Demon Lord VII - Dark Domain (6 page)

“Reaching
terminal velocity,” the pilot stated in a strangled voice.

Sarjan, whose
feet remained on the floor thanks to his white-knuckled grip on the
edge of the console behind him, stared at Bane with pleading eyes.
“You can stop us, right?”

“And if I do
not? What do you believe happens to the dead?”

“They rot in
their graves.”

“How sad for
you to think such depressing thoughts and have such fear of death
when in fact it is a merely transition to a different state of
being.”

“You can stop
us, can’t you?” Sarjan’s eyes bulged as the ship plummeted through
a layer of cloud.

“You would be
of no use to me flattened in a metal pancake.”

The pilot
yelled, “Commander, we’re going to hit in thirty seconds!”

“Do something!”
Sarjan shouted.

Bane shot him a
hard look, raised his head and clenched his hands. Sarjan and his
officers hit the floor with thuds and grunts, flattened upon it as
gravity returned tenfold. The crushing force lasted for several
seconds, then eased, and Bane opened his hands.

Sarjan climbed
to his feet and frowned at the screen that showed the pilot tapping
keys on his console, and the engines’ hum returned. Bane released
the ship, which drifted down to settle upon its repelling field.
The scene on the main screen was a muddy meadow populated by a herd
of somewhat bedraggled brown cattle, which ignored the craft, so it
was evidently still invisible.

“We’re in
Bayona,” Sarjan said in patent amazement.

“Naturally.”
Bane waved his hands, dispersing the columns of shadow. “Fly to
this dictator’s location and see him with your instruments.”

Sarjan gave the
order to the console beside him, which replied in a tinny, choked
voice.

As the scenery
on the screen moved past, Bane asked, “Why is it that your other
ships can fly to and from the light realm, but this one
cannot?”

The commander
hesitated, perhaps reluctant to divulge technical information to
the enemy, then said, “This ship is equipped with four blue light
generators that power the mirror shields, which make it invisible
by bending light. The generators also power the translocation unit
and shredder room, but they make the ship too heavy for the ion
stream engine to do anything more than push it along on its
antigravity field. The weight to power ratio is way off, and, no
matter how big we make the ion stream engine, its weight in
addition to the blue light generators is too much. The mirror
shield generators provide the power for the ion streamer and
anti-gravity, so if we’re invisible it slows us down even
more.”

“I see.” Bane
settled upon the console once more. “How long will it take to get
to this... Vockroy?”

“A few hours.
Four, I think.”

“So it is not
far from your land.”

“We share a
border.”

“Does this
Parsimon try to invade your country as well?”

Sarjan nodded,
leaning on the console behind him. “He’s been trying to for years,
but we hold him at the border.”

Bane gazed at
the big screen, where cultivated fields, muddy meadows, hedges and
winding roads passed beneath the ship. Only a few birds and
domestic animals populated the countryside, and brown streams
flowed into bubbling, stagnant lakes. Wandering patches of sunlight
probed through the brownish-grey cloud cover. The vessel headed
straight across the drab terrain, picking up speed until it moved
at a fair pace. Within half an hour, they left the rural setting
and entered a more built up area, flying over dwellings and belts
of orderly woodland.

A city similar
to the one outside the gate came into view in the distance, a
conglomeration of shining towers covered with dark or reflective
glass. Further away, tall chimneys belched smoke and steam into the
smoggy sky. The streams of flying traffic travelled mostly in and
around the city, with occasional vehicles crossing to the
residential and industrial districts. Bane found the view
depressing. Never had he seen a domain so corrupted by its human
population, and had not thought people would commit such foolish
plunder of the resources they depended upon to survive. For all
their cleverness in some ways, in other ways these people were
amazingly stupid.

He stood up. “I
shall leave you now. Do as I have commanded. I will be
watching.”

Sarjan nodded,
and Bane headed for the back of the room, where Kayos enveloped him
in the light shield once more.

He smiled, his
silver eyes twinkling. “This is a good plan. We might be able to
defeat all three dark gods with this ship.”

