Demon Lord XI: God War

By T C Southwell

The Demon Lord returns to his former tomb to solve the mystery of the accursed box he hopes is a portal to Naskara. His ordeal in Damnation has left deep mental scars that make him leery of braving the unknown and not even sure he wants to help the light anymore. He has paid too high a price for doing so and all he wants now is to return home. In Naskara, he discovers who helped to free him, and why, and the dark angels who want him to be their god follow him there.

Silven has more freedom, with Lathe as her protector, and she is unable to resist the lure of visiting her traveller friends. Marlan offers to teach her how to use magic, and a strange encounter reveals the presence of new enemies. Lathe keeps her safe, for now, but Arkonen has plans to exact his revenge on her father, and they include Silven. She is forced to seek the aid of a black cult, whose ties to warlocks and demons can protect her, and her family, but the arrangement has pitfalls. As long as Arkonen thinks she is on a dark path, he might choose to leave her be, but Lathe is vulnerable to the Black Lord’s machinations.

When Naskara reaches Airedene, the celestial cities clash in an apocalyptic battle, wherein Naskara could tip the balance of power in the darkness’ favour. If Airedene is destroyed, it may never be rebuilt, and its loss would change destiny forever. The seven Grey Gods have gathered to fight this latest battle in the eternal god war between the darkness and the light, but they face a dire enemy in the form of seven ancient and powerful dark gods.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T C Southwell
• Release date: Oct 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463643297

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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Book XI of the Demon Lord Series

GOD WAR

T C Southwell

Published by T C Southwell at Smashwords

Copyright © 2021 by 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.

Prologue

The Demon Lord crosses the God Realm and frees Kayos’ granddaughter, but then is tricked, injured, and flung into the Forgotten Lands. To escape its time tides, he and Majelin take a wild portal that leads to an ancient celestial city, Naskara, where seven dark gods capture him and condemn him to Damnation. Mysterious messages prompt a light god to send a sorceress to free Bane, who then ends the scourge in Veradian’s world, where three decades have passed while Bane was imprisoned. During that time, dark angels have proliferated there, spawned by the three who escaped the Hidden World. The immortal half-human hybrids require additional spirit energy to survive, and they are the scourge. Bane makes a deal with them, to end it, and almost half of them want to become his followers. Now, he only wants to return to Myrthran, where Mirra raises their daughter, Silven, but the journey could take centuries, unless the box he found in his tomb is a portal to Naskara. The dark city is almost upon Airedene, and the Grey Gods have gathered to defend it.

Table of Contents

Chapter One – The Box

Chapter Two – Guardian

Chapter Three – Dark Goddess

Chapter Four – Betrayal

Chapter Five – Secret Saviour

Chapter Six – Travellers

Chapter Seven – God War

Chapter Eight – Dire Demons

Chapter Nine – Dark Angels

Chapter Ten – Spirit Dream

Chapter Eleven – Boy God

Chapter Twelve – The Rescue

Chapter Thirteen – Machinations

Chapter Fourteen – Black Priests

Chapter Fifteen – Deceiver

Chapter Sixteen – Slaughter

Chapter Seventeen – Wages of Vengeance

Chapter Eighteen – Arkonen

Chapter Nineteen – Sanctuary

Chapter Twenty – The Battle

Chapter One

The Box

The Demon Lord lay upon the cracked slab in his former tomb and remembered the peaceful years he had spent in Myrthran with Mirra, his father, and Grem. The recollections were soothing, but redoubled his regret that he had left that life behind. Damnation’s time dilating properties meant that he now had centuries of horrific memories too, and many of them kept surfacing when he thought about his wife. His exhaustion and regret diminished him. He felt hollow inside, as if his ordeal had drained most of his willpower and courage, and he had no idea how to restore it, or if it was even possible.

Mirra’s daily prayers were precious gifts that alleviated his gloom, but the threat of the dark cults was troubling. He had a feeling that things were going to go wrong in Myrthran, soon, while the journey home could take years, especially given the God Realm’s treacherous nature, and then only if he was right about the duron box. He was fairly sure Airedene was a good deal farther from Myrthran than Ashynaria’s domain, plus there was the unpleasant mystery of who had hidden the box in his tomb, and why.

Bane sighed and cursed the intrusive thoughts that kept him awake, especially when there were no solutions to be had. His mind constantly returned to them, denying him rest.

