Demon Lord III - Grey God (20 page)

His attempts
to bolster Bane's confidence in his ability to defeat a dark god
seemed foolish in the face of Bane's rash attempt to save
Drayshina. This was not how he had planned the young dark god's
first confrontation with an older, wiser, and doubtless more
skilled enemy. Had his attempts to boost Bane's self-confidence
caused him to throw himself into the Fetch? Surely he knew Vorkon
would sense the trap's activation and rush to secure his captive?
Was Bane embroiled in battle even now, alone and vulnerable? Should
he follow him into the Darkworld and try to help him, or would that
only add to his peril?

Kayos stood
irresolute as the many unpleasant possibilities and possible
disastrous outcomes presented themselves. This foolish mistake
could doom them all if Bane was badly injured or killed, an all too
real possibility. He glanced at Mirra, who appeared to be frozen
with shock, a hand over her mouth. Mithran put a comforting arm
around her shoulders, his face expression anguished. Grem fondled
his sword hilt and scanned the landscape grimly.

It seemed like
an age that they stood immobile, taking in the enormity of what had
just happened and the possible ramifications of it. The Grey God
shook himself from his reverie, deciding that before anything else,
he must take the mortals to safety. If anything happened to Mirra,
he dreaded Bane's reaction.

As Kayos
stepped towards her, a surge dark power chilled the air beside him,
and he swung around. A tall, strikingly handsome man with dark
brown hair appeared, a sneering smile twisting his sensual lips. A
gold-trimmed olive tunic moulded the powerful contours of his
chest, matching his trousers. Jewels flashed on his wrist bands and
ornate, gold-embossed belt, and a sweeping velvet cloak fell from
his broad shoulders. His green eyes glinted with triumph, and Kayos
knew he faced Vorkon. He wondered why dark gods possessed such a
strong allure, considering how dangerous and sadistic they were. He
stepped back, raising a hand. A brilliant shield of white fire
formed in it, and Vorkon's smile faded a little as he studied
it.

"Well, you are
a brave one. Or are you just stupid? Do you not know you have no
hope of defending yourself against me?"

"I might
surprise you."

"Your
tar'merin is dead, and Drayshina is my slave." Vorkon's cold eyes
flicked over Kayos. "You are next. The Realm Gate is guarded once
more, so there is no escape from this domain. When I have destroyed
the tar'merin's soul in the Forever, I shall return for you."

The news of
Bane's death stunned Kayos, and worse, Vorkon knew where to find
his soul. If Vorkon destroyed him before he could gather the power
to leave the light realm, Drayshina was doomed to aeons of slavery,
and he would be hard put to escape the domain. Vorkon sniggered and
vanished. Mirra gave a soft cry and turned to bury her face in
Mithran's chest. He stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort,
his visage drawn and haggard. Kayos frowned, shaking his head.

"He lied. Bane
cannot be dead. His shield still protects you."

Grem doubled
over, clutching his stomach, and vomited. Mithran turned away to
retch, and Mirra paled, her expression becoming anguished. Kayos
cast a shield around them, and they gazed at him with despairing
eyes. Mirra covered her face and wept.

The air
shimmered as Syrin stepped out of the channel and into a dead
forest, passing through an invisible door in the substance of
reality. Syrin gazed down at the man at her feet, then raised her
wings and knelt beside him. Tracing the contours of his cheek with
long fingers, she tilted her head as she studied his face.

"Tar'merin,"
she murmured. "Your call has been answered."

Her gaze
dropped to the dagger hilt protruding from his shoulder, and she
considered it. "I cannot heal you, but I will help you."

Her eyes
flicked to the second wound that oozed a slow crimson stream.
"Mortal god. Beware death's soft footfalls, lest it catch you
unawares."

Syrin
unbuttoned his tunic and pulled it open, her eyes widening at the
sight of the rune scars. She passed her hand over them. "Power,
sorrow, death and pain."

Returning her
attention to the wound in his side, she placed her hand upon it,
and gossamer threads appeared under it as if spun from the air.
They clung to his skin, sealed the wound and stopped the bleeding.
Again she considered the dagger in his shoulder, then stood up,
folding her wings again, and glanced around at the dead forest.

