Dark God (5 page)

The leader turned to Mirra,
raking her tattered robe with cynical eyes. "A healer, hey?" he
sneered, raising a brawny arm wrapped in a rough bandage stained
with brown blood. "Heal this."

Mirra shrank back. "I
cannot."

"I knew it." His eyes gleamed.
"You're no healer. You're just disguised as one."

"I have no power. There is no
sun."

"Sun's only been gone a few
days."

"I have had many to heal. It
used up my power."

His grin revealed crooked,
stained teeth. "I don't believe you."

"Please!"

The man who held her clamped a
filthy hand over her mouth, and the leader looked around at his
men. "Let's have some fun, boys!"

Bane sat up, brushing ash from
his tunic, his cold eyes fixed on Mirra. She was sure there was
hatred in them, and, as the men pulled at her clothes, he cocked a
brow in mocking enquiry. She tried to shake her head, but her
captor held her too firmly. Bane rose to his feet, but the bandits
ignored him. Clearly they had dismissed him as a threat, since he
was unarmed and only a youth. Mirra struggled harder as he raised a
hand and traced one of the runes on his chest.

"Leave her," he commanded.

The men stopped tugging at her
robe and turned to look at him in surprise. His expression was
contemptuous, and his pale eyes raked them with an icy glance.
Mirra jerked free of the hand over her mouth.

"Bane, no!"

He ignored her. "Let her go, and
I may let you live."

The one-eyed man laughed. "Hark
at him! Shut yer gob, boy!"

Bane's eyes frosted, and Mirra
cringed. The Black Lord had called him 'boy', and that he did not
appreciate it was obvious. Dread squeezed her heart, for he seemed
in imminent danger of using his power. Why else had he traced a
rune scar?

Desperate to stop him, she
cried, "Do not do it, Bane. You will die!"

The one-eyed man guffawed. "Too
right he will, girl. With my sword in his guts."

Drawing a rusty cutlass, he
walked towards the Demon Lord. Bane watched him, his expression
confident. As the bandit leader neared him, Bane pulled open his
tunic to reveal the rune scars, one of which glowed dull red. The
outlaw stopped, his mouth dropping open, and the hands that held
Mirra relaxed. She crawled away from the stupefied men, who gaped
at the Demon Lord. Bane's eyes locked with the bandit captain's,
and the man gulped.

"What are you, a black
mage?"

"No. Something far worse than
that, human filth. Would you like a demonstration?"

The man stepped back. "No."

"Unfortunate." He rubbed the red
mark that blossomed on his ribs. "You have to pay for this."

Bane turned
his head, and Orriss stepped from the trees in response to his
silent command. The
demon
steed stood revealed in all its otherworldly glory, from its
smouldering flanks to the leaping flames of its mane and tail. It
snorted fire, and its silver eyes glowed. The brigands cowered,
whimpering, and some crept away into the forest. The captain threw
down his weapon and scuttled away from Bane, as Mirra had seen so
many men do in the past, then fell to his knees and prostrated
himself.

"Demon Lord!"

Bane glared at him. "You dared
to strike me. You abused my property."

The man yammered, "I - I didn't
know, Lord, I swear!"

"Indeed. You
would have to be a monumental fool to attack me, would you not?"
His smile widened, becoming colder than Mirra would have believed
possible. He was enjoying this, she realised. The
demon steed pawed the ground, and
the outlaws gibbered.

Bane's smile
vanished. "My
demon steed is
hungry."

The bandit captain grovelled.
"Please, Lord, I beg for mercy! We'll do anything you say, just
spare us!"

A pang of anxiety went through
Mirra as she realised that Bane had no intention of letting these
men go. They had offended him, struck him, and he was not
accustomed to allowing such an insult to go unpunished. Too many
demons had hurt him in the Underworld, and he had learnt that the
only way to prevent such abuse was to strike back with deadly
force. She walked over to him, and his eyes flicked to her, filled
with fury.

"Let them go, Bane."

"Why? They would have raped you,
and probably killed me if they could."

