Mirra groaned, "Oh, no."
Bane's eyes brightened, and he
straightened his tunic, throwing back his cloak to reveal its
crimson lining. Baron Martal strutted up to them, Ellese in his
wake, looking cross and worried.
"You!" The Baron pointed a rude
finger at Bane. "Yes, you, you son of a bitch! I want to talk to
you!"
Bane's lip curled, and he drew
himself up to his full height, looking down at the far shorter man.
His icy eyes raked the Baron's vainglorious figure in its peacock
trappings of yellow and gold.
Baron Martal stopped and thrust
his pugnacious face forward. "You murdering bastard! I want you to
know, I would rather slit your throat than guard you."
"Then why do you not try?" Bane
sneered.
"Oh, I would love to, but I
promised the healers, and my word is my bond." Martal's pale brown
eyes raked Bane. "I want to see you and that foul monster destroy
each other."
"Something else you do not have
the courage to try?"
Martal's face turned beet red.
"I would, if he was not surrounded by demons, and full of that foul
black power!"
"So you are outmatched, are you
not? Since I can destroy him, and you cannot, you ought to be more
polite."
"That is enough!" Ellese stepped
between them, glaring at each in turn. "We are on the same side.
Martal, your conduct is unseemly, and Bane, your responses are
immature. We have a job to do, and I will have no infighting."
Bane shrugged. "He was looking
for it."
"And you were only too pleased
to give it to him."
Martal turned to Ellese. "I do
not know how you can stomach this Underworld scum in your
temple."
Bane growled, "I do not know how
she can stand having a foul-mouthed, overdressed, conceited little
prig like you anywhere near her temple."
"You need me!" Martal blared.
"Without my protection, you are a walking corpse, boy!"
Bane's eyes narrowed. "And
without me, your precious world will soon be lifeless wasteland,
lighted by the inner fire and home only to demons, droges, and the
Black Lord."
"Who is to blame for that, you
bastard? Who broke the wards?"
"I did not see you standing in
my way. You were hiding in your castle, piddling in your
britches."
Martal purpled and swung a meaty
fist, which Bane sidestepped, letting him stumble past. The Baron
whipped around, but Ellese imposed herself between them again.
"Stop it! That is quite
enough!"
Mirra tugged on Bane's arm, and
he let her pull him away.
Martal's parting shot came
ringing after him at parade ground volume. "I am going to take
great pleasure in killing you, if your father does not manage
it!"
Bane strode away without a
backward glance, his cloak billowing. Mirra trotted beside him,
glancing up at him anxiously. Inside the temple, he stopped and
leant against a wall. The purges left him weak, sapping his
strength as they drained his power. He seemed empty of dark magic
already, yet each purge still evinced a blue glimmer.
Mirra touched his arm. "Are you
all right?"
He nodded. "It is not going to
be easy living in the Overworld when every farmer and his son will
want to kill me."
"No, they will not," she stated
without hesitation. "You will be the one to save them. You will
right the wrong you did by breaking the wards."
"That will not bring back the
people they lost. They will be out for revenge."
Mirra shook her head. "We
healers have a lot of power. There will be a proclamation that you
are pardoned of all crimes committed while under the Black Lord's
influence, and any who try to harm you will pay dearly."
Bane smiled with genuine warmth,
which reached his eyes for the first time, and she gazed at him in
wonder. Footsteps rang in the hall, and he glanced up, his smile
vanishing when he spotted Ellese bearing down on them, murder in
her eyes.
"Bane!" Anger sharpened her
tone. "That was a disgraceful display of bad manners."
Bane's
face became stony. "He insulted
me."
"You did not have to
reciprocate. It would have been more dignified to say nothing, then
he would have looked like a fool."
His lip curled. "If you know me
as you claim to, you should know that I do not tolerate insults,
not from anyone."
