Demon Lord VII - Dark Domain (7 page)

Bane glanced at
Kayos. “If I destroy a few demons, do you suppose they will trust
me?”

“Probably
not.”

The Demon Lord
sighed and sipped his ambrosia. “What fools they are.”

Sarjan gazed at
the main screen, where a geometrically designed building clad
almost entirely in mirror glass grew larger. “Do we know if
President Parsimon is in residence?”

“If he’s a
dra’voren, we’ll soon find out,” an obstech replied.

“Find out
now.”

“Yes sir.” The
man tapped keys on his console and read the glowing screen.
“According to the latest intelligence reports, he’s here.”

“Do a full scan
of the building.”

A minute
passed, then the obstech said, “A lot of fiends inside, and
something else. It appears to be in the basement, a source of dark
power. Even more fiends down there.”

“Keep
scanning.”

A beeping alarm
broke the hush, and everyone jumped. The senior obstech said,
“There! He’s in the east wing, top floor, with several fiends.”

“His office,”
Sarjan said. “So, the dra’voren was right.” He sat at an empty
station and keyed a device Bane now knew was a communications’
relay. “Pilot, target area is the east wing, top floor.”

“There’s a
dra’voren in there?” the pilot’s surprised voice enquired.

“Yes. It’s in
President Parsimon’s office.”

“Right.”

The ship
drifted around the building, turning as it did so, its bow pointing
at the east wing of the structure. Flying vehicles zipped past, a
few swerving to avoid the ship their pilots could not see. The
chief obstech leant closer to his screen, his eyes intent.

“Pilot, pass
control to the observation room,” Sarjan ordered.

“Yes sir. You
have control.”

Sarjan typed on
his keyboard, glancing often at his scanner screen, which showed
the location of the dra’voren. Bane went over to stand behind him,
and Kayos joined him. Glowing green crosshairs inched towards a
black form on the scanner screen, which appeared to be seated in a
chair.

Sarjan keyed
the com-unit again. “Containment, prepare for capture.”

“Generators
online, sir.”

The crosshairs
reached their target, and stopped. Sarjan’s hand hung poised over a
red button for a moment, then he pushed it. On the main screen, a
flash of blue light came from the upper floor window of the
building, and the black form on the scanner screen vanished.

Sarjan leapt up
and dashed to the lift doors. Bane and Kayos took a more direct
route through the floor, and arrived in the containment room well
ahead of the commander. The containment techs crowded around the
shredder room window, staring at the lean, well-built man who was
sprawled on the floor. His silver hair and charismatic,
noble-featured face were designed to inspire confidence and respect
in minions. Gold braid, epaulettes and medals adorned his rather
gaudy red military uniform.

Bane said to
Kayos, “This one uses a glamour.”

“He would look
out of place otherwise.”

Sarjan burst in
and hurried over to peer through the window.

A contech shot
him a startled look. “That’s President Parsimon, sir!”

“I know. He’s a
dra’voren. Shred him.”

The crewman
tapped keys on his console, and the lodestones emerged from their
niches as the oscillating light guns warmed up, glowing, then spun.
Blue light shot from them, growing more intense until the room was
filled with slashing lines of brilliance, forcing Bane and Kayos to
look away. Sarjan donned a pair of dark goggles, as did some of the
contechs.

The senior
obstech stated, “His form’s breaking down.”

Bane glanced at
the man’s screen, where the black form shredded as the light guns
tore it apart and the lodestones drew off its power. After a few
minutes, it vanished.

“Shred
complete, sir,” the contech said, tapping keys on his control
board.

The light guns
shut off, and Sarjan removed his goggles, turning to face the men.
“Good job. One less dra’voren to lay waste to worlds.”

They grinned,
and Bane nodded to Kayos, who withdrew his light shield and allowed
the Demon Lord to reappear.

“Good work,”
Bane said, and Sarjan whipped around with an oath. His men recoiled
with muttered curses and apprehensive expressions. “You have
defeated him, not destroyed him,” Bane explained. “Your machine
stripped away his dark form, and his spirit has flown to the Land
of the Dead until he can Gather enough power to rise again.”

