sensed it."

Artan looked
at Ethra, who shook her head. "I sensed nothing. He's lying."

"Why would I
lie?" Bane demanded.

"Perhaps you
wish us to go in circles," Artan said.

"Why would I
want that?"

"Who knows?
Get up, we must continue."

Bane rose to
his feet. "This is a trap. We are being made to go in circles while
the creatures of darkness feed. You will never escape it unless you
let me guide you."

Artan snorted,
glancing back down the trail. "Look at our tracks, they don't
turn."

Bane followed
his gaze and nodded. "Yes, I have seen this before. The track goes
straight, but the world turns."

"Madness,"
Ethra said. "He seeks to mislead us."

The Demon Lord
swung around as a high-pitched thrumming vibrated the air, his eyes
scanning the darkness. "Something comes."

Artan glanced
at Ethra, and this time she nodded, the colour draining from her
face. "They come!"

The soldiers
turned and aimed their weapons at the shivering darkness, and Bane
peered into the gloom. The shadows came alive, disgorging darker
shapes that defied description. Hatchet shaped, eyeless heads with
flat, gleaming beaks topped sinuous necks. Dark power mantled their
bulky bodies, clinging to them like ragged cloaks and veiling thin,
winged arms tipped with sharp curved claws. Powerful hind legs
propelled them along at a bouncing run, and long tails balanced
them.

Bane barely
had time to glimpse their weird shapes before they entered the
light in a rush. Crossbows twanged, and bolts sprouted from the
chests of two of the creatures, who hardly seemed to notice them.
The soldiers dropped the spent bows and drew their swords as the
creatures reached them. The torch-bearers lowered their fiery
staffs and thrust them at the beasts. The dark creatures avoided
the light and rushed the centre of the group.

The
priestesses shrieked and cowered, covering the girl child with
their arms as the pocket of light became a maelstrom of blurred
movement and screams, blood spraying in bright spurts. One of the
torch-bearers went down, his torch scattering sparks as it hit the
ground. A blur of dark grey movement came at Bane from the side,
and he spun, throwing himself out of way. The creature flashed past
and veered towards one of the soldiers, then Bane leapt aside again
as another rushed at him. He collided with something solid and went
sprawling, rolling in the dust as a huge mottled grey shape loomed
over him, its hatchet head stabbing towards his face. His hands
flashed up and gripped its neck, and he unleashed the dark
power.

The bands on
his wrists flared to brilliant white luminescence, and he cried out
as incredible agony shot through him. The creature in his grasp
burst into flames and collapsed on top of him, thrashing. He tried
to thrust it away, but the blinding agony had robbed him of his
strength, and it continued to sear through him, making him writhe
and groan.

The burning
beast was pulled off him, and Artan stood over him, a bloody sword
dangling from one fist. He stared at the incandescent shackles, his
expression one of shocked disbelief. Bane rolled onto his side,
struggling to free himself of the cuffs. The dark power hammered at
his flesh, burnt his blood and crisped his bones, hating the white
power in the shackles that held it trapped. A nimbus of blue
surrounded the cuffs, and the light from them was blinding.

"Take them
off!" Bane shouted, holding his hands towards Artan. "Take them off
now!"

Artan
hesitated, then dropped his sword and reached for the shackles, his
fingers finding the pin that held them in place. He tugged at it,
grimacing and squinting against the blinding light, but it would
not move. "I can't! It's stuck!"

"Take them
off!" Bane yelled, writhing as the dark power surged through him.
"It is killing me!"

"I can't!"
Artan bellowed, his expression desperate. "Whatever you did, undo
it!"

Bane arched
his back as he fought the pain, certain that his flesh was on fire.
He twisted and pulled at the cuffs in a frenzy. The metal bent and
stretched under the strain of his massive strength, which had
returned with his panic, but snapped back unharmed. The thin bands
cut into his wrists, adding to the pain of his burning flesh, and
he cried out, writhing. The dark power he had unleashed sought
release, but it could not escape, so it consumed him.

Hot tears
trickled down his cheeks, and he forced himself to think in spite
of the pain. If the power could not escape, he must leash it again,
something he had never attempted before. Usually the power ran
through him, and more from the shadows replaced that which he
unleashed, but now he had to force the same power into quiescence
again. He was dimly aware of people shouting nearby, possibly at
him, but he could not make out the words through the roaring in his
ears.

