The Final Conflict
The Lady sighed and leant back against the radiant softness that supported her, closing her eyes. Around her, the white power permeated a landscape of pearl and white, trees of gleaming silver and pale cloud, flowers that sparkled like stars. Stones glowed like the embers of a diamond fire. The sky shimmered in an ever-changing medley of rainbow hues. A fraction of this, her father had set in the Overworld, to shine briefly in the sun after rain fell, a hint of the glory here.
Time was running out, just as her power was pouring forth to keep the temples lighted beneath the evil shroud that covered the land. She could not reach Bane in his dreams. The evil within him blocked that route, so she had tried to reach him through the woman. Casting even an essence of herself into the woman had taken a great deal of power, and she did not know if Bane had even seen it. If not, the effort had been wasted.
Bane doubted his ability to defeat the Black Lord after his first brash, disastrous attempt. Now Arkonen had Mirra, and, with her, the key to Bane’s defeat and death. This too, he knew and dreaded. It was all she could do to keep Mirra’s slight hold on her faith intact, and she channelled the healers’ prayers to aid her. Healing Bane had cost her dearly, and her realm had shrunk appreciably in the wake of the double effort.
If he did not act soon, the battle for the Overworld would be lost, and Arkonen would gain entry into her realm. One gate remained: a relic of the Overworld’s creation, accessible only from that realm. The key to that gate was in Arkonen’s hands. Only the soul of a healer could open the great world gate between the Overworld and Eternity, and only one who had fallen to the darkness. She raised a milk-pale hand and touched the faint marks that were starting to appear on her other arm, flickers of white power sparkling at her fingertips.
“Hurry, Bane.”
“Tomorrow,” Bane informed Ellese. “Tomorrow I will defeat Arkonen, or die trying.”
They stood on one of the abbey’s balconies that overlooked the ravaged land and the huddled masses of human misery that sheltered there from the evil beyond the hallowed ground. While the growing sickness of the people within the abbey was grave, it paled in comparison to the suffering of those who remained on land now so steeped in evil that it had begun to stink of sulphur.
“You are sure you are strong enough?” she asked.
“It does not matter. Your Lady’s power is dwindling. If I do not face him tomorrow, it will be too late.”
Ellese nodded. “She fights for Mirra’s soul.”
He swung away, gazing out across the sombre landscape again.
She looked down at her clasped hands. “Fifteen demons were amongst the people when they came here. They turned aside at the edge of the hallowed ground; so many amongst so few.”
“When your white fire dies, they will rise and destroy you.”
“I know. It was a good thing you did, saving those children.”
He shrugged. “It was nothing.”
“It was a great deal, to them.”
“A pity no one saved me.”
“Yes. I wanted to, so much. But I do not have the power to go below. No one does.”
“Why did you watch me?”
She shook her head. “I do not know. Concern. Pity.”
“Curiosity?”
“Perhaps a little. I wanted to know you, so I could be your friend, understand you.”
“And do you?”
“A little, I think.”
Bane faced her again, leaning against the railing. “If I had met you when I emerged from the Underworld, I would have killed you.”
“I know. After what the Black Lord did to you, you would have killed anyone. He made you hate us. Do you still hate us?”
“Sometimes. Mostly I care nothing for you.”
“Well, that is an improvement.”
“But you still hate me.”
“Not me, but most people, yes.” Ellese did not dare to lie to him, fearing he would sense it.
“I could live in this world,” he said. “It becomes more like home all the time.”
“No, you could not. In a year, maybe less, there will be no life in it, save you. What will you eat then? And when you die, you will go to the Land of the Dead, where Arkonen will destroy you before you can gather the power to defend yourself.”
He frowned. “Food was made for me in the Underworld.”
“No, it came from the Overworld. Beasts, thank the goddess, not humans, mixed with foul potions to increase the dark power’s influence on you. And the only reason the Black Lord took beasts is because they are easier to snatch from the Overworld.”
“I see. The curse of a mortal body, then.”
“Perhaps, but without it you would have no defence against Arkonen.”
“And with it, I am vulnerable,” he remarked. “Already he has proven that he can defeat me.”
“He is vulnerable too.”