A soft rumble made him open his eyes and sit up. The sun had set several hours ago, just after his arrival at the tomb – or perhaps it was more accurate to say that it had wandered off, for he doubted it would return. A glowing silver sky cast dim light on a barren land whose surface appeared to ripple. He swung his legs off the slab and peered at it. The rumble grew louder, and star-shaped fissures cracked open in the debris strewn area around the tomb. Jagged spears of bottle green rock thrust up with a soft grinding, shedding dirt and stones. Distant peaks rose and grey clouds rushed in, darkening the vista.

He spread a hand towards the ground. Be still.

The spears stopped and the rumble died away, but the God Realm’s attempts to change grew in strength and frequency, and controlling them amplified his headache. Staying at the tomb had become less than restful, and would only worsen. The time had come to set out on the next leg of his journey. He touched the slab and commanded the stone, and the cube that concealed the box melted away to reveal the faint outline of the accursed device.

The box must have been there when he was crucified, so, either he was the only one who could see it, or the septimus had known about it, yet that did not explain why no one had stumbled across it during his execution. He slid off the slab and crouched beside it, disliking the wariness his previous encounter with it caused, but the sense of foreboding was gone. He passed a hand over it, hesitated, and then steeled himself and reached for it, almost relieved when his fingers passed through it as if it was just an illusion, solving one mystery.

Bane frowned, Gathered a little power and tried again. A stinging chill made him snatch his hand back, then the box turned black and three runes glowed red on its lid. Part of its surface reformed into four runes that symbolised his title, confirming that it was intended for him. That was not comforting. The darkness was deceptive and fond of traps, and he had fallen into a few. The ethereality spell could be a safety feature, since such powerful devices were dangerous, but their makers usually considered it a bonus if meddlers fell afoul of them. It seemed more likely that it had been to ensure no one else could tamper with, or trip over, it.

Bane rose to his feet and raked back his hair. He hated being forced to take on potentially dangerous mysteries more than ever; they backfired far too often. Dark gods did nothing even remotely beneficial to others, unless it benefited them more, but that was rare. Damnation’s toll on his courage stoked his frustration. He sensed a presence and looked around.

Majelin frowned at the box. I would urge you not to risk it, if there was another option.

"And I would gladly take that advice, if I could. Last time was so much fun."

I recommend you rest awhile longer before you tackle it.

More advice I wish I could heed, but rest is impossible when keeping this area stable gives me the mother of all headaches.

The archangel nodded. Lord Kayos thinks you are right about it, if that is a comfort.

It should be, I guess, since he is right about everything.

Bane crouched again and scrutinised the box. The Kallith concealment wards remained, but the locking runes had been replaced, and he was not sure if the command he had used last time would work. Still, it was worth a try.

He murmured, "Carthar nathass."

Two runes went dark, and one glowed on the front. He touched the locking glyphs. "Saksas ath shenar."

The runes faded and the lid unsealed with a click, allowing shadows to seep out. He flipped the lid open with a clunk and inspected the interior, where black fire swirled in a vortex. He stood up, and Majelin stepped closer to peer inside.

Let an angel try it first. He is less likely to perish, if it is dangerous.

Are you volunteering? Bane held up a hand. Forget I asked. If this is a trap, it could be designed to imprison me in a dark place.

"I cannot think of a way that you could be trapped, now."

Neither can I, but I can think of a few ways that would force me to Move. This could be Telvaron’s final failsafe, so entering it may have dire consequences, even for you.

Rather me than you, but actually, I was going to suggest -

Rather neither of us, or one of your companions. The dark power will weaken, even sicken him, right?

If it is intense, yes, the archangel admitted. Why not send a demon?

That is the obvious choice, and I have learnt that it is better to go with the least expected option when dealing with the darkness. Besides, it would take him too long to return. Bane gazed into the distance, pondering the problem. I have a better idea. Tar’shaegan!

A few seconds passed, and then a dark angel stepped forth, cast Majelin a slit-eyed look, and faced Bane. What do you want?

Some civility, for starters, Bane replied. Who are you?

I’m Torkar, second lieutenant to Quilon.

Bane indicated the box. I need you to find out what that is.

And if it’s a trap, it might kill me.

That is unlikely, since my enemies want to keep me alive. It will certainly not be designed to snare a dark angel.

I could still be trapped forever, Torkar argued.

I am fairly certain it is a portal to a dark city called Naskara. I merely wish to confirm that before using it myself.

Then send him. He nodded at Majelin.

I want you to do it.

So… I’m expendable?

You are immune to the dark power.

Uh-huh… and what will be my reward?

