Demon Lord VI - Son of Chaos (6 page)

The sphere
would unravel, and Kayos could not raise his shields until it had
completely dispersed, a few seconds when he would be vulnerable. He
could not counter the deactivation either, since once it had
accepted the key’s command, he would lose control of it. His only
other choice was to Move as soon as the sphere began to unravel,
but then he had no idea where he would end up, and Bane would never
be able to find him. Torvaran would follow, and the battle would be
resumed. The spacial distortion caused by a Move lasted for only a
few seconds, so Bane would not be able to follow it. If Kayos
landed in a dark region, he was doomed.

Kayos touched
the sphere’s wall, sensing its unique pattern, which was tuned to
his power. If he could change it, he would delay the sensitising of
the key, but he had not tried to do that before, and was not sure
that he could. The sphere’s pattern had solidified when it had, and
in order to change it he would have to unravel it slightly,
weakening it for that brief moment before it solidified again.

Closing his
eyes, he bowed his head and concentrated, taking hold of the ward
patterns within the sphere’s structure. When he had them in his
mental grasp, he commanded the sphere to unravel. It pulsed, and,
in the instant when it became tenuous, he gave the ward patterns a
tug. They changed, and he commanded the sphere to solidify. It
pulsed again, the ward patterns becoming visible briefly, then it
hardened. Kayos slumped against the wall, swamped with relief. A
thud on the sphere’s side told him that Torvaran had kicked it in
frustration, and he smiled.

Chapter Three

Healer

Nikira stared
through the observation window at the strange tableau in the
shredder room. Drevarin lay upon a second cloud couch beside the
tar’merin’s, and ropes of white power connected them. She had got a
few hours’ sleep with the aid of a pill, which she had taken when
she had realised that the excitement of recent events would not
allow her to sleep, despite her exhaustion.

Spectators
packed the containment room, and a vidfeed was being sent to all
the recreation rooms in the ship. Drontar and his cronies stood in
a group near the window, muttering and making notes on word
recorders. Nikira made her way through the crowd and entered the
shredder room, her mind seething with questions. The angel still
sat on the floor, apparently asleep, and she wondered if he would
answer some of them. She stopped before him and knelt, and his eyes
opened, flicking over her.

“
May I ask you some questions?”

He inclined
his head. “You may.”

“
I’m sorry for what we did to you earlier. We didn’t know what
you were.”

“
That is not a question.”

Nikira bit her
lip. He was not going to accept her apology. As Drevarin had said,
what they had done was unforgiveable. She glanced at the creator.
“What’s he doing?”

“
Healing the tar’merin.”

“
But it’s taking so long.”

The angel’s
grey eyes flicked to the creator, then back to her. “Yes. Drevarin
is young, and not terribly powerful. He has taken it upon himself
to restore the strength of one who, judging by the time it is
taking, vastly outranks him. He also seeks the damage done by the
shackles that were placed upon the tar’merin, and he lacks the
experience to accomplish such a difficult task swiftly.”

“
How can a man be more powerful than a creator?”

“
Flesh is no constraint to power. That depends upon his will,
and spirit. Also, the Demon Lord is not merely a man. He is a
mortal god.”

She looked
down at her hands, finding his direct gaze unnerving. “How did you
know he was a tar’merin?”

“
No servant of the dark power can summon an angel. The Demon
Lord’s soul is pure, yet he bears the rune scars used to command
the dark power and its unmistakeable imprint upon his flesh. When I
touched him, I learnt much about him, including the fact that he is
tar’merin.”

“
You can see souls?”

He shook his
head. “I can see auras, which are the emanation of souls, and from
that I know whether or not a soul is pure. It is a gift that was
given to us when we were created, one of several.”

“
Like the ability to become invisible.”

“
Precisely.”

Nikira
hesitated, raising her gaze to study his finely moulded
countenance. “How can we... make restitution for what we did to him
out of ignorance?”

His eyes
drifted to the tar’merin. “Beg his forgiveness, offer him your aid
and loyalty, swear to obey his every command and throw yourself
upon his mercy.”