“Not as much. Our power is the same. Defeating him will be difficult.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“A plan?” He chuckled. “How does one plan the defeat of a being so powerful he could tear this world apart?”
“You are just as powerful.”
“My power cannot harm him, and nor can his harm me.”
“What can harm him?”
Bane shrugged. “Light is his greatest weakness. His shadow form cannot withstand it, although he can in a droge body, but that is vulnerable to the dark power. His shadow form can be crushed or shredded, but not as easily as mine.”
“I was surprised you were so easily injured. I had not thought you were so vulnerable to mundane weapons.”
“Only if I am not expecting them.”
“I assume that this time you will be?”
He nodded. “I intend to summon a large number of demons, some to guard my back, the rest to distract Arkonen.”
“Can they be trusted?”
“Once I have summoned them, they have no choice but to obey me.”
“What use are they against the Dark Lord?”
He looked impatient. “They will serve to distract him and guard me from his demons, which will attack me from behind, as they did before.”
“Can they not do any more than distract him?”
“Their weapons may do some small amount of harm if they penetrate his wards, but that is unlikely to affect him.”
“I see.” She gazed out across the gloomy land with its endlessly falling ash. “You have the power to stop this, do you not?”
He followed her gaze. “Yes.”
“If you did, it would allow the Lady’s power to reach us.”
“Which would do me no good, but ending this would take a great deal of power.”
She sighed. “What about Mirra?”
“He will use her as a shield.”
Her eyes flicked to him. “But you will not harm her.”
“No.”
“Then how do you intend to defeat him?”
His expression was bleak. “I will find a way.”
“Of course you will.”
After a pause, he turned to her once more. “What becomes of me when this is all over?”
“That is up to you. Give up the dark power, and you could live a normal life. Keep it, and you will be an outcast, feared by everyone. Should you then seek out a quiet place to live away from people, they will eventually forget you still live. Or, you could take up the blue power.”
He snorted. “Blue mages are weak, pathetic.”
“All the great ones are dead, and the skill has been lost. You would not merely be a mage, though. You would still be very powerful.”
“I have met one of your great blue mages, and his power was nothing compared to mine.”
“Yes, but it did not corrupt him. Blue mages are highly respected, and once the Black Lord has been cast down, you will not need to be so powerful. You will not need any power at all.”
“You would like to see me stripped of it, would you not?”
“Only because it will corrupt your soul,” she said.
“And then I would become a threat to you.”
“Perhaps.”
His expression hardened. “You cannot force me to give it up.”
“No. We would not try.”
“Good. If you did, I might decide to finish what Arkonen started.”
“And perish yourself, ultimately.”
His eyes glinted. “Your arguments are like a rat gnawing at my mind, old woman.”
“Good, perhaps it will find some sense in there somewhere.”
Bane glared at her, then marched away in the direction of his room, to rest, she hoped, before the coming conflict. Ellese sighed and walked back to the chapel to join her sisters in prayer.
The following morning, at the breaking of a dark dawn that scarcely lightened the gloom, Bane entered the courtyard with his potions. The soldiers who rested there left, not wishing to witness another Gather, and the healers who tended to them followed. The dark power in the air sickened everyone, and some could no longer eat because of it. Ellese watched him from a doorway, Martal beside her. Bane drew his dagger, then hesitated, testing the thickness of the power around him. The seven runes had been cut only a few days ago, and, although the white fire had healed them, the portals of power remained open. With so much readily available, he decided that he could forgo cutting them again.
Sheathing the dagger, he pulled open his shirt and smeared some of the black potion on his chest, then traced each symbol. He did so in the same order in which he had cut them before, starting at the top right and working his way down to the lowest at the centre of his chest. Each rune glowed as he traced it, and when all seven burnt with blood-red light, he raised his arms.
The power rushed into him with sickening intensity, no longer confined to shadows but all around him, as it had been in the Underworld, only much less. The lack of rune cutting slowed it, for which he was grateful. The faint, banshee howling became audible as the Gather gained momentum, and the darkness sank into his bones. Once more, a vortex formed around him, cloaking him in shadows that owed nothing to the presence of light. He let it flow into him in a burning river, filling him with its foulness that chilled his bones and burnt his blood.