Bane frowned. I will refrain from killing you.

Since you’ve yet to accept us as followers, we’re not bound to obey you, so, if you need our help…

Fine; then feel free to suck the life out of any black mages you find.

And if there are none?

You should leap at the chance to impress me with your bravery and obedience. If you are too craven, find another who has more courage.

Torkar snorted. I fear nothing.

Majelin said, Angels may attack him in the Channels, on his return trip.

I’ll kill them, Torkar growled.

You will not, Bane stated. You will tell them the tar’merin sent you, or be invisible.

Invisibility is tiring, and will slow me down. And what if the angels don’t listen?

Run faster.

The tar’shaegan glowered at the box, probably trying to think of an objection that would work, then flung Majelin a final frown, folded his wings and stepped into the box, his arms at his sides. He sank into the gloom, and Bane squatted, shut the box and brushed a finger over the clasp.

"Harsel tothak redal."

After a few moments he reopened it, found it empty, and rose to his feet once more.

Majelin remarked, If it is a portal to Naskara, I will not be much help for a while.

Then you should use the Channels. The tar’shaegan can accompany me.

They are unreliable, since they are so reluctant to comply with your requests.

Bane nodded. They are arrogant, a common trait of dark creatures. But, if they want to improve their chances of gaining a god, they will obey. He looked up and raised his voice. Your reward will be the life force of thousands of warlocks. You will feast.

The Demon Lord stretched out on the slab, closed his eyes and tried to relax. A further few days of rest would be beneficial, as long as controlling the flux remained manageable and he could stop wrestling with his worries.

Kayos strolled along the walkway that ringed the observatory, his boots silent on the pale crystal. The dome was located atop an elevated plaza at Airedene’s centre, and commanded a panoramic vista. The Corvadon Eye was a swirling vortex of lightning-shot chaos, since the view of Naskara was blocked, but its image would be displayed as soon as that stopped. He headed towards the side where their enemy was due to appear, according to the guardians who kept watch. Six archangels formed a welcoming party on the misty floor below, Grythor, leader of the Circle of Light, looking just a trifle smug. Airedene was rarely home to all seven Grey Gods, and this was the first time it had happened since he had taken charge.

A brilliant doorway appeared in the centre of the room, and the angels bowed as Erath strode forth, his brow furrowed and his tall figure charged with tension. A silver cape draped his broad shoulders, relieving his dusky outfit, and a short beard framed his grim mouth. He was the most taciturn and resolute of the Seven, but also one of the most powerful. The doorway collapsed behind him, returning to its inactive state, and he plucked his zakrass from the air and brought it close to his person, whereupon flowed around his waist.

The other Grey Gods stood in a murmuring group beside the wall, which glowed, due to their proximity. Airen conversed with her husband, Vater, her drifting skeins of misty hair and thundercloud garb giving her an ethereal air. Firen’s locks shimmered with multi-hued flames and her iridescent attire glowed. Heyat owned a more subdued aspect, her hair a riot of glossy curls and her charcoal gown shot with silver streaks. They greeted Erath, who looked up at Kayos. The eldest Grey God nodded to him, and then turned to the clear strip that encircled the dome.

A hazy shape on the horizon caught his attention, visible between two mountains. Ordur joined him, a wineglass in hand.

Look. Kayos pointed. That is Naskara.

Ordur leant forward and squinted. Damn. They must have opened a lot of Sources to increase their speed that much.

They are eager for battle, after waiting for so long.

So it would seem. Ordur beckoned to others, who joined them.

Vater remarked, I still say we should Move the city.

It remains an option, but only as a last resort, Ordur stated.

Airedene cannot prevail against Naskara, Airen said. We are woefully outmatched.

We need to make a stand or they will never stop hunting this city.

Vater glanced at Kayos. Where is your vaunted tar’merin?

He still suffers the aftermath of a decade in Damnation.

He seems ever out of sorts.

Kayos nodded. He has had far too much hardship in his short lifetime. He has done enough. I will not ask for his help again, and neither will any of you.

You would squander a tar’merin? Firen asked.

It is better that he chooses to help, when he will. He will be around for a lot longer then.

That is true, but will he?

I believe so. It is his nature.

You know him so well?

I do… or, at least, I did. I am not so sure now, but I hope he survived Damnation with his good nature reasonably intact, for his sake, as well as ours. Kayos sighed. I will understand if he refuses. Being tar’merin is a heavy burden, especially for a young mortal, and he deserves a happy life as much as anyone, if not more than most. It pains me that we have such need of his help, when he has already done so much and paid such a high price.

