Demon Lord IV - Lord of Shadows (10 page)

Shrea clung to
a crag, her bleeding fingers slipping on the sharp rocks. The demon
loomed over her, pounding the rock above her with its fists to try
to break the outcrop to which she clung. Part of its head had been
burnt away by her fire during the brief, fierce battle between
them. It had spotted her when she was only a short distance from
the cave and given chase, its huge legs eating up the gap with
alarming speed. Several bolts of blue magic had slowed it, gouging
chunks from its torso and head, but still it had come on. She had
run, slipping on the rough rocks and twisting her ankle, then
turned at bay.

Again her fire
had blown chunks out of it and made it stagger back, soil running
from it. She was tired from creating the ward, and the cold numbed
her hands, making it hard to wield the blue power. When it seemed
certain that the demon would catch her, she had prayed, and she
still did.

Had Bane
abandoned them? Had it all been a lie? She had slipped behind a
craggy outcrop to elude her pursuer, then the rock had crumbled
away under her feet and left her clinging to the crag, her legs
dangling. The demon could not reach her, however, so it tried to
break the rock, and it would succeed. She sobbed, the keening,
frigid wind whipping away the steam she gasped. Once again, she
prayed to the only deity who could save her.

"Bane, Demon
Lord, please help me!"

The demon's
fists thudded on the rock, which shuddered and creaked under the
onslaught, making her hands to slip a little more. The cold and
exhaustion sapped her strength, and shock slimed her skin with icy
sweat. Soon she would fall, and the demon would kill her, then the
sixth ward would never be activated.

A glowing
figure appeared above the demon. Huge, snowy wings swept the air
with mighty strokes. In her tiny hands, she held a slender sword,
and white flames licked from its blade. The demon whipped around,
its maw opening in surprise as the angel raised the sword and
brought it down in a lightning-fast stroke. It passed through one
of the demon's arms as it raised three defensively, lopping off its
hand. White fire blazed from the sword, but the demon did not fear
it. Instead, it leapt up the slope to try to strike the angel. She
retreated with a sweep of her wings, floating away.

Shrea
scrabbled for a better hold, trying to pull herself back onto the
crag. Her bleeding hands slipped, the rock crumbled, and she lost
her grip. With a wail, she fell.

Syrin wondered
if there was any point in fighting the demon if the mage was dead.
There was a chance that she would survive, however, and Kayos had
asked her for help. A request from one of the Seven could not be
denied. The demon lunged at her again, and she flew higher still,
slashing at it. It roared with rage, its gritty maw opening to
reveal stone teeth, its pebble eyes glaring. Syrin folded her wings
and dropped, then opened them to halt her fall beside the demon,
the sword slicing into its side.

It staggered,
swinging huge fists at her. One struck the edge of her wing,
sending her tumbling. A powerful downbeat stopped her fall, but her
wing hurt as she flew up to the demon again. She moved closer, the
wind tugging at her, blowing her towards her foe. The sword sang in
her hands, rejoicing in the battle it so rarely tasted. Not for
aeons had an angel summoned the Sword of Vengeance to fight a
demon. It guided her, almost dragging her through the air, so
strong was its yearning for the demon's destruction.

Syrin drifted
closer still, the sword held before her, its white fire brightening
as it sensed the demon's proximity. The fiend lunged at her again,
and she slashed at it, the weapon passing through the top of its
head, lopping off a few inches. Whittling an earth demon down bit
by bit would take a long time, however. It required a strike to its
chest to destroy it, and that meant coming within range of its
arms, unless she lopped them off first.

Demons were
not stupid, and it kept two arms at its sides to avoid just that.
Syrin circled it, trying to get behind it, but it turned to face
her, its maw curved in a foul smile. The sword dragged her closer
as it tried to plunge itself into the demon's breast. Its only goal
was to destroy its enemy, with no regard for the safety of its
wielder. The fiend swung a fist, and she back-winged away. The
sword quivered and sang, twisting as it slashed upwards, lopping
off several of the demon's fingers. Again she retreated, wondering
if she had done enough. Perhaps the mage was dead anyway.