In the doorway, Ellese’s stomach knotted and her heart grew heavy with dread for him. Would she lose him to the darkness? Would it triumph in the end, and corrupt his soul? That was a possibility too horrible to contemplate, and all too real. Already, he refused to give it up, a bad sign. If he did not, ultimately it would claim him, then destroy him.
What would he do if Mirra died? He was too wild to predict, torn by conflicts that could destroy him unless he found something to cherish. That which he had found now teetered on the brink of corruption, threatening to rescind the scrap of hope he clung to and let him sink into the sea of evil that surrounded him. Last night, she had looked into her glass at Mirra huddled in the corner of the rune room, her eyes wide and blank, her arm a monstrosity of scales and claws.
The shadow vortex thickened until Bane was hidden within it, then it cleared as he cut the Gather, dispersing. Sweat beaded his brow, his lips were compressed in a grim line and his eyes were black. Ellese wanted to go to him and embrace him, give him what assurances she could, but remained rooted to the spot. He would only reject her, especially now. Tears blurred her vision as he strode away through the gates, heading out into the dead land.
Bane walked to the edge of the hallowed ground, where three demons rose to bow to him, the survivors of those he had summoned. He ignored them, gazing for a while in the direction of the Old Kingdom, where the gloom was complete. Turning his attention to the task at hand, he lighted a fire with a trickle of power and summoned more demons, fire, earth and air. For each one, he uttered the guttural god words, ‘eyre myrdrath’, followed by a name, the appellations born in the recesses of his mind, a gift of the dark power.
Earth demons rose all around him, and fire demons stepped from the flames in a steady stream, bowing to him before taking their place amongst the growing throng. All were greater demons in true form, powerful enough to destroy cities and armies. When more than a hundred were gathered around him, he swept them with cold eyes, meeting equally frigid stares that slid away in enforced respect.
“You will guard my back during the battle,” he ordered. “Let no threat reach me. And you will attack the Black Lord, draw his attention.” He pointed at a group of earth demons. “You will snatch the healer from Arkonen the moment you see an opportunity. You will not harm her. You will carry her at all speed to the hallowed ground and release her. You will allow nothing to harm her. Is that understood?”
The demons nodded, their stony eyes baleful.
“Then you will return to guard me. Nothing else.” He raked them with another glacial glance. “Now go to the place where the last battle was fought, and wait.”
As they sank into the ground or shrank into tiny flames, he closed his eyes and opened his mind to the far-see. Arkonen stood in the Old Kingdom temple, a bevy of droges and demons, some in man shape, surrounding him. A young Chegdhin girl lay on the bloody altar, ready for sacrifice. Several others had already met that fate, judging by the pile of bodies in a pool of blood. The hearts that had been cut from them burnt in braziers, exuding foul smoke.
A droge in a red priest’s robe, sacrificial dagger in hand, stood ready to cut out the sacrifice’s heart. This, Arkonen did merely for sport. It served no purpose other than to feed his lust for death and suffering. Now that the Overworld was at his mercy, he had no need of the small amount of power each sacrifice drew from the Underworld. The girl’s eyes were wide with abject terror. She had not been given the drugs that eased her ordeal, and her fear added to the Black Lord’s pleasure. The droge raised the dagger, and Bane opened his eyes, ending the far-see. He Moved.
The Demon Lord rematerialised beside the altar. The sensations that had been lacking in the far-see rushed in on him. The girl’s scream tore the air, and the smoke’s stench almost made him gag. The droge with the dagger stumbled back, his mouth dropping open. Bane spared him a sharp, warning glance, then turned to face Arkonen. The rest of the droges and demons retreated, wary eyes fixed on the Demon Lord. The girl fell silent. The Black Lord’s momentary surprise was well hidden, but Bane glimpsed it with a twinge of satisfaction. The far-see had been too brief for Arkonen to sense. He smiled, tilted his head, and spread his arms as if to embrace Bane.
“Bane, my boy! It is good to see you. So glad you could join us for a little sport.”
Bane’s lip curled. “This is not a social visit, Arkonen. It is time.”
“Time? Time for what? Son, we can still patch things up. It is not too late.”
“Yes it is. And I am not your son.”
Arkonen’s smile widened as he eyed Bane. “You have certainly made a remarkable recovery. How did you manage it?”