Ellese sighed and tucked an
errant strand of hair into her bun. "You are so large and
overpowering, I sometimes forget how young you are. Martal would
have been completely cowed if you had just glared at him with those
chips of ice you use for eyes. You did not have to say anything. He
is afraid of you. You are the Demon Lord, for pity's sake. You just
had to say 'boo' and he would have run a mile."
"He did not seem scared to
me."
"That was bravado. He was
shaking in his boots."
"Indeed? I must try out your
theory sometime."
Alarm blossomed in her eyes.
"No! Bane, leave him alone. If you chase him away, we will all
suffer."
Bane gave a
nasty laugh and pushed himself away from the wall, continuing down
the hall to his room. Mirra followed him, and
, when they entered his room and closed the
door, cast him a worried look.
"You will not scare away Martal,
will you?"
He turned to her and shrugged.
"It will serve her right for lecturing me, to think so. She says I
am immature, but I grew up mighty fast down there."
"But you did not learn to
control your temper, because cold silence does not work on demons
or droges, does it?"
"No." Bane walked over to the
bed and stretched out on it, closing his eyes, so she left him to
rest.
That afternoon, Martal's men dug
a huge trench around the abbey, throwing up a wall of mud. An army
of workmen joined them, drafted in from nearby villages. Cartloads
of freshly cut poles arrived, and the workmen dug a second trench
outside the first, in which they planted the sturdy poles, forming
them into an eight-foot-high wall. Even further away, the workmen
dug murder holes, deep pits bristling with sharpened stakes to
impale any who fell into them. A flimsy layer of thin poles, over
which the turf that had been dug out was replaced, making them
invisible, covered each hole. A third, shallow trench was dug
outside the wooden stockade and filled with oil-soaked wood.
Mirra stood at one of the
abbey's windows and watched the men toil in the freezing wind, the
soldiers stripped of their armour and bright livery. Martal marched
up and down the line, extorting them to greater efforts, muttering
about the vulnerability of the temple. He had tried to persuade
Elder Mother to take the healers and Bane to the safety of his
fortress, a formidable stronghold to the south.
Bane could only be purged in the
Goddess' Temple, however, so they had no choice but to remain here
and fight. Mirra looked up at the dark, angry sky with its swirling
clouds shot with flashes of distant lightning, and shivered. A
winged shape drifted to a window above her, fighting against the
tearing wind. A few moments later, the patter of bare feet made her
look around as a young healer, a raven perched on her shoulder,
came running past. Alarmed by the look on the girl's face, Mirra
stopped her.
"What is it?"
The girl shook with fear. "They
are coming! Yallee has seen them, not a day's march from here,
thousands! They are like a great black sea, horrible monsters
amongst them. They will overrun us! We are going to die!" She burst
into tears.
"Hush. We will be all right. The
baron will hold them."
"I must tell Mother."
The girl hurried away, the raven
flapping to keep its balance on her bobbing shoulder. Mirra turned
back to the window as she recalled the terrible day when Bane's
army had fought the Earl of Timon outside the sacked town, and had
defeated him so easily. Now they faced a larger army bent on
destroying the temple and killing all within, especially Bane.
Remembering the dreadful creatures that had followed Bane, she
looked down upon the fortifications without much faith that they
would hold for long.
Although she did her best to
remain positive about the Baron's ability to protect them for a
mere two days, she could not stifle a shiver of trepidation at the
frightening vision the young healer's description of the Black
Lord's army conjured up. Even the four trebuchet that had been
placed behind the final trench, their deadly ammunition of stone
wrapped in oil-soaked cloth beside them, did not inspire a great
deal of confidence in her now. Dread churned her stomach, and she
left the gloomy vista to search out some work, hoping to keep her
mind from dwelling on the horror to come.
The Black Lord's army arrived
that night. As it gathered around the temple, thousands of cooking
fires spotted the darkness like red stars. The deep muttering of
goblins and gnomes drifted to the temple on the wind, accompanied
by rock howlers' occasional shrieks and gibbers and distant screams
as the dark creatures hunted. Mirra had heard the dreadful sounds
before, but terror overwhelmed many young healers, who had to be
fed calming potions to still their hysterical weeping. Bane joined
Mirra and Ellese as they stood and gazed out at the dark army from
one of the abbey's balconies.