Bane leant
against the wall. “Perhaps.” He jerked his chin at the screen.
“Look what they have done to Sherinias’ domain.”

Kayos nodded.
“Shameful. The domain will have to be restored, and beasts that
have been lost recreated, but she will not have the power to do
that until she is mature.”

“You could do
it.”

“It would not
be right.”

“I suppose
not,” Bane said. “Although, at the rate they are destroying it,
this world might not survive for another two hundred years.”

“No, it will,
but the people might not. If it becomes too bad, Sherinias will
have to create a haven for a few and let the rest die. It will make
her sad.”

Bane summoned a
cup of ambrosia, and they settled down to wait, listening to Sarjan
issuing orders and receiving reports from his crew. The commander
and his officers often glanced at the back of the room where Bane
stood, but clearly did not dare to try to find out whether he was
still there. Bane watched the changing landscape on the main
screen, wondering how these people could bear to live in such a
foul world. Then again, they did not have much choice.

Chapter
Three

Destroyer

Governor
Predoran scowled at Major Ranjal, who stood in front of his desk,
head bowed, fiddling with his data recorder. A haze of blue smoke
hung in the air and cracks crazed the floor to ceiling windows
behind him. The governor clasped his hands to hide their shaking
after the shock and terror of the explosions that had ripped
through nearby buildings. By some miracle, the tower in which his
office was located had survived relatively unscathed, just a bit
cracked by the vibrations that had shaken it barely an hour
ago.

Predoran turned
his attention to the wall-mounted vidscreen on his right, which
showed an aerial view of the Great Gate and the devastation in
front of it. The burning wrecks of the fleet lay crushed on
cratered streets, and ruined buildings belched flames and black
smoke. The destruction spanned the city in straight lines that
angled from the gate, and some of the surviving structures leant
drunkenly, on the verge of collapse. People ran through the ruins
in panic-stricken mobs, trying to flee the city. Parts of the fire
dome had been destroyed, and the blue shield now had gaps in it,
while the remainder flickered and swirled. In the foreground, a
pale-faced reporter with glazed eyes shouted into his microphone,
repeating his narrative over and over in a cracked voice.

“We are all
still stunned by what has taken place here in Sarlan City. The
attack on the Great Gate brought retaliation from the ancient
weapons located around it, and the destruction to the city is
significant. Fortunately, this news crew was not caught by the
weapons, and…”

Predoran pushed
the mute button on his remote control. “Well?”

Major Ranjal
looked up. “The entire fleet was destroyed, sir. As yet, no
survivors have been found. Estimated dead in the city is fifteen
thousand. Two ships that were not sent to the gate were also hit.
One was destroyed, the other badly damaged. All we have left is one
destroyer and two frigates. And, of course, three stealth ships,
two of which are away on missions.”

“What the hell
happened?”

“From the
vidfeeds we’ve received, it seems our attack activated those
weapons. The gate was only chipped a little.”

Predoran
glowered at him. “So now it’s closed again, and we’ve lost our
fleet. Tell me the stealth ship we sent inside has reported the
death of that damned dra’voren.”

“We lost
contact when the gate closed, and at that time, they were still in
pursuit.”

“Good. Let’s
hope they succeed, at least.”

Ranjal
consulted his data recorder. “Sir, some of our science advisors
have pointed out that if we destroy this dra’voren, no one will be
able to open the gate.”

“We’ll work it
out somehow. Either we’ll find a way to open it or a weapon that
will destroy it. We’ve got plenty of good scientists to work on the
problem.”

“Yes sir.”

Predoran faced
the screen. “Keep me apprised.”

Major Ranjal
saluted and left.

Bane shifted to
ease an ache in one leg, and stretched it, watching the observation
room’s main screen. Sarjan had spent most of the flight on the
bridge, then had made his way down to the observation room two
hours ago, when the stealth ship had passed close to a vast
military base where rows of war craft were parked on cratered
concrete aprons and battle-scarred weaponry pointed at the skies,
ready to defend against airborne enemies. Bane and Kayos had
followed, resuming their vigil at the back of the room. On the far
side of the outpost, which Bane assumed was close to the border
with Vockroy, ugly square buildings housed off duty troops and
field hospitals tended to the injured soldiers who were transported
from distant battlegrounds in rescue vehicles.