Bane took hold
of the power in his flesh and rammed it back into his bones,
forcing it to submit to his will even though it fought against him
more strongly than ever before. It longed to destroy the shackles,
and although he shared its wish, he was now convinced that the
shackles were indestructible. Leashing the power took every ounce
of his will. Once released it had a purpose, to kill his enemy, but
since it could not do that, it turned on him.

It seemed like
many hours later that the pain diminished enough for Bane to become
aware of his surroundings again. When he opened his eyes, the
shackles shone with soft rainbow light, and Artan squatted beside
him, watching him. Bane continued to leash the power, which became
easier as more and more of it was stored once more. The shackles
dimmed as he forced the power back into his bones, and the agony
faded.

Artan leant
forward. "What happened?"

Bane held out
his wrists. "You must take these off."

"I tried. It
won't open anymore."

"Try
again!"

Artan took
hold of the shackles and tugged at the pin, but it would not move.
"It won't release."

Bane groaned
as the last dregs of dark power seeped from his flesh, which
throbbed in the agony's aftermath. For several more minutes he lay
on his back, his eyes closed, gasping dry air into his burning
lungs. He was aware of the group standing around him, staring down
at him, then Artan growled an order at them, and they drifted away
to make camp. When Bane opened his eyes and sat up, Artan still sat
beside him, watching him with a concerned expression. Ignoring the
warrior, he lifted his wrists to study the cuffs.

The metal had
stopped glowing, and, as he turned the gleaming bands, the
torchlight caught bright lines within the metal. It could have been
some arcane script, but the lines seemed disjointed, and he could
not read the words. He frowned at them, summoning the god power
with which he had been born. He used it to change materials, and
the cuffs were metal, albeit a kind he had not seen before. If he
could turn them into a base metal, he would be able to break
them.

The metal
began to glow again softly, then it seemed to flow around the bands
like quicksilver, seeking to evade his will. He concentrated
harder, and the flow increased its speed until the bands appeared
to be spinning, but the metal remained unchanged. Bane gave up and
raised his eyes to meet Artan's, who gaped at him. The warrior
closed his mouth and looked away, and Bane surveyed the camp.

By the fire,
the carcasses of two creatures of darkness lay butchered, their
flesh so dark it was almost brown. The group sat around the fire
cooking chunks of meat on the ends of sticks, casting furtive
glances in his direction. No one appeared to be missing, but one of
the priestesses had blood on her robes, a soldier nursed a bandaged
arm, and the burly man had four deep scratches across his
cheek.

Bane looked at
Artan, who had a nasty cut on his neck, and the warrior lowered his
gaze to his hands. "No one was taken this time, thanks to you. That
light chased the beasts away, and killed two of them."

"Do not expect
me to do it again."

"No, of course
not. Do you know what happened?"

Bane nodded.
"These shackles were designed to imprison a dark god or black mage.
I cannot use my magic while I wear them, and if I try, it causes me
great pain. It almost killed me."

"I didn't
know." Artan glanced at him. "That beast was burning on top of you,
yet you're unscathed. Are you only a mage?"

Bane raised
his hands and examined them. "The dark power protects me. What else
could I be?"

Artan
shrugged. "There are many things in this place that are strange to
us. Things that are not what they appear to be."

"Yes, there
are, but I am not one of them. However, whether you trust me or not
is now a moot point, since you cannot remove these shackles."

"An unforeseen
problem."

"And yet you
have a seeress amongst you. Why did she not see it?"

"I don't
know." Artan rose and went over to the fire, returning with two
chunks of overcooked meat, one of which he held out to Bane. The
Demon Lord took it, examining the charred offering with
ill-concealed distaste.

"It doesn't
taste very nice," Artan said, "but it's edible."

Bane nibbled
on the meat, supressing a grimace of disgust at the oily, musky
flavour. Setting it aside, he pondered his situation, liking it
even less than he had before. The dark power sat sullenly in his
bones, its dull anger affecting his mood. Now he was reliant upon
these people for protection, a ridiculous predicament. Where was
Kayos? Would the Grey God be able to find him in this accursed
place?

Kayos stepped
from the glowing pocket into a broad grey tunnel, its walls hung
with chains. He recognised it as a remnant of a destroyed domain,
its boundary wards long since faded away, being incorporated back
into the God Realm. A quick glance around did not find Bane's
trail, and he cursed. Now all he had to go on was a vague sense of
which direction might be the right one, like intuition. Allowing it
to guide him, he set off down the tunnel, the trio following.
Without Bane at his side he was far more vulnerable to attack, and
this was a dangerous place, for all its innocuous appearance.