"If that is true, then when he
is purged he will change his mind."
Mirra glanced at her friend,
forcing a weak smile. "Maybe."
Ellese led Bane to his room,
where she turned to face him, holding out a white loincloth.
"You must undress and put this
on."
The Demon Lord scowled at her.
"Tell me what they will do to me."
"Are you afraid?"
"Tell me."
"It will not be pleasant. We
must strip every vestige of the dark power from you before we can
heal you. This will take some time, for if we do it too fast, it
could kill you. You will be chained to the altar, where the white
fire of the goddess will force out the evil. There may be a lot of
pain, so you must be prepared to suffer."
"Why must I be stripped of the
dark power before you can heal me?"
"It would be too dangerous to do
otherwise. We may be able to push past it, but the evil in you
would react against the healing, and you might die. It was a good
thing you would not let Mirra try, but then, we knew you would
not."
Bane turned and paced the room.
"I have the power to destroy the Black Lord now. Why cast it out,
only to take it up again?"
"Because if you use it now you
will die. Mirra told you that."
"Perhaps." He paused in his
pacing, shooting her a sidelong glance. "I would have died out
there on the plains, if not for the girl. But I have no use for
this world, and it wants me even less. I fight for vengeance, no
other reason, so what difference does it make whether I live or
die? You offer to heal me as a bribe, to gain my loyalty, but would
you still offer it if I told you that I intend to return to the
Underworld, even if I survive?"
Ellese nodded without
hesitation. "Yes, of course. We do not offer it as a bribe but
because we want to heal you. You have suffered enough. You do not
belong in the Underworld. This is your home. And you must have the
healing."
"I am only in danger when I try
to leash the power, and by then the Black Lord will be destroyed.
If I die, I will go to the Land of the Dead. It makes little
difference to me if I return to the Underworld as flesh or
spirit."
Ellese held out a hand in a
gesture of pleading, but he stepped around it. "We care about you.
We do not want you to die. Once you are free of the power, you will
no longer be evil."
"But I will always be the Demon
Lord."
"Yes. We cannot obliterate the
rune scars from your skin, and you will always be able to Gather
the shadows. But so long as you do not, you will have a normal
life, albeit a very long one."
"No." He stared out of the
window, then turned and paced again. "I do not wish to stay here in
this cold, wet land. I see little point in going through your
humiliating ritual when I intend to return to the Underworld
anyway. It is better this way." He spoke with decisive assurance,
as if he had already made up his mind.
Ellese stepped in front of him,
stopping his pacing. "You must not throw away your life. You are
young. And what about Mirra? She cares for you. You will break her
heart."
His eyes glinted with sudden,
irrational fury. "I make my own choices, old woman. I am sick of
you and that girl trying to run my life. You will not humiliate me,
strip and chain me to your goddess' altar. I will face the Black
Lord on my own terms, and if I die then so be it."
The seeress softened her voice,
knowing that the dark power within him affected his moods. "Why did
you come here then, if you did not mean to go through with it?"
Bane turned away, moving over to
the bed. "I brought the girl to safety."
"She will not be safe if the
Black Lord wins."
"The outcome will be the same,
whether I go through your ritual or not."
"Perhaps not. The healing will
make you stronger."
Bane's nostrils flared, and his
brow furrowed. "I do not need your help, old woman. I agreed to
come here for the girl's sake, but you have insulted me and
publicly humiliated me with my past, which you had no right to know
about. Now you want to chain me up and reduce me to a pathetic,
powerless human. I will defeat the Black Lord, and you will not see
me again, whether or not I live."
"No. Bane!" Ellese reached for
him, but with a surge of chill power, he vanished. She stood
stunned, then dread washed over her. He had used the dark power. He
had gone to face the Black Lord without the healing, and would die,
whether he won or lost. He had no intention of ever seeing his
father, and he rebelled against his feelings for Mirra. There was
no hope that he would survive the duel without healing, no matter
what he thought. Wringing her hands, she left the cell and hurried
back towards the chapel, stopping to gaze at the two girls who sat
in the garden. Anguish shot through her. Poor Mirra. Goddess, what
had he done?
