Tags:
demons,
Healers,
gods,
Battles,
goddess,
mages,
underworld,
white power,
dark power,
blue power,
black fire,
black lord,
demon lord,
grey god
against you then. If Mirra had not been
Arkonen's hostage, perhaps you would have found a way to beat him,
even destroy him."
Bane indicated
Mirra with an angry flick of his hand. "She wants to come with
me."
Lyriasharin
turned limpid eyes upon Mirra, smiling. "Bless you, My Lady."
"Bless her? It
is madness!"
"A little, but
mostly courageous and, since you will not go without her,
fortunate."
Mirra blushed
and smiled, then gasped and fell to her knees as Kayos appeared
beside Lyriasharin, his silver eyes and hair gleaming in the
candlelight. Grem and Mithran sank down again, bowing their heads.
Bane snorted and swung away once more.
Kayos made a
languid gesture. "Arise. Greetings, My Lord."
Bane turned to
scowl at him. "We can decide this matter without celestial
intervention."
"I understand
your anger."
"Of course you
do. I will wager you understand everything."
"Quite a lot,
yes. You have no wish to be dragged from your peaceful existence,
and I would not ask such a great favour of you if it was not
important. My granddaughter's pain is endless, Bane."
"And if I was
not... what I am, you would have no way of saving her."
"Yes. But you
are what you are, and for that I am truly grateful." He paused,
considering Bane. "I want to show you something before you
decide."
"I have
already decided."
"You should
see it anyway." Kayos waved a hand, and an image appeared in the
air above the table. A beautiful woman lay in the grip of a
seething sea of grotesque dark creatures. They tore at her
tattered, shimmering white raiment and flesh with clawed hands that
left glowing wounds. She writhed, her face twisted, her mouth open
in a silent scream. Silken skeins of dark golden hair swirled
around her head, and her creamy skin was flushed with exertion, her
lips twisted with pain, her eyes stark with it.
"This is how I
found her," Kayos said.
Within the
Eye, the dark creatures scattered as a fire demon in true form
waded into the fray until the goddess lay in the midst of its
flames, her flesh glowing golden as she burnt. She thrashed, and,
although the image was silent, Bane could hear her terrible screams
in his mind, for he had heard their like before. Streams of pale
light became visible, flowing into Ashynaria to replace the power
that was being used to keep her alive. The image swelled, and the
demon was struck aside by a shining white shield that lashed out
from behind the eyes that beheld the image, for this was Kayos'
memory.
The fire demon
dimmed and swirled, then turned its white-hot eyes upon its
attacker, causing Bane's hands to clench with futile anger. Kayos
smashed the demon until it weakened, and the dark creatures watched
the battle with glowing red eyes. Ashynaria lay on a cracked stone
floor, her wrists, ankles and neck shackled with black metal that
had an oily sheen, like the blade of Bane's dagger. Kayos fought
the demon for several minutes, then more appeared, and the image
faded.
"At that point
I knew Telvaron was on his way, and I had to leave." He looked at
Bane. "You could have defeated those demons with a single lash of
power, and freed her from the chains, which are made from duron, a
metal found only in dark realms, and which will only obey the will
of a dark god. I was able to give her only a few moments without
pain. You do not have to fight Telvaron, just free Ashynaria. That
is all we ask."
A soft sob
made Bane glance at Lyriasharin, whose cheeks were wet with tears.
Kayos put an arm around her shoulders, and she leant against him.
Bane jumped as a hand slipped into his, and he looked down at
Mirra.
"Please, Bane.
I want you to free her."
Bane walked
over to a chair and sank down on it. Mirra settled on his lap and
twined her arms around his neck, burying her face in his hair. He
looked up at Kayos.
"I do not want
to do this."
"I
understand."
"How long will
it take to get there?"
Lyriasharin
slumped with a soft cry, and Kayos patted her shoulder. "That
depends on what hazards we
Learning to Kill: Stories