“You do not care how I did it, but it is done. It is time to finish this.”
“Ah, Bane.” Arkonen chuckled. “Such brave words. Such heroism! The healers must be falling at your feet.”
“Do not mock me.”
“Why not? This is foolish. It is a joke. We can no more fight each other than rain can fall upwards.” He laughed. “The healers have lied to you. There is nothing you can do. You are a foolish boy, but let us not argue. Have some wine. It is very good.”
The Black Lord picked up a goblet from the altar, its base sticky with blood, and offered it to Bane. He raised an arm and pointed at a nearby droge, who shrieked and dived for cover.
“I said, do not mock me.”
Arkonen lifted the goblet to his lips and sipped. “All right. You want the girl. You can have her. Just swear to give up this stupidity.”
“No.”
“You do not want her? I thought you did. Well, in that case, I will sacrifice her.”
“I will not swear anything to you, and I will get her back on my own.”
“Now that will be difficult.” Arkonen smirked.
Bane’s eyes raked the demons and droges, who cringed. “I know where she is, and I do not intend to go in there. You will come to the place where we fought before.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You do not want to fight me here, with a Source so close by.” Bane jerked his head at the monstrous new temple. “It would even the odds too much, would it not? In your dark form, you Gather more easily and faster than me, but with that so close, I can match you.”
“And what good would that do you? We have already tried this, and you almost died. This time, you will.”
“You will not find it so easy to practice your treachery now.”
“Ah yes, you summoned some demons. I noticed that. To guard your back, I take it?” Arkonen smirked. “But while you have a hundred, I can summon hundreds more.”
“And I can destroy them.”
“As I can yours. Come now, this is futile. You can summon more, of course, so can I. We could wipe out the entire demon population, but what good would it do us?”
Bane glanced at the demons. “I would enjoy it. I always did. I just did not tell you before. It is far more satisfying than a human sacrifice.”
“Now you are being obnoxious.”
“You have to face me. If you do not, I will undo what you have done to the Overworld, and destroy any demon I find. What will you be without your minions? These fawning servants you surround yourself with are all you have. Imagine if I destroyed them all. You would be alone, apart from the droges.”
“You cannot undo what I have done here.”
“You know I can,” Bane said. “And if you fight me, we will be locked in an endless struggle.”
“Not endless. You would die eventually.”
“But not before I have destroyed all your demons. And it would certainly spoil your fun. You wanted me dead... Well, here I am. Kill me. Rid yourself of the only person who can challenge you, who can summon away all your demons and send them against you.” Bane smiled. “I do not have to destroy them. I can make you do it. I only have to destroy the ones you have summoned.”
“I almost killed you once. I can do it again.”
“Not the same way. Try it.”
“Destroy one demon, and the girl dies.”
“If the girl dies, I will destroy you.”
“You cannot,” Arkonen sneered. “In a few days, the Lady’s fire will die, and my demons will destroy the temples. Then you will have nowhere to hide.”
“If you do not fight me, I will return to the New Kingdom and fight on the side of the Lady. I shall clear the skies and restore her power to the temples. Then you will never conquer the Overworld. You will have only half of it. If you want it all, you must kill me.”
“You would not dare.”
“Watch me.”
“Why have you not done it already then?”
Bane shrugged. “I have been a bit under the weather. But I am well now. Defeat me, and you get the Overworld. Refuse to fight, and you only get half. With my powers, I will live for a thousand years.”
“You will be corrupted in fifty, and on my side.”
“Do not count on it.”
Arkonen considered. “Very well, if this is the way you want to die, so be it.”
“Good.” Bane gave a curt nod. “I shall be waiting.” He Moved.
Arkonen scowled at the place where Bane had been. The red-robed droge emerged from behind the altar and straightened, brushing at his robes.
“Could he do that, Lord? Free the New Kingdom?”
“Yes.” The Black Lord glared at him. “Quite easily.”
“Then you intend to kill him?”
“Absolutely. Fetch the girl.”
Ellese gazed at the image in her scrying glass, her heart leaden. Bane stood on a hill in the area the previous battle had blackened and gouged, awaiting the Black Lord. A demon host gathered at a respectful distance, facing him. She blinked away the tears that threatened to blind her. He looked so small and insignificant against the backdrop of huge demons and dark sky. His pale skin almost glowed in the gloom, and his hair gleamed like polished silk. The more power he Gathered, she had noticed, the more the darkness strived to protect him with the powerful allure it bestowed.
