When Angels Fall (Demon Lord) (5 page)

The Demon Lord flopped down on his couch with a grunt and summoned another goblet of ambrosia. “You are getting to know me far too well, Father.”

“What does it matter how much courage I have?” Sarmalin asked.

“Because I despise cowards, just as I despise grovelling and dislike flowery speeches.”

“But it is my husband who requires your aid, and he is very brave.”

“He is an imbecile.”

She raised her chin. “You would not say that if you knew him.”

“Oh, really? Would he try to fight me, too?” He leant forward. “Tell me, Sarmalin. I will not waste my time rescuing a fool.”

“You are tar’merin, so -”

“No! Forget that I am tar’merin. Would he fight me if he did not know that, or if I was not one?”

“To save a light god, yes, I believe he would. He has done it already.”

“Indeed. But he would do it again, even after he tried it once and paid the price? The depths of his stupidity astonish me. Will I waste my time rescuing an angel who will throw his life away at the first opportunity?”

“He is an archangel, Lord.”

“What is the difference?”

“We are a different caste, a breed apart. We are warriors, and he is one of the most powerful.”

Bane snorted and sipped his ambrosia. “A child of the light who fights the darkness is about as effective as… a piece of string to hold back a river.”

“That is a terrible analogy,” Kayos commented.

“At least he tried,” Sarmalin said.

Bane said, “And he was captured and tortured, and now you want me to rescue him. Why should I, hmm? Tell me that.”

“Archangels are the greatest warriors of the light. We have saved domains and gods, and defeated demons with the Sword of Vengeance.”

“Have you? Do you know how easy it is for me to destroy a demon?”

“You are a dark god.”

Bane waved his goblet. “And now we have insults.”

“You goaded her,” Drevarin said.

The Demon Lord sighed. “True. I did. So, Sarmalin, where is this chamber in which your husband is imprisoned?”

“In the
underworld, Lord.”

“Obviously. Are you sure he is still alive? How do you know where he is, anyway?”

“The seer, Ezmaral, checks on him for me every week. This week, he told me that Majelin has been moved to a chamber with powerful ward magic.”

Bane looked thoughtful. “I rescued those wretches a week ago.”

“You were there?” Her breath caught. “Perhaps that is why…?”

“I was, and yes, that is why, indubitably. The
demons fear that I will stumble across him. Or that his wife will beg me to save him. I am surprised Tryne did not demand it as one of his favours.”

“He did not know about Majelin.”

“But now, presumably, he does?”

She nodded.

“So if I do not agree to help you, he will demand it?”

“I would not call it a demand, Lord. A plea, just as mine is.”

Bane snorted. “In my experience, it is a demand, accompanied by threats of no more aid from angels, should I ever require such again.”

“It will be dangerous, Bane,” Kayos said.

“When is it ever
not
dangerous?”

“How dangerous?” Sarmalin asked.

“If he has been moved to a warded chamber, it will be one warded against dark gods, to guard the prisoners of the chamber’s owner, who is probably Torvaran. If a dark god enters such a chamber, the prisoner will be hurled into a deep pit, where he will perish.”

Sarmalin hung her head.
“So it is hopeless?”

“I did not say that.”

“But how could you rescue him, in that case?”

“By ceasing to be a dark god,” he said.

“You can do that?”

“Yes, but
the demons will fight to keep, or kill, him. An archangel is probably their most prized prisoner.”

“Can demons slay you?”

“They will try. In case it has escaped your notice, Sarmalin, I am mortal.”

“I knew it, Lord.”

The prospect of this precious warrior of the light endangering himself to save her husband gave Sarmalin several qualms, yet she could not bring herself to withdraw her plea. Her eyes brimmed and a lump threatened to choke her. If saving Majelin was so dangerous, as, indeed, it must be for a mortal god, he would surely deny her plea, and Tryne’s. Drevarin cleared his throat and Kayos regarded Bane with an inscrutable expression. Sherinias chewed her lip as the tension rose.

The Demon Lord’s eyes flicked past Sarmalin, and his expression softened. She fought the urge to look around, wondering what he regarded with such tenderness.

His gaze returned to her. “Do you want your husband back? If you are not sure, I am happy to forego this task.”

“I want him back with all my heart, Lord.”

“You must, to beg my aid.”

She met his eyes. “In return, my husband and I will do whatever you require of us.”

“Now that is a sweeping statement, Sarmalin. Are you sure you would not like to amend it? Add some ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’, perhaps?”

“I am. We will be forever in your debt. Even if you fail, I will remain indebted.”

“Hmmm. I have seldom required the aid of an angel…” Bane glanced at Kayos when he gave a derisive snort. “It has only happened twice.”

“And both times they saved your life,” the Grey God said.

“I am not denying that they helped me, only that it happens all that often.”

“Doubtless you will require the aid of angels in the future, since you tend to put yourself in harm’s way quite a lot.”

“Through no fault of mine,” Bane said. “I would rather have stayed in Myrthran.”

“I know. I did not say it was your fault.”

“I suppose I shall be glad not to owe an angel favours if I ever need a bit of help again.”

Sarmalin’s heart thudded.
“We will be honoured to aid you.”

Bane eyed her. “I hope your husband feels the same way.”

“My husband is honourable. He will acknowledge his debt.”

“Good, because this is no small thing I do. A trip to the
underworld is nothing to me, but being powerless down there is dangerous indeed.”

“I will come with you,” Drevarin volunteered.

Bane sighed and shook his head. “You have got to stop saying ‘I will do that’ every time something dangerous crops up, you know.”

“I can fight demons.”

