Read Online Demon Lord VII - Dark Domain by T C Southwell - Free Book Online

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.”
    Sarjan stared
at the blood on Bane’s face. “You really are...”
    “Mortal?” Bane
snorted. “Yes, Sarjan, and I do not usually indulge in fist fights
with damned droges. It is much easier to rescind their forms or
burn them.”
    “You tore his
arm off...”
    “Are you going
to put the shackles on him before he recovers?”
    Sarjan’s eyes
flicked down to the droge. “But surely...?”
    “He will wake
up in a few minutes, and his head will reform.”
    The commander
gave the order, and the remaining soldiers approached the droge
with some reluctance and obvious distaste, one carrying the
manacles they had brought. When the droge’s remaining arm was
shackled to his waist, the soldiers dragged him away.
    Sarjan turned
to Bane. “I’m sorry... you were hurt. Thank you for capturing him.
I could take you to the hospital for treatment.”
    “Tend to your
injured men. I need no help from you.”
    Some of the
crewmen came forward to assist the injured soldiers while one keyed
a communications device, summoning medical