Demon Lord V - God Realm (8 page)

Artan rolled
on the ground in agony, but raised his head. A soldier with a wound
in his belly picked up his fallen sword and staggered to his feet.
Rinath stared at her bloody hands, clearly unable to believe her
eyes. The man walked up beside her and plunged his weapon into her
chest. She fell backwards with a choked cry, raised her hands and
unleashed a bolt of shadow at him. He collapsed with a grunt, dead
before he hit the ground, a blackened hole burnt in his chest.
Rinath gripped the sword hilt and tried to pull it out. Artan
struggled to rise to his feet, his legs rubbery. Ethra ran over to
Rinath and hit her over the head with her torch.

The
demigoddess collapsed in a spray of sparks, and the torch went out.
The light from Bane's manacles illuminated a scene of devastation,
and the only person on her feet was Ethra, who stood over the
fallen goddess. Juvo was hunched over on the edge of the pool of
light, his torch on the ground beside him, and the other soldier
lay nearby. Bane writhed and groaned, but the light from his
manacles dimmed. Artan stumbled over to him and fell to his knees
beside Sarrin. She still breathed, and he gave a sigh of relief,
turning to Ethra.

"Relight the
torches. Quick before the light goes."

The girl
picked up her torch and went over to one of the packs to find the
tinderbox. Artan turned to Bane, wincing as the light from the
shackles stabbed his eyes. The dark god writhed, his lips drawn
back and his eyes screwed shut, his hands clawing at the dust.
Leaving him to fight his internal battle, Artan rose and approached
Juvo. The burly man was winded, but otherwise unharmed, and the
soldier who lay nearby was unconscious. The man Rinath had knocked
out was coming around, clutching his chin and groaning. Artan
returned to Bane's side and found that Rinath still lived, but
would soon die of blood loss. Ethra relighted the torches and
planted them in the ground before she re-joined Artan, gazing in
concern at his reddened hands and face.

"Are you all
right?"

"Better than
him." Artan nodded at the dead soldier.

"You should
have killed her. You should kill him too, while he's helpless."

Artan shot her
a hard look. "Didn't I see him save your worthless hide again just
now?"

"More fool
him."

"So it
seems.

The light from
the shackles dimmed to a soft glow, and Bane relaxed, his skin
sheened with sweat. Juvo dragged the unconscious soldier into the
centre of the torches, and they made camp. By the time Sarrin woke,
Juvo had moved Rinath's body and that of the soldier to the edge of
the pool of light. The old priestess smeared Artan's burnt hands
and face with salve and bound his hands with cloth torn from the
dead priestess’ spare robe. They sat around the fire and ate
charred meat while they waited for Bane to wake.

Bane drifted
up from the darkness, becoming aware of the pain that now lived in
him like a malignant entity. He groaned and rolled onto his side as
his empty stomach heaved stinging bile into his throat. The man on
guard woke Sarrin, who brought a flask of water over and pressed it
to Bane's lips. He swallowed a little, then his stomach heaved
again, and he turned his head away. Sarrin gazed at him with
concern.

"You are in a
lot of pain."

Bane grimaced.
"Yes."

"If you were
not tar'merin, and I offered to remove the shackles in return for
your aid to escape this trap, would you agree?"

"Yes, but I
would kill you all as soon as I regained my powers if I was not
tar'merin. You cannot make such a bargain with a dark god. They
would not honour it."

She nodded,
looking sad. "But if you die we will never escape, and then we will
all perish anyway."

"Yes."

"I shall speak
to Artan when he wakes."

Bane nodded
and closed his eyes, drifting into a restless doze. When he woke
again, Juvo examined the cuff on his right wrist while Artan
watched him with a mixture of hope and doubt. Ethra scowled and
poked the fire with obvious anger. Sarrin looked resigned. Juvo
turned the cuff, seeking a weak spot. He tugged at it, trying to
pull it off, but it would not fit over Bane's hand. Finally he
placed the cuff on a flat rock and set the edge of a sword against
it, hammering it with another stone. The sword's edge soon blunted,
but it did not so much as scratch the shackle's smooth surface. He
gave up, and Bane went back to sleep.