The demon
bent, its mud muscles writhing, and ripped a rock from the
mountain, which it hurled at her with prodigious ease. Her wings
swept the air as she tried to avoid it, but it struck her in the
midriff, and pain exploded through her. The force of the blow flung
her backwards, and her wings folded, unable to beat while she was
on her back. She spiralled down, trying to right herself, barely
able to slow her descent. The demon leapt after her, sniggering
with gritty vitriol, its mouth stretched in a triumphant grin.
Syrin turned over at the last moment, but she still hit the rocks
hard. The impact punched the wind out of her, and she sprawled on
the jagged surface, scraping her legs and palms. The sword
clattered away, falling between the rocks, and terror filled her.
She could not step into a Channel unless she stood up, and she did
not have the strength to do that.

The demon
pounded closer, its flinty eyes bright with anticipation. Nothing
pleased a demon more than conquering an angel. Her death would be
slow and painful at its hands. Her midriff ached. An angel's
fragile bones were not intended for savage conflict. Her wings were
spread across the rocks, weighing her down as she groped into the
crevasse where the sword had fallen. The demon was two strides
away, and panic froze her gut, almost robbing her of the ability to
move or think.

Instinct urged
her to throw up her hands and create a cocoon to hide in, then her
hand closed on the smooth, warm hilt, and she turned, her wings
twisted awkwardly under her. The demon stood over her, so certain
of its victory that it was bending to break her wings so it could
toy with her once she was too injured to fight or fly. She
screamed, and the sword leapt, almost lifting her off the ground as
it pierced the demon's chest. The fiend fell apart in a shower of
foul soil, the bulk of which collapsed on Syrin. It filled her
mouth and nose with its sulphurous stench, pinning her to the
rocks.

Syrin choked
and coughed, struggling to pull herself from the mound of settling
earth, which streamed away down the slope, reducing her burden. She
wriggled free, grimaced and brushed the demon dust from her skin
and clothes. The Sword of Vengeance had vanished, its task
complete. Syrin lay gasping, her mind filled with horrible images
of what might have happened had the sword not struck when it
did.

Demons hated
angels with an unmatched fervour, and conflicts between them were
rare, since angels valued their lives. Eventually it might have
taken her to Vorkon, if it was one of his minions, and being at the
mercy of a dark god did not bear thinking about.

Fortunately,
it had not been a fire demon, for she doubted that she would have
had the courage to face one of them, even at Kayos' behest.
Although the Sword of Vengeance could ward off the heat of a fire
demon's eyes, an angel had never been able to get close enough to
one of them to strike the fatal blow. Then again, there was only
one instance where an angel had fought a fire demon, and he had
perished in the attempt. Legend had it that the archangel Syrapheal
had saved a city from a marauding fire demon that a black mage had
summoned and sent to destroy it. While Syrapheal had fought the
demon, the people had fled, and most had survived because of his
sacrifice.

Syrin sat up,
taking stock of her injuries. One wing throbbed, her gut ached, and
blue blood oozed from the scratches on her legs and hands. The mage
was probably dead, she thought bitterly, but she had won. Filled
with triumph, she got up, clinging to the rocks, and peered down at
the place where the mage had fallen. Shrea lay on a narrow ledge
about ten feet down, gazing up at Syrin. The angel smiled and
spread her wings, allowing the wind to lift her and carry her down
to the mage. Shrea stared at her with an awestruck expression, and
Syrin landed beside her, folded her wings and assumed a formal,
angelic pose.

"The demon is
no more."

"Thank you."
Shrea managed a weak smile. "Did Bane send you?"

"No. The Demon
Lord has been struck down. Kayos sent me."

"Struck down?
Is he dead?"

"No. He
sleeps."

"But he heard
my prayer."

"Yes."

Shrea shifted,
grimacing.

"You are
hurt," Syrin murmured.

"My leg is
broken."

"Unfortunate."

Shrea pulled a
face. "Yes. Is there anything you can do?"

"No. I cannot
heal, nor can I transport you."

Shrea tugged
her coat closer. "I will freeze."

Syrin glanced
around, spotting a shallow cave further down the slope. She held
out her hand.