“How do you
know that?” Sarjan demanded.

“I have
defeated several, although not with such ease. Your machines are
ingenious.”

“You have the
power to destroy worlds, yet our machines can defeat a dra’voren
more easily than you can? Why is that?”

“When I attack
one, he tends to fight back,” Bane said. “Your stunner gives you an
advantage.”

“You can become
invisible. Why can’t you knock them unconscious?”

Bane shook his
head. “We can still sense each other, very slightly. I might get
close before he became aware of me, but I doubt I could hit him
hard enough to render him senseless. It is not that easy. Your
machine uses some sort of force wave?”

“It’s an
amplified low frequency concussion pulse.”

Bane spread his
hands, making the contechs tense. “Alas, I cannot do that, but, as
I recall, it is extremely effective. It rendered me senseless for
many hours.”

“It only knocks
them out for a few minutes.”

“That is
because they do not have mortal bodies. In fact, it is the droge
shell that makes them susceptible, since it confines a dark form
and compresses it.” Bane shrugged. “At least, I think so. Your
stunners would not work on a dra’voren in his dark form, if I am
right.”

“That’s... good
to know.”

“It is doubtful
that you will ever trap a dra’voren in his dark form, Commander.
They rarely venture out of the dark realm without a droge
body.”

Sarjan was
clearly fascinated. “Why’s that?”

“Sunlight will
strip away a dark form in a few minutes, just as your blue light
stripped away his droge shell. They may go abroad at night, but
generally they prefer to wear a droge body, since they were once
mortal men who were damned to the dark realm and Gathered the power
to leave the Land of the Dead and make themselves into dark
gods.”

Sarjan eyed
him. “But you’re mortal, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How did that
happen?”

“I was changed
by a dark god before he tore me from my mother’s womb and forced me
to take up the dark power.”

“I see.” Sarjan
looked around at the gawping contechs. “So the shredder room won’t
destroy you?”

“No. It will
only strip away my power, as it did on Nikira’s ship.” Bane
indicated the blank green scanner screen. “The dark beings you saw
in the city were not all demons. Many, probably most, were droges,
condemned spirits granted the power to form a body by their master,
a dark god. They look just like people, as do the demons.”

“Why are you
telling me this?”

“I am trying to
help you, Sarjan. We are on the same side, whether you believe it
or not.”

“Are there
fiends aboard my ship?”

Bane inclined
his head. “Probably, but droges are more common in a world that is
inhabited by dark gods.”

“Could you...
get rid of them?”

“Certainly.” He
glanced at the back of the room, where a contech dived behind a
console. Making a casual gesture, Bane muttered, “
Thorack
nadure
.”

The man
shrieked as his droge form was rescinded. A few wisps of grey smoke
rose from behind the console, and the crewman’s yells stopped,
leaving a deathly hush. The rest of the men shrank back, and two
drew their weapons, then thought better of it and holstered them
again. Sarjan strode around the console and searched in vain for
his crewman before looking up at Bane.

“He was a
droge,” Bane said.

“He was a
damned good contech. He’s worked on this ship for years. Why would
he do that?”

“They long to
practise their debauchery and evil amongst the living, and they are
the minions of the dark god who gave them their body. They are
spies, or instigators, who go amongst the people to spread lies and
dissent, or they commit heinous acts that their sponsor enjoys
watching.”

Bane shrugged
again. “I am not an authority on droges, since I have never granted
a condemned soul a form, nor do I employ them. Mostly, they are
given base forms, that have no feeling, and they try to earn a
better body that can feel pleasure by committing terrible deeds
that please their master. Dark gods seldom grant this, since they
enjoy their minions’ misery just as much as they do the pain of the
innocent people who suffer at their hands. Still, the false
promises drive the droges, although they also enjoy inflicting
torture. What they have is a parody of life, but far better than
being trapped in the Land of the Dead, so they do whatever they
must to earn a droge form.”

“Why would he
live and work as one of us? He did nothing evil.”