When Bane woke
again he was a little stronger, and they broke camp. Artan handed
him a torch and a sword, and walked beside him at the rear of the
group. A couple of hours later the ground shifted, and Bane
stumbled sideways and sprawled. Artan helped him up.

"Which
way?"

Bane pointed
to the left. "Over there."

Artan's brows
rose. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

The group
closed ranks in anticipation of the dark beasts' attack. It came
moments later, preceded by the high pitched thrumming. Bane knew
that the group could not withstand another attack. They were too
few now, and injured and exhausted. Gritting his teeth, he allowed
the dark power to seep into his flesh. The cuffs flared as the
mottled grey beasts shot from the gloom, and they veered away to
vanish back into the darkness as swiftly as they had appeared. Bane
groaned and sank to his knees, his flesh on fire. Artan turned to
him with a look of amazement, swapping a glance with Sarrin.

Even Ethra
looked surprised, and Bane struggled to thrust the dark fire back
into his bones, sweat popping out on his brow. The cuffs dimmed,
and Artan gestured to his men, who gripped Bane's arms and hauled
him to his feet. With their help he stumbled on, groaning as his
muscles spasmed. When the ground shifted again, less than an hour
later, all three stumbled sideways as Bane's connection with the
trap's power pulled him. He pointed to the right, and the group
veered in that direction as he let the power seep from his bones
again, making the shackles flare. The soldiers retched and almost
dropped him, growling curses. He glimpsed the dark beasts in the
gloom, but they did not brave the light.

The soldiers
dragged Bane along, bowed under his weight, while he barely moved
his legs. The trap shifted again only minutes later, but the light
from the shackles kept the beasts away. Over the next hour the trap
shifted many times, first in one direction, and then the other, but
Bane kept them going straight. The dark beasts raced around them
almost constantly, yet did not enter the light, and Bane allowed
the dark power to remain in his flesh to keep the shackles alight.
The soldiers tired swiftly with the added hardship of enduring the
dark power's sickening influence, and they were forced to stop and
rest. The men lowered Bane to the ground as Sarrin knelt beside him
and pressed a water flask to his lips.

He turned his
head away. "I cannot."

"You
must."

"It will do me
no good."

She stoppered
the flask. "How long can you keep this up?"

"Not
long."

Sarrin gazed
into the darkness, glimpsing grey shapes moving around them just
beyond the light. "They are right here, all around us."

"They are
desperate to stop us."

Sarrin rose
and approached Artan. "We must keep moving. You and Juvo must carry
Bane now."

Artan nodded,
beckoning to Juvo, and they hauled Bane to his feet once more. They
retched and cursed as the soldiers had done, but endured the
illness. The trap shifted again and again, sending the men
staggering this way and that, and Artan no longer needed to ask
which direction to take. The dark beasts followed, staying just
beyond the light. When Artan and Juvo staggered with exhaustion,
and it seemed that they would be forced to stop and rest, a grey
wall appeared ahead of them. The sight of it lent the men strength,
and they shuffled towards it as fast as they could. They entered a
thick, noxious grey mist, which made everyone cough and retch
except Bane. As soon as they entered it, the dark beasts
vanished.

Bane barely
noticed the change in terrain. It took all his concentration to
prevent the black fire from consuming his flesh, while he fought to
stay conscious in spite of the agony. He was dimly aware of Sarrin
telling him that the beasts were gone, repeating it over and over
while she coughed and gagged. When it penetrated the haze of pain,
he leashed the power with torturous effort. Little by little, he
forced the malignant fire in quiescence. The burning in his blood
cooled, and then darkness washed over him in a blessed tide.

Artan cursed
as Bane sagged, his knees almost buckling under the sudden increase
in weight. He had thought that they were already carrying Bane, but
apparently they were not. Stumbling to a halt, he called the two
soldiers and ordered them to take Bane's legs. The stinging grey
mist made his eyes water and his throat burn, and he did not wish
to linger in it. The others clearly shared his wish, for the
soldiers lifted Bane's legs and set off through the mist at a quick
shamble. Ethra came to walk beside the struggling quartet, eyeing
Bane with deep loathing.