“
Will that work?”

“
It is impossible to predict a dark god, but I would recommend
that you do it before he regains his power. Since you are the
leader of these people, you could also offer your life to spare the
rest.”

Nikira’s heart
sank. “Do angels help people, or only gods?”

“
Mostly we help people. Gods rarely require our
aid.”

“
Could you... help us?”

His brows
rose. “If he chooses to punish you? Perhaps.”

“
Thank you.” She hesitated. “I also beg your forgiveness, for
what we did to you out of ignorance and fear. It was...
shameful.”

“
You will have to be far more eloquent than that when you beg
for the Demon Lord’s forgiveness. I hope that is not the best you
can do. I know your people are godless, and I pity you. I will
accept your plea.” He paused, considering. “I would also recommend
that you return the Demon Lord’s clothes before he awakens. You
have affronted his dignity enough.”

“
Yes, of course.” Nikira stood up, hesitated, then made a
stiff, awkward bow to him and left the shredder room on shaking
legs. When she glanced back, the angel had closed his eyes and
resumed his placid pose. Grabbing the nearest contech, she dragged
him to the door and sent him to find the tar’merin’s clothes, with
instructions to clean and repair them as well.

Drevarin
searched Bane’s flesh again, fatigue hindering him. Although he
drew in light power to replace what he expended, the process was
exhausting due to its complex nature. Revitalising a normal man
would have been a lengthy, though not arduous process, but Bane
consumed power at an unprecedented rate, and as yet there was
little improvement. He wondered if he had taken on a greater task
than he could accomplish, but even if he could not restore Bane
completely, what he had done would help.

Once more he
sent the light into the Demon Lord, searching for that elusive
something that weakened him. His tiredness made him blunder, and
the questing light brushed against Bane’s soul, causing it to flare
in defence. Drevarin snatched the finger of light away, but not
before he sensed something that made him tense with horror.
Flinching, he sent the light back, brushing against the same spot
as before, and again Bane’s soul flared. Drevarin had his answer,
however, and it frightened him.

When the dark
power had been trapped within Bane’s flesh, it had sought many ways
to release itself. It had wrought havoc upon his body and mind, but
it had also attacked the bonds between his flesh and spirit.
Ultimately, that would have killed him, and now the bond was
gravely weakened. Drevarin writhed, uncertain of what to do next,
for healing the damage around Bane’s soul would endanger both of
them.

One wrong move
would release the Demon Lord’s spirit, and the backlash of its
unleashing would have grave repercussions for Drevarin while they
were linked. He relaxed, pondering the problem. His link to a soul
so much more powerful than his own was daunting enough; to try to
heal it was terrifying. This was something that only a Grey God
should attempt.

Opening his
eyes, he sat up, allowing the conduits of power between them to
fade. Swinging his legs off the couch, he stared at the wall, his
mind seething. He summoned a cup of ambrosia and drank from it, his
exhaustion abating somewhat. The woman, Nikira, appeared in the
doorway and performed a stiff bow that only irked him.

As she opened
her mouth to speak, he said, “Get out.”

She retreated,
her eyes wide, and he slammed the door in her face, then turned to
Tryne. “I require your aid, Tryne.”

The angel
opened his eyes and stood up, coming to stand before him, looking a
little smug. “What do you wish, Lord?”

“
At least two more of you.”

Tryne tilted
his head. “What great feat requires three angels?”

Drevarin
glanced at Bane. “I must touch his spirit.”

The angel’s
eyes widened. “Just how powerful is he, Lord?”

“
Hard to tell, but let me put it to you this way: all the time
I have spent restoring him has not put back even a tenth of his
energy.”

“
And three of us will be sufficient?”

Drevarin
sipped his ambrosia. “All I require of you is to anchor me, so if
it goes wrong and his spirit is freed, it will not draw mine after
it.”

“
Must you heal it?”