Ordur said, I say it is up to Kayos to decide how best to deal with his spirit son.

I agree, Heyat murmured. The others were lost far too soon.

Firen and Erath nodded, and Vater said, I would rather have no dealings with tar’merin.

You would change your tune if you needed his aid, Ordur commented. It has been so long since one existed that your memory of their deeds has faded.

Airen clasped her husband’s shoulder. I think Carthius’ death was a mercy. He suffered so much, for so long…

Kayos nodded. I am of the same opinion. He hesitated, loath to impart more bad news. Now that we are all here, I must tell you that Bane’s trip to Naskara had the unfortunate result of granting some of the warlocks there additional powers, stolen from his blood.

So now they will slaughter our angels, Vater grumped.

Bane is blameless.

A mortal tar’merin has weaknesses the darkness will exploit.

True, but his mortality bestows more gifts than flaws.

Ordur leant closer. You two should agree to disagree.

Vater will soon tire of the debate.

I hope so. He is the last of us to learn that no one wins an argument with you.

Chapter Two

Guardian

Silven halted on the crest of a wooded hill and looked back at her mother, who set a sedate pace while Silven explored. Her newfound freedom elated her, despite Mirra’s insistence on accompanying her. She had tested Silven’s safety several times over the past three weeks, with short trips off the hallowed ground. First, it had been walks in the woods, and then they had ventured a few miles down the road towards the Village of Rill River. Two days ago, they had gone to a fair there, played the games and snacked on tasty treats.

The scarcity of healers increased people’s regard for them, and Mirra had only to show interest in a snack for someone to buy it and press it into her hand, if the merchant failed to do so right away. In return, she healed the odd sniffle and minor bumps and scrapes, earning grateful smiles and blessings. People stepped from her path and held open doors, men bowed and women bobbed. The deference clearly discomfited her, but Silven found it endearing. The villagers delighted her, with their rustic garments, coarse speech and crude manners, so different from the abbey’s polite, worshipful and punctilious society. They reminded her of the travellers, bringing back fond memories.

Silven had not seen Lathe since the day she had questioned him in the glade, even though she had gone back there and called him many times. The other wrinkle in her happiness was that Shyelle and Varla still visited the travellers. They told her about the fun they had and Marlan’s stories, as well as enthusing over the sweet treats. According to the girls, Marlan had only said he missed Silven and enquired about the reason for her absence. Shyelle had told him the truth, pretty much, only omitting Mirra’s suspicions. He had accepted that without fuss, apparently, which seemed to confirm Silven’s opinion that he was harmless.

Silven missed the happy times, and Shyelle brought back sugary gifts that only increased Silven’s hankering for more. The disparity was causing a rift between her and her friends, who whispered secrets and shared knowing looks, making Silven feel left out.

Today, Mirra was taking her to visit her grandfather and his wife on the occasion of their youngest son’s fifth birthday. They also had a girl and a boy aged seven and nine respectively, and lived in a cottage just outside the village. Mithran plied his woodsman’s trade to support his new family, scouring the forest for trees with exceptional wood to sell to carvers and furniture makers, whilst supplying firewood for a basic income. He rarely spoke of Bane, and never to strangers, since there was still a great deal of ill will attached to him, but Lenia knew the whole story. He had met the plump, rosy-cheeked barmaid whilst trying to drown his sorrows, and her cheery nature and motherly charm had vastly improved his outlook on life.

Mirra peered between the trees and jumped at a rustle in the bushes, holding her medallion as if drawing comfort from it. She carried a basket containing a cake and biscuits she had baked for Jorick, and Silven had made him a stuffed toy cat. She had been looking forward to the outing for over a week. Mithran often visited them at the abbey, and brought his family on occasion, but it would be a whole new experience to spend time with them at their home.

She waited for her mother to catch up, and then fell into step. What is wrong, Mum?

Mirra shook her head. It seems too quiet, but perhaps it is just that I have not been this far from the abbey since I returned. It is probably nothing, and I think Granddad’s cottage is just over the next hill.

The birdsong was distant and muted, with a few alarm calls close by. Mirra glanced about again and took Silven’s hand, and she wondered if Lathe was trying to give them the willies, but it was not creepy enough to be him.

A burly man in a black leather jacket and brown trousers stepped out from behind a tree ahead and ambled towards them. Gold chains hung about his neck and rings gleamed on his fingers. Mirra stopped and stared at him, then dropped the basket and drew Silven closer.