"It does not matter."

"I do not have to use the power,
Orriss can do it."

She shook her head. "It is not
that. They have been punished, let them live."

Bane's hands
clenched as if he wanted to hit her. "I am sick of your
self-righteous prating. They struck
me!"

She stood her ground, raising
her chin. "Let them go."

His hand swung up, and her eyes
followed it, then he spun away, lowering it. "Damn you."

She turned to the grovelling
bandit. "Go, quickly."

Mirra had never seen men move so
fast. One moment they were there, the next, only the soft sigh of
the wind in the leaves and the faint trilling of a distant bird
disturbed the wood's peace. Bane stood with his back to her, his
shoulders stiff and his hands clenched. After she had gathered up
their belongings and put them back in the pack, she walked over to
stand beside him.

"What would killing them have
achieved?"

"Satisfaction," he growled.

"It was unnecessary. They were
already terrified."

He snorted. "They deserved it.
They are scum."

"Even such as they can find
redemption, if given the chance. How did you make the rune
glow?"

He looked down at it. "This?
Easy. It requires no power at all. It is merely activated, like
so." He traced another rune, making it glow. "It is just to limit
my use of the power. The more I activate, the more power I can use,
although if I need more, the others will become active on their
own."

"Have you ever used seven?"

"No." He rubbed the faded scar
in the centre of his chest. "Not since my... the Black Lord cut
it."

She shivered, gazing at the
runes. "Can you stop them glowing?"

"Of course." He looked down at
the scars, and the glow vanished, then his eyes flicked up to her
again as he fastened his tunic.

Mirra smiled. "Thank you for
letting them go."

He shrugged. "You asked." A
slight frown furrowed his brow. "Actually, you ordered, which I do
not appreciate."

"Does it matter to you, what I
want?"

Bane's face stiffened, and he
eyed her. "I suppose so."

Mirra laid a hand on his arm,
and he stood still for once. "Why?"

"I suppose... I owe you my
life."

"I owe you mine."

He shifted with apparent unease.
"What of it?"

"The debts are cancelled. What
is the real reason?"

He frowned. "You know perfectly
well. Your damned spell."

"And you ought to know by now
that there is no spell."

"Ought I?" He swung away,
shaking her off. "Whether I do or not is none of your damned
business."

Striding to
the
demon steed, he picked up
the pack and flung it onto the stallion's back, then mounted,
frowning at her before holding out his hand. Orriss had resumed its
normal horse aspect, and they set off again.

As they rode, she pondered his
strange mood swings and the lameness of his argument, wondering
what was the matter with him. He seemed defensive, almost confused,
but perhaps it was the odd situation in which he now found himself
and the pain of the Black Lord's betrayal. He still did not trust
her, but found himself with no choice now, unless he rejected her
advice as lies and went after the Black Lord alone. She wished that
she understood him better, but since he hated to be questioned, he
remained a mystery. Despite his harshness towards her, his
confusion wrung her heart.

Chapter
Three

The Lady's Temple

T
hree more days of
travel through a gloomy, ash-covered countryside brought them to
the Lady's Temple. The demon steed's tireless gallop ate up the
miles at an astonishing rate, covering the distance that had taken
them weeks of travel at the army's pace. Its powers now had full
rein, with no wards to constrain it, and when they crossed wild
areas where no one would see them, its flying hooves swallowed up
the leagues. They learnt, from their encounters with bandits, to
avoid thickets and woodland, and the detours they had to make made
little difference to their time, since the demon steed could travel
much faster in open country.

Twice they
spotted bands of mounted men in the distance, but their speed was
such that they were far past before the outlaws even had time to
turn towards them. Mirra came to appreciate the stallion's powers,
even though it was from the Underworld. Without the
demon steed, it would have taken
them far too long to reach the Lady's Temple, she was sure. The
threat of the Black Lord was constant, even though, for the moment,
he had settled in the Old Kingdom. When he chose to move, it would
be at his own demon steed's lightning pace, or worse, he would use
his power and Move, as Bane could not. Their swift travel brought
them to their destination before the Black Lord could deduce what
they were up to, otherwise he would have overtaken them before they
reached the temple, Mirra was certain.

