"He is terribly weak, Mother. He
cannot fight the Black Lord. It would kill him."
"I know. You must take him to
the Goddess' Temple, child. We will meet you there. Bane must be
cleansed and healed before he can wield the power again. And you
must hurry. Already the Black Lord wreaks havoc in the land, and
the clouds block out all the sunlight."
"That is far. We are still in
the Old Kingdom. How will we manage it?"
"You have
the
demon steed."
Mirra nodded. "I will try,
Mother."
"Good. Also, you must stop Bane
from eating the Underworld food. It corrupts him. And do not let
him use the dark power, Mirra. It could kill him now, and then we
are all doomed."
"His food is almost finished, so
he will have to eat normal food soon, but preventing him from using
the power will be difficult."
"I know, but you can do it. He
will listen to you now, as long as you are tactful. Hurry to the
temple. I will be watching over you, my dear."
The seeress' face faded, and
Mirra filled the water skins before going back to the tent, where
Bane slept like the dead, not stirring at her entry. She checked
his pulse and found it a little fast, but his forehead was
cool.
The next day dawned dark and
gloomy, with scudding black clouds hurrying across the sky on their
mission to block out the sun. A sharp chill pervaded the air,
making her breath steam and her nose numb. Bane was a little
stronger, but sunk in a bitter gloom almost as black as the sky. He
picked at the Underworld food she had prepared without appetite,
and she settled opposite, chewing on a sweet root that was her
meal.
"Bane, I spoke to my Elder
Mother yesterday, after you fell asleep, and -"
He frowned. "How did you do
that?"
"Oh, in a pool in the forest.
She is a seeress, and so am I, it seems."
"I suppose she spies on us just
as my - the Black Lord did."
"She watches us, yes. She is
very concerned about you. She wants me to take you to the Goddess'
Temple in the New Kingdom, so she can heal you."
His eyes flicked over her face.
"Are you mad? After what I have done, she will want to strike me
down."
"No, she understands. You are
our salvation now."
"I destroyed the wards. Now you
want me to save you?"
"Yes."
He snorted. "Why should I?"
"Because the Black Lord left you
to die, and we saved you. Because he used you, betrayed you, abused
your trust. Because you are human, and this is your world."
"I have no liking for it."
She smiled at his sullen tone.
"Because I asked you to?"
Bane's eyes narrowed, then he
shrugged. "I do not much care. If she strikes me down, I will go to
the Land of the Dead, as my... as the Black Lord intended."
"Then he will have truly won. We
will have to be careful." She hesitated. "You must not use the
power."
"Telling me what to do
again?"
She sighed.
"It almost killed you last time. Next time, it will. Use the
demon steed, and if demons attack,
banish them. That uses no power, right?"
"Very little."
"Can
the
demon steed look like an
ordinary horse?"
Bane smiled in a way that wrung
her heart. "Now that the wards are broken, it can do many
things."
"We must use caution. Many would
like to kill you if they recognise you. Tell it to look like a
normal horse when we return to the New Kingdom."
He gazed at her. "What use am I
to you, if I cannot wield the power?"
"You must be cleansed and
healed, then you will be able to use it again. For this, we must go
to the Lady's Temple."
"You make it sound like I am
dirty."
She shook her head, pitying him,
but striving not to show it. He would only be insulted. "You have
been corrupted, and you have an illness that the Black Lord
intended to kill you. The healers can cure it, but first you must
be purged of the dark power, or the healing cannot work."
Bane eyed her,
and she thought he was going to ask a question, but then he put
aside his empty bowl and stood, stretching. He walked to the
demon steed, and it bowed for him to
mount. Mirra's soft call stopped him, and he turned.
"You are stronger now," she
said. "Help me pack up the camp, please."
Bane looked startled, as if her
request was outlandish, and she realised that servants had waited
on the Demon Lord all his life. He opened his mouth to protest, or
perhaps refuse, then closed it, frowning at the camp. Walking back
to the tent, he dismantled the bed and packed it away, then the
tent. All the while, he frowned with displeasure. The Black Lord
might have made him perform laborious tasks to build his strength,
but to him, this was servant's work, and he clearly resented
it.