"Come."

Shrea took it,
and Syrin tugged her down the sloping shelf, offering little
support, but a lot of encouragement. The mage crawled, groaning as
shafts of pain shot up her leg. When she reached the cave, her
breath came in harsh gasps, her skin had grown paler, and deep
furrows scored her brow from the pain and effort. Syrin released
her hand and stepped back.

"Here is a
little shelter. I will inform Kayos of your plight."

Shrea gazed up
at her. "Thank you."

Syrin smiled,
then turned and stepped into the air.

Kayos waved
away the Eye as Syrin appeared in her usual manner, turning to her
with a slight smile.

"You did
well."

"I am
hurt."

Kayos held out
his hands, and Syrin knelt before him, surprising Shevra. Kayos
placed his hands on her shining golden hair. The scratches on her
arms and legs vanished, and when Kayos released her, she rose.

"She will
die."

Kayos sighed
and rose from the chair, walking over to sit on the edge of Bane's
cot. "Perhaps. For the moment, she is safer than we are."

Syrin glanced
at Shevra. "Fire mage."

Shevra quelled
an urge to kneel. "Yes?"

The angel
smiled. "I merely greet you."

"Oh. I
see."

Kayos waved a
hand. "Ignore her, she loves to taunt."

Syrin pouted.
"Cruel god."

He snorted.
"Wait until you anger Bane."

"I will
not."

"Wise child,
though I think you will, anyway." He looked down at Bane. "But I
fear if he does not wake soon we are all doomed, except for you, of
course, Syrin."

"Why is that?"
Shevra asked, intrigued.

"She is
beneath Vorkon's notice, and she can pass through the Realm Gate in
a Channel. A gift from the gods who created her kind. She is
powerless, and therefore the wards will not stop her."

"Surely you
can escape?"

He shook his
head. "A dark goddess guards the Gate."

"What will
Vorkon do if he catches you?"

"He will not.
But if he did, he would enslave me, as he has done to Drayshina. He
will use us to keep this domain alive, so he may fill it with his
horrors and rule over them. Or he might allow the people to live,
so he may torment them. Who knows the mind of a dark god?"

Shevra stared
at him, horror chilling her heart at the terrible news he had so
casually imparted. "Our lady has fallen?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

She raised a
hand to her mouth, her eyes burning. "Can she be saved?"

"Only Bane can
save her, when he wakes."

"And if he
doesn't?"

"We can only
hope he will, child."

"But Lord, you
can become invisible, so you could escape this world without the
guardians seeing you."

Kayos smiled.
"Alas, I am a god, and as such, the Realm Gate will not allow me
exit without using the Key, or activating the unlock runes on the
inside of the Gate. That will set off the chiming, and alert the
guardians to my presence. I could avoid them, but they would not
allow me to pass through the Gate."

"So who could
open the Gate without making it chime?"

"No one. Only
an angel may pass through it without setting off the chiming, since
she does not have to open it."

Shevra
considered this. "Then could she go for help?"

"No one can
help us."

"Not even
another one like Lord Bane?"

"There is no
other like Bane at this time. Nay, child, our hopes rest only with
him. Without him, I would not have ventured into this domain at
all, with a dark god loose in it."

Shevra
shivered and looked at Syrin, who had settled on the end of the
cot. The fair-haired girl was curled up beside Bane, stroking his
hair, her expression desolate. Patrin and the warrior remained in
the chapel, guarding the white flame, but the high priestess had
re-joined them, and also stared at Syrin. Shevra doubted that any
church had ever seen so much celestial activity.

"What do you
think Vorkon will do now?" Shevra asked, breaking the short
silence.

Kayos sighed.
"He will snuff out the white fire in every church, until only this
one remains, then he will send all his mages and their slaves to
extinguish this one too. I doubt we could withstand such an attack.
Once the flame is out, he can rise himself and kill Bane. We will
have to leave before that happens."

"Where will we
go?"

"A church in
the city of Avadorn, where the Blue Council has taken shelter.
Perhaps, with a group of powerful blue mages to help guard the
flame, we can keep it lighted long enough for Bane to recover."