As if reading her thoughts,
Mirra jumped up and ran to her, Tallis trotting in her wake. "What
is wrong, Mother? Where is Bane?"
Ellese's face twisted with
anguish. "He has gone. He refused to go through with the purging.
He has gone to face the Black Lord."
Mirra's mouth dropped open in
horror. "No! He must not! He will die!"
Elder Mother gazed at the
distant lightning with despair in her eyes. "He used the dark
power. He may already be dead. He does not care. He did not intend
to go through with the healing. He came here only to bring you. He
intends to return to the Underworld, dead or alive, but he will be
dead, that is certain."
"No!" Mirra turned and sprinted
towards the abbey gates, her bare feet flying over the grass.
"Mirra! Come back! There is
nothing you can do!" Ellese shouted.
Tallis started after her friend,
but Ellese grabbed her arm. "Not you too. You are staying
here."
Tallis' face twisted with
anguish as she stared at the fleeing white-robed figure.
Ellese made the sign of the
Goddess, whispering a heartfelt benediction. "The Lady watch over
you, child."
Bane did not
Move far. The Demon Lord reappeared just beyond the abbey grounds,
where he could summon the
demon steed. As the world settled into solidity around him,
agony stabbed his temples with hot needles. He cried out, clasping
his brow, shocked by the intensity of the pain from using so little
power. His knees buckled, and he sagged to the ground, groping for
the flask of potion Mirra had given him.
As he waited for the pain to
subside, he cursed the Black Lord with all the virulence his hatred
could summon. How he would enjoy destroying him. He would avenge
the death of the mother he had not known, his father's anguish, and
his own humiliation and betrayal. Even the rest of humanity, which
he had always scorned, deserved vengeance for the atrocities
committed against it.
No one could stop him now, and
the healers would not tamper with him. The victory would be his
alone. Then he would return to the warm caverns of the Underworld,
either to the Land of the Dead, or the Black Lord's empty court,
where he would rule for the remainder of his days. A pang of sorrow
went through him when he thought of the healer, for he would miss
her, but she would be happy, her world freed from the Black Lord's
foul reign. He bowed his head as the pain ebbed.
Mirra's lungs burnt as she ran
as fast as her legs would carry her, desperation squeezing her
heart. She had to stop Bane before he got to the Black Lord. He
must not die. She had no idea where he had gone, so she headed for
the blackest horizon, where surely the Black Lord was, beneath the
lightning that illuminated the sky with brilliant flashes. Thunder
growled in the distance, and the cold wind cut through her robe,
chilling her. Her legs were numb and her head swam as she sprinted
through the narrow stand of trees that marked the edge of the
temple grounds and burst into the open again.
Bane knelt on
the ground some distance away, and she goaded her tired legs to
greater effort as he rose to meet the
demon steed that galloped from the forest
beyond.
"Bane!" Her shout cut through
the stormy air like the lonesome cry of a distant seagull.
The Demon Lord
turned, his hair whipping in the wind, his cloak flaring. Behind
him, the
demon steed reared,
pawing the air. Beneath the racing black sky, he and the demon
steed made a tableau of ultimate evil. It seemed to take her an
eternity to reach him, and when at last she stumbled up to him, she
flung herself at him, not caring about his reaction. It seemed as
if his arms closed around her, and she sensed the evil strongly in
him. Then he shoved her away so violently that she tripped and
fell, her tired legs too slow to keep her balance.
"Go back to the temple!" Bane's
voice cracked with anger. "Why do you follow me like some damned
cur?"
Mirra sat up, gasping for air
after her wild run. "Bane... do not go like this. You must be
healed first."
"Leave me be! Go back and play
with your little friends. I do not need any help from you."
She scrambled to her feet, her
legs shaking. "You will die!"