Mirra cleaned
and packed away the cups and bowls, rolling up the blankets. When
everything was packed, Bane issued a silent order to the
demon steed, which looked as
startled by his command as he had been by Mirra's earlier request.
Orriss tossed its head and pranced to show its displeasure, but
could not disobey. The fiery stallion transformed into an ordinary
looking horse, a sorrel, with a red hide and flaxen mane and tail.
They lifted the heavy bundle containing the tent, bed, pots and
food onto Orriss' rump, where the demon steed's will held it in
place, Mirra assumed, since they had no ropes to tie it on with,
yet it did not slide off.
Chapter
Two
The New Kingdom
In a day, they crossed the
river above the waterfall where the sixth ward had been. The demon
steed's flying hooves ate up the land, for despite its mundane
appearance, it retained its powers. Bane was withdrawn and morose,
and sat behind her in silence. He tired easily, exhausted by the
end of the day, and after the third day of travel, he suffered the
after effects of the dragonroot. Mirra had it too, slightly, but he
had consumed far more, and lay supine on the bed, racked by cramps
and nausea, his head pounding. She brewed potion for the pain, but
he kept vomiting it up again.
Despite her illness, Mirra
tended Bane all day, fighting him at every turn. He pushed her hand
away when she tried to put a damp cloth on his brow and jerked
aside when she wiped the sweat from his skin. Clearly he hated her
touch and resented her gentle ministrations, and she wondered why.
The fever brought a delirium, and he muttered in a strange,
guttural tongue that sent shivers through her. Although she could
not understand it, the savage words held a wealth of evil meaning.
Towards the evening his sickness passed, the fever broke, and he
sank into a peaceful sleep. Mirra lay down on the floor, aching
with fatigue, but grateful that he still lived. Her last thought
before she drifted into an exhausted slumber was that he must have
immense strength and resilience to survive all he had.
The next day
he was strong enough to mount the
demon steed without ordering it to bow down for him, and
they continued, avoiding Agden's city. They came across a few burnt
or bludgeoned corpses, and these, Bane told her, were the Black
Lord's victims, whom demons had hunted for sport. After they had
passed the city, they found no more bodies.
Bane's deep voice spoke in her
ear. "The Black Lord rests in Agden's city. He will be celebrating,
enjoying the pleasures of the Overworld."
Mirra shivered at his closeness
and the warmth of his breath on her ear. She muttered a reply,
trying to concentrate on the passing scenery.
The Old Kingdom passed swiftly,
and they avoided Orran's village. When at last they came to the
huge river that divided the lands, Mirra was exhausted and
ravenous. She had lived on fruit and nuts in the forest, but the
pickings were meagre, and she longed for good food. Bane's
Underworld food was almost finished, and she rationed him, but he
did not seem to mind.
The black,
lowering sky depressed her, and the birds were silent, evidently
unsure of whether it was day or night. The ill effects of the lack
of sun were starting to show. After more than a week of near
darkness, some sensitive plants had turned yellow and started to
wither. The lack of rain had not yet affected the plants, but the
ground was hard and dusty. The
demon steed carried them across the river. In its new guise
and with its increased powers, it was able to swim the torrent.
Water still disagreed with it, and the moment it stepped out, it
was dry. It suffered the crossing well, however, and only balked a
little at the outset.
In the New
Kingdom, Bane commanded the
demon steed to travel at a normal pace for a horse, since
its unnatural speed would betray its true nature. This still
allowed it to gallop all day, for it was tireless, although it
slowed their pace considerably. Bane was reluctant to enter the
first village they came to, but he gave in to Mirra's pleas and
guided the demon steed into it.
They stopped at an inn, and
Mirra's mouth watered in anticipation as she led Bane into the
welcoming, lamp-lighted interior. Clean rushes covered the floor
and filled the room with an earthy redolence, and a few patrons sat
at the rough-hewn tables, making desultory conversation.