The most senior healers of the Goddess’ Temple sat nearby in the abbess’ upstairs study, awaiting news of the battle upon which their lives depended, while the rest continued to pray in the chapel. Their faces were haggard and their hands clasped to stop any nervous wringing or fidgeting. These were women she had always revered as the most exalted of their kind, given the sacred trust of the greatest abbey in the land. Their seeress sat at another table, gazing into her own glass. Her cry jerked Ellese from her reverie, and the elder mothers tensed.
“He comes!”
Bane turned as dozens of earth demons rose without warning. The earth was already black and covered with ash, so no rings surrounded them. Their number grew rapidly, and they gathered in a circle a short distance away, awaiting their master. A preternatural hush hung in the still air. The lightning and thunder had ceased a day ago, when the Overworld had accepted defeat and the storm of its struggle had died.
A surge of dark magic signalled the arrival of his opponent, and the Black Lord appeared in the centre of the demon circle, still clad in his droge form, Mirra at his side. He used a little magic to light a fire, and scores of fire demons stepped from it. Arkonen walked closer, towing Mirra by one arm, his expression smug. Bane noticed that the arm Arkonen held was wrapped in a cloth, and appeared misshapen. After retching in the aftermath of the Move, Mirra stared ahead with empty eyes.
Arkonen made an expansive gesture with his free hand. “Well, here I am.”
“Indeed,” Bane replied. “Still hiding behind a girl, I see.”
The Black Lord smirked. “An excellent shield.”
“You are too cowardly to face me without her. You know you would lose a fair fight.”
Arkonen laughed. “You have become arrogant, and proud. I came for some sport, nothing more. If you do not adequately entertain me, seeing you watch her die might prove more enjoyable.” He surveyed Bane’s demons. “An impressive army, but useless against me.”
“I see you brought your own.”
“Yes, it should be interesting to watch them pound each other to dust and ashes. A waste, though. But it will be even more entertaining to tear you apart.”
“It should be amusing to see you try.”
Arkonen’s eyes narrowed. “Such confidence, for one so young and stupid. You forget, I have been around for more than two thousand years, and most of that time was spent as a god. You, on the other hand, have barely managed twenty years, yet you think you can beat me. Amusing, indeed.”
Bane smiled. “One thing I have not acquired in my short lifetime is the need to ramble on about the obvious as if everyone else is an idiot.”
The Demon Lord spread his hand, and a sword appeared in it. He leapt forward and brought the weapon down in a mighty stroke that cleaved the Black Lord in half from head to crotch. The halves melted away, and Arkonen swelled, taking on a four-armed, three-eyed demonic aspect with great bat wings. Red sparks swirled within the blackness like swarms of tiny, maddened fireflies, and his yellow eyes shone, lamp-like. He smiled foully, and his laughter bellowed forth.
Behind Bane, the earth demons hurled their twisted iron spears with enough force to penetrate stone, setting up an eerie whistling. The shield that sprang into being around Arkonen consumed all but two, and the holes they tore in his shadow form swiftly closed. The Black Lord’s earth demons loosed a hail of whistling iron death at Bane, but his fire demons rose to snatch them from the sky and turn them to slag. The few that got through Bane batted aside with a lash of force. Earth demons roared and stamped, shaking the ground with their massive legs.
Bane swung the sword again, severing the arm that held Mirra. She tottered as her support vanished, and an earth demon raced forward to try to snatch her away. A lash of power from the Black Lord turned it to scattered soil, and Mirra fell. Arkonen’s shield consumed another volley of iron spears in fiery flashes, and his fire demons rose to parry them as Bane’s did. The earth demons drew the crude spears from the ground, forming them within the earth with their will and causing them to rise to the surface.
Arkonen dragged Mirra back to his side, then flung a bolt of dark fire that ripped rocks and soil from the ground, hurling them at Bane. He sprawled, rolled as his shields deflected the mass of earth, then sprang to his feet and became invisible. The Black Lord snarled, his eyes seeking his opponent with raking beams of hot light. The flying spears buzzed like wasps, and fire demons’ eyes melted them. Bane Moved to Arkonen’s side and grasped the Black Lord, his Gather causing his opponent’s wings and two arms to shrivel. At the same time, he dispensed with the invisibility, its purpose served.