Cargo ships
ferried in supplies and carried away the dead for their grieving
families to bury. There had been no aerial combat in progress at
the time, but the myriad wrecks that littered the torn ground
around the encampment told of a surfeit of such conflicts in the
past. Somewhere, probably deep in Bayonan territory, battle-bitter
veterans must be preparing hordes of fresh soldiers in training
camps, and factories produced the warships necessary to fight this
war, also well-defended against enemy attack. Evidently the
conflict between Bayona and Vockroy had been raging for quite some
time, and an entire industry had sprung up to feed the war machine.
This was just the sort of situation a dark god revelled in, and in
this world, with its billions of people and advanced technology,
Parsimon and his cohorts could watch the action from the comfort of
their luxury residences, doubtless whilst enjoying the attentions
of pretty girls and indulging in some of the death and torture
themselves.

Now the stealth
ship sailed over another area of dense housing, parts of which
seemed to be abandoned. A vast city lay ahead, a sprawling concrete
scab that looked like it needed to be scratched off. The ship
slowed as it neared the metropolis, which, despite the bustling
throngs of humanity that jammed its streets, had an air of neglect,
as if its past had been more prosperous. Its far edge bounded a
foul lake wreathed in pale vapour that hung about its oily surface
like a noxious blanket.

Yellow and red
flags draped walls and flagpoles with garish colour, paying homage
to the rabid dictator who drove his people to war and poverty to
feed his lust for suffering. As the ship entered the city’s crowded
airspace, it flew lower to avoid the traffic, the officers
concentrating on their instruments. They wound between the towering
buildings, air cars zipping past as they descended to land in the
city.

A screen on
Sarjan’s console came to life, filled with the pilot’s worried
face. “Sir, it’s too dangerous to fly through the city in stealth
mode. One of those vehicles could hit us.”

Sarjan glanced
at the back of the room, then faced the screen again. “Keep
going.”

“Yes sir.”

Bane raised a
brow at Kayos, who inclined his head, his eyes becoming distant for
a moment.

Within a few
minutes of the pilot’s warning, an air car headed straight for the
stealth ship, veering off at the last moment as Kayos’ shield
deflected it. The tension rose, and some crewmen darted nervous
glances at the back of the observation room.

An obstech
said, “Presidential palace dead ahead sir.”

“Scanners on,”
Sarjan ordered.

“Sir, are we
really going to assassinate President Parsimon?”

“If he’s a
dra’voren, yes. That’s what we do.”

“Except when we
take orders from one,” another obstech muttered.

Sarjan glared
at the crewman. “I didn’t see that we had too many options, did
you?”

“We’re clearing
the way for him to rule us, sir.”

“Just until we
hunt him down, too; he’s done us a favour, bringing a stealth ship
into the world.”

“He’ll probably
destroy the ship when he’s finished with us.”

“Then we’ll
build another one,” the commander said.

“Sir, look at
this!”

Sarjan went
over to the senior obstech’s station and peered at his screen with
a frown. “Fiends. Bloody hell, there’s a lot of them.”

“Why don’t the
people see them?”

“Maybe they’re
invisible.”

“Or they look
human.”

Sarjan
straightened, staring at the screen. “It must be because Parsimon
is a dra’voren.”

“If they look
like people, they could be everywhere. There could be some on the
ship.”

Sarjan shook
his head. “There can’t be, or they’d have destroyed it long
ago.”

“I thought they
were all destroyed by the first stealth ship; the one that was
built in Bayona.”

“Apparently
not.”

The obstech
looked up at Sarjan. “There are enough of them down there to keep a
flotilla of stealth ships busy for decades.”

“Let’s
concentrate on getting rid of the dra’voren first.”