"Your
mortality hides you, but I can hide you better."

Raising her
arms, she moved around him with slow, graceful steps. Skeins of
shining thread appeared where her hands passed through the air,
gathering upon each other, creating a silken cocoon about him,
which gave off a soft light. When she had sealed the cocoon above
them, she returned to his side and knelt there again, gazing down
at him.

"That means
he's dead, doesn't it?" Mithran demanded.

"No, not
necessarily." Kayos shook his head. "He might only be
unconscious."

"Please find
him! Help him!" Mirra cried.

An Eye
appeared before Kayos, showing the dark, skeletal remains of a dead
forest. Kayos adjusted the focus. "That is odd," he muttered. "It
cannot find him."

"Would it
still find him if he was dead?" Mirra asked.

"Yes."

"What is it
then?"

Kayos shook
his head. "Someone has intervened. I will go to the light realm and
speak to the Oracle. I must find him quickly. I will take you to a
temple where you will be safe."

"Please hurry,
My Lord."

Chapter Ten

Angel

Kayos walked
through the Forever City, the translucent forms of souls stepping
from his path, many turning to gaze after him. A maze of broad,
tree-lined roads stretched away on all sides, intersected by
swathes of rolling mist lawn and banks of star flowered cloud. The
buildings reflected the various cultures of the Lightworld's many
people, who dwelt within them. Here all was elevated to its highest
form, so that even the ugliest construction, which in the
Lightworld was truly hideous, had beauty. Here too, every house of
the dead was recreated in flawless detail, save for the change of
its substance to cloud, stars and diamond sand.

Areas of
cloudiness hinted at fantasy landscapes within them, vast lakes
upon which souls rowed idle boats and sang soft songs, or drifted
through the mists in the company of their friends. In other places,
the mists hid landscapes of green with brightly coloured flowers
more beautiful than any found in the mid-realm, created to satisfy
the souls' longing for their former home. The souls of beasts dwelt
with their friends, playing with them beneath the rainbow-shot
clouds. He was tempted to ask one if a god had entered the Forever
City, but a strange god did not make his presence known amongst the
dead of the resident deity, such a thing was frowned upon.

Instead he
headed for the city's centre, where a tall, glimmering minaret
marked the Oracle's presence. His feet glided along the shining
road, carrying him faster than the wandering souls. He could not
Move to an Oracle, since it did not exist at a fixed point in time
and space. The only way to approach one was to walk to its visible
presence. The Oracle waited, and he sensed its welcome touch him
with its whispering thoughts, echoes of the wisdom of the ages
trapped within it.

As he arrived
at the towering minaret's alabaster wall, a door formed in it.
Within, a diffuse golden light filled a vast chamber, and he
traversed the echoing star field that floored it like an expanse of
blackness upon which countless diamonds had been scattered. This
was the source of white fire about which the domain had been
created. The Oracle had once been a realm seed, which Drayshina had
transformed into an object of infinite power. It contained all the
history and knowledge of the domain from the moment of its
creation, and the domains it had been before.

Kayos stopped
before it and gazed upon the rainbow helix it had chosen to
resemble, twisting as it turned, mesmerising to its beholder. He
spoke, knowing he uttered the words although he could not hear
them.

"Has the soul
of a god entered the Forever this day?"

The echo of
the answer came before the word itself, as was usual for an Oracle.
"No."

"Where is the
tar'merin?"

"In the
Lightworld."

Kayos frowned.
For the Oracle to be so vague could only mean that something
prevented it from giving details. "Who hides him?"

"Syrin."

His frown
deepened. "Why did she come?"

"He
called."

"Why does she
hide him?"

"He is in
danger."

Kayos sighed
in frustration. The Oracle only spoke the purest truth, which was
sometimes irritatingly useless. Only a carefully phrased question
would garner more information, anything badly thought out would
receive repetition. Kayos turned and strode out of the chamber,
leaving the Oracle to its endless turning as it soaked up the
domain's information. Outside, he Moved, reappearing beside the
gazebo in the light realm. He entered it and sat on the couch,
pondering the Oracle's information.