Mirra staggered free and fell to her knees, gagging. Another earth demon ran forward to grab her, but Arkonen smashed it aside with one of his remaining arms. The seven runes on Bane’s chest shone with the power of his Gather, and the banshee song howled around him. Unable to contain so much, he channelled the excess upwards in a column of darkness that burnt the thunderheads away, and a beam of sunlight shot down. Arkonen growled and leapt aside. An earth demon sprinted to Mirra and snatched her up, but five of Arkonen’s minions rushed to intercept it, their fists ripping chunks from its earthen body. Demons raced into the fray from both sides, those that served Bane struggling to protect the girl.
Bane strived to hold Arkonen in the light. The power he directed upwards tore open the clouds even as the Black Lord dragged him away from it. Arkonen’s strength surpassed Bane’s, however, and his aversion to light gave him more. Shadows rushed into the Black Lord to replace those that Bane’s Gather drew from him, and he reached for Bane’s throat. The Demon Lord raised the sword and slashed at Arkonen, lopping off the remaining arm on his left side.
The Black Lord howled, regenerating the lost limb in moments, and his right hand almost closed about Bane’s throat. Bane released him and Moved, rematerialising close to the embattled demons around Mirra. He lashed out with a shadowy scythe, annihilating several of the Black Lord’s minions. Spinning to face Arkonen as he sensed a threat from behind, he Moved again as a huge boulder thudded into the ground where he had been standing. It rolled into the mass of demons, bowling several over.
A swift glance assured Bane that a demon held the girl safely, protecting her from the mighty brawl around it as earth demons struck each other, breaking off clods of soil. Several fire demons joined the fray, burning the struggling earth demons. The lash of their blazing eyes crisped demon soil, turning it to lava that sloughed off in streams. Several earth demons sank down in defeat, their power consumed.
The battle’s roar was deafening, the gritty thudding of earth demons’ blows mingling with the booming and growling of fire demons’ flames. Bane burnt several more earth demons to dust, cursing when he could not release the one that held Mirra. Several of his demons formed a protective wall around it, but more of Arkonen’s minions rushed into the melee all the time, replacing those that Bane destroyed. The larger battle continued, spears whistling above to be destroyed by fire demons before they struck either of the greater antagonists.
Bane whipped around as several booms came from behind him. Arkonen charged towards him, having just destroyed the four fire demons that had sought to stop him. Arkonen smashed him backwards and sprang after him, as lithe as a cat. Bane raised the sword in time to stab it through Arkonen’s belly, slowing his attack, and jerked up his legs to plant his feet against the Black Lord’s midriff, holding him at bay. Releasing the sword, he smashed his fists into Arkonen’s face, tore the shadow form and obliterated one eye.
Arkonen reared back and raised his fists to crush Bane, who flung up his arms. A domed shield sprang into being, absorbing the blows. It drew power from the attack as Bane renewed his Gather once more, and Arkonen recoiled. The Demon Lord yanked the sword from Arkonen’s belly and swung it in a lightning-fast slash that almost cut the shadow form in half. The Black Lord howled and recoiled again, allowing Bane to jump up. Two demon spears tore through Arkonen and thudded into the ground near Bane, making him step aside with a glare in the general direction of the throwers. Although they had not been aimed at him, their trajectory had been poorly judged, and he did not wish to perish by one of his own demons’ spears.
The Black Lord paused, eyeing Bane, who glared at him. Exertion quickened his breath and sweat dewed his brow. The damage to Arkonen’s shadow form had already repaired itself, and his Gather thickened his substance to solidity once more. Bane had only suffered a few bruises so far, since Arkonen had not yet chosen to resort to edged weapons. That, Bane sensed, was about to change, for the Black Lord’s fury grew with each setback. The Demon Lord glanced at the mob of battling demons, where his minion still held Mirra safe but could not move. The rest seethed in a thudding, growling melee around it.