Bane glared about with a fierce
frown, causing men to look at him askance. The innkeeper hurried
over and guided Mirra to a table, clapping his hands to summon a
gaggle of maids with steamed vegetables and milk. He looked
surprised when Bane swept aside his cloak and sat at her table.
Mirra asked that food be brought
for Bane as well, and this was served far more slowly, a meat stew
that Bane recoiled from with a look of deep disgust. Mirra gazed at
him while she ate, but he made no effort to sample the food.
"Bane, eat the food."
He glared at her. "It is foul
human slops."
"It is this or starve."
His nostrils flared. "It is
poison to me."
"You are going to have to accept
that you are a human, whether you like it or not."
Bane's lip curled, and she
kicked him under the table. He jumped in surprise, and fury flared
in his eyes, then he subsided and picked up the spoon. Placing a
tiny drop of gravy in his mouth, he tasted it. His expression
remained disdainful, but he ate the stew, glaring at her sometimes,
pretending he hated it whilst scraping the bowl clean. When he was
finished, she smiled impishly.
"More?"
"No."
"Foul human slops?"
"It was tolerable."
Mirra grinned with unrestrained
joy at his grudging admission. He regarded her stonily.
The innkeeper came over,
frowning at Bane. "Will you be paying now, sir, or do you want a
room?"
"He is with me," Mirra said.
The plump
man's expression softened when he turned to her. "Really,
healer, he looks like he can afford
it."
Mirra shook her head.
"No..."
Bane raised a hand to silence
her and glared up at the innkeeper, then rose to his feet, looming
over the stocky man. Mirra watched him, unsure of what he was going
to do. This was a man who killed with a touch, and had no
compunction about doing so.
"Bane..." she murmured, but he
ignored her, studying the innkeeper.
"You require coin?"
The man nodded, shifting a
little under Bane's cold glare.
Bane cocked his head. "Have you
a coin?"
"Of course," the innkeeper
blustered, "but you have to pay me."
"I merely wish to borrow it,
that is all."
The innkeeper dug under his
gravy-stained apron and drew out a copper coin, which he handed to
the Demon Lord. Bane cupped it in his hand, and when he opened it,
a gleaming gold coin lay there.
The innkeeper gaped, and Bane
enquired, "Is that enough?"
The man nodded, took the gold
and walked away polishing it lovingly. Mirra stared at Bane in
amazement as he sat down again.
"How long before the spell wears
off?"
"What spell? The coin is gold
now."
"You must not use your
power."
"I did not."
She frowned. "How is that
possible?"
"It is something I have always
been able to do. A mere trick."
Before she could point out that
turning copper into gold was no mere trick, a commotion outside
diverted her attention. A cry of pain and yell of fear made most of
the patrons hurry to the door to peer out into the street. A nasty
suspicion prompted Mirra to go to the door and see what had
happened, and Bane joined her as she tried to elbow her way through
the crowd. The men parted to let him through, glancing over their
shoulders when he approached, as if sensing him. She wondered if it
was just his air of dominance, or his power that made their hair
bristle when he came near them.
Outside, two men sprawled in the
dirt, and Orriss stood, swishing its tail, where Bane had left it.
One of the men held a rope halter, and Bane walked over to confront
him as he stood up.
"Were you trying to steal my
horse?" he demanded.
The man recoiled. "No! We saw
him without a bridle, and thought he was a stray."
Mirra walked up as Bane said,
"He needs no -"
"He is a very well-trained
animal," she interrupted.
The man, clearly cowed by Bane's
glare, nodded and hurried off, his partner following.
Mirra eyed the
snorting
demon steed, which
looked like a horse, but certainly did not act like one. The
stallion threw up its head and cantered from the village,
scattering strolling people. The pack containing the tent and
Bane's furniture remained on its back, but they would not need it
at the inn. She turned to Bane, who shrugged.