"I hope your Baron Martal has
plenty of clean britches," Bane murmured.
Ellese shot him a frown. "Do not
scorn him. Your safety depends on him too."
"He has no idea what he is up
against."
"Perhaps you should tell him.
Any help would be welcomed."
Bane snorted. "I cannot tell him
anything that he will not be able to see for himself tomorrow.
Knowing it tonight will not help him."
"Why do they wait?" Mirra
asked.
"They are resting after a hard
march, and preparing. More are still arriving, and they are
spreading out around the abbey so they can attack from all
sides."
"Is the Black Lord out there
with them?"
He nodded. "Not close, but near
enough to oversee them."
She turned to stare at the
distant fires, biting her lip.
Ellese glanced at Bane. "You
should be resting."
He glared at her, then stalked
away.
Ellese gazed after him. "He
hates me."
"No, Mother,
he is just confused. All this is new to him, and it is hard for him
to accept. He is used to being hated and feared. He cannot get used
to being around people who do not. He will
, though, and he has mellowed a lot already, since the
dark power has been drained from him."
Ellese sighed. "I just wish he
would accept my friendship, but he does not trust me, even
now."
Mirra put a hand on Ellese's
arm. "He will, just give him time."
"I have waited for twenty years,
my dear. It is hard to be patient any longer. I have loved him for
so long. It hurts when he looks at me like that."
"It is the influence of the dark
power, that is all."
Ellese shook her head. "No, it
is more than that. The Black Lord corrupted his mind as well as his
soul. The things he suffered down there... It does not bear
thinking about. He suspects everything that is said to him, hears
insults where there are none, hates kindness and sympathy. He
trusts no one, and it will take years for the wounds to heal. Some
may never heal completely."
"But once he is purged, he will
be different."
"Yes, for a while. What worries
me is once he is healed and has Gathered the dark power again to
defeat the Black Lord, will he be willing to give it up a second
time?"
Mirra looked shocked. "Of course
he will."
"Do not be so certain. He could
rule the world. There would be no way to force him to renounce it,
and the Goddess would be helpless to stop him, just as she cannot
defeat the Black Lord." She paused, glancing at Mirra. "You do know
by now what Bane truly is, do you not?"
Mirra hesitated, a slight frown
wrinkling her brow. "I have seen him turn copper into gold without
using the dark power. He said that it was merely a trick... but...
I did not think such a thing was possible."
"It is not, and that was no
trick." Ellese sighed. "Bane is a god, my dear. Arkonen made him
one before he tore him from his mother's belly. I also have trouble
with the idea. He is so... human." She smiled. "Yet that is what he
is, both human, and a god. Amazing, is it not?"
"Yes."
"And that is why he is so
dangerous. Years of torture have warped his reason. He is filled
with bitterness and hate, and he has the power to lay waste to this
domain if he chooses."
Mirra stared at Ellese, stunned.
"I did not think he was that powerful."
"Ah, but he is. Even he does not
know the true extent of his power, I suspect. It is hard to
imagine, when all we see is a young man, but he is, in fact, a
young god. He is immature, dangerously angry and bitter, and fully
capable of destroying this world."
"He would not do that. He told
me he is going to put it right."
"I pray that you are right, my
dear."
"I am certain of it. He spoke to
the Lady."
"But you do not know what she
said."
Mirra shook her head. "No."
"Then we can only hope that he
will do the right thing."
"Does he know what he is?"
Ellese sighed, fiddling with her
silver necklace. "I doubt it. Arkonen would not wish him to know
his true nature."
"Yet he knows that he is the
Black Lord's equal, and that Arkonen is a dark god. Surely he must
have realised by now."
"Perhaps. Either way, I do not
think it is something you should discuss with him now."
"No, of course not, Mother."
Mirra stared at the distant fires.