Demon Lord V: God Realm

By T C Southwell

The trackless and dangerous God Realm is shaped by the will of the gods who roam it, and the creatures of darkness that inhabit it prey upon the doomed mortals who wander its shifting wastes... Even a mortal dark god may not survive its traps and treachery, and a Grey God is a beacon that draws the darkness. Kayos’ shield sphere may not protect him from a dark god with a Key...

• Language: English
• Publisher: T C Southwell
• Release date: Dec 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458012401

T C Southwell

T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and moved to the Seychelles when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa.T. C. Southwell has written over thirty fantasy and science fiction novels, as well as five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art, and she is now a full-time writer.

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Demon Lord V

God Realm

T C Southwell

Published by T C Southwell at Smashwords

Copyright © 2010 T C Southwell

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter One – God Realm

Chapter Two – Captive

Chapter Three – Dark God

Chapter Four – Demigoddess

Chapter Five – Fall

Chapter Six – Release

Chapter Seven – Blind God

Chapter Eight – Soul Eater

Chapter Nine – Child God

Chapter Ten – Faithless

Chapter Eleven – Torment

Chapter Twelve – Destroyer

Chapter Thirteen – The Summoning

Chapter One

God Realm

Mirra gazed at her husband’s broad-shouldered back as he walked ahead of her steed. It seemed they had wandered through this harsh, trackless realm for an eternity, and she wondered if they would ever reach their destination. Mithran, who rode a grey stallion beside her, cast her a tired smile when she glanced at him. Although Bane bore a fair resemblance to his father, Mithran’s dark brown hair was grizzled and his features lacked the perfection the dark power had bestowed upon Bane. His nose was broader and his brows level above deep-set dark grey eyes. He wore a tough black leather jacket over a dark blue shirt and brown suede trousers, a silver-hilted broadsword in a plain scabbard at his side.

Time was hard to measure where there was no day or night. The landscape changed as they travelled through it, either into benign expanses of barren land under glowing skies or storm-swept dark regions. At times, they passed through weird landscapes that held no resemblance to reality and came in a variety of colours and textures; swirling greyness, flowing blueness, glowing redness or seething darkness.

The beasts they rode, which appeared to be horses, were in fact demon steeds her husband, the Demon Lord, had summoned. Without his protection and that of the steeds, she, Mithran and Grem would have perished long since in this dangerous realm. Now she understood why Bane had not wished to come on this journey to save Kayos’ granddaughter, Ashynaria, and especially why he had railed against her, his father and Grem accompanying him. She had persuaded him, and, although she clung to her wish for him to free the enslaved light goddess, at times she longed to be back in her domain’s peaceful forest, where they had dwelt in happy obscurity.

Mirra’s bones seemed leaden with fatigue. Often, they rode for days on end, their hunger and fatigue the only measure of time, before finding a reasonably safe place to rest. Nowhere was truly safe in the God Realm, and when they could not find a dead domain or a light god’s domain to shelter in, they were forced to sleep in the benign areas they crossed. On those occasions, Kayos raised shimmering shields of white power around them and guarded them while they slept, since his need for sleep was far less than theirs. Even so, Bane had been forced to protect them many times. It saddened her that he had had no rest from the dark power’s influence for so long.

Grem, who rode a black steed on the other side of her, stared ahead, his shoulders slumped. His brown leather huntsman’s jacket showed little signs of wear and tear, but the collar of his fawn shirt was a bit grubby. Short brown hair topped his lean, tough face, his chin furred with stubble. The former mercenary wore black leather trousers and boots, a long sword in a silver-studded scabbard buckled to his broad belt. He fared the best out of the three humans, which was not surprising, since he was the fittest and toughest. Their insistence on accompanying Bane and Kayos seemed foolish now, and she was certain Grem and Mithran regretted it too, probably more than she did. So far, the three of them had only been a burden.

They traversed an area of black, stony ground under a lowering grey sky shot with distant, silent lightning, its dull glow casting a dim twilight. She longed for the next rest stop. Bane glanced back, and she forced a sedate smile in an effort to hide her fatigue. His eyes flicked to Mithran, who was not so quick to hide his tiredness. Bane spoke to Kayos, then stopped and waited for her. When she halted next to him, he laid a hand on Kess’ shoulder and inspected her with brilliant, fire-blue eyes.