“
If I do not, the dark power will attack the weakness as soon
as he Gathers it. Evil abhors frailty, that is why he is so strong.
He has adapted so he could wield more and more, but now he has a
fatal flaw. Eventually it will kill him, unless he never uses his
power again.”

Tryne nodded.
“Then he must be healed. I will call upon two of my kin. He will
owe the favours.”

“
No, I will take them on.”

“
As you wish, My Lord.”

Tryne turned
and stepped into the air, leaving Drevarin to sip his ambrosia and
ponder the dangerous task ahead.

Nikira paced
around next to the shredder room window, anxious about the reason
for Drevarin’s rebuff. How had she offended him now? Would he ever
speak to her again, or had he shunned her? Had he finished healing
the tar’merin, or was he just taking a break? How much longer would
it take? Why did he now keep them locked out of the room? Had
something gone wrong? The possibility that Drevarin would not be
able to save the tar’merin made her cringe inwardly with shame. If
that happened, the people in the hold would riot. Why did she have
to be the one to capture this man who appeared to be a dra’voren,
but was in fact so highly valued by creators that one had actually
come to save him? Remembering Ethra, still locked in a cabin, she
ordered a nearby contech to fetch the girl.

The contech
returned looking cross and dishevelled, gripping Ethra’s wrist in
one hand and a sharpened plastic spoon in the other. Nikira smiled
at the girl’s ingenuity, for she had clearly been using the spoon
to try to escape, and probably to attack the contech as well. Ethra
wore a thunderous scowl, her arms reddened where she had scuffled
with the man, who had been unable to explain the situation while
they were away from Bane. When she spotted the scene in the
shredder room, she jerked free of her captor and ran to the window,
elbowing aside contechs and scientists with no regard for their
rank.

“
Who is he?” she asked when Nikira reached her side.

“
His name’s Drevarin. An angel summoned him.”

“
Angels don’t summon gods.”

“
Well, asked for his help then.”

Ethra shot her
a worried glance. “Is Bane going to be all right?”

“
Drevarin’s healing him.”

“
He looks better, so why is he still asleep?”

Nikira shook
her head. “I don’t know.”

“
I want to go in there.”

“
Drevarin won’t let anyone in.”

Ethra gazed
through the window for several minutes, her eyes bright with tears.
“I must tell the others.”

Nikira ordered
the contech to take Ethra down to the hold and reunite her with her
group, then settled down to resume her vigil. Moments later, she
jumped up with a gasp that was echoed by everyone in the room as
three angels stepped from the air beside Drevarin and bowed to him.
One of the newcomers was a man with curly chestnut hair and slanted
hazel eyes, the other a willowy woman with red locks and green
eyes, and the third was the one who had left earlier. They all
possessed the same ethereal grace and wore the same tattered silken
garb.

“
Good grief,” Drontar muttered. “Are they having a
convention?”

A qualm passed
through Drevarin now that his task was at hand, and he waved away
his cup of ambrosia. The newcomers appeared to be older than Tryne,
but with angels it was hard to tell.

Tryne said,
“These are Lyris and Pryad, Lord.”

“
You have explained the task?”

“
Yes, Lord.”

“
Good, let us begin.”

Drevarin lay
down on his couch, and the angels came to stand beside him, each
laying a hand upon his chest. Closing his eyes, he permitted
himself to sink back into the semi-sleep that allowed him to guide
the white power deep within Bane. When he had achieved the required
state and schooled himself to serenity, he reformed the conduits of
light between them.

Once more he
sent the light into the Demon Lord, seeking the place where the
damage lay, his every instinct warning him away. He had considered
sending Tryne to seek a Grey God, but the odds of finding one
within a decade were slim, even for an angel, or a dozen angels,
for that matter. He had also considered allowing Bane to recover so
he could find Kayos, but if he was embattled he would not be able
to help. This was the only option, yet he longed to shy away from
it. Steeling himself for the backlash, he sent a filament of power
into the shimmering greyness that was the damaged area. Bane’s soul
flared, its power washing through Drevarin in a wave of white-hot
energy, and he writhed.