Arkonen followed his gaze and gave a grating chuckle. “Worried about your sweetheart, boy? If my demons do not tear her apart, I will, and I shall enjoy it.” A false smile curved his maw. “Last chance to stop this stupidity, Bane. Take the girl, go somewhere and clear the skies. I will let you live there with her.”
“How generous of you,” Bane sneered. “I can take half this world if I choose. I do not need your permission. The fact that you are still trying to bribe me only proves that you know you cannot win.”
“Maybe not, but nor can you, and, if you continue with this, she will die. Then what will you have achieved?”
Bane Moved to Arkonen’s side and swung his sword in great strokes that sliced the dark god’s shadow form, shredding it. The Black Lord growled and vanished, fragments of his substance dispersing like smoke as they drifted down. Bane also became invisible as he continued to swing the sword, then he spun, the sword out-flung, meeting a resistance that told him he had struck Arkonen again. Leaping aside, he lashed out, using his best judgement of where Arkonen would go next, but this time the weapon cut air. He stood still, the sword poised, and stretched his senses to find his opponent, searching for the frisson of dark power that would give away Arkonen’s position. The whistling of demon spears stopped, since they no longer had targets to aim at, and instead they engaged each other in brutal combat.
Sensing a presence close behind him, Bane dropped and rolled, holding the sword close to his chest. He leapt up and lashed out at the spot where he judged Arkonen to be. The weapon cut air, and his senses warned him of a presence beside him as clawed hands closed around his neck, tightening in a choking hold. Bane swung the sword, and the blade met the resistance of Arkonen’s shadow form as he sliced through the arms that held him. The hold on his neck vanished, and he gasped smoky air.
Deciding that invisibility gave him no advantage when his opponent was also invisible, but only consumed power needlessly, Bane relinquished it. Arkonen appeared in front of him, a contemptuous smile on his ebon visage, his eyes bright.
“Stupid boy. You will not learn, will you?”
Arkonen conjured a sword and leapt at the Demon Lord, swinging it in wild, but well-aimed strokes that forced Bane to jump back and parry the attack.
“See what we are reduced to,” the Black Lord remarked as the blades clashed in a shower of sparks, “trying to chop each other up with mundane weapons like dirty humans.”
“I am human,” Bane snarled, parrying another swing of Arkonen’s sword.
Bane retreated from a barrage of scything strokes, able only to fend them off. He had not been trained to use a sword, and neither had Arkonen, yet he did seem to have a little more skill, perhaps gleaned from years of idle experimentation. All Bane knew was what he had seen human warriors do in battle, skills that had impressed him with their brutal deadliness, prompting him to occasionally conjure a sword and practice with it when he was alone.
That had not prepared him for a proper sword fight, however, and he retreated from the Black Lord’s onslaught, the clashing blades numbing his hands. Arkonen matched Bane’s unnatural speed, and his mortality was a grave disadvantage in a physical conflict. One good cut from Arkonen’s weapon could cripple him, and he could not afford to lose another battle. The demons, finding that their targets had reappeared, stopped fighting each other and hurled their spears again, resuming uncanny shrilling.
Reaching out with his mind, Bane summoned a mass of stone from deep within a distant mountain and released it above the Black Lord. Arkonen shouted a harsh word as he was buried under the rocks with a gritty rumble, allowing Bane a brief respite while the shadow form oozed free, minus his sword, which remained trapped beneath the rubble. Arkonen straightened with a foul smile, and the futility of their struggle struck Bane afresh. Sensing a surge of dark power beneath him, he Moved as a gaping hole appeared where he had been standing.
The Black Lord raised his arms and gestured, muttering, “Gre’ath dra rogane pry’vor nyresh. Vor dramyr leryn pryash grond.”
Soil and ash rose in a whirling eddy around him, rushing together to form a towering, monstrous shape, its substance hardening while Bane watched. The ground shuddered and groaned as fissures tore open beneath its feet, and molten metal poured in fountains from them, sheathing the construct with iron armour. Huge hands formed at the ends of long, thick arms, tipped with razor-edged steel claws. Spines burst forth to bristle along its back and mantle its sinuous neck. Its powerful legs ended in broad, clawed feet, and a massive tail dragged behind it, giving it added stability. Yellow eyes opened in its grotesque head, and its jaws sprouted sharp metal teeth.