“That you know
of. What he did in his private time is anyone’s guess.”

Sarjan looked
around at the rest of the contechs. “Was he the only one here?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll believe
you if you find me another droge, but this time don’t kill him. I
want to examine him.”

“Then you will
believe I am not a dra’voren?”

“No, then I’ll
believe he was a droge.”

Bane smiled.
“You are a hard man to convince. This is a waste of my time, but I
will do it in the interest of fostering better relations. Droges
are far stronger than men, so when I capture him, you will have to
find a way to restrain him, or your people will be injured. Your
weapons will not harm him, although the ones that use blue light
will do some damage. And I did not kill anyone, Sarjan. He was
already dead.”

“All these men
underwent physical examinations before they could become crewmen.
Is a droge body exactly like a mortal one?”

“No, but you
will find that another droge helped them; one who was the examiner,
or perhaps a demon possessed the examiner in order for the droges
to pass the test.”

Sarjan swore
and swung away, going to the door, where he turned. “Will you do it
now?”

Bane followed
him, the contechs sidling away as he passed. Sarjan’s interest in
droges seemed to have distracted him from his fear, and he strode
down the corridor to a sizeable a mess hall, judging by all the
tables and chairs in it. He activated a com-link beside the door
and summoned his complement of soldiers, who arrived after a couple
of minutes, about a hundred of them.

Bane cast his
eyes over them and shook his head. “These are all men. Soldiering
is not an ideal occupation for a droge, since there is the risk of
injury, which would reveal his true nature. His comrades would
notice if he was fatally wounded and did not die, or even
bleed.”

Sarjan grunted.
“Then we’ll have to check the ops.”

“I do not wish
my presence in this world to be known yet, and if I capture a droge
he will inform his master, so I hope the one we find is Parsimon’s
vassal.”

“Or else
what?”

“His master may
wish to confront me, which would prove damaging to your ship. Have
you shackles prepared to hold this droge when I capture him?”

Sarjan
despatched a soldier to fetch some and ordered a group of twenty
men to accompany him. They set off along the corridors, stopping to
study the men in the various rooms. Most were in a state of
excitement and anxiety, gathered in groups to discuss the events of
the past few hours. Those on duty tended their stations with
intense dedication, motivated by the ship’s perceived peril.

Bane found a
droge in one of the recreation rooms, a ratty man who stood on the
outskirts of a discussion group, listening to the conversation.
Sarjan’s brows rose when Bane nodded at the crewman, then walked
towards him. The droge and the rest of the men eyed Bane and backed
away, glancing at their commander for reassurance. Bane made as if
to pass the droge, then whipped around and seized him, locked one
arm around his throat and twisted his right arm behind his
back.

The droge
struggled fiercely until Bane bent his head to murmur, “Fight me,
and I shall rescind your form.”

The man
relaxed, and Sarjan gestured to the soldiers, four of whom took
hold of the droge’s arms as Bane released him. The ratty man threw
them off, and more piled into the fray, trying to pin him down. The
droge sent men reeling across the room with powerful punches and
kicks. Bane prowled around the melee, waiting for the droge to
emerge triumphant. The number of soldiers dwindled as they were
injured or knocked out, some with broken limbs, and Sarjan looked
worried.

When only five
soldiers remained, the droge threw them off again and made a dash
for the door. Bane Moved ahead of him and smashed him to the ground
with a double-fisted blow. The droge writhed, the front of his head
staved in, then staggered to his feet and headed for the door
again. Bane tackled him and hurled him down, straddled him and
bludgeoned his head flat. The droge yanked a knife from his belt
and stabbed Bane in the face. It glanced off his cheekbone, just
missing his eye.

The Demon Lord
hissed and ripped off the man’s arm, hurling it away, then stood up
and stamped on his head until it was a grey smear. Sarjan gaped at
the twitching droge, looking sick. Bane wiped his cheek and frowned
at the blood on his hand.

“Bloody hell,”
Sarjan muttered.

Bane shot him
an angry look. “I instructed you to put shackles on him, not try to
beat him into submission.”