What is it? the girl asked.

Fly back to the abbey as fast as you can. Mirra gave her a push in that direction. Go!

Silven swung around. Why?

Just do as I say, please.

The girl eyed the stranger, who appeared to have no aura, but tainted ones were sometimes hard to discern, especially on a sunny day. Why does he alarm you?

It is a demon.

Silven cast her mother a startled glance. Why do you think that?

I know it. Its eyes are black. Your father told me how to spot them, and this one is acting strangely, approaching us like this. It might have a master.

What do you think it wants?

I have no idea, but nothing good.

Silven glared at the demon and shouted, What do you want?

It smirked, its eyes darting around.

Mirra took her hand again. Where is your guardian? Do you need to call him?

Maybe he does not think we are in danger.

Or maybe he lied to you, and never intended to keep his word.

He would not, Silven said. Sarmalin told him he would pay dearly if any harm came to me, and besides, we have a deal.

Then I hope we were not fools, to think a dark creature could ever be trusted.

She told you?

Mirra nodded. She believed it too, but now… you must go.

No. Lathe will only come if I stay, and I am not leaving you here alone.

Another beefy demon emerged from the forest behind them, this one clad in a flashy gold-trimmed green jacket and leather trousers, with a similar brutish face and surfeit of trinkets.

Silven studied the first one, intrigued. Maybe Lathe is plucking up his courage. I think he is afraid of demons. She raised her voice. Are you such a coward, Lathe?

I should have known this was a mistake, Mirra said. Now we have strayed too far from the hallowed ground. We must try to make it back there. Come along.

Mirra took a firmer grip on Silven’s hand and strode into the woods, but the demons shadowed them. She doubled back, glancing from one to the other.

We are definitely in danger. He has abandoned you.

Lathe! Silven shouted, frowning. "Lathe!"

The demons paused, gazing around, and then the first one frowned and strode closer, clenching its hands. Warm power coursed into her, and she flung a bolt of blue fire that blew a chunk out of the side of its head. It stumbled, but the damage reformed and it stayed on course. Mirra hauled her from its path, foiling her attempt to throw another bolt.

A grey-winged angel stepped from the air five paces away, his sword drawn, and leapt aside as both demons charged him. One swung a fist, which he ducked as he thrust his sword into its chest. It smacked the weapon from his grip and sprang, forcing him to leap back, almost into the other demon’s clutches as it circled to go behind him. They moved so fast he was barely able to dodge them. Lathe whipped around and punched the second one, making it stagger, then dived for his sword, scooped it up and swung to face his enemies.

Silven hurled more fire, but her mother’s efforts to drag her away spoilt her aim. Even so, she scored some good hits, yet the demons were unfazed. Her next bolt missed as her target lunged at Lathe and Mirra pulled her off balance, making her trip over a root. She wished her mum would stand still, certain that she could drive off the demons. The first one swung another punch, missing when Lathe ducked. Silven threw a bolt that struck its chest with a crackle, made it lurch back a step and blew a fist-sized crater in it, but the damage melted away within seconds.

Mirra pulled harder. Come away, Silven!

No! She dug in her heels and tried to twist her hand free. Leave me, Mum. I can help!

He should not need your help. We must go, in case he loses.

You go. I will catch up.

Silven flung bolt after bolt, blasting more holes in the demons, while Lathe evaded their punches and slashed them, but they went after him as if intent on capturing or killing him. He jumped aside, his wings aiding him, and impaled one in the eye. The other used the distraction to spring at him, and sent him sprawling with a blow that would have crushed a man’s skull. Lathe rolled to his feet, black blood seeping from his hair, and stabbed his foe three times. It slumped into a pile of dark soil, and the other paused, then sniggered and morphed into a greenish-brown cloud that dispersed, leaving a putrid stench.

Lathe wiped his cheek and frowned at the blood on his hand, then sheathed his sword, swung away and vanished.

Silven turned to her mother and smiled. I knew he would come.

Mirra gazed about, frowning. Her grip made Silven’s hand ache until she eased it. It took him far too long. You could have been hurt.

But I am not, and he chased them off.

I would not be so sure of that.

What do you mean?

A sword is useless against a demon, so… I think they left of their own accord.

"But now you know he will come if I need him, and he did fight them. They stopped chasing us."

All this proves is that he is unreliable, and ineffective against them.

"He will protect me. I am sure of it."

"Well, I