“There are far worse things than demons down there, such as traps and demonic beasts.”

“None of which can harm me. Besides, we are not going to be traipsing the length and breadth of the
underworld, surely?”

“That depends on how well Sarmalin can pinpoint where her husband languishes.” Bane cocked a brow at her.

She shook her head. “I have no idea where it is, Lord. Ezmaral only glimpses things in his water, and he struggled to see the chamber.”

“That is because of the wards,” Kayos said.

Bane created an Eye with a wave. “Then we shall have to find him.”

“You cannot find an angel with an Eye
.”

“Truly? How did this Ezmaral find him, then?”

“He is an archangel too.”

“So they can scry each other, but we cannot? I thought they did not have powers.”

“They do not,” Kayos said. “They just cannot hide from each other. Scrying is not a power. Even humans can do it.”

“So why can they hide from us?”

“It is to protect them, and those they protect, from dark gods. If we could find them with an Eye, so could the darkness. Their creators made them invisible to Eyes.”

Bane grunted. “That is annoying. Perhaps I can find the
cavern where he was before. It is probably close to where he is now. I doubt the demons carried him far.”

Kayos inclined his head. “Possibly.”

“It will go quicker if we all search.”

Drevarin and Kayos created Eyes, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Sherinias did so too, her mien apprehensive. Sarmalin folded her hands
to hide their trembling, hardly daring to believe that the Demon Lord had agreed to save her husband. The font of gratitude that blossomed within her made her long to throw herself at Bane’s feet and bless him for his courage and generosity.

He glanced at her. “Sit, angel. This could take a while.”

Sarmalin settled upon one of the strange green chairs, casting a smile at the young blonde girl, middle-aged man and younger, handsome grey-eyed warrior who sat around a nearby table. They returned it, looking a little awestruck, which surprised her, considering whose company they kept. Time ticked past while the four gods scanned the underworld, and the humans lost interest in her and started a murmured conversation.

About half an hour later,
Drevarin said, “I think I have found the chamber where he was imprisoned before.”

Bane leant over to peer into his Eye. “What makes you think so?”

“Those holes in the wall look fresh, and there are marks on the floor.”

“You have keen eyes.”
Bane sat back and waved away his Eye. “I will go there and ask one of those damned demons where he is.”

Kayos dismissed his Eye. “Be careful, Bane. I shall watch over you.”

The Demon Lord rose, flicking back the edges of his cloak. His presence seemed to darken the room, as if the shadows followed him even into the light realm. He went over to the table where the humans sat, and the flaxen-haired girl stood up to embrace him. Bane kissed her cheek, and the two murmured a few words, then he released her and walked to the far side of the room, where he turned to face them before vanishing with a surge of dark power. Sarmalin jumped when Kayos spoke.

“Sarmalin. Return to your home and await your husband there.”

“Why, Lord?”

“He will be in a sorry state, and I think he would rather you did not see him thus. Bane will take him to the cloud gardens, where the white power will heal him. Besides, I am sure you would prefer your reunion to be private.”

She nodded and rose. “Will he succeed, Lord?” She bit her lip, ashamed of her question.

“I have not known Bane to fail at anything he sets his mind to yet, but nothing is certain, except that if he cannot free Majel
in, no one can, and if he cannot, he will see to it that he has a swift end.”

Sarmalin bowed and stepped into the closest Channel. She walked along it until she found one that shared space with the inside of her house, stepped out and dithered, then sat at the kitchen table and tried to imagine what would happen when Bane attempted to rescue Majelin. Her tears finally overflowed at the prospect that her husband might perish, but she tempered her sorrow with the fact that he would be better off dead than suffering
any longer.

Bane
rematerialised in a dim tunnel that brought back a rush of unwanted memories and strolled along it, summoning demons as he went, to save time. They rose behind him or emerged from the torches that lighted parts of the tunnel, showing it to be an area frequented by droges. That was not surprising. Even an archangel would not survive in the deeper caverns. The task was not as onerous as saving the humans had been, and several days of rest from the shadows had restored some of his humanity, but it was an imposition he could have done without, nonetheless. He entered a cavern at the end of the passage and studied the four fresh holes in one wall, a pair at shoulder height and another couple close to the floor. The floor was worn in two foot-sized spots close to the lower holes, and the wall bore smooth patches, as if someone had leant against it for a very long time. The place stank like a cesspit, but that was not unusual in an underworld.

He turned to his followers and addressed the nearest, whose name sprang into his mind the moment he required it. “Farvar
is. I am the Demon Lord. Where is the archangel who was removed from here?”

The demon bowed. “
In a chamber, Lord.”

“Do not try my patience
,” Bane said, irked by Farvaris’ evasiveness, although he expected it.

Farvaris’
glare made molten spots on the wall as he motioned to the tunnel behind him. “It is that way, Lord.”

Bane pondered the obliqueness of the reply, which was truthful without being all that helpful.  “Show me.
And do not imagine I am going to traipse around after you while you lead me on a circuitous route and your cohorts slay the archangel. Take me directly to him.”

The demon gestured
again, and the others shuffled aside to allow Bane to pass. He strode along several dim tunnels, guided by Farvaris’ directions, until he came to a doorway covered with runes, some of them aglow with soft crimson fire. Bane read the simple, but powerful spell that forbade any dark god to pass save its creator, Torvaran. Any attempt to do so would trigger an ancient Fetch and plunge whoever was fastened to the altar into a fiery pit that only a dark god could survive. Bane had encountered its like before, on Myrthran, when Arkonen had imprisoned Mirra in just such a room.