There is a lighter area ahead. We will rest there.

I am well enough.

Bane smiled, and a cold breeze lifted the blue-sheened wings of midnight hair that fell to his shoulders from a deep widow’s peak, framing his visage. Fine brows slanted steeply above a narrow, sculpted nose, and a slight frown furrowed the alabaster skin between them. From the moment she had seen him, more than three years ago, the purity of his angelic-demonic face had fascinated her. The crimson-lined sable cloak that hung from his shoulders almost swept the ground, and golden flame-like patterns adorned the front of his silken shirt. Silver-studded wrist guards protected his forearms, and a silver-embossed belt held a black-bladed dagger sheathed at his side.

No dirt or sweat clung to his skin or attire, for the dark power within him burnt it away. An advantage she lacked, and she was certain her face was smeared with dirt and her hair filmed with dust. Certainly Grem and Mithran were.

Bane said, I am tired, even if you are not.

Then we should stop soon, so you may rest.

Indeed, I shall insist upon it. I am not tireless, like Kayos. Bane nodded at the Grey God who stood watching them.

Mirra tore her eyes from her husband’s face to gaze at the elder god, struck, as always, by his air of eternal grace. His silver eyes and grey hair glinted in the dim light, which softened the classical lines of his stern but kindly face. His shimmering grey jacket, worn over white silk shirt, was frosted with silver and white, and clung to the muscular contours of his chest, clasped at the waist with a silver belt. It hung to mid-thigh in narrow tails, front and back. His dark grey trousers were also frosted with silver along the outer thigh. Boots of a still darker shade of grey shod his feet, soled with silver. This was the reason his kind were called Grey Gods, or sometimes Silver Gods. His pale skin hardly detracted from the overall impression of greyness.

Bane patted her knee and walked back to Kayos, falling into step beside him. Mirra sighed as her steed followed them, wondering if they were going to come across any pools where she could wash in the near future. The area through which they travelled appeared to be innocuous, so much so that she closed her eyes and dozed, the gentle swaying of the steed’s steps lulling her. Her stomach growled, and she yawned.

A hissing crack jerked her head up, her eyes springing open. Her nerves twanged with tension, bringing her instantly wide awake. Kayos swung around, his expression alarmed. Bane had vanished. Mirra gave a cry of alarm and slid from her steed, running towards Kayos, who strode back to her and caught her arm, halting her.

Stay away, he said, frowning.

What is it? What has happened to Bane?

It is a trap.

Mirra gasped, anguish crushing her heart in a cruel grip. Where is he?

I do not know.

You must find him!

Mithran and Grem ran up as Kayos said, I will, child, do not fret. But you must not go over there, or the trap will take you too.

Then I will go where Bane is.

No. Not necessarily. It is dangerous to assume anything in the God Realm. Stay away from it. Traps like this are extremely dangerous.

Please find him! Her eyes brimmed with tears.

Kayos released her arm as Mithran put his around her shoulders. Grem cast about, searching the ground for clues, but Kayos scowled at him.

Grem, come away. There is nothing here that your eyes will see.

The tall, grey-eyed warrior walked back to them, his expression grim. Kayos glanced at the demon steeds. He is not dead. The steeds are still here. I will find him, but it will take time, and none of you can help. Just do as I say.

Mithran nodded. We will, Lord. Please find my son.

He could be hurt, dying! Mirra cried. Please hurry. He might already be someone’s prisoner.

If he is, I pity them, Kayos muttered. He will not be a captive for long, I assure you. This is a random trap; one of many out here, for no one would be foolish enough to abduct Bane.

Chapter Two

Captive

Bane drifted up through the dark mists of unconsciousness, becoming aware that he lay on hard, stony ground. His head pounded with a fury that reminded him of the headaches the dark power had once given him. He had a vague memory of walking beside Kayos, then the ground had swallowed him. He recalled falling, tumbling through the air, disorientated by the suddenness of it. He had summoned the dark power instants before he had struck the ground, but the impact had robbed him of his senses. How long he had lain unconscious was unknown, but he was no longer alone. Ten soul lights clustered around him, two tinged with darkness, four shimmering blue-yellow, two pulsing red, and two shining with white-gold purity.