Bane had
turned towards the
demon
steed, now he swung back. "Good! Then you will be rid of two
monsters! Am I not as bad as the Black Lord, maybe worse? I have no
wish to live in a world that hates me. I am the traitor who broke
the wards. All of you have used me, he to free him, you to protect
you, and now to destroy him. Well, I will! Not for you or your ugly
world, but for me! He will pay for what he did to me, and if we are
both destroyed, so much the better. I will not stay here, whether I
live or die!"
Mirra crept closer during his
tirade, her eyes filled with fear. "No, we do not hate you. You are
a victim, not a monster. I do not want you to die, none of us do.
Whether you stay here or return to the Underworld, the choice is
yours, but you must not die."
Bane snorted
and turned to the
demon
steed, but Mirra grabbed his cloak. He spun back, dangerously
angry. She thought that he would strike her, but instead he pried
her fingers from his cloak, his face carved in harsh, inflexible
lines.
"Go back to the temple. You will
be safe there. In a few hours it will all be over."
"No, Bane, no, please!" Mirra
fell to her knees. "Do not go, do not leave me!"
He stared at her, still plucking
her fingers from his cloak, confusion in the depths of his eyes. As
fast as he pried her hands loose, she renewed her grip, frustrating
his efforts to get free.
"Stop this!" he snarled. "Let go
of me!"
A sneering voice made his head
snap up. "Well, how sweet. The love sick healer and her lusty Demon
Lord."
Dorel stood there, dressed in
brown leggings and a bright red shirt, a hunter's cap sitting at a
jaunty angle on her red curls. A green waistcoat and sturdy boots
completed her outfit, but it was the crossbow she held that caught
his attention. It was aimed unwaveringly at his heart, and her
brown eyes glinted with cold glee. Mirra froze, staring up at the
droge.
"The Black Lord gave me
permission to kill you, Bane. I've always wanted to, you know. It
quite sickened me, fornicating with a dirty human."
Bane growled, "Had I known I was
not a vile thing like you, it would have sickened me too, you
damned dead piece of garbage."
Dorel hissed,
and her finger whitened on the trigger. He tensed, ready to hurl
himself aside, but Mirra sprang up between them. The crossbow's
string thrummed, and she was flung back with a soft grunt, a short
black bolt protruding obscenely from her chest. At Bane's silent
command, the
demon steed
leapt forward with a roar as Dorel fumbled for another bolt. Orriss
slammed into the droge, its fiery hooves slicing through her
bloodless pseudo-flesh, shredding her form. The crossbow fell from
her hands, and she went down under the hammering hooves.
Bane dropped to his knees beside
Mirra, cold dread piercing him at the sight of the blood that oozed
from the wound. "Use your power. Heal yourself!"
She coughed. "I... have
none."
Bane looked
up, raising his arms as he prepared to summon the dark power and
blast aside the clouds that blocked the sun. Mirra gripped his
shirt, and he looked down at her.
Red froth oozed from her mouth as she struggled to
speak.
"No, it will... kill you."
He frowned. "It does not
matter."
"Do not leave us at the mercy of
the Black Lord."
"I will have my revenge."
"Bane... do not leave me."
He stared down at her, confused
by the strange emotion that clogged his throat. "I will take you
back to the temple. The healers will make you better."
Her lips curved in a tremulous
smile, then the light faded from her eyes, and they drifted closed.
She sighed, and her head lolled to the side.
Bane tried to
find a pulse in her throat, detecting only a faint, fading flutter.
He bent and pressed his ear to her chest, but her heart was still.
Straightening, he frowned down at her delicate features, her soft
golden hair ruffled by the wind. He stroked her cheek, wondering
why he
was so empty. He had
seen many people die, and killed quite a number himself, but never
had he had any regret at their demise.
The emptiness
gnawed at him, spreading through him like fingers of fire,
consuming the cold pit at the centre of his being. For the first
time, he understood the meaning of loneliness. It welled up in him
like a black river. The walls of ice within him melted and
crumbled, bricks of frozen rage fired by years of pain and mortared
with hatred los
t their
cohesion. A new kind of pain seeped from the broken walls around
his heart, one that he had never experienced before, and never knew
existed. An exquisite, all-consuming pain.