"We're out of
the trap, Artan. Leave him."

He shot her a
scathing look. "You're a real little cow, you know that?"

"He's a god.
He'll manage without us."

"He helped us,
and now we're going to help him."

She coughed
and wiped her eyes. "When he recovers, you'll regret it."

"We'll
see."

It seemed like
an age that they stumbled through the grey mist, their skin burning
and reddening as it settled on it. Just when Artan thought they
would have to abandon Bane to save themselves, it lightened, then
dissipated, and they stumbled into a dull orange landscape. Artan
drew in a gasp of clean air, and the group halted, lowering Bane to
the ground.

Sarrin poured
water onto a cloth and they wiped their burning skin, then she
knelt beside Bane. He appeared to have suffered no ill effects from
the corrosive mist, which made Ethra snort with anger.
Nevertheless, he was pale and gaunt, his eyes sunken and his skin
dewed with sweat. The shackles' light had dimmed to a pale glimmer,
but when Sarrin looked more closely at them, she gasped in dismay.
The skin of Bane's wrists was blackened, and when she pulled up his
sleeves she found red streaks running up his arms. She called Artan
over, and he studied the marks with a frown, then glanced at her
and sighed.

"It seems we
could have saved ourselves the trouble of carrying him out here
after all."

"We have to
get the shackles off."

"How? We've
tried."

"There must be
a way."

Artan shook
his head. "Perhaps not. Armorgan would not have wished to free his
foe if he had managed to trap him with these."

Sarrin bowed
her head, surprised to find her eyes burning again, and not from
the mist. "I am convinced that he is tar'merin, Artan."

"Well I'm not.
He saved us, yes, but he saved himself too."

She frowned at
him. "If you had not put the shackles on him, he would have been in
no danger from that place."

"And he
wouldn't have helped us then, I'll wager."

"You do not
know that."

Artan threw up
his hands. "What do you want me to do? I'm prepared to help him as
much as I can, but I can't get those damn things off."

"We must find
a way, before he dies."

"We'll be
lucky if we manage to stay alive in this place."

Sarrin gazed
at Bane. "I believe a light god could help him."

"I'm sure they
could, if they were so inclined. We could use their help too, you
know, but I don't see any crawling out of the woodwork around
here."

"Bane called
this the God Realm, which would seem to imply that gods live
here."

Artan snorted.
"Yes, nasty ones."

"Then we must
find a good one."

"How?"

"Pray."

He glared at
her. "Armorgan's dead."

"No, to Kayos,
Bane's former companion."

"Fine, you do
that. But I'm not going to count on one of the seven Grey Gods
coming to his aid, or ours. I find that rather hard to
believe."

Ethra walked
up behind them. "Let's just kill him."

"You stay out
of it!" Artan bellowed, then jumped up and stalked away to join his
men.

Kayos paused,
glancing back. He had passed through the white clouds and into
another barren rocky area, common in the God Realm. His pursuer had
gained on him, and now he could discern it in the distance. Its
dark, lupine form was unmistakeable, and yellow eyes glowed in its
massive, sharp muzzled head. A Demon Hound. Somewhere behind it,
its master followed, a dark god hunting him as if he was a deer. He
could escape by taking shelter in a domain, or within his shields,
or he could try to outrun it. His salvation lay somewhere ahead, in
the form of a tar'merin with the power to protect him, if he could
find him in time. He glanced at the trio of humans who sagged on
their steeds, looking exhausted. There was no time for rest stops,
however, if they were going to find Bane in time, and they knew it
as well as him. He swung away and took to the air again.

Bane stumbled
after the ragged group, his feet dragging. According to Sarrin, he
had been comatose for a long time after they had carried him out of
the trap, and he had been surprised that they had not abandoned him
as soon as they no longer needed the shackles' light. The sickness
ate at him and the blackness spread up his arms, patches appearing
on his legs as well. The pain was constant and enervating, sapping
his will and energy, and he just wanted to lie down and die. His
stomach was a tight, empty knot, and at times his mind wandered in
feverish delusions.