Bane opened his eyes, and a hiss of alarm evinced a rush of movement around him. Several things struck him at once. His wrists were bound, there was one person in the group who did not possess a soul, and two men stood over him, pointing powerful crossbows at his chest. His eyes focussed briefly on the pitch darkness beyond the men. A wood fire that burnt close by and several torches planted in the ground like fiery trees held it at bay. He met the steely gaze of the powerfully built, copper-skinned man who straddled him, and spread his hands in a gesture of appeasement.

Kill him, a soft voice said beside him, and he turned his head to find a girl in a ragged, thigh-length brown shirt and matching trousers seated there, watching him with wide eyes.

The copper-skinned man shook his head. He might be useful.

He’s a killer.

The man, whom Bane assumed was the leader, snorted. I still don’t understand how you know that.

I just do.

Bane studied the thin, dirty girl, who looked away with a shudder. She seemed to have the gift of Sight. A putative seer perhaps, or one who did not understand her gift. Her brown hair was shorn to stubble, and dirty sweat streaked her narrow, intelligent face. Lines of weariness and pain etched it, and a blood-stained cloth was wrapped around her upper arm. The other members of the group also bore signs of weariness and suffering, some of them injured as well. The two men who menaced him wore dark grey leather trousers and jackets over cloth shirts of the same hue.

Another two, who also carried crossbows, stood a little further away, watching him. Beyond them, two women, one aged, the other young, sat close together, clad in the soiled white vestments of a light god’s priestesses. On the other side, a husky man comforted a girl of about twelve, who huddled close to him. A beautiful woman stood with the soulless man, dressed in brown leather, her braided jet hair filmed with dust. The man, whom Bane recognised as a minor air demon, frowned at him.

The warrior who stood over him kicked him in the ribs. Are you a killer?

Bane decided that, since the seeress was a member of their group, it was more likely they would believe her if he denied her accusation, and that would only increase their suspicion. He also came to the conclusion that revealing his true identity would be a really bad idea. The young seeress had already denounced him, and the priestesses would revile him. He wondered where Kayos was while he considered his answer.

I have killed, he allowed, but no more so than you, probably.

A soldier?

Something like that.

The leader lowered his crossbow, but the young seeress glared at Bane with intense loathing and said, He lies. He enjoyed it.

The copper-skinned man frowned, and Bane wondered what would happen if he tried to Move. Kayos had warned him not to do it in the God Realm, and he had to assume he was still in it.

He still might be useful, the leader muttered. If he becomes a problem, we’ll feed him to the monsters, and if he kills a few of them, so much the better. In the meantime, we’ll watch him.

You should kill him now, and be done with it, the girl said.

He appeared to consider this. We’ll let him live for now.

A mistake, Artan.

I’m the leader by right of prowess, so if you wish to lead us, best me, until then, you’ll accept my decisions.

The girl glowered at him, then turned her back in a gesture of disdain. Bane grimaced and raised his hands to clasp his pounding head, noticing that the metal that bound his wrists was a peculiar blue-tinted silver. His guards tensed as he rubbed his brow, then Artan relaxed and hunkered down beside him, while the other man kept his weapon trained on Bane’s heart.

Have you a name?

Bane.

Who would name you a curse?

Bane sat up slowly, keeping an eye on the nervous guard. One who hated me.

Undoubtedly a fascinating tale. How did you come to be here?

Bane shook his head, wincing. I am unsure. I was walking, then I fell.

Artan glanced up at the pitch darkness above them. How could you survive such a fall?

I do not know. Where am I?

In a dark place. We found you atop a pile of bones, over yonder. Artan jerked his chin at the darkness beside Bane.

Why did you not leave me there?

You were alive.

Why am I bound?

Artan looked at the girl. Ethra warned us that you were dangerous. She says you’re filled with darkness. From that, I assume you’re some sort of black mage or dark priest, but we need all the men we can get. In here, prejudice has no purpose, our survival is at stake.

What good is a bound man in your defence?

Artan shrugged. That will be remedied when we know whether or not we can trust you, or if we require your help in our defence. Until then, you stay bound.

Bane studied the metal cuffs again. Where did you get these?