As they entered the grounds,
Orriss balked, digging in its heels and propping to a halt, its
hoof prints smoking. Bane helped Mirra down, then slid off.

"It can go no further. This is
hallowed ground," he explained, pulling off the heavy pack and
dumping it on the ground.

The
demon steed tossed its head and
cantered away, leaving them to finish the journey on foot. Bane
picked up the bag that contained his potions and spare clothes,
leaving the tent and furniture. Beneath the racing black clouds,
the Goddess' Temple gleamed pale grey in its garden of flowering
trees and shrubs. No ash fell here, and the lush countryside was
unspoilt, although it did not benefit from the sun's warm
light.

A vivid meadow surrounded the
temple, and tall forests crept up the low hills beyond it. After
that the land became untamed. Belts of woodland ran through
flower-spotted meadows where sheep and cattle grazed. The temple
was far larger than any abbey Mirra had ever seen. A slender bell
tower rose above the sweeping, pointed archway that framed the main
doors whose golden wood was studded and banded with polished brass.
The bell tower's domed silver roof gleamed in the dull light, and
beneath it, white granite edged the steeply slanted grey slate
roof. The tall, stained-glass windows, rimmed with white granite,
bore images of the Lady in her various poses. Above the main doors,
a circular window featured her most popular likeness, her hands
spread and her eyes downcast as she blessed the multitudes.

At the rear of the chapel,
corridors led to the abbey's dormitories, which bordered the inner
courtyard with its garden, fountains and shady paving, where the
healers relaxed and meditated. Two fountains bordered the path that
led the abbey's doors, and a pair of spreading mage trees shaded
it. The trees' pale, gnarled branches wept sweeping streamers of
white flowers and slender grey-green leaves. Hedges of moon fire
bushes swept out on either side of the entrance, the silvery
blossoms shimmering against a backdrop of almost black leaves. In
front of it, beds of white, orchid-like snow blossoms flourished
beside cloud shrubs whose filigree white leaves gave off a delicate
mint scent.

Mirra and Bane walked along the
narrow dirt road that led to the temple's forecourt, where young
acolytes worked in the gardens, hoeing and pruning, their girlish
laughter carrying on the crisp air. As the pair drew closer, a girl
looked up and gazed in their direction. Mirra waved, but the girl's
eyes were fixed on the Demon Lord. She yelled and ran, making the
others look up in alarm, then join her in a white-robed stampede
into the temple. Clearly they had been warned of his coming, and
knew who he was.

Mirra glanced at Bane, trying to
see him as they did, for she was used to him now. He towered beside
her, his ankle-length black cloak, which hung from his broad
shoulders, showing flashes of crimson satin lining as he walked.
His eyes were no longer bloodshot, and his too-red lips were the
only outward sign of his illness, but she thought that he cut a
demonic, god-like figure, despite his youth.

He glanced at her. "Do I look
like a monster, or is it just my reputation?"

Mirra giggled, relieved that he
could quip about his effect on the girls. "They are just young and
easily scared. You look forbidding, but not monstrous."

He seemed unconcerned. "I
suppose they have reason to fear me."

"You must put that all behind
you. Do not torment yourself with guilt about what you did. That
was the Black Lord, not you."

His brows rose. "I am not
tormented by guilt."

Mirra shot him a shocked look,
wishing that he was. At least it would show that he had a
conscience, and was not inherently evil. Then again, she reminded
herself, he was still filled with the dark power, which warped his
thinking and twisted his reason, probably robbing him of a
conscience as well. In fact, right now he carried more of the
corruption within him than ever, since he had been forced to leash
the massive energies he had Gathered at the seventh ward. Only once
he was purged would his true nature be revealed. She had glimpsed
it on occasion, when his tasks had drained his power, and then he
had been a troubled, unhappy man. Even then, however, his loyalty
to the Black Lord had made him angry and scornful.