For a being
such as Syrin to hide a dark god was unusual, and it made finding
him extremely difficult, impossible for an ordinary light god. He
was a Grey God, however, and more than that, he was Kayos, from
whom all things had sprung. He stretched out on the couch and
created an Eye.

It showed a
fire-walled city, and he changed the view to a dense tract of
gloomy forest beneath the burning sky. Taking hold of the edges of
the Eye, he bent his will upon it, and its image wavered, then
changed to a swirling mass of colour and formless texture. He
looked back into the chaos from which all things had been formed,
marking the tracks of the gods who had tamed it, Ordur's glimmering
trail most obvious. He read the patterns within it as only he
could, searching for a blank spot that would indicate the presence
of the being he sought.

Syrin raised
her head and gazed up at the cocoon's glowing roof, a smile curling
her pale lips. "Kayos seeks you. Hail the Grey God, Master of
Chaos, most powerful of the Seven. He shall not find you."

She gestured,
and the cocoon's glow dimmed to a dull grey, then looked down at
Bane. "He thinks Ordur is his equal, but it is not so. No, Kayos is
greater, for it was he who unravelled the nothingness and set it
into motion, who created all that the others moulded. Ordur led
them, but he alone did not do it. And Kayos was the only one who
did not have a hand in our creation. He had the wisdom to oppose
the others, if not the power to stop them. They created us, their
chosen ones, the first people, their big mistake."

While she
spoke, her eyes wandered around the enclosure. When she glanced
down at the dark god again, she received a shock. He had opened his
eyes, and frowned at her.

"Who are
you?"

"I am Syrin.
You asked for my help."

"I do not
recall doing that." He tried to sit up, but flopped back with a
grunt. "You have not helped much."

"I am not a
healer, tar'merin. I stopped the bleeding and saved your life, but
I can do no more." She gestured to the glowing cocoon around them.
"I have hidden you from your enemies."

Bane glanced
at the dagger hilt protruding from his shoulder and grimaced. His
eyes flicked back to Syrin and wandered over her, lingering on her
face. "You are a creature of the light. Why would you help a dark
god?"

"You are
tar'merin."

Bane sat up,
his jaw muscles bulging as he gritted his teeth.

Syrin said,
"You should rest."

"I have to get
this dagger out. Why did you not at least remove it while I was
unconscious?"

"I am not
strong enough."

"Can you stop
the bleeding if I pull it out?"

"Yes."

Bane reached
up and yanked the dagger free, swaying as his vision darkened. A
light touch on his shoulder told him that Syrin tended the wound,
covering it with gossamer threads. By the time he had recovered,
she had finished and sat back again, her hands folded in her lap.
Bane studied her.

A tattered
raiment that appeared to have been spun from glittering cobwebs
clad her slight, willowy form. Her shining visage held the serenity
of the ages and a child's innocence. Childlike too, in its
appearance, her features refined beyond all trace of humanity, as
pale as snow, delicate and ethereal. Gossamer skeins of flaxen hair
floated about her shoulders, and eyes as blue as a summer sky
glimmered within frames of dusky lashes. Vast, snowy wings were
raised over her back, their long pinions almost brushing the
ground.

"What are
you?"

She laughed, a
musical trill that reminded him of Lyriasharin. "Ignorant indeed,
for a god."

"I am new at
it." His eyes glinted. "And I do not like guessing games."

"You think to
frighten me, Demon Lord?"

"How do you
know my name?"

"I know
everything about you, for I have touched you. And you cannot
frighten me."

Bane glared at
her. "Since you are here to help me, find Kayos and bring him here
so he can heal me."

"You will
heal, in time."

"Not soon
enough. Are you here to help me or not?"

"I am, but it
does not mean you may command me."

He glanced
around. "You hide me from my ally as well as my enemy, and, since
you cannot heal me, it is his help I need. If you do not reveal my
presence to him, or bring him here, I shall burn this - this
structure of yours away so he can find me."