Our world died. A dark god entered it and slew our lord Armorgan, but only after a battle that lasted many centuries. When we left, we travelled through a strange place, and there we found those. According to the priestesses, it was Armorgan’s realm, and they witnessed his demise at the hands of the dark god.

The priestesses sat with bowed heads, their stance dejected.

There were more of us then, Artan went on. An entire platoon of King Ferron’s finest, but that of course means nothing to you. There were two hundred of us, now we’re all that are left. When our world darkened, our King ordered us to seek out Armorgan in person, to beg his aid, and sent us to a place where our god was known to dwell. We found the portal that guarded his realm open, twisted and burnt. The priestesses told us of his demise, and we found another gate that led into this dark place.

Why did you come here?

We were hungry, and there seemed no point in returning to inform the King that Armorgan was dead. There was no food in our world anymore.

Your King sent soldiers to beg your god’s aid?

Artan shook his head. We had five priestesses, but they have since perished. Now we only have the two we met in the god place. These others we found wandering in the dark.

How long have you been here?

You ask a lot of questions, stranger. Artan gazed into the darkness. There’s no way to calculate how long we’ve been here, but it seems like an eternity.

Then you have found food.

We eat the creatures we kill, or the corpses we find, as long as they aren’t human. Beasts attack us from the darkness, but they fear the light.

Bane pondered Artan’s words, amazed that this scruffy group had survived for a time in what was clearly a place ruled by the dark power in the God Realm. The beasts that attacked them were creatures of darkness, more sensitive to light than those that dwelt in the Overworld, living as they did in complete darkness. Without the light of their fires, the group would have been overwhelmed swiftly. He wondered if the dark beasts would continue to attack once they sensed his presence, but that seemed likely. They depended upon unfortunate wanderers such as these for their livelihood, and the only thing they truly feared was light. Hunger would force them to attack.

How did you come to be in here? Artan asked, breaking into his reverie.

A similar story to yours.

So what are you, a black mage or worshipper of a dark god?

Both.

What god do you worship?

Bane frowned, unwilling to enter into such a pretence. I am forbidden to speak his name.

I hope he’s not the one who destroyed my world, or your life would be forfeit. Despite our need for more men, we would feed you to the beasts now.

He is not.

How would you know?

He dwells far from here.

Artan snorted. Gods can move instantly from one place to another. Distance is nothing to them.

Not through this place.

You seem to know a lot. What is this place?

It is known as the God Realm. It is the place between worlds.

Artan leant closer, his demeanour intent. Do you know how we can escape it?

You must find another world and enter it, which will be difficult. Bane contemplated the shackles again, sensing that the white power within the metal would make them immune to his own. He wondered why Armorgan had made them. Perhaps to bind a dark god in his droge form, if they had the power to prevent him shucking it, or perhaps when he was unable to do so due to the presence of light. Then, however, surely he would be able to Move to a dark place? Or did the cuffs prevent that too? Would they stop him using his power?

Artan broke into his thoughts again. Can you help us to find and enter another world?

I would be more inclined to help you if you released me.

Ethra, who listened to their conversation shamelessly, snorted, her lip curling.

Artan shook his head. Not until you convince us that you mean us no harm.

Why would I wish to harm you?

Ethra thinks you want to, for whatever reason, but we can’t risk ignoring her. She’s warned us of danger in the past, and she’s been right. Perhaps for your own sick pleasure, who knows?

Bane cast an angry look at Ethra, the source of his woes. She paled, her brows knotting, then yanked a long rusty dagger from her belt and lunged at him. Bane flung himself sideways, his bound wrists hampering him. Artan sprang to his defence, grabbing the girl as she lunged at Bane again. She landed a few well-aimed blows on Artan’s head before he trapped her wrists and wrenched the weapon from her hand. He cursed and hopped when she kicked him in the shin, then slapped her, putting an end to her struggles.

Artan scowled down at her. Until I decide to kill him, you leave him alone.

He’s evil!

He can help us.

He won’t! He’ll lead us into danger.

Then we won’t follow him.

Then what good is he? she demanded.

He can help us fight the monsters.

He’s more likely to stab you in the back during the battle.

Then I’ll kill him myself.

Her eyes glinted. You’ll be dead!

He isn’t armed.

That won’t stop